AN: Well, I do hope that you didn't wait overly long for this. With this chapter upload, it marks the unveiling of the sequel to my prior story: The Soldier of Zeon, the adventures and tribulations of Dieter Kries an OC of my throughout the month of January during the One Year War. With all the one shots and side fics that followed that initial project, I hoped to craft more or less a highway for this narrative, and here we see the beginning of it.
So sit back, enjoy and prepare to read more of my work, and of course Sieg Zeon!
Disclaimer: Despite all my valiant efforts ownership of Gundam still eludes me...for now!
Introduction
Chapter One: Prelude to Destruction
Transmission from Mercury Lagrange Point 1
280,987 Kilometers from the surface of Mercury, Dark Side, Orbital Weather Station
Station 1-K7
June 15th, 0091 UC
1900 Hours
The ancient artificial platform that had been placed amid the rolling waves of gas, debris and rock that regularly exploded upward from the surface came from a time when the possibility of mineral or ore extraction from the heavy metal rich planet had been given serious consideration by certain commercial interests within the Earth Sphere but in the lead up to the eventual outbreak of the One Year War it like many of its automated brethren had been abandoned. Projects stalled out or were canceled as resources were diverted towards the decade long military build up within the Federation and then the war effort, in the aftermath of that conflict it had fallen even further into obscurity, eventually the controlling interests of the handful of satellites that had been launched towards that effort were sold off to a subsidiary branch of Anaheim Electronics. From there it was merely a matter of time before it was converted to act out its new purpose.
Making usage of its high speed broadcast radio setup along with its transmission and reception equipment, once designed to report minute surface changes in temperature and stability into a all but untraceable and utterly encrypted communications array was something of a headache due to its inability to coordinate rapidly with modern computing operation systems but all the same it would be vitally needed for its new master's endeavor. With the advent of laser burst comms and high speed communications via the Sides and their assorted satellites and radio transmitters and receivers the frequencies and channels that were reserved to the decades old platform were dreadfully out of date and therefore nearly impossible to break into without dedicated equipment to measure and monitor it.
And that was how it was, months past by for the platform as it completed its shielded rotation across the dark side of the tidally locked planet, collecting data and information that would never be used for colonization and mineral extraction, forgotten by all until a partnership was struck between AE and those who would have use for such a unique method of sending highly sensitive data back into the Earth Sphere. That was what prompted the aging if still mechanically sound array to open, to extend its crude and antiquated radio antennas and receivers and begin transmission of the data it was being tight beamed locally out of Mercury's bounds and towards Earth on this day.
The message itself was exceedingly simple and even the simple automated systems and the rudimentary intelligence that been created solely to oversee the station and its siblings noted that much, usually the incoming burst transmissions were far lengthier. Locations, potential targets, information, spy reports, all these things were funneled through it towards those who sought that information, undetected. This time it was but a simple command.
/High Priority /
Begin immediate mobilization and preparation for extended combat routines against the Federation, follow operational procedure 4-7
Target-Earth/North America,California/Portugal, Lisbon/Predetermined Soft Locations 721-54, With lack of orders commanders are given authorization to engage targets of opportunity, Case Black 119
Immediate Orders As Followed
Operation-Olympus/Start/
Sieg Zeon-GOOD HUNTING!
Even the simple AI who had been created to monitor weather, to transmit that data to would be colonists noted the change in the message this time, this was not a mere update. Whatever those who had come to make use of it had been awaiting, this was it.
It had been a long time coming for this. All that had came before would finally be justified, victory would finally come to them. All the wasteful destruction and deaths that had plagued their species, all the havoc and discord that had been wreaked upon humanity would end. And it was all owned to Haman Karn, the final commander of Axis later known as Neo Zeon had laid the seeds for this next chapter. For this final entry into the saga of the Universal Century. To final end and utter destruction of the Earth Federation.
It had taken years of preparation, time to accumulate the needed resources, and personal required to carry out this operation. But that was over, now they stood ready, now they would take their vengeance and in the process of this much deserved retribution...for the first time in more then a decade a Zabi would rule Side Three, the legacy of Haman Karn would live on. The collective wish of their people would be honored, and all would return as it must, for that was the destiny of Zeon. If it could not rule all of humanity, it would at the very least rule its own birth place.
They would reclaim the homeland, they would reconstitute the absolute and divine authority of command to the family that had elevated Zeon above all others.
Above all...They would reforge image of Zeon's absolute and unquestionable might, no longer would they be regarded as irregulars fighting a war long since over, no longer would they be the castoffs of a Federation puppet state, no longer would they endure the humiliation that had burned within them since some twelve years prior. Zeon would be rebuilt from nothing, and everything would be set right, he would bank on that mandate with his life. To accomplish this he would do anything and everything within his power to demonstrate the utter futility of opposing him, to opposing Zeon, it did not matter what was done in the name of this cause. It was holy, a divine mandate to him to give his people their homeland once again.
Zeon would live again, not as a false republic under the dictation of the Federation but as the Principality it had become under the wise and proper direction of the Zabi family. Who better to rebuild her family's legacy from nothing then the young girl Mineva? Sole surviving Zabi and of course...its rightful sovereign by mandate of blood. To give this girl her destiny, they would need to reclaim their own, rather then fighting a losing and desperate battle against the Federation they would strike as they had in the war. Not the pale and false imitation that Delaz had invoked, not the tale of betrayal and tearchery that Haman had suffered in no. They would reignite the fear and terror that the Federation once felt at the mere prospect of facing them down in battle, and they would cobble together their shattered honor and forge a blade to drive straight through the Federation's heart with it.
They would reconstruct the battlefield of their youth, the war of their youth.
Two Years Ago
Mosa Bloc, Neo Zeon Asteroid Fortress Axis, Outer Perimeter of Core 3
Zeon Battle Group
Gwadan Battleship: Inxs
January 17th, 0089
1700 Hours
How could it happen again? How could victory be snatched away from them again? Watching from aboard the bridge of one of but a handful of surviving ships remaining to the Neo Zeon fleet he, perhaps one of the scarce few officers left to their force was witness to it. A mere hour earlier he had fought against the best of the paltry force the AEUG and the scant remnants of the rebels of the now fallen Glemmy Toto had beset them with, he along with his fellows had fought a long and decisive battle but as it raged to its conclusion he was absent from the field. His Gelgoog despite its numerous advancements and reinforcements over the course of the decade he had piloted it since its first combat sortie at A Baoa Qu, still was limited to the scope of its technology. Its munitions were relatively time consuming to replace, especially the individual E-Cap cells that had to be inserted for its refitted arm mounted beam cannon to function, its hand held weaponry was held up to the same standard as all of their mobile suits yet all the same, even the most advanced beam magazine eventually had to be replaced, they could be expanded and their power draw lessened with every improvement yet still all energy was finite.
So he had withdrawn, just temporarily to have his machine refitted to fight once more, and yet in perhaps the space of thirty minutes during which his machine along with the handful of others still present within the great battleship's hangar were being refitted and rearmed for further combat, it all fallen apart. Their force, their fleet, it had been routed, picked apart, obliterated. At the head of the AEUG's charge had been the Gundam. Lady Haman had issued challenge to it and its pilot and as she had requested, the majority of the Zeon forces had not interfered in what was bound to be an honor duel between their leader and the pilot of the newest incarnation of the Federal abomination that had been haunting Zeon since late in the One Year War.
Yet the results of their battle were clear, Haman Karn, his sworn leader, the regent of Mineva, the leader of Neo Zeon, his war leader for his crusade of justice and retribution...dead, only three battleships survived and all but a scarce few of their supporting vessels remained even moderately operational, much of their scarce surviving force had either been destroyed or severely damaged when the asteroid struck the colony, and even then...the survivors had been ripped apart by a fierce and unrelenting counter attack, there would be no victory today, it was obvious to anyone with eyes. What of their men though? What of their mission? What of Mineva, that final thought was the one that chilled his blood for weeks to come. Would he willingly abandon his sworn liege? To quit the field in disgrace and abandon her to capture, and imprisonment to save his own neck? To save what remained of their army? How many dozens had already died today? This battle had come right after the brutal conclusion of their own internal issue in dealing with the traitor Glemy and that conflict had saw much of their overall force split and pitted against each other, and it wasted the army they had assembled over the prior decade, an army that was supposed to be dedicated to singular purpose.
The restoration of Zeon, the reclamation of the homeland, the ascension of Mineva Zabi to her grandfather's and uncle's throne.
Here and now however was what mattered, not the misused potential of the past, not the petty and ultimately pointless struggle between brothers in arms against one another. Yes here had to be the concern, he had to contemplate with the death so many within the Axis forces he truly might be the ranking commander of their force, the highest ranking military officer alive with the entire fleet...he had always wished for greatness, a command of his own, yet never did he wish it to come from this. He was no Gihren Zabi, no Haman Karn, no Delaz...he was barely fit to fight for any of those hallmarks of Zeon, broken and twisted as he was after his own repeat near deaths in fighting against the corrupt Federation. Yet all the same, fate did not ask him if he was worthy, ready or even capable of the task now seemingly thrust upon him.
All were still aboard the bridge of the great warship, even now the occasional flicker of battle, the explosions of munitions or mobile suits were visible from their position cloistered upon the asteroid, ship and missile fire illuminated the darkness but it was a losing battle, a desperate fight for survival. The bridge staff had been stunned into silence with the death of Haman and the damage done to the great vessel by the collision of colony with asteroid, their hull had been breached several times over from debris, and that wasn't factoring in the damage done to the warship from the battle itself. Even if he tried to rally the surviving forces would they be allowed to disengage or would they be senselessly shot in the back? No matter, it wouldn't be decision either way no he would abide by whatever twist of fate came his way.
He issued his first command absent from the authority of the Lady Regent, a twist of his lips bore his disgust at the prospect for all to see, he had wanted this, to be in command, to rule, yet what was he to rule? What was he to command? Wreckage? "Recall all mobile suits from battle stations, see if you cannot get in touch with what's left of the battle group..." His voice felt fluid and calm, projecting the familiar aura of command and cold determination he had ordered squadrons of men to their deaths with, that he had charged into battle with. He wouldn't provide the spark that would set fire to the embers of panic within the forces, no they needed something to rally around and perhaps they were the only ones left capable of that...perhaps he was the only one capable of that. Still to the matter of ships and mobile suits and recalling them from action...He wouldn't hold out much hope for that, their suits may be able to return under their own power but for their warships, that would be a differing matter entirely, for them to even regroup and attempt an organized retreat, they'd have to cross the field and risk destruction by that damned Argama or its pet Gundam. The crew to their credit, even the Inxs's own captain despite the horrid outcome of this battle, despite the travesty, they had witnessed here...were professional soldiers at the end of the day responded quickly whatever limited authority he and his rank could offer them. When they received no reply from either their support forces or much of their mobile suits he wasn't overly surprised, many had fallen with their liege as they should in defense of the ideals of a restored Zeon...unlike he, the survivor, the damned who clung to life through every failure, every defeat of Zeon. Would this cycle continue onward forever? Would he bear witness to the hope of revitalization, the actual possibility of victory to their cause, and then be there for its inevitable defeat again and again?
He pushed those thoughts away, reflection could come after he guided what few men he could away from this slaughter.
They were done here.
Only one thing remained to be claimed from the falling fortress of Axis before their departure.
Gazing dispassionately through the tempered clear material of his helmet he eyed the solid bulkhead before him, this was what he had come to claim this particular cell.
The vast vaults and stores of Axis contained within them mounds of precious resources, mined ores, and mineral wealth enough to supply and construct thousands of mobile suits yet that was not what he had come to claim. Amid the rolling power outages, the decompressing chambers and vented hull across the fallen fortress he had come for a singular prize, one that he could not willingly abandon even if it cost what remained of their forces even more dearly. No what remained in the deepest and darkest vault was what he needed, the final legacy of the Principality awaited.
Three elevator descents, four rolling corridors that spanned the length of the interior of the asteroid, and two now abandoned security checkpoints led to the treasures that were given to the sole surviving sovereign Spacenoids of Side Three. A sad reminder of better days, days in which they had ruled themselves, had fought to maintain that, to free humanity from the yoke of its controls at the hands of the Federation.
Ferried to the then distant fortress at the conclusion of the One Year War, he was perhaps one of the scarce few surviving within Axis that likely even knew this was here but he was aware of it and he couldn't abandon it. After all this was Axis's final trump card, the weapon Haman had threatened yet never employed. Releasing a thick cloud of breath that fogged his helmet he began keying in the eighteen digit entry code for the door, recalling the command code was as easy as breathing after all, he was privy to many similar codes that required to access the more restricted portions of the fortress. All save the one to the throne room which only Haman and a scarce few of her honor guard knew. Lady Haman...that woman had paranoia to a fault and that served her well with her security measures. Yet as a senior officer with the fleet he knew the codes, at least to this particular door. The accompanying soldiers stared as thick metal slid back before revealing the brightly lit interior of the cell, within the chamber were dozens of sealed industrial cargo crates, all bearing the old sigils and markings of the long fallen Principality.
This was the final gift of their former homeland to the forces of Axis, a parting gift that Admiral Karn had the foresight to retrieve from the stores of Granada before abandoning the Lunar City after the war. Stepping into the chamber he knew he was perhaps the first to arrive within this room since Axis had departed months ago at the conclusion of their war with the Titans.
Pulling himself along one of the thick sealed containers he pulled the thick heavy lids free revealing the interior of the case to those who had skeptically followed him on this mad jaunt across the falling fortress, they had questioned his sanity at his refusal to leave without at the very least confirming this room lost or if it survived retrieval of what was within. Pulling free one of the near ten pound explosives he grimaced at the rust and spotted metal that adorned the football shaped shell. These were far too small to be employed as his old C Type's 98 shells yet all the same the five kilogram fission bombs were leftovers of the Zeon campaign across Earth, something of a lesser known secret of the Principality in the late days of the war after the fall of Odessa.
They had used miniature nukes to cover their retreat. These were the legacy of that defeat, yet they were useful all the same despite their size due to the sheer amount of them here. As he eyed the remaining containers. 'Besides some are far larger then mere a 5 kilos'. Yes some of the larger storage units within the cell bore conventional rocket propelled nuclear warheads, not the makeshift nuclear mines they had made use of on Earth. All together they had perhaps forty or so conventional nuclear devices of various configurations and assorted weight strewn about the chamber. 'With this our war can continue.' While they had lost the strength of their force during the course of this war with these surviving weapons they could resume their counter offensive far sooner. After all while they had lost multitudes of skilled pilots and all too precious mobile suits either at the hands of the cursed AEUG or themselves during the resulting civil war the Toto faction had unleashed during the course of their incursion...with these those that lack of numbers could made up for.
Or at least the loss marginalized. Conventional war had failed them twice now, now was the time for a change of strategy. He knew what he had to do, now he simply had to figure out how to make it happen.
"Begin loading everything aboard the Inxs...leave nothing behind." With the command issued there was nothing left for him here as he gently placed the device of mass destruction alongside its other half dozen fellows within the case.
There was now just the simple task of him having to die for the next stage of this plan to succeed. That would be simple enough, after all he had come close to death numerous times before.
Two Years Later
Federation Proving Grounds, Monterey California
California Base, Defense Perimeter
June 24th, 0091 UC
1000 Hours
Steven Liu stared disgustedly at the simulator results as they streamed across the board, his last performance had been pathetic. You'd hardly think he'd ever even been within the cockpit of a mobile suit little lone a veteran of the war with the AEUG and Neo Zeon yet that was partly why he was here to begin with. Like much of the former 11th Terrestrial Battalion of the Titans he had been demoted and kept locked away in the brig but he skirted by more circumstance then merit. He had the CO to thank for that, O'Sullivan had saved his ass to put it frankly and earned a world of trouble for her efforts. He got to fly again, even in a uniform but it came at the price of him having to basically send his commander to the brig in his stead. She'd taken the rap for a few of the questionable activities that some of the European divisions had gotten up to in the year preceding the outbreak of Gryps...never mind the fact that he hadn't even been in the Titans back in 0086, he was a fresh faced recruit of disgraced special forces branch but that was enough a charge to throw him in irons for. The higher ups hadn't cared that they had shit for evidence, they wanted to reassure the now outraged populace of the colonies that surviving Titans were punished, and they were punished as a whole, anyone with even vague connections to suspected war crimes or crimes against humanity were often held for months before a tribunal even convened.
All the same though, what was he supposed to do? Not make the most of what he had been given? O'Sullivan had entrusted him with a future he could live within the service and he had done the best he could fighting against Neo Zeon during their brief invasion of Earth, and then the next thing you know Neo Zeon was fleeing back into the darkness of deep space and the war was done. He owed his former commander more then he could ever repay but he would spend the rest of his time stationed here with her to ensure that he at least paid off a fraction of that debt. Truthfully he was surprised he ran back into the former Titan here in Monterey, much of their surviving division had been cast to the winds when the Titans were officially disbanded, even those who weren't jailed had either left the service all together or had been relocated across the globe and colonies.
Prior to coming here, he hadn't seen the female officer for nearly two years. In that time she had changed, and while he hadn't known her back during the days of the One Year War and the original fight against Zeon, he had known her within the Titans as she served as his commander and if that was any indicator then she was a hell of a warrior even back then. Prideful, strong and smart as a whip but now she seemed subdued, she could still fight that much was clear but there was no longer any fire in it, any love she may have bore for the service had evaporated long ago, even he could see it. Not that he could exactly blame her for losing her enthusiasm...cast aside, imprisoned, charged and convicted of criminal negligence and gross incompetence, all for the uniform she wore being black and red at the time instead of white and blue.
He owed her for saving his ass multiple times as well and if anything her actions during the war should have earned her a commendation, he knew that the Federation had its troubles but the levels of blatant cronyism with former members of the AEUG in the aftermath of the war sicked him. Where there bad eggs among the Titans? Certainly, he'd never met Jamitov or Om but he had heard the stories that had circulated about them among the force, he'd passed them off as mere rumor but after Dakar and then Zedan, what was anyone to think? All the same though the actions of a few corrupt officers who got off on gassing civies shouldn't have reflected on O'Sullivan that much he was certain of.
Yet there was nothing he could do about, and that inability to do anything had frustrated him ever since he had ran into the woman in the base corridor weeks ago. They had talked briefly, promised to catch up yet that never materialized and he knew that while he was no mobile suit designer, he wasn't stupid. She undoubtedly resented him, she had ever right to do so...its one thing to brave and noble in the moment, to promise to protect those who serve under you, its another to rot in a cell for months for actually sticking to your guns.
Pushing the back a tuft of black twinged hair he sighed, this line of thinking wasn't doing him any favors.
"Hey Roy! Get the rig going again, I am going to beat that damn suit if it kills me!" He shouted at the techie from across the room as he began preparing the pod once again for another "sortie". He'd get rid of these troublesome thoughts the old fashion way, he'd blow some shit up.
'Amuro Ray you are going down!' With that thought raging within his mind he was once more submerged into the chaos and fire of an artificial war.
Meanwhile Elsewhere At The Base
Choice, free will, the act of such was what separated man from beast. To act beyond mere instinct and instead dictate the course of your life via your own action. The choice that awaited her was not easy but it was glaringly obvious she had to take one path or the other. No longer could she stew in the mediocrity of her current existence.
The glow of a single active terminal cast scarce illumination across the darkened quarters, the small single bed room officer's quarters were hardly spacious yet she was afforded a private place to bunk due to her rank, if only just. Across the rather spartan quarters only a few photographs of her father decorated her home, the rest of the space was reserved for manuals, logistical reports, staff reports, training reports, and other things that related to her work. Yet that despite the darkness she made no move to turn upon the overhead light or anything else, the message had come just as she expected. She knew it was no lie, no it came as mere confidence in that she knew better.
Yet all the same with the information in hand what as she to do know? What was to be her choice?
Meryl O'Sullivan stared grimly down at the service medal clenched between her fingers. She had won this decoration after the conclusion of the One Year War, despite her rather humiliating capture at the hands of a man thought dead. Yet here they were more then a decade out from the collapse of the Principality seemingly nothing had changed. Zeon had returned in force a mere three years prior and waged yet another war of rampant destruction and death across the Earth Sphere though thankfully the so called Neo Zeon War had a far lower body count...still though.
Her fingers tightened around the cooled metal. Its smoothed edges bit into her hand but she ignored the sensation, far too focused in her own rumination for that paltry sensation of pain to reach her. Yes her internalized shame and rage bit far deeper then that metal ever could.
She hadn't fought in the war, no at the time she had been under court marshal awaiting a tribunal to dictate her fate, she like many of the surviving Titans had been stripped of rank and thrown in the brig at the conclusion of Gryps and had to rot out the following war in a cell. After the Federation had convicted her as the commanding officer of the 11th Terrestrial Battalion of criminal negligence and gross incompetence she had served a paltry sentence much lesser then those who had been accused of worse. Much of the surviving leadership of the Titans these days were rotting in various prisons on charges of anything ranging from mass murder or "crimes" against humanity. Her own preceding thankfully hadn't been that dramatic...they had been allowed back into service, mere months after the conclusion of the preceding war. She had to ride out the entire conflict from the comforts of a 8 by 10 concrete cell in California, when she was finally released she was demoted and tasked with any shit deployment or duty they could think of. Yet after the mission to the Congo nearly a ago that had changed, she was instead ordered to oversee the training of the immensely depleted Federation forces. A task she had grudgingly took up for the following months because it was desperately needed. Gryps had gutted their manpower either by direct conflict with the AEUG or defections to it, those who had defected...even those that defected had usually died according to what she had been able to pick out.
Either in combat against her fellow Titans or later against the forces of Haman Karn's Neo Zeon.
But there were survivors. Oh yes there those within the AEUG who had survived their war with both the forces of the long fallen Principality under Karn and against the government of Earth, and despite their mutiny, despite their treason...they were rewarded, they were given official positions within the Federation, a new independent task force. The Londo Bell. Unlike her a loyal soldier of Earth, a patriot...for her steadfast devotion and belief. She was cast aside when it became politically convenient, for more then a decade she had served faithfully. How many Zekes had she killed? How many missions had she flown? How much had she given up, suffered and endured all for the sake of the Federation? She was unmarried, had no prospects for children, her father had passed shortly after the One Year War, and she had nothing left but the military...and then at the most opportune time, they'd stabbed her in the back as deeply as they could skid by with. She didn't regret her choice, it was between herself or her unit and they'd suffered enough by the end of Gryps, she couldn't put them through the mockery of a tribunal that awaited them. So she did what she had felt right as she always did...but the anger never faded from the indignity she was forced to endure. Why her? Why did she have to endure that in place of dead men with too much lust for power and too little compassion? She knew that the Federation just wanted to scapegoat the entire Titans branch of the military and they'd made damn sure to do so as quickly as it became the only way to retain their weakening hold on the once again restless colonies.
She didn't regret her choice...but she couldn't forgive that she had been forced to make it.
With a hiss of breath she tossed the service medal against the wall with all her might.
The hunk of metal impacted the concrete of the wall of her domicile with a grave thud before gravity kicked in and brought the forged bit of decoration downward in a heap of cloth and alloy.
Was it irony or fate that dictated she have something else in common with him? If nothing else she supposed it made the choice easier. Yes that mission in Africa months ago had offered a loop through her hole, a way out, a new chance.
Pushing herself off the uncomfortable lump of insulation that was her mattress she straightened our her uniform with a practiced ease that stemmed from years of doing the practice. Before looking herself over once in the mirror. She had only a few hours to ready herself for what was to come, there was no turning back from this point.
Making her way across the bounds of her "home" on base she eyed the items arrayed about it before deciding she needed none of these trinkets, none of them bore any value in what was to come, all they bore were memories of a life that had ended with her service to the Federation. She eyed the contents of the screen that still burnt in the darkness of the windowless room, among the various emails she again spotted the one that had led her to this. She paused briefly at the prospect of actually deleting it, no doubt it would be recovered from the hard drive unless if she deliberately smashed it into a lump of parts and circuits but there was no point. Soon enough what had happened would become obvious, there was no need for subterfuge. Bringing the cursor back across the screen passing over the little animated butterfly graphic she brought up the tab and closed it, no sense in making it too blatant no matter how evident what was coming became in hindsight. Clicking off the monitor of her computer she cast the room into darkness once more.
She had made her choice.
Federation Proving Grounds, Monterey California
California Base, Defense Perimeter
Jukon-class Submarine: Degwin, Eighty Nine Nautical Miles Off Shore
June 24th, 0091 UC
1200 Hours
The salted sea air bit into his lungs with every breath but he put aside the minor inconvenience even as it threatened to reduce him to hacking fits. All the same as he gripped the thick rusted metal of the hand rail as he strolled downward from the upper conning tower of the submarine he eyed the landmass in the distance despite the rolling fog of midday that clung to water, it had been more then a decade since he had returned to California not since he had been launched from it hectically back into space during the fall of the Zeon defensive lines in the aftermath of the raid on Jaburo. The blood of many hundreds of Zeon decorated these shores, they had fought, and fought and killed and been killed for days as the transport HLVs were shot continually back into space.
He was aboard the second to last when California Base finally fell, after the rather heroic if ultimately futile defense efforts headed by the infamous Midnight Fenrir Corps. He had fought alongside those men and women for days in the follow up from their failure in South America as the Federation tried again and again to break their lines and surround the bases under Zeon's control. It had been some of those hectic and bloody fighting of the entire war during the Earth Campaign and those final days of it lived up to that reputation, all the same though Midnight Fenrir was no longer his concern, the unit had been disbanded in the aftermath of the war and had been divided between those loyal to the ideals of Zeon and those content to play bootlicker. Either way it was all irrelevant now, the Zeon War of Independence was long since over.
Though soon it would be revived once more.
Amid the rolling waves of the sea, the cawing of birds in flight and the slow but steady thrum of the turbines that powered the submarine he felt oddly at peace. He had returned to Earth since the war, obviously it was required that he ensure that everything was in place for the eventual return and victory of the Duchy of Zeon. Yet still he had avoided California, indeed North America almost purposefully, it was to his eye yet another site where far too much had been lost in their bid for freedom, he did not begrudge the Zabi's as he knew some within their cause did, no he knew better. Gihren had been the man must suited to rule humanity, that was certainty, surely a far better dictator then the greedy industrialists and bureaucrats that lorded over humanity under the auspices of the Federation by any means.
Yet to many within their cause he was viewed as a mere politician rather then the leader of their force. It was true that unlike either Dozle or even loath he admit, Kycilia had gone through the Zeon military program yet all the same he stood at the forefront of the strategic brilliance that was their early success in the war. Because of him the Federation was driven to the brink of defeat...but he supposed in war, coming close simply wasn't good enough and many of his fellows held bitter memories towards what they lost, that undoubtedly colored their judgement, he didn't begrudge them for it.
He heard the soft approach of boots striking metal, he didn't bother to turn even as the Captain of the sub approached his side, taking up the other portion of the rail gazing outward. "Everything is ready sir." The gravely and rough tone of the submariner announced. "Well done Taylor, I trust everything is on schedule?" The causal tone of the question belied the sheer intensity of his gaze as his head turned slightly to the left to openly look upon his fellow officer. Everything had been going according to plan as of yet, and he hoped that streak would continue, they could afford precious few mistakes...'The lead up to Olympus needs to go perfectly...' Once things preceded as he planned then they could make adjustments for the future but as it stood now, any variable to the equation was a potential threat to his design.
That simply wouldn't be tolerated, and while he was putting his faith in the untrusted for his junction of the operation, it wasn't as if he didn't have a fallback in place to still get what he required. Yes he would hope things went to plan for this little show he had organized, yet even if this failed there was always the next step, and that wouldn't fail. He'd see to that personally.
This wouldn't be a repeat of nine months prior. No this time everything would go perfectly, he had the utmost assurance of that, after all...he knew the skills of his would be agent in this firsthand.
"Yes sir everything is underway, we are within firing range now and beginning final preparations for the mission." Good it was finally time to step out of the shadows, they had been nearly uncovered the prior year but due to either a stroke of fate or luck they had been able to operate in the underbelly of the accursed Federation a while longer, and now it was finally time to start this. No longer would they slink in shadows preparing weapons and resolve for when the day finally came to wage their war.
Now war would finally come to them, and in it victory.
"Good I want everything ready by the time the Degwin fires." He would tolerate no mistakes here, not here, not now.
Within the damp and tight confines of the submarine he found little comfort, the air was stale and heavily recycled, working off of decade old filters that had been patched and repaired as much as possible. The hull was pitted and scarred from wounds sustained both in combat and traversing the oceans of Earth, all together the Degwin was perhaps one of the last great vessels of the once powerful Zeon earthborne blue water navy. A ship that had been denied all but the most scarce and discreet of dry dock and refurbishment, it survived as much by the skill of its veteran crew as it did by the grace of luck.
Yet all the same it was fortunate he had stumbled upon the vessel years ago during one of his brief ventures to Earth to test out the critical components for his planned vengeance against the Federation, it made what was to come all the easier having something as rudimentary as a submarine on hand. Something that the Federation no doubt no longer even considered a viable combative threat on Earth, after all they were more then a decade out from the One Year War and the fall of California base and other Zeon berths across the planet. It was this arrogance he would exploit, this sense of entitlement and victory he would rip from their cold dead fingers.
Zeon would rise again and it would be in no small part to the dedication of those who had remained on this muddy sphere after their prior defeat, it was their drive for victory, their yearning for this reversal that would make it possible. Yes he had provided them with the munitions, the mobile suits, the weapons to fight he gifted freely, but it was their desire to wield them that would lead to their success. Because of his affiliation with a certain private economic interest it made it all too easy to smuggle weapons down to the planet below, officially marked transports that were ferrying run of the mill technical components and parts were also filled with munitions. Food stuffs and preserved goods destined for markets in space carried back with them not empty hulls but fuel, reactors and other needed components, he was cobbling together a force from what scarce little he had, in his efforts he had to discard his shame, his dignity and accept the reality that without assistance his vengeance would forever beyond reach.
With Anaheim's help he was finally within now ready to unleash what he viewed as the best possible chance of an earnest revival of Zeon, no longer would they war with the Federation to ensure triumph or the reclamation of the homeland, no they'd dictate terms straight out of the gate.
"We are on schedule sir and our escorts have arrived." He noted with some grim sense of satisfaction that they were registering several incoming pings upon the active sonar scans. There window for the mission had been achieved, everything was now in place. With that confirmation from Captain Taylor there was nothing left for it, now there would be nothing standing in his way beyond other's inability to get the job done. Giving a firm nod to the seated commander of the submarine he took in a deep stale breath before letting out an exhale through his torn nostrils and giving the man a grin.
Time to speak the words he had been awaiting since the end of the Neo Zeon War.
"Commence operation." Let the signal fire of their return from the abyss be lit.
"Reduce thrust, prepare to surface, load batteries 10-14 with anti personal projectiles. " The captain gave orders with the smooth flairless dictation of a man who expected his orders carried out as soon as given, and the crew obliged as the submarine ceased propulsion and began to rise upward, breaching the surface in a spray of saltwater already the men of the vessel followed their duty as missile bays were loaded with the provided munitions. And within a period just five minutes they were ready for action. "Batteries loaded Captain, awaiting your word." the gunnery officer confirmed over the onboard. Now Taylor had to simply give the word and this would begin.
"You have command Taylor I will coordinate with our escort force and direct operations ashore." His fellow officer merely gave a nod of affirmation, while it was true that they both bore the same rank and while aboard the vessel he granted a great deal of operation leeway to the submariner, ultimately both men knew that he was the one calling the shots, until his arrival they had been scrapping to the underside of the Atlantic clinging to whatever friendly port they could desperate for supplies and a reason to fight. He had changed that, with him came a prospect, a chance however slim for a reversal of fortune that had been denied them all for a decade.
As he strolled out of the bridge he heard the Captain give the command. "Missile Batteries 1-8...fire." As he began ascending the vertical series of hatches and passages that led to the exterior of the great submarine he couldn't help but to brace himself as the boat shuddered as it launched perhaps the first payload it had fired since at the very least the Neo Zeon War. He knew the Captain had he followed his own design would begin the assault by firing a collection of conventional M particle dispersal charges, miniature fusion reactors designed to explode outward blanketing the area in the electronic frying EMP effect of anything that wasn't grounded to resist the attack. After those had landed, normal missiles and explosives would suffice to soften it for the initial landing.
They had to make up what they lacked in numbers in surprise and ferocity.
Blind and silence the pig before bringing down the knife to slaughter it.
As he once more exited the sealed hatchway to the conning tower and eyed the land mass before him he was nearly taken aback by the sight of the warheads striking the military facilities, blossoms of fire erupting outward visible even from more then a dozen miles out but this was just the prelude, something to soften the base for their insertion. He gave a brief glance at his watch before giving a nod of assent as the Capule surfaced alongside the submarine its stocky circular body rising upward out of the water. The AMX-109 Capule one of the newer toys that dear Haman had left him with, while there were only a scarce handful of these machines remaining in circulation he had acquired one for the sake of this stage of the operation.
As its circular mono eyed camera regarded him in silence he merely awaited the somewhat lengthy process of the cockpit cycling to open. Once the hatch parted and revealed the interior of the broad aquatic mobile suit. "Good you are on time Yuuka, now lower the suit, we have a lot to do in short order." He commanded as the now revealed pilot complied as she worked the machines with her trademark finesses. She had objected during the planning stage of this operation, having to make use of a hijacked tanker ship to transport their mobile suits into the theater would put her well beyond the distance required to "save" him if anything were to go amiss aboard the Degwin yet she had relented, this plan required that all his pieces were active and while the Capule could be refitted to be stored aboard the Degwin that would give the Federation far too much chance of impacting the mission should the submarine be discovered.
So she had gone ahead with his design, she along with the rest of their pilots and machines were stowed aboard the 'Valiant Journey' a former deep sea cargo hauler he had stolen off of one of the Federation shipping companies nearly six months prior. It couldn't be helped despite the risks of seizing such a prize they needed something that could ferry a dozen mobile suits into the field and still have room left over for parts, munitions and other needed supplies. Not to mention it had given the men something to do while they awaited the operation to begin in full swing. As he pulled himself into the broadened and expanded cockpit of upper "head portion" of the Capule he slid alongside the pilot gantry and placed himself in the second control console behind the primary. He had to expand the craft for the sake of this mission, the normal Capule could barely seat one due to its rather limited frame but with a bit of work and some fine engineering on the part of Nakamura it had been an easy enough project.
"Orders sir?" He heard the frosted if somewhat flighty tone of his second come forth over the mic as he slipped out of the fatigues he wore aboard the Degwin and into the provided suit. Getting dressed within the tight quarters of the mobile suit into his stock standard black and gold trimmed normal suit that he had worn in service to Lady Haman's Neo Zeon wasn't exactly easy yet all the same it was something that had to be done. This uniform like their flag, like their homeland, like all the utterances of victory and triumph for their people was apart of their cause. The methodology, it was ceremonial. Yuuka for her part averted her eyes to give him some illusion of privacy despite the fact she had bore witness to everything that lay below the uniform many times before, he appreciated the sentiment if not the gesture. He hadn't had a sense of modesty or shame for quite a long time now. This was it, it had begun, soon they would be along with their fellows brothers in arms be racing into battle against their mortal enemies. At his behest, at his design, at his dictation and command. He let out a weary breath, this job was not one he had ever expected to take up, he had never considered himself to be a great mind, a military strategist, a man of brilliance and cunning who would be capable of executing some grand scheme to elevate their lot in life yet that was forced upon him. He could merely adapt and try his damnedest to ensure he was worthy of that. It was tight quarters within the darkness of the suit as it resealed itself and prepared to submerge despite the efforts of Nakamura it was obvious that this was designed as a one seater like many mobile suits and no amount of revision and expansion would change that without drastic redesign.
"Submerge and begin full acceleration towards the rendezvous point. Once we have landed you know what to do, act according to plan." He offered his subordinate finally. Yuuka Ashihana, his former would be protege of a student, turned from Academy Cadet into an Ensign in what was to be the final battle of their short lived war of independence under the auspices of the Principality. From there she had become a Zeon remnant officer stationed within Earth and fighting across its bounds ever since the conclusion of Operation Stardust nearly a decade before. Yet beyond all the accolades and titles, beyond her skill, devotion and blatant hatred, he had stumbled into something more. "Lieutenant." He stated bluntly as the machine completed its submersion and began to turn about towards the shoreline , its underwater propulsion systems already pushing them along thanks to the brilliance of the mobile suit designers of Neo Zeon under Haman Karn.
"You secured the 'package' yes?" He questioned aloud and despite him being to the back of her, of having no indicator of body language or posture due to the primary console and its piloting apparatus he could tell she stiffened at the titling he had given the individual in question. "Yes sir. It's done." She responded although a glimpse of the heat that he knew lurked beneath that icy veneer leaked into her smooth and almost robotic tone. Yet all the same he was pleased by the news, after all if that particular secret was discovered it would prove...most inconvenient for what he had planned, it would give the Federation leverage, and they already had too many advantages as it was.
"Good...Olympus can proceed as planned and on schedule." He stated evenly, yet that was itself more half truth then genuine fact, even if she hadn't completed that particular duty they were far too into this stage of the operation for it to be put off for the sake of a single person. No matter who that person was, after the initial portion of their assault had begun, but he could tell that his former student had something to say and from years of working with her knew that until he allowed her permission to air her grievances she would merely keep them contained but due to her...abilities it was best to keep her in the proper frame of mind.
"Yes sir." She offered, this time the tone was absent any sort of indicator he might have offended her, she had slipped beneath the icy, emotionless veneer that she had been known for back at the Academy. In the years since they had come to know each other he had put together a rough dossier on her mentality, and coupled that with what he knew of her personal history and it didn't take a psychologist to understand how her brain worked on a fair few things, so it would be best to deal with this here and now before they arrived and it became a full blown combat situation.
"Speak your mind kid." He offered gingerly as he tapped absently on a sensor board measuring the distance between the incoming coastlands and the Capule, they had time for a brief conversation, even at full speed it would take a few minutes to cross a few dozen nautical miles.
She was silent for a few brief moments before she shook her helmeted head and sighed aloud. "I don't like when you refer to him in that manner." Now he had expected something but that? Truly that was eating at her? His usage of the word "package" in reference to him? What else was he supposed to refer to him as in unsecured communications? Face to face or no, there could be no chances taken, risks had to be minimized wherever possible.
"What am I supposed to call him out here? Any detail that can be monitored or reported back to the Federation puts him at risk, and you know better then most what that will lead to. Its a simple safety measure." It was not as if he did not understand where she was coming from with this, it was just the way it had to be. Whatever he felt, whatever he personally wanted had to come second behind the requirements for the revival of Zeon, if she wanted something more then that then she should have never joined with him in this venture to begin with. She should have known better, he would put personal wants behind the mission, the objective.
That was how a soldier was supposed to think.
Federation Proving Grounds, Monterey California
California Base, Defense Perimeter
June 24th, 0091 UC
1200 Hours
She had but a few minutes after the initial shelling began to get into position and complete her portion of the assignment. It had all gone according to his plan so far, the lines of communication to the outside world were severed by the detonation of M-Warheads that blanketed the region in chaff, radiated debris and high frequency radiation that rendered it a deadzone for a time, no doubt the Federation as a whole would soon become aware of the attack but for the moment they could precede. But they had to act fast, even if comms were down, their sheer proximity to civilization would soon prove detriment to the assault which why was she supposed he had been so eager to have someone on the ground floor of the base, some insider to slip among the chaos and retrieve what was required from the base's mainframes and archives, after all that was his sort of war.
Even in the most brutal and coldblooded of his attacks, there was always an underlying motivation, some hidden angle. Beneath all his poison, hatred and contempt there was a cold rationale, a logic.
No as much as he enjoyed the sight of Earth in flames, of its peoples broken and bleeding beneath his boot, he operated according to set objectives, and that was what his true aim was. Senseless destruction and death was simply his path to that goal. She reminded him of some of the Titans in that manner, perhaps he got off on the violence but it was merely a means to a end. Something to further the cause, and for now she would play her part as directed in this little piece of theater he had constructed.
She had to make this quick, none here were responsible for what the Federation had done, they would die in service to a government they believed in, they could die with the belief that they were doing the "right thing". She somewhat envied them for that, it was so easy to fight for a cause when you saw yourself as morally just, it was so much harder when it wasn't a clear choice between right and wrong, between loyalty to ideals and beliefs and the state you swore yourself to. Yet all the same, it was why she had to make these deaths painless, they did not deserve suffer no matter what that demented old Zeke had to say on the matter, all that would matter to him regardless were the results, he could glean his personal gratification from human suffering himself.
Strolling up the spiraling staircase of the observation deck of the command tower located within the center of the base, and thankfully out of strike range of whatever was lobbing high explosive shells at the base at the moment she steadied herself, it was one thing to contemplate this course of action but if she stepped beyond this minute threshold it would truly be the end of her former life. Yet what had loyalty gotten her? The city of her birth flattened by the corrupt bureaucrats? Truthfully some days she was glad that her father had passed however painfully from the cancer if only not to see what had become of Dublin mere years after his death. Haman Karn may have ordered the drop but she knew, she knew what the Federation had done, what it had allowed. It may have been covered up, buried among the bodies of that once great city but she found out all the same.
'Due to him all of all people...' During their first encounter all those months ago she had acted the part of the loyal Federal soldier, tried to kill or incapacitate him and bring him before the Federation for justice. That obviously hadn't gone to plan but because of that day she could never look at herself in the mirror again wearing the same uniform she wore this day, it had been easy, so easy to blame Zeon, to blame some leftover relics of the old Zabi regime for that horrible act, for that barbarity. Yet it wasn't the truth or rather it wasn't the whole of the truth. She had learned of what the leaders of the Federation had done during the Zeon assault on Dublin, how they had fled, how they had wrote off the city. 'Groveling before Haman like vermin.' Her fingers tightened against the warm wood of her pistol's butt as rested her forward against the smooth and cold steel of the doorway. To them all those lives lost were written off as 'population control.' It was disgusting, was this what she had fought for? What so many of her friends had died for in the war? To have Earth itself thrown under the bus by the Federation's elite? Haman was dead, there was no justice to be had merely pinning that atrocity to her corpse.
But the Federation still existed, a government willing to write off millions of people, an entire city to save its leadership still existed. And it would be punished for that, and while she held no delusions of moral superiority unlike her would be compatriots...she would see them pay all the same for it, in blood.
As she pushed open the door she noted the four scrambling technicians and officers who were responding to the sudden assault, no doubt they were trying to bring up communications, to call for help. The base was undermanned, as it had been since the dying embers of the Neo Zeon War, after all the Federal military now had its new toy to keep the civilians happy, no need to waste taxpayer money on something as senseless as a military base on Earth itself. As one turned his head no doubt to issue either question or command her pistol rose upward, to chest level. The Colt barked within her hand spewing forth its .45 caliber payload into the first tech's torso sending the man sprawling from the power of the cartridge. Readjusting she fires again, twice more the harsh recoil is familiar, welcoming. The rounds strikes true another officer's face is shattered inward below the nose when the round impacts, the M7 twists in her hand's fighting her grip but she has to complete this task.
Two more shots and the room is clear, smoke and blood trail from the corpses of would be allies, and now there is no going back.
A choice made in private hours ago now reflects reality of the present.
Approaching the center console slowly with grim purpose in her heart she began to type upon the keys. Bringing up the command prompt before pulling the floppy drive from her pocket, whatever rested within this storage she was to inflicted it upon the Federation databases. Allow it mine and trowel for whatever it was programmed to claim. It could have been anything on the little card, worm clusters, viruses, spam or malware of any sort but ultimately that wasn't her concern. 'Best to just get this done...' If she was lucky by the time she was done here the attack would be winding down and no would see her slip out...with her just due of course. She wouldn't abandon her mobile suit to the Federation, she had worked long and hard to prove herself worthy of that suit, it was the final reminder of...better times. Back when she had her own command, when she was apart of an elite, special group, that suit was her sole link to the past that existed and like hell if she was going to leave to the greedy slobs here in California.
As the icebreaker continued its attempt to punch through the Federation firewalls and by the same merit scrub itself from their systems to obtain whatever data it was designed to siphon her thoughts again drifted back to her mobile suit. It would not be left to rot here any longer, no it had been degraded and debased enough in the following years since Gryps.
It was something of a stroke of luck admittedly, it hadn't been dismantled like many of its fellow Titan brethren in the aftermath of the war, it was used as a trainer suit of all things for newly minted MS pilots, it would no longer be do demeaned. It would once again be worthy of that iconic tilting that had caused Zekes to brown their britches in fear back during the One Year War.
Gundam.
Steven Liu jolted upward from the simulator pod nearly smashing his skull against the canopy as the floor beneath him rocked from sporadic trembles, mere seconds before he had been acting the part of a soldier in a play war, a simulation to pit his skill against one of the greatest pilots that had ever come out of the Federation, one of the best mobile suit pilots in the short history of their place in war. To fight against a traitor who had turned against his own people when his morals drove him to join up with a bunch of terrorists.
"Get your ass out of there Liu we are under attack!" Roans the chief technician for the simulator VR program barked as the hatch of the pod began to lift off, its lighting cutting out just in time for him to be blinded by the fierce assault of the artificial bulbs shining down upon him. The chamber shook violently under impact of some sort of explosion which sent showers of grit, plaster and rock falling downward. 'What the hell is going on?' There was no war, there was no great insurrection against the Federation, there was nothing left to challenge its authority or military might. As he groggily got out of the pod and tried to orientate himself he he heard the barking over the intercom. "Enemy mobile suits have entered the base perimeter! I repeat enemy mobile suits have entered the base perimeter!" What enemy? Karaba and AEUG had disarmed and rejoined the Federation, what was left of Haman's Neo Zeon was last seen retreating as far back into deep space as possible after their surrender...So who was this?
Deep within the pit of his stomach he knew that he wasn't looking forward to finding out the answer to that.
The guards had abandoned their posting around the armory, it made her accessing the secondary hangar where her machine was easier but all the same it was disheartening to see. Though she supposed it was understandable, what were men with rifles to do against mobile suits? 'Plus I don't have to kill them all this way.' That she supposed was the true positive in this situation, she was no some mindless butcher. Not some war fanatic, not a monster...she wasn't like him. As fire and smoke trailed upward from dozens of impact points across the asphalt of the tarmac she passed through a first line of would be defense with a security gate she opened with a key she had pilfered off one of the corpses back at the command tower. The second defense was even less impressively bypassed by merely ignoring the camera laden corridor and walking through it towards the elevator. She no longer had to hide what she was, there was a pile of evidence amounting to what would be a death sentence already, and she longer had it within her to care anymore.
The Federation had written her off years ago, now it was time for that favor to be returned.
As the elevator descended downward into the lower halls were the test model was stored she felt for the first time in perhaps a year at ease. She could abandon what little she had come to care for in the interim since Gryps fairly easily, just as easily as she had been abandoned, at the very least this would provide the outlet for change, not just of the Federation but perhaps for all of humanity. As disgusting as the prospect was for her, what else was there? Leave the service in disgrace? Try to cobble together some sort of life as a civilian? To ignore what had been done to her? What the Federation had allowed to occur to Earth?
The sliding doors rolled outward with a loud clank of metal meeting concrete and she approached the downed machine, here it was resting among its fellows, older machines of Titan make such as Hizacks and even an old rusting Gabthley were stored down here, that the Federation hadn't smelted these down for scrap yet had been something of a comforting surprise when she had initially stumbled upon them all those months ago. she supposed she should thank them for that much. The history these mobile suits had witnessed should not be forgotten merely for the sake political convenience.
As she approached the suit in question she noted how it was stored upon its rear, its make was fairly easy to pick out even among such a line up as this. After all it was the only Gundam here, the only real Gundam on base in her opinion. Mass production or no, it was hers and she was taking it. As she climbed up along the pilot gantry to the suit, she couldn't help but smile at the machine in question, while she had only had it for a few months in that time it had proven itself invaluable, it had lived up to all the legends of the One Year War and beyond, it had completed her.
Then the Federation stole that all away along with everything else.
Her mind was a litany of technical specifications, yet the one that stood out at the forefront of them all was a simple titling.
'The RX-178 Gundam Mk-II Varient B or Mk-II B.'
One of half a dozen machines delivered from the AE lunar testing grounds and plant to the Earth based Titan's for prototyping, it was her final machine as a Titan. While its paint had been changed, its weaponry changed over for training lasers and dummy rounds it still bore the visage of a machine of war. The stout and broad mobile suit had to her eye at first been something of comedic proportion yet its power, its strength and speed so far outstripped her old GM Command or even her newer Murasai she had all but demanded of command she be allowed to pilot the test machine.
She took it to war against the AEUG, against their Earthborne comrades, against any enemy of the Federation, of the Titans, of the peace so many had died for in the prior war.
It was time, now after nearly two years for it to be reawakened for its true purpose, not training infantile children, not acting as some dummy for test rounds or as a trainer suit. To kill the enemies of Earth, to remove the stains that blotted the Federation, to finally bring true peace, true justice to this universal century. The prospect of a Gundam fighting alongside Zekes though stilled her for a moment, before she couldn't help but let out a stream of hearty laughter at the mere notion.
So much had changed in a decade, the world had been so much simpler, so much clear back in 0079. Zeon were the bad guys, she had to stop them, kill them, prevent them from outright destroying humanity in a genocidal war the likes of which mankind had never saw before. Now here she was preparing to join hands with them, to bring the Federation down to its knees. It brought her no happiness, no comfort or warmth but it was her duty, she swore a pledge to defend the Earth, to defend the people of the Federation against all enemies, she knew in her heart that mandate applied to the Federation itself even if that thought was treasonous.
Perhaps they should have just killed her in the aftermath of Gryps that at the very least would have prevented this but no they had wanted their scapegoat to live in shame, to deride and mock, and demean, to rip away her achievements, to paint history to whatever they wanted it to be. To bury their own sins atop the graves of the Titans, it would not be allowed.
Keying in the twelve digit code to the cockpit she let out a held breath as it slowly began to unlock she had hoped that the Federation techies would be lazy enough to keep it on the factory default. They had not disappointed, as the canopy slide back revealing the dark interior of the suit she knew this was it, she had crossed the threshold, there was no longer any choice but to continue walking down this path.
The path of the sword, of the warrior, of the soldier.
It was time to get this mission over and done with.
As he stared downward at the burning collection of hangars, barracks, depots and military facilities across the base he couldn't help but feel a familiar grin creep across his face. It was good that this day had finally come, a day not of the inevitability of today but the dawning of a new era of war. All the preparations and chores that had paved way to this moment would forever be worth it if this succeeded; nothing would change that. His war, Zeon's war had finally begun once again.
His fists clenched audibly within the piloting gloves of his normal suit. This was his purpose, his destiny, his path. It was something only he could do, because that was what had been forced upon, a mandate, a sacred deed bestowed upon him by fate. He not Char would lead Zeon to its proper glory, he not the heir of Deikun would reclaim the homeland for the superior race, he not that damned traitor would strike the blow today. It would be he and not Casval Rem Deikun that would do this, him and only him.
As Yuuka's Capule joined with its fellows breaching the outer perimeter of the base he couldn't but hope that his own mobile suit would be finished with its reconfiguration in time for it to make an appearance. After all he had spent the past two years playing the ghost, scarcely revealing himself, acting out through cat's paws and intermediaries. That ended today, it was time for the Federation to awaken to the fact that the 'Black Phantom of Zeon' was not quite in fact dead. Perhaps even if his survival was confirmed they still wouldn't acknowledge it, that would be fine.
Let those ranking novices he would face off against in the future quake in their boots, piss their pants in their fear at the prospect of fighting some sort of 'ghost'. None the less if the "Finstergeist" was not ready for its earthbound deployment yet none of that would matter, after all that was his machine, it stood out, it was a silhouette that the Federation undoubtedly never expected to see again grace their radar screens. Not since the unit's 'destruction' all that time ago back on January 17th, 0089. Let that ghost machine be a herald to the end of the Federation.
A symbol of not only his defiance but Zeon's unwillingness to pass from this Earth without yet one more struggle.
AN: Well a lot of shit went down in this first chapter didn't it? The kick off of a new war perhaps. A new struggle between Zeon and Federation. With all the usual assorted twists and turns associated with Gundam obviously. While this narrative is a strictly fan driven project on my end I do try to live up to the standards I have seen set for the series in terms of storytelling. At the very least, my own standards. To that end I am quite happy to say that I have fully penned out the story outline and have decided just exactly where and how I want this tale to end, what its high and low notes will be.
I have of course obviously kept in mind for future revisions and changes but as it stands this story is complete at least on the draft phase of things. Now you the readers simply need to await the writing of what amounts to these story boards and notes in actual process. In the mean time I do hope you have enjoyed this first chapter, this first look at my new chapter fic. Of course it will not be the only thing I am focusing on, I have a few one shots left to pump out to explain away the interim between this fic and the prior, or more specifically the Neo Zeon War based stuff and what happened after it.
That is projects like Residual Impact exist, to explain away why certain characters are aware of events, people and such in the ongoing chapter fic. I am trying my best to craft a saga worthy of UC lore and I will do my best at it.
With nothing more to say save perhaps I do hope you all favorite, follow and review.
Till next time
-Reborn Akatsuki