Mobile Suit Gundam: The Road to Alexandria

Chapter 1

Outside of Ghardaia, Algeria
October 27th, UC 0079

The Zeon Ghardaia Base was not a large facility; nor was it very permanent. Any hard structure buildings had been there when they had arrived some six months before, attached to the massive oil field that spread out around it. For the most part, it was a small city of tents set up around a hastily paved airstrip, with a few pre-fabricated buildings that had been set up for the Company's equipment.

Heat rose in shimmering waves from the airfield, making the multitudes of oilrigs and pumps waver before the eyes. Very few people were out in the open, preferring to stay in the shade to try and combat the oppressive heat.

One of these was Captain Samuel Holliday. An average-looking man with light brown hair and deeply tanned skin, Holliday lounged in a canvas chair situated under a tarp that extended from his tent. The sound of Gustav Holst's Jupiter drifted from within his tent, where it played on a battered old CD player set up on his camp desk. On the ground next to him was a large canteen full of water, made tepid by the heat of the day.

By Holliday's estimate, it was between 30 and 35 degrees centigrade, probably closer to 35. He'd grown accustomed to it in the five months he had been stationed in North Africa, but it did not mean that he enjoyed it. It was a brutal climate Holliday had seen more men invalided by exhaustion and heat stroke than from combat. Sometimes he wondered how the human race had ever survived on this planet.

It looked liked yet another typical day for the 5th Terrestrial Mobile Division's 3rd Battalion, Company C. In other words, another day of sitting around in the heat guarding the oil field that was being pumped for the Zeon war machine. As fuel, oil was unnecessary, but the petroleum was needed for the creation of plastics and polymers used in military equipment. Further to the south, past the Grand Erg Occidental, were massive iron mines. That was where D Company was stationed. Holliday didn't envy D Company that assignment, deep in the Sahara. It was sent north to the transfer point in Ghardaia, where the 23rd Engineering Corps funneled it further north to Algiers, where Heavy Lift Vehicles delivered the materiel into orbit to be refined and consumed by the Zeon factories at Side 3.

Holliday raised his canteen to his lips and took a drink, grimacing at the warm temperature of the water and the dust that seemed to permeate the very air. He forced the water down, absently shoeing away the flies that gathered. As he set the container down, he noticed a jeep roaring up from the airstrip, trailing a cloud of dust behind it. Against his better judgment, the young officer stood up and walked to the edge of the shade, watching the dun-colored vehicle as it came to a halt a few meters away.

It stopped, throwing a cloud of dust forward. It was whirled away by the hot breeze as a man jumped out and rushed up to Holliday. He was taller than the Captain, and somewhat heavyset. A dust-caked beard covered the lower part of his face.

"Something the matter, Sergeant?" Holliday asked the man as he pushed up the goggles he wore over his eyes. It left two rather comical looking white circles around his eyes in a face otherwise brown from dust.

"Nothing's wrong, sir," the Sergeant, a man by the name of Scott Pappas, told him. "It's just that a transport plane's been sited. Though you might like to go out and meet it."

"They radio in?"

"Apart from requesting landing clearance, not really."

"Think they're finally sending a replacement for Major Giannetta?" Holliday asked, snagging a battered, desert-yellow cap and goggles from the back of his chair. Snugging it over his head, he walked back toward Pappas and the jeep, where a third man waited in the driver's seat.

"You got me, sir," Pappas shrugged. "All they said was that they were coming."

"All right, we'll go out and meet them." Holliday swung up into the back of the jeep, coming close to cracking his head on the machine gun mounted there. "Good morning, Corporal Cusik," he said to the man in the driver's seat. Robert Cusik a short, dark man with a somewhat sour temper merely grunted in acknowledgement. Pappas walked around the front of the jeep and climbed back into the shotgun seat, adjusting his goggles over his eyes.

Pulling his own goggles down over his eyes, Holliday gripped the jeep's roll bar with his other hand. Cusik shifted into gear and the jeep jerked into motion. The wheels spun, kicking up sand and gravel as the driver spun the wheel around and turned it back toward the airstrip. The ride would have been nerve-wracking to anyone who had never driven with Cusik before, but Holliday and Pappas just rode in practiced indifference. The jeep jolted across the bumpy terrain, a cloud of dust and sand surrounding the vehicle.

Cusik brought it to a stop next to a makeshift observation tower set up next to the runway. It was the closest thing to an actual control tower the base had, with a minimum staff equipped with binoculars and a radio to relay their observations to the ground controller, who was stationed in a tent a dozen meters from the field. That tent also served as the base's main communications center; not that there was much that they ever needed to communicate to the rest of the 5th Division.

Holliday hopped out of the jeep once it had stopped and looked up into the sky. Sure enough, there was the shape of a transport plane above the horizon, coming in on an approach to the field. Holliday assumed that it was coming from Algiers base to the north that was the transfer point for personnel and equipment coming in from any one of three major bases. In this case, Odessa base in Europa, the headquarters of the 1st Division and routing point for most new personnel and equipment. Though it was possible that it had originated in either Alexandria Base to the east or Kilimanjaro base, the headquarters for the 5th Division.

This was an unscheduled flight, so Holliday had no idea where it had originated. It wasn't time for the supply run, so he suspected that it might be bringing the new company commander. Their previous CO, Major Giannetta, had been killed a month earlier when a knee joint in his Zaku had failed. The mobile suit had toppled, and had struck a large boulder buried under the sand. The Zaku's chest plate had caved in, crushing Giannetta between his seat and the control panel. Since then, Holliday had found himself in charge of not only his mobile suit platoons, but the tank units and the engineering corps that called the base home as well.

Pushing his goggles back up over the brim of his cap, Holliday reached back into the jeep and fished a pair of binoculars out of an equipment locker. Raising them to his eyes, he picked out the transport. It was a Gaw, the standard Zeon transport aircraft, a giant, fat-bottomed plane with massive engines to keep it in the air. It had been painted in the brown and yellow shades that all 5th Division aircraft stationed in Northern Africa were, with the underbelly left an indeterminate blue-gray. Its markings indicated that it was based out of Alexandria.

"Have they identified themselves yet?" Holliday shouted to the men in the tower.

The one closest to him shrugged and shouted back, "They've only given their origin and flight number, Captain. The ground controller's given them permission to land."

"Hell of a way to keep us in suspense," Holliday muttered as he turned back toward Pappas and Cusik. "Sergeant Pappas, get a squad together to meet the plane when it lands. Cusik, I want you to find me a jeep with a cover on it. If we are getting a new officer, we shouldn't subject him to a dusty ride. Yet," he added with a grin. "And while you're down in the motor pool, see if you can't get a truck or something to take whatever gear this guy's bringing with him up to the commander's tent. Never hurts to be prepared."

The two NCOs saluted lazily and went off to their respective tasks, Cusik roaring away with his jeep in a cloud of dust. Holliday watched them go, removing his hat and wiping at the sweat on his brow before turning his attention back toward the incoming Gaw. The plane grew larger by the second as it maneuvered into its approach for the landing strip.

A few minutes later, as the transport was nearing the runway, Pappas had returned with a small squad of soldiers dressed in their desert-yellow fatigues, assault rifles slung over their shoulders. Holliday motioned for them to follow him, and they walked toward the airstrip, stopping at a safe distance to watch the Gaw land.

The roar of the huge transport's engines was deafening, and the squeal of rubber lanced through eardrums as the massive batteries of wheels in the plane's undercarriage touched the tarmac. Large flaps and airbrakes deployed as the Gaw continued to speed down the runway; the whoosh of air hitting them carried across the camp, and the transport slowed immediately to a near stop.

Engines spooling down from a deafening roar to a high-pitched whine, the Gaw trundled to a halt. Ground crews ran out and chocked the massive wheels and began to attach umbilical cables to replenish the craft's fuel supply.

When the engines had shut down completely, the forward cargo bay door of the Gaw slowly slid open, revealing the internal mobile suit bay. Standing in it, secured for landing, was a forest green MS-07 Gouf. The transport's crew were already busily unsecuring the mobile suit, presumably to unload it.

"Phew, that's a nice-looking machine," Pappas commented. "Think it's our new commander's?"

"Well, I'm sure they didn't send it all the way here for me," Holliday replied dryly. "That green's going to have to go, though. Enemy would have no problem picking something like that out of the background."

"Ahh, just admire the MS for what it is," Pappas said jovially. "You can nitpick about colors later."

Holliday just shook his head, but said nothing as he led the troops down to the tarmac to meet the Gaw's passengers when they debarked. Already the base's aircrew was setting up a stairway to the main passenger hatch of the plane. The soldiers formed two lines, creating a corridor that led away from the aircraft. They came to attention, rifles held over their shoulders. Holliday and Pappas stood further back, awaiting the arrival of whomever the Gaw had brought to the base.

The hatch opened, revealing a tall, somewhat middle-aged man in a Zeon Major's uniform. He was impeccably dressed, right down to the shine on his black boots and the inclusion of the rank mantle affixed to his olive green uniform tunic. He had a slightly sour expression on his face, but he was immaculately clean-shaven, and his dark blond hair was trimmed neatly.

Pappas leaned over to Holliday and whispered, "That pretty-boy image isn't going to last long in this climate." The Captain had to stifle a laugh. Then, something just to the Major's left caught his eye. When he got a better look at what it was, Holliday's jaw dropped. "Is that what I think it is?" he whispered hoarsely.

His own expression mirroring Holliday's, Pappas replied, "I think it is. God, I haven't seen one in months."

Stepping out of the plane, smiling kindly at the Major as he helped her through the hatch, was a woman. She had dusky skin and had long, black hair that fell from under the wide-brimmed white sun hat she was wearing, matched to the white sundress that she wore. For both Holliday and Pappas, this was the first woman they had seen in months. No female soldiers or officers had been posted to this part of North Africa, and the men of the 5th Division were under strict orders not to have any contact with the native women, at least not outside of cities like Algiers. The last man who had had anything to do with one of the women of the nomadic tribes near the base had met with a rather ignoble end. And the natives had vanished before any retaliation could be carried out.

But this Both Holliday and Pappas realized they were staring and let their military professionalism take over once more. Setting his face in a businesslike expression, Holliday led his sergeant up to the foot of the stairs and saluted the Major as he descended.

"Captain Samuel Holliday of the 3rd Battalion's C Company, Major," he introduced himself, holding the salute until the Major crisply returned it. "Apologies for not having a more formal reception for you, sir. We weren't informed of your arrival."

"That was by my order, Captain. I wish to inspect the troops as-is," the Captain replied, clipped tones betraying the accent of a Side 3 native. "I am Major Moore. Franklin Moore. I am the new Commander for Company C. Are you the only senior officer, Captain?"

"No sir, Lieutenant King is in charge of the tank platoons, and Lieutenant Hill is commander of the 23rd Engineering Corps, though technically, they're a separate unit from C Company," Holliday informed him. "I'm commander of the company's mobile suit platoon, the Asfar Skikkiyn."

"Excuse me?" Moore regarded Holliday with a heavy-lidded, questioning gaze that made the Captain downright nervous for some reason.

"Asfar Skikkiyn, it's the local language for 'Yellow Knife,' the platoon's nickname, Major," Holliday explained.

"I see." Moore's response was cold and flat; Holliday did not like the tone of voice it came in. Before he could say anything else, though, the Major continued. "This is Miss Kamaras, my personal secretary. You will see to it that the men treat her with the same respect accorded myself."

"Of course, sir." Holliday indicated the covered jeep that Cusik had finally driven up to the airfield. "If you would like, Major, Corporal Cusik can convey you to the Commander's tent. Accommodations here aren't as civilized as we would like them to be, but we make due. I can also arrange for Miss Kamaras to be provided with separate accommodations and facilities near your own tent, Major."

"See to it. In the meantime, however, I will inspect the troops. Tell this Corporal Cusik that I want to see every section of the base," Moore ordered.

"At once, Major." Pappas, still standing next to Holliday, nodded and dashed off to inform Cusik of the change in plans.

"Upon my return, I want all senior officers and the other members of the mobile suit platoons to meet in the command center. Dress uniforms, Captain."

"Dress uniform?" Holliday fought the urge to snort. None of the men had worn a dress uniform in months, not in this kid of heat. He wasn't even quite certain where his was anymore. Still, diplomacy won out and he merely agreed with the Major.

Holliday saluted as the Major and his secretary walked off toward the jeep, watching her as she walked away. God, how can those legs just keep going on like that? Holliday wondered. Moore ignored Pappas as he entered the jeep, the Sergeant standing stock still at attention. Once they had gone, Pappas walked back over to where his immediate superior was standing.

"That's one lucky SOB," Pappas remarked. "Those legs go on for miles and miles."

Holliday agreed, but kept his opinion to himself. I don't like this, he did say. This Major seems like he's got a bug up his ass about formality out here. Seems like a real redneck RA. "Did you catch the part about dress uniforms? I haven't worn my dress uniform in longer than I can remember?" Holliday lowered his anti-glare goggles as he watched the jeep drive out across the plateau toward the tank platoon. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Notes:

I'm a great believer in inspiration. The basic idea for this came after watching an old WWII movie set in North Africa. The 5th Division troops depicted herein are based, in part, on the Deustches Afrika Korps commanded by Erwin Rommel.

Ghardaia: located in north-central Algeria, at the southern foot of the Atlas and to the north of the Sahara's Grand Erg Occidental. It serves as a transfer point for iron mined to the south and the oil pumped from the base, which itself is at least 30km outside the city itself.

Zeon Jeep: this is the jeep that shows up in 08th MS Team, episode 5, I think, where Migel and Eledore go AWOL. For visualization's sake, most equipment does look like its 08th MS Team depictions, like the Gaw.

Asfar Skikkiyn Platoon: As Holliday states, it's Arabic for Yellow Knife. If I've butchered it, would anyone who does speak Arabic please let me know. I combined the words after doing a basic net search on the language. At any rate, they pilot MS-06D Desert Zakus that more resemble the Gihren's Greed versions than the old MSV illustration (or if anyone has the old Gundam Weapons book on the MG Zaku, they look like that version, complete with very big heat hawks though C Company's machines have the radiator packs rather than the thruster packs depicted in the Zaku book)