The poison called tobacco, which was once almost extinct in the old ages, still lingered in the days of Universal Century 0096. This was the result of tobacco quality improving as a result of the space age, like the reduction of tar to reduce the negative effects on the human body and the intricate machines, and the development of chemicals that combust at low temperatures in tobacco, but most people felt that the biggest reason for the revival of tobacco was the One Year War.
The generals frowning at each other in the Operations Conference room, the senators and government officials flabbergasted by the damage reports that kept coming were the same as the frontline soldiers. To humanity, which lost almost half its population, and its latter half was at the brink of danger, tobacco became a solace that could reduce the pressure they never had before. The principle to ban smoking in government offices and the parliamentary halls were quickly abandoned, and in periods of war, tobacco stench were around, whether it was the conference rooms or the rest rooms. This bad habit continued even after the war, and in Dakar, there were continuous signs of senators taking at least on stick. Even the Settlement Issues Council, which involved important figures from both ruling and opposition parties, were of no exception—no, it was because there were a lot of experienced veterans from the War and after it, and the percentage of smokers were extremely high—it was already a common theme seeing the exhaled smoke float around the conference room.
“I suppose silence means consent…it’s fine, right?”
Even so, the smoke today was extremely severe. Ronan Marcenas waved his hand to shake off the smoke, and looked at the faces of the crowd seated around the round table.
“The military has also observed the destruction of the ‘L1 Junction’. The “Nahel Argama” is currently headed to the shoal space region, and a Neo Zeon fleet is out in full arms to ambush this. From this, we can conclude that there’s a high chance of the “Laplace Box” being in the shoal space region.”
32 members of the Senate Council were gathered at the 111 meeting room in the Dakar Senate Headquarters, and the ranks, led by Ronan on the Upper House Chairman seat, were the cadres of the respective ruling parties, their sleep disheveled hair and droopy eyes lingering in the smoke. The time was GMT 0500 and 2 hours had passed since the phone call notifying them about an emergency meeting. The Settlement Issues Council, the bipartisan organization which deals with the many issues regarding Spacenoids, sends them to the Senate for clean up, and decided the fates of the Spacenoids that numbered in more than millions—they were what the media called the shadow parliament. It was not rare for them, who had such great responsibility, to gather in the middle of the night, and because of the terrorist attack on Dakar, many senators were already gathered here, which meant that there were no absentees. But when dealing with the topic at hand, many of them looked dull and unreliable, completely different from how they were when they were pulling votes.
All of them gave extremely awkward expressions, merely puffing smoke out, giving expressions that clearly showed they did not want to make decisions. It was true this was a common theme people would do when starting a meeting, but the topic at hand was not ordinary. These guys know this already, Ronan cursed in his heart. They knew that the strange happenings that had been around this past month were all because of the “Laplace Box”, and they knew that the end of all these events was right in front of them. He knew that all of them inherited their current positions from their ancestors, covering the secret of the “Box” together. In this sense, we’re the ones who have to clear the 100-year lie.
“In that case, please hurry in the mobilization of the space army and seal off the shoal space region. We’ll eliminate the Neo Zeon fleet, return the “Nahel Argama” to our military, secure the “Laplace Box” and then bring it under our governance. We’ve decided on what we have to do, and if nobody’s going to propose a plan B, I want to discuss about how to execute it. What do you think?”
The situation continued to develop during this time. It was an undisclosed meeting with guards keeping a tight watch, and Ronan still felt repulsed about having to mention the “Box” over and over again, but he could not let the senators look on with sleepy eyes. He said it with the intention of waking them up, but their responses were still slow. In the midst of this silence, when the sound of the clock ticking could ostensibly be heard, “It’s easier said than done to mobilize the entire army to maintain security.” A senator, who was also the president of the ruling party’s construction ministry, let out this vague voice,
“Looking at the nature of this incident, we mustn’t reveal this to the world, and we won’t be able to satisfy the condition of mobilizing the army. What do we do?”
“And Muar’s the current legislation chief!” The senator in charge of agriculture leaned on his seat beside the other man. “I don’t think the legislation council will agree easily, especially with the media raising the issues of the Second Neo Zeon war to shake the hearts of the people. If we’re to mobilize a large force, they’ll be looks from the people of the world.”
All their stares were gathered on John Bauer, seated opposite Ronan. This important man from the national defense committee, reputed to be the cause of shaking the hearts of the people, did not mind the blaming stares as he continued to look aloof. Ronan held back his sigh, “It’s because of this…” he probed his body onto the table as he said.
“It’s because Senator Bauer paved the path for us that it’s easier for us to mobilize the enemy. The recent spate of terrorist attacks has caused public opinion to lean towards the eradication of Neo Zeon. With the assistance of everyone here, I suppose we can break down the interference of the legislation council, right?”
Of course, these were not sincere words, all of them knew that Bauer’s actions were only to ensure the continual existence of Londo Bell, which his helped set up, an act for the sake of maintaining the military industry. Ronan did not continue to look at Bauer, who deliberately looked away, and looked at the faces of all those present. “Isn’t this too much of a wishful thinking?” One of the six female senators interrupted as she put out the cigarette on the ash tray.
“The media does adore Neo Zeon as they are biased towards Spacenoids. They’re still insisting on that old logic, saying that the source of all the mishaps is the incompetence of the Federation.”
“And it was just revealed that ECOAS was involved in the battle of “Palau”.”
“Using the term eradicate is very…the initial plan was to settle all issues gradually with the dissolvement of the Republic, right? If we’re going to do such an extreme action at this time, won’t we end up obstructing the space army realignment plan and have no support in this end?”
“The Vist Foundation has a clear view on all this, which is why they can control the Senate Council however they want to. How about we give up on ensuring the “Box” at this time and try leaving it again? If the “Box” is going to be opened, the Foundation will be grabbed by the throat.”
“But what Chairman Ronan said about this being a good chance to take them down is true. They’re fighting over a family squabble now, and they haven’t formally decided on a leader, right?”
“You say it as if it’s easy. If Neo Zeon is defeated, your party will be the first one to ask for a revision over the realignment plan, right?”
“You’ve been insisting that the money used to build a mobile suit can build many old folks homes, right?”
“This is already the instinctive action of the largest opposition party; it’s a different theme from what we’re talking about.”
This barefaced saying caused a tired amusement to ripple through the Senate room. Ronan slammed his fist into the table to negate that uneasy tremor.
“People, I hope you can understand the importance of this incident.”
The members hid their smiles and went quiet as they gathered their stares on the Chairman. Ronan cupped his aching fist with his other hand as he looked at the stares of the many people through the smoke of the cigarettes.
“We’ve been protecting the secret of the “Box”. The meaning of the existence of this Senate Council, the authority that can decide the Spacenoid administrations are all based on this. In the aspect of wanting to get power in our hopes to secure the “Box”, we’re on the same path as the Vist Foundation.”
Ronan stood up without letting anyone have the room to argue back. The photos of the Council Chairmans hanging on the wall entered his eyes, “Sometimes, I wonder…” and he immediately looked away to say calmly,
“If Zeon grew prosperous before the One Year War began, and if I took up this position before that, what would I do? Will I open the promised future in the “Box” to prevent Zeon’s insurgence?”
All the people seated at the round seat inadvertently felt chills and turned their faces away in an awkward manner. Ronan continued to look at the photos of the past Chairmans that had never changed, exchanged a short glance with his already deceased father, “Of course, the answer is no.” he answered himself and lowered his stare.
“Our fathers had this thought before, and continued to implement silence to protect the regimentation of the Federation inherited from our forefathers. But in the end, the One Year War happened. ‘Zeon assault can’t be predicted’, or ‘these happened before we knew about the existence of the “Box”’, we can’t use them as excuses. If we wanted to prevent them, we might have been able to do so, but the Senate Council sat by to watch half of humanity killed, and has the same crime as Zeon.”
“That’s…” an elderly senator spoke with a bitter smile. “Don’t tell me you never thought of it.” Ronan hushed up the other man, and slowly strolled down the circumference of the round table.
“And we, who had the complete inheritance, are unable to acquit ourselves of this crime. This is a guilt we have to bear forever, and we’re not allowed to bring it into our graves. As long as the Earth Federation continues to existence, we will have to bear the secret that taints our descendants with blood.”
Riddhe’s expression when he learnt the truth in that office lit by the sunset appeared for a fleeting moment in Ronan’s eyes. There were people putting their elbows on the table as they leaned forward, and there were those leaning on their chairs as they looked into space. They were children, but also parents; Ronan looked around and stared at the faces of these people, “This isn’t something we can leave it to others.” He continued, and set aside the face in his memory.
“It’ll be best if we can use this chance to get the “Box” and bury it completely. However, the more pressing thing is to maintain the current situation and prevent anyone from approaching the “Box”. This isn’t the time to consider the benefits for our political parties, or even our personal problems; we have a mission to protect this secret, and we’re betting on the billions of lives that died during the One Year War.”
He circled the round table once, and placed his hand on the Chairman’s seat that appeared in front of his eyes again. “I hope that we’ll have a fruitful discussion after we consider all these.” Ronan concluded and let his heavier body sink into the seat.
Nobody wanted to look at each other or speak up, but even so, the political considerations and the forces, tangible and intangible, supporting the council were not to be ignored. He thought of the costs and benefits of the options, whether it was necessary to protect the “Box” in such an adhersive manner, and compared it to the current reality; in the end, tired breaths merely came out with the smoke, and a silent time proceeded. At this moment, John Bauer lifted his head and spoke up for the first time on this day, “I can understand your concerns, Chairman Ronan.” Ronan had no intention of accepting the words of this old friend and colleague as he looked back with a wary look.
“But we’re able to get to the lowest seat of this senate because of the support of the people. If we act while ignoring the wills of the supporting parties, we won’t be able to fulfill the mission you said of, Chairman. At this situation, we need to first calm down and make our decisions—”
“What if Neo Zeon gets the “Box” while we’re doing so? Do you think you can use political means to overturn the Second Coming of Char? It’s rumored that that man has relations with the Republic.”
“That’s the point. If the Republic’s supporting from behind, there’s still room for negotiations, like the delay of self-autonomy or something…”
“And what if they ask for inordinate requests? It’s fine to continue keeping your votes for the sake of maintaining the needs for war, but I don’t want a replay of the One Year War to happen again.”
“You’re too hasty in your conclusions. No matter whether it has the “Box” or not, Zeon’s fate is flickering in the windlike a candle. It is rude of me to say so, Chairman Ronan, but aren’t you being a little too paranoid? It seems that you’re overrating the existence of the “Box”.”
Bauer said with an emotionless expression, and there were several senators around them showing looks that they understood this very well as they looked at Ronan. These unexpected words rendered Ronan speechless, and he suspected if these words were of reality as he looked back at Bauer’s face wordlessly.
Bauer was the head of the Defense Ministry, based in the Anaheim Electronics, and would be the one most scared of the opportunists’ words when the space army realignment program were to be subjected to setback, but Ronan never thought that he would say this was just paranoid. Is he saying the restraining bolt and sacrifices over these hundred years were all the result of paranoia? Is he saying that the world won’t change no matter whether the “Box” is opened? That the tragedy of the One Year War will never be avoided no matter what? Do we fear something that has no value, threatening those who did not know its true identity? Are we flaunting our authority without purpose?
Impossible. The moment Ronan concluded, he had a fleeting thought this might be the case, and he temporarily felt the feeling of being dangled in the air. To a man like Bauer—the intangible block called the public, that firm, incomprehensible and entity might be the case. The words carved on the “Box” might just be a chain of words, and it itself had no power to change the world. The “Box” could only fulfill its power that can topple the current regimentation with the help of those people with the hearts to respond to the ‘promised future’. He knew all about this, but he continued to fear the “Box”; was it because he was a direct member of the Marcenas family that had a direct involvement in the “Box”, or was he feeling somewhat melancholic about the dream of the ‘promised future’ that still lingered in his heart? Ronan could not conclude as he looked forward with a stiff mask. At this moment, he discovered that the door at the edge of his vision was opened.
The door was forbidden to be opened until the meeting was over. Ronan looked over at the door together with everyone else, who turned around in shock, saw the face of a woman who passed through the door the guards opened without any concerns, and felt his gulped breath stuck at his throat
“Pardon me for interrupting the meeting.”
Martha Vist Carbine said this line to brush off the many stares on her as she walked over. Why is this woman here? Ronan glared at the guards standing at the door, looked at the officer’s uniform that proceeded into the room, and gasped again. There were three large stars on the rank, reflecting the light off his shoulders; this was not the first time Ronan saw the officer, and the latter overwhelmed the guards with his authority as he entered. This face belonged to the man, the Chief of Staff for the entire Federation military.
Even though he was the leader of the army brass that was under the command of the Senate Council, it would require lots of courage for him to enter this room. Ronan looked at the stiff expression of this Admiral, ascertained that he had the same interests as that of the Foundation, and turned his stare towards Martha, who was walking to the Chairman’s seat. This was probably the first time they met face to face, but Ronan did not feel this way. It felt as if they both involved the military, and Ronan had been able to see this face all this time. Perhaps Martha too felt the same way as she gave a thin smile, her eyes showing a trace of closeness, and she brought her face close to Ronan’s eyes. The tobacco stench filling the room faded away, and what came was a sharp agitating scent of perfume stimulating around his nostrils.
“I have something urgent to talk about, Chairman Ronan. Can I have a word with you?”
“Sorry, but we’re in the middle of an emergency meeting as well. Do say anything you want here, but keep it short.”
Ronan did not look away from the Senator who were scrutinizing him, and answered her with an unhushed voice. He had a thought ingrained deep within him, that if she were to gain the initiative here, everyone else would have an opportunity. Martha however smiled with an expression, indicating that she knew beforehand. “You understand too, right?” she muttered again.
“It’s useless to talk with these people. The “Box” is our family’s issue, and we have to settle it ourselves.”
Ronan resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows as he continued to stare at Martha, who narrowed her eyes as she seemed to have witnessed the proceedings in the meeting. “I have a secret way to deal with this.” she spoke without leaving an opening.
“If you allow us, Chairman, this plan can be executed immediately. Do you have any interest?”
“…You’re asking the obvious. This isn’t something a lady should be doing.”
“Women always want to be certain, especially when we’re lacking in time.”
She said sweetly, but there was a sense of urgency deep within her eyes. Martha too was anxious, and nobody other than her could experience this urgency to prevent the “Box” from being opened. Ronan sighed heavily, looked around at the faces that amounted more than 30, trying to find an opportunity to grasp a foothold, and used this chance to get up from the Chairman’s seat.
“I’ll be back.” He said to the vice-chairman beside him, but understood very well that he would not be coming back. He followed Martha out as the latter proceeded first, and walked out of the meeting room. He sensed the cold atmosphere of the term secret method, and as he felt goosebumps rise on his skin, he passed through the door. The unnerving expressions of the past chairmans caused his back to ache more than the cold stares of the other senators.
The 3 dimension holographic map shown on the main monitor showed a straight arrow of light from the bottom to the top, intersecting an arrow reaching in from the left side. The intersection point let out a red flickering light, and the side showed the estimated time of arrival and the closest distance values.
“This is the predicted path of the Tennyson fleet from Side 6. We just sent out a laser communicator signal 6 hours ago, so the values shouldn’t be wrong.”
Flaste Schole said. Since this was the man who was part of the crew that occupied the “Nahel Argama” just 5 hours ago, and intended to work with that fleet, there was no greater prediction than this. Otto Mitas got up from his Captain’s seat, and looked carefully at the many markers flickering on the monitor. Liam Borrinea and the other bridge crew held their breaths as they stared at the enemy’s fleet blocking their path.
“There are 9 Musaka-class ships, and another 6 different disguised ships of all sizes. They’re not holding bac on this large attack at all, and if we keep this up, we’ll face them head on in the shoal space region. The ETA is 08:17…less than 3 hours.”
Flaste said as he looked at his watch and then looked over at Otto. Are you serious? The latter avoided the stare as he gave this expression, and proceeded to ask his sensor operator, “What’s the movement of Frontal’s squadron?” The operator started to work on the console Flaste worked on before,
“Looking at the final observations of the optical sensors, it seems they’re planning to meet with their own fleet. Considering the durability of the subflight systems, I don’t think they’ll head straight to “Industrial 7”.”
“What about Frontal’s mothership, the “Rewloola”?”
“It’s outside our range. I don’t know where Frontal’s fleet launched from, but looking at the plug-in fuel tanks of the SFS, my guess is that they’re 80,000km away from the main fleet. It’ll take them half a day to proceed here at maximum speed.”
“I heard that the “Rewloola” is bringing 2 Musaka-classes along. Maybe they don’t intend to meet up with Tennyson’s fleet, but is headed to “Industrial 7” straight away. In this case, Frontal may use the “Rewloola” as a base to look for the “Box”.”
Flaste continued, and while Otto noticed the side of the man’s face that stood beside them complete, this man is younger than he looks he wondered about this completely unimportant thing. “What do you think, First Officer?” he turned behind to look, and Liam, with her hand on her injured shoulder, “It’s very likely.” She answered without hesitation.
“Once the squad regroups, they’ll head straight for “Industrial 7”. There’s a chance they’ll be stranded, but that’s a fine move not to scatter their forces. That man will definitely do it.”
“In that case, we’ll have to face one large fleet.”
The Captain’s simple summation of the entire situation brought a heavy and silent atmosphere upon the bridge. It had been more than 5 hours since they left the collapsed ‘L1 Junction’ and head off to the shoal space region. They did not have any time to think as they were too busy detaining the Zeon Republic soldiers in the ship and restoring the operations of each department, but at this point, the pressure came right at them. Otto felt abnormally awake due to the extreme sleep deprivation, and looked at the markers shown on the screen. While the “Nahel Argama” was wounded, almost devoid of its remaining ammunitions and transport vehicles, there were 15 enemy ships. He knew, without anyone reminding him, how reckless it was. “Aid from Londo Bell…I don’t think we can hope for it.” Liam’s passing words brought a heaviness worth sighing over beside Otto’s ears.
“Yeah. We’re the ones being hunted down by the entire military, and Fleet Commander Bright is being redeployed. There’s no one we can reason with; if we’re not careful, we might even be attacked.”
“But we know the location of the “Box”. As long as we report there’s a threat that Neo Zeon will capture it, Londo Bell can act independently, right?”
Mihiro Oiwakken said as she sat on the communication operator seat. Her firm expression showed that there was a need to say this, and Otto was dumbstruck by this. “It’s useless.” However, Liam first spoke up,
“If we don’t know the true identity of the “Box”, there’s no way we can determine the threat it brings. If we want Londo Bell to take action, it’ll have to be once we confirm the contents.”
“How can that be…! In that case—”
“There’s no room for us to make a detour and avoid the enemy’s ambush. If we don’t hurry to “Industrial 7” as soon as possible, Frontal will reach there first.”
Liam spoke with a voice not allowing for any optimism, and turned her stare to the Captain’s seat. Otto looked at her eyes that showed that she was ready to go all in, “How many mobile suits are we going to expect?” he asked Flaste.
“The maximum capacity for the Musaka-class is 6, and the disguised ships have varying ones, but they can probably hold about 3 or so.”
“In other words…” the sensor operator looked up at the screen, ostensibly calculating in his mind, “…72 of them.” and went pale,
“The only ones we can deploy are the “ReZEL”, the “Stark Jegan” and the “Unicorn”. They outnumber us 24 to 1…”
Liam muttered, and Otto felt the chill of despair rise from below his feet, creating a freezing atmosphere. “No, it’s 12 to 1.” He said as he left the Captain’s seat.
“We can still mobilize another 3 units.”
His magnetic soles landed on the floor, and he looked back at the stunned faces of everyone present. “The “Kshatriya”?” Liam asked in lieu of every person present, and Otto affirmed it with his stare.
“What about the other two?” The ECOAS “Lotos” can’t be counted in this as they can only replace the cannons.”
With Liam giving a suspicious look, Otto turned his back on her and looked towards Flaste, who seemed to have realized this. He approached Flaste and asked, “Can you help?” As the latter’s face cringed, Mihiro ostensibly swallowed some words and looked away.
“Your “Geara Zulus” are still around, and though one of them lost an arm, but it can still defend a ship, I suppose?”
“…Is this really alright? It’s said that those who betrayed once will do so again.”
Flaste answered with a bitter smile as he lowered his face. Otto too lowered his head as he looked at the expression devoid of any smiling intent. “I won’t force you.” He said as he reached his hand to touch his cap.
“We’ll immediately send a launch that will depart for the Republic’s army. You can ride on board and leave this ship as well. It’s all your ship.”
Flaste widened his eyes as he averted them, and lifted his head as if he was had. Otto however did not look at him as he turned to Liam and the rest, “The same goes for the rest as well.” He spoke with a voice that bellowed through the bridge.
“I said before that there’s no need to accompany me to my death over such a foolish thing, and this feeling remains the same even at this point. For those who want to leave the ship, I’ll lend a launch. Just tell me. In this space region, there’ll be a ship who can receive a distress signal immediately.”
The navigation and cannons operators seated at the consoles in front wordlessl looked over Liam’s shoulders and stared at Otto. If I don’t want to lose anyone else, how can I lose anyone? Otto suppressed the true thoughts rising in his heart, “But those who want to stay, please be prepared.” he continued and looked at everyone present.
“We’re the only ones present. As for whether we want to take action, or whether this is the correct decision, we have to decide it itself. Everyone has to think and make their own decisions. I won’t charge you on your responsibilities as a soldier, but the responsibility you need to take up should be in your hearts.”
There were people with unfaltering looks, and there were those who looked down in doubt. Once he was certain of their reactions, “Notify the ship. I hope all personnel leaving the ship are to gather at the deck in 20 minutes.” Otto finally turned to Mihiro and said this, and the petite figure answered in a flustered manner as she looked away. Otto removed his cap, let the wind blow on his heating head, and walked towards the window in front of him without looking at anyone else in the eyes.
There was still some distance to the shoal space region, and the “Nahel Argama” was surrounded by a stretch of endless space, without any space debris passing by. The “Laplace Box” that had the power to topple the world, the Second Coming of Char, the “Unicorn Gundam” that was the key to opening the “Box”—he reflected on the things that had nothing to do with him a month ago, wondered about how peculiar it was, and looked at the stars afar. His wife’s face appeared in his mind, but it did not bring about the pain he imagined; there goes my retirement funds this self-depreciating voice was the only thing that echoed in his heart.
The aft landing deck was as its name described, a one-way passage used for transport craft to return to the ship, but it also had a function to let small launchs fly off. The insides and external appearances were not too different from the catapult deck, but the scene of the 4 old-styled launchses docked on both ends of this extremely tall deck resembled the idiosyncratic atmosphere of a a mobile suit hangar.
At this point, two of these launches were dragged to the middle of the airlock, and a group of men dressed in thick green normal suits were boarding the launch. It was under zero gravity, but the feet of those 30 men or more were abnormally heavy. It felt as if their bodies were srinking for every step they took with their magnetic soles. There were guards wielding recoiless rifles standing around them, giving watchful stares at the group boarding the launch. However, anyone could tell they were not going to do anything.
They—the Zeon Republic soldiers, lost. They lost their motherships, their comrades, and were to be divided into two launches and abandoned into space. Banagher Links did not dare to say he could understand the attitude of a soldier, as what their ideals entails were completely beyond his imagination, but their dangling expressions gave him a rough sense of familiarity. He looked at the faces of those soldiers who were most in their twenties sidelong. ‘Disjointed’…this would most likely be the term that could explain their psychological mood. They could not associate themselves with the current reality; even though they were present, there was a sense of isolation—
“We’re included the water and food for the mobile suits that are floating around. Once you leave the ship, please proceed to save them. The ‘L1 Junction’ collapse meant that the military and media will get into action. There’ll be a ship that will save you here.”
Audrey Burne spoke to the Sub-Lieutenant acting as representative for the Republic soldiers. She had removed her regal cape, but she was still dressed in formal Neo Zeon uniform, and this must have been one of the reasons why the Republic soldiers felt disjointed. Banagher, Conroy Haagensen and Gael Chan were sending them off in name, but their faces were giving off uneasy looks as they stared at Audrey from behind. “Yes…” The sub-lieutenant looked down as he answered, looked back at their one and only royal heir Mineva Zabi, and then looked around with a lost expression.
“…None of the crew on this ship is leaving.”
It had been almost 30 minutes since the broadcast to gather all departers echoed through the ship. The Sub-Lieutenant saw that no one else was going to leave from this landing deck, and looked back at Audrey. “Why?” He asked with a troubled expression.
“It’s suicidal to take on the main fleet of the “Sleeves” as a single ship, so why…what do you believe in? The Side co-prosperity ring the Second Coming of Char described about will bring a whole new future to Spacenoids, but why, as the Princess of Zeon, are You denying this—”
“I’m not denying it. if there’s really this ideal, it’s possible to try it in this world. However, I can’t accept using the power of the “Laplace Box” to simply protect ourselves.”
Audrey silently answered as she stood unflinchingly on the deck. The Sub-Lieutenant was the highest ranked amongst the stragglers, but he was still considered a youth. Banagher saw his face contort sidelong, and his mouth kept shuddering, but he was speechless.
“The world will change, and it has to change. Thus, when we change, we have to be change cautiously. If we want to change simply because we’re unhappy about the state of the world, that’s no different from a child crying in the darkness. We need to open our eyes wide and walk towards the path with the light…once you do that, and once you think of using the light you see to spread it through the entire world, that’s when you need to summon the courage to take action.”
Audrey’s words were clear. It was true that if he felt ‘disjointed’ by the world and hoped for changes, he could not fear his own change. Banagher deeply felt his heart engraved by this change over this past month or so, and it resonated with her words. He gently clenched his palms as the blood of life flowed to his fingertips, and made his decision not to be lost again as he looked forward. “Change yourself first, you say…?” The Sub-Lieutenant asked, and she nodded back, “This is my personal view.” Audrey smiled.
“Even if the crew on this ship have their different thoughts, there is one thing we all believe in.”
“And that is…?”
“We won’t die, and we won’t lose, for the beast of possibilities will protect us.”
“The beast…of possibilities…” The Sub-Lieutenant repeated these words, and seemed to have recalled something as he looked back. Banagher inadvertently cringed his chin back and adjusted his posture. The Sub-Lieutenant looked at the pilot suit Banagher had been wearing since the previous night, and lowered his face weakly. “Were we wrong…” he said with a practically vanishing voice.
“That’s not something I can decide. The outcome of the upcoming battle will most likely change the direction of the Zeon Republic greatly, but no matter what this outcome is, you’re the ones supporting the country. Don’t be lost because of other people’s words, including mine.”
The Sub-Lieutenant lowered his head and bit his lips hard, before straightening his back to look at Audrey’s face. His slightly damp eyes ostensibly reflected the light off the deck, his heels clicked as he brought them together, and he stood still with a proper salute as he stood on the deck.
“You’re our Queen after all.”
He did not wait for a return salute, and turned around to walk towards the launch his subordinates were in. They were about to head back to their country, and would certainly face a cruel fate. They would definitely be court-martialled, and even worse, there was the possibility that the Defense Minister would shut them up to hide his involvement with Neo Zeon. However, this prediction would not be able to scare the Sub-Lieutenant at this moment. Banagher watched him leave, and Audrey stood there adamantly, her back etched deeply into his eyes. The Sub-Lieutenant did not say anything else as he left the scene.
He went past the airlock of the landing deck, and went right towards the container block behind the partition wall. The beast of possibilities, the “Unicorn”, was inside there. What he could do at this moment was just to prepare it for everything. He seemed to sense the blurry hot air flowing in the ship clear up, injecting life into his body and mind again. Banagher was driven by this emotion as he floated out to the container block.
The containers of all sizes were fastened along the partition wall, and this place not only contained the spare supplies, but also became a storage for the supplies the “Garencieres” brought in. at this point, all the mechanics were mobilized and transporting the goods. As the sounds of the cranes and sirens activated resonated, the cargo carrier moved the black barrel of the Beam Gatling gun. “Okay, it’s fine!” A familiar voice was mixed in the metallic sounds, and Banagher stepped off the floor to float there. “Takuya!” He called out. “Oh!” Takuya Irei in turn raised his hand, grabbed Banagher by the leg as the latter was almost about to go past him, and pulled the cargo palette over in a refined manner.
“Can the Full Armor Plan work?”
“We’re letting Mr Aaron do the final analysis. Don’t worry, we’ll make it in time for the final battle.”
He showed the grin of a veteran mechanic, and soon after, “How’s the fastening?” he heard a yell, and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s done!” He shouted with all he had, “Let’s move out!” and the cargo carrier ferrying the 6 Beam Gatling guns rumbled. “Go and get some rest first.” Takuya said, and his back faded away. The cargo carrier moving down the rail on the floor was headed to the large gate with the opened shutter; on the other end was a wide mobile suit deck space with fresh burn marks after a fire. The Beam Gatling guns that were moved would probably be equipped onto the “Unicorn”, as according to Takuya’s plan to increase its armaments, and were to fulfill their purposes as indispensable parts in forming the “Full Armor Unicorn”.
These were originally Neo Zeon weapons that were docked on the “Garencieres”, and it was proven in battle that they were highly compatible with the “Unicorn”, but they did not know whether there would be any troubles if they were to activate many of them at one go. This was not the time to rest, and Banagher was intending to follow the cargo carrier to the mobile suit deck. “Follow his advice and rest.” But a voice came from above, causing him to lift his head and look over. Miss Marida, before he could speak up, the soft profile dressed in pilot suit filled his sights, and the body floating in the air slowly descended to the floor.
“I understand that you can’t calm down, but you’re the ace of this ship. If you don’t act composed, everyone else will feel uneasy.”
She did not look away as she supported Banagher, whose feet did not land on the floor, and spoke. The voice and attitude was undoubtedly that of Marida Cruz, who once shared her soul with him. His shoulder that was grabbed let out a jolt, and his body relaxed unconditionally; was this because of the sensation back then lingered in his heart, or was it a biological phenomenon of his body being unrestrained. Banagher scented the sweetness of her body aroma that was different from Audrey’s, looked away awkwardly, and forced out a line, “How can that be, Miss Marida, you’re…” Marida showed a smile.
“The “Kshatriya” can’t stand on the frontline now, because you beat it up real good.”
The casual reply caused the sweet atmosphere to subside. She was brought to Earth, her soul was toyed with, her body was tortured, she was forced to fight against her will, and fell to the brink of death. The one opportunity that caused her to experience this month of pain was definitely the moment when she went up against the berserk “Unicorn”. The machine, and even Marida herself could not be said to be completely fine. Upon thinking about this, Banagher lowered his head with a wordless expression. “I’m joking. Don’t make such an expression.” Marida noted wryly and prodded him on the head.
“I’ll be your rearguard. The forward needs to have strength and stamina, so just go and sleep, even if it’s for 30 minutes.”
“Alright then…erm, Miss Marida, did you speak with the Captain?”
The reason why he suddenly asked this was probably because it was rare to see her talk so much. The back that was about to leave jerked, and she turned her head around slightly. “he’s still in the detention room?” She spoke with a barely audible voice, and as Banagher nodded, he realized that Zinnerman had been avoiding him too.
“Go talk with him.”
Marida said quietly as her back was turned to him. “But…” Banagher’s reply was filled with doubt. “I suppose this is for the better.” The sidelong face looking afar suppressed Banagher’s voice that was about to give a suggestion.
“Some things can only be said easily amongst men, right?”
She spoke with a voice not hoping for any answers, and the back profile kicked the floor and left. Marida grabbed the Beam Gatling gun that just passed by from above and said something to the mechanic. Banagher did not look at her again and he looked at the airlock on the starboard partition wall. He recalled the path leading to the detention room in the gravity block, and his emotions felt heavy, creating a feeling that he could not lift his soles.
He got off the elevator, and there was a weak rumbling sound from the aft, shaking the body that had become a prisoner to gravity slightly. The launch the Republic soldiers were on had probably left. A moment of tranquil returned to the gravity block, and nothing could be heard other than the the cylinder creating the centrifuge gravity. Banagher felt his body become heavier for every step he took, and walked down the passage that still had some gunpowder stench. The room he was headed to was about 30m in front of him, down the round gradual arching corridor.
Nobody ordered Zinnerman to enter the room, and the door was not locked, but he would not come out. He went in, locked the metal door, and remained silent without talking to anyone. Banagher stood in front of the metal door covering the presence of a human within like the other detention rooms, and wanted to look inside and see the situation inside; however, he frowned because he realized his own timidity. He took a deep breath, knocked on the door as a matter of formality, and opened it without waiting for a response.
There were cushions all over the detention room’s walls, meant to prevent self-mutilation, and was often kept dark to save power. Suberoa Zinnerman was leaning on the wall, spacing out as he sat down, ostensibly clasping onto a shadow in the dimness. He remained unmoved even as the light shone in from the door, and merely rolled his eyes to look at Banagher. Banagher exerted strength into his lower body, steadied himself from being pushed aside by that pressure, and stared at Zinnerman’s black eyes standing at the door.
“The escape launch was used.”
Banagher let out these unexpected words from his opened mouth, and went silent for a while. Zinnerman blinked two, three times, and lowered his head in an ostensibly disinterested manner.
“If you want to stay here, go up to the bridge. We’re going to meet the Neo Zeon fleet. You know some of the internal workings, so you can at least give some suggestions, right?”
It was not the time to talk about such things. Banagher was driven by the rising anxiety that arose with this separation, and grabbed onto the metal grille of the opened door, staying there as he was unable to make the decision and step inside. He looked away from the silent Zinnerman, and looked at the shadow reaching out from his feet. The ship’s broadcast seemed to have notified something, but his heart had no room to listen to the contents carefully.
“Miss Marida and Mr Flaste are helping out, but you’re hiding in such a place, Captain—”
“I’m no longer Captain.”
Banagher was interrupted by this hoarse voice, and lifted his head. Zinnerman continued to look at the wall, the whites of his eyes appearing in the darkness, before the light vanished as he closed his eyelids again.
“My ship’s sunk, those guys I’m ordering have disappeared, those who were once my subordinates are now acting on their own judgement.”
“IN THAT CASE, WHAT ARE YOU!?”
This voice unwittingly boomed, reaching the cushions on the wall, and vanished without echo. Banagher looked away from Zinnerman, whose face was unmoving like a corpse, and averted his stare towards the dimness beside the door.
“I want to think that we have no relationship now…! But it can’t be helped; you’re still Captain to me. If I break away from you now, I will disappear.”
The body in the darkness let out a trembling presence, but Banagher was not in the mood to ascertain. Because of you, I can live. Your complicated life told me the truth to this world, your gentleness teaches me to live on even so. Because of such sadness, people continue to live to erase them—these words were etched deep inside his heart, and even one or two betrayals were unable to erase them. Banagher exerted more strength onto his fingertips on the metal grille, and looked at Zinnerman again,
“You set Marida free and saved Audrey, didn’t you? It’s a different thing for the others, so why did you—”
“It’s not that easy to take the first step from where I was from. There’s a price.”
Zinnerman interrupted Banagher’s words and lifted his face. Banagher was at a loss of words as he looked at the other man sidelong.
“Whether it’s the people on this ship, the “Garencieres” team…princess and you, everyone paid the price. Some have given up on their stable lives, their positions as soldiers, the beliefs and pride that had been supporting them, and for some, their lives.”
The face of Daguza Mackle flashed by his mind, and the voice of Loni Garvey he heard on the battlefield of Dakar whiffed by fleetingly. These were the lives of those who were not scared of change, and took the first step to save him—Zinnerman’s rough hands were cupped together, “I gave up everything.” He spoke with a hoarse voice.
“Responsibility, hatred, I abandoned everything that formed myself. What I am now is merely an empty shell. Tell Gael that I don’t have any strength to bear responsibility or anything now.”
“Tell Mr Gael…?”
“He was the one who asked you to talk to me, right?”
“No, Miss Marida said. She asked if I can talk with you.”
The black eyes widened in a faltering manner, letting out a glint deep inside the darkness. “Marida…?” Banagher heard Zinnerman mutter and not do anything after; he truly felt that he could not pass through this door. “I’m losing something gradually for the sake of change…” he unwittingly muttered in his mouth, and again stared into the gathered darkness. Zinnerman however did not say anything, and he did not lift his head.
“But you managed to get something in return, right?”
There were no more words to be said, and he retreated from the door. “I’ll leave this open.” Banagher said and left the detention room. He felt a sense of helplessness spread in his heart for every step he took, and returned back to the elevator. The ajar door let out a thin shadow on the empty corridor.
Just when he was about to reach for the elevator button, the door opened. He instinctively retreated, exchanged looks with Audrey inside, and was rooted to the ground by this unexpected situation.
“…How is it?”
She probably realized the reason why he was here, and this short question from her entered his surgent heart. Banagher did not speak up as he merely shook his head. “Is that so…” her muttering was mixed in with a sigh, and she lowered her head slightly as she left the elevator. Banagher did not enter as he remained on this passage devoid of any crowd, and heard the door let out an unexpectedly loud shutting sound.
“I just talked with Flaste. Kwani and Ivan’s “Geara Zulus” can be mobilized. We’ll have 6 mobile suits.”
Audrey spoke as the elevator let out a shutting sound. The sound chased away the heavy atmosphere in the room. “Even so, the enemy outnumbers us 12 to 1.” She continued to explain, her face looking grim. “Thanks for the help.” Banagher’s responding voice became unnatural as a result.
“I’ll continue to call out to the Neo Zeon fleet until the moment we fight. It may be useless, but Captain Otto agreed. He said that since we’re going to point our bows at our comrades, it might be better to do this for the sake of the Garencieres team.”
“It won’t be useless. Your words have power, just like yesterday’s speech, or the words you said to the Zeon Republic army…I can’t move people’s hearts like you do.”
I can’t even turn the Captain around. Banagher felt the helplessness filling his heart as he turned his back on Audrey, who showed a surprised expression. He looked upon the gloves that were covered with ash.
These hands are limited in what they do. Everything began the moment I saved Audrey when she floated in the colony space, and there has to be an end—
“That’s why I want to become your shield. No matter what happens, I’ll bring you to “Laplace Box”. I guess that’s the mission the key of the “Box”…the “Unicorn” and I have.”
“Banagher…”
“If you feel the “Box” has such a value, I hope you can use your words to convey the truth. If it’s something that brings disaster, it’s fine to destroy it. That’s what I can only do—”
“I can’t do it.”
The icy voice pierced from behind, causing him to lose his voice over what he was going to continue with. He closed his mouth, looked over his shoulder, and caught sight of Audrey’s face,
“I can’t do it alone…”
The narrowed eyes that were ostensibly staring at Banagher were moist. Banagher’s voice was stuck in his throat as he wanted to call out to her, and hurriedly looked over; at the same time, Audrey suddenly raised her right hand and grabbed him by the chest.
Her fingernails were poking at the fabric of the pilot suit, and the throbbing came from the fingertips, as the emotions that were ostensibly bottled up to its limit finally gave way. The tremor that resonated with his body was embedded into his body and mind, and he could not help but look back at Audrey’s face.
“If I were alone, I won’t be able to say anything. If nobody trusted me, nobody had the same wavelength as me…someone to support me, I too would…”
The emerald eyes looked down, and the shoulders with gold embroidery shuddered. There was no actual proof that could support her; if not for the body facilitating the exchange of body warmth supporting each other, there was no way she could stand on her toes like this—I nearly threw my all onto her, this understanding came with a sharp pain that pierced through his body, and he suddenly put his hands on Audrey’s. He caught her tilting slender body and lifted her up, using both hands to grab onto her frail body that would break at a single notice.
“…Promise me that you’ll definitely come back. Don’t leave me alone.”
Audrey said, and she did not lift her face buried in Banagher’s chest. As he felt her breath reach him through his pilot suit, he embraced her harder, “It’s a promise.” He answered without hesitation.
“I’m a failure as a Newtype…without you reminding me, I’ld have forgotten that you’re Audrey.”
“It’s good in front of everyone, but only at this moment…”
The little head gave off a sweet fragrance amidst the stench that was filled with gun smoke and ozone from the beams. You can’t return to the ‘everyone’ you speak of—he felt the voice of the masked man pass above his hand, trying to take away the warmth from his arms. He reached his hands for Audrey’s face, ostensibly caressing her face as he lifted it.
What he finally saw were tears flowing down from the sealed eyelids hiding the emerald eyes. Banagher embraced Audrey by the shoulders, and let their lips touch. They’re really soft— this sensation had melted his nerves, and their body warmth became one as it circulated in them. The bodies became one, ignoring the air on the empty corridor, and released heat with both of them at the center, causing a warm field to spread around them.
(I suppose it can be said we were had. The final destination is “Industrial 7”…the “Magallanica”.)
The laser communication signal sent from within the ship was not stable as the ship they were on was moving at the fastest battle speed. After sending many mails over, he finally managed to make contact with Martha, and the noise was so heavy even the expressions were hard to tell. “Yes.” Alberto Vist answered as he looked at the dimness behind him.
There was no one else in the communication room of the “General Revil”, and 7 hours passed since the “Banshee” launched. Riddhe Marcenas was practically fused into the darkness several days ago, and at this point, he was in the vast sea of stars several thousand kilometers wide—
(I think it was three years ago when the construction of the “Magallanica” was completed. This self-navigating space colony builder was built to develop the Jupiter Celestial Sphere…I thought Cardeas moved the house there out of his own romantic nostalgia.)
“So he moved the Founder’s cryo when renovating it—I feel this might be a more appropriate way of stating it. Maybe the construction of the “Magallanica” itself was part of the plan to release the “Box”.”
Alberto leaned on the chair, answering Martha who sounded like she was complaining, and started to feel this was a possibility too. The year after the “Magallanica” was completed, the plan to construct the “Unicorn”, the initial phase of the UC plan started. That was the same year when the psycoframe was being experimented for its practicality, and the unwanted test machine—the “Sinanju”, was stolen by the “Sleeves”. In fact, that was a supply disguised as a pirate raid, and though Alberto himself was the one who planned this, Cardeas must have predicted this, set his plan, and decided on a method to hide the “Box” and hand it over.
Anaheim offered its assistance to Neo Zeon and maintained a ‘stability amidst this tense atmosphere’ system for itself to survive; during this time, a secular group in the Federation tried to eradicate Zeonism, and pushed for the space realignment plan while the Zeon Republic was about to be dissolved. Cardeas saw that the Vist Foundation and the Settlement Issues Council had differing standpoints, and used his actions to act as a common disagreement for both parties before waiting to move. This may be how he skillfully blurred his plan.
Create a new conflict and maintain the authority of the Vist Foundation and Anaheim Electronics—this was not his aim; Cardeas had other aims when he thought of opening the “Box”. Alberto was fatigued by this understanding that was ostensibly out of instinct, and felt fear as he felt as if he was thrown into the unknown darkness. He turned his pale face to the communication monitor, (I let someone check through it before!) Martha sounded anxious as she ruffled her blond hair roughly.
(I did attend the completion ceremony, and I witnessed the movement of the mansion personally. The yard I grew up on actually has the “Laplace Box” in it…can you imagine?)
“I investigated through the intel data of the “Magallanica”. If we’re looking at the construct, there’s no sign of any special works underneath the house. Maybe it’s a disguise job done by the Founder’s direct organization, and the colony association manager may be an accomplice.”
(It’s probably the vice-chairman of the Foundation, Uncle Julst. Looking at his personality, it’s not weird for him to help Cardeas…in this case, we’ll have to look into something else.)
Martha was biting her fingernails, ostensibly thinking of the management team that wanted to take her down, and her face resembled the queen in a fairy tale who was told by the magic mirror she was dying. Maybe it’s all over.These passive words appeared in Alberto’s slurred mind. (How’s your situation there?) Upon hearing Martha’s voice, he hurriedly lifted his head.
“We’re late here. The “Banshee” is hurrying there, but the Neo Zeon fleet will reach the “Nahel Argama” first. We’ll look at the developments of the battle, and will probably interfere with their battle. Its location makes it hard to reach “Industrial 7” first.”
(It’s a complete defeat on our part to withdraw all people involved with the Foundation from “Industrial 7”. If anyone’s around, maybe we could have sent it into the “Magallanica” first.)
“What about the Anaheim related people off to repair the colony?”
(They’re not related to the Foundation. Even if we let them handle the media, they’re not people who can approach the “Box”…when will the “General Revil” reach there?)
“Another 8 hours. We can only leave it to the “Banshee” for now.”
If Martha knew the pilot was the eldest son of the Marcenas family, what expression would she have? Alberto suddenly thought of this, and felt surprised by the lack of tentativeness in his heart, and looked at Martha in the eyes as they were contorted due to the noise. On a closer look, her eyes were showing wrinkles that were matching her age, and as he saw this and again felt something end, (It can’t be helped.) Martha muttered, her expression showing a cold glint.
(The “Nahel Argama” and Neo Zeon are getting too close to the “Box”, and we can’t bet on uncertain factors. It looks like we have to use our final option.)
“Final option…?”
(I contacted Chairman Ronan; until the end of this incident, the Foundation will work together with the Settlement Issues Council. I told the Captain through the Senate Council that the “General Revil” is not to approach too close to “Industrial 7”.)
The glint beneath the noise was more chilling than the sudden news. The overly strong noise was not because of reception issues on his side; Alberto realized at this point that Martha was probably on the move too, and gasped when he realized her destination. She, who should be in the Far East base on earth, was headed with Ronan Marcenas to somewhere—
“Are you going to use that…!?”
There was no other guesses to be made, and Alberto inadvertently got up from the console. (So you already knew.) Martha said calmly.
(We must prevent the “Box” from being released. In the worst case, even if we have to destroy the “Box” itself…)
“Destroying the key is one thing, but if you destroy the “Box”…! And the moment to call back the “Banshee” is—”
(The fact that the Foundation and the Federation is working together to eradicate the “Box” will become a whole new basis of coexistence for us.)
The stare looking through the monitor did not move, and Martha spoke with a lecturing tone. “As for the “Banshee”, we can only treat it as a bare minimum sacrifice, though I do feel sorry for the puppet inside.)
She spoke without any trace of emotion, and reclaimed her demonic expression, showing a firm glint amidst the flying noise. Puppet, this term overlapped the blue glass-like eyes, and Alberto’s body floated from the chair with nowhere else to head to. The ‘final method’ would not be picky about what it destroys. The “Box”, she; they would all be destroyed from this world. He could touch it if he were a step closer, and he came here for this particular reason—
(Let’s just wait for the “Banshee” first. If it defeats the “Unicorn”, we have a chance to take the “Box” back. Let’s see what it can do.)
The bright red lips throbbed, showing her bewitching smile like usual. Alberto felt the situation was gradually slipping out of control.
The duty crew on the bridge was dressed in heavy normal suits, and they were seated at their consoles; this was a common atmosphere to Mineva Lao Zabi, who spent her infancy in battleships. She passed through the door, immediately faced Otto, who was seated on the Captain’s seat, and her body that was dressed in white normal suit just like them moved to the middle of the bridge.
“All hands, use type-A armaments.” “All cannons activated, T-minue 1,200 till the first enemy wave reaches our sensor circle.” “Minovsky Particles, scattered to battle mode. All mobile suits are ready for launch.” In the midst of these voices, “Please come here.” Otto said as he pointed to the Commander’s seat. The Commander seat in a battleship signified a higher rank than a ship captain. This was not a position that anyone could simply sit on, and Mineva gave a doubtful look back, but Otto did not falter in his stare as he prompted her to sit.
“You have such a privilege. Here.”
There was no pretense in his smile, and after saying that, he turned his tense face back at the main screen. “First wave of enemy scattered.” Upon hearing the sensor operator’s voice, “They’re observing our movements and preventing us from using the hyper-mega particle cannon.” Otto answered, showing the expression of a commander who was unable to be bothered with Mineva. In contrast, First Officer Liam approached her, “You can attach the helmet to the side of the seat” and said earnestly. Mineva followed her instruction, and looked at the three dimensional display shown on the screen. The time was GMT 0758, and the Neo Zeon fleet markers aligned in front of the shoal space region were ostensibly starting to scatter.
“Now’s just a matter of showing the information we can get from the optical sensors. We can’t catch sight of each other on the radar, and we’ll open the cannons 20 minutes later.”
Liam said. Mineva nodded to this female officer who seemed composed, and attached her backpack to the seat. She felt the delayed regret over not bringing a drinking straw.
“Please use this microphone. Your voice will be translated into a light signal and sent out. It’s very likely our opponents will carry out optical sensors on our side, so the light signal should be able to reach them. We’ll still send the voice and visual over, but do not be too expectant on the effects.”
“Then, won’t it be difficult for me to prove my identity?”
“That will depends on what you say, Your Highness.” Otto interrupted while the bridge crew was in the middle of a lull. “You have your personal vocal charisma, so please pass it on to your countrymen. Just call out to their hearts just like what you said to us.”
Mineva felt Otto look at her in the eyes as he said this, and Mihiro and the rest of the bridge crew nodded as they looked back from their seats. “I understand.” With an unfaltering expression, she reached her hand for the microphone on the armrest. She clasped onto the microphone that felt exceptionally heavy, irregardless of zero gravity, and looked outside the window at the vast black space.
Calling out to the heart—this was not something she could do as and when she wanted to, and neither was it something she could randomly do so. She once wondered whether she would be betraying her parents’ soulds for advising stubborn soldiers to change their minds, the ones who were praying for Zeon’s revival, those who saw her as a star of revival. Even if she was denying the Side co-prosperity ring Full Frontal talked about with her emotions, there was nothing that could clearly debunk his theory.
However, the words flowed out naturally. Trusting each other, calling out to each other, she felt the thoughts forge themselves in her heart, and rise up her throat as a heat source. There’s no way back now, Mineva concluded in her heart. She bet on the possibilities formed by this ship that combined two into one, she believed in the power that supported her from behind, this power that was similar to pressure, and at this point, she just needed to think of moving forward.
She sensed that she was being abnormally calm. Is it because the owner of the warm hands gave my body strength? Her tongue tip licked her lips that were still felt lubricated by the sensation back then, felt heat pass through her body, and the next moment, she emptied her mind and heart. Her lips approached the microphone, and she said out the first line,
“Greetings to the Neo Zeon fleet in front of us. I am Mineva Lao Zabi.”
(Currently, I am making this broadcast from the Earth Federation’s Londo Bell ship “Nahel Argama”. I am not being detained as a prisoner, and I am not forced to appeal to you. What I want to say next is of my own accord. Please listen to me before we head into battle.)
Audrey was fighting. Banagher felt her voice engulf his heart and nudge it as he flew through the mobile suit deck like an arrow.
The “Unicorn”, standing at the partition that was covered in ash, slowly expanded in his sights. The machine had undergone what Takuya described as a Full Armor Plan, and showed its breathtaking force once it appeared in front of him. The mechanical arms on both sides were equipped with two Beam Gatling guns, and there was a shield on each side. On the back, there was a similar Gatling gun cum shield sets, with two Hyper Bazookas, fastened on the rear sides of the backpack. The bazookas protruding from the shoulders were about to touch the ceiling, and there were additional mounting frames for extra weapons. Besides the three anti-ship missile launchers equipped on both sides, one could see the red heads of the hand grenades lined in a bunch on left and right as well. There were also another 12 grenades, expanded to a mobile suit’s size, equipped on both sides of the calves, and reinforced the impression that it was completely covered with weapons. The heavily equipped had completely changed the silhouette of the machine, and transformed it into an ancient warrior, equipped with bunches of blades and spears—as dignified as a Japanese warrior or samurai.
Amongst them, the biggest feature was the large boosters equipped on the back as a mean to offset the increased mass from the added armaments. These booster rockets, taken from the thrusters of the 94 Base Jabber, were bundled together in a pair through the modified Base Jabber’s frame attachments, causing the cylinders to extend from the back, its length matching that of an enemy unit’s height. Because of this, the unit could not enter the hangar. As it stood in the middle of the deck, the “Unicorn”, nicely put, resembled an Archangel with its wings folded, and bluntly put, was a demon with two extravagantly large tails. If one counted the beam rifled wielded in the hand, the Vulcan guns equipped on the head, the physical bullets, mega-cannons, and missiles cannons, there would be a total of 17. While there would be skepticism as to whether it would be appropriate to call it Full Armor, there was no doubt it had the most firepower for a single mobile suit.
The missile launches were transferred from the “Stark Jegan”, and the grenade latches were taken from the stocks of the Jegan-types. We’ll only use whatever we have, it seemed it was just as Takuya had said. We actually…Banagher however swallowed what he wanted to say, and approached Takuya, who was near the cockpit hatch. He was checking the attachments of the additional parts, and the mechanics in Jonas Gibney’s group opened the access hatch, checking the machine and the wiring of the optional armaments. Takuya, upon noticing Banagher, wiped the bottom of his nose that was stained in machine oil, “I told you I’ll make it in time, right?” He boasted proudly.
“You can fire the optional armaments in your hands and the equipment on your back remotely. There’s no blind spot all around! Leave it to me!”
“I don’t have that many reticules!”
“It can work. This guy has the Intention Automatic System on board, so it can help you control the reticules to a certain extent. Once you sense an enemy’s killing intent, this Lord “Unicorn” will help you aim at it.”
Perhaps he was obsessed with some war story. As he watched Takuya say the term ‘killing intent’ with the expression on his face, Banagher sighed, “Easier said then done…” But while he was in the midst of uttering some bitter words, “This isn’t of complete nonsense.” Another voice rang, and Banagher looked up in response. He saw Aaron Terziff, dressed in Anaheim’s clothes, reach his hand for the cockpit cover and land at where they were.
“I checked through the data of the Destroy Mode activation, and my suspicions are verified. The light given from the psycoframe is the result of the psycowave overload. Your will, your thoughts caused the psycoframe to glow.”
Banagher grabbed onto Aaron’s arm as the latter nearly floated by due to excessive force, and pulled him to the hatch, “My will…?” Aaron looked back at a frowning Banagher, “I guess that’s correct.” and answered with a calm voice.
“A few days ago, I mentioned about the psyco field that stopped “Axis”. The same phenomenon as back then happened in this “Unicorn” machine. It isn’t just simply the psycommu assisting; the psycoframe even has a conversion mechanism, turning the gathered psycowaves into light, which in turn in converted into physical energy. Of course, this initially has no characteristic; nothing can be used for mechanical control theory. The only fact is that the overload of psycowaves became a force that has tangible properties. Do you understand what this is about? You are the power source of the “Unicorn”. Of course, it does need a generator, and the electricity system is running normally. However, the strange power that appears when it transforms into a “Gundam” comes from you. You can say that your head is its heart, and the “Unicorn” is the body that moves using that as the power source. This is no longer something that can be described as a mobile suit, but an expanded 20m tall ‘human’…a giant.”
While he did personally experience it, Banagher found this explanation too hard to accept. He could not hide his startled look, was clearly at a loss of what to do, and turned to Takuya. The latter probably heard the same time, and nodded with an approving look, “Well, the important thing is,” he folded his arms, and spoke,
“Maintain your vitality. It’ll become energy and allow the “Unicorn” to showcase its monsterous power on the battlefield. You’re not allowed to say that you can’t do anything. Think that you can do it, you will show it to everyone, fight on with your will, and the “Unicorn” will respond to you…that’s how it is, right, Mr Aaron?”
“Unfortunately, I have to agree to this line. In terms of current technology, it’s already a tough thing to carry out tests and set a hypothesis for the phenomenon. It’ll probably take about 10,20 years to anaglyse the data of theis “Unicorn” and compiled it, and that’s if the government will allow people to research on such a dangerous thing.
Aaron answered with a bitter smile as he looked back at the lone horn of the “Unicorn”. Lingering thoughts, he repeated what Audrey had once said, and looked at that emotionless face with the facemask. While the thing existing at this place was simply a machine, but if one were to treat it as a ‘human’ 20m tall, a lot of inexplicable things could be explained. Perhaps, just like him, the “Unicorn” was growing, evolving. Though it was buried in the capabilities called the Newtype-Destroy System, it had the mission to guide a true Newtype to where the “Box” was—this giant had both light and darkness, contrasting elements. He was trained by the thoughts and lives of everyone related to him, managed to learn how to control these two elements, and unknowingly found the form he should take…
“Even though the system may not be as complete as that of the “Unicorn”, the similar situation can be applied to all machines equipped with psycoframes. It is an assumption, but if the “Unicorn” and “Kshatriya” are able to work together successful, there’s a possibility that the psyco field can be converted into a weapon.”
Aaron said. “Kshatriya?” Banagher suddenly recovered, and asked.
“When different machines let out a resonance, the psycoframe will use the pilot as a medium and expand the reception range. It’s the same as “Axis Shock”; when two machines’ psycoframes resonance perfectly, they may be able to create a ‘field’ that can push an asteroid, but I guess it is a dream. You can’t call something you can’t control a weapon, so just treat this as reference.”
To Banagher, who had personally experienced the mysterious light field against the black “Unicorn”, the “Banshee”, this was truly a refreshing dream. Aaron removed the smile on his face as he looked at the massive body of the “Kshatriya”, located at the aft.
“What I’m concerned with, is that the pilot’s psycowaves, the source of the phenomenon, will be largely affected by the psychological state. If Lieutenant Marida’s emotions are unstable, she might cause you to be adversely affected.”
Aaron’s last words were obviously hushed down. “No need to worry about that.” But Banagher immediately answered as he avoided Aaron’s stare and looked over at the “Kshatriya”. The machine had lost its right hand, and its right arm was equipped with two Beam Gatling guns. The 4 long barreled guns looking like a prothestic, giving it a different menacing vibe as compared to before. Banagher ostensibly spotted Marida’s pilot suit pass by from its front and enter the cockpit through the hatch in the belly.
Follow your heart. Zinnerman’s voice that rang through the wireless communicator in the chaos the previous day had entered Banagher’s ears. While that had unraveled the curse binding upon her, what exactly was the thing supporting her to fight? Banagher looked around, unconsciously trying to look for Zinnerman, who definitely could not be around, “I’ll be right back”, and left these words to Takuya before leaving the scene.
He moved diagonally across the deck, resounding with Audrey’s voice, and grabbed the cockpit hatch of the “Kshatriya”. “Miss Marida.” Banagher called out, looked up at him, “What is it?” and answered placidly. Banagher however was suddenly at a loss of what to say in response to this question. He looked around the cockpit, where the monitor panels could be changed, and only the insides would be repaired. “Erm, are you alright?” He asked to no avail.
“The Beam Gatling guns were originally developed for the “Kshatriya” use. There is no issues in the synchronization.”
“No, I mean your body. Are you hurting right now…?”
This isn’t the thing to talk about now.Marida seemed to have realized this faster than the speaker; her hand that was proceeding with the system checks stopped, and she again looked up to him. Banagher could not look at her directly, lowered his head “…Sorry.” He muttered as he grasped at the cockpit hatch for no reason at all.
“I met with the Captain, but we didn’t manage to talk properly…”
“I see.”
“He must have been worried about you, Miss Marida. He definitely must be finding it difficult to face you now—”
“Banagher.”
Banagher felt as if he was poked in the forehead in response to his words. “Don’t think of bearing everything by yourself.” Marida stared through the display board at Banagher, who lifted his head, and continued on,
“You’re not alone. You still have me supporting behind.”
“Miss Marida…”
“I do have someone supporting me from behind. I know this even without talking to him.”
Her expression was somewhat eased, and she continued with her system checks again. “You do have someone you want to support, don’t you? Just think of her.” Her answer overlapped with Audrey’s voice that was aired through the wireless, causing Banagher to feel new warmth burning in him. He, Marida, and Audrey were no longer weeds without roots; they were all in a ring of mutual support, bonds. Banagher understood that there were certain things stronger than bloodlines, birth; fetters that could support his footing, and chuckled, answering, “Got it.” He wanted to leave the cockpit as such, but another thought caused him to grab the entrance again.
“Miss Marida, what do you like to eat?”
“Why this out of a sudden?”
She lifted her face nonchalantly and blinked her eyes. “There’s something at least, right?” Banagher asked again, and Marida showed a serious pondering look. “Ice cream…I guess.” This was the first time he heard such a halting tone from her. “There’s a shop that sells nice ones on “Industrial 7”. Banagher then poked his head forward and said this.
“We’ll get out of this situation. We’ll all go there afterwards.”
“Ahh…”
“It’s a promise. I’ll definitely lead you there.”
The troubled expression broke into a smile, “I understand. I’ll be looking forward to it.” Marida answered. We do have this tomorrow, this future; even if there isn’t one, I want to personally build it. Banagher decided in his heart. “I’ll see you later then.” He said, and kicked himself away from the cockpit hatch. We still have a lot of things to do. He muttered in his heart, and returned to the fully armed “Unicorn”. The white giant was engulfed by Audrey’s voice, echoing through the deck, and was ostensibly waiting for its owner to return.
(It isn’t about which side is the correct one. We are incomplete if we take one side. I know the Spacenoids and Earthnoids are existences that are like two sides of a mirror…)
“But even if one side conquers the other, it will not solve the problem. The idea to build high walls and ignore each other is also incorrect. Please do not be afraid of change; after the trials we had since the One Year War, perhaps we have finally found a chance to progress. If you believe in a kind future for humanity, in both Space and Earth, I hope you can let us pass through. As dignified warriors of Zeon, I hope you display the courage to follow your heart.”
Mineva spoke till this point, switched off the wireless communicator, and reached a hand to her throat, indicating that she was thirsty. Otto handed her the drinking tube as he looked over at the main screen. There was no movement in the Neo Zeon fleet markers; they were divided in 5 groups of 3 ships, lined in a formation of 3 rows, waiting along the “Nahel Argama” projected path.
“How is it?”
“No response. The Minovsky Particle density is increasing.”
The Sensor Operator answered, and it was a reality—that words alone could not change, and could not save. There were some things that could not be understood without fighting for with all their might. Otto sighed and looked at Liam; once they managed to establish understanding through this, he looked at Mineva, only to find her already looking back at him. You sure? There was no need to ask verbally, as her eyes told him that it was alright. Otto nodded back, “Prepare for anti-air combat!” And hollered, signifying the start to this battle.
“Mobile suit squadron, proceed forward. The formation will be as notified before. All cannons, begin firing once we enter range.”
The recitations and commands echoed at once, and the alarm rang, indicating that they were to prepare for battle. There was still 10 minutes until they made contact, and it was about time for any lucky long-ranged missiles to hit them. Otto stared at the markers on the screen, and grabbed the wireless on the armrest. “This is the Captain to the RX-0. Banagher, do you hear me?” Upon hearing Otto’s voice, Mineva, who just put on her helmet, glanced over.
(Yes, I hear you.)
“The enemy wants to get rid of us before we enter the Shoal Space region. Don’t mind about the rear, and just focus on moving forward. We’ll move forward towards the “Unicorn”.”
(Understood.)
“I know I really shouldn’t say such things when I’m asking an ordinary civilian to be the vanguard, but don’t force yourself. You must return alive. It’s meaningless if we simply reach the “Box”.”
After a slight pause, (Understood), a voice returned, and it sounded as if the pilot had been through many battlefields. We can only move forward and pray that he can lead a path for us foolish Oldtypes. He felt bitterness in his mouth, and said, “Good luck.”
(The “Kshatriya” will leave the ship after the RX-0. All units, proceed to the designated Catapult Decks)
(Lieutenant Marida Cruz, Romeo 010 and Juliet 006 will proceed with defense. Lieutenant, please backup the RX-0.)
(Roger that.)
(The Garencieres Team “Geara Zulus”, Golf 001 and 002 are to stay back and protect immediate cover. Shoot down any enemies within a 10km radius.)
(Roger that. They’re our enemies, no need to show any glamor this time.)
(To all the bastards on the gun turrets! Our enemies are rebels unwilling to listen to the Princess. Don’t hold back and show those Federation princes how the Garencieres team fights!)
In the midst of the orderly departure announcements, there was a holler that was not very elegant, to say the least. Marida, Flaste, and the subordinates had already known which forts they were to man in this ship; the voices echoed, and Zinnerman slowly lifted his head. During this time, the voices still echoed through the ship’s broadcast, slowly stirring the heavy atmosphere in the detention room.
(All hands, our immediate priority is to reach the Shoal Space Region. Once we can enter the space wreckage, there is a chance for us to shake off our pursuers. The enemy will probably have difficult organizing a coordinated action.)
It’s the opposite, isn’t it? Zinnerman instinctively decided as his body shuddered, and looked over at the loudspeaker as Otto’s voice boomed.
Captain Tennyson Baguette, commander of the Tennyson fleet, had once taken part in the conflict that caused the Shoal Space Region, the Battle of Loum. That man would make trips down to the Shoal Space Region for inspection when staying at Palau, and create space charts for his own use; if it were him, he would use the Shoal Space Region as a weapon. Once he determined that the enemy would be hard to deal with, he would lure them into the Region and deal them the fatal blow.
Did that Flaste forget? He was at the Captain’s Meeting! Zinnerman cussed out in his mind as he listened in on the wireless voice. He did not hear any suspicious tone at all, as Alec, Tomura and the rest of the crew could be heard along with the “Nahel Argama” crew. What a bunch of fools! Why am I feeling so anxious? He looked around the room that was covered with mats, and then looked over at the metal door. There was a communication panel on the passage; he thought he had to contact the bridge, and just when he was about to take a step forward, he was surprised that he actually stood up without knowing.
This was a predicament he did not anticipate a few seconds ago. His body, which should have become a hollow, actually moved on its own. He merely felt exasperated by how useless his subordinates were, wanted to lash out at them, and ended up feeling zealous. What exactly is going on here? He looked surprised, confused, shaken as he stood blankly, and again turned his stare to the light shining in from the outside. The faint light shining into the detention room could not reach inside, but if he took just a single step, he could reach out for it.
But you managed to get something in return, right?
The phantom standing at the door, the rigid voice echoed clearly in his mind. That bastard really left it opened and left me alone, “Seriously…” he let out a hoarse voice, and stared at the white light shining on the corridor. He felt the luminosity seemed to have increased as compared to before, and the light from the fluorescent panels that could be seen everywhere became as dazzling as ever.
Banagher cautiously stepped on the pedal, and before he could take a step forward completely, he felt a resistance pressing on the unit from the back. He summoned the balancer settings on the display board, for the booster rockets equipped on the backpack seemed to have exerted more torque than he had expected. He chose the automatic adjustment function that would react with the psycommu, and as he was calibrating the values (Hey Micott!?) Takuya’s voice rang through the wireless.
He inadvertently lifted his head, looked around, and spotted the normal suit ignoring the frantic outstretched arms of Takuya and Aaron as she leapt from the floor and to the forefront of the “Unicorn”; Haro, nestled in her arms, brought some color on the all-view monitor. He then closed his helmet visor, and opened the cockpit hatch. The air inside flowered out to the mobile suit deck that was in a vacuum; the sound of wind gushing away became distant, and the normal suit that leapt in blocked his sights.
She passed through the hatch, and the momentum carried her past the display board, causing them to end up in each other’s arms through a collision-like manner. (Are you okay, Banagher?) Banagher watched Haro slip out from her hands and jump about in the cockpit as it flapped about, and then put his hand on the normal suit Micott was definitely in. Micott Bartsch had her head buried in his chest, and did not have any intention to raise it. Their helmets touched each other, letting out a thud, and he heard a sobbing, frantic breath.
“Don’t force yourself just because you’re hailed as a Newtype.”
This voice was mixed in amongst his breath, and after leaning on each other for just a moment, she quickly lifted her head, “Right, I’m satisfied now. Go on now.” and showed a smile through the visor. I really couldn’t do anything for this girl…he looked back at her moist glittering eyes as he experienced this bitterness, and smiled as he answered, “I’m going now. I’ll leave Haro with you.” He did not believe that he could give a nice smile, “I’ll be waiting with everyone.” But Micott answered as such, and carried Haro as she floated through the hatch.
(You’re too slow, Newtype!)
Soon after he watched Micott leave, the latter not looking back, there was a holler ringing in the helmet, shooing away all unhappiness. It was Lieutenant Pool in Romeo 010. Banagher, upon seeing the “ReZEL” take a step forward from the hangar, “Understood!” yelled back, closed the hatch, and let the “Unicorn” move forward. He turned around, taking note of the boosters on his back, and just when he was about to advance to the elevator leading to the catapult deck (Don’t take all the enemies yourself!) the Lieutenant continued.
(Don’t over-commit to them. Leave the remaining machines that had passed by to us. Don’t think too much about them.)
(It’s finally our show now. I can’t sleep well if we have to use a kid as our shield.)
Ensign Mako in Juliet 006 interjected at the same time. He was one of the backup pilots of the “Nahel Argama”, but he did come up with the plan to reassemble the spare parts back into a machine, a “Stark Jegan” that could be deployed in cases of emergency, so he was no ordinary personnel. He recalled their bold expressions, “Understood. Please take care of me.” and answered back. Once the elevator had risen, he stepped on the pedal. (Master Banagher.) a respectful voice different from before immediately rang, causing him to be a tad slower in getting on the catapult deck.
(Once the path to “Industrial 7” is opened, we’ll force our way into “Magallanica”. Please do not force yourself.)
It was Gael. He, who was familiar with the construct of the “Magallanica”, was in charge of leading Conroy and the ECOAS members. (Got it. I hope you’ll be fine too, Mr Gael.) Banagher answered.
(If the “Box” is really on the “Magallanica”, I guess I know where it is. Even if Frontal takes the initiative, there’s a chance to snatch it back. Please take care of yourself.)
(Our “Lotos” will be acting as moving cannons on the ship until we reach our destination. We’ll meet again on the “Magallanica” again. Squad Leader Daguza managed to preserve your life. Don’t ruin it.)
Conroy then followed up. (Path’s clear. RX-0, please launch.) At the same time, Mihiro’s voice could be heard, “Understood!” and Banagher answered them as he latched the “Unicorn” onto the catapult. Through the opened gate, he saw the catapult deck extended to the bow, moved his sights higher, and saw the space that disappeared into vast eternal darkness.
There was the icy vacuum and the warmth of many supporting him from behind. His body inadvertently shuddered as it stood on the divide, and he recalled the desires he discussed with Audrey, but at this point, it was a luxury. She, who continued to advise the Neo Zeon fleet to retreat, had advanced into the battlefield earlier than he did. As long as they could survive, they could only to talk for as long as he could. They could definitely affirm the warmth of each other, just as they did a while back.
I won’t die. I’ll definitely come back. Banagher exerted strength in his abdomen, and stared into the space in front of him.
“Banagher Links, “Unicorn Gundam”, launching!”
The catapult, powered by a linear thrust, started to glide, and the booster rockets on the back lit at the same time, causing a tremor more intense than usual to rock the cockpit. The “Unicorn” exerted the full power of its booster rockets the moment it was launched, dragging a long thruster flare as lit flew into the vacuum. The light became a large membrane that appeared behind the machine, and the lone-horned beast that had gained wings immediately left the mothership.
They had to break through the wall Full Frontal had constructed, and advance to the slumbering land of the “Laplace Box”. The preceding thoughts exploded in a thin flash of light on his forehead, causing Banagher to sense that he was resonating with the psycommu. The psycoframe was activated, the armor plates on each other slid apart, and the machine experienced an uneven torque as it accelerated and rolled to the side. Once it finished, the lone horn on the forehead broke into a V-sign, the dual-eye sensors flashed as it showed itself from the facemask, and the machine that had obtained the appearance of a “Gundam” caused the psycoframe to glow all over its body.
“This can work…!”
The machine moved according to the strength released by his body and mind; the giant become one with him, a human—Banagher raced on with the target being the space where the enemy fleet set camp. The thruster flares resonated with the red fluorescent light, and the accelerating “Unicorn Gundam” glided in space like a comet.
The unit had many cannons protruding from its back, and distanced itself rapidly as it was pushed by the large thruster flare. This scene awakened the memory that was implanted in her before she was born, the words that had become familiar with her; Marida let out a voice that was ostensibly a sigh,
“”Gundam”…”
This word unconditionally awakened the hostility within her, and her sisters, who were nurtured in the icy capsules, had viewed this as an enemy they had to defeat—however, she could no longer feel anything at this point. The only understanding she had of it was that it carried the familiar soul of Banagher, a vessel with his own thoughts, nothing more, nothing less. Marida found it intriguing, and let the “Kshatriya” move forward from the elevator that had arrived at the top. The moss-green machine closed the binders on its shoulders, trying to get through to the catapult exit. Its massive body, which had excessive specifications, stood on the catapult dangling in vacuum.
Perhaps it’s the ‘light’ I’ve been pursuing. The machine’s large size meant that it was unable to enter the catapult, and as she waited in the machine for the permit to launch, Marida started to dwelve into her thoughts. The light was born in the artificially-made body, the light had been robbed from the belly; this light has been changing its form all the time, for it has to shine into the unknown tomorrow and future. No matter how much I try to pursue it, I can’t catch up to it no matter how I pursue after it. I understood it for a long time, and because I understood, I looked away, and stopped in the darkness together with those who had lost their light. I keep looking for a flicker of light in others, but I never thought that I can be the light for others.
It’s different now. I can be the ‘light’. I have a life supporting this body of mine that has nowhere to go, the person who gave me the unique name Marida Cruz, the one who pointed me to the only thing I can follow.
“Follow my heart…is it…?”
She muttered as she put her hands on the ball-shaped control sticks. Had that man, who always hated to be called ‘master’, yet to find where his ‘light’ is? As she thought about this and looked behind, (We have a large number of incoming heat sources!) A tense voice rang through the wireless, causing Marida and the machine to look down in unison.
(20, 30…we’ve many of them approaching fast!)
(Evasive maneuver! Release the dummy meteorites! Don’t hit the launching mobile suits!)
Captain Otto’s voice rang, and the hull of the “Nahel Argama” experienced inertial gravity. Marida felt the hull move vastly to the right, and gathered her thoughts at the approaching killing intent, which had become a wall in front of her. The ones approach in an overly straight line however were not mobile suits, but long ranged missiles or something similar. Once she affirmed this, her body reacted faster than her thoughts, (Launch process aborted.) and she took initiative, saying,
“Marida Cruz, “Kshatriya”, launching!”
The main thrusters hidden in the 4 binders let out thruster flares, and the “Kshatriya” left the catapult deck as it rose in a straight trajectory. It was impossible to have 100% output, but the balance was not too bad, and the damaged parts had lightened the machine, so she could offset the imbalance if she could control it well. As she flew in the G-force pressing down from above, Marida finished her affirmations within 3 seconds, and immediately turned the machine, which had risen by several kilometers, forward. The 4 binders flapped, and once the “Kshatriya” raised the twin barreled Beam Gatling guns on the right arm forward, it turned into a block of thruster flare as it advanced briskly.
There were 32 incoming missiles, and though they were suppressing shots fired with the help of the optical sensors, but several of them were on course to the “Nahel Argama” path. The “Unicorn Gundam” preceding her seemed to have sensed the same killing intent, “Leave them, Banagher!” and Marida, who had realized this, shouted out as she accelerated the “Kshatriya”.
“I’ll handle this! Move forward!”
The mobile suit squadron swarming from behind the missiles was pressuring her field of senses, and it seemed Tennyson’s fleet intended to crush them with its full strength. (Got it! I’ll leave it to you!) Once she actually heard Banagher’s voice, she gathered her consciousness on her field of senses that was synchronizing with the psycommu. 5, 6…she caught the vibration of the missiles flying in a straight line, read their paths, and released her sudden will to fight in the form of a voice.
“Funnels, go!”
The wing-like binders expanded throughout, and the several funnels hidden within flew out. The mini automatic cannons were controlled by the psycommu as they glided out in a zig-zag, and Marida’s consciousness followed them into the void. The incoming missiles loomed, and she could clearly sense the structures of the warheads that had abandoned their propulsion rockets. In an instant, which felt like an eternity, the funnels that were synchronized with the consciousness fired mega particle cannons, and the scorching light exploded within her senses.
This scene immediately became reality as it appeared in Marida’s eyes, agitating her senses. There were more than 10 exploded fireballs expanding in the “Nahel Argama” way, gradually covering the silhouette of the “Unicorn Gundam” that was moving away. The lights signifying the beginning of the battle exploded between the two armies, lighting the long road to “Industrial 7” like a torch.
The idling sound of the nuclear rocket engine echoed in the ship, and unlike a jet engine, it felt as boring as that of an air-conditioner. Unlike the Dodai Kai that was to be used only in gravity, the Base Jabbers used in space did not have much room.
Alberto grabbed onto the seat's back that was surrounded by consoles, moved his body towards the co-pilot seat, and turned his body with much difficulty in an attempt not to touch the cluster of buttons. After much effort, he finally managed to put his rear into the cramped seat, and just when the backpack of his normal suit was to be fastened to the attachments, (Mr Alberto, will you kindly reconsider?) Captain Maseki’s voice rang through the wireless.
(Our fleet has no order to necessarily interfere with this battle. If anything happens to you, the responsibility will fall upon me.)
The hired Captain only focused on his own issues, and did not say anything else. He followed the instructions given by the Vist Foundation, being mindful of the attitudes of the Senate Council members backing Alberto, and notably, that of the Empress of the Moon that had tamed them all. I’m still in aunt’s hands now. Once he again realized that he had never escaped from her clutches, Alberto turned his sights to the pilot seat at his left. He nodded at the pilot, who was looking back uneasily, and prompted the latter to launch, “I should have explained before.” He said into the wireless communicator shamelessly,
“I have no intentions of joining the battle. I just want to use the resonance function of the psycoframe to support the “Banshee”.”
He operated the display monitor on the console and summoned the visual of the wide platform onto the back of the pilot seat. There were 8 large containers carrying spare parts of the “Banshee” at the section originally used for ferrying mobile suits, 4 on top, 4 at the bottom, fastened with cable. Leaving aside the fact that he could have provided support by equipping armaments, it was normal for Maseki and the pilot to find it strange that Alberto was claiming to support by ferrying spare parts over. The “Axis Shock” had proven that unknown characteristics of the psycommu, and these ordinary soldiers definitely would not understand. Even Alberto, who had personally witnessed the creation of the field, did not dare to say how well acquainted he was.
“The spare parts on this Base Jabber have psycoframe on them, enough to build a Unicorn-unit. The more it can resonate, the more beneficial it will be for the “Banshee”.”
(The Moon observatory has caught sight of battle lights. They have begun. You’ll be entering the battlefield.)
“Just what I want. The more agitated the battlefield is, the easier it is to capture the “Banshee” psycowaves. We’ll be pulled together once I approach.”
The psycofield would expand vastly due to resonance, and if he entered the battlefield that would be filled with it, he might be able to pick up the psycowaves of Ple Twelve—Marida Cruz. While there was no evidence, Alberto had no other deduction to rely on, and got ready for the launch impact. The generator soon got louder, (But the psycoframe has no psycommu function, it’s just an ordinary metal…!) and reverberated together with Maseki’s growl.
“That should have been the case, but the data shows something more. There’s still value in trying this out.)
Alberto did not have confidence that he could only to say such baseless words unabashedly as he cut off the communication on his side, and looked over at the black space on the other side of the opened gate. There was more than 50,000km from this point to the battlefield, the “General Revil” was moving at maximum battle speed, and the Base Jabber, using the catapult force and the booster rockets equipped on both sides, would probably reach the battlefield an hour and a half later than the “Banshee”. The chances of the “Banshee” and “Unicorn” meeting immediately was nearly zero in this space filled with Minovsky particles, amidst the Shoal Space region filled with the debris of many colonies. If successful, he would be able to reach the “Banshee” before the two machines meet.
It was useless to think about what would happen later on, but the one thing he was certain was that he would be unable to interfere if he did not do this. He would lose the chance to get back Marida Cruz forward, and could only watch the unshakeable fact as the ‘final gambit’ activates. As long as there was a reason for him to accept the happenings around him, it was enough; simply put, he wanted to reason to take the first step forward. Once he affirmed this in his heart, he stared at the icy darkness, the darkness that appeared in front of his eyes once he escaped from his aunt’s clutches. Amidst it, there was darkness in the sapphire blue eyes, ostensibly leading into the deep sea—
“I won’t let you be taken by anyone. I must personally…”
As he unwittingly muttered, “We’re launching. There’ll be a massive G-force pressing on us. Please be prepared.” the pilot spoke up, and Alberto again pressed his helmet onto the headrest. The catapult deck leading to the bow lights its guiding lights, and the countdown at the gate pointed to zero. The nuclear engine buzzed till its climax, and the Base Jabber started to move forward.
The Sub-Flight System had two containers on its flat frame, and left the “General Revil” through its own thrust. It then lowered its relative velocity, flying safely as if it were a civilian space shuttle. Once its displacement from the “General Revil” was 3km, the Base Jabber’s assist boosters lit up, and it proceeded with the first acceleration. The G-force bordering on danger pressed upon Alberto’s body, and he was crushed onto the co-pilot before he could groan.
The rubbing vibration echoed within the cockpit, and the blood in the entire body gathered at the back. The hands grabbing at the armrests were unable to move, the saliva flowing out from the side of his lips, climbing onto his trembling cheeks. His darkened vision narrowed hastily, and just as he felt he was about to lose consciousness, he continued to stare at the Moon glowing in front of him.
He was headed to a distant place neither his departed father’s soul nor Martha’s demonic clutches could reach. Without knowing whether he was falling or rising, he raced through the space of eternal night, being alone for the first time.
The Musaka-class cruisers, when viewed from above, had the shape of an acute isosceles triangle, giving the impression that it was a miniature version of the Rewloola –class. Its unique trait was the two heat sink panels installed at the aft, expanding to both port and starboard like the wings. This structure was not just simply to increase the effectiveness of cooling the nuclear engines, but also to increase the mobility.
The Earth Federation force they were facing had a much smaller fighting strength, and there was no need for large ship cannon bombardments, even if it were to be a signal. Their main priority was to maintain a mobile fleet that could allow for quickstrike attacks while sustaining enough operating mobile suit squardrons on their side—This was the fleet building philosophy established in the Second Neo Zeon War, and had continued as a tradiation amongst the so-called “Sleeves”. There was no other battleship in this Neo Zeon fleet other than the flagship, the “Rewloola”. If one included the newly built ships that had entered space within the past three years, the main force, the Tennyson fleet, was composed only of Musaka-classes and some disguised ships with mobile suits on board, forming a mobile fleet array comprising a total of 15 ships. While a large fleet could not quickly respond, this definition was not suited for the Tennyson fleet. Under the command of the fleet commander Captain Tennyson, all the ship captains had undergone strict training in the shoal space region, were well-versed in maneuvering the massive ships like fighter jets, and were used to coordinate more than a hundred fomrations. This is the effect of the unique operation directive Tennyson exercised, by dividing the fleet into 5 squadrons, and deleglating each commander with a suitable amount of autonomy.
With Tennyson’s own squadron as the center, the fleet, divided into groups of 3 ships, scattered apart separately, hoping to form a 2-3 defensive wall against the enemy intending to break through the middle. It had been 30 minutes since the battle began, and though they had to change formations due to being suppressed by the unexpectedly stubborn enemy, Tennyson had confidence that they could settle this before the Shoal Space Region.
Even if the frontline was broken through, the vanguard forces were well-versed in turning back and uniting with the rear group to surround the enemy. At the very least, they would not have to involve the Gajumal fleet harboring Full Frontal’s personal escorts. If they were successful, he felt it was not impossible to sink the “Nahel Argama” before Frontal was done with resupply, and move the entire fleet to “Industrial 7”.
However—
“Bridges’ fleet was broken through…?”
It had been 5 minutes since the order was given to change formations. The squadron tasked as the vanguard had sent out a distress signal, causing Tennyson to inadvertently get up from the commander’s seat. At a corner of the flagship “Garom” ordinary bridge, the Operator facing the sensors turned around with a pale look, “That’s right.” And said.
“Details are unknown due to the space wreckage, but every ship is repeatedly reporting ‘Unable to steer’.”
“We haven’t entered the Shoal Space Region! How can there be a space with so much debris that laser communication is jammed—?”
He roared, but was suddenly unable to do anything. They were however not of the shoal space, but countless debris floating in the battlefield—the wreckage of mobile suits destroyed in battle. According to the Intel Frontal provided, the “Mock Trojan Horse” only had a few mobile suits on board. Considering the fact that the enemy was still attacking, it was hard to imagine these debris, jamming the communicators, to be from the enemy units.
“Our units got sunk…?”
The captain of the “Goram”, seated at the Captain’s seat beside Tennyson, “Are we going to activate the battle bridge?” asked as he looked back with an observant look. Tennyson would never hide inside the battle bridge even during battle, as a show of confidence that he could survive no matter what battle he was in. He glanced over at the captain, who deliberately asked this despite knowing, and kept the answer to himself as he leaned his body to the window at the front of the bridge. Reflected off the window was the uniformed attire sans the normal suit, as part of the tradition in the Principality army’s era, and he stuck his face on the thick, transparent plastic board.
“Set a formation with the two backup squads in the Shoal Space Region. Send a mobile suit squadron to search for survivors.”
He ignored the recitations as he stared at the distant battlefield. The fires in vacuum were exceptionally cold, and from across the “Geara Zulus” units providing direct cover to the “Garom”, he could see numerous lights of explosions appear and disappear, flickering throughout, with crossing beams etching out burning trails in his sight. There was no refraction of light, and the lights looked exceptionally bright, the distance being probably 1,000km away…or closer. Either way, the light rings of explosions expanded as time passed, proving that the target breaking through the frontlines was headed for them.
“There’s someone being an obstacle there…is it that mobile suit called the “Unicorn”?”
It was just a small enemy, but it oppressed them with the obstacle called willpower, and this feeling—Tennyson had experienced this feeling before, at the battle of the space fortress “A Baoa Qu”, and that was the first time he felt uneasy standing at the windowside without any defense. Impossible, he muttered in his heart, and suppressed the impulse to leave the window. The vanguard is broken through because there’s an enemy’s broadcast of someone impersonating Mineva Zabi, causing the soldiers to be skeptical and confused when attacking. A mere mobile suit can’t possibly cause this much pressure to the Tennyson fleet. He clenched his hands that were resting on the window, “Carry out all anti-air surveillance seriously!” he barked to cast aside his inner timidity.
“The enemy’s just a damaged ship. No matter how powerful the mobile suit is, it’s impossible to bre—”
A flash then occurred outside in an instant, and the intense flash filled the entire bridge as the anti-glare filter could not negate it completely. The shockwave expanded from up close, rocking the ship, and the scattered debris pattered around as it hit on the outer walls of the ship. Tennyson immediately covered his eyes, and through the gap between his fingers, he saw a scorching flame and the arm of a “Geara Zulu” being ripped apart. Before he could realize that the covering mo ile suit was shot down, “Incoming heat source, fast approaching!” The Communiator Operator’s voice sounded like a shriek as the incoming alarm rang throughout the bridge.
“Too slow! What’s the mobile suit squads doing!?”
He hollered without any restrain, and again looked outside the window. The enemy passed through the allied machines that should have been there, shooting down the cover units from outside the sensor range— where is it ? He looked towards the explosion lights that were approaching, and his expression reflected off the window turned pale due to fear. In a corner of his eye, there was a red light different from the lights of explosion.
A phosphorus red light, different from an explosion or a thruster flare, darted through space like a mirage and approached them. “It’s too fast…!” The Operator groaned, “It’s coming!” another voice overpowered it, and an unprecedentedly powerful shockwave rocked the “Goram” bridge.
It felt as if they were crushed in a large beast’s jaw, and then shaken away with brute force. Tennyson was sent flying away, and he crashed into the ceiling before he could protect himself. The lights in the bridge had turned red, flickering about, and the Steering Operator was tossed away from his seat, bouncing through the bridge like a ball. Tennyson wanted to ask for a damage report, but was unable to breathe, and as he, in his confusion, grabbed onto the helm , the red glowing light passed through the port of the ship, and entered his eyes.
“A “Gundam”…?”
Shrouded in the red phosphorous light, the white color of the armor and the unique silhouette of the machine was unmistakeable. It instantly vanished, and a newly created explosion shook the bridge. “A direct hi to the engine room! It’s a direct hit!” The Communication Operator’s voice rang in Tennyson’s ears.
(There’s a large breach in the thruster nozzle! It looks like it was chewed through! What is that thing!?)
(The “Charne” at the back seemed to have gotten hit too! It’s breaking off course!)
(It’s closing in! We’re about to crash!)
“Evade! Turn using the sub thrusters! Mobile suit squadrons are to give pursuit!”
The Captain grabbed onto the Captain’s seat, and upon hearing the reports coming in fromt everywhere, hollered out. However, his instructions were refuted by the Communications Operator, “The heat sink panels are destroyed! We can’t increase the engine’s output!” The Captain’s face appeared in the flickering red lights,and he was at a loss of what to say.
“The covering mobile suit squadrons have all been destroyed. Recall the single ship at the front back to defend.”
“The “Charne” sent a signal. It can’t move.”
The Operator’s voice sounded like a final blow. There was once a Federation unit that passed through the intercrossing fires of “A Baoa Qu”, opening a large hole in the Zeon’s defense fleet; the machine in front of his eyes had inherited that machine’s design. “The White Devil…?” Tennyson groaned as he leaned his body, floating weakly in zero gravity, onto the window. “Incoming enemy units from behind!” The Operator’s shout rang, and the Captain did not look back at Tennyson as he gave the order, “All hands, put on your normal suits!” Immediately afterwards, a collision impact passed through from the aft to the stern, and the unexpected term of ‘defeat’ was etched in Tennyson’s body and mind.
The “Goram” nozzles at the aft were burning, wrecked, and the “Charne” that crashed into them. The two ships crashed together dully, like they were being docked, probably because it was because their relative velocities were almost identical. The “Unicorn Gundam” turned its back on them, and attacked the remaining Musaka-class ship forming the core team. The white machine zig-zagged with the help of its booster rockets, did not give the enemy the time to fire a perimeter of anti-air shots, and got to the belly of the Musaka-class. Banagher’s muscles twitched as he felt the G-force pressing on him everywhere, caught sight of the killing intent in front of him, and stared at the CG-corrected visual on the all-view monitor.
Two “GAZA-D” squadrons fired their large beam cannons, dubbed the Knuckle Busters, and transformed into mobile armor form before approaching. The hooks, which were the legs in mobile suit form, reached out like a raptor, and just before two units, resembling that of a bug, could scatter, Banagher fired the Hyper Bazookas on the shoulders. The physical shots were fired in anticipation of each unit’s trajectory, and the scattered metal balls, amounting in hundreds, rained down on where the “Gaza Ds” were. The two units were struck by the balls, crashing in at 10 times the sound of sound, and spun out of control. Once that happened however, Banagher saw a “Geara Zulu” squadron fly over to fill the opening the previous two machines left behind.
“Back down!”
The Beam Gatling guns in his arms quickly spun around, and let out 4 trails of rapid-fire beams. Banagher ceased the opportunity shown when the 3 “Geara Dogas” showed fear, and immediately closed in on the Musaka-class ship. The moss-green ship evaded upon seeing the abnormality of the ships in front, but once they passed each other, Banagher threw the remaining half of his grenades out. These mobile-suit grenades did not activate immediately, but floated around the Musaka-class, and once they grazed the directional nozzles on the side, they exploded.
The heat from the thrusters, which were activated in an attempt to change directions, ignited the grenades. The thrusters were knocked aside by the explosion, and the other thrusters, which were lit to stabilize the hull, triggered another set of grenades, causing the stabilizing nozzles on both sides to be engulfed in the lights of the explosion. The beam Magnum fired then grazed through the aft, and the heat and scattered particles melted the nozzles of the main thrusters. The Musaka-class became a large metal scrap that could not move, despite its turbines and weapons being unaffected.
Once the main thrusters were destroyed, the spaceships would share the fate of a rudderless naval ship. Banagher glanced down at the floating ship, affirmed there was no need to sink it, and left the Musaka-class, passing through the shots from the covering units.
2 “Geara Dogas” were pursuing, firing their beam machine guns, and there were beams raining from top and bottom. Some missiles then came a tad little, activating the approach sensors, and the lights of explosions engulfed the “Unicorn Gundam”. Banagher was shaken by the club-like impacts slamming upon him as he continued to look around, and caught sight of new enemies closing in from top and bottom. The “Geara Zulus” disembarked from the flat SFS, and fired its beam machine gun as it approached from below. A black machine resembling a SFS turned its bow towards its back, and once its wing-like thruster unit was folded up, it transformed into a mobile suit wielding a large beam rifle; the expanded window showed a matching data, indicating it was the AMX-008 “Ga-Zowmnn”.
Above him was another group of “Geara Zulu”, replacing the “Ga Zowmnn”, approaching fast. There were 7 machines pursuing from 3 directions, including the 3 “Geara Dogas” chasing from behind. Banagher, whose senses were synchronized with the psycommu, felt their ‘presences’, and made an emergency brake by flaring the stabilizing burners on its body, negating the momentum brought forth by the booster rockets, and decelerated while seemingly moving backwards. The “Unicorn Gundam” changed into the middle of the perimeter formed by the 7 enemy units, and fired all the weapons it was equipped with, causing a rain of beams and physical bullets to scatter around like a storm.
The six Beam Gatling guns on its arms and back spun and fired at the same time, the two Hyper Bazookas pointed upwards fired their 380mm cannons, and the anti-ship missiles littered on the bazookas were shot out afterwards. The missiles carried trails of gas and hit the “Ga Zowmnn” directly, and once he felt felt the machine above get knocked aside above, Banagher squeezed onto the trigger, trying to scatter away any incoming pressure. The “Unicorn Gundam” raised its arms, let loose trails of Beam Gatling guns, and spun around, punching holes in the abdomens of the “Geara Dogas” and ripping their limbs off. The “Ga Zowmnn” took direct hits from the mega particles, and exploded; as the explosion light expanded around, the machines that were fired upon were engulfed by the white hot lights, and the psycoframe let out bewitching lights as it sensed the ‘presences’ released by the enemies.
“That’s 19 of them…!”
He let out these words with bated breath, and again stepped on the pedal. The “Unicorn Gundam” swpt aside the lingering ‘presences’ that disappeared amidst the explosions, and once it moved forward again, a pressure struck Banagher from behind. He instinctively felt danger, and as the intention automatic system reacted, a mega particle cannon, completely different from a mobile suit portable weapon, grazed past, the shockwave hitting the machine as it rolled to the side. The Musaka-class was unable to move, but as it still had its weapons, it continued to bombard. Banagher endured the G-force bearing on his body as he dodged the incoming shots side to side, wanting to let the machine move forward as he glided in space.
This was not a bad decision. The Musaka-class intended to shoot down the “Gundam”, which was flying away, as it fired the cannons attached to it. However, the third cannon at the aft was shot down at the base before it could reload. A beam came from a completely different direction, shooting the turret down along with the capacitor at the base. The Musaka-class veered further off course, shaken by the explosions right at the back of the bridge construct. There were many small objects above it, so small even the motion sensors could not pick up, and these things flew back to their main machine far away—the “Kshatriya”.
“I won’t let anyone shoot the “Gundam” down.”
The dozen funnels or so hid within the binders to recharge, and Marida’s “Kshatriya” followed the “Unicorn Gundam”. Even after breaking through the core squadron, the two squadrons at the back remained unscathed, and once Marida sensed the incoming missiles, released the funnels that were just recharged. The psycommu devices danced and swirled about, letting out crossing beams, triggering 2, 3 explosion rings, and caused the countless scorching debris to scatter towards the Shoal Space region.
The space debris, which had triggered the motion sensors approximately 10 minutes ago, increased in numbers, and had become a meteorain passing by at high speeds as they appeared on the all-view monitor. There were melted bits of metal even after dodging, grazing the Base Jabbers that was shaking and moving behind. (What’s going on…!) Watts Stepney’s voice echoed with the tremors of the stabilizing burners that was activated from time to time, entering the ears of Nigel Garrett, who was seated in the “Jesta”.
(Even if this is the Shoal Space Region, there’s too many of these things.)
(We haven’t reached there yet. This is debris that’s just created.”
Daryl McGuinness said, and at the same time, a detailed visual of a space wreckage reached them. Though Nigel had some idea of it, he still let out a gasp.€ The CG corrected visual showed the mechanical arm of a mobile suit—and one could clearly tell from that unique sleeve design that it belonged to a “Sleeve” machine. The mechanical arm was probably separated from an exploded machine, and there were many unknown bits floating around, flying past at bullet speed.
It had been 9 hours since they were tasked to head off to the Shoal Space region midway through their journey to the “L1 Langrange Point”. The 3 “Jestas” had their own Base Jabbers, and the wreckage, which they had not seen for quite a while, was actually part of the debris. It was true it was not the Shoal Space region yet, and the lights of battle flashing at their desination were seemingly helping the Shoal Space Region expand, creating new debris. (How many units are attacking…) Nigel however ignored Watts’ murmuer as he stared at the ongoing battle far away. He had noticed beams and explosions 30 minutes ago, and these continued to happen without pause; however, the scale of this was not too large. These lights were focused at a particular area however, and it seemed they were headed to the Shoal Space Region; if it were two large forces fighting, one could see that the size of the battlefield would be larger.
“The “Nahel Argama”…and the “Unicorn”?”
Looking at the scenario, there was no other guesses. The Londo Bell ship—the rebel ship that was to be arrested under the behest of the army, was fighting alone against the “Sleeves” fleet, headed to the Shoal Space region. Nigel frowned at this unexpected development, but was troubled as he sensed this was not unexpected. (Leader, our Base Jabber fuel’s at their limit.) Daryl’s voice rang, yet it seemed so distant.
(We have to turn here if we want to head towards the rendezvous point with the “General Revil”. We’ll end up in the battlefield at this rate.)
It had been 2 hours since the Base Jabber abandoned the boosters with the depleted fuel and advanced forward only with its thrusters. Even if they were to turn here, the thrusters would have been depleted by the time they rendezvous with the “General Revil”, and the “Jesta” might have to climb back on board through its own hands. “That’s true…” Nigel answered as he continued to stare at the flickering lights of battle that was luring him. He knew, common sense-wise, that he should turn back, but he just could not make the decision. There seemed to be an unknown ‘presence’ amidst the lights of battle. Perhaps he was tired?
This was probably the case. A little nap on the Base Jabber would be insufficient in removing the fatigue of wearing a normal suit for an entire day. It would be better to wait for Riddhe’s “Banshee” and analyse the situation. Nigel opened the helmet visor, and rubbed his eyes littered with eyewax, (What’s this voice?) but lifted his eyelids once he heard Watts.
He increased the volume of the wireless communicator and paid close attention. There seemed to be someone’s voice ringing amidst the static, causing his heart to jump. (It’s a girl’s voice, she’s saying something.) Daryl’s voice rang, and upon hearing this, Nigel adjusted the wireless communicator frequency.
(…There is no meaning in fighting. This “Nahel Argama” is no longer a Federation or Zeon ship. Our aim is simply to prevent the “Laplace Box” from being misused.)
He could finally hear a girl’s voice, (What’s that Box anyway!?) but Watts’ outburst overpowered it. “Shut up!” Nigel hissed back as he lisened in on the voice in the communicator, coming from the battlefield.
(The fighting that had occurred during this past month revolved around the “Laplace Box”. People said it has the power to topple the Federation, and perhaps it may bring a new light to Neo Zeon. But we do not live in a world where people can carry out unconscionable conduct. If we do not find a path where people on both Space and Earth can coexist, we will only renact the One Year War. As a member inheriting the blood of the Zabi family, I have a duty to prevent this from happening.)
(A heir to the Zabi family. That’s…)
Daryl’s gasp rang through the wireless, but Nigel focused on the name Mineva Zabi in his heart, and listned in onto this fading voice with his entire body.
(We are all as One, including the people hearing this broadcast. We, as one humanity, have the possibility of expanding throughout this space, but are confined within the cramped Earth Celestial Sphere. To anyone, no matter who you are, please help us, let us through, so that the light of possibilities would not disappear. We do not have time to waste on this battle. We are doing this for everyone to survive…)
The noise got worse, and the voice, which seeminglybelonged to the girl called Mineva, faded quickly. Nigel could not hear any of the voice no matter how he adjusted the frequency, lowered the volume of the wireless communicator which was left only with noise. He let out a sigh of breath accumulated within him, and looked into space. He felt goosebumps all over his body, and his heart continued to throb violently. What’s going on? He did not know how to view this situation, and the three “Jestas” were practically in a fog as silence descended upon them. (What’s going on?) Finally, Daryl asked,
(The “Nahel Argama”, with Mineva Zabi on board, is actually fighting a Neo Zeon fleet…)
“I don’t know. It doesn’t look like a Disruption Operation…looks like we still have lots of things we don’t know about.”
All contact with the “Nahel Argama” was lost since the moment it latched on with the disguised Neo Zeon ship. If it had Mineva on board…Nigel tried to think, but could only conclude that there was insufficient information, and turned his stare back to the flares of battle at their destination. The lights seemed to be beckoning for him—is it because of the voice that seems to belong to Mineva? Just as he was pondering for no real reason, (Hey, Watts!?) Daryl’s outcry rang, and a thruster flare came from a unit behind Nigel.
(Stop yapping and go save them. We’re already here now. There’s no reason for us to do nothing, right?)
Watts’ “Jesta Cannon” left the Base Jabber, and its thick body, padded with extra armor, leapt forward. But though this man was headstrong and reckless, Nigel felt from his actions that there was an urge wanting Nigel himself to make a decision, and he swallowed his urge to stop the other man. That guy noticed it too? As he pondered, Daryl’s “Jesta” moved along Nigel’s, (Hold it!) And there was a holler on the wireless.
(We don’t know what’s going on. What are you trying to do?)
(A Federation ship’s fighting with a Neo Zeon fleet. There’s only one obvious thing we can do!)
Nigel ostensibly saw Daryl’s speechless expression, and was amused by Watts’ overly simplistic logic, “This seems reasonable too.” He said. (Leader…!) Daryl answered back, his tone filled with criticism.
(There’s a girl pleading for help. What kind of men are we to ignore her?)
The “Jesta Cannon” lit its thrusters and started to accelerate, as if there was no need for another reason. Watts too certainly understood how dangerous it would be to interfere without being certain of the situation, but Nigel believed Watts too was being called, and murmured the one thing he should do in this situation. He felt the bloodrush in his mind fade away, and let out a wry look. (Seriously…what do we do?) Daryl let out a sigh, and as Nigel looked over at his unit, he affirmed that the former had felt the same, and held onto the control stick.
“No choice now. We’ll follow him.”
The “Jesta” thrusters were still intact, and it was very easy to reach the battlefield at such a short distance. Even if the fuel was depleted, they could request the “Nahel Argama” to take them in. With this shred of minimal rationality left, Nigel detached his unit from the Base Jabber. “Go back to the “General Revil” first. I’ll leave the reporting to you.” He notified the pilots on the Base Jabbers, and stepped on the pedal without waiting for their answers.
The “Jestas” floated up from the Base Jabbers, and started to accelerate with the help of the lit main thrusters. Daryl’s machine followed behind, and the two machines flew past the incoming debris to catch up to Watts’ machine, which had gone on first. Right, we came all the way here. There’s no reason for us to turn back without doing anything. The “Unicorn”, Mineva, the “Laplace Box”. We’ve been dragged along by these things, so at least we have to see the truth for ourselves. Nigel readied his beam rifle to a position where he could fire at will, and stared at the battlefield with many lingering ‘presences’. The three units let out long tails of thruster flares, ostensibly shaking off the despondence from being fastened on the Base Jabbers, and passed through the space region filled with debris.
(…40% of the entire force has been neutralized, and the entire fleet is retreating back to the Shoal Space region. Our Gajumal force will open the last line of defense here, so please hurry to “Industrial 7” as soon as possibly, Captain. The “Mock Trojan Horse” is closing in.)
Commander Gajumal’s expectant face appeared on the communication panel 10 inches wide, and it was this aspect that was unforgivable. They look as if they was a member of a stable world, but his viewpoint was hindered by his rigid imagination, and when there’s something unexpected, they either exclaim that it’s impossible, will not face it, or start shifting blame, looking all loyal and courageous, saying that they did all they can do. These foolish adults are all like this, always thinking that they just need to maintain their pride even if the world’s destroyed.
It had been 5 hours since they were taken in by the flagship of the Gajumal fleet, the “Guskor”. The emergency repairs on the “Rozen Zulu”, which had lost an arm, was completed, and Frontal’s squad was ready to be deployed, but this was not the issue they were facing. Angelo Sauper was at a corner of the mobile suit deck, facing the communication panel on the catwalk wall in the maintenance side, looking around at the faces of the subordinates standing to the side.
The two of them were pilots from the escort squad, in their early 20s. Lieutenant Rakar and Ensign Reil remained still as they continued to stare at their superior officer, who was ready to die, with dignity and respect. The pilots at the shackles too looked solemn as they stared at the monitor, with no intention to call out the commander for wasting fighting strength due to his little understanding. Why? Why isn’t anyone angry? It’s because of people like Garumal that our country’s destroyed. We’re the ones suffering from their indecisiveness and debts.
“There’s only one empty vessel, and you mess it up!”
The dissatisfaction exploded from Angelo’s mouth in the form of a roar, and he felt Rakar and everyone else gasp. Garumal did not seem to notice the fact that a lower-ranked personnel lashed out at him, and was taken back. Angelo glared at their faces and took a step closer to the monitor.
“The enemy only has a “Gundam” as its main fighting force! Concentrate your attacks on it! It’s because you’re still gathering your fleet obediently—!”
“I’ll sortie this time, Commander Garumal.”
Someone suddenly interjected, and interrupted Angelo’s words with a nonchalant tone. The latter turned behind, and saw a masked face from beyond the shoulders of his subordinates. He did not know where he could vent his frustrations on (But Captain, you…) Garumal gave a skeptical voice, “I want to extinguish the flames now.” Full Frontal said as he looked over.
“I’ll bring the escort squad along. The deployed forces are to take independent action. Please notify the frontlines.”
(Yes! Good luck!)
Garumal said as he saluted, showing a look Angelo felt belonged to those irrespsonsible adults. They started a war, seeking death, and turned the world upside down; they left their debts for us to pay, and they bear responsibility, thinking that it’s martyrdom for the greater good. This is the one thing I really can’t stand about them. We must at least make them embarrassed over their own imcompetence. How else are they going to pay this debt! Angelo pursued after the red silhouette which turned to leave, and left the wall of escort squad members, “Captain…!” he protested, but as Frontal crossed the handrail of the catwalk, “I told you before”, he said as he turned his masked face aside slightly.
“The pilot of the “Unicorn Gundam” is a Newtype, and a power Newtype will affect the people around him. It is better to assume the current “Mock Trojan Horse” as an actual Newtype Corp.”
The white glove grabbed onto the handrail, and the tall, hulking figure floated in the mobile suit deck. The fiery red armor of the “Sinanju”, outfitted with its equipment, looked dazzling behind Frontal’s lush blond hair that was floating about.
“Also, they do have Lieutenant Marida’s “Kshatriya”. Numbers alone won’t be able to beat Newtypes. The fleet will be broken through soon.”
The words indicated that he knew this would happen, and this caused Angelo to relax his shoulders and shake off his unhappiness. This strong directiveness, merciless penetration for our objective, will ultimately guide us to our final victory, bring order to the world in chaos, and purify the blood-stained bedsheet.
We don’t need a cause, personal reputations and deignity. As long as we are with this mask, who will never back down when pitted against the world, who has the power to surpass humanity— “It’s your turn now, Angelo.” Angelo embraced Frontal’s words, which had been imposed on him.
“Show me the true value of the “Rozen Zulu”. Hurry with the preparations.”
“Yes! I’ll definitely dispatch the “Unicorn Gundam” for you. I’m betting on your life.”
My life’s insufficient to wager on; the term ‘determination’ only comes into effect when betting on the most valuable things in this world. “I’m looking forward to it.” Frontal answered and left the handrail, whilst Angelo stood still and watched him leave.
“Don’t get devoured by him. It’ll be a lonely sight without that rose every day.”
The masked face said from beyond the shoulder, causing Angelo to hallucinate seeing the blue eyes under the mask. I won’t get swallowed by it. My life, my body are already a part of you. “Yes…!” Angelo brought his heels together and swallowed his surging emotions as he watched Frontal leave. Frontal had completely excluded Angelo from his thoughts, and once the latter watched him leave and enter the “Sinanju” cockpit, Angelo looked back at the massive “Rozen Zulu” at the hangar beside him.
The machine had lost its right hand, and was directly fitted with a shield; the Musaka-class mobile suit deck was too narrow for it. The shield included mega particle diffusion cannons, and also a ‘unique equipment’ against the “Unicorn” on the backpack. Angelo stared at the massiveness that showed all these aspects, and felt that he, at this point, would not lose even if he were to take on the entire world. He felt the majestic appearance fitted him, and he curled his lips aupwards. The shield fitted on the right hand directly could fire an INCOM claw, just like the remaining left hand, and fire in all directions through the scattered mega particle cannons. I don’t care if the enemy’s a Newtype or something else, it’s going to be effortless stopping a single unit. And with this ‘unique equipment’, I’ll definitely bury the “Unicorn” for good this time, together with that arrogant pilot who had the talent the Captain recognized, but irresponsibily forsaken us with such pretty words.
“Banagher Links. It’ll be over this time…!”
I’m going to shred whatever small possibility there is and prove to the Captain that he’s wrong. Angelo put on his helmet and kicked himself off the handrail of the catwalk. The raised shoulder armor was stacked up like rose petals, and the “Rozen Zulu” silently awaited the arrival of its owner.
He kept thinking of moving forward, but his thoughts were forced back by the hard pressure closing in from the front. The pressure was then transformed into physical projectiles at the next instant, the motion sensor picking them up, and in less than half a second, he reached the point of contact.
It happened after he entered the Shoal Spaceregio and broke past the 4th fleet. Banagher pulled the control stick before the siren rang, and fired the remaining anti-ship missiles. He saw them explode at close range, triggering explosions from the trail of missiles. Another wave of pressure came in a similar trajectory however before the expanding rings of explosions became blueish-white gas, and a second volley of missiles came in two groups. His senses have picked up on the origin of the killing intent, and the “Unicorn Gundam” received the signal as its thrusters flared, practically flying in a perpendicular path.
The missiles loaded on the machine let out gaseous trails, and the enemy units, resembling missiles, closed in quickly. Banagher saw the expanded window indicate AMX-102 “Zssa” for an instant, detached the Hyper Bazookas on the shoulders, and readied them on the hands of the “Unicorn Gundam”. The missile launchers embedded on the barrel turned 90 degrees, and once they were pointed in the same direction as the muzzles, the two bazooks and missiles were fired in unison. The bazooka shots had a faster initial velocity than the missiles as they exploded on the enemy’s path, released hundreds of metal balls. Afterwards, the slower anti-ship missiles advanced in on the slowed “Zssas”.
One of them took a direct hit, was blown to bits, and became a fireball; at that instant, the remaining unit abandoned the large booster it was carrying on its back, and once the booster was buried amidst the countless metal balls, the “Zssa” showed its actual mobile suit form, its short body and stout limbs resemble a miniature puppet. It did not look suited for space combat, fired the hidden mini missiles hidden in its legs, drew its beam saber, and charged over. Banagher was highly startled by the reckless pilot who did not care about the consequences or the unit’s specificiations, and then looked frustrated.
“You started it…!”
Banagher dodged the incoming beam saber slash, and once they crossed each other, delivered a kick to its head. He then fired the head Vulcan guns at the “Zssa”, still persistent on attack, and heard a creaking sound from the machine at the same time.The “Zssa” was thoroughly perforated by the 60mm bullets, and the winds from the explosion blew the “Unicorn Gundam” aside, returning it to its original trajectory when it stopped. The air pockets pressing on the lower body shrank as the G-force was lowered, and the bloodrush to the head gradually faded away. However, the uneasy feeling of the muscles being ripped lingered on the flesh.
“That’s the 25th…26th?”
Banagher’s shoulders were humping as he panted, as he opened his helmet visor to wipe the sweat off his head. His headache lingered, and there was a numbing pain on his compressed lower body. He fired the missile launchers to purge the bolts, and as he checked the remaining 30% of his missiles, the machine turned about, catching sight of the surroundings. He could only see the countless space debris of different sizes, floating about, yet the lights from “Industrial 7” could not be seen. He could see fireballs flashing behind him. Were they from the units destroyed by the “Kshatriya”?
“I’m too far from Miss Marida. The “Nahel Argama”…”
It had been a long while since he broke contact with the “Nahel Argama’ laser communication. He summoned the rear surveillance visuals on the expanded window at the back, and reached his hand for the drinking tube. At that moment, a shrill alarm rang, and he instinctively closed his helments.
3 “Geara Zulus” were riding on “Ga Zowmnns”, approaching from above. Banagher panicked, lamenting that he did not notice their presences, and the 3 units scattered, while the small missiles from the “Ga Zowmnn” exploded arolund the “Unicorn Gundam”. Banagher managed escape from the vortexs of explosion lights in the nick of time, and fired the remaining 360mm shot from the bazooka in his right hand. The explosion expanded into a sphere, and the scattered metal balls dealt with a “Ga Zowmnn”. Banagher escaped the “Geara Zulu” Strum Faust, and as it intended to fight back with its Beam Gatling Gun, there were red words in a corner of his eyes, and a different siren hailed, ringing in Banagher’s eyes.
The pilot’s lifesign monitor flickered with a red light below the flashing NT-D signal. The time limit was up—at this moment! “Hold it! I can still fight!” The exclaimation however was overpowered by the trembling sounds of the machine’s armor sliding back, and at that moment, the enemy’s shots were gathered on the “Unicorn”, which had lost the appearance of the “Gundam”. The exploding Strum Faust flashed in front of the all-view monitor, and the scattered particles from the grazing beams hit the body. Banagher evaded subconsciously as he hollered,
“Don’t change back now! There’re still enemies!”
There was suddenly a sharp pain deep within his nostrils, causing the remaining voice to be stuck in his throat. Banagher felt a warm feeling scatter from the center of his face, spotted the blood blobs leaking from his nostrils, and hurriedly opened his helmet visor. He pushed aside the nose bleed which was floating in the form of bubbles, and wiped away with the back of his glove as he fired the beam Gatling gun at the incoming enemy. His movements were obviously dulled, and with only his thoughts running first, the machine was unable to catch up with the body.
“Because of this…!”
He would not be able to return to Audrey, he would not be able to lead Marida to the ice cream shop; He was at his limit. Banagher shook aside the words appearing in his mind, and focused on the enemies coming in three directions. He threw the Hyper Bazooka at the enemy coming from the bottom, and reached for the beam saber. It’s too slow. I won’t be able to make it. The “Geara Zulu” sliced the bazooka apart, and reached the front of the “Unicorn” through the thrust of the “Ga Zowmnn”. The moment Banagher’s widened eyes started at its monoeye, another beam shot in from another direction, and the “Geara Zulu”, shot through, exploded up close.
“What…?”
The machine, shaken by the shockwaves, repositioned itself, and scanned around. 3 thruster flares could be seen from afar, and another beam came flying in. Banagher saw the incoming enemy units scatter like they were blown apart, and a “Ga Zowmnn”, transformed into mobile suit form, explode in a chain of explosions, probably triggered from grenade explosions. This light shone upon the neighboring “Geara Zulu” and the interfering 3 mobile suits, the deep blue humanoid forms, each equipped with goggles on their main cameras, appeared in Banagher’s sights.
“A Federation new model? From where?”
Banagher did not think there would be reinforcements at this moment, and pointed his reticule at the three units. (Do you hear us? “Unicorn” pilot?) At this moment, there was a voice mixed with the noise, and he blinked, not knowing what happened.
(We’re the Tri-Stars of the Londo Bell supporting you. Retreat for the moment while the system cools off.)
Once these words were conveyed, the unit in the front moved above the “Unicorn”, and fired a screen of shots at a nearby “Geara Zulu”. The second deals a fatal blow to the “Ga Zowmnn”, and the light from the explosion caused the 3rd unit to float in the air. This 3rd unit was similar to the other two, but was a heavy armor version, with added armor and two cannons; it fired its large rifle, and two beams came from its dual barrel. The “Ga Zowmnn” in mobile armor form was knocked aside, and passed below Banagher as it decelerated rapidly.
“Londo Bell’s, Tri-Stars…?”
Banagher sensed that he met them before, but he did not know when; all he could remember was that they were similar machines to the ones he spotted on the “Ra Cailum”. The pilots seemed to be very skilled, and in the meantime, Banagher focused on grasping the locations of all the units around. He watched the 3 machines move in sync as he aimed at the enemy units. 4 lines of fire flashed about, turning the incoming miniature missiles into new spheres of explosions.
Once the “Ga Zowmnn” fired all its missiles, it got shot down by the “Jesta Cannon”, and exploded. Nigel fired his own beam rifle as well, hitting a “Geara Zulu” in the abdomen, and once he sensed the looming presence following up, he glanced at the “Unicorn” near his feet on the all-view monitor.
The white machine with the lone horn retreated from the defense line, probably sensing that there was reinforcement. “Listen to us!” Nigel called out as he pushed the “Jesta” thrusters to the maximum output.
“Our “Jestas” are originally designed to back up the “Unicorn”. We’ll take over and deal with the enemies while you take a bre—”
He endured the G force pressing on his eyeballs, and drew the beam saber hidden in the arm. The “Geara Zulu” closing in on the “Unicorn” path too drew a beam hook, and once their beam blades clashed, the beam particles slice through the abdomen.
“—ath.
Nigel finished the rest of the line with his back against the “Geara Zulu”, exploded into a fireball once its generator was ignited. (But…!) the pilot’s voice could be heard, (How dare you say ‘what’ if you’re a soldier!?) but Watts’ roar overpowered it, and Watts proceeded to close in on the enemy ranks, firing a beam that grazed above Nigel’s head unit.
(I won’t demand to know who you are now, but be ready. Once we’re over this, I’ll ask what’s going on.)
Daryl’s “Jesta” then followed up, firing a screen of shots to hold off the looming enemy forces. The enemy comprised of 4 units, two “Geara Zulus” and two “Geara Doga”, lined in a diamond. Nigel saw the “Unicorn” retreat behind Daryl’s machine through the CG-corrected visual on the expanded window, and controlled it burners to coordinate with Watts’ “Jesta Cannon”. Nigel fired a beam rifle at the “Geara Doga” in front, and moved his own unit such that the “Jesta” formed a triangle. He was surprised however to find the “Unicorn” positioned delicately in the axle; it was impossible to remain in the middle of the defense array for this long without grasping the movements of the three machines.
“Great judgment…”
Who is that pilot? Nigel was driven by the intrigue that rose in him at this point, and glanced at the expanded window showing the white machine. Suddenly, there was a looming pressure different from the enemy machines in front of them, and he instinctively reacted, causing the “Jesta” to rise.
“Scatter!”
Daryl and Watts moved their machines through a spinal reflex in response to the voice as well. At the same time, a large mega-particle beam grazed the feet, and Nigel stared at where it came from. It was a ship cannon—and he felt this wall-like pressure formed by this enemy ship. The sense, different from the usual 5 senses, brought a feeling that scattered into tiny killing intents, poking through Nigel’s head. (Watts!) This feeling became that of a voice.
(I see it!)
Watts answered back, and the “Jesta Cannon” flew towards where the beam came from with all its firepower. The beam cannons, rifle and Gatling guns tore trails of consecutive fires, turning 2 “Gaza D” fleets into fireballs as they approached along with the cannon shots. “Don’t you dare get there!” Daryl too yelled out as a “Geara Zulu” charged at the “Unicorn”, turning the “Geara Zulu” into a fireball. Nigel threw a grenade at a “Geara Doga”, lit by the lights of the explosions, and the drum-sized grenade exploded in its lap, causing an expanding ring of light to engulf the moss-green machine. A sleeved mechanical arm then spun about as it got sucked into vacuum, with the instantly cooled, blueish-white gaseous explosion as the background.
The enemy units were obviously rattled after having lost their fellow units, and retreated back. They managed to take down a medium-sized fleet in an instant—even a mock battle against rookies would not net such a high score. (Heheh. The situation’s getting scarily good.) Nigel however did not have any response to this line from Watts as he let out a sigh. (Yeah. It’s like there’s an extra eye behind us.) He then heard Daryl say this, and stared at the “Unicorn” located in the middle of the triangle.
“Is it because of that guy…?”
There was no logic to be stated, but he could sense, without a doubt, that something changed once they made contact with the “Unicorn”. They sensed each other, and their presences were gradually enlarging. They only felt an overwhelming pressure from the white unit when they battled it on Earth, but it was embracing them with some form of warmth. If this network of perceptions, which seems to cause our heads to throb, is the truth behind the power that called us here—
A heavy, sharp hostile intent interfered with their common senses, causing their 4 units to scatter. The beam then passed by them, and the scattered particles grazed upon the “Jesta” that had evaded just in time. It’s a powerful enemy, Nigel immediately understood this, and his body moved on its own as he searched for the source of this hostility at the other end of the beam.
It came in a similar direction as that of the ship cannon—but something was disappear. The beams were coming from behind, the side of the feet, and diagonally above, teasing the 4 units that were evading. At the same time, the array of killing intent with an unknown core closed in from all directions (Argh!?) (This guy is from back then…!) Watts and Daryl grunted, and Nigel felt the presence of that object as goosebumps rose on his skin. The large Incom cable swung about like a whip, and the attacks all around flashed without ceasing. At this moment, a unique-shaped machine bore thruster lights on its back as it flashed by the all-view monitor.
“It’s that rose-shaped mobile suit…!?”
The abnormally raised shoulder armor plates gave it its unique shape, and it was certainly unforgettable. It was the purple machine that was with the Red Comet’s “Sinanju”, and decimated the 16th Mission Fleet, which comprised of the “Carrot” and “Clog” ships. The Incom cannons graze past the machine, and another beam came in from another direction, breaking through the triangular formation of the Tri-Stars, just as before. Nigel saw two “Geara Zulu” with launcher cannons behind the purple machine. (Please fall back!) A voice however stopped him from wanting to attack.
(I’ll leave the enemy units behind to you! That guy’s aim is..!)
The call was cuts off, and the “Unicorn” was thrusted forward by the booster rockets on the back as it charged at the rose machine. The Incoms pursuing it continued to let beams fly, and the white machine dodged about like a locust as it departed, leaving Nigel speechless by how fast it was before he could even provide cover, (Leader!) He was awakened by Daryl’s call, and hurriedly grabbed onto the control stick again.
“Follow the “Unicorn” instructions. If that purple guy’s here, the Red Comet should be nearby. Pay attention!”
He gave the order, and swapped the E-pack of the rifle. The two “Geara Zulus” closing in fired their beam launchers again, and Nigel saw the high-powered mega-particle cannons shine upon Daryl and Watts’ unit. He held his breath, focused and squeezed the trigger. It was not their job to deal with the small fries, and they could not fully accept this ludicrous feeling. But it’s better to do this, to obey the “Unicorn” instructions on this battle. This notion however clearly appeared in his mind.
Banagher fired the Beam Gatling guns on his beam, and squeezed his fingers on the Hyper Bazooka on the left hand. A beam flying from the bottom hit the bazooka directly, causing Banagher to let go of it was it was knocked aside.
The Hyper Bazooka exploded from within, and was devoured by light, whilst the shockwave rattled the “Unicorn”. The NT-D sign had yet to shine, and the machine’s responses were still dull. Banagher used up the last bit of booster fuel left, and broke away from the “Rozen Zulu” for the time being. The Incoms that got behind him flashed 2, 3 times, and the beams of mega particles grazed beside him.
“Funnel…no, it has cables.”
The long cables let out a long arc, and appeared in the darkness from time to time, having been shone upon by the dazzling light of the beams. Of the 2 Incom extended from the “Rozen Zulu” arms, one of them was a claw-type with a manipulator function, while the other was a shield-type with mega particle cannons installed—this was the terrifying one. It seemed to have a deflection function, as the beams fired from the 3 cannons would spread and scatter lots of scorching particles in a wide area. Banagher fired his 6 Beam Gatling guns to hold off the remote cannons commonly dubbed as Incoms, drew, his beam saber, and charged forward. Once the cable was cut, the Incoms would be nullified, but the enemy would not allow him to do so that easily. The fast moving cable seemed to be mocking the slow “Unicorn” as it started a hail of shots, crossing in a wave while ostensibly wanting to trip him.
“Fast…!”
—Just die, you.
The instant he caught sight of the “Rozen Zulu” from beyond the rumbling cable, the voice struck his mind in the form of an icy wind. “What…?” Banagher groaned as he passed through the crossing beams and chased after the purple unit that vanished again.
—I hate your guts. What’s with that model student look?
The spiteful ‘voice’ struck his skull from behind, and the particles scattered from the beams rained upon the “Unicorn”. The left and right shields were activated, opening an I-field umbrella, but the full-psycommu had yet to show signs of awakening again. The Incoms struck the “Unicorn”< devoid of the “Gundam” eyes, like a venomous snake, and the sharp claw barely managed to scrape the ankle.
“You’re not done yet, “Unicorn”…?”
—You’re a stain, a stain on the white blanket. I’m going to personally eliminate you.
The snake got to the front, bared its claws and opened wide, showing the 3 cannons from deep within its mouth; and as the light of mega particles lingered, the NT-D sign reappeared again and lit up in a red light.
“It’s here…!”
The impulse lashing from within the helmet exploded in the form of a weak light at the forehead. Right when the “Unicorn” lone horn was about to break into two pieces—(Don’t you think about it!)a cry from reality rang just a fraction of a second earlier, and small objects were shot out from the back of the “Rozen Zulu”.
6 cylindrical objects, ostensibly resembling miniature missiles, zigzagged around the “Unicorn” and transformed into antenna-like panels. In an instant, the NT-D signal quickly flashed, shrank back when they were deployed, and there were rapid alerts on the monitor regarding the malfunctioning psycommu. Banagher’s nerves were being ripped along with the machines, and he let out a howl of agony as the sudden pain exploded in his skull.
Numerous warning windows appeared on the all-view monitor, and the words ‘signal lost’ kept flashing on it in front. The moveable frame let out rubbing sounds as they wereforcefully prevented from opening, and the pieces of sliding armor was trembling, The lone horn could not open even though it wanted to, and shuddered slightly from within, whilst the psycoframe below it flickered randomly. Banagher saw the lights flicker intensely, but was hapless. What? What happened? The Intention Automatic System did not respond at all, and the “Unicorn” stood still, restrained by an invisible wave, like it was electrocuted.
“The psycommu’s cut off…?”
The 6 little machines surrounded the unit, and formed an octahedron—so these funnel like obects are the culprits behind this? Banagher raised the control stick, aimed the reticule at the objects, and swung the beam saber down. The objects let out a burst from its thrusters to dodge the dodge, and the other 5 units moved along, maintaining an octahedron shape. After missing the attack, the “Unicorn” barely managed to turn around, and the Incoms that had flown into the octahedron slammed upon its back, causing him to feel a physical impact this time.
(How does it feel to have the psyco jammer used on you? You can’t do anything if you can’t transform into the “Gundam.)
The Incom grabbed onto the right booster rocket, and Angelo’s voice came through the claws gnawing at the armor. Banagher repeated the unfamiliar term Psyco Jammer, took the flares of mega particles that exploded from the Incom behind him, and witnessed the all-view monitor being dyed in a scorching color..
The attack from up close caused the booster rocket fuel to explode from within, turning it into a large fireball. The “Unicorn” managed to escape in time, but decelerated as it was held back by the expanding impact, and Banagher was buried in the spinny starry space. The funnel-like Psyco Jammer surrounded the machine that was quickly decelerating, and continued to release the invisible energy. The large body of the “Rozen Zulu” twitched its monoeye, and the Incom came attacking like a sickle head—.
(It’s over, Banagher Links!)
Angelo’s voice was off-pitched due to delight as it permeated through the utterly terrified body, causing Banagher to sniff the stench of the death god.
He rode upon the Hypersonic Transport chartered by Anaheim Electronics from Dakar’s airport for more than 3 hours, and after flying over the Atlantic and two-thirds of the North American continent, arrived at the Federation airforce’s Anti-Air Command Base in Cheyenne.
This terrain had more beasts of burden than humans in the old centuries, and even after the tragedy of the One Year War, this fact still remained. The HST landed on the plainlands of Wyoming, overlooking the darkness of the distant Rockies before it was dawn, and the landing gear was fastened on the runway, the only concrete area in the base. Ronan, together with Martha, was welcomed by his peers at the Senate Council, and rode on the military electric car; he was whisked into the underground Anti-Air Command Base before he could glance at the moonless night.
They passed through a tunnel-shaped entrance in the foothills, and the Command Center was at the end of this path located 1.6km deep inside. This was a place Ronan was familiar with; when the region was still called the United States of America, this base was built within the mountains to shield against any enemy nation’s nuclear attack. The facilities and system were no different from back then; there was anti-air intellgence used to watch over the North American region. After the war, it was merely a piece of junk when the surveillance satellites were separated from the radar network, and was relegated to as a place where the leftists’ soldiers were dealt with carefully. However, as it was not a place easily noticed, it became a place with some unique function over the years.
When Martha talked about the ‘secret way’, Ronan had already anticipated it to be this place. The wall of classified military information would not be of any use when dealing with her. He remained in the car, just like the journey before, and carelessly stared at the tunnel which could be said to be the relics of the old centuries. The hooded military electric car passed through the underground below the mountains, passed through the 25 ton blastproof door, and sent the contingent to the Anti-Air Command center.
They walked upon the uneven concrete path, was led through 3 layers of safety checks by their colleagues, and arrived at the desination. Ronan passed through the door leading into the only new place available, the space management center, and saw the exact same scene as the one he saw on the photo.
There were 6 large screens on the wall in the front, projecting the monitored conditions of the radars and the satellite surveillances. There were more than 20 of the each facing a terminal, “Mark 2, loading complete.” “Permitting the support ship “Chitose” to retreat from the firing line.” The men and women reporting in all looked anxious, and the atmosphere of an actual battle reached them naturally. Ronan heard the metal doors slam behind him, and looked around at this classified center, which he was not completely unfamiliar with. There were often Task Forces, authorized to deal with classified information, stationed here, working on their mission separately from the soldiers of the base management, which dealt with the leftists. The Cheyenne Base was dubbed as a relic of of the old era, but it was an image used to hide the existence here.
“The “System” is moving from behind “Luna II”.”
“Position controls begin. Self-rotation restrated, Gryoscope stabilized.”
“Reticule control, matching the guide laser’s path.”
The voices of the management pinged off the tall ceiling. That ‘thing’ seemed to have been activiated, and Ronan, who did not know how she controlled the situation, was unhappy that she had already begun with the preparations as he wanted to glare at the relaxed looking Martha. “Welcome to the Caucasus Forest” however, he heard this from behind, and turned back. A high ranking officer was standing at the commander’s seat at the back of the control room, elevated half a level higher.
“I’m Vice-Admiral Ables. We once had a chat with each other at a golf match on “Luna II”.”
“I remember. Looks like Miss Martha and I have a lot of mutal friends.”
He grabbed the outstretched hand, and again glared at Martha. On the surface, he was the base commander in chare of running the leftists’ graveyard, but he was in charge of a secret mission only a few amongst them knew of, and was an elite general full of ambition. It would be easy for Ronan to deduce that there was something going on between him and the vixens of the Senate Council that was relying on the authority of the Vist Foundation, but this was not the moment to be dragged down by that. “May you please hear the current situation?” Martha did not look at Ables, who greeted her with a stare, as she hurriedly prompted Ronan, and the latter looked back at the screens in the front.
“This is the surveillance information obtained from the Moon, so the details aren’t clear. However, it seems the “Sleeves” perimeter is being broken through. The battle’s still going on though, I can’t tell how it’s going to go.”
One of the screens showed a visual of space taken from the Moon’s surface. An amateur could not tell what was going on amidst the flashing lights mixed amidst the stars. “What about “Industrial 7”?” Martha asked.
“Currently, we’ve executed a spaceway control, and up till this point, there hasn’t been any ship moving in and out from the docks. It seems the colony builder there was not activated, probably because of the damage suffered during the terrorist attack.”
The image was switched, and the projected visual became that of the sealed colony that was undergoing construction. Every space colony should be all in the same shape, but this colony had a unique shape with one end connected to the colony builder, and one could tell it was the “Industrial 7” that made the headlines because of the terrorist attack. It was an industrial port, and logically, there would be ships moving around the clock, but there was definitely no space light to be seen near the port. The colony builder too remained silent, and its snail-likeexterior remained hidden in the Shoal space.
“Targetting is complete, and we will proceed into automatic-tracking. Considering the space debris left in the path of fire, we plan to fire at 50% outpiut.This is the first actual firing after repair, but there’s no issue with the activation. We can fire only at the colony builder while minimizing the impact on the colony to the minimum.”
Ables said, “That’s how it is, Chairman Ronan.” and Martha followed up. Ronan gulped.
“We just need your approval from now on. This will solve everything.”
There was a lot of burdensome work for the Settlement Issues Council and the Vist Foundation to deal with even after working together, whether it was to explain to the internal government, or the manipulating of the media; Martha’s expression however was coldly aloof. Ronan did not immediately answer as he stared at the “Industrial 7” in the image, “Surveillance satellite K7 has caught sight of the “system”.”at the same time, he heard the voice from the operator.
“Expand the visual.” Ables commanded. The middle screen showed the image of Earth taken at low orbit, its silhouette encased in the thin atmosphere, expanded in phases. As the sun began to shine behind Earth, the anti-glare filtered visual approached it, and there appeared a cylindrical object with the bright light in the expanded background.
This obect was orbiting in one of the Lagrange Points created between Earth and the Moon, the L3 resonance points, and when viewed from afar, was a common sealed colony just like “Industrial 7”. It was only half the size of an ordinary colony, but there was an abnormally large number of solar panels around it, and more intriguingly, there was an exposed, severed part at one end, exposing the inside hollow in space—this large barrel-like appearance obviously was not designed for human living. It was an abnormally shaped construct, a colony, and yet not one, 15km long, and more than 6km in diameter. It was…
“The colony laser “Gryps 2”, the ultimate weapon of destruction that uses the colony itself as a barrel.
Martha said. Ables glanced over at her face, but Ronan did not mind as he continued to stare at the screen.
“It’s infamous because of the internal conflicts after the war, but we’ve been secretly rebuilding it and integrating it into the fleet assembly plan…such great foresight, I must say. Did you assume this will happen?”
Martha’s stare at Ronan was full of derision, and the latter inadvertently glared back at her sidelong face, wanting to say something. “The “Nahel Argama” and the “Unicorn” have entered the Shoal Space region. However, he was interrupted by this, and could only remain silent.
“We’ve considered other strategies, but we can’t guarantee that we can stop them. Once we detect that either them or Neo Zeon will reach the “Box” first…”
There’ll be no other choice, her expression was stating this. If they used the colony laser, most of their issues would be settled. Ronan glanced his sweaty palms, and stared at the screen showing tis laser.
It was an unprecedented, said to be able to destroy entire colonies when fired at full output. The “Gryps 2” overlooked Ronan from hige above as the latter held its trigger, and pointed its large muzzle at the Shoal Space region containing “Industrial 7”—where the “Laplace Box” laid in slumber.
The poison called tobacco, which was once almost extinct in the old ages, still lingered in the days of Universal Century 0096. This was the result of tobacco quality improving as a result of the space age, like the reduction of tar to reduce the negative effects on the human body and the intricate machines, and the development of chemicals that combust at low temperatures in tobacco, but most people felt that the biggest reason for the revival of tobacco was the One Year War.
The generals frowning at each other in the Operations Conference room, the senators and government officials flabbergasted by the damage reports that kept coming were the same as the frontline soldiers. To humanity, which lost almost half its population, and its latter half was at the brink of danger, tobacco became a solace that could reduce the pressure they never had before. The principle to ban smoking in government offices and the parliamentary halls were quickly abandoned, and in periods of war, tobacco stench were around, whether it was the conference rooms or the rest rooms. This bad habit continued even after the war, and in Dakar, there were continuous signs of senators taking at least on stick. Even the Settlement Issues Council, which involved important figures from both ruling and opposition parties, were of no exception—no, it was because there were a lot of experienced veterans from the War and after it, and the percentage of smokers were extremely high—it was already a common theme seeing the exhaled smoke float around the conference room.
“I suppose silence means consent…it’s fine, right?”
Even so, the smoke today was extremely severe. Ronan Marcenas waved his hand to shake off the smoke, and looked at the faces of the crowd seated around the round table.
“The military has also observed the destruction of the ‘L1 Junction’. The “Nahel Argama” is currently headed to the shoal space region, and a Neo Zeon fleet is out in full arms to ambush this. From this, we can conclude that there’s a high chance of the “Laplace Box” being in the shoal space region.”
32 members of the Senate Council were gathered at the 111 meeting room in the Dakar Senate Headquarters, and the ranks, led by Ronan on the Upper House Chairman seat, were the cadres of the respective ruling parties, their sleep disheveled hair and droopy eyes lingering in the smoke. The time was GMT 0500 and 2 hours had passed since the phone call notifying them about an emergency meeting. The Settlement Issues Council, the bipartisan organization which deals with the many issues regarding Spacenoids, sends them to the Senate for clean up, and decided the fates of the Spacenoids that numbered in more than millions—they were what the media called the shadow parliament. It was not rare for them, who had such great responsibility, to gather in the middle of the night, and because of the terrorist attack on Dakar, many senators were already gathered here, which meant that there were no absentees. But when dealing with the topic at hand, many of them looked dull and unreliable, completely different from how they were when they were pulling votes.
All of them gave extremely awkward expressions, merely puffing smoke out, giving expressions that clearly showed they did not want to make decisions. It was true this was a common theme people would do when starting a meeting, but the topic at hand was not ordinary. These guys know this already, Ronan cursed in his heart. They knew that the strange happenings that had been around this past month were all because of the “Laplace Box”, and they knew that the end of all these events was right in front of them. He knew that all of them inherited their current positions from their ancestors, covering the secret of the “Box” together. In this sense, we’re the ones who have to clear the 100-year lie.
“In that case, please hurry in the mobilization of the space army and seal off the shoal space region. We’ll eliminate the Neo Zeon fleet, return the “Nahel Argama” to our military, secure the “Laplace Box” and then bring it under our governance. We’ve decided on what we have to do, and if nobody’s going to propose a plan B, I want to discuss about how to execute it. What do you think?”
The situation continued to develop during this time. It was an undisclosed meeting with guards keeping a tight watch, and Ronan still felt repulsed about having to mention the “Box” over and over again, but he could not let the senators look on with sleepy eyes. He said it with the intention of waking them up, but their responses were still slow. In the midst of this silence, when the sound of the clock ticking could ostensibly be heard, “It’s easier said than done to mobilize the entire army to maintain security.” A senator, who was also the president of the ruling party’s construction ministry, let out this vague voice,
“Looking at the nature of this incident, we mustn’t reveal this to the world, and we won’t be able to satisfy the condition of mobilizing the army. What do we do?”
“And Muar’s the current legislation chief!” The senator in charge of agriculture leaned on his seat beside the other man. “I don’t think the legislation council will agree easily, especially with the media raising the issues of the Second Neo Zeon war to shake the hearts of the people. If we’re to mobilize a large force, they’ll be looks from the people of the world.”
All their stares were gathered on John Bauer, seated opposite Ronan. This important man from the national defense committee, reputed to be the cause of shaking the hearts of the people, did not mind the blaming stares as he continued to look aloof. Ronan held back his sigh, “It’s because of this…” he probed his body onto the table as he said.
“It’s because Senator Bauer paved the path for us that it’s easier for us to mobilize the enemy. The recent spate of terrorist attacks has caused public opinion to lean towards the eradication of Neo Zeon. With the assistance of everyone here, I suppose we can break down the interference of the legislation council, right?”
Of course, these were not sincere words, all of them knew that Bauer’s actions were only to ensure the continual existence of Londo Bell, which his helped set up, an act for the sake of maintaining the military industry. Ronan did not continue to look at Bauer, who deliberately looked away, and looked at the faces of all those present. “Isn’t this too much of a wishful thinking?” One of the six female senators interrupted as she put out the cigarette on the ash tray.
“The media does adore Neo Zeon as they are biased towards Spacenoids. They’re still insisting on that old logic, saying that the source of all the mishaps is the incompetence of the Federation.”
“And it was just revealed that ECOAS was involved in the battle of “Palau”.”
“Using the term eradicate is very…the initial plan was to settle all issues gradually with the dissolvement of the Republic, right? If we’re going to do such an extreme action at this time, won’t we end up obstructing the space army realignment plan and have no support in this end?”
“The Vist Foundation has a clear view on all this, which is why they can control the Senate Council however they want to. How about we give up on ensuring the “Box” at this time and try leaving it again? If the “Box” is going to be opened, the Foundation will be grabbed by the throat.”
“But what Chairman Ronan said about this being a good chance to take them down is true. They’re fighting over a family squabble now, and they haven’t formally decided on a leader, right?”
“You say it as if it’s easy. If Neo Zeon is defeated, your party will be the first one to ask for a revision over the realignment plan, right?”
“You’ve been insisting that the money used to build a mobile suit can build many old folks homes, right?”
“This is already the instinctive action of the largest opposition party; it’s a different theme from what we’re talking about.”
This barefaced saying caused a tired amusement to ripple through the Senate room. Ronan slammed his fist into the table to negate that uneasy tremor.
“People, I hope you can understand the importance of this incident.”
The members hid their smiles and went quiet as they gathered their stares on the Chairman. Ronan cupped his aching fist with his other hand as he looked at the stares of the many people through the smoke of the cigarettes.
“We’ve been protecting the secret of the “Box”. The meaning of the existence of this Senate Council, the authority that can decide the Spacenoid administrations are all based on this. In the aspect of wanting to get power in our hopes to secure the “Box”, we’re on the same path as the Vist Foundation.”
Ronan stood up without letting anyone have the room to argue back. The photos of the Council Chairmans hanging on the wall entered his eyes, “Sometimes, I wonder…” and he immediately looked away to say calmly,
“If Zeon grew prosperous before the One Year War began, and if I took up this position before that, what would I do? Will I open the promised future in the “Box” to prevent Zeon’s insurgence?”
All the people seated at the round seat inadvertently felt chills and turned their faces away in an awkward manner. Ronan continued to look at the photos of the past Chairmans that had never changed, exchanged a short glance with his already deceased father, “Of course, the answer is no.” he answered himself and lowered his stare.
“Our fathers had this thought before, and continued to implement silence to protect the regimentation of the Federation inherited from our forefathers. But in the end, the One Year War happened. ‘Zeon assault can’t be predicted’, or ‘these happened before we knew about the existence of the “Box”’, we can’t use them as excuses. If we wanted to prevent them, we might have been able to do so, but the Senate Council sat by to watch half of humanity killed, and has the same crime as Zeon.”
“That’s…” an elderly senator spoke with a bitter smile. “Don’t tell me you never thought of it.” Ronan hushed up the other man, and slowly strolled down the circumference of the round table.
“And we, who had the complete inheritance, are unable to acquit ourselves of this crime. This is a guilt we have to bear forever, and we’re not allowed to bring it into our graves. As long as the Earth Federation continues to existence, we will have to bear the secret that taints our descendants with blood.”
Riddhe’s expression when he learnt the truth in that office lit by the sunset appeared for a fleeting moment in Ronan’s eyes. There were people putting their elbows on the table as they leaned forward, and there were those leaning on their chairs as they looked into space. They were children, but also parents; Ronan looked around and stared at the faces of these people, “This isn’t something we can leave it to others.” He continued, and set aside the face in his memory.
“It’ll be best if we can use this chance to get the “Box” and bury it completely. However, the more pressing thing is to maintain the current situation and prevent anyone from approaching the “Box”. This isn’t the time to consider the benefits for our political parties, or even our personal problems; we have a mission to protect this secret, and we’re betting on the billions of lives that died during the One Year War.”
He circled the round table once, and placed his hand on the Chairman’s seat that appeared in front of his eyes again. “I hope that we’ll have a fruitful discussion after we consider all these.” Ronan concluded and let his heavier body sink into the seat.
Nobody wanted to look at each other or speak up, but even so, the political considerations and the forces, tangible and intangible, supporting the council were not to be ignored. He thought of the costs and benefits of the options, whether it was necessary to protect the “Box” in such an adhersive manner, and compared it to the current reality; in the end, tired breaths merely came out with the smoke, and a silent time proceeded. At this moment, John Bauer lifted his head and spoke up for the first time on this day, “I can understand your concerns, Chairman Ronan.” Ronan had no intention of accepting the words of this old friend and colleague as he looked back with a wary look.
“But we’re able to get to the lowest seat of this senate because of the support of the people. If we act while ignoring the wills of the supporting parties, we won’t be able to fulfill the mission you said of, Chairman. At this situation, we need to first calm down and make our decisions—”
“What if Neo Zeon gets the “Box” while we’re doing so? Do you think you can use political means to overturn the Second Coming of Char? It’s rumored that that man has relations with the Republic.”
“That’s the point. If the Republic’s supporting from behind, there’s still room for negotiations, like the delay of self-autonomy or something…”
“And what if they ask for inordinate requests? It’s fine to continue keeping your votes for the sake of maintaining the needs for war, but I don’t want a replay of the One Year War to happen again.”
“You’re too hasty in your conclusions. No matter whether it has the “Box” or not, Zeon’s fate is flickering in the windlike a candle. It is rude of me to say so, Chairman Ronan, but aren’t you being a little too paranoid? It seems that you’re overrating the existence of the “Box”.”
Bauer said with an emotionless expression, and there were several senators around them showing looks that they understood this very well as they looked at Ronan. These unexpected words rendered Ronan speechless, and he suspected if these words were of reality as he looked back at Bauer’s face wordlessly.
Bauer was the head of the Defense Ministry, based in the Anaheim Electronics, and would be the one most scared of the opportunists’ words when the space army realignment program were to be subjected to setback, but Ronan never thought that he would say this was just paranoid. Is he saying the restraining bolt and sacrifices over these hundred years were all the result of paranoia? Is he saying that the world won’t change no matter whether the “Box” is opened? That the tragedy of the One Year War will never be avoided no matter what? Do we fear something that has no value, threatening those who did not know its true identity? Are we flaunting our authority without purpose?
Impossible. The moment Ronan concluded, he had a fleeting thought this might be the case, and he temporarily felt the feeling of being dangled in the air. To a man like Bauer—the intangible block called the public, that firm, incomprehensible and entity might be the case. The words carved on the “Box” might just be a chain of words, and it itself had no power to change the world. The “Box” could only fulfill its power that can topple the current regimentation with the help of those people with the hearts to respond to the ‘promised future’. He knew all about this, but he continued to fear the “Box”; was it because he was a direct member of the Marcenas family that had a direct involvement in the “Box”, or was he feeling somewhat melancholic about the dream of the ‘promised future’ that still lingered in his heart? Ronan could not conclude as he looked forward with a stiff mask. At this moment, he discovered that the door at the edge of his vision was opened.
The door was forbidden to be opened until the meeting was over. Ronan looked over at the door together with everyone else, who turned around in shock, saw the face of a woman who passed through the door the guards opened without any concerns, and felt his gulped breath stuck at his throat
“Pardon me for interrupting the meeting.”
Martha Vist Carbine said this line to brush off the many stares on her as she walked over. Why is this woman here? Ronan glared at the guards standing at the door, looked at the officer’s uniform that proceeded into the room, and gasped again. There were three large stars on the rank, reflecting the light off his shoulders; this was not the first time Ronan saw the officer, and the latter overwhelmed the guards with his authority as he entered. This face belonged to the man, the Chief of Staff for the entire Federation military.
Even though he was the leader of the army brass that was under the command of the Senate Council, it would require lots of courage for him to enter this room. Ronan looked at the stiff expression of this Admiral, ascertained that he had the same interests as that of the Foundation, and turned his stare towards Martha, who was walking to the Chairman’s seat. This was probably the first time they met face to face, but Ronan did not feel this way. It felt as if they both involved the military, and Ronan had been able to see this face all this time. Perhaps Martha too felt the same way as she gave a thin smile, her eyes showing a trace of closeness, and she brought her face close to Ronan’s eyes. The tobacco stench filling the room faded away, and what came was a sharp agitating scent of perfume stimulating around his nostrils.
“I have something urgent to talk about, Chairman Ronan. Can I have a word with you?”
“Sorry, but we’re in the middle of an emergency meeting as well. Do say anything you want here, but keep it short.”
Ronan did not look away from the Senator who were scrutinizing him, and answered her with an unhushed voice. He had a thought ingrained deep within him, that if she were to gain the initiative here, everyone else would have an opportunity. Martha however smiled with an expression, indicating that she knew beforehand. “You understand too, right?” she muttered again.
“It’s useless to talk with these people. The “Box” is our family’s issue, and we have to settle it ourselves.”
Ronan resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows as he continued to stare at Martha, who narrowed her eyes as she seemed to have witnessed the proceedings in the meeting. “I have a secret way to deal with this.” she spoke without leaving an opening.
“If you allow us, Chairman, this plan can be executed immediately. Do you have any interest?”
“…You’re asking the obvious. This isn’t something a lady should be doing.”
“Women always want to be certain, especially when we’re lacking in time.”
She said sweetly, but there was a sense of urgency deep within her eyes. Martha too was anxious, and nobody other than her could experience this urgency to prevent the “Box” from being opened. Ronan sighed heavily, looked around at the faces that amounted more than 30, trying to find an opportunity to grasp a foothold, and used this chance to get up from the Chairman’s seat.
“I’ll be back.” He said to the vice-chairman beside him, but understood very well that he would not be coming back. He followed Martha out as the latter proceeded first, and walked out of the meeting room. He sensed the cold atmosphere of the term secret method, and as he felt goosebumps rise on his skin, he passed through the door. The unnerving expressions of the past chairmans caused his back to ache more than the cold stares of the other senators.
The 3 dimension holographic map shown on the main monitor showed a straight arrow of light from the bottom to the top, intersecting an arrow reaching in from the left side. The intersection point let out a red flickering light, and the side showed the estimated time of arrival and the closest distance values.
“This is the predicted path of the Tennyson fleet from Side 6. We just sent out a laser communicator signal 6 hours ago, so the values shouldn’t be wrong.”
Flaste Schole said. Since this was the man who was part of the crew that occupied the “Nahel Argama” just 5 hours ago, and intended to work with that fleet, there was no greater prediction than this. Otto Mitas got up from his Captain’s seat, and looked carefully at the many markers flickering on the monitor. Liam Borrinea and the other bridge crew held their breaths as they stared at the enemy’s fleet blocking their path.
“There are 9 Musaka-class ships, and another 6 different disguised ships of all sizes. They’re not holding bac on this large attack at all, and if we keep this up, we’ll face them head on in the shoal space region. The ETA is 08:17…less than 3 hours.”
Flaste said as he looked at his watch and then looked over at Otto. Are you serious? The latter avoided the stare as he gave this expression, and proceeded to ask his sensor operator, “What’s the movement of Frontal’s squadron?” The operator started to work on the console Flaste worked on before,
“Looking at the final observations of the optical sensors, it seems they’re planning to meet with their own fleet. Considering the durability of the subflight systems, I don’t think they’ll head straight to “Industrial 7”.”
“What about Frontal’s mothership, the “Rewloola”?”
“It’s outside our range. I don’t know where Frontal’s fleet launched from, but looking at the plug-in fuel tanks of the SFS, my guess is that they’re 80,000km away from the main fleet. It’ll take them half a day to proceed here at maximum speed.”
“I heard that the “Rewloola” is bringing 2 Musaka-classes along. Maybe they don’t intend to meet up with Tennyson’s fleet, but is headed to “Industrial 7” straight away. In this case, Frontal may use the “Rewloola” as a base to look for the “Box”.”
Flaste continued, and while Otto noticed the side of the man’s face that stood beside them complete, this man is younger than he looks he wondered about this completely unimportant thing. “What do you think, First Officer?” he turned behind to look, and Liam, with her hand on her injured shoulder, “It’s very likely.” She answered without hesitation.
“Once the squad regroups, they’ll head straight for “Industrial 7”. There’s a chance they’ll be stranded, but that’s a fine move not to scatter their forces. That man will definitely do it.”
“In that case, we’ll have to face one large fleet.”
The Captain’s simple summation of the entire situation brought a heavy and silent atmosphere upon the bridge. It had been more than 5 hours since they left the collapsed ‘L1 Junction’ and head off to the shoal space region. They did not have any time to think as they were too busy detaining the Zeon Republic soldiers in the ship and restoring the operations of each department, but at this point, the pressure came right at them. Otto felt abnormally awake due to the extreme sleep deprivation, and looked at the markers shown on the screen. While the “Nahel Argama” was wounded, almost devoid of its remaining ammunitions and transport vehicles, there were 15 enemy ships. He knew, without anyone reminding him, how reckless it was. “Aid from Londo Bell…I don’t think we can hope for it.” Liam’s passing words brought a heaviness worth sighing over beside Otto’s ears.
“Yeah. We’re the ones being hunted down by the entire military, and Fleet Commander Bright is being redeployed. There’s no one we can reason with; if we’re not careful, we might even be attacked.”
“But we know the location of the “Box”. As long as we report there’s a threat that Neo Zeon will capture it, Londo Bell can act independently, right?”
Mihiro Oiwakken said as she sat on the communication operator seat. Her firm expression showed that there was a need to say this, and Otto was dumbstruck by this. “It’s useless.” However, Liam first spoke up,
“If we don’t know the true identity of the “Box”, there’s no way we can determine the threat it brings. If we want Londo Bell to take action, it’ll have to be once we confirm the contents.”
“How can that be…! In that case—”
“There’s no room for us to make a detour and avoid the enemy’s ambush. If we don’t hurry to “Industrial 7” as soon as possible, Frontal will reach there first.”
Liam spoke with a voice not allowing for any optimism, and turned her stare to the Captain’s seat. Otto looked at her eyes that showed that she was ready to go all in, “How many mobile suits are we going to expect?” he asked Flaste.
“The maximum capacity for the Musaka-class is 6, and the disguised ships have varying ones, but they can probably hold about 3 or so.”
“In other words…” the sensor operator looked up at the screen, ostensibly calculating in his mind, “…72 of them.” and went pale,
“The only ones we can deploy are the “ReZEL”, the “Stark Jegan” and the “Unicorn”. They outnumber us 24 to 1…”
Liam muttered, and Otto felt the chill of despair rise from below his feet, creating a freezing atmosphere. “No, it’s 12 to 1.” He said as he left the Captain’s seat.
“We can still mobilize another 3 units.”
His magnetic soles landed on the floor, and he looked back at the stunned faces of everyone present. “The “Kshatriya”?” Liam asked in lieu of every person present, and Otto affirmed it with his stare.
“What about the other two?” The ECOAS “Lotos” can’t be counted in this as they can only replace the cannons.”
With Liam giving a suspicious look, Otto turned his back on her and looked towards Flaste, who seemed to have realized this. He approached Flaste and asked, “Can you help?” As the latter’s face cringed, Mihiro ostensibly swallowed some words and looked away.
“Your “Geara Zulus” are still around, and though one of them lost an arm, but it can still defend a ship, I suppose?”
“…Is this really alright? It’s said that those who betrayed once will do so again.”
Flaste answered with a bitter smile as he lowered his face. Otto too lowered his head as he looked at the expression devoid of any smiling intent. “I won’t force you.” He said as he reached his hand to touch his cap.
“We’ll immediately send a launch that will depart for the Republic’s army. You can ride on board and leave this ship as well. It’s all your ship.”
Flaste widened his eyes as he averted them, and lifted his head as if he was had. Otto however did not look at him as he turned to Liam and the rest, “The same goes for the rest as well.” He spoke with a voice that bellowed through the bridge.
“I said before that there’s no need to accompany me to my death over such a foolish thing, and this feeling remains the same even at this point. For those who want to leave the ship, I’ll lend a launch. Just tell me. In this space region, there’ll be a ship who can receive a distress signal immediately.”
The navigation and cannons operators seated at the consoles in front wordlessl looked over Liam’s shoulders and stared at Otto. If I don’t want to lose anyone else, how can I lose anyone? Otto suppressed the true thoughts rising in his heart, “But those who want to stay, please be prepared.” he continued and looked at everyone present.
“We’re the only ones present. As for whether we want to take action, or whether this is the correct decision, we have to decide it itself. Everyone has to think and make their own decisions. I won’t charge you on your responsibilities as a soldier, but the responsibility you need to take up should be in your hearts.”
There were people with unfaltering looks, and there were those who looked down in doubt. Once he was certain of their reactions, “Notify the ship. I hope all personnel leaving the ship are to gather at the deck in 20 minutes.” Otto finally turned to Mihiro and said this, and the petite figure answered in a flustered manner as she looked away. Otto removed his cap, let the wind blow on his heating head, and walked towards the window in front of him without looking at anyone else in the eyes.
There was still some distance to the shoal space region, and the “Nahel Argama” was surrounded by a stretch of endless space, without any space debris passing by. The “Laplace Box” that had the power to topple the world, the Second Coming of Char, the “Unicorn Gundam” that was the key to opening the “Box”—he reflected on the things that had nothing to do with him a month ago, wondered about how peculiar it was, and looked at the stars afar. His wife’s face appeared in his mind, but it did not bring about the pain he imagined; there goes my retirement funds this self-depreciating voice was the only thing that echoed in his heart.
The aft landing deck was as its name described, a one-way passage used for transport craft to return to the ship, but it also had a function to let small launchs fly off. The insides and external appearances were not too different from the catapult deck, but the scene of the 4 old-styled launchses docked on both ends of this extremely tall deck resembled the idiosyncratic atmosphere of a a mobile suit hangar.
At this point, two of these launches were dragged to the middle of the airlock, and a group of men dressed in thick green normal suits were boarding the launch. It was under zero gravity, but the feet of those 30 men or more were abnormally heavy. It felt as if their bodies were srinking for every step they took with their magnetic soles. There were guards wielding recoiless rifles standing around them, giving watchful stares at the group boarding the launch. However, anyone could tell they were not going to do anything.
They—the Zeon Republic soldiers, lost. They lost their motherships, their comrades, and were to be divided into two launches and abandoned into space. Banagher Links did not dare to say he could understand the attitude of a soldier, as what their ideals entails were completely beyond his imagination, but their dangling expressions gave him a rough sense of familiarity. He looked at the faces of those soldiers who were most in their twenties sidelong. ‘Disjointed’…this would most likely be the term that could explain their psychological mood. They could not associate themselves with the current reality; even though they were present, there was a sense of isolation—
“We’re included the water and food for the mobile suits that are floating around. Once you leave the ship, please proceed to save them. The ‘L1 Junction’ collapse meant that the military and media will get into action. There’ll be a ship that will save you here.”
Audrey Burne spoke to the Sub-Lieutenant acting as representative for the Republic soldiers. She had removed her regal cape, but she was still dressed in formal Neo Zeon uniform, and this must have been one of the reasons why the Republic soldiers felt disjointed. Banagher, Conroy Haagensen and Gael Chan were sending them off in name, but their faces were giving off uneasy looks as they stared at Audrey from behind. “Yes…” The sub-lieutenant looked down as he answered, looked back at their one and only royal heir Mineva Zabi, and then looked around with a lost expression.
“…None of the crew on this ship is leaving.”
It had been almost 30 minutes since the broadcast to gather all departers echoed through the ship. The Sub-Lieutenant saw that no one else was going to leave from this landing deck, and looked back at Audrey. “Why?” He asked with a troubled expression.
“It’s suicidal to take on the main fleet of the “Sleeves” as a single ship, so why…what do you believe in? The Side co-prosperity ring the Second Coming of Char described about will bring a whole new future to Spacenoids, but why, as the Princess of Zeon, are You denying this—”
“I’m not denying it. if there’s really this ideal, it’s possible to try it in this world. However, I can’t accept using the power of the “Laplace Box” to simply protect ourselves.”
Audrey silently answered as she stood unflinchingly on the deck. The Sub-Lieutenant was the highest ranked amongst the stragglers, but he was still considered a youth. Banagher saw his face contort sidelong, and his mouth kept shuddering, but he was speechless.
“The world will change, and it has to change. Thus, when we change, we have to be change cautiously. If we want to change simply because we’re unhappy about the state of the world, that’s no different from a child crying in the darkness. We need to open our eyes wide and walk towards the path with the light…once you do that, and once you think of using the light you see to spread it through the entire world, that’s when you need to summon the courage to take action.”
Audrey’s words were clear. It was true that if he felt ‘disjointed’ by the world and hoped for changes, he could not fear his own change. Banagher deeply felt his heart engraved by this change over this past month or so, and it resonated with her words. He gently clenched his palms as the blood of life flowed to his fingertips, and made his decision not to be lost again as he looked forward. “Change yourself first, you say…?” The Sub-Lieutenant asked, and she nodded back, “This is my personal view.” Audrey smiled.
“Even if the crew on this ship have their different thoughts, there is one thing we all believe in.”
“And that is…?”
“We won’t die, and we won’t lose, for the beast of possibilities will protect us.”
“The beast…of possibilities…” The Sub-Lieutenant repeated these words, and seemed to have recalled something as he looked back. Banagher inadvertently cringed his chin back and adjusted his posture. The Sub-Lieutenant looked at the pilot suit Banagher had been wearing since the previous night, and lowered his face weakly. “Were we wrong…” he said with a practically vanishing voice.
“That’s not something I can decide. The outcome of the upcoming battle will most likely change the direction of the Zeon Republic greatly, but no matter what this outcome is, you’re the ones supporting the country. Don’t be lost because of other people’s words, including mine.”
The Sub-Lieutenant lowered his head and bit his lips hard, before straightening his back to look at Audrey’s face. His slightly damp eyes ostensibly reflected the light off the deck, his heels clicked as he brought them together, and he stood still with a proper salute as he stood on the deck.
“You’re our Queen after all.”
He did not wait for a return salute, and turned around to walk towards the launch his subordinates were in. They were about to head back to their country, and would certainly face a cruel fate. They would definitely be court-martialled, and even worse, there was the possibility that the Defense Minister would shut them up to hide his involvement with Neo Zeon. However, this prediction would not be able to scare the Sub-Lieutenant at this moment. Banagher watched him leave, and Audrey stood there adamantly, her back etched deeply into his eyes. The Sub-Lieutenant did not say anything else as he left the scene.
He went past the airlock of the landing deck, and went right towards the container block behind the partition wall. The beast of possibilities, the “Unicorn”, was inside there. What he could do at this moment was just to prepare it for everything. He seemed to sense the blurry hot air flowing in the ship clear up, injecting life into his body and mind again. Banagher was driven by this emotion as he floated out to the container block.
The containers of all sizes were fastened along the partition wall, and this place not only contained the spare supplies, but also became a storage for the supplies the “Garencieres” brought in. at this point, all the mechanics were mobilized and transporting the goods. As the sounds of the cranes and sirens activated resonated, the cargo carrier moved the black barrel of the Beam Gatling gun. “Okay, it’s fine!” A familiar voice was mixed in the metallic sounds, and Banagher stepped off the floor to float there. “Takuya!” He called out. “Oh!” Takuya Irei in turn raised his hand, grabbed Banagher by the leg as the latter was almost about to go past him, and pulled the cargo palette over in a refined manner.
“Can the Full Armor Plan work?”
“We’re letting Mr Aaron do the final analysis. Don’t worry, we’ll make it in time for the final battle.”
He showed the grin of a veteran mechanic, and soon after, “How’s the fastening?” he heard a yell, and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s done!” He shouted with all he had, “Let’s move out!” and the cargo carrier ferrying the 6 Beam Gatling guns rumbled. “Go and get some rest first.” Takuya said, and his back faded away. The cargo carrier moving down the rail on the floor was headed to the large gate with the opened shutter; on the other end was a wide mobile suit deck space with fresh burn marks after a fire. The Beam Gatling guns that were moved would probably be equipped onto the “Unicorn”, as according to Takuya’s plan to increase its armaments, and were to fulfill their purposes as indispensable parts in forming the “Full Armor Unicorn”.
These were originally Neo Zeon weapons that were docked on the “Garencieres”, and it was proven in battle that they were highly compatible with the “Unicorn”, but they did not know whether there would be any troubles if they were to activate many of them at one go. This was not the time to rest, and Banagher was intending to follow the cargo carrier to the mobile suit deck. “Follow his advice and rest.” But a voice came from above, causing him to lift his head and look over. Miss Marida, before he could speak up, the soft profile dressed in pilot suit filled his sights, and the body floating in the air slowly descended to the floor.
“I understand that you can’t calm down, but you’re the ace of this ship. If you don’t act composed, everyone else will feel uneasy.”
She did not look away as she supported Banagher, whose feet did not land on the floor, and spoke. The voice and attitude was undoubtedly that of Marida Cruz, who once shared her soul with him. His shoulder that was grabbed let out a jolt, and his body relaxed unconditionally; was this because of the sensation back then lingered in his heart, or was it a biological phenomenon of his body being unrestrained. Banagher scented the sweetness of her body aroma that was different from Audrey’s, looked away awkwardly, and forced out a line, “How can that be, Miss Marida, you’re…” Marida showed a smile.
“The “Kshatriya” can’t stand on the frontline now, because you beat it up real good.”
The casual reply caused the sweet atmosphere to subside. She was brought to Earth, her soul was toyed with, her body was tortured, she was forced to fight against her will, and fell to the brink of death. The one opportunity that caused her to experience this month of pain was definitely the moment when she went up against the berserk “Unicorn”. The machine, and even Marida herself could not be said to be completely fine. Upon thinking about this, Banagher lowered his head with a wordless expression. “I’m joking. Don’t make such an expression.” Marida noted wryly and prodded him on the head.
“I’ll be your rearguard. The forward needs to have strength and stamina, so just go and sleep, even if it’s for 30 minutes.”
“Alright then…erm, Miss Marida, did you speak with the Captain?”
The reason why he suddenly asked this was probably because it was rare to see her talk so much. The back that was about to leave jerked, and she turned her head around slightly. “he’s still in the detention room?” She spoke with a barely audible voice, and as Banagher nodded, he realized that Zinnerman had been avoiding him too.
“Go talk with him.”
Marida said quietly as her back was turned to him. “But…” Banagher’s reply was filled with doubt. “I suppose this is for the better.” The sidelong face looking afar suppressed Banagher’s voice that was about to give a suggestion.
“Some things can only be said easily amongst men, right?”
She spoke with a voice not hoping for any answers, and the back profile kicked the floor and left. Marida grabbed the Beam Gatling gun that just passed by from above and said something to the mechanic. Banagher did not look at her again and he looked at the airlock on the starboard partition wall. He recalled the path leading to the detention room in the gravity block, and his emotions felt heavy, creating a feeling that he could not lift his soles.
He got off the elevator, and there was a weak rumbling sound from the aft, shaking the body that had become a prisoner to gravity slightly. The launch the Republic soldiers were on had probably left. A moment of tranquil returned to the gravity block, and nothing could be heard other than the the cylinder creating the centrifuge gravity. Banagher felt his body become heavier for every step he took, and walked down the passage that still had some gunpowder stench. The room he was headed to was about 30m in front of him, down the round gradual arching corridor.
Nobody ordered Zinnerman to enter the room, and the door was not locked, but he would not come out. He went in, locked the metal door, and remained silent without talking to anyone. Banagher stood in front of the metal door covering the presence of a human within like the other detention rooms, and wanted to look inside and see the situation inside; however, he frowned because he realized his own timidity. He took a deep breath, knocked on the door as a matter of formality, and opened it without waiting for a response.
There were cushions all over the detention room’s walls, meant to prevent self-mutilation, and was often kept dark to save power. Suberoa Zinnerman was leaning on the wall, spacing out as he sat down, ostensibly clasping onto a shadow in the dimness. He remained unmoved even as the light shone in from the door, and merely rolled his eyes to look at Banagher. Banagher exerted strength into his lower body, steadied himself from being pushed aside by that pressure, and stared at Zinnerman’s black eyes standing at the door.
“The escape launch was used.”
Banagher let out these unexpected words from his opened mouth, and went silent for a while. Zinnerman blinked two, three times, and lowered his head in an ostensibly disinterested manner.
“If you want to stay here, go up to the bridge. We’re going to meet the Neo Zeon fleet. You know some of the internal workings, so you can at least give some suggestions, right?”
It was not the time to talk about such things. Banagher was driven by the rising anxiety that arose with this separation, and grabbed onto the metal grille of the opened door, staying there as he was unable to make the decision and step inside. He looked away from the silent Zinnerman, and looked at the shadow reaching out from his feet. The ship’s broadcast seemed to have notified something, but his heart had no room to listen to the contents carefully.
“Miss Marida and Mr Flaste are helping out, but you’re hiding in such a place, Captain—”
“I’m no longer Captain.”
Banagher was interrupted by this hoarse voice, and lifted his head. Zinnerman continued to look at the wall, the whites of his eyes appearing in the darkness, before the light vanished as he closed his eyelids again.
“My ship’s sunk, those guys I’m ordering have disappeared, those who were once my subordinates are now acting on their own judgement.”
“IN THAT CASE, WHAT ARE YOU!?”
This voice unwittingly boomed, reaching the cushions on the wall, and vanished without echo. Banagher looked away from Zinnerman, whose face was unmoving like a corpse, and averted his stare towards the dimness beside the door.
“I want to think that we have no relationship now…! But it can’t be helped; you’re still Captain to me. If I break away from you now, I will disappear.”
The body in the darkness let out a trembling presence, but Banagher was not in the mood to ascertain. Because of you, I can live. Your complicated life told me the truth to this world, your gentleness teaches me to live on even so. Because of such sadness, people continue to live to erase them—these words were etched deep inside his heart, and even one or two betrayals were unable to erase them. Banagher exerted more strength onto his fingertips on the metal grille, and looked at Zinnerman again,
“You set Marida free and saved Audrey, didn’t you? It’s a different thing for the others, so why did you—”
“It’s not that easy to take the first step from where I was from. There’s a price.”
Zinnerman interrupted Banagher’s words and lifted his face. Banagher was at a loss of words as he looked at the other man sidelong.
“Whether it’s the people on this ship, the “Garencieres” team…princess and you, everyone paid the price. Some have given up on their stable lives, their positions as soldiers, the beliefs and pride that had been supporting them, and for some, their lives.”
The face of Daguza Mackle flashed by his mind, and the voice of Loni Garvey he heard on the battlefield of Dakar whiffed by fleetingly. These were the lives of those who were not scared of change, and took the first step to save him—Zinnerman’s rough hands were cupped together, “I gave up everything.” He spoke with a hoarse voice.
“Responsibility, hatred, I abandoned everything that formed myself. What I am now is merely an empty shell. Tell Gael that I don’t have any strength to bear responsibility or anything now.”
“Tell Mr Gael…?”
“He was the one who asked you to talk to me, right?”
“No, Miss Marida said. She asked if I can talk with you.”
The black eyes widened in a faltering manner, letting out a glint deep inside the darkness. “Marida…?” Banagher heard Zinnerman mutter and not do anything after; he truly felt that he could not pass through this door. “I’m losing something gradually for the sake of change…” he unwittingly muttered in his mouth, and again stared into the gathered darkness. Zinnerman however did not say anything, and he did not lift his head.
“But you managed to get something in return, right?”
There were no more words to be said, and he retreated from the door. “I’ll leave this open.” Banagher said and left the detention room. He felt a sense of helplessness spread in his heart for every step he took, and returned back to the elevator. The ajar door let out a thin shadow on the empty corridor.
Just when he was about to reach for the elevator button, the door opened. He instinctively retreated, exchanged looks with Audrey inside, and was rooted to the ground by this unexpected situation.
“…How is it?”
She probably realized the reason why he was here, and this short question from her entered his surgent heart. Banagher did not speak up as he merely shook his head. “Is that so…” her muttering was mixed in with a sigh, and she lowered her head slightly as she left the elevator. Banagher did not enter as he remained on this passage devoid of any crowd, and heard the door let out an unexpectedly loud shutting sound.
“I just talked with Flaste. Kwani and Ivan’s “Geara Zulus” can be mobilized. We’ll have 6 mobile suits.”
Audrey spoke as the elevator let out a shutting sound. The sound chased away the heavy atmosphere in the room. “Even so, the enemy outnumbers us 12 to 1.” She continued to explain, her face looking grim. “Thanks for the help.” Banagher’s responding voice became unnatural as a result.
“I’ll continue to call out to the Neo Zeon fleet until the moment we fight. It may be useless, but Captain Otto agreed. He said that since we’re going to point our bows at our comrades, it might be better to do this for the sake of the Garencieres team.”
“It won’t be useless. Your words have power, just like yesterday’s speech, or the words you said to the Zeon Republic army…I can’t move people’s hearts like you do.”
I can’t even turn the Captain around. Banagher felt the helplessness filling his heart as he turned his back on Audrey, who showed a surprised expression. He looked upon the gloves that were covered with ash.
These hands are limited in what they do. Everything began the moment I saved Audrey when she floated in the colony space, and there has to be an end—
“That’s why I want to become your shield. No matter what happens, I’ll bring you to “Laplace Box”. I guess that’s the mission the key of the “Box”…the “Unicorn” and I have.”
“Banagher…”
“If you feel the “Box” has such a value, I hope you can use your words to convey the truth. If it’s something that brings disaster, it’s fine to destroy it. That’s what I can only do—”
“I can’t do it.”
The icy voice pierced from behind, causing him to lose his voice over what he was going to continue with. He closed his mouth, looked over his shoulder, and caught sight of Audrey’s face,
“I can’t do it alone…”
The narrowed eyes that were ostensibly staring at Banagher were moist. Banagher’s voice was stuck in his throat as he wanted to call out to her, and hurriedly looked over; at the same time, Audrey suddenly raised her right hand and grabbed him by the chest.
Her fingernails were poking at the fabric of the pilot suit, and the throbbing came from the fingertips, as the emotions that were ostensibly bottled up to its limit finally gave way. The tremor that resonated with his body was embedded into his body and mind, and he could not help but look back at Audrey’s face.
“If I were alone, I won’t be able to say anything. If nobody trusted me, nobody had the same wavelength as me…someone to support me, I too would…”
The emerald eyes looked down, and the shoulders with gold embroidery shuddered. There was no actual proof that could support her; if not for the body facilitating the exchange of body warmth supporting each other, there was no way she could stand on her toes like this—I nearly threw my all onto her, this understanding came with a sharp pain that pierced through his body, and he suddenly put his hands on Audrey’s. He caught her tilting slender body and lifted her up, using both hands to grab onto her frail body that would break at a single notice.
“…Promise me that you’ll definitely come back. Don’t leave me alone.”
Audrey said, and she did not lift her face buried in Banagher’s chest. As he felt her breath reach him through his pilot suit, he embraced her harder, “It’s a promise.” He answered without hesitation.
“I’m a failure as a Newtype…without you reminding me, I’ld have forgotten that you’re Audrey.”
“It’s good in front of everyone, but only at this moment…”
The little head gave off a sweet fragrance amidst the stench that was filled with gun smoke and ozone from the beams. You can’t return to the ‘everyone’ you speak of—he felt the voice of the masked man pass above his hand, trying to take away the warmth from his arms. He reached his hands for Audrey’s face, ostensibly caressing her face as he lifted it.
What he finally saw were tears flowing down from the sealed eyelids hiding the emerald eyes. Banagher embraced Audrey by the shoulders, and let their lips touch. They’re really soft— this sensation had melted his nerves, and their body warmth became one as it circulated in them. The bodies became one, ignoring the air on the empty corridor, and released heat with both of them at the center, causing a warm field to spread around them.
(I suppose it can be said we were had. The final destination is “Industrial 7”…the “Magallanica”.)
The laser communication signal sent from within the ship was not stable as the ship they were on was moving at the fastest battle speed. After sending many mails over, he finally managed to make contact with Martha, and the noise was so heavy even the expressions were hard to tell. “Yes.” Alberto Vist answered as he looked at the dimness behind him.
There was no one else in the communication room of the “General Revil”, and 7 hours passed since the “Banshee” launched. Riddhe Marcenas was practically fused into the darkness several days ago, and at this point, he was in the vast sea of stars several thousand kilometers wide—
(I think it was three years ago when the construction of the “Magallanica” was completed. This self-navigating space colony builder was built to develop the Jupiter Celestial Sphere…I thought Cardeas moved the house there out of his own romantic nostalgia.)
“So he moved the Founder’s cryo when renovating it—I feel this might be a more appropriate way of stating it. Maybe the construction of the “Magallanica” itself was part of the plan to release the “Box”.”
Alberto leaned on the chair, answering Martha who sounded like she was complaining, and started to feel this was a possibility too. The year after the “Magallanica” was completed, the plan to construct the “Unicorn”, the initial phase of the UC plan started. That was the same year when the psycoframe was being experimented for its practicality, and the unwanted test machine—the “Sinanju”, was stolen by the “Sleeves”. In fact, that was a supply disguised as a pirate raid, and though Alberto himself was the one who planned this, Cardeas must have predicted this, set his plan, and decided on a method to hide the “Box” and hand it over.
Anaheim offered its assistance to Neo Zeon and maintained a ‘stability amidst this tense atmosphere’ system for itself to survive; during this time, a secular group in the Federation tried to eradicate Zeonism, and pushed for the space realignment plan while the Zeon Republic was about to be dissolved. Cardeas saw that the Vist Foundation and the Settlement Issues Council had differing standpoints, and used his actions to act as a common disagreement for both parties before waiting to move. This may be how he skillfully blurred his plan.
Create a new conflict and maintain the authority of the Vist Foundation and Anaheim Electronics—this was not his aim; Cardeas had other aims when he thought of opening the “Box”. Alberto was fatigued by this understanding that was ostensibly out of instinct, and felt fear as he felt as if he was thrown into the unknown darkness. He turned his pale face to the communication monitor, (I let someone check through it before!) Martha sounded anxious as she ruffled her blond hair roughly.
(I did attend the completion ceremony, and I witnessed the movement of the mansion personally. The yard I grew up on actually has the “Laplace Box” in it…can you imagine?)
“I investigated through the intel data of the “Magallanica”. If we’re looking at the construct, there’s no sign of any special works underneath the house. Maybe it’s a disguise job done by the Founder’s direct organization, and the colony association manager may be an accomplice.”
(It’s probably the vice-chairman of the Foundation, Uncle Julst. Looking at his personality, it’s not weird for him to help Cardeas…in this case, we’ll have to look into something else.)
Martha was biting her fingernails, ostensibly thinking of the management team that wanted to take her down, and her face resembled the queen in a fairy tale who was told by the magic mirror she was dying. Maybe it’s all over.These passive words appeared in Alberto’s slurred mind. (How’s your situation there?) Upon hearing Martha’s voice, he hurriedly lifted his head.
“We’re late here. The “Banshee” is hurrying there, but the Neo Zeon fleet will reach the “Nahel Argama” first. We’ll look at the developments of the battle, and will probably interfere with their battle. Its location makes it hard to reach “Industrial 7” first.”
(It’s a complete defeat on our part to withdraw all people involved with the Foundation from “Industrial 7”. If anyone’s around, maybe we could have sent it into the “Magallanica” first.)
“What about the Anaheim related people off to repair the colony?”
(They’re not related to the Foundation. Even if we let them handle the media, they’re not people who can approach the “Box”…when will the “General Revil” reach there?)
“Another 8 hours. We can only leave it to the “Banshee” for now.”
If Martha knew the pilot was the eldest son of the Marcenas family, what expression would she have? Alberto suddenly thought of this, and felt surprised by the lack of tentativeness in his heart, and looked at Martha in the eyes as they were contorted due to the noise. On a closer look, her eyes were showing wrinkles that were matching her age, and as he saw this and again felt something end, (It can’t be helped.) Martha muttered, her expression showing a cold glint.
(The “Nahel Argama” and Neo Zeon are getting too close to the “Box”, and we can’t bet on uncertain factors. It looks like we have to use our final option.)
“Final option…?”
(I contacted Chairman Ronan; until the end of this incident, the Foundation will work together with the Settlement Issues Council. I told the Captain through the Senate Council that the “General Revil” is not to approach too close to “Industrial 7”.)
The glint beneath the noise was more chilling than the sudden news. The overly strong noise was not because of reception issues on his side; Alberto realized at this point that Martha was probably on the move too, and gasped when he realized her destination. She, who should be in the Far East base on earth, was headed with Ronan Marcenas to somewhere—
“Are you going to use that…!?”
There was no other guesses to be made, and Alberto inadvertently got up from the console. (So you already knew.) Martha said calmly.
(We must prevent the “Box” from being released. In the worst case, even if we have to destroy the “Box” itself…)
“Destroying the key is one thing, but if you destroy the “Box”…! And the moment to call back the “Banshee” is—”
(The fact that the Foundation and the Federation is working together to eradicate the “Box” will become a whole new basis of coexistence for us.)
The stare looking through the monitor did not move, and Martha spoke with a lecturing tone. “As for the “Banshee”, we can only treat it as a bare minimum sacrifice, though I do feel sorry for the puppet inside.)
She spoke without any trace of emotion, and reclaimed her demonic expression, showing a firm glint amidst the flying noise. Puppet, this term overlapped the blue glass-like eyes, and Alberto’s body floated from the chair with nowhere else to head to. The ‘final method’ would not be picky about what it destroys. The “Box”, she; they would all be destroyed from this world. He could touch it if he were a step closer, and he came here for this particular reason—
(Let’s just wait for the “Banshee” first. If it defeats the “Unicorn”, we have a chance to take the “Box” back. Let’s see what it can do.)
The bright red lips throbbed, showing her bewitching smile like usual. Alberto felt the situation was gradually slipping out of control.
The duty crew on the bridge was dressed in heavy normal suits, and they were seated at their consoles; this was a common atmosphere to Mineva Lao Zabi, who spent her infancy in battleships. She passed through the door, immediately faced Otto, who was seated on the Captain’s seat, and her body that was dressed in white normal suit just like them moved to the middle of the bridge.
“All hands, use type-A armaments.” “All cannons activated, T-minue 1,200 till the first enemy wave reaches our sensor circle.” “Minovsky Particles, scattered to battle mode. All mobile suits are ready for launch.” In the midst of these voices, “Please come here.” Otto said as he pointed to the Commander’s seat. The Commander seat in a battleship signified a higher rank than a ship captain. This was not a position that anyone could simply sit on, and Mineva gave a doubtful look back, but Otto did not falter in his stare as he prompted her to sit.
“You have such a privilege. Here.”
There was no pretense in his smile, and after saying that, he turned his tense face back at the main screen. “First wave of enemy scattered.” Upon hearing the sensor operator’s voice, “They’re observing our movements and preventing us from using the hyper-mega particle cannon.” Otto answered, showing the expression of a commander who was unable to be bothered with Mineva. In contrast, First Officer Liam approached her, “You can attach the helmet to the side of the seat” and said earnestly. Mineva followed her instruction, and looked at the three dimensional display shown on the screen. The time was GMT 0758, and the Neo Zeon fleet markers aligned in front of the shoal space region were ostensibly starting to scatter.
“Now’s just a matter of showing the information we can get from the optical sensors. We can’t catch sight of each other on the radar, and we’ll open the cannons 20 minutes later.”
Liam said. Mineva nodded to this female officer who seemed composed, and attached her backpack to the seat. She felt the delayed regret over not bringing a drinking straw.
“Please use this microphone. Your voice will be translated into a light signal and sent out. It’s very likely our opponents will carry out optical sensors on our side, so the light signal should be able to reach them. We’ll still send the voice and visual over, but do not be too expectant on the effects.”
“Then, won’t it be difficult for me to prove my identity?”
“That will depends on what you say, Your Highness.” Otto interrupted while the bridge crew was in the middle of a lull. “You have your personal vocal charisma, so please pass it on to your countrymen. Just call out to their hearts just like what you said to us.”
Mineva felt Otto look at her in the eyes as he said this, and Mihiro and the rest of the bridge crew nodded as they looked back from their seats. “I understand.” With an unfaltering expression, she reached her hand for the microphone on the armrest. She clasped onto the microphone that felt exceptionally heavy, irregardless of zero gravity, and looked outside the window at the vast black space.
Calling out to the heart—this was not something she could do as and when she wanted to, and neither was it something she could randomly do so. She once wondered whether she would be betraying her parents’ soulds for advising stubborn soldiers to change their minds, the ones who were praying for Zeon’s revival, those who saw her as a star of revival. Even if she was denying the Side co-prosperity ring Full Frontal talked about with her emotions, there was nothing that could clearly debunk his theory.
However, the words flowed out naturally. Trusting each other, calling out to each other, she felt the thoughts forge themselves in her heart, and rise up her throat as a heat source. There’s no way back now, Mineva concluded in her heart. She bet on the possibilities formed by this ship that combined two into one, she believed in the power that supported her from behind, this power that was similar to pressure, and at this point, she just needed to think of moving forward.
She sensed that she was being abnormally calm. Is it because the owner of the warm hands gave my body strength? Her tongue tip licked her lips that were still felt lubricated by the sensation back then, felt heat pass through her body, and the next moment, she emptied her mind and heart. Her lips approached the microphone, and she said out the first line,
“Greetings to the Neo Zeon fleet in front of us. I am Mineva Lao Zabi.”
(Currently, I am making this broadcast from the Earth Federation’s Londo Bell ship “Nahel Argama”. I am not being detained as a prisoner, and I am not forced to appeal to you. What I want to say next is of my own accord. Please listen to me before we head into battle.)
Audrey was fighting. Banagher felt her voice engulf his heart and nudge it as he flew through the mobile suit deck like an arrow.
The “Unicorn”, standing at the partition that was covered in ash, slowly expanded in his sights. The machine had undergone what Takuya described as a Full Armor Plan, and showed its breathtaking force once it appeared in front of him. The mechanical arms on both sides were equipped with two Beam Gatling guns, and there was a shield on each side. On the back, there was a similar Gatling gun cum shield sets, with two Hyper Bazookas, fastened on the rear sides of the backpack. The bazookas protruding from the shoulders were about to touch the ceiling, and there were additional mounting frames for extra weapons. Besides the three anti-ship missile launchers equipped on both sides, one could see the red heads of the hand grenades lined in a bunch on left and right as well. There were also another 12 grenades, expanded to a mobile suit’s size, equipped on both sides of the calves, and reinforced the impression that it was completely covered with weapons. The heavily equipped had completely changed the silhouette of the machine, and transformed it into an ancient warrior, equipped with bunches of blades and spears—as dignified as a Japanese warrior or samurai.
Amongst them, the biggest feature was the large boosters equipped on the back as a mean to offset the increased mass from the added armaments. These booster rockets, taken from the thrusters of the 94 Base Jabber, were bundled together in a pair through the modified Base Jabber’s frame attachments, causing the cylinders to extend from the back, its length matching that of an enemy unit’s height. Because of this, the unit could not enter the hangar. As it stood in the middle of the deck, the “Unicorn”, nicely put, resembled an Archangel with its wings folded, and bluntly put, was a demon with two extravagantly large tails. If one counted the beam rifled wielded in the hand, the Vulcan guns equipped on the head, the physical bullets, mega-cannons, and missiles cannons, there would be a total of 17. While there would be skepticism as to whether it would be appropriate to call it Full Armor, there was no doubt it had the most firepower for a single mobile suit.
The missile launches were transferred from the “Stark Jegan”, and the grenade latches were taken from the stocks of the Jegan-types. We’ll only use whatever we have, it seemed it was just as Takuya had said. We actually…Banagher however swallowed what he wanted to say, and approached Takuya, who was near the cockpit hatch. He was checking the attachments of the additional parts, and the mechanics in Jonas Gibney’s group opened the access hatch, checking the machine and the wiring of the optional armaments. Takuya, upon noticing Banagher, wiped the bottom of his nose that was stained in machine oil, “I told you I’ll make it in time, right?” He boasted proudly.
“You can fire the optional armaments in your hands and the equipment on your back remotely. There’s no blind spot all around! Leave it to me!”
“I don’t have that many reticules!”
“It can work. This guy has the Intention Automatic System on board, so it can help you control the reticules to a certain extent. Once you sense an enemy’s killing intent, this Lord “Unicorn” will help you aim at it.”
Perhaps he was obsessed with some war story. As he watched Takuya say the term ‘killing intent’ with the expression on his face, Banagher sighed, “Easier said then done…” But while he was in the midst of uttering some bitter words, “This isn’t of complete nonsense.” Another voice rang, and Banagher looked up in response. He saw Aaron Terziff, dressed in Anaheim’s clothes, reach his hand for the cockpit cover and land at where they were.
“I checked through the data of the Destroy Mode activation, and my suspicions are verified. The light given from the psycoframe is the result of the psycowave overload. Your will, your thoughts caused the psycoframe to glow.”
Banagher grabbed onto Aaron’s arm as the latter nearly floated by due to excessive force, and pulled him to the hatch, “My will…?” Aaron looked back at a frowning Banagher, “I guess that’s correct.” and answered with a calm voice.
“A few days ago, I mentioned about the psyco field that stopped “Axis”. The same phenomenon as back then happened in this “Unicorn” machine. It isn’t just simply the psycommu assisting; the psycoframe even has a conversion mechanism, turning the gathered psycowaves into light, which in turn in converted into physical energy. Of course, this initially has no characteristic; nothing can be used for mechanical control theory. The only fact is that the overload of psycowaves became a force that has tangible properties. Do you understand what this is about? You are the power source of the “Unicorn”. Of course, it does need a generator, and the electricity system is running normally. However, the strange power that appears when it transforms into a “Gundam” comes from you. You can say that your head is its heart, and the “Unicorn” is the body that moves using that as the power source. This is no longer something that can be described as a mobile suit, but an expanded 20m tall ‘human’…a giant.”
While he did personally experience it, Banagher found this explanation too hard to accept. He could not hide his startled look, was clearly at a loss of what to do, and turned to Takuya. The latter probably heard the same time, and nodded with an approving look, “Well, the important thing is,” he folded his arms, and spoke,
“Maintain your vitality. It’ll become energy and allow the “Unicorn” to showcase its monsterous power on the battlefield. You’re not allowed to say that you can’t do anything. Think that you can do it, you will show it to everyone, fight on with your will, and the “Unicorn” will respond to you…that’s how it is, right, Mr Aaron?”
“Unfortunately, I have to agree to this line. In terms of current technology, it’s already a tough thing to carry out tests and set a hypothesis for the phenomenon. It’ll probably take about 10,20 years to anaglyse the data of theis “Unicorn” and compiled it, and that’s if the government will allow people to research on such a dangerous thing.
Aaron answered with a bitter smile as he looked back at the lone horn of the “Unicorn”. Lingering thoughts, he repeated what Audrey had once said, and looked at that emotionless face with the facemask. While the thing existing at this place was simply a machine, but if one were to treat it as a ‘human’ 20m tall, a lot of inexplicable things could be explained. Perhaps, just like him, the “Unicorn” was growing, evolving. Though it was buried in the capabilities called the Newtype-Destroy System, it had the mission to guide a true Newtype to where the “Box” was—this giant had both light and darkness, contrasting elements. He was trained by the thoughts and lives of everyone related to him, managed to learn how to control these two elements, and unknowingly found the form he should take…
“Even though the system may not be as complete as that of the “Unicorn”, the similar situation can be applied to all machines equipped with psycoframes. It is an assumption, but if the “Unicorn” and “Kshatriya” are able to work together successful, there’s a possibility that the psyco field can be converted into a weapon.”
Aaron said. “Kshatriya?” Banagher suddenly recovered, and asked.
“When different machines let out a resonance, the psycoframe will use the pilot as a medium and expand the reception range. It’s the same as “Axis Shock”; when two machines’ psycoframes resonance perfectly, they may be able to create a ‘field’ that can push an asteroid, but I guess it is a dream. You can’t call something you can’t control a weapon, so just treat this as reference.”
To Banagher, who had personally experienced the mysterious light field against the black “Unicorn”, the “Banshee”, this was truly a refreshing dream. Aaron removed the smile on his face as he looked at the massive body of the “Kshatriya”, located at the aft.
“What I’m concerned with, is that the pilot’s psycowaves, the source of the phenomenon, will be largely affected by the psychological state. If Lieutenant Marida’s emotions are unstable, she might cause you to be adversely affected.”
Aaron’s last words were obviously hushed down. “No need to worry about that.” But Banagher immediately answered as he avoided Aaron’s stare and looked over at the “Kshatriya”. The machine had lost its right hand, and its right arm was equipped with two Beam Gatling guns. The 4 long barreled guns looking like a prothestic, giving it a different menacing vibe as compared to before. Banagher ostensibly spotted Marida’s pilot suit pass by from its front and enter the cockpit through the hatch in the belly.
Follow your heart. Zinnerman’s voice that rang through the wireless communicator in the chaos the previous day had entered Banagher’s ears. While that had unraveled the curse binding upon her, what exactly was the thing supporting her to fight? Banagher looked around, unconsciously trying to look for Zinnerman, who definitely could not be around, “I’ll be right back”, and left these words to Takuya before leaving the scene.
He moved diagonally across the deck, resounding with Audrey’s voice, and grabbed the cockpit hatch of the “Kshatriya”. “Miss Marida.” Banagher called out, looked up at him, “What is it?” and answered placidly. Banagher however was suddenly at a loss of what to say in response to this question. He looked around the cockpit, where the monitor panels could be changed, and only the insides would be repaired. “Erm, are you alright?” He asked to no avail.
“The Beam Gatling guns were originally developed for the “Kshatriya” use. There is no issues in the synchronization.”
“No, I mean your body. Are you hurting right now…?”
This isn’t the thing to talk about now.Marida seemed to have realized this faster than the speaker; her hand that was proceeding with the system checks stopped, and she again looked up to him. Banagher could not look at her directly, lowered his head “…Sorry.” He muttered as he grasped at the cockpit hatch for no reason at all.
“I met with the Captain, but we didn’t manage to talk properly…”
“I see.”
“He must have been worried about you, Miss Marida. He definitely must be finding it difficult to face you now—”
“Banagher.”
Banagher felt as if he was poked in the forehead in response to his words. “Don’t think of bearing everything by yourself.” Marida stared through the display board at Banagher, who lifted his head, and continued on,
“You’re not alone. You still have me supporting behind.”
“Miss Marida…”
“I do have someone supporting me from behind. I know this even without talking to him.”
Her expression was somewhat eased, and she continued with her system checks again. “You do have someone you want to support, don’t you? Just think of her.” Her answer overlapped with Audrey’s voice that was aired through the wireless, causing Banagher to feel new warmth burning in him. He, Marida, and Audrey were no longer weeds without roots; they were all in a ring of mutual support, bonds. Banagher understood that there were certain things stronger than bloodlines, birth; fetters that could support his footing, and chuckled, answering, “Got it.” He wanted to leave the cockpit as such, but another thought caused him to grab the entrance again.
“Miss Marida, what do you like to eat?”
“Why this out of a sudden?”
She lifted her face nonchalantly and blinked her eyes. “There’s something at least, right?” Banagher asked again, and Marida showed a serious pondering look. “Ice cream…I guess.” This was the first time he heard such a halting tone from her. “There’s a shop that sells nice ones on “Industrial 7”. Banagher then poked his head forward and said this.
“We’ll get out of this situation. We’ll all go there afterwards.”
“Ahh…”
“It’s a promise. I’ll definitely lead you there.”
The troubled expression broke into a smile, “I understand. I’ll be looking forward to it.” Marida answered. We do have this tomorrow, this future; even if there isn’t one, I want to personally build it. Banagher decided in his heart. “I’ll see you later then.” He said, and kicked himself away from the cockpit hatch. We still have a lot of things to do. He muttered in his heart, and returned to the fully armed “Unicorn”. The white giant was engulfed by Audrey’s voice, echoing through the deck, and was ostensibly waiting for its owner to return.
(It isn’t about which side is the correct one. We are incomplete if we take one side. I know the Spacenoids and Earthnoids are existences that are like two sides of a mirror…)
“But even if one side conquers the other, it will not solve the problem. The idea to build high walls and ignore each other is also incorrect. Please do not be afraid of change; after the trials we had since the One Year War, perhaps we have finally found a chance to progress. If you believe in a kind future for humanity, in both Space and Earth, I hope you can let us pass through. As dignified warriors of Zeon, I hope you display the courage to follow your heart.”
Mineva spoke till this point, switched off the wireless communicator, and reached a hand to her throat, indicating that she was thirsty. Otto handed her the drinking tube as he looked over at the main screen. There was no movement in the Neo Zeon fleet markers; they were divided in 5 groups of 3 ships, lined in a formation of 3 rows, waiting along the “Nahel Argama” projected path.
“How is it?”
“No response. The Minovsky Particle density is increasing.”
The Sensor Operator answered, and it was a reality—that words alone could not change, and could not save. There were some things that could not be understood without fighting for with all their might. Otto sighed and looked at Liam; once they managed to establish understanding through this, he looked at Mineva, only to find her already looking back at him. You sure? There was no need to ask verbally, as her eyes told him that it was alright. Otto nodded back, “Prepare for anti-air combat!” And hollered, signifying the start to this battle.
“Mobile suit squadron, proceed forward. The formation will be as notified before. All cannons, begin firing once we enter range.”
The recitations and commands echoed at once, and the alarm rang, indicating that they were to prepare for battle. There was still 10 minutes until they made contact, and it was about time for any lucky long-ranged missiles to hit them. Otto stared at the markers on the screen, and grabbed the wireless on the armrest. “This is the Captain to the RX-0. Banagher, do you hear me?” Upon hearing Otto’s voice, Mineva, who just put on her helmet, glanced over.
(Yes, I hear you.)
“The enemy wants to get rid of us before we enter the Shoal Space region. Don’t mind about the rear, and just focus on moving forward. We’ll move forward towards the “Unicorn”.”
(Understood.)
“I know I really shouldn’t say such things when I’m asking an ordinary civilian to be the vanguard, but don’t force yourself. You must return alive. It’s meaningless if we simply reach the “Box”.”
After a slight pause, (Understood), a voice returned, and it sounded as if the pilot had been through many battlefields. We can only move forward and pray that he can lead a path for us foolish Oldtypes. He felt bitterness in his mouth, and said, “Good luck.”
(The “Kshatriya” will leave the ship after the RX-0. All units, proceed to the designated Catapult Decks)
(Lieutenant Marida Cruz, Romeo 010 and Juliet 006 will proceed with defense. Lieutenant, please backup the RX-0.)
(Roger that.)
(The Garencieres Team “Geara Zulus”, Golf 001 and 002 are to stay back and protect immediate cover. Shoot down any enemies within a 10km radius.)
(Roger that. They’re our enemies, no need to show any glamor this time.)
(To all the bastards on the gun turrets! Our enemies are rebels unwilling to listen to the Princess. Don’t hold back and show those Federation princes how the Garencieres team fights!)
In the midst of the orderly departure announcements, there was a holler that was not very elegant, to say the least. Marida, Flaste, and the subordinates had already known which forts they were to man in this ship; the voices echoed, and Zinnerman slowly lifted his head. During this time, the voices still echoed through the ship’s broadcast, slowly stirring the heavy atmosphere in the detention room.
(All hands, our immediate priority is to reach the Shoal Space Region. Once we can enter the space wreckage, there is a chance for us to shake off our pursuers. The enemy will probably have difficult organizing a coordinated action.)
It’s the opposite, isn’t it? Zinnerman instinctively decided as his body shuddered, and looked over at the loudspeaker as Otto’s voice boomed.
Captain Tennyson Baguette, commander of the Tennyson fleet, had once taken part in the conflict that caused the Shoal Space Region, the Battle of Loum. That man would make trips down to the Shoal Space Region for inspection when staying at Palau, and create space charts for his own use; if it were him, he would use the Shoal Space Region as a weapon. Once he determined that the enemy would be hard to deal with, he would lure them into the Region and deal them the fatal blow.
Did that Flaste forget? He was at the Captain’s Meeting! Zinnerman cussed out in his mind as he listened in on the wireless voice. He did not hear any suspicious tone at all, as Alec, Tomura and the rest of the crew could be heard along with the “Nahel Argama” crew. What a bunch of fools! Why am I feeling so anxious? He looked around the room that was covered with mats, and then looked over at the metal door. There was a communication panel on the passage; he thought he had to contact the bridge, and just when he was about to take a step forward, he was surprised that he actually stood up without knowing.
This was a predicament he did not anticipate a few seconds ago. His body, which should have become a hollow, actually moved on its own. He merely felt exasperated by how useless his subordinates were, wanted to lash out at them, and ended up feeling zealous. What exactly is going on here? He looked surprised, confused, shaken as he stood blankly, and again turned his stare to the light shining in from the outside. The faint light shining into the detention room could not reach inside, but if he took just a single step, he could reach out for it.
But you managed to get something in return, right?
The phantom standing at the door, the rigid voice echoed clearly in his mind. That bastard really left it opened and left me alone, “Seriously…” he let out a hoarse voice, and stared at the white light shining on the corridor. He felt the luminosity seemed to have increased as compared to before, and the light from the fluorescent panels that could be seen everywhere became as dazzling as ever.
Banagher cautiously stepped on the pedal, and before he could take a step forward completely, he felt a resistance pressing on the unit from the back. He summoned the balancer settings on the display board, for the booster rockets equipped on the backpack seemed to have exerted more torque than he had expected. He chose the automatic adjustment function that would react with the psycommu, and as he was calibrating the values (Hey Micott!?) Takuya’s voice rang through the wireless.
He inadvertently lifted his head, looked around, and spotted the normal suit ignoring the frantic outstretched arms of Takuya and Aaron as she leapt from the floor and to the forefront of the “Unicorn”; Haro, nestled in her arms, brought some color on the all-view monitor. He then closed his helmet visor, and opened the cockpit hatch. The air inside flowered out to the mobile suit deck that was in a vacuum; the sound of wind gushing away became distant, and the normal suit that leapt in blocked his sights.
She passed through the hatch, and the momentum carried her past the display board, causing them to end up in each other’s arms through a collision-like manner. (Are you okay, Banagher?) Banagher watched Haro slip out from her hands and jump about in the cockpit as it flapped about, and then put his hand on the normal suit Micott was definitely in. Micott Bartsch had her head buried in his chest, and did not have any intention to raise it. Their helmets touched each other, letting out a thud, and he heard a sobbing, frantic breath.
“Don’t force yourself just because you’re hailed as a Newtype.”
This voice was mixed in amongst his breath, and after leaning on each other for just a moment, she quickly lifted her head, “Right, I’m satisfied now. Go on now.” and showed a smile through the visor. I really couldn’t do anything for this girl…he looked back at her moist glittering eyes as he experienced this bitterness, and smiled as he answered, “I’m going now. I’ll leave Haro with you.” He did not believe that he could give a nice smile, “I’ll be waiting with everyone.” But Micott answered as such, and carried Haro as she floated through the hatch.
(You’re too slow, Newtype!)
Soon after he watched Micott leave, the latter not looking back, there was a holler ringing in the helmet, shooing away all unhappiness. It was Lieutenant Pool in Romeo 010. Banagher, upon seeing the “ReZEL” take a step forward from the hangar, “Understood!” yelled back, closed the hatch, and let the “Unicorn” move forward. He turned around, taking note of the boosters on his back, and just when he was about to advance to the elevator leading to the catapult deck (Don’t take all the enemies yourself!) the Lieutenant continued.
(Don’t over-commit to them. Leave the remaining machines that had passed by to us. Don’t think too much about them.)
(It’s finally our show now. I can’t sleep well if we have to use a kid as our shield.)
Ensign Mako in Juliet 006 interjected at the same time. He was one of the backup pilots of the “Nahel Argama”, but he did come up with the plan to reassemble the spare parts back into a machine, a “Stark Jegan” that could be deployed in cases of emergency, so he was no ordinary personnel. He recalled their bold expressions, “Understood. Please take care of me.” and answered back. Once the elevator had risen, he stepped on the pedal. (Master Banagher.) a respectful voice different from before immediately rang, causing him to be a tad slower in getting on the catapult deck.
(Once the path to “Industrial 7” is opened, we’ll force our way into “Magallanica”. Please do not force yourself.)
It was Gael. He, who was familiar with the construct of the “Magallanica”, was in charge of leading Conroy and the ECOAS members. (Got it. I hope you’ll be fine too, Mr Gael.) Banagher answered.
(If the “Box” is really on the “Magallanica”, I guess I know where it is. Even if Frontal takes the initiative, there’s a chance to snatch it back. Please take care of yourself.)
(Our “Lotos” will be acting as moving cannons on the ship until we reach our destination. We’ll meet again on the “Magallanica” again. Squad Leader Daguza managed to preserve your life. Don’t ruin it.)
Conroy then followed up. (Path’s clear. RX-0, please launch.) At the same time, Mihiro’s voice could be heard, “Understood!” and Banagher answered them as he latched the “Unicorn” onto the catapult. Through the opened gate, he saw the catapult deck extended to the bow, moved his sights higher, and saw the space that disappeared into vast eternal darkness.
There was the icy vacuum and the warmth of many supporting him from behind. His body inadvertently shuddered as it stood on the divide, and he recalled the desires he discussed with Audrey, but at this point, it was a luxury. She, who continued to advise the Neo Zeon fleet to retreat, had advanced into the battlefield earlier than he did. As long as they could survive, they could only to talk for as long as he could. They could definitely affirm the warmth of each other, just as they did a while back.
I won’t die. I’ll definitely come back. Banagher exerted strength in his abdomen, and stared into the space in front of him.
“Banagher Links, “Unicorn Gundam”, launching!”
The catapult, powered by a linear thrust, started to glide, and the booster rockets on the back lit at the same time, causing a tremor more intense than usual to rock the cockpit. The “Unicorn” exerted the full power of its booster rockets the moment it was launched, dragging a long thruster flare as lit flew into the vacuum. The light became a large membrane that appeared behind the machine, and the lone-horned beast that had gained wings immediately left the mothership.
They had to break through the wall Full Frontal had constructed, and advance to the slumbering land of the “Laplace Box”. The preceding thoughts exploded in a thin flash of light on his forehead, causing Banagher to sense that he was resonating with the psycommu. The psycoframe was activated, the armor plates on each other slid apart, and the machine experienced an uneven torque as it accelerated and rolled to the side. Once it finished, the lone horn on the forehead broke into a V-sign, the dual-eye sensors flashed as it showed itself from the facemask, and the machine that had obtained the appearance of a “Gundam” caused the psycoframe to glow all over its body.
“This can work…!”
The machine moved according to the strength released by his body and mind; the giant become one with him, a human—Banagher raced on with the target being the space where the enemy fleet set camp. The thruster flares resonated with the red fluorescent light, and the accelerating “Unicorn Gundam” glided in space like a comet.
The unit had many cannons protruding from its back, and distanced itself rapidly as it was pushed by the large thruster flare. This scene awakened the memory that was implanted in her before she was born, the words that had become familiar with her; Marida let out a voice that was ostensibly a sigh,
“”Gundam”…”
This word unconditionally awakened the hostility within her, and her sisters, who were nurtured in the icy capsules, had viewed this as an enemy they had to defeat—however, she could no longer feel anything at this point. The only understanding she had of it was that it carried the familiar soul of Banagher, a vessel with his own thoughts, nothing more, nothing less. Marida found it intriguing, and let the “Kshatriya” move forward from the elevator that had arrived at the top. The moss-green machine closed the binders on its shoulders, trying to get through to the catapult exit. Its massive body, which had excessive specifications, stood on the catapult dangling in vacuum.
Perhaps it’s the ‘light’ I’ve been pursuing. The machine’s large size meant that it was unable to enter the catapult, and as she waited in the machine for the permit to launch, Marida started to dwelve into her thoughts. The light was born in the artificially-made body, the light had been robbed from the belly; this light has been changing its form all the time, for it has to shine into the unknown tomorrow and future. No matter how much I try to pursue it, I can’t catch up to it no matter how I pursue after it. I understood it for a long time, and because I understood, I looked away, and stopped in the darkness together with those who had lost their light. I keep looking for a flicker of light in others, but I never thought that I can be the light for others.
It’s different now. I can be the ‘light’. I have a life supporting this body of mine that has nowhere to go, the person who gave me the unique name Marida Cruz, the one who pointed me to the only thing I can follow.
“Follow my heart…is it…?”
She muttered as she put her hands on the ball-shaped control sticks. Had that man, who always hated to be called ‘master’, yet to find where his ‘light’ is? As she thought about this and looked behind, (We have a large number of incoming heat sources!) A tense voice rang through the wireless, causing Marida and the machine to look down in unison.
(20, 30…we’ve many of them approaching fast!)
(Evasive maneuver! Release the dummy meteorites! Don’t hit the launching mobile suits!)
Captain Otto’s voice rang, and the hull of the “Nahel Argama” experienced inertial gravity. Marida felt the hull move vastly to the right, and gathered her thoughts at the approaching killing intent, which had become a wall in front of her. The ones approach in an overly straight line however were not mobile suits, but long ranged missiles or something similar. Once she affirmed this, her body reacted faster than her thoughts, (Launch process aborted.) and she took initiative, saying,
“Marida Cruz, “Kshatriya”, launching!”
The main thrusters hidden in the 4 binders let out thruster flares, and the “Kshatriya” left the catapult deck as it rose in a straight trajectory. It was impossible to have 100% output, but the balance was not too bad, and the damaged parts had lightened the machine, so she could offset the imbalance if she could control it well. As she flew in the G-force pressing down from above, Marida finished her affirmations within 3 seconds, and immediately turned the machine, which had risen by several kilometers, forward. The 4 binders flapped, and once the “Kshatriya” raised the twin barreled Beam Gatling guns on the right arm forward, it turned into a block of thruster flare as it advanced briskly.
There were 32 incoming missiles, and though they were suppressing shots fired with the help of the optical sensors, but several of them were on course to the “Nahel Argama” path. The “Unicorn Gundam” preceding her seemed to have sensed the same killing intent, “Leave them, Banagher!” and Marida, who had realized this, shouted out as she accelerated the “Kshatriya”.
“I’ll handle this! Move forward!”
The mobile suit squadron swarming from behind the missiles was pressuring her field of senses, and it seemed Tennyson’s fleet intended to crush them with its full strength. (Got it! I’ll leave it to you!) Once she actually heard Banagher’s voice, she gathered her consciousness on her field of senses that was synchronizing with the psycommu. 5, 6…she caught the vibration of the missiles flying in a straight line, read their paths, and released her sudden will to fight in the form of a voice.
“Funnels, go!”
The wing-like binders expanded throughout, and the several funnels hidden within flew out. The mini automatic cannons were controlled by the psycommu as they glided out in a zig-zag, and Marida’s consciousness followed them into the void. The incoming missiles loomed, and she could clearly sense the structures of the warheads that had abandoned their propulsion rockets. In an instant, which felt like an eternity, the funnels that were synchronized with the consciousness fired mega particle cannons, and the scorching light exploded within her senses.
This scene immediately became reality as it appeared in Marida’s eyes, agitating her senses. There were more than 10 exploded fireballs expanding in the “Nahel Argama” way, gradually covering the silhouette of the “Unicorn Gundam” that was moving away. The lights signifying the beginning of the battle exploded between the two armies, lighting the long road to “Industrial 7” like a torch.
The idling sound of the nuclear rocket engine echoed in the ship, and unlike a jet engine, it felt as boring as that of an air-conditioner. Unlike the Dodai Kai that was to be used only in gravity, the Base Jabbers used in space did not have much room.
Alberto grabbed onto the seat's back that was surrounded by consoles, moved his body towards the co-pilot seat, and turned his body with much difficulty in an attempt not to touch the cluster of buttons. After much effort, he finally managed to put his rear into the cramped seat, and just when the backpack of his normal suit was to be fastened to the attachments, (Mr Alberto, will you kindly reconsider?) Captain Maseki’s voice rang through the wireless.
(Our fleet has no order to necessarily interfere with this battle. If anything happens to you, the responsibility will fall upon me.)
The hired Captain only focused on his own issues, and did not say anything else. He followed the instructions given by the Vist Foundation, being mindful of the attitudes of the Senate Council members backing Alberto, and notably, that of the Empress of the Moon that had tamed them all. I’m still in aunt’s hands now. Once he again realized that he had never escaped from her clutches, Alberto turned his sights to the pilot seat at his left. He nodded at the pilot, who was looking back uneasily, and prompted the latter to launch, “I should have explained before.” He said into the wireless communicator shamelessly,
“I have no intentions of joining the battle. I just want to use the resonance function of the psycoframe to support the “Banshee”.”
He operated the display monitor on the console and summoned the visual of the wide platform onto the back of the pilot seat. There were 8 large containers carrying spare parts of the “Banshee” at the section originally used for ferrying mobile suits, 4 on top, 4 at the bottom, fastened with cable. Leaving aside the fact that he could have provided support by equipping armaments, it was normal for Maseki and the pilot to find it strange that Alberto was claiming to support by ferrying spare parts over. The “Axis Shock” had proven that unknown characteristics of the psycommu, and these ordinary soldiers definitely would not understand. Even Alberto, who had personally witnessed the creation of the field, did not dare to say how well acquainted he was.
“The spare parts on this Base Jabber have psycoframe on them, enough to build a Unicorn-unit. The more it can resonate, the more beneficial it will be for the “Banshee”.”
(The Moon observatory has caught sight of battle lights. They have begun. You’ll be entering the battlefield.)
“Just what I want. The more agitated the battlefield is, the easier it is to capture the “Banshee” psycowaves. We’ll be pulled together once I approach.”
The psycofield would expand vastly due to resonance, and if he entered the battlefield that would be filled with it, he might be able to pick up the psycowaves of Ple Twelve—Marida Cruz. While there was no evidence, Alberto had no other deduction to rely on, and got ready for the launch impact. The generator soon got louder, (But the psycoframe has no psycommu function, it’s just an ordinary metal…!) and reverberated together with Maseki’s growl.
“That should have been the case, but the data shows something more. There’s still value in trying this out.)
Alberto did not have confidence that he could only to say such baseless words unabashedly as he cut off the communication on his side, and looked over at the black space on the other side of the opened gate. There was more than 50,000km from this point to the battlefield, the “General Revil” was moving at maximum battle speed, and the Base Jabber, using the catapult force and the booster rockets equipped on both sides, would probably reach the battlefield an hour and a half later than the “Banshee”. The chances of the “Banshee” and “Unicorn” meeting immediately was nearly zero in this space filled with Minovsky particles, amidst the Shoal Space region filled with the debris of many colonies. If successful, he would be able to reach the “Banshee” before the two machines meet.
It was useless to think about what would happen later on, but the one thing he was certain was that he would be unable to interfere if he did not do this. He would lose the chance to get back Marida Cruz forward, and could only watch the unshakeable fact as the ‘final gambit’ activates. As long as there was a reason for him to accept the happenings around him, it was enough; simply put, he wanted to reason to take the first step forward. Once he affirmed this in his heart, he stared at the icy darkness, the darkness that appeared in front of his eyes once he escaped from his aunt’s clutches. Amidst it, there was darkness in the sapphire blue eyes, ostensibly leading into the deep sea—
“I won’t let you be taken by anyone. I must personally…”
As he unwittingly muttered, “We’re launching. There’ll be a massive G-force pressing on us. Please be prepared.” the pilot spoke up, and Alberto again pressed his helmet onto the headrest. The catapult deck leading to the bow lights its guiding lights, and the countdown at the gate pointed to zero. The nuclear engine buzzed till its climax, and the Base Jabber started to move forward.
The Sub-Flight System had two containers on its flat frame, and left the “General Revil” through its own thrust. It then lowered its relative velocity, flying safely as if it were a civilian space shuttle. Once its displacement from the “General Revil” was 3km, the Base Jabber’s assist boosters lit up, and it proceeded with the first acceleration. The G-force bordering on danger pressed upon Alberto’s body, and he was crushed onto the co-pilot before he could groan.
The rubbing vibration echoed within the cockpit, and the blood in the entire body gathered at the back. The hands grabbing at the armrests were unable to move, the saliva flowing out from the side of his lips, climbing onto his trembling cheeks. His darkened vision narrowed hastily, and just as he felt he was about to lose consciousness, he continued to stare at the Moon glowing in front of him.
He was headed to a distant place neither his departed father’s soul nor Martha’s demonic clutches could reach. Without knowing whether he was falling or rising, he raced through the space of eternal night, being alone for the first time.
The Musaka-class cruisers, when viewed from above, had the shape of an acute isosceles triangle, giving the impression that it was a miniature version of the Rewloola –class. Its unique trait was the two heat sink panels installed at the aft, expanding to both port and starboard like the wings. This structure was not just simply to increase the effectiveness of cooling the nuclear engines, but also to increase the mobility.
The Earth Federation force they were facing had a much smaller fighting strength, and there was no need for large ship cannon bombardments, even if it were to be a signal. Their main priority was to maintain a mobile fleet that could allow for quickstrike attacks while sustaining enough operating mobile suit squardrons on their side—This was the fleet building philosophy established in the Second Neo Zeon War, and had continued as a tradiation amongst the so-called “Sleeves”. There was no other battleship in this Neo Zeon fleet other than the flagship, the “Rewloola”. If one included the newly built ships that had entered space within the past three years, the main force, the Tennyson fleet, was composed only of Musaka-classes and some disguised ships with mobile suits on board, forming a mobile fleet array comprising a total of 15 ships. While a large fleet could not quickly respond, this definition was not suited for the Tennyson fleet. Under the command of the fleet commander Captain Tennyson, all the ship captains had undergone strict training in the shoal space region, were well-versed in maneuvering the massive ships like fighter jets, and were used to coordinate more than a hundred fomrations. This is the effect of the unique operation directive Tennyson exercised, by dividing the fleet into 5 squadrons, and deleglating each commander with a suitable amount of autonomy.
With Tennyson’s own squadron as the center, the fleet, divided into groups of 3 ships, scattered apart separately, hoping to form a 2-3 defensive wall against the enemy intending to break through the middle. It had been 30 minutes since the battle began, and though they had to change formations due to being suppressed by the unexpectedly stubborn enemy, Tennyson had confidence that they could settle this before the Shoal Space Region.
Even if the frontline was broken through, the vanguard forces were well-versed in turning back and uniting with the rear group to surround the enemy. At the very least, they would not have to involve the Gajumal fleet harboring Full Frontal’s personal escorts. If they were successful, he felt it was not impossible to sink the “Nahel Argama” before Frontal was done with resupply, and move the entire fleet to “Industrial 7”.
However—
“Bridges’ fleet was broken through…?”
It had been 5 minutes since the order was given to change formations. The squadron tasked as the vanguard had sent out a distress signal, causing Tennyson to inadvertently get up from the commander’s seat. At a corner of the flagship “Garom” ordinary bridge, the Operator facing the sensors turned around with a pale look, “That’s right.” And said.
“Details are unknown due to the space wreckage, but every ship is repeatedly reporting ‘Unable to steer’.”
“We haven’t entered the Shoal Space Region! How can there be a space with so much debris that laser communication is jammed—?”
He roared, but was suddenly unable to do anything. They were however not of the shoal space, but countless debris floating in the battlefield—the wreckage of mobile suits destroyed in battle. According to the Intel Frontal provided, the “Mock Trojan Horse” only had a few mobile suits on board. Considering the fact that the enemy was still attacking, it was hard to imagine these debris, jamming the communicators, to be from the enemy units.
“Our units got sunk…?”
The captain of the “Goram”, seated at the Captain’s seat beside Tennyson, “Are we going to activate the battle bridge?” asked as he looked back with an observant look. Tennyson would never hide inside the battle bridge even during battle, as a show of confidence that he could survive no matter what battle he was in. He glanced over at the captain, who deliberately asked this despite knowing, and kept the answer to himself as he leaned his body to the window at the front of the bridge. Reflected off the window was the uniformed attire sans the normal suit, as part of the tradition in the Principality army’s era, and he stuck his face on the thick, transparent plastic board.
“Set a formation with the two backup squads in the Shoal Space Region. Send a mobile suit squadron to search for survivors.”
He ignored the recitations as he stared at the distant battlefield. The fires in vacuum were exceptionally cold, and from across the “Geara Zulus” units providing direct cover to the “Garom”, he could see numerous lights of explosions appear and disappear, flickering throughout, with crossing beams etching out burning trails in his sight. There was no refraction of light, and the lights looked exceptionally bright, the distance being probably 1,000km away…or closer. Either way, the light rings of explosions expanded as time passed, proving that the target breaking through the frontlines was headed for them.
“There’s someone being an obstacle there…is it that mobile suit called the “Unicorn”?”
It was just a small enemy, but it oppressed them with the obstacle called willpower, and this feeling—Tennyson had experienced this feeling before, at the battle of the space fortress “A Baoa Qu”, and that was the first time he felt uneasy standing at the windowside without any defense. Impossible, he muttered in his heart, and suppressed the impulse to leave the window. The vanguard is broken through because there’s an enemy’s broadcast of someone impersonating Mineva Zabi, causing the soldiers to be skeptical and confused when attacking. A mere mobile suit can’t possibly cause this much pressure to the Tennyson fleet. He clenched his hands that were resting on the window, “Carry out all anti-air surveillance seriously!” he barked to cast aside his inner timidity.
“The enemy’s just a damaged ship. No matter how powerful the mobile suit is, it’s impossible to bre—”
A flash then occurred outside in an instant, and the intense flash filled the entire bridge as the anti-glare filter could not negate it completely. The shockwave expanded from up close, rocking the ship, and the scattered debris pattered around as it hit on the outer walls of the ship. Tennyson immediately covered his eyes, and through the gap between his fingers, he saw a scorching flame and the arm of a “Geara Zulu” being ripped apart. Before he could realize that the covering mo ile suit was shot down, “Incoming heat source, fast approaching!” The Communiator Operator’s voice sounded like a shriek as the incoming alarm rang throughout the bridge.
“Too slow! What’s the mobile suit squads doing!?”
He hollered without any restrain, and again looked outside the window. The enemy passed through the allied machines that should have been there, shooting down the cover units from outside the sensor range— where is it ? He looked towards the explosion lights that were approaching, and his expression reflected off the window turned pale due to fear. In a corner of his eye, there was a red light different from the lights of explosion.
A phosphorus red light, different from an explosion or a thruster flare, darted through space like a mirage and approached them. “It’s too fast…!” The Operator groaned, “It’s coming!” another voice overpowered it, and an unprecedentedly powerful shockwave rocked the “Goram” bridge.
It felt as if they were crushed in a large beast’s jaw, and then shaken away with brute force. Tennyson was sent flying away, and he crashed into the ceiling before he could protect himself. The lights in the bridge had turned red, flickering about, and the Steering Operator was tossed away from his seat, bouncing through the bridge like a ball. Tennyson wanted to ask for a damage report, but was unable to breathe, and as he, in his confusion, grabbed onto the helm , the red glowing light passed through the port of the ship, and entered his eyes.
“A “Gundam”…?”
Shrouded in the red phosphorous light, the white color of the armor and the unique silhouette of the machine was unmistakeable. It instantly vanished, and a newly created explosion shook the bridge. “A direct hi to the engine room! It’s a direct hit!” The Communication Operator’s voice rang in Tennyson’s ears.
(There’s a large breach in the thruster nozzle! It looks like it was chewed through! What is that thing!?)
(The “Charne” at the back seemed to have gotten hit too! It’s breaking off course!)
(It’s closing in! We’re about to crash!)
“Evade! Turn using the sub thrusters! Mobile suit squadrons are to give pursuit!”
The Captain grabbed onto the Captain’s seat, and upon hearing the reports coming in fromt everywhere, hollered out. However, his instructions were refuted by the Communications Operator, “The heat sink panels are destroyed! We can’t increase the engine’s output!” The Captain’s face appeared in the flickering red lights,and he was at a loss of what to say.
“The covering mobile suit squadrons have all been destroyed. Recall the single ship at the front back to defend.”
“The “Charne” sent a signal. It can’t move.”
The Operator’s voice sounded like a final blow. There was once a Federation unit that passed through the intercrossing fires of “A Baoa Qu”, opening a large hole in the Zeon’s defense fleet; the machine in front of his eyes had inherited that machine’s design. “The White Devil…?” Tennyson groaned as he leaned his body, floating weakly in zero gravity, onto the window. “Incoming enemy units from behind!” The Operator’s shout rang, and the Captain did not look back at Tennyson as he gave the order, “All hands, put on your normal suits!” Immediately afterwards, a collision impact passed through from the aft to the stern, and the unexpected term of ‘defeat’ was etched in Tennyson’s body and mind.
The “Goram” nozzles at the aft were burning, wrecked, and the “Charne” that crashed into them. The two ships crashed together dully, like they were being docked, probably because it was because their relative velocities were almost identical. The “Unicorn Gundam” turned its back on them, and attacked the remaining Musaka-class ship forming the core team. The white machine zig-zagged with the help of its booster rockets, did not give the enemy the time to fire a perimeter of anti-air shots, and got to the belly of the Musaka-class. Banagher’s muscles twitched as he felt the G-force pressing on him everywhere, caught sight of the killing intent in front of him, and stared at the CG-corrected visual on the all-view monitor.
Two “GAZA-D” squadrons fired their large beam cannons, dubbed the Knuckle Busters, and transformed into mobile armor form before approaching. The hooks, which were the legs in mobile suit form, reached out like a raptor, and just before two units, resembling that of a bug, could scatter, Banagher fired the Hyper Bazookas on the shoulders. The physical shots were fired in anticipation of each unit’s trajectory, and the scattered metal balls, amounting in hundreds, rained down on where the “Gaza Ds” were. The two units were struck by the balls, crashing in at 10 times the sound of sound, and spun out of control. Once that happened however, Banagher saw a “Geara Zulu” squadron fly over to fill the opening the previous two machines left behind.
“Back down!”
The Beam Gatling guns in his arms quickly spun around, and let out 4 trails of rapid-fire beams. Banagher ceased the opportunity shown when the 3 “Geara Dogas” showed fear, and immediately closed in on the Musaka-class ship. The moss-green ship evaded upon seeing the abnormality of the ships in front, but once they passed each other, Banagher threw the remaining half of his grenades out. These mobile-suit grenades did not activate immediately, but floated around the Musaka-class, and once they grazed the directional nozzles on the side, they exploded.
The heat from the thrusters, which were activated in an attempt to change directions, ignited the grenades. The thrusters were knocked aside by the explosion, and the other thrusters, which were lit to stabilize the hull, triggered another set of grenades, causing the stabilizing nozzles on both sides to be engulfed in the lights of the explosion. The beam Magnum fired then grazed through the aft, and the heat and scattered particles melted the nozzles of the main thrusters. The Musaka-class became a large metal scrap that could not move, despite its turbines and weapons being unaffected.
Once the main thrusters were destroyed, the spaceships would share the fate of a rudderless naval ship. Banagher glanced down at the floating ship, affirmed there was no need to sink it, and left the Musaka-class, passing through the shots from the covering units.
2 “Geara Dogas” were pursuing, firing their beam machine guns, and there were beams raining from top and bottom. Some missiles then came a tad little, activating the approach sensors, and the lights of explosions engulfed the “Unicorn Gundam”. Banagher was shaken by the club-like impacts slamming upon him as he continued to look around, and caught sight of new enemies closing in from top and bottom. The “Geara Zulus” disembarked from the flat SFS, and fired its beam machine gun as it approached from below. A black machine resembling a SFS turned its bow towards its back, and once its wing-like thruster unit was folded up, it transformed into a mobile suit wielding a large beam rifle; the expanded window showed a matching data, indicating it was the AMX-008 “Ga-Zowmnn”.
Above him was another group of “Geara Zulu”, replacing the “Ga Zowmnn”, approaching fast. There were 7 machines pursuing from 3 directions, including the 3 “Geara Dogas” chasing from behind. Banagher, whose senses were synchronized with the psycommu, felt their ‘presences’, and made an emergency brake by flaring the stabilizing burners on its body, negating the momentum brought forth by the booster rockets, and decelerated while seemingly moving backwards. The “Unicorn Gundam” changed into the middle of the perimeter formed by the 7 enemy units, and fired all the weapons it was equipped with, causing a rain of beams and physical bullets to scatter around like a storm.
The six Beam Gatling guns on its arms and back spun and fired at the same time, the two Hyper Bazookas pointed upwards fired their 380mm cannons, and the anti-ship missiles littered on the bazookas were shot out afterwards. The missiles carried trails of gas and hit the “Ga Zowmnn” directly, and once he felt felt the machine above get knocked aside above, Banagher squeezed onto the trigger, trying to scatter away any incoming pressure. The “Unicorn Gundam” raised its arms, let loose trails of Beam Gatling guns, and spun around, punching holes in the abdomens of the “Geara Dogas” and ripping their limbs off. The “Ga Zowmnn” took direct hits from the mega particles, and exploded; as the explosion light expanded around, the machines that were fired upon were engulfed by the white hot lights, and the psycoframe let out bewitching lights as it sensed the ‘presences’ released by the enemies.
“That’s 19 of them…!”
He let out these words with bated breath, and again stepped on the pedal. The “Unicorn Gundam” swpt aside the lingering ‘presences’ that disappeared amidst the explosions, and once it moved forward again, a pressure struck Banagher from behind. He instinctively felt danger, and as the intention automatic system reacted, a mega particle cannon, completely different from a mobile suit portable weapon, grazed past, the shockwave hitting the machine as it rolled to the side. The Musaka-class was unable to move, but as it still had its weapons, it continued to bombard. Banagher endured the G-force bearing on his body as he dodged the incoming shots side to side, wanting to let the machine move forward as he glided in space.
This was not a bad decision. The Musaka-class intended to shoot down the “Gundam”, which was flying away, as it fired the cannons attached to it. However, the third cannon at the aft was shot down at the base before it could reload. A beam came from a completely different direction, shooting the turret down along with the capacitor at the base. The Musaka-class veered further off course, shaken by the explosions right at the back of the bridge construct. There were many small objects above it, so small even the motion sensors could not pick up, and these things flew back to their main machine far away—the “Kshatriya”.
“I won’t let anyone shoot the “Gundam” down.”
The dozen funnels or so hid within the binders to recharge, and Marida’s “Kshatriya” followed the “Unicorn Gundam”. Even after breaking through the core squadron, the two squadrons at the back remained unscathed, and once Marida sensed the incoming missiles, released the funnels that were just recharged. The psycommu devices danced and swirled about, letting out crossing beams, triggering 2, 3 explosion rings, and caused the countless scorching debris to scatter towards the Shoal Space region.
The space debris, which had triggered the motion sensors approximately 10 minutes ago, increased in numbers, and had become a meteorain passing by at high speeds as they appeared on the all-view monitor. There were melted bits of metal even after dodging, grazing the Base Jabbers that was shaking and moving behind. (What’s going on…!) Watts Stepney’s voice echoed with the tremors of the stabilizing burners that was activated from time to time, entering the ears of Nigel Garrett, who was seated in the “Jesta”.
(Even if this is the Shoal Space Region, there’s too many of these things.)
(We haven’t reached there yet. This is debris that’s just created.”
Daryl McGuinness said, and at the same time, a detailed visual of a space wreckage reached them. Though Nigel had some idea of it, he still let out a gasp.€ The CG corrected visual showed the mechanical arm of a mobile suit—and one could clearly tell from that unique sleeve design that it belonged to a “Sleeve” machine. The mechanical arm was probably separated from an exploded machine, and there were many unknown bits floating around, flying past at bullet speed.
It had been 9 hours since they were tasked to head off to the Shoal Space region midway through their journey to the “L1 Langrange Point”. The 3 “Jestas” had their own Base Jabbers, and the wreckage, which they had not seen for quite a while, was actually part of the debris. It was true it was not the Shoal Space region yet, and the lights of battle flashing at their desination were seemingly helping the Shoal Space Region expand, creating new debris. (How many units are attacking…) Nigel however ignored Watts’ murmuer as he stared at the ongoing battle far away. He had noticed beams and explosions 30 minutes ago, and these continued to happen without pause; however, the scale of this was not too large. These lights were focused at a particular area however, and it seemed they were headed to the Shoal Space Region; if it were two large forces fighting, one could see that the size of the battlefield would be larger.
“The “Nahel Argama”…and the “Unicorn”?”
Looking at the scenario, there was no other guesses. The Londo Bell ship—the rebel ship that was to be arrested under the behest of the army, was fighting alone against the “Sleeves” fleet, headed to the Shoal Space region. Nigel frowned at this unexpected development, but was troubled as he sensed this was not unexpected. (Leader, our Base Jabber fuel’s at their limit.) Daryl’s voice rang, yet it seemed so distant.
(We have to turn here if we want to head towards the rendezvous point with the “General Revil”. We’ll end up in the battlefield at this rate.)
It had been 2 hours since the Base Jabber abandoned the boosters with the depleted fuel and advanced forward only with its thrusters. Even if they were to turn here, the thrusters would have been depleted by the time they rendezvous with the “General Revil”, and the “Jesta” might have to climb back on board through its own hands. “That’s true…” Nigel answered as he continued to stare at the flickering lights of battle that was luring him. He knew, common sense-wise, that he should turn back, but he just could not make the decision. There seemed to be an unknown ‘presence’ amidst the lights of battle. Perhaps he was tired?
This was probably the case. A little nap on the Base Jabber would be insufficient in removing the fatigue of wearing a normal suit for an entire day. It would be better to wait for Riddhe’s “Banshee” and analyse the situation. Nigel opened the helmet visor, and rubbed his eyes littered with eyewax, (What’s this voice?) but lifted his eyelids once he heard Watts.
He increased the volume of the wireless communicator and paid close attention. There seemed to be someone’s voice ringing amidst the static, causing his heart to jump. (It’s a girl’s voice, she’s saying something.) Daryl’s voice rang, and upon hearing this, Nigel adjusted the wireless communicator frequency.
(…There is no meaning in fighting. This “Nahel Argama” is no longer a Federation or Zeon ship. Our aim is simply to prevent the “Laplace Box” from being misused.)
He could finally hear a girl’s voice, (What’s that Box anyway!?) but Watts’ outburst overpowered it. “Shut up!” Nigel hissed back as he lisened in on the voice in the communicator, coming from the battlefield.
(The fighting that had occurred during this past month revolved around the “Laplace Box”. People said it has the power to topple the Federation, and perhaps it may bring a new light to Neo Zeon. But we do not live in a world where people can carry out unconscionable conduct. If we do not find a path where people on both Space and Earth can coexist, we will only renact the One Year War. As a member inheriting the blood of the Zabi family, I have a duty to prevent this from happening.)
(A heir to the Zabi family. That’s…)
Daryl’s gasp rang through the wireless, but Nigel focused on the name Mineva Zabi in his heart, and listned in onto this fading voice with his entire body.
(We are all as One, including the people hearing this broadcast. We, as one humanity, have the possibility of expanding throughout this space, but are confined within the cramped Earth Celestial Sphere. To anyone, no matter who you are, please help us, let us through, so that the light of possibilities would not disappear. We do not have time to waste on this battle. We are doing this for everyone to survive…)
The noise got worse, and the voice, which seeminglybelonged to the girl called Mineva, faded quickly. Nigel could not hear any of the voice no matter how he adjusted the frequency, lowered the volume of the wireless communicator which was left only with noise. He let out a sigh of breath accumulated within him, and looked into space. He felt goosebumps all over his body, and his heart continued to throb violently. What’s going on? He did not know how to view this situation, and the three “Jestas” were practically in a fog as silence descended upon them. (What’s going on?) Finally, Daryl asked,
(The “Nahel Argama”, with Mineva Zabi on board, is actually fighting a Neo Zeon fleet…)
“I don’t know. It doesn’t look like a Disruption Operation…looks like we still have lots of things we don’t know about.”
All contact with the “Nahel Argama” was lost since the moment it latched on with the disguised Neo Zeon ship. If it had Mineva on board…Nigel tried to think, but could only conclude that there was insufficient information, and turned his stare back to the flares of battle at their destination. The lights seemed to be beckoning for him—is it because of the voice that seems to belong to Mineva? Just as he was pondering for no real reason, (Hey, Watts!?) Daryl’s outcry rang, and a thruster flare came from a unit behind Nigel.
(Stop yapping and go save them. We’re already here now. There’s no reason for us to do nothing, right?)
Watts’ “Jesta Cannon” left the Base Jabber, and its thick body, padded with extra armor, leapt forward. But though this man was headstrong and reckless, Nigel felt from his actions that there was an urge wanting Nigel himself to make a decision, and he swallowed his urge to stop the other man. That guy noticed it too? As he pondered, Daryl’s “Jesta” moved along Nigel’s, (Hold it!) And there was a holler on the wireless.
(We don’t know what’s going on. What are you trying to do?)
(A Federation ship’s fighting with a Neo Zeon fleet. There’s only one obvious thing we can do!)
Nigel ostensibly saw Daryl’s speechless expression, and was amused by Watts’ overly simplistic logic, “This seems reasonable too.” He said. (Leader…!) Daryl answered back, his tone filled with criticism.
(There’s a girl pleading for help. What kind of men are we to ignore her?)
The “Jesta Cannon” lit its thrusters and started to accelerate, as if there was no need for another reason. Watts too certainly understood how dangerous it would be to interfere without being certain of the situation, but Nigel believed Watts too was being called, and murmured the one thing he should do in this situation. He felt the bloodrush in his mind fade away, and let out a wry look. (Seriously…what do we do?) Daryl let out a sigh, and as Nigel looked over at his unit, he affirmed that the former had felt the same, and held onto the control stick.
“No choice now. We’ll follow him.”
The “Jesta” thrusters were still intact, and it was very easy to reach the battlefield at such a short distance. Even if the fuel was depleted, they could request the “Nahel Argama” to take them in. With this shred of minimal rationality left, Nigel detached his unit from the Base Jabber. “Go back to the “General Revil” first. I’ll leave the reporting to you.” He notified the pilots on the Base Jabbers, and stepped on the pedal without waiting for their answers.
The “Jestas” floated up from the Base Jabbers, and started to accelerate with the help of the lit main thrusters. Daryl’s machine followed behind, and the two machines flew past the incoming debris to catch up to Watts’ machine, which had gone on first. Right, we came all the way here. There’s no reason for us to turn back without doing anything. The “Unicorn”, Mineva, the “Laplace Box”. We’ve been dragged along by these things, so at least we have to see the truth for ourselves. Nigel readied his beam rifle to a position where he could fire at will, and stared at the battlefield with many lingering ‘presences’. The three units let out long tails of thruster flares, ostensibly shaking off the despondence from being fastened on the Base Jabbers, and passed through the space region filled with debris.
(…40% of the entire force has been neutralized, and the entire fleet is retreating back to the Shoal Space region. Our Gajumal force will open the last line of defense here, so please hurry to “Industrial 7” as soon as possibly, Captain. The “Mock Trojan Horse” is closing in.)
Commander Gajumal’s expectant face appeared on the communication panel 10 inches wide, and it was this aspect that was unforgivable. They look as if they was a member of a stable world, but his viewpoint was hindered by his rigid imagination, and when there’s something unexpected, they either exclaim that it’s impossible, will not face it, or start shifting blame, looking all loyal and courageous, saying that they did all they can do. These foolish adults are all like this, always thinking that they just need to maintain their pride even if the world’s destroyed.
It had been 5 hours since they were taken in by the flagship of the Gajumal fleet, the “Guskor”. The emergency repairs on the “Rozen Zulu”, which had lost an arm, was completed, and Frontal’s squad was ready to be deployed, but this was not the issue they were facing. Angelo Sauper was at a corner of the mobile suit deck, facing the communication panel on the catwalk wall in the maintenance side, looking around at the faces of the subordinates standing to the side.
The two of them were pilots from the escort squad, in their early 20s. Lieutenant Rakar and Ensign Reil remained still as they continued to stare at their superior officer, who was ready to die, with dignity and respect. The pilots at the shackles too looked solemn as they stared at the monitor, with no intention to call out the commander for wasting fighting strength due to his little understanding. Why? Why isn’t anyone angry? It’s because of people like Garumal that our country’s destroyed. We’re the ones suffering from their indecisiveness and debts.
“There’s only one empty vessel, and you mess it up!”
The dissatisfaction exploded from Angelo’s mouth in the form of a roar, and he felt Rakar and everyone else gasp. Garumal did not seem to notice the fact that a lower-ranked personnel lashed out at him, and was taken back. Angelo glared at their faces and took a step closer to the monitor.
“The enemy only has a “Gundam” as its main fighting force! Concentrate your attacks on it! It’s because you’re still gathering your fleet obediently—!”
“I’ll sortie this time, Commander Garumal.”
Someone suddenly interjected, and interrupted Angelo’s words with a nonchalant tone. The latter turned behind, and saw a masked face from beyond the shoulders of his subordinates. He did not know where he could vent his frustrations on (But Captain, you…) Garumal gave a skeptical voice, “I want to extinguish the flames now.” Full Frontal said as he looked over.
“I’ll bring the escort squad along. The deployed forces are to take independent action. Please notify the frontlines.”
(Yes! Good luck!)
Garumal said as he saluted, showing a look Angelo felt belonged to those irrespsonsible adults. They started a war, seeking death, and turned the world upside down; they left their debts for us to pay, and they bear responsibility, thinking that it’s martyrdom for the greater good. This is the one thing I really can’t stand about them. We must at least make them embarrassed over their own imcompetence. How else are they going to pay this debt! Angelo pursued after the red silhouette which turned to leave, and left the wall of escort squad members, “Captain…!” he protested, but as Frontal crossed the handrail of the catwalk, “I told you before”, he said as he turned his masked face aside slightly.
“The pilot of the “Unicorn Gundam” is a Newtype, and a power Newtype will affect the people around him. It is better to assume the current “Mock Trojan Horse” as an actual Newtype Corp.”
The white glove grabbed onto the handrail, and the tall, hulking figure floated in the mobile suit deck. The fiery red armor of the “Sinanju”, outfitted with its equipment, looked dazzling behind Frontal’s lush blond hair that was floating about.
“Also, they do have Lieutenant Marida’s “Kshatriya”. Numbers alone won’t be able to beat Newtypes. The fleet will be broken through soon.”
The words indicated that he knew this would happen, and this caused Angelo to relax his shoulders and shake off his unhappiness. This strong directiveness, merciless penetration for our objective, will ultimately guide us to our final victory, bring order to the world in chaos, and purify the blood-stained bedsheet.
We don’t need a cause, personal reputations and deignity. As long as we are with this mask, who will never back down when pitted against the world, who has the power to surpass humanity— “It’s your turn now, Angelo.” Angelo embraced Frontal’s words, which had been imposed on him.
“Show me the true value of the “Rozen Zulu”. Hurry with the preparations.”
“Yes! I’ll definitely dispatch the “Unicorn Gundam” for you. I’m betting on your life.”
My life’s insufficient to wager on; the term ‘determination’ only comes into effect when betting on the most valuable things in this world. “I’m looking forward to it.” Frontal answered and left the handrail, whilst Angelo stood still and watched him leave.
“Don’t get devoured by him. It’ll be a lonely sight without that rose every day.”
The masked face said from beyond the shoulder, causing Angelo to hallucinate seeing the blue eyes under the mask. I won’t get swallowed by it. My life, my body are already a part of you. “Yes…!” Angelo brought his heels together and swallowed his surging emotions as he watched Frontal leave. Frontal had completely excluded Angelo from his thoughts, and once the latter watched him leave and enter the “Sinanju” cockpit, Angelo looked back at the massive “Rozen Zulu” at the hangar beside him.
The machine had lost its right hand, and was directly fitted with a shield; the Musaka-class mobile suit deck was too narrow for it. The shield included mega particle diffusion cannons, and also a ‘unique equipment’ against the “Unicorn” on the backpack. Angelo stared at the massiveness that showed all these aspects, and felt that he, at this point, would not lose even if he were to take on the entire world. He felt the majestic appearance fitted him, and he curled his lips aupwards. The shield fitted on the right hand directly could fire an INCOM claw, just like the remaining left hand, and fire in all directions through the scattered mega particle cannons. I don’t care if the enemy’s a Newtype or something else, it’s going to be effortless stopping a single unit. And with this ‘unique equipment’, I’ll definitely bury the “Unicorn” for good this time, together with that arrogant pilot who had the talent the Captain recognized, but irresponsibily forsaken us with such pretty words.
“Banagher Links. It’ll be over this time…!”
I’m going to shred whatever small possibility there is and prove to the Captain that he’s wrong. Angelo put on his helmet and kicked himself off the handrail of the catwalk. The raised shoulder armor was stacked up like rose petals, and the “Rozen Zulu” silently awaited the arrival of its owner.
He kept thinking of moving forward, but his thoughts were forced back by the hard pressure closing in from the front. The pressure was then transformed into physical projectiles at the next instant, the motion sensor picking them up, and in less than half a second, he reached the point of contact.
It happened after he entered the Shoal Spaceregio and broke past the 4th fleet. Banagher pulled the control stick before the siren rang, and fired the remaining anti-ship missiles. He saw them explode at close range, triggering explosions from the trail of missiles. Another wave of pressure came in a similar trajectory however before the expanding rings of explosions became blueish-white gas, and a second volley of missiles came in two groups. His senses have picked up on the origin of the killing intent, and the “Unicorn Gundam” received the signal as its thrusters flared, practically flying in a perpendicular path.
The missiles loaded on the machine let out gaseous trails, and the enemy units, resembling missiles, closed in quickly. Banagher saw the expanded window indicate AMX-102 “Zssa” for an instant, detached the Hyper Bazookas on the shoulders, and readied them on the hands of the “Unicorn Gundam”. The missile launchers embedded on the barrel turned 90 degrees, and once they were pointed in the same direction as the muzzles, the two bazooks and missiles were fired in unison. The bazooka shots had a faster initial velocity than the missiles as they exploded on the enemy’s path, released hundreds of metal balls. Afterwards, the slower anti-ship missiles advanced in on the slowed “Zssas”.
One of them took a direct hit, was blown to bits, and became a fireball; at that instant, the remaining unit abandoned the large booster it was carrying on its back, and once the booster was buried amidst the countless metal balls, the “Zssa” showed its actual mobile suit form, its short body and stout limbs resemble a miniature puppet. It did not look suited for space combat, fired the hidden mini missiles hidden in its legs, drew its beam saber, and charged over. Banagher was highly startled by the reckless pilot who did not care about the consequences or the unit’s specificiations, and then looked frustrated.
“You started it…!”
Banagher dodged the incoming beam saber slash, and once they crossed each other, delivered a kick to its head. He then fired the head Vulcan guns at the “Zssa”, still persistent on attack, and heard a creaking sound from the machine at the same time.The “Zssa” was thoroughly perforated by the 60mm bullets, and the winds from the explosion blew the “Unicorn Gundam” aside, returning it to its original trajectory when it stopped. The air pockets pressing on the lower body shrank as the G-force was lowered, and the bloodrush to the head gradually faded away. However, the uneasy feeling of the muscles being ripped lingered on the flesh.
“That’s the 25th…26th?”
Banagher’s shoulders were humping as he panted, as he opened his helmet visor to wipe the sweat off his head. His headache lingered, and there was a numbing pain on his compressed lower body. He fired the missile launchers to purge the bolts, and as he checked the remaining 30% of his missiles, the machine turned about, catching sight of the surroundings. He could only see the countless space debris of different sizes, floating about, yet the lights from “Industrial 7” could not be seen. He could see fireballs flashing behind him. Were they from the units destroyed by the “Kshatriya”?
“I’m too far from Miss Marida. The “Nahel Argama”…”
It had been a long while since he broke contact with the “Nahel Argama’ laser communication. He summoned the rear surveillance visuals on the expanded window at the back, and reached his hand for the drinking tube. At that moment, a shrill alarm rang, and he instinctively closed his helments.
3 “Geara Zulus” were riding on “Ga Zowmnns”, approaching from above. Banagher panicked, lamenting that he did not notice their presences, and the 3 units scattered, while the small missiles from the “Ga Zowmnn” exploded arolund the “Unicorn Gundam”. Banagher managed escape from the vortexs of explosion lights in the nick of time, and fired the remaining 360mm shot from the bazooka in his right hand. The explosion expanded into a sphere, and the scattered metal balls dealt with a “Ga Zowmnn”. Banagher escaped the “Geara Zulu” Strum Faust, and as it intended to fight back with its Beam Gatling Gun, there were red words in a corner of his eyes, and a different siren hailed, ringing in Banagher’s eyes.
The pilot’s lifesign monitor flickered with a red light below the flashing NT-D signal. The time limit was up—at this moment! “Hold it! I can still fight!” The exclaimation however was overpowered by the trembling sounds of the machine’s armor sliding back, and at that moment, the enemy’s shots were gathered on the “Unicorn”, which had lost the appearance of the “Gundam”. The exploding Strum Faust flashed in front of the all-view monitor, and the scattered particles from the grazing beams hit the body. Banagher evaded subconsciously as he hollered,
“Don’t change back now! There’re still enemies!”
There was suddenly a sharp pain deep within his nostrils, causing the remaining voice to be stuck in his throat. Banagher felt a warm feeling scatter from the center of his face, spotted the blood blobs leaking from his nostrils, and hurriedly opened his helmet visor. He pushed aside the nose bleed which was floating in the form of bubbles, and wiped away with the back of his glove as he fired the beam Gatling gun at the incoming enemy. His movements were obviously dulled, and with only his thoughts running first, the machine was unable to catch up with the body.
“Because of this…!”
He would not be able to return to Audrey, he would not be able to lead Marida to the ice cream shop; He was at his limit. Banagher shook aside the words appearing in his mind, and focused on the enemies coming in three directions. He threw the Hyper Bazooka at the enemy coming from the bottom, and reached for the beam saber. It’s too slow. I won’t be able to make it. The “Geara Zulu” sliced the bazooka apart, and reached the front of the “Unicorn” through the thrust of the “Ga Zowmnn”. The moment Banagher’s widened eyes started at its monoeye, another beam shot in from another direction, and the “Geara Zulu”, shot through, exploded up close.
“What…?”
The machine, shaken by the shockwaves, repositioned itself, and scanned around. 3 thruster flares could be seen from afar, and another beam came flying in. Banagher saw the incoming enemy units scatter like they were blown apart, and a “Ga Zowmnn”, transformed into mobile suit form, explode in a chain of explosions, probably triggered from grenade explosions. This light shone upon the neighboring “Geara Zulu” and the interfering 3 mobile suits, the deep blue humanoid forms, each equipped with goggles on their main cameras, appeared in Banagher’s sights.
“A Federation new model? From where?”
Banagher did not think there would be reinforcements at this moment, and pointed his reticule at the three units. (Do you hear us? “Unicorn” pilot?) At this moment, there was a voice mixed with the noise, and he blinked, not knowing what happened.
(We’re the Tri-Stars of the Londo Bell supporting you. Retreat for the moment while the system cools off.)
Once these words were conveyed, the unit in the front moved above the “Unicorn”, and fired a screen of shots at a nearby “Geara Zulu”. The second deals a fatal blow to the “Ga Zowmnn”, and the light from the explosion caused the 3rd unit to float in the air. This 3rd unit was similar to the other two, but was a heavy armor version, with added armor and two cannons; it fired its large rifle, and two beams came from its dual barrel. The “Ga Zowmnn” in mobile armor form was knocked aside, and passed below Banagher as it decelerated rapidly.
“Londo Bell’s, Tri-Stars…?”
Banagher sensed that he met them before, but he did not know when; all he could remember was that they were similar machines to the ones he spotted on the “Ra Cailum”. The pilots seemed to be very skilled, and in the meantime, Banagher focused on grasping the locations of all the units around. He watched the 3 machines move in sync as he aimed at the enemy units. 4 lines of fire flashed about, turning the incoming miniature missiles into new spheres of explosions.
Once the “Ga Zowmnn” fired all its missiles, it got shot down by the “Jesta Cannon”, and exploded. Nigel fired his own beam rifle as well, hitting a “Geara Zulu” in the abdomen, and once he sensed the looming presence following up, he glanced at the “Unicorn” near his feet on the all-view monitor.
The white machine with the lone horn retreated from the defense line, probably sensing that there was reinforcement. “Listen to us!” Nigel called out as he pushed the “Jesta” thrusters to the maximum output.
“Our “Jestas” are originally designed to back up the “Unicorn”. We’ll take over and deal with the enemies while you take a bre—”
He endured the G force pressing on his eyeballs, and drew the beam saber hidden in the arm. The “Geara Zulu” closing in on the “Unicorn” path too drew a beam hook, and once their beam blades clashed, the beam particles slice through the abdomen.
“—ath.
Nigel finished the rest of the line with his back against the “Geara Zulu”, exploded into a fireball once its generator was ignited. (But…!) the pilot’s voice could be heard, (How dare you say ‘what’ if you’re a soldier!?) but Watts’ roar overpowered it, and Watts proceeded to close in on the enemy ranks, firing a beam that grazed above Nigel’s head unit.
(I won’t demand to know who you are now, but be ready. Once we’re over this, I’ll ask what’s going on.)
Daryl’s “Jesta” then followed up, firing a screen of shots to hold off the looming enemy forces. The enemy comprised of 4 units, two “Geara Zulus” and two “Geara Doga”, lined in a diamond. Nigel saw the “Unicorn” retreat behind Daryl’s machine through the CG-corrected visual on the expanded window, and controlled it burners to coordinate with Watts’ “Jesta Cannon”. Nigel fired a beam rifle at the “Geara Doga” in front, and moved his own unit such that the “Jesta” formed a triangle. He was surprised however to find the “Unicorn” positioned delicately in the axle; it was impossible to remain in the middle of the defense array for this long without grasping the movements of the three machines.
“Great judgment…”
Who is that pilot? Nigel was driven by the intrigue that rose in him at this point, and glanced at the expanded window showing the white machine. Suddenly, there was a looming pressure different from the enemy machines in front of them, and he instinctively reacted, causing the “Jesta” to rise.
“Scatter!”
Daryl and Watts moved their machines through a spinal reflex in response to the voice as well. At the same time, a large mega-particle beam grazed the feet, and Nigel stared at where it came from. It was a ship cannon—and he felt this wall-like pressure formed by this enemy ship. The sense, different from the usual 5 senses, brought a feeling that scattered into tiny killing intents, poking through Nigel’s head. (Watts!) This feeling became that of a voice.
(I see it!)
Watts answered back, and the “Jesta Cannon” flew towards where the beam came from with all its firepower. The beam cannons, rifle and Gatling guns tore trails of consecutive fires, turning 2 “Gaza D” fleets into fireballs as they approached along with the cannon shots. “Don’t you dare get there!” Daryl too yelled out as a “Geara Zulu” charged at the “Unicorn”, turning the “Geara Zulu” into a fireball. Nigel threw a grenade at a “Geara Doga”, lit by the lights of the explosions, and the drum-sized grenade exploded in its lap, causing an expanding ring of light to engulf the moss-green machine. A sleeved mechanical arm then spun about as it got sucked into vacuum, with the instantly cooled, blueish-white gaseous explosion as the background.
The enemy units were obviously rattled after having lost their fellow units, and retreated back. They managed to take down a medium-sized fleet in an instant—even a mock battle against rookies would not net such a high score. (Heheh. The situation’s getting scarily good.) Nigel however did not have any response to this line from Watts as he let out a sigh. (Yeah. It’s like there’s an extra eye behind us.) He then heard Daryl say this, and stared at the “Unicorn” located in the middle of the triangle.
“Is it because of that guy…?”
There was no logic to be stated, but he could sense, without a doubt, that something changed once they made contact with the “Unicorn”. They sensed each other, and their presences were gradually enlarging. They only felt an overwhelming pressure from the white unit when they battled it on Earth, but it was embracing them with some form of warmth. If this network of perceptions, which seems to cause our heads to throb, is the truth behind the power that called us here—
A heavy, sharp hostile intent interfered with their common senses, causing their 4 units to scatter. The beam then passed by them, and the scattered particles grazed upon the “Jesta” that had evaded just in time. It’s a powerful enemy, Nigel immediately understood this, and his body moved on its own as he searched for the source of this hostility at the other end of the beam.
It came in a similar direction as that of the ship cannon—but something was disappear. The beams were coming from behind, the side of the feet, and diagonally above, teasing the 4 units that were evading. At the same time, the array of killing intent with an unknown core closed in from all directions (Argh!?) (This guy is from back then…!) Watts and Daryl grunted, and Nigel felt the presence of that object as goosebumps rose on his skin. The large Incom cable swung about like a whip, and the attacks all around flashed without ceasing. At this moment, a unique-shaped machine bore thruster lights on its back as it flashed by the all-view monitor.
“It’s that rose-shaped mobile suit…!?”
The abnormally raised shoulder armor plates gave it its unique shape, and it was certainly unforgettable. It was the purple machine that was with the Red Comet’s “Sinanju”, and decimated the 16th Mission Fleet, which comprised of the “Carrot” and “Clog” ships. The Incom cannons graze past the machine, and another beam came in from another direction, breaking through the triangular formation of the Tri-Stars, just as before. Nigel saw two “Geara Zulu” with launcher cannons behind the purple machine. (Please fall back!) A voice however stopped him from wanting to attack.
(I’ll leave the enemy units behind to you! That guy’s aim is..!)
The call was cuts off, and the “Unicorn” was thrusted forward by the booster rockets on the back as it charged at the rose machine. The Incoms pursuing it continued to let beams fly, and the white machine dodged about like a locust as it departed, leaving Nigel speechless by how fast it was before he could even provide cover, (Leader!) He was awakened by Daryl’s call, and hurriedly grabbed onto the control stick again.
“Follow the “Unicorn” instructions. If that purple guy’s here, the Red Comet should be nearby. Pay attention!”
He gave the order, and swapped the E-pack of the rifle. The two “Geara Zulus” closing in fired their beam launchers again, and Nigel saw the high-powered mega-particle cannons shine upon Daryl and Watts’ unit. He held his breath, focused and squeezed the trigger. It was not their job to deal with the small fries, and they could not fully accept this ludicrous feeling. But it’s better to do this, to obey the “Unicorn” instructions on this battle. This notion however clearly appeared in his mind.
Banagher fired the Beam Gatling guns on his beam, and squeezed his fingers on the Hyper Bazooka on the left hand. A beam flying from the bottom hit the bazooka directly, causing Banagher to let go of it was it was knocked aside.
The Hyper Bazooka exploded from within, and was devoured by light, whilst the shockwave rattled the “Unicorn”. The NT-D sign had yet to shine, and the machine’s responses were still dull. Banagher used up the last bit of booster fuel left, and broke away from the “Rozen Zulu” for the time being. The Incoms that got behind him flashed 2, 3 times, and the beams of mega particles grazed beside him.
“Funnel…no, it has cables.”
The long cables let out a long arc, and appeared in the darkness from time to time, having been shone upon by the dazzling light of the beams. Of the 2 Incom extended from the “Rozen Zulu” arms, one of them was a claw-type with a manipulator function, while the other was a shield-type with mega particle cannons installed—this was the terrifying one. It seemed to have a deflection function, as the beams fired from the 3 cannons would spread and scatter lots of scorching particles in a wide area. Banagher fired his 6 Beam Gatling guns to hold off the remote cannons commonly dubbed as Incoms, drew, his beam saber, and charged forward. Once the cable was cut, the Incoms would be nullified, but the enemy would not allow him to do so that easily. The fast moving cable seemed to be mocking the slow “Unicorn” as it started a hail of shots, crossing in a wave while ostensibly wanting to trip him.
“Fast…!”
—Just die, you.
The instant he caught sight of the “Rozen Zulu” from beyond the rumbling cable, the voice struck his mind in the form of an icy wind. “What…?” Banagher groaned as he passed through the crossing beams and chased after the purple unit that vanished again.
—I hate your guts. What’s with that model student look?
The spiteful ‘voice’ struck his skull from behind, and the particles scattered from the beams rained upon the “Unicorn”. The left and right shields were activated, opening an I-field umbrella, but the full-psycommu had yet to show signs of awakening again. The Incoms struck the “Unicorn”< devoid of the “Gundam” eyes, like a venomous snake, and the sharp claw barely managed to scrape the ankle.
“You’re not done yet, “Unicorn”…?”
—You’re a stain, a stain on the white blanket. I’m going to personally eliminate you.
The snake got to the front, bared its claws and opened wide, showing the 3 cannons from deep within its mouth; and as the light of mega particles lingered, the NT-D sign reappeared again and lit up in a red light.
“It’s here…!”
The impulse lashing from within the helmet exploded in the form of a weak light at the forehead. Right when the “Unicorn” lone horn was about to break into two pieces—(Don’t you think about it!)a cry from reality rang just a fraction of a second earlier, and small objects were shot out from the back of the “Rozen Zulu”.
6 cylindrical objects, ostensibly resembling miniature missiles, zigzagged around the “Unicorn” and transformed into antenna-like panels. In an instant, the NT-D signal quickly flashed, shrank back when they were deployed, and there were rapid alerts on the monitor regarding the malfunctioning psycommu. Banagher’s nerves were being ripped along with the machines, and he let out a howl of agony as the sudden pain exploded in his skull.
Numerous warning windows appeared on the all-view monitor, and the words ‘signal lost’ kept flashing on it in front. The moveable frame let out rubbing sounds as they wereforcefully prevented from opening, and the pieces of sliding armor was trembling, The lone horn could not open even though it wanted to, and shuddered slightly from within, whilst the psycoframe below it flickered randomly. Banagher saw the lights flicker intensely, but was hapless. What? What happened? The Intention Automatic System did not respond at all, and the “Unicorn” stood still, restrained by an invisible wave, like it was electrocuted.
“The psycommu’s cut off…?”
The 6 little machines surrounded the unit, and formed an octahedron—so these funnel like obects are the culprits behind this? Banagher raised the control stick, aimed the reticule at the objects, and swung the beam saber down. The objects let out a burst from its thrusters to dodge the dodge, and the other 5 units moved along, maintaining an octahedron shape. After missing the attack, the “Unicorn” barely managed to turn around, and the Incoms that had flown into the octahedron slammed upon its back, causing him to feel a physical impact this time.
(How does it feel to have the psyco jammer used on you? You can’t do anything if you can’t transform into the “Gundam.)
The Incom grabbed onto the right booster rocket, and Angelo’s voice came through the claws gnawing at the armor. Banagher repeated the unfamiliar term Psyco Jammer, took the flares of mega particles that exploded from the Incom behind him, and witnessed the all-view monitor being dyed in a scorching color..
The attack from up close caused the booster rocket fuel to explode from within, turning it into a large fireball. The “Unicorn” managed to escape in time, but decelerated as it was held back by the expanding impact, and Banagher was buried in the spinny starry space. The funnel-like Psyco Jammer surrounded the machine that was quickly decelerating, and continued to release the invisible energy. The large body of the “Rozen Zulu” twitched its monoeye, and the Incom came attacking like a sickle head—.
(It’s over, Banagher Links!)
Angelo’s voice was off-pitched due to delight as it permeated through the utterly terrified body, causing Banagher to sniff the stench of the death god.
He rode upon the Hypersonic Transport chartered by Anaheim Electronics from Dakar’s airport for more than 3 hours, and after flying over the Atlantic and two-thirds of the North American continent, arrived at the Federation airforce’s Anti-Air Command Base in Cheyenne.
This terrain had more beasts of burden than humans in the old centuries, and even after the tragedy of the One Year War, this fact still remained. The HST landed on the plainlands of Wyoming, overlooking the darkness of the distant Rockies before it was dawn, and the landing gear was fastened on the runway, the only concrete area in the base. Ronan, together with Martha, was welcomed by his peers at the Senate Council, and rode on the military electric car; he was whisked into the underground Anti-Air Command Base before he could glance at the moonless night.
They passed through a tunnel-shaped entrance in the foothills, and the Command Center was at the end of this path located 1.6km deep inside. This was a place Ronan was familiar with; when the region was still called the United States of America, this base was built within the mountains to shield against any enemy nation’s nuclear attack. The facilities and system were no different from back then; there was anti-air intellgence used to watch over the North American region. After the war, it was merely a piece of junk when the surveillance satellites were separated from the radar network, and was relegated to as a place where the leftists’ soldiers were dealt with carefully. However, as it was not a place easily noticed, it became a place with some unique function over the years.
When Martha talked about the ‘secret way’, Ronan had already anticipated it to be this place. The wall of classified military information would not be of any use when dealing with her. He remained in the car, just like the journey before, and carelessly stared at the tunnel which could be said to be the relics of the old centuries. The hooded military electric car passed through the underground below the mountains, passed through the 25 ton blastproof door, and sent the contingent to the Anti-Air Command center.
They walked upon the uneven concrete path, was led through 3 layers of safety checks by their colleagues, and arrived at the desination. Ronan passed through the door leading into the only new place available, the space management center, and saw the exact same scene as the one he saw on the photo.
There were 6 large screens on the wall in the front, projecting the monitored conditions of the radars and the satellite surveillances. There were more than 20 of the each facing a terminal, “Mark 2, loading complete.” “Permitting the support ship “Chitose” to retreat from the firing line.” The men and women reporting in all looked anxious, and the atmosphere of an actual battle reached them naturally. Ronan heard the metal doors slam behind him, and looked around at this classified center, which he was not completely unfamiliar with. There were often Task Forces, authorized to deal with classified information, stationed here, working on their mission separately from the soldiers of the base management, which dealt with the leftists. The Cheyenne Base was dubbed as a relic of of the old era, but it was an image used to hide the existence here.
“The “System” is moving from behind “Luna II”.”
“Position controls begin. Self-rotation restrated, Gryoscope stabilized.”
“Reticule control, matching the guide laser’s path.”
The voices of the management pinged off the tall ceiling. That ‘thing’ seemed to have been activiated, and Ronan, who did not know how she controlled the situation, was unhappy that she had already begun with the preparations as he wanted to glare at the relaxed looking Martha. “Welcome to the Caucasus Forest” however, he heard this from behind, and turned back. A high ranking officer was standing at the commander’s seat at the back of the control room, elevated half a level higher.
“I’m Vice-Admiral Ables. We once had a chat with each other at a golf match on “Luna II”.”
“I remember. Looks like Miss Martha and I have a lot of mutal friends.”
He grabbed the outstretched hand, and again glared at Martha. On the surface, he was the base commander in chare of running the leftists’ graveyard, but he was in charge of a secret mission only a few amongst them knew of, and was an elite general full of ambition. It would be easy for Ronan to deduce that there was something going on between him and the vixens of the Senate Council that was relying on the authority of the Vist Foundation, but this was not the moment to be dragged down by that. “May you please hear the current situation?” Martha did not look at Ables, who greeted her with a stare, as she hurriedly prompted Ronan, and the latter looked back at the screens in the front.
“This is the surveillance information obtained from the Moon, so the details aren’t clear. However, it seems the “Sleeves” perimeter is being broken through. The battle’s still going on though, I can’t tell how it’s going to go.”
One of the screens showed a visual of space taken from the Moon’s surface. An amateur could not tell what was going on amidst the flashing lights mixed amidst the stars. “What about “Industrial 7”?” Martha asked.
“Currently, we’ve executed a spaceway control, and up till this point, there hasn’t been any ship moving in and out from the docks. It seems the colony builder there was not activated, probably because of the damage suffered during the terrorist attack.”
The image was switched, and the projected visual became that of the sealed colony that was undergoing construction. Every space colony should be all in the same shape, but this colony had a unique shape with one end connected to the colony builder, and one could tell it was the “Industrial 7” that made the headlines because of the terrorist attack. It was an industrial port, and logically, there would be ships moving around the clock, but there was definitely no space light to be seen near the port. The colony builder too remained silent, and its snail-likeexterior remained hidden in the Shoal space.
“Targetting is complete, and we will proceed into automatic-tracking. Considering the space debris left in the path of fire, we plan to fire at 50% outpiut.This is the first actual firing after repair, but there’s no issue with the activation. We can fire only at the colony builder while minimizing the impact on the colony to the minimum.”
Ables said, “That’s how it is, Chairman Ronan.” and Martha followed up. Ronan gulped.
“We just need your approval from now on. This will solve everything.”
There was a lot of burdensome work for the Settlement Issues Council and the Vist Foundation to deal with even after working together, whether it was to explain to the internal government, or the manipulating of the media; Martha’s expression however was coldly aloof. Ronan did not immediately answer as he stared at the “Industrial 7” in the image, “Surveillance satellite K7 has caught sight of the “system”.”at the same time, he heard the voice from the operator.
“Expand the visual.” Ables commanded. The middle screen showed the image of Earth taken at low orbit, its silhouette encased in the thin atmosphere, expanded in phases. As the sun began to shine behind Earth, the anti-glare filtered visual approached it, and there appeared a cylindrical object with the bright light in the expanded background.
This obect was orbiting in one of the Lagrange Points created between Earth and the Moon, the L3 resonance points, and when viewed from afar, was a common sealed colony just like “Industrial 7”. It was only half the size of an ordinary colony, but there was an abnormally large number of solar panels around it, and more intriguingly, there was an exposed, severed part at one end, exposing the inside hollow in space—this large barrel-like appearance obviously was not designed for human living. It was an abnormally shaped construct, a colony, and yet not one, 15km long, and more than 6km in diameter. It was…
“The colony laser “Gryps 2”, the ultimate weapon of destruction that uses the colony itself as a barrel.
Martha said. Ables glanced over at her face, but Ronan did not mind as he continued to stare at the screen.
“It’s infamous because of the internal conflicts after the war, but we’ve been secretly rebuilding it and integrating it into the fleet assembly plan…such great foresight, I must say. Did you assume this will happen?”
Martha’s stare at Ronan was full of derision, and the latter inadvertently glared back at her sidelong face, wanting to say something. “The “Nahel Argama” and the “Unicorn” have entered the Shoal Space region. However, he was interrupted by this, and could only remain silent.
“We’ve considered other strategies, but we can’t guarantee that we can stop them. Once we detect that either them or Neo Zeon will reach the “Box” first…”
There’ll be no other choice, her expression was stating this. If they used the colony laser, most of their issues would be settled. Ronan glanced his sweaty palms, and stared at the screen showing tis laser.
It was an unprecedented, said to be able to destroy entire colonies when fired at full output. The “Gryps 2” overlooked Ronan from hige above as the latter held its trigger, and pointed its large muzzle at the Shoal Space region containing “Industrial 7”—where the “Laplace Box” laid in slumber.
