After-Colony 210:
The end of the "Eve War" of After-Colony 195 and the subsequent Christmas Revolt of After-Colony 196 ushered in an era of prosperity and peace for the Earth Sphere United Nation. With their social and political differences put aside, Earth and her colonies entered into a golden age of cultural and economic growth.
Over the fourteen years since the end of armed conflict on Earth, the Mars colony project expanded considerably, as individuals from the ESUN set out in search of a new frontier.
It seemed as if mankind had finally beaten the last of its swords into plowshares...
One: Tintagel, Fortress on the Edge of Mankind
It was easy to forget how massive the Asteroid Belt truly was. Even in an era where awareness of the scope and vastness of the solar system was commonplace, people tended to imagine the aborted planet as an impenetrable barrier of rock. In truth, distances between asteroids were so vast that one could pass completely through the belt without seeing so much as a single lonely stone floating through the gulf of outer space.
A person might hide anything in such outrageous vastness. And so they had.
"This is shuttlecraft Thunderbird on tight-beam signal to Space Fortress Tintagel, requesting docking clearance. Come in, Tintagel." As the small high-speed shuttle approached, the massive asteroid loomed out of the darkness of space before it.
"This is Tintagel, you are cleared for landing at docking port L, Thunderbird, go ahead."
Tintagel had originally been marked as a mining orbital asteroid over two decades prior to the Eve War. The asteroid had been rich in valuable metals and highly stable, making it perfect for mining. However, the project's investors had balked at the idea of moving such a massive asteroid close to the Earth—the risk and the expense were simply too great.
One investor had had a different idea.
As the Thunderbird touched down in the docking bay, the hangar doors closed behind it with an audible hiss. The exit hatch of the shuttle opened, and a solitary figure stepped out onto the deck. He waited for the tell-tale rush of oxygen against his space-suit, and then removed his helmet.
Swan Zeig was a tall and broad-shouldered man, brown-eyed and brown-haired, shot through with gray. His body was trim and fit despite his age, and his movements were sharp and economical, the movements of a man who sought to waste neither energy nor time.
Swan blinked, slowly, and then took in a deep lungful of the station's recycled air. As he exited the hangar, uniformed soldiers snapped a crisp, hasty salute. With a wave of a hand, he set them at ease.
A moment later, he entered the hangar control room. "Put me through to central command," Swan said to the guard.
"Sir!" The guard's fingers raced across the console, and a viewscreen on the far wall came to life.
"Lord Swan, you've returned. We're having some difficulty with Project Twenty-One."
"Are you?" Swan's fingers drummed on the console.
"He killed one of his guards, sir." The soldier on the other side of the viewscreen looked distinctly uncomfortable. "With his bare hands."
"Why?" Swan's expression darkened.
"We... don't know. He refused to tell us, and sealed himself in his quarters." The guard said. "That was three days ago, sir. Since you were expected back from Mars so soon, we thought you would be able to talk to him. You always know how to calm him down, sir."
"My expectations of my men are simple, lieutenant. I expect you to keep Tintagel safe and fully operational while my business concerns take me to Mars and Earth. Just as your father did before you. You were one of the first born here, weren't you?" Swan's expression softened, slightly.
"I've never known anything but Tintagel, sir. This is my home. My world."
And he'd fight to the death to defend it. That hung in the air unspoken. That was the point, the intention. The first generation of men and women who had come to Tintagel had forged an ironclad brotherhood, hewing a home out of barren rock in a place so far away from Earth and the colonies they might as well have lived in another solar system. In their children, that hard-won devotion became the fierce patriotism of having never known another home.
"Did you know the man Twenty-One killed, soldier?"
"Only in passing, sir. But he was a second-generation live-birth, like me." The soldier closed his eyes. "He had a wife, sir. And a third-gen on the way."
"I'll see to it that she's rewarded for his sacrifice." Swan gestured. "Take the rest of the day off, lieutenant. Twenty-One will soon cease to be a problem."
"Sir. Yes, sir!" The communication cut out.
…
When Swan reached the laboratory which housed Project Twenty-One, he waved aside the armed guards posted to the entrance, and overrode the lock on the door with his palm-print. "Twenty-One hasn't been able to beat my access clearance yet," He murmurs, "Small blessings." The laboratory was dark and still as he stepped inside.
Swan didn't bother to turn as the door slammed shut behind him. Movement came out of the dark to his left, and a sinewy arm looped around his neck. "Father," A soft voice whispered, "You've come back." The boy held a shattered cup in one hand, which glinted faintly in the soft emergency lights illuminating the laboratory.
"Venture, your resourcefulness continues to astound me. Why did you kill that guard?" Swan gently put his hand on the boy's wrist, and lowered it.
"I could see the look in his eye, father. Like I was an animal... a freak. I'm not a freak! I'm not!" The boy hurled the glass at a nearby counter, where it exploded into shards.
"No, Venture, you are not. Freaks have no purpose. Your purpose is clearly defined, and very important. And I think the time has come for you to realize that purpose. No more simulations, no more tests."
The boy's whisper came in a delighted hiss of breath. "Operation Qashmal."
Swan nodded. "Remember the quote I taught you?"
"I saw, and beheld a terrible wind coming out of the North. A great cloud flashed with brilliant fire, and from its midst, like the color of electrum, from its midst there was the likeness of four living beings."
"That's right." Swan gave a soft smile. "You are the first of the storm riders, Venture. The others I have kept in virtual reality their entire lives. But you, you are special."
"I prepare the way... for my brothers."
"That's right. There are those who would stand in our way. Those people have to be removed. In addition, conditions have to be such that when we arrive in force, our enemy will not be able to resist us. Now is the perfect time. Now is when we strike. Tomorrow you will take the Naga and set out for Earth. From there, you know what has to be done."
"Oh, father," Venture whispered, "I will prepare the way. I will be the avatar of chaos itself! I promise!"
"I have no doubt in my mind," Swan whispered, "After all, that's what you were born to be."
…
Duo Maxwell, Junior, was thirteen years old. He was also a remorseless bundle of energy.
His mother often said there was one person alive who could keep up with her son—his father, in whose image he had been perfectly cast. They looked alike, they walked alike, they talked alike. They even dressed alike. There was no sign of teenage rebellion on the part of Duo Maxwell the younger. His father was his best friend, his hero—the hero, really.
"Kid! Hey kid! No, don't drop it here, drop it to your left. TO YOUR LEFT!" Duo Maxwell the older looked up as the crane swung directly over his head and released a ton of scrap salvage. He rolled to the side, closed his eyes, and grit his teeth as metal hit the ground with a tremendous crash. Then he opened one eye, and proceeded to remove his hat and stomp it into the dirt of the Maxwell scrapyard with one booted foot.
The door of the crane operator's compartment opened, and Duo the younger came out, legs first. "Dad? Dad! Holy cow, dad!" Earbuds dangled from a wire hanging down front of his shirt. "Are you okay! Sheesh, why didn't you tell me you were down there!?"
"WHY DIDN"T I-" Duo shook his head. "Ooh, kid! You are lucky you're so handsome or I swear I'd—you almost killed me! What do you think you're doing! I told you not to crank the music up so loud WHEN YOU'RE OPERATING THE CRANE!"
Just as Duo Jr. was about to open his mouth to respond, the sound of a car pulling up caught his attention. "Dad?" He blinked, once, and then moved to take his father by the arm and turn him, slightly.
"And another thing-" Duo Sr. caught himself, and his eyes widened. The limo that had pulled in was sleek and black, a beautiful, purring machine. The height of elegance and luxury, the height of price.
"A car like that in my salvage yard can only mean one person," Duo said, his voice quiet. "Wait right here, kiddo."
He sauntered up to the car, and leaned in to the black-tinted rear window. "I'm sorry, but if you park your car here, I'm afraid I'm going to have to sell it for scrap! This is a business establishment, not a parking lot...!"
The window rolled down, and Quatre Raberba Winner leaned back in his seat. "Well that's a shame, Duo. I thought that since my business trip here concluded early, I'd come to visit you. But if my car's in the way, I'll leave!" His smile was small, but his voice was utter sincerity.
"Hey, heeeeeeey!" Duo said, taking his hat off to pat the dust out of it, "Don't be so quick to bail on me, Quatre! It's been what, three years? Of course I've got time for you! You don't mind if the sprout comes along, do you?"
Quatre's expression brightened. "Of course not! I'll buy you and Duo Jr. lunch. Hop in!"
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeey, kiddo!" Duo waved his hand. "Come on! You and I are gonna have lunch, and it's on the richest guy in SPACE! This is gonna be a real treat!"
Duo Jr. had already crept around to inspect the front of the limo. "Wow...!" He looked up, and then blinked. He knew his father had fought alongside Quatre Winner in the Eve Wars—everyone knew that—but the thought that he might meet the man face-to-face had never occurred to him.
As the duo of Duos slid into the limo, Quatre shifted to make room for them, and Duo took a moment to consider his old friend. Fifteen years had done little to dim Quatre. He practically radiated light. "So, how's your sisters?" Duo elbowed his son. "Quatre's got an entire army of sisters, kid. I met 'em, once. And they're all doctors and lawyers and engineers and scientists."
Quatre flushed, in response. "It's true," He admitted. "So, you must be Duo Junior. It's a pleasure to meet you! I'm-"
"Quatre Raberba Winner!" Duo Jr. said, as he reached out to grab Quatre's extended hand in both of his. "You fought with my father in the Eve Wars. He said you saved his life a whole bunch of times! Is it true you slingshotted around Venus to bring back the Gundams in time to stop the Christmas Revolt?"
Quatre's flush deepened. "That's not... precisely how it happened! And your father saved my life at least as many times as I saved his." He looked up. "Mahmet, I remember there's an Indian restaurant not far from here. Would you take us there, please?"
The driver nodded. "Of course, Master Quatre."
"Aaaaaaanyway," Duo said, stretching his legs out, "What made lil' ol me pop into your head, Quatre?"
Quatre looked up. "Today is April 7, Duo."
Duo's expression softened, and dimmed slightly. "Operation Meteor. It's been fifteen years. I remember when I thought every day was gonna be my last."
"But we survived, and humanity is at peace. I thought maybe you'd like to celebrate." Quatre looked to Duo Jr., who was watching the two older men with a perplexed expression. "I'm so happy for you, Duo! You have a beautiful family! I remember when you called yourself the 'God of Death'!"
"Don't remind me," Duo said, with a hint of tiredness in his voice. "I try not to think about it too much, but I thank whatever higher power is or isn't out there for Hilde and the kid, here, every day."
Duo Jr. looked to his father. Duo didn't speak of his life before the Eve War. At all. When Duo Jr. had asked his mother about it, she said only that it had been full of sadness.
"I'm sorry, Duo." Quatre looked away, and back to Duo Jr. again. "So, Duo, do you like baseball?"
"Do I? The L2-X359 Comets are the best!" Duo Jr. bounced in his seat.
"Well, I'll tell you what. How would you like to meet the whole team, and get their autographs?" Quatre laughed.
"WOULD I!?"
Duo sighed. "Quatre, what're you doing spoiling the kid? He's a handful as it is..."
Quatre looked up, his expression beatific, innocent. "I like making people happy, Duo. What can I say?"
…
Later, after they had returned to Duo's home and Duo Jr. had run inside to tell his mother about the day's adventures, Duo stopped outside of the house and turned to Quatre. "So Quatre—how are the others? I'm out of touch and happily so, but I know you keep tabs on everyone. I thought maybe there'd be trouble, what with Madame President and all-"
Quatre clasped his hands together. "I have complete faith in the president, Duo. After she gave Lady Une a cabinet position, she promoted Wufei to the head of the Preventers." He sighed. "He seems to be doing very well. I know he relishes the work. Trowa's still with the circus. We speak... often. And Heero-"
"Is ever the loyal ghost to his fair lady." Duo finished.
"Relena turned down a high-level position with the new administration. She'd like to take a vacation and get out of politics for awhile. I told her it was a good idea, since she only turned thirty... today, actually. And we all packed a lifetime into one year, let alone fifteen. We're going to discuss some joint philanthropy ventures, actually." Quatre blinked. "As for her and Heero, well—It's very... chivalrous."
"Well, neither of them are the domestic type. Marriage, kids—Heero does love dogs, though."
"...Chivalrous."
Duo rubbed the back of his neck, and laughed. "Ah, Heero. He'll never change. Anyway, come on in, Quatre! Hilde'd love to see you, and I... well—I'm glad to spend a little while with an old friend."
…
On the evening of April 7, a lonely cargo freighter passed between the L1 Colony cluster and the Earth. As the small crew settled in for their evening shift, a warning signal lit up the cockpit monitors.
"What is it?"
"I don't know, but it's passing within five thousand kilometers of us." The young man on deck shook his head. "It's probably just a meteorite."
His partner pointed at the monitor. "No, wait. Look at those sensor readings. That has engines. But no civilian spacecraft would be going that fast."
"Huh. Weird." The sensor array rang again. "Wait, it's turning."
"It's headed right for us! Get out of the way!" Both young men frantically worked the controls, as the spacecraft approached. It was a small, v-wing shuttle, painted black to hide against the backdrop of space, with only its powerful engines to give it away. As the ship approached, it slowed, and then finally came to a stop.
One of the freighter operators looked up. "Why did it—oh, God, what IS IT?"
A hatch had opened in the top of the ship, and ejected a mobile suit. From the waist up, it was humanoid—but instead of legs, it had a long, sinuous tail. Flared thrusters in the shape of wings spread along its back, and as it moved, whip-like tendrils surrounded it in a nimbus of energy. The suit raised its arm, and in its hand, a long-handled energy axe flared to life, illuminating the freighter's cockpit with a sickly green glow.
"This is the trade freighter "Pallas" reporting an unidentified-" As the freighter's pilots desperately tried to radio for help, the mobile suit swung the energy axe, caving in the ship's cockpit. It then struck the hull again, and a third time. The axe ripped through the hull, again and again until finally explosions rocked the ship, tearing it apart and leaving nothing behind but scattered debris.
The mobile suit slithered back to its ship, and vanished inside.
In the cockpit of the shuttle, a solitary figure in a black space-suit returned to the pilot's chair. "Venture, reporting. A civilian ship detected me. I destroyed it. The Naga Gundam is so powerful. It was effortless, like breaking a toy!"
The shuttle turned, and rocketed toward earth. "With a mobile suit like this, I could break the world."
…
At Preventer Headquarters in New York City, Wufei Chang was leading a squadron in martial arts drills. He scowled, as he grabbed a towel. "You're all soft. I will not have members of this organization who cannot adequately defend themselves. If you cannot defend yourselves, you cannot defend others. You are the only line of defense Earth and the colonies have left. You are justice. And you cannot allow yourselves a single moment of weakness." He threw the towel over his shoulder, and walked out of the gym.
"Sir," said his assistant, "Don't you think you were a little hard on them?"
"A little?" Wufei smirked, the corner of his mouth curling up. "I was merciless, sergeant I expect nothing less from them than I do from myself. I believe every word I just said."
"Well, they're used to Lady Une, who was tough... but diplomatic."
"Compared to Lady Une, I'm downright forgiving. But you're right; I'm no diplomat." Wufei looked up at his assistant—he furrowed his brow. "She would assign me an assistant taller than I am." As his assistant touched her earpiece, he paused. "What is it, sergeant?"
"Sir, we're getting a report from colony dispatch. Apparently they got a distress call from a freighter reporting a... mobile suit. When a Preventer cruiser found their transponder signal, the freighter had been completely demolished. All hands lost, sir." She blinked. "Sir?"
"Fifteen years..." Wufei murmured "Tell them to scramble a forensics team. Search for points of impact with accompanying beam scorch-marks. And get me a shuttle. I'm going to space. I'll personally oversee this investigation from there."
The sergeant saluted, crisply. "Sir!" She departed, her stride brisk, efficient.
Wufei's expression grew contemplative, distant and dark. "In all these years, did we miss a mobile suit factory? No... not possible." He dismissed that idea out of hand. The Preventers were as efficient, dedicated, and zealous a police force as could be imagined. He quietly returned to his office, and sat in the high-backed chair that had so recently belonged to Lady Une, before he turned to look out over New York City. Then he turned to his computer and set to work.
He brought up a display of Earth orbit, pinpointed the location of the destroyed freighter at the probable time it encountered the rogue, and then traced its probable trajectory. "South America," He murmured, "Almost certainly."
Wufei sighed, and slipped on a pair of glasses, before he composed a dispatch to the Rio de Janeiro Preventer base. "Place all interception teams on high alert. Hostile is believed to be in the Brazil area. Engage with extreme caution."
He pushed his chair back slowly, and studied the soft glow of the screen for a time. "We've spent the past decade and a half preparing for exactly this scenario. But I can already smell the smoke and hear the screams. Oh, Nataku... don't let it all have been for nothing!"
…
The Amazon was hot, stifling. Wet. But it was also alive. Venture had never seen so much life. Everything on Tintagel was carefully regulated, meticulously controlled. Even the verdant hydroponic gardens that provided fresh food to the fortress were constantly trimmed back and studied.
But in the rainforest, life exploded. The trees were so thick light barely penetrated to the ground. The heat and humidity were so intense, that only the cockpit of the Naga Gundam provided relief.
And so much of the life in the rainforest was deadly. It was a living organism, constantly feeding on itself, swelling and growing.
It was thrilling.
He had been hesitant to send the encrypted report about the freighter, at first. His instructions had been clear—he was not to be seen on his approach to the planet. It had been their bad luck to run afoul of the Naga.
But the response had come back, perfunctory and simple. Spend a few days hidden in the jungle. Then strike at the closest major urban population center. Cause as much damage as possible in a short amount of time, and then retreat.
Venture studied readouts as he relaxed in the Naga's cockpit. "The closest major urban center is the city of Manaus, in the old Amazonas province." He laughed, clipped and hard. "I'll wipe it off the map!"
When he emerged from the rainforest canopy, Manaus spread out before him. A city on the very edge of the rainforest, Manaus was centuries-old, with chaotic, clashing architecture. It was... "...Ugly!"
The first building struck by the Naga Gundam was a cathedral, over five hundred years old. With a single stroke of the mobile suit's tail, a wall was caved in, the roof crushed. The suit wheeled around, and then raised its beam-axe high, before lashing out into an office building.
Venture laughed, as he watched the people on the streets below scatter and run. He raised the gauntlet on the suit's other arm, and the twin sickle-shaped magnum crusher blades spread wide, before he seized the corner of another office-building and cleaved through it. "That's right!" He said, as the suit's lashing electric tendrils struck the building, shattering windows and causing the interior to burst into flames, "Run! Run!"
Suddenly the Naga was rocked from behind, and the chirp of the suit's warning system caused his attention to snap around. He let out a grunt of surprise.
A group of police vehicles had parked at the intersection, and deployed a heavy rocket-launcher. Despite its small size, the armor-piercing rockets packed a punch.
"It's not enough!" Venture growled, as he wheeled the Naga around, and swept its tail through the building closest to the soldiers on the ground. Concrete and glass sprayed the vehicles, crushing some, catching the officers who had dared to attack him.
"Preventers!" He had been told they were weak. A half-hearted police force that was a pale shadow of the grand armies it had replaced. But as he swatted the pests on the ground, he was struck from behind again, this time from the air. "Helicopters!" He thrust one arm out, and caught one heavy chopper in the blades of his magnum crusher, neatly clipping it in half. It exploded around the gleaming blades, before he raised his energy axe, and struck the other out of the air.
"Do you think this can stop me? Do you? This mobile suit was built to BREAK YOU!" The crusher's blades snapped open at a wide angle, and the gauntlet itself began to blaze with a bright green light. Energy snapped and crackled along the blades, before Venture leveled the weapon along a wide street—and fired.
The beam that blazed forth from the crusher caused pavement to buckle, warp, and finally disintegrate. Glass windows shattered before the beam struck them, and then the buildings themselves crumbled and fell apart in the wash of energy.
People caught by the spray had time to look up and scream in horror, before their bodies twisted and vanished like smoke. Venture marveled. Just like that, the Naga was able to devastate an entire city!
"We've done enough," Venture whispered. "It's time to go!"
The Naga Gundam turned, and undulated across the ground at a breakneck pace, tearing up pavement and shattering concrete, before it reached the mouth of the Amazon. Gunfire from Preventer vehicles rocked the suit. Then, with an enormous splash, it vanished into the river. The suit's tail lashed high above the water, glimmering in the sun, before sinking below the surface.
On the ground, the commander of the Preventer interception team surveyed the ruin. "All this," He breathed, "In less than three minutes." He turned to a subordinate. "Send a message to headquarters. You tell them exactly what happened here!" He let out a shuddering sigh. "We were completely outgunned by that mobile suit. Completely overpowered. And that was when we were ready for it."
His eyes were bleak, haunted, as he looked out over the burning, blasted wreckage of Manaus.