Times have changed.
The year is UC 0001, the end of an era. The planet Earth is overpopulated, humankind's relentless expansion halted by the constraints of reality. People struggle to live on the face of the once empty planet, despair and destruction ravaging the surface. Even under a single government, that of the Earth Federation, mankind is locked in the endless cycle of violence.
Some people still find the courage to hope, to imagine and eventually to create, from their shackles, a new future. For mankind, their new future lies above.
Reaching out for the stars to escape the confusion and violence of Earth, mankind attempts to unite under a single banner as they step out of the protected cradle that is Earth. There is so much hope at the beginning; enthusiasm, interest, belief… For a moment, all mankind has quietened down like children to hear the words of those with authority, and a still harmony descends upon an earth waiting to ascend.
As the Earth Federation's President, Ricardo Marcenas, begins his speech announcing Earth's expansion to space, and his speech to celebrate the dawn of a new era, an explosion tears through the Island 2 Colony aboard which he is speaking. The moments quickly pass, and before the Earth can draw their breath, the first blood, and by no means the last, of the Universal Century era has been spilled.
The time passes. Death is not a thing of the past; even as they expand into the stars, mankind's pride and arrogance is not dispelled, instead carrying along with it the scourge of conflict and casting a dark shadow across mankind's expansion. No longer is it a thing of hope; conflict still exists, and by UC 0079, less than one hundred years after mankind began a new era, the lines have been drawn for yet another war. Those who ascended into the stars, overcome by ambition and jealousy, turn their gaze inwards, the promise of humanity's unity in their quest to the stars shot down alongside the Prinicpality of Zeon's declaration of war on the 3rd of January, UC 0079. Flags are flown, uniforms are donned. The promise of expansion denied to them, humanity turns once more on itself.
January 10th, Operation British.
January 15th, the Battle of Loum.
Within twelve days, four Sides of colonies have been gassed, and a continent has been turned into a flooded, cratered wasteland. The death and destruction is on a previously unparalleled scale, and the two sides attempt to reach peace. It is a fruitless gesture; it does not take long for the war to resume. On the 1st of March, UC 0079, the Principality of Zeon's Earth Attack Force launch the first of many orbital drops on the planet's surface itself in a bold move. The first strikes are all it takes to push the Federation back, and soon, as Zakus stride across the surface of Earth like the stuff of legends, the sight of their monoeye burned in every Federation soldier's mind like a curse, the Principality's victory seems assured.
By December, the tides have turned. The Earth Federation, having developed their own mobile suits under what has come to be known as Operation V, have taken back the Earth and swept through Zeon's space conquests. Now, their fortresses have fallen. Now, their armies are stretched thin; as the Earth Federation approaches, time is running out for Zeon.
The Side 3 Colonies, Early 0080
The dull roar of the shuttle's engines vibrated through the cabin, and outside, the faint glow of explosions lights up the darkness of space. The shuttle is among the last to leave; already, what little remains of the Zeon fleet fights a rearguard action as the shuttles move to a rendevous with the A Baoa Qu survivors. Hundreds of little specks dot the vast expanses of emptiness as the shuttles, carrying civillians and soldiers alike, leave their home, the site of their rebellion. Their leader is dead, their army defeated. Now, there is nothing but retreat for a cause that, all those years ago, seemed so very hopeful.
"The... The Ilium Bastion is sinking. We've lost contact with the 5th and 6th Patrol Flotillas..."
The co-pilot, listening to the radio, cursed and smashed his fist against the control panel. "Our escort's gone. How the hell are we going to get out of here?"
The pilot gritted his teeth and pushed the throttle; the ship slowly pushed itself forwards. As his co-pilot turned to him in shock, he muttered "We have to run the gauntlet." His face was pale, and his hands shaking, but his expression carried a tired, or even resigned, resolve. "There's no other way."
The co-pilot gulped, staring in shock for a moment, then turned away. "Y... yes, sir."
At the back of the shuttle, next to a badly wounded Zeon soldier, a woman sat clutching her head. Her dress was stained with tears, but she was no longer crying; instead, she clutched her child and choked back the tears as more explosions lit up the night sky.
"Your... your father. He's gone." she murmured to the child, who looked up at her, its face still radiant. "And now, I'm the only one left."
Outside, a group of Federation GMs roared through the sky. Behind them, a Musai was sinking, enveloped in flames; the lead pilot's bazooka had sheared through the ship's bridge, obliterating the entire ship's command structure in seconds. Out of control, it had veered into the range of the Federation fleet.
Looking around, the lead pilot finally spotted something, and turned his GM. "Over there." he said. "Surround it. We only need the package."
"Yes, sir."
On their shoulders sat a peculiar symbol, scratched by months of war; that of a wolf prowling around the moon. No Federation soldier would be able to identify it at a glance, but something about them lent weight to their authority.
The shuttle was quickly picking up speed, and the pilot felt a glimmer of hope. Without any respite, however, the GMs quickly approached them and the co-pilot turned to see them, gritting his teeth. "GMs to our..."
"I see them." was the pilot's flat response as he threw his ship into evasive maneouvres. A pair of beams shot by the shuttle as it turned away from the GMs projected course; however, they quickly followed, moving to envelop the escaping vessel. From the right, a Zaku's machine-gun fire arced past the GMs; however, as though in an afterthought, the lead GM, not even bothering to turn, placed a shot directly through the mobile suit's cockpit, passing by it as it exploded in a shower of heated metal.
"04, hit their right engine block. I'll move left and take them out."
"Yes, sir." One of the GMs stopped and raised its bullpup machine-gun; taking careful aim, it fired off one shot, which grazed against the shuttle's engine, sending it up in flames. The lead GM and two others had moved off in the other direction, their thrusters lighting up the sky as they moved to intercept the shuttle, which tried to take evasive action; however, with one of their thrusters gone, they could hardly move.
"Sir, the engine's gone. The enemy's moving to..."
"Activate the directional thrusters. Put the shuttle into a spin and make sure those bastards can't touch us."
"What's the point, sir?" asked the co-pilot, gritting his teeth. "They can still hit us..."
"Don't you see?" asked the pilot, under his breath. "If they wanted to kill us, they wouldn't have hit the engine, they'd have hit us. The Feds want us alive."
Looking out and seeing the GMs rocketing past them, carefully aiming their weapons, the woman murmured "This is our fault... my fault." Looking down at the child, she gave a choked sob. "I'm sorry. If it weren't for your parents' parents, you might have been able to stay alive. But I don't feel remorse... we had to do what we did. At least we tried."
The lead GM turned and looked through the window of the shuttle. Inside, the pilot's eyes narrowed, and he murmured "So he didn't take you with him."
Looking out at the GM, the woman quietly said "You won't get anything from me, or my son. Not if I have my way, and you can't stop me now."
Gritting his teeth, the pilot of the GM shook his head and said "I didn't want it to come to this." and raised his weapon.
The bazooka's rocket crumpled into the cockpit. In their feverish attempts to escape, the pilots didn't notice it; the last thing they saw was the round's ominous gleam as it crashed into their vessel. For a moment, it lay, as if dormant, but it quickly exploded, sending flames coursing through the fragile vessel. Outside, the GMs watched balefully as the shuttle erupted into crimson flames, breaking apart as the explosion tore at it from the inside.
The woman looked up and gave a quiet sob. "I thought..." As the people around her died, as the glow of the flames surrounded her, she clutched her head in agony. "At least... until the end..."
A few hours later, the One Year War ended. Only some would know about what had happened at A Baoa Qu that day, and fewer still would understand its significance.
UC 0096
Three years have passed since the Red Comet, Char, returned as the son of Zeon Daikun and led the Neo-Zeon forces against the Earth Federation in an attempt to wipe out the Earthnoids once and for all. Opposed by the Londo Bell Special Operations section of the Earth Federation Space Forces, Char's attempt to drop the asteroid Axis on Earth in order to create a nuclear winter was narrowly foiled by his eternal nemesis, the legendary ace pilot Amuro Rey, who gave his life to save the Earth, joined by the forces of Neo Zeon and the Earth Federation alike. Both Char and Amuro perished, but Axis was thrown away from the Earth's orbit, saving the Earth and supposedly ending the war between the Spacenoids and the Earthnoids.
But hope is a fickle thing. The Earth Federation uses its new position of superiority to suppress the few remnants of the Neo Zeon cause. Establishing 'Headhunter' groups to eliminate the last bastions of Neo Zeonic resistance, and expanding Londo Bell's independent operations capabilities, the Earth Federation swiftly moves to decapitate the Neo Zeonists before they can reform. The suppression is quick and bloody; the Neo Zeonic forces are quickly wiped out without remorse. Some remain, but they are the lucky few. The vast majority of those who fought under Char have been destroyed for their allegiances; the Earth Federation, despite the many wars that have been fought, are still determined to stop the spacenoid advance, to press the age-old superiority of the Earth's rule upon the colonies, using military force, deceit or anything else within their arsenal.
And yet forces are moving, as they have been for the past ninety-six years. Past the scope of the Earth Federation's ambition, past the seperatist ambitions of the remnants of Zeon's once mighty armies, there is a far greater power at play, one that has finally begun to rear its mighty head.
Some move with the times, others do not. Inevitably, one must win, however long it takes.
7th April, Side 4, Industrial 7
Docking Area 209
"Hey, over here! That container's for the shuttle." Waving over his comrade, the man floated across to the shuttle, encased in a white space suit. "And be careful; that thing's an antique."
"I know, I know." Floating over as well, the other man carefully loaded the food supplies container, trying not to graze the edges of the shuttle. Getting it in throught he narrow supply hatch, he sighed; he would have wiped his brow, but the suit didn't let him. Leaning back in the weightlessness instead, he turned to his comrade and asked "Where's our replacement team?"
"God knows. They're always late, aren't they?" Looking up at the bright strobe lights, he quickly lost himself in their glow, reminiscing about his family.
"Heh. Yeah, they are."
Not many people knew that Anaheim kept a worker training college at Industrial Seven; nevertheless, they did. It was a small institution, but every year, hundreds of students found their way into the prestigious establishment through the very rooms suspended at the far end of Industrial Seven. Today, the relatively well-known Professor Bancroft stood at one side of the classroom, facing a wall of bored and undoubtedly agitated students.
They were floating. The strange weightlessness was something he was used to, but nevertheless, after experiencing the gravity of a colony's surface, it felt unnatural.
Or free. One of the two.
"Hallbright?" The teacher's voice rang out through the room.
The vast expanses of space stretched out before him, and he could see, see through the veil of black, past the stars, and for a moment, he felt that he could fathom it, fathom it all, the darkest corners of space to the warmth of the glowing sun. All those emotions, thoughts... and all it took was just one glance into the blackness of outer space.
"Hallbright!" Frowning, the teacher watched as the named boy turned to look at him, and he sighed. "I asked you a question, Hallbright."
"Oh... I'm sorry... sir." He looked a little concerned, but more like he had been woken up from a dream of some sort.
Scratching his head and sighing, the teacher did. "What was Casval Daikun's ultimate objective in the Second Neo Zeon War?"
"Destabilisation of the Earth Federation... sir." It was a phrase he'd heard his uncle say quite a lot, and since it always came up in conversations about Char...
"See? If you listen, you can learn. All right..."
Back in the docking area, the two men were still waiting for their change of shift. Now genuinely irritated, one of the workers glanced down at his watch and gritted his teeth. There would be hell to raise...
"Come on, come on...!" A clatter echoed through the musty changing room, and one of the men cursed. "Why do these goddamn suits take so long to put on? We're going to be late again, we'll have to work an extra shift, and the boss'll give us hell again! And it's all because of this suit!"
"Are you kidding?" His partner was struggling as much as he was; his right hand pulling at the suit, he tried to move the emergency breathing supply away as he pulled. "If you hadn't been trying to chat up that..."
The door behind them opened, and without missing a beat, the man turned, saying "Boss, I'm sorry; we just can't get these..."
A few minutes passed. Eventually, the waiting was over, and the two exhausted dock workers, seeing their replacements emerge, left their position gratefully.
"She's all yours now. The supplies need checking, but everything else should be all right."
"Understood." came the response. "We'll get right on it."
"Great." By this time, neither of the outgoing two were listening, clambering onto the platforms gratefully; one had a wife, the other a hot meal. They weren't interested in their work; as they left, the replacement workers watched them go, then turned to do their jobs, turning towards the shuttle in front of them.
"We have two minutes." said one, and the other nodded. They had a job to do; they would only get one chance.
Not many Fed ships passed through Side 4 these days, and people never really noticed when they did, even when they were so close to the colonies. The two Salamis Kai ships were inconspicious, nothing to get excited about, and they quietly passed by Industrial Seven on one of their routine patrol runs, undisturbed.
The colony's bright, glowing lights pulsed through space, and flooded across everything in its immediate vicinity; in its day cycle, the sporadically green, overwhelmingly metallic colony was, nevertheless, a source of light in a sea of darkness. Somehow, regardless of the endless arrays of tangled wires and half-built end of the colony cyclinder, the huge structure brought a sort of calm over him... a bastion of humankind in the infinite reaches of space.
Not that he thought that, of course. The main relief came from the fact that the area wasn't officially Federation controlled; it meant that he could take life at his own preferred pace without the brass' boots kicking him in the rear every few minutes.
"Captain, we have a transmission coming in from Luna II... should we respond to it?"
"No."
"It seems relatively urgent; they're sending a warning signal."
"Wait for half a minute, and if they continue, then stick it on the main screen. Otherwise, I'll be damned if the Federation brass call me out of my rest period. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." The communications officer turned back to her station and, slouching back in the middle of the bridge and and looking mildly satisfied, the captain smiled and closed his eyes and rested. "Maintain patrol course. We'll be done in fifteen hours."
Captain Soushirou Shikijima was relatively well known around Luna II; he was a relatively miraculous character. Despite his apparent lack of motivation and skills, he had become a Captain in command of two vessels in a relatively short period of time, participating as a Londo Bell pilot in the Second Neo Zeon War before returning to the run-of-the-mill EFSF as an officer. The truth was, when he had joined up, Shikijima was a dedicated pilot, going to great lengths in the defense of Earth. Eventually, though, as the long shifts added up, as the patrol missions got longer and longer without any engagements, he lost interest. He had a family back on Earth, after all, and if he died because of his haste to do battle, he would die miserably. Therefore, he reasoned, it was better not to die at all.
"Luna II has stopped warning signals, sir."
"See? Keep on going."
"...Sir, we're getting sporadic warning signals from Luna II. I don't think they're stopping... the signal's weakening!"
The captain's brow furrowed, and he carefully sat up, the sleep still in his eyes but joined with a sense of wariness. "What? Check the Minovsky Particle cocnentration."
"Sir?"
"Just do it." By this time, he was glancing out of the viewports, looking for a threat.
"Yes, sir." The radio operator quickly leaned down and began checking, and the captain picked up his shipboard comms handset.
"Well?" he asked the radio operator. "What's going on?"
"The concentration, sir..."
"What?"
"It's 350 percent above normal. All external comms units failing, countermeasures are inactive, sir."
"Are you sure it's not a malfunction?"
"With all due respect, when was the last time our..."
"All right, activate the countermeasures. Do... whatever you need to do to send our signal off to headquarters."
"Sir, that'll give away our position."
"I don't think that's really an issue right now... argh." He leaned over, punched the shipboard comms button and said "Combat readiness level One. All crew to positions and pilots to mobile suits." Putting the handset down, he leaned back and looked over to his radar operator, who shrugged. Looking back into space, the Captain muttered "Probably just some Neo-Zeon remnants in the first place. Nothing too problematic."
"Three small objects, heading at high speed for the ship."
"Mobile Suits? Send out the Jegans..."
"No, sir. Missiles."
The Captain gritted his teeth. "Fire the CIWS. Take them down before they hit anything vital."
The gunnery officers quickly designated the targets and one shouted "Intercepting!" The dull roar of the guns shook the bridge ever so slightly, and soon after the arcs of bullet-fire disappeared into space, three bright explosions lit the sky up in a shower of light. There was no time to cheer, however; the radio operator quickly looked back down and shouted "Three more small objects... no, six!"
"Intercept them!" replied the Captain. "We, the Monterey, will remain in position as bait. We'll detach the Boston to find and destroy the enemy. Boston? Did you..."
"Yes, sir. Boston redeploying." The other Salamis peeled off from the Monterey, quickly deploying its motley assortment of Jegans and GM IIIs as it turned to present its front to the enemy, pushing its engines to full speed as it prepared to enter the debris field from which the enemy was firing.
"Three missiles confirmed, sir." continued the radar officer.
"Intercepting." came the quick response from Gunnery, and the dull whir of the guns started up again. "Gun no. 6, jammed. ETA ten seconds until refunctioning."
"What about the other three unknowns?" asked Shikijima, standing up. "Where are they?"
"They're..." The radar operator looked down at her screen, frowning, then, as the signals became clearer, she turned to the Captain, surprise written across her expression.
"Gunnery!" Shikijima gripped the cold metal edges of his seat tightly and said "Intercept mission, three fast moving targets, take them down."
"Intercept mission, three fast moving targets. Preparing main guns and CIWS."
"And deploy the Second Team." he added.
The Salamis floated, unmoving, for a split second. Then the guns began to turn, their long barrels gleaming ominously. "Port main guns, fire, fire, fire." The two guns glowed for a moment, then spat a pair of beams into the depths of space, cutting into the asteroid field. The ship shook for a moment, and the captain winced.
"Port main gun battery no. 2, fire, fire, fire." The Salamis fired another beam, and the gunnery officers watched as the three mobile suits broke formation, rocketing toward the Salamis. "Main guns, reacquire single target. Secondary and CIWS, provide disrupt barrage. Drive them into our lines of fire."
"Secondary guns, open fire!" The smaller weapons stations on the Salamis quickly began to fire off their own beams at the enemy mobile suits, who were forced to disperse as the beams cut across their line of advance. Then the CIWS opened up, and they were enveloped in fire, sitting prey for the Monterey's second vollery of main gunfire. The barrage lit up the port side of the Salamis as it cruised forwards, unleashing a hail of fire at the enemy mobile suits. One was hit by a secondary gun; reeling, its arm blown off, it was caught by one of the Salamis' main guns, which tore through its torso effortlessly, vaporising half of the MS in mere moments.
"Destroy them quickly, and move to support the Boston." said the captain, sitting back down.
"Sir, further radar signatures, three..."
"Where?"
"We've lost them, sir!"
The captain gritted his teeth; every moment this engagement continued, his group was at a disadvantage. With two Salamis vessels at his disposal and an unknown enemy fleet composition, he was at an obvious disadvantage. However, he sighed and sat back down. "The enemy are probably above us, in our radar blind spot. Inform EFSF headquarters that the Sleeves appear to know about this, and order the First and Second Teams to intercept the enemy before they hit the Monterey."
"Aye, sir. Establishing contact with Luna II headquarters..."
In front of the bridge, a pair of Jegan types emerged from the MS deck; the First team, equipped with another pair of Jegans, waited for their comrades to move out before deploying onto the deck themselves. "Monterey, this is Second Team, deploying." The blue Jegans quickly took off; their booster jet units erupting in a shower of blue, they shot into the depths of space, heading upwards in a desperate search for the enemy three-unit formation.
Echoes. Cries. Shouts of panic and howls of fury. There is utter confusion, a lack of order, a proliferation of death dealing machines.
He opened his eyes slowly. "Lares, Sonies; pull out and return to the mothership. I'll deal with these Feds."
"Sir?"
"Do it."
"But Major, your..."
"He doesn't care; anyways, you're in the ideal position to take out the other enemy vessel from behind. Hurry up and sink it before it finds our main force."
"Sir, will you be..."
Another voice cut across him. "Come on, Lares. The Major can handle himself."
"... As you wish, sir." The two mobiles uits turned and rocketed away, leaving one floating above the enemy Salamis. "Well, then..."
The pilot smiled. "I'll give you the reception you so desire." he said, with a slight laugh, and pushed up the throttle on his mobile suit. The grey monoeye unit rocketed forwards, plummetting down towards the Monterey.
"Oh, Christ, I found it." One of the Jegan pilot's eyes darted upwards, and his comrade's voice echoed through the cockpit.
"What did you say?"
"Over there, above us. The glint."
"You mean..." Then the glint changed direction, and the Jegan pilot, fumbling with his throttle, quickly pushed his suit forwards, followed by his teammate. "Monterey, this is second squad. We found him." The other two Jegans, waiting on the deck of the cruiser, looked up and raised their weapons.
"Oh? They've come out in force to meet me, have they?" The smile widened ever so slightly, and the mobile-suit slowly drew a beam saber from its forearm. "Let's do this, then." he muttered, and he increased his suit's speed.
"Incoming!" The Jegans aimed and opened fire, the yellow beams searing through space; they lanced towards the enemy's mobile suit, which spiralled neatly around them, sabre drawn; as one of the Jegans continued firing, the other stowed its rifle and moved forwards with its sabre, firing off the missiles from its shield. The grey mobile suit neatly dodged the missiles as they followed him, brushing against their smoke trails; continuing on, he ducked under the enemy Jegan's field of fire and swiped at its legs, only to be barely deflected by the Jegan's sabre; as their blades met, they crackled in a glow of pink and green. The Fed tried to crush the grey mobile suit's head with its shield; in a split second, the other pilot took the force of the Jegan's shield on its right shoulder and headbutted the Fed's cockpit, crushing part of the thick armour. The pilot, jarred, fell back, but the grey mobile suit followed with its beam sabre. The weapon sheared through the Jegan's cockpit, spearing it and emerging from the other side; the blue MS floated, unmoving, limp as the grey MS withdrew its green sabre.
"One down." the pilot muttered.
"Damn..." The other Jegan rocketed forwards, casting its rifle aside and drew its own sabre.
"Unit One, what are you doing?"
"Damn you Sleeves to...!" His wild charge had left his torso open, and the grey MS ducked down, raising its sabre. As the Jegan rocketed past, trying to alter its course, the beam sabre stabbed upwards into its head and continued on, shearing the MS in half and vaporising the pilot in moments. The two halves, still glowing, floated off, and one side exploded in a shower of flames as the propellant ignited. Looking down, the grey mobile suit's monoeye stared balefully down at the remaining Feds.
"That... that mobile suit..." murmured one of the MS pilots, standing on the MS deck of the Monterey. "It's the Striker."
"Goddamn Sleeves are all the same. Get 'im." The Jegans raised their rifles and peppered the area with their beams; the grey mobile suit just continued on, cutting an arc through the darkness of space as it gunned its powerful thrusters, its one eye staring impassivley at its enemies down below. "Take 'im down from up close." muttered the First Team's lead and rocketed upwards, drawing its beam sabre.
Wordlessly, the grey MS met the Jegan's blade. As they fought, the final Jegan followed its leader's suit, drawing its sabre and moving behind the grey MS. Raising his blade, the pilot of the second Jegan shouted "Rot in hell, Sleeve!" The pilot of the grey MS, trapped in a deadlock with the team leader, couldn't move, and the other Jegan brought its blade down on the enemy, meeting metal.
Blue metal. What?
The grey MS had moved out of the way at the last moment, and the Jegan had sheared through the cockpit of its team leader. Before the pilot could react, the grey MS stowed its own beam sabre; then, grasping the Jegan's head with its left manipulators and tearing its beam sabre away, the grey MS rocketed down towards the Monterey. Cracks appeared in the Jegan's visor as the grey MS' grip tightened, and the pilot slowly began to fade out.
"Neo-Zeon are using bodyshields now? Those filth... how dare they." muttered Shikijima. "How's the Boston doing?"
"We've lost contact, sir."
"... We're on our own. We... we can't afford to relent; shoot down the enemy MS and Unit 02. Now."
"Sir, its too late...!"
"What?"
The Jegan's head was crushed against the MS deck as the grey MS pushed forwards; the Fed pilot had already been knocked out by the high speed at which his suit had hit the Monterey's deck. Raising the Jegan's beam sabre, the grey mobile suit looked up at the ship's bridge and stared emotionlessly for a moment before ducking back down.
He only saw through the enemy's plan too late. "You... you can't... that's..."
"There are no rules, anymore." muttered the pilot, and stabbed the Jegan's sabre into its thermonuclear reactor. As the grey MS quickly jumped off the Monterey, the Jegan's reactor, its I-Field stabilisation gone, overloaded and the MS exploded, tearing apart the Monterey in a shower of flame and metal. The explosion sparked off a chain reaction through the ship's missile bays, sending flames running down the ship's walkways.
"Blocks 3,4, 5, fire extinguishing active. Hull damage sustained." The alarms were blaring, and the automated response system's metallic voive echoed through the bridge.
"Captain?" The crew looked up to their commanding officer, whose head was sunk in his hands.
"Abandon ship." he eventually said. The bridge crew nodded and began to leave; the gunnery chief turned to see the captain moving to the steering station.
"Sir?" he asked. "What are you doing?"
"They say the captain goes down with his ship, don't they? I'll buy you time; take the shuttles."
"Sir, don't you have a family?"
"Tell them I went down bravely." He stepepd forwards, grasping the wheel and hesitantly breathed in. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."
"Don't be an idiot, sir." said the gunnery chief, grabbing the Captain's arm and dragging him away from the wheel. "You did everything you could. I'm happy to be serving under you, and I'm going to keep it that way. Come on." They left the bridge, and moments later, the electricity cut out. The shuttles drifted away from the darkened ship, and soon, it was torn apart as the flames reached the fuel storage.
All the inhabitants of Side 4 saw was a tiny flash. Nothing more.
Surveying the results of the battle, the pilot of the grey MS grimaced, his head aching, and turned to leave. The sooner they were done with this place, the better.
"Area safe." he murmured.
"Roger that, Major." came the response and the grey MS turned to leave, disappearing into the bleak expanses of space, leaving the dull grey outlines of wreckage and war behind him. He wouldn't let it get to him; after all, it wouldn't be the last time today.
The students had been told to take a break after two hours of lecturing. With relief, they had piled into the elevators, fatigued; most of them didn't really care about much else than getting something to eat and drink.
"Argh... I don't want to go through another two days of Bancroft's lectures. I mean, if I can sum up everything between the One Year War and Char's return, why can't he?"
"You're just showing off again, Takuya."
"Well... it's not really..." He eventually settled for rolling his eyes and, slightly glum, looked out of the elevator at the array of memorabilia lined up in the long museum-like hall. "Why do you think the shuttle's broken?"
"It always breaks."
"I mean, why don't we get a new one?"
"The school chief's stingy, and Anaheim doesn't have money to spend on students, does it?"
"Don't they want us to learn?"
"We'll learn from Bancroft's lectures. It'll just be really, really boring."
"Hah. Tell me about it." Takuya lowered his head and sighed. "Two more days... of nothing happening." Nobody responded, and he added "What about that... what was it? Exchange student? He's a little quiet, isn't he?"
There was no response.
"Still, he looks like he's hiding something. It's not every day Anaheim sends over a student from Von Braun, is it? I might ask him if I have the time."
"... I'm here, if you want?" Takuya turned in surprise; in front of him, the exchange student looked at him questioningly, and he went red.
He looked a little foreign.
"Oh... urm..." Stepping away, embarassed, he scratched his head and laughed uncertainly. The exchange student looked at him for a moment, then went back to looking at the wall.
"So... why are you here?" Takuya had worked up the courage to ask the question, but the exchange student didn't reply. There was a dull moment of silence, but as they passed yet another display of uniforms, the student replied "I don't know. They've never sent me away from Von Braun before."
"Oh... so this is your first time on Industrial 7?"
"I've never really left Von Braun; I guess this is my first time on Industrial."
"How are you enjoying it?"
"It feels different. I'm in a tube, not a bubble." Takuya smiled, but the exchange student wasn't laughing, and it quickly faded away. As quickly as it had begun, the conversation had ended, but another voice spoke up.
"What's your name?"
"Isn't it Hallbright?" asked a girl standing nearby. "I'm Micott."
The exchange student looked thoughtful for a moment, and he looked up. "I'm Cenan. Not Hallbright."
"Oh... right."
"Why not Hallbright?" asked the girl.
"Almost everyone I know calls me by my last name. It's... detached. It doesn't feel right." The elevator descended into silence, and Cenan sighed. "Sorry. I'm hard to talk to, I know. I don't really meet new people often."
"No, it's..." Micott was cut off by a hand extended in front of her.
"Nice to meet you, Cenan. I'm Takuya; we'll get along, I'm sure." The hand extended to him didn't waver, and the exchange student looked up in surprise. A hand, in front of him... was that friendship?
Then a shy smile spread out across his face, and he took the hand, shaking it. "Thanks."
So this was Industrial Seven. Turning back to the wall, he smiled. He would have to go back to the impersonal environs of Von Braun soon; he'd enjoy the little time he had here.
Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, he saw a flash of light, and something flashed through his head. Wincing, he looked out at it in shocked surprise; something had just...
"Cenan? Are you all right?" asked Takuya, now worried about his new friend.
"... No. I'm fine, thanks. Just a little tired." He shook his head. He'd probably worked too hard last night; he would have to start sleeping properly. Yawning forcibly, he quickly forgot about the flash of light and turned away from space.
"I wouldn't be surprised." said Micott. "You came directly from the moon, and our cycles are a few hours apart. Don't push yourself too hard; there's a lot going on over the next few days."
"I... haven't really heard about what we're doing next."
"Well..." remarked Takuya, thoughtfully. "We were suppsoed to visit the Snail, but now, we're stuck on the college because the transit shuttle's broken. I don't think anyone knows, really."
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"The Snail."
"Oh, right, you're new. I forgot. How do I explain this...?"
"The Snail is a construction unit, used to build the external shell structure of Industrial Seven." said Micott; she looked away and added "So much for the person who can sum up everything between the One Year War and Char's return."
"..." Takuya was wordless, but eventually, Micott laughed, follwed by the others on the elevator. Even Cenan smiled ever so slightly and Takuya sighed. "All right, all right, I lose." Looking outside, however, his glum face suddenly brightened. "Hey, Cenan, just keep on looking..."
The elevator shot into a tunnel, and for a split second, darkness obscured his eyes. Then the elevator emerged, and as he looked out, his eyes widened.
Outside, there was an entire colony. The huge cylinder, gently rotating, surrounded by rings of construction areas and solar panels, lights, ships...
"It's... amazing." was all he could say, breathtaken. He had slept through the shuttle rides to the colony, so he'd never seen it from the outside before; it shone like one of the stars he looked up at so often. Alone in space, the great structure, still being built, was an industrial hub, an outpost of humanity in space's cold reaches... but beyond that, it was a home to thousands. It was a staggering thought for someone who'd only ever lived on the moon, and Cenan's eyes were wide.
"That's Industrial Seven." remarked Takuya. "I guess it'd be surprising for somebody who's never left the Moon..."
And it was. For that one moment, Cenan basked in the joy of mankinds seemingly limitless exploits.
But exploits require ambition. Ambition requires pride, and pride leads to arrogance. Innocent dreams aside, humanity had, ironically enough, been split into two ever since people first began to ascend into space. And however thorough the defeats, however tragic the consquences, the war hadn't ended yet.
One path to victory remained. And that path would not allow for peace.
Space was a deep and dark place, unknown to most. Out of sight, out of mind, near Industrial Seven, a small group of vessels cruised towards the great colony, the sun gleaming off their hulls.
"Identification requested."
"Override command Bellerophon 256, 922."
There was a hushed silence, and then the response rang out through the ship. "Override accepted; regional administration has not been notified. Please proceed as desired, and have a good day." The voice quickly cut off, and silence reigned.
The Ra Calumnis' bridge area was a well kept one; as befitted one of the greatest battleships in the modern day EFSF, it was a well disciplined and commanded vessel, living up to the highest standards of the Earth Federation Forces' ideals; the floor gleamed, the stations were manned, and not a moan of complaint could be heard. It was the perfect warship, experienced in war, and yet orderly and disciplined nonetheless. In the captain's seat, a man sat, his narrow eyes carefully watching the horizon. The sun was rising, and the rays of light gleamed as they reflected off the solar panels of Industrial Seven, highlighting the walls as they were slowly consctructed. As he looked on, his face slowly contorted into an expression of slight regret. "I still feel uncomfortable about this whole operation. Something seems far too quiet."
"If it's the Sleeves, sir, they're not in a position to attack after Operation Tyr. You're worrying too much about a simple operation."
"And you're not worrying at all, Captain Mirian." remarked the captain, who went back to looking out towards space. "If the Earth Federation Forces headquarters back on Earth sends a special forces group to babysit, there's going to be a catch."
The captain smiled. Having just reached his twenties, his already considerable self- confidence had been reinforced; after a few weeks on the front, he had been transferred to the unit; it didn't take long for the fleet commander, Colonel Icarus, to put him forward for promotion and command of the fleet's mobile suit complement. Since then, he'd already gone through Operation Tyr, the Earth Federation's Londo Bell led offensive against the pocket of Zeonists operating from the ruins of Zedan's Gate; there hadn't been a Zeon soldier who'd seen the lieutenant's white Jegan darting across the battlefield. The Earth Federation's brass had given him a medal and used him as a propaganda tool for a few days; then, he'd been given a newer, better MS and cast back into the battlefield. Nobody knew where he'd gone, and nobody really cared.
But that was fine. The battlefield was where he shone, and he didn't need others to care.
"There may be a catch, Colonel." he replied. "But that's why we're here."
The colonel simply smiled.
The elevator took a while, but it finally reached the destination floor. Takuya rushed out of the cabin, his eyes fixed on something; curious, the others piled out to see exactly what had put him into such a frenzy. Cenan wasn't that eager to pry into someone's personal interests, but he floated out of the cabin nevertheless; there was no point in lagging behind. A few people had gone over to Takuya, but most of the students had already gone onto the walkway leading to the mess hall.
And then, behind Takuya, he saw it. Towering over them all, its eye stared balefully at them; a reminder of the past? He remembered that eye; he'd seen it in old photos of the One Year War, back in Von Braun. The Zaku, only this time, it wasn't spraying gunfire across space, or crashing into other suits with suicidal rage. It was restrained to the wall, and a gaping hole had been opened in its cockpit. This was... war? He'd seen mobile suits before, but they were all new products, shining and gleaming. Seeing something so old, so decrepit seemed so much more...
"Cenan?" His eyes focused back into reality, and he saw Takuya floating in front of him, looking slightly curious. "Did I disturb you?"
"... No. Sorry, I just floated off... somewhere."
"Space does that to you sometimes, doesn't it?"
"Oh... well..."
"Everybody's gone off to the mess halll, and I'm feeling just a little hungry. Do you want to go grab a bite to eat, or..."
"Let's do that." said Cenan, with a nod, and he quickly floated over to the walkway. As he was pulled along by the handle, however, he took one last look at the Zaku.
It returned the stare, and Cenan turned away, his expression still slightly concerned. What had happened to him? Headaches, daydreams... things like that had never happened before.
And still, the hole in the cockpit continued to haunt him. Something about it...
"Actually, I... just need to take a breather." he told Takuya, spotting a bathroom. "I'll catch up with you later." With that, he hurled himself over the side of the walkway, floating towards the bathroom, leaving Takuya to shout "Cenan? What do you mean...?" after him.
He stumbled into the bathroom and crumpled against the wall, breathing hard. The headache was finally receding, and he took a moment to rest, his breathing slowly becoming normal. He looked into the mirror; his face was slightly pale, and he floated forwards to a sink, turning on the water. It spat the water out, and he caught it in his hands, pressing it against his face. Feeling the cool water was a relief, and he quickly shut off the water, reaching out for a towel.
"Here." he heard someone say, and felt a towel being proffered to him. With a rushed "Thank you.", he took the towel and dried his face, handing it back to its owner and turning to look at the person.
It was no normal meeting. In a bathroom, on an observation tower leading onto a colony... not many people got to know each other in such empty, obscure places. But there was one fact that really took Cenan by surprise; what little he knew about society told him that something was wrong.
"Oh... um... this is the mens' bathroom." he said, pointing out the sign.
"I understand." came the response.
"You're... not a man." he offered, taken aback.
"Neither are you, by the looks of it."
She was his age, maybe a little younger. Her eyes were a piercing blue-green, and he felt slightly embarassed as he tried to talk to her. Eventually, however, he shook his head.
"No, I'm not. But that doesn't explain what you're doing here?"
"I'm new?" offered the girl.
Was she?
"Oh, right. So... am I, I guess." answered Cenan. "But do you honestly expect me to believe that you didn't understand the difference between the mens' and womens'..."
"I never asked you to. If you really want to know, I heard a commotion in here, so I came to see if everything was all right and you..." She gestured to the sink. "... were there."
Cenan's face flushed, and his gaze fell to the floor. "Was I... that loud?"
"You were."
His face flushed even more.
"Sorry."
"It's not a problem." replied the girl, looking around. She hastily added "But, if you're really feeling sorry, let me tag along with you. I'm a little lost, so I need some help getting around."
Cenan shook his head. "I'm new too. You won't get much help from me."
"Better two than one, though." replied the girl. Cenan could only shrug as she added "Honestly, though, I'm better off sticking with someone, and if you're new, the same should apply to you."
"I'm... fine with that." replied Cenan.
"Then what are you waiting for?" asked the girl.
"... Who are you?"
"I'm new. The rest is a secret." She frowned ever so slightly, as if recalling something; Cenan didn't notice. "Is there anything else?"
"... Nothing." replied Cenan, and he stepped away from the sink. "Do you have a name I should call you?"
She looked up for a moment, then turned back to Cenan and replied "Call me Fian." Cenan looked slightly suspicious, and she frowned in return; "Why the suspicion?" she asked.
"It sounds... quite feminine."
"I didn't have a choice."
"Oh..." He caught himself before he said anymore, and, embarassed, he quietly remarked "I don't know why I said that out loud. Sorry."
"You should be." she said, with a slight, almost uncharacteristic smile. "But that gives you more of a reason to help me out, doesn't it?"
He nodded. "All right, follow me. If we get lost... well, I warned you, didn't I?" Having said that, he then left the bathroom, followed by a girl he'd never met before. Quickly jumping onto the walkway, he grabbed the handle and watched as she pulled herself up onto the platform as well. Starting to move towards the mess hall, Cenan glanced over at the window to his left.
"You're quite shy, aren't you?"
"...Sorry, what did you say? I didn't... catch that." He turned around; not expecting a conversation, Cenan hadn't been listening. He didn't feel comfortable around people he didn't know, and her outspoken character didn't really help either.
"You're shy." She looked slightly amused, and Cenan frowned ever so slightly, his usually blank expression replaced by consternation as he looked away. He didn't say anything, and Fian watched him for a moment.
He felt something against his shoulder, and turned to see her punching his shoulder lightly. "Relax." she said. "I didn't mean it in an offensive way."
"I..." In the face of reason, Cenan felt his anger fading away, and he quietly said "I know. It's just me, sorry."
"Why apologise? It's not your fault."
"I..."
"Shh." She hushed him, and pointed out towards space. "What do you think's over there?"
He looked over wordlessly, confused. "Wha..."
"I don't know. This is Industrial Seven, right... which makes this Side 4. What direction is that? I can't see the Earth..."
Cenan didn't understand what she was talking about; he quietly added "Isn't that the moon, over there? The Earth's close by, I can see the light."
"The moon? Where?" She leaned forwards, straining to see, and Cenan pointed towards it. "That? Really?"
"Really." He felt slightly surprised; her expression was one of curiosity, towards something so... common. It was as though she longed for it, and he felt a little warmer inside, knowing that the moon wasn't as mundane as he thought it was.
"I've never actually been to the moon..." she remarked, slightly wistfully. Her gaze had travelled slightly downwards, and Cenan, worrying that he had offended her somehow, quickly rushed to rectify his mistake.
"It's not that exciting, don't worry. I'm so..." He caught himself before he apologised.
"So you've been there?" she asked him, looking back up towards the cratered sphere in front of them, in the distance.
"I live on the moon." By now, he was looking off towards the moon as well; the gleam caught his eye, and he felt captivated; from far away, it looked so different. It was hard to imagine that he lived in one of the flickering lights on its pockmarked surface... after all, it had all looked so big from the city itself.
"Where? Isn't it strange?" She was intrigued, and Cenan felt the warmth again. He had never looked at it that way. Was Von Braun city... strange? It had cars, buildings, factories, not to mention the huge Anaheim towers, the rock pillars, the pure, white lights...
"Von Braun... I don't know, really. I've never really left the moon. It's big, white... clean..."
And he talked. He'd never talked so openly with someone, but since coming to the colony, he'd felt a new sense of freedom, and with that came an itching desire to know others.
"You make it sound boring."
"It is." he abruptly replied. What else was there to say?
"I've always thought of the moon as an exotic place." she said. "It's always on the edge of your sight, but you can't really reach it." Before Cenan could interrupt again, she continued, saying "I... I've lived on a colony for most of my life, really; I don't remember a time when I didn't. The space colonies tend to be boring; they're all grey, and nothing ever changes."
"You make it all sound just as bad as the moon." remarked Cenan, slightly glumly.
"You know what they say." she replied, smiling. "The grass is always greener on the other side."
"..." Cenan didn't reply.
"Are you... all right?" asked Fian, turning to look at Cenan.
"... Oh, right. Sorry. I'd never heard that expression before."
"It's an Earthnoid thing... at least, I think so. I was born out on the colonies. How about you?"
Cenan looked off into the distance. Nobody had ever really asked him before, and he wasn't sure about where to start. "I'm an orphan." he unsteadily remarked, and Fian held her breath.
"I... had no idea. Sorry."
"Why?" asked Cenan, throwing a puzzled glance at her.
"Why? I don't... isn't it slightly traumatic, or tragic? I mean..." She caught herself, then added "I guess I'm just making it worse."
Still puzzled, Cenan shrugged. "Nothing's worse. I feel better, being able to tell someone about the things I've kept to myself. If you don't want to listen, just tell me. I'm fine either way."
Surprised by his sudden outburst, she looked at him for a moment. Cenan, without really noticing, continued speaking.
"My father was a pilot in the EFSF." said Cenan. "He died in the Gryps Conflict... I was quite young back then, so I don't remember much."
"The... EFSF?"
"I think so. My uncle tells me that he stayed with the Federation throughout the war, despite the Titans."
"So you have an uncle." Fian pointed out.
"He takes care of me instead." replied Cenan, with a slight nod. "To be honest, I can't remember a time when he didn't."
"What's he like?" asked Fian, her subdued look replaced by genuine interest.
"What's he... like? I don't know... a stuffed turkey?" Cenan was slightly confused, and Fian sighed.
"What kind of a person is he?"
"Oh... right. Sorry... I..."
"Well?"
"He's a little plump. He laughs, jokes, acts pompous... he's kind. Sometimes, he thinks he's out of my sight, and that's when i see him look away into the distance, as though he's remembering something... he never talks about my father, but I think he misses him more than he ever lets on."
Fian nodded. "I... guess I know what you're talking about."
"Really?"
"I had a family, once. Sometimes, they were like that. Once in a..." She suddenly stopped, and Cenan looked up.
"... and?" he asked. Outside, the stars gleamed, and time seemed to stop as they looked at each other.
"It's the past." she replied, shaking her head and looking away. "I don't want to talk about it... I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place."
He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and turned away, nodding. Silence reigned, and the two didn't speak to each other afterwards; Cenan's eagerness to talk was quickly supplanted by his timidity, and next to him, Fian, caught up in her own conflicting thoughts, didn't talk. The odd person would pass opposite them on the other walkway, but apart from that, only the dull hum of the lights accompanied them.
"We're here."
"... Sorry?" Fian looked up, and saw a door in front of them.
"This is the mess hall." Cenan stepped forwards to the door, and pushed it open, turning to her. "I don't really know what you're looking for, but this is where everyone is."
"Oh, right." She stepped forwards, floating for a moment, then turned to Cenan with a slight smile. "Thanks."
"No... problem." he replied, returning the gesture. She passed through the doorway, and Cenan stepped through as well, closing it behind him.
"Cenan!" came the exclamation, and he turned to see Takuya drifting over towards him. "So this is where you were?"
"... Sorry." he replied. "I was caught up."
"Don't worry!" came the reply. "Ever the thoughtful friend, I saved you a place and a meal. Come on; we were waiting for you."
Startled by the gesture, Cenan could only give a stuttered "Th... thanks?" before he was dragged off by Takuya. He looked around; Fian was already nowhere to be found. Shaking his head and sighing, Cenan turned back to Takuya. As he got to the table, Micott looked at him and asked "Cenan, where have you been? We thought you'd never come!"
"I was... in the bathroom." he replied, slightly meekly.
"You could have told us... right, Banagher?" asked Micott, turning to the person sitting next to her.
"I guess so..." he replied, slightly weakly, and Micott gave a sigh and looked away.
"Everyone's so quiet around here..." Takuya laughed, and Cenan looked down towards his meal. A once in a lifetime encounter?
He was thinking too much; it was more of a random thing. He'd never see her again, most likely. With a sigh, he picked up his sandwich and dug in.
The traffic coming in today was quite slow. Inside the colony's traffic administration centre, a hanfdul of men sat in their seats, bored out of their minds; a lucky few had coffee, others had magazines, but the on-duty man, without anything to entertainment, sat in the corner complaining. "Don't you think they should make our rest breaks longer or what?"
There was no response. "Guys?"
Still nothing. "Come on, guys, don't give up on me..."
"Guys, what do you..."
He was interrupted by a gruff voice. "Do your goddamn work and leave us the hell alone. I want to enjoy my book without your moans in the background."
"But sir..."
"No buts, shut up and let me read in peace." The man went back to reading, and the unlucky on-shift man quietly muttered "It's probably just another crappy romance novel."
"You got problems with that?" asked the man.
"No... oh?" Quickly pulling on his headphones, the on-shifter flicked on a couple of buttons, raised the volume of his microphone and said "Unidentified vessel, you are approaching the Administrative Area of the Industrial Seven colony, Side 4. Please provide identification and statement of intent." Listening in to the headphone, the on-shifter raised an eye as he typed in the details onto his computer, eventually signing off with an "Of course, sir. Enjoy your stay." He turned off the headphones, pulled them off and, tapping a button on his keyboard, said "Take a good look, boys; the Feds are sending their patrol fleets into the colony for once." The comment was reason enough for all the men inside the centre to look up as, before their eyes, a Fed warship cruised into sight, slowing down and running along the guidance beacons into the colony's docking bay.
"Into the colony?" one of the men asked. "When was the last time they did that?"
"I have no idea." came another response. "God knows what they'd want here anyways. Probably just a supply stop."
"I dunno." he replied. "I mean, don't the patrol fleets stock up on enough supplies for an entire patrol before returning to base?"
"Look at the ship." remarked one of the other men. "It's bruised and battered; probably got into a fight with some Neo-Zeonists and lost supplies in the process; came to us to get it. Makes sense, doesn't it? It's nothing to worry about, anyways; they know better than to wage war in a colony, and they won't be long after they realise we can't help with their problems."
In the distance, the stars shimmered.
Docked inside a private hangar, hidden away from the outside world and the rest of the colony inside which it rested, the Ra Calumnis was cloaked in darkness as they listened from their metal bulwark, waiting for anything of interest to come through. As the other Earth Federation ship docked with the colony, Colonel Icarus couldn't help but grimace as he looked over the radio channels being used by the vessel on the chart by his seat. It seemed that their time was quickly running out; looking over to his second in command, Montague, he threw a glance towards the colony and said "They're here. We need to move quickly." The lieutenant simply nodded and pulled on his coat,slipping his pistol into its holster as he reached for a bag by him.
"The rendevous points remain unchanged, I take it?" he asked.
"They do." replied the Colonel, gesturing towards the ship. "We have support ready if you need it; hopefully, we'll be able to deal with things without too much commotion."
"Absolutely, sir." The lieutenant gave a curt nod and walked over towards the airlock, pausing for a moment before turning and saying "I'll see you on the other side."
The Colonel laughed. "Don't worry about that. Good luck." Without another second glance, Montague left the ship, followed by his small team. As they made their way into the colony, Icarus let his head sink into his hands; he remained nochalant in front of his crew, but the truth was that Lhasa had bet a lot on this operation; it would either be their victory, or their undoing.
Further away from Industrial Seven, of the borders of the Side 4 cluster, there was an asteroid field. Better described as a debris field, it was said that the field was made up of the remnants of the Battle of Solomon, with inactive defense asteroids eventually winding up as an independent field with its own orbit around the sun. It was never traversed, of course; to the inhabitants of Side Four, it was just a minor inconvenience with some historical connotations. Some historians would turn up once in a while offering lucrative contracts to assist their research of the area, but every since the A Baoa Qu debris had been opened up, their numbers had thinned out until the only visitors to the area were foolhardy tourists willing to risk their lives to see the remains of the great battle; there weren't many of them, predictably.
Some called them the spacenoids, others called them Neo-Zeonists. Others had even taken to calling them Sleeves. Whatever the Earthnoids' opinion, they still considered themselves to be born and bred children of the Principality. They had upheld their beliefs for a long time; some fought in the One Year War, whilst others were born into the tradition. A long time had passed since 0079, but the pride of Zeon was still strong. Their pride, however, was not enough; after Char's Uprising and the subsequent headhunting of all Zeon loyalists, the world had reverted to a Gryps Conflict-like state, with the Earth Federation brutally suppressing all forms of spacenoid independence. Regardless of the dangers, however, and of the loss of so many men and women three years ago, there were still those who dared to work for Zeon's return in 0096. The Earth Federation knew them collectively as the Sleeves; it was a testament to their ignorance. After all, the Sleeves were only one part of the Zeonist movement; they certainly weren't the only major one.
"Graf Ascion." The man on the screen nodded towards the man sitting in front of him. "I was not aware that you were making an appearance here."
"Whatever happened to your predictive abilities, Full Frontal?" came the reply. "Or have your lauded skills rusted away under the shadow of inactivity?"
The reply was a curt laugh. "I've been doing a lot myself. What brings you out of the shadows today, then?"
"It's not a matter that will interest you." replied the Graf, sitting back and glancing at the crew members aboard the ship's deck.
"An abrupt refusal. I see; I take it, then, that you will not be needing any aid during your stay here?"
"I don't think so. As long as you know I'm here, and don't interfere."
"I see. All right, Graf Ascion; perhaps we'll meet again at a later date."
"Perhaps." replied Graf Ascion, and the screen cut off. As soon as the screen was moved away, a uniformed man bearing the insignia of a captain stepped forwards of Graf Ascion's side and quietly spoke.
"Sir, the Major wishes to speak with you for a moment."
"As expected, I suppose. Let him in." The captain nodded, then turned to open the door, saluting as the major entered the room. He was relatively slender, with grey hair of a moderate length and a clean, well kept uniform. Looking over at the major, Graf Ascion simply looked away and asked "Is there anything you require, Major?"
"I believe there is a matter that has not come to your attention."
"It has, and I do not care. I refuse to spend time and resources for something of so little value."
"But..."
"I suggest you leave, Major. We are currently in the middle of an operation, and the bridge is not your combat station, as far as I'm aware." Graf Ascion turned away, his expression disinterested, and the major looked away, bitter.
"Yes, sir."
His boots echoed through the bridge as he turned and left.
Inside the port, the Federation warship had just finished docking, and as the supply lines were extended, a group of people, dressed in their uniforms, floated down from the ship, towards the ledge upon which a group of port authorities waited with suspicion across their faces; the Fed's reaction to the 0093 war hadn't endeared them to the colonists, and three years hadn't done much to soothe the scars after the reports of Spacenoid oppression began to come in. As the Federation personnel approached, the man at the front, presumably the senior authority, stepped forwards, looking at the man with the highest rank badge in the delegation, and, with a glance towards their vessel, said "I'm sorry, but Fed or not, we need identification." One of the Federation soldiers to the side frowned as he heard the man speak.
"That's not what the law says, actually." he said. "I don't see how the colonists can even pretend to hold jurisdiction over the people who do the bloody work for them."
One of the port authorities angrily stepped forwards, muttering "This is our home. It's not another one of your battlefields; we never asked you to come and start wars. It's not our hard work you're doing, it's your own, but each and every time there's a war, we're the ones who suffer."
"How dare..." The Federation soldier tried to step forwards, but his superior officer stopped him with one hand and drew a card out of his jacket. As he flipped it over to show it to the authorities, who looked at it with undisguised surprise, he looked over them.
"I take it this is satisfactory?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow.
"Y... yes." the chief authority managed. "And... may I ask why you're here?"
The officer thought for a moment before replying "Private business." Without waiting for a response, he stepped past the men, his own troops following closely as they headed into the colony.
Inside his ship, Graf Ascion smiled as the colony came into view. His hands, aged, passed over the cold, white leather of his seat and he sat back. Time had passed since then, but now, now everything had come together. Finally, they... no, he would have what he desired, at long last. And by the time the Earth Federation pulled together, it would be too late.
Cenan felt something flash through his head; with a sudden jerk of his head, he looked up, outside, towards open space and the sun. "Hey, Cenan, what do you..." Takuya looked over at Cenan, whose green eyes were looking outside the colony in surprise."Cenan?" he asked. "Are you all right?"
"I..." Suddenly realising what he was doing, he shook his head and nodded. "Yeah. I'm... all right."
But something told him that things were different, that things weren't as they should be.
And they weren't. Soon, things would change in a way that only a handful of people would have known beforehand, and the clock hands of fate would inch forwards once more as the ghosts of the past returned to haunt the present.