"It is perhaps sad that so much has changed since the Break, and yet nothing at all has changed with the war." - Neo Roanoke, CE 78, on the conflict between Zodiac and Phantom Pain.
"When you have to kill a man it costs nothing to be polite." - Winston Churchill
Aboard the Hannibal class (refit) "Bonaparte", Northeastern Sector, North America, June 4th, CE 0079
Stella Loussier was very, very happy.
The 21-year old blond was currently doing pirouettes in the massive hanger bay of the Bonaparte, deft feet avoiding all obstacles in a very peculiar display of super-human agility. Her dance wove through cables and mobile suits, through cranes and mechanics, and more then once through the path of people who where making their way through the bay to the other sections of the ship. Many stopped to watch her, most accustomed to her peculiarities. She was the doll of the crew, an always smiling bright spot in a world that could be very bleak. And it also reminded men what they where fighting for, all the beautiful girls of the world. It was base, in a way, but a primal inspiration that cunning leaders had exploited throughout time. Anyone who could not see the value of a female operator on the end of the line for combat pilots clearly had checked out of humanity long ago.
Not that any of this was going through Stella's head. No, the bubbly girl had but one thing on her mind. A string of words, coveted by women everywhere. A chain of but eight symbols with significance beyond their humble size. The thing which mankind had spent thousands of years trying to crystallize and physically manifest through art, sculpture, or many other means. All attempts had failed, for trying to capture the true essence of those three small words was like trying to move the earth
The hanger wasn't too crowded now in the early morning, the night staff having bet let not long ago, but the morning staff still trickling in. She was an oddity, fully awake and vibrant in her blue and white dress. It was not all that different from what she had worn six years ago, and it still floated and danced with her. She shifted through the legs of her own mobile suit, it's blue and white shield the only sign that when it's gray body was active it would turn a color to match her young woman's dress. The unit she had stolen from the Coordinators so long ago had been long dismantled and dissected, technology learned from and integrated into newer units. Not that her unit was all that new, but at four years old it was still in it's prime. The GAT-X110 Strikeforce matched the three others in the hanger; those of her fellow Extender pilots and the captain's, as well.
Auel watched, thoroughly amused. He was watching from the pilot's lounge, a small room that overlooked the hanger, with a perfect view of the amateur ballerina. He bit into an apple, synthetically grown in one of the sky-scraping vertical farms from the nearby waystation, a cluster of massive buildings. It was almost a parody of the old office life, each level of the building being used as an insulated and climate controlled farm facility. He chewed quickly, pausing only to turn to his 'brother' for a moment, his fellow Extended pilot who was reading a book, lounging back in one of the finely cushioned seats. "Eh, what's she bumbling about now, Sting?"
"He finally said it." was all he replied, the green-haired man not even looking up from his book as he spoke. Auel raised a quizzical eye. He pondered his brothers words, finally reaching a somewhat complete thought that ran for a conclusion in his mind. "The Captain? Said what?"
This did make Sting look up from his book, a blank stare saying all he wanted to his fellow Extended, and 'adopted brother.' Still childish, still lost, he simply shook his head and sighed. "Amazing that Stella became more adult then you."
Stella did not hear the loud argument this spawned between her brothers. The bubbly young woman remained in her own world, and she danced.
Neo, on the other hand, sat in their room. The sheets where pulled up around him, wrapped around his waist to cover up his noticeable lack of pants. He looked down at the pack of cigarettes in his hand, withdrawing one and bringing it to his lips. His other hand flicked the lighter, azure flame holding for a moment before he flicked it closed and tossed the cigarrete away without lighting it. Stella hated it when he smoked. He sighed, tossing the pack to join it's ill-fated brother in the trash bin. He was sighing, but he was smiling as well. He looked down at the mask resting next to him, recalling back to the day he woke up in that hospital, face covered in bandages. A single hand moved up to run across the spiderweb of scars that criss crossed his face.
Stella didn't care about his scars, or his past. Stella didn't care about anything, really. She was perhaps the most startling example of a free spirit he had ever encountered. Or, at least, remembered encountering. Regardless, she was unique in the world, something he found sorely lacking in his life. A complete and utter lack of purpose, and yet having the greatest purpose of all. Stella lived to live, she fought because she fought, and she did anything only now because it was just what she did. There was no overlying purpose, or plan. No great mystery to unravel, no xanatos gambit to run. Stella was. And Neo wanted so very much to simply be. Neo wished he was.
Instead, Neo plotted and planned and schemed and tricked and bartered and snuck and lied. Neo couldn't be. He never was. Always an angle, always a difference, always another step in a grand plan. He was a plotter, and a planner, and a schemer. He could no more change that then he could stop Stella from dancing. And nothing stopped Stella from dancing. Nothing stopped Stella at all when she truly wanted something. He still had trouble tracking how it was that he ended up here, in this place, with her. How that was injected into his plotting and scheming and planning out the blue one day. How as it she, or in truth any of the other Extended pilots entrusted to his care, had gone from pawns to partners. He let out another sigh. The captain looked up, eyes scanning the room as the hand fell away from his face.
The room was solid grey, for the most part, each piece of furniture built in to the walls or floor, a single molded piece. It was polymer, almost entirely so. Where it wasn't polymer, it was something else coated in polymer. There where certain areas that had one kind of polymer coated in another polymer. It was resistant to wear, and it was cheap, which is why despite it's rather drab appearance it could be found almost universally in the items used by the Earth Alliance. However, it's somewhat dull apperance did little to brighten any days. Some had blamed the chronic rash of suicides and depression after long stints on such vessels as perhaps related to this drab and dull atmosphere. A report came back saying that the cost of treatment and lawsuit settlement still came out less then the cost So it stayed. Neo hated it.
But the Bonaparte was one of a kind. Other Hannibal class vessels existed, but the Bonaparte's was the only that held a powerful fission reactor and the Neutron Jammer Canceller it work. That technology was rare, and after ZAFT had dropped even more N-Jammers to earth during the war they had become even more valuable. It meant that at least his small contingent of forces didn't have to rely on the Junk Guild to keep running. This was a unique boon. The Junk Guild held a monopoly on many of the high technologies people used to take for granted. The waystations served as bastions for humanity, though. After all, in a world where the wold had gone to hell, and everything was one big junkyard, who better then the Junk Guild to take charge.
Neo stood to pull on his black uniform, the same one he had worn for nearly six years. Six years of plotting, and planning, and scheming. He donned the mask before stepping out. In all the time, he had found very few answers.
But at least he had found Stella. And from Stella, he found eight letters, and three words.
Aboard the Lesseps class (refit) "Goethals", middle of the Pacific, June 5th, CE 0079
"Andrew, this is the most pensive I've ever seen you." Masquerade said, face and emotions radiating concern over the situation. Of course, seen was perhaps inaccurate, given his XO, the legendary Andrew Waltfeld, was actually standing behind him. The former Desert Tiger held a cup of coffee in one hand, white steam rising as the aroma filled the planning room. Masquerade, captain of the Goethals and almost mythical figure of the vessel, was hunched over the large digital map table. The table cast up a green glow in the dimly lit room, a map of North and Central America taking up the majority of the flat screen. The captains finger traced lines across the surface, different pressures and combination of fingers forming various symbols and routes as he did. The technology was truly remarkable, and yet remarkably intuitive as well. Coordinators had a way with such things.
Andrew stepped forward, eying the map and tracing the various route the captain was proposing. He frowned, "Ah, you know how I feel already, I know, but I'd feel better for my own conscience by getting it out there. I'm concerned your proposed goal is going to bring us into undue danger. I know you have a habit of predicting. Some of the crew say you can see the future. And I've not doubted you yet..."
"But you wonder when my luck will run out. When I'll be wrong." the masked man said, looking up into Andrew's eyes as he did. "I ask myself that every time I ask anyone to do anything. But the answer, you see, is simple. Please do not misunderstand what I mean when I say this, but we must go because he while we have saved many people, in the end... this one will save us all."
Waltfeld simply smiled, "Eh, you've not made a bad turn yet... but why this guy. Last I checked, though, wasn't that green shirt closer?"
Now it was the captain's turn to smile."He'll come to us, without knowing it." was all he said, looking back down to the table as he did. Waltfeld shrugged and turned to leave, looking over his shoulder for a moment before he did. "You know, captain... Malchio would be proud of you."
When the captain turned to respond, Andrew was already gone. He paused for a moment, staring at the door before sighing.
"Thank you, Andrew... thank you."
Ruins of Boston, Massachusetts, North America, June 5th, CE79
Lunamaria landed heavy on the top of the building, hoping dearly that it would hold as she leveled a pair of high-power beam cannons on the foe. The building, some sort of office building at one time, was crumbling, but it seemed stable enough for at least one shot. As the targeting reticule lowered into place, jumping circles on the screen, she cursed how long the damn thing took. And also that these stupid enemies wouldn't just hold still for one moment and let her blow them away. How inconsiderate to turn down a lady's request. Lunamaria let a smug grin cross her face as the circles fell into place. Twin lances of incandescent energy flared towards the foe. Lunamaria could taste the sweet taste of victory.
Which was dashed as the mobile suit launched itself into the beams, strange back-mounted barrier absorbing the impacts. The only result, in the end, was a rather nice lightshow.
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa... that's not fair! That's not fair at all!" the female pilot said, suit slacking a bit as she stared in disbelief. Disbelief which led to lingering a bit to long on the unstable building which began to creak and quake with age. As the enemy mobile suit rushed in, beam submachine gun spitting out fire the entire thing finally collapsed down, plumes of smoke and dust shooting out from it as each level began to impact on another, collapsing like a concrete and steel accordian. Lunamaria's resultant scream was more in anger then fear. Why her? Why was it always her?
"Luna!" was all that her fellow pilot, one Shinn Asuka, said as he launched himself at the enemy who had assulted his not so long-suffering lover. His personal ZAKU lashing out with twin "Excalibur" anti-ship swords. His mobile suit was fast, but the swords where slow, and the strike was clumsy. The enemy mobile suit nimbly dodged, launching itself back. It impacted heavy, sliding back in one of the city streets. Water churned as he moved, the murky brown flood water reaching up to the mobile suit's knees. It raised it's weapon with a two handed grip and took aim at Shinn. It was at this point that he finally realized just what he'd been fighting.
"Hyperion G!" he shouted, recalling the rather tedious report documents they'd all been ordered to memorize not long ago. The design was silhouetted in his mind now as he recalled it's capabilities. The Hyperion G had been constructed by the Eurasian Federation, twelve units produced in the first batch. The second set had never been finished, however, after a piece of the Junius Seven colony struck near the facility and destroyed it. And after the final collapse of governments, the Hyperion G units became part of the Phantom Pain organization that took hold of the Earth Alliance remnants. The mobile suits where seized and redistributed, forming four groups of three mobile suits. One unit, the one that the Zodiac Specialist's found themselves fighting, was stationed in the northeastern sector of North America, stationed on the mobile base Bonaparte.
The mobile suit was a mass-production variant of the earlier Hyperion units, utilizing a downsized version of the Umbrella of Artemis lightwave barrier. While the original prototype could form a full 360 degree barrier, these lesser units had only a single flat barrier. However, that single barrier was still more then adequate in most situations. The unit was also prodigiously armed, with an array of beam weaponry and machineguns which made it more then a match for most mobile suits. It was for this reason that Phantom Pain most often used them as an enforcer unit, rather then a main line force. Their units where too valuable, too hard to repair, and damn near impossible to replace. Thus, much to the chagrin of the Hyperion G pilots, they'd gone from a special forces unit to the cleanup crew. Shinn could imagine they where enjoying themselves, then. A chance at a real fight, for once.
But they had not been lucky, despite what they thought. Shinn pushed his unit forward, thrusters flaring and sending it careening into the foe. His two-sword overhead blow impacted with tremendous force. Although it had impacted the foe's lightwave barrier the force still sent the enemy reeling. The ground shuddered and quaked, water rippling as the Hyperion unit hit the ground heavy. A cold grin crossed Shinn's face as he raised his swords for the final blow. In his vengful rage he failed to notice the second Hyperion slide into a firing position to his left, a block away from the customized ZAKU. It's back-mounted beam cannon lined up and flared to life.
The flash of light was blinding, the shock wave was terrifying, and for a short few seconds, Shinn Asuka thought he was dead. But a familiar voice dragged him back to reality. His eyes openned to find an orange-painted GOUF to his right, shield raised. "Ok, Lunamaria, I take it back. Shinn, perhaps you should be less reckless." Heine said with a smug grin, no malice in the words. The second Hyperion unit dispersed as a barrage of beams began to rain down around it. Lunamaria had recovered from the building and was bringing her weapons to bear while Rey's high-mobility ZAKU provided covering fire for Heine and Shinn. The Hyperion that Shinn had been assaulting has slipped away through the winding streets, causing shit to grit his teeth in frustration. His ZAKU shot off after the enemy.
"Heh, so much for that..." was all Heine had to say, turning his shield-mounted beam gatling on the second Hyperion who joined it's comrade in retreating through the streets. The third unit, perched some distance away on one of the ruined buildings began to lay down it's own suppressive volley as the others began to fall back. The three regrouped, laying down a few more bursts on the Zodiac pilots before making it very clear they where falling back. Their goal had been completed, after all. The two Irregulars had been destroyed early in the fighting by crossfire between the two forces, and it seemed the Hyperion G's superiors where not so keen on letting their precious suits get trashed here.
The Zodiac Specialists regrouped on top of a stable parking garage, watching the Hyperion units disappear over the horizon.
"Was it wise to let them go?" Rey asked in a tone which said that he clearly felt it wasn't.
"Eh, we we're just supposed to find out what they where doing. No need to complicate things, I say." was Heine's reply, the de facto team leader lounging back in his cockpit. Meanwhile, Shinn simply watched with impotent rage as the units left, but said nothing. Why should he? It wouldn't make any difference. He'd just destroy them the next time he had the chance. And next time he wouldn't let his guard down, either. The pilot kicked himself mentally for that rookie mistake. He couldn't be like that. He was supposed to be better then that. He was better then that. He was.
Lunamaria sat silent as well, eyes locked on her lover's unit. Shinn was so devoted, and yet so reckless. She worried about him each time they went out, wondering when his luck would finally run out. She wished he would realize how much it hurt her to see him rush off without a concern. But she was beginning to feel that was a lost cause. She had fallen for Shinn a long time ago, and he for her. But that didn't mean she had to like everything about him, nor excuse his thoughtlessness. Still, a part of her warmed at the thought it was her danger which inspired him, in a way. It was a small thing. And these days, Lunamaria lived for small things.
Shinn's unit suddenly shifted, monoeye sliding to track a subtle movement to the west. A Strike Dagger unit, heavily damaged and painted a solid red emerged some distance away, heading off away from the city. "Another one!"
"Let him go, Shinn. Check the markings, he's not with Pain. Freelancer, of some sort."
Shinn's suit remained in an aggressive stance despite Rey's words. He stared as the unit retreated over the horizon.
Outskirts of Boston, Massachusetts, North America, June 5th, CE79
Hallelujah, his prayer's were answered. As Launo pushed his long-suffering mobile suit towards one of the smaller Junk Guild run support centers that dotted the landscape. He'd head for the "Serenity" waystation after a decent nights rest and some patchwork repairs to at least let the suit get there. Of course, it was likely to collapse the moment it did, but hopefully he could find a replacement with the funds he . He glanced down at the metal briefcase tucked next to his seat and scowled. So much trouble for that stupid thing. As the terrain raced by he began to wonder just what was so special about it. The briefcase was simple enough, locked with some sort of hardcore magnetic latch with an attached explosive. It wasn't a military grade lock, nor even a government lock. That was something else, in his time as a freelancer he'd not seen anything quite like it.
However, he highly doubted the briefcase was desired because of it's peculiar locking mechanism.
He had been lucky to slip out of the city at all. The Hyperion units had been focused, at least, on the out of line Irregulars. They'd engaged hard and fast, wasting the Long Dagger within moments of their arrival. It had been a brutal image, one that Launo was not keen to remember. The cockpit burst in flames, pilot leaping out half-charred into the water. It hadn't saved him, of course. What the fires had started, the 15 meter drop had finished. The Buster Dagger hadn't faired much better, though it's pilot never got the escape attempt. Safe to say that the Hyperion's beam cannon was quite effective at slagging Dagger armor.
He shook the thoughts from his head as the support center came into view, a small compound of 20 meter concrete and a single massive structure, a rectangular box with various extensions built off it. His IFF registration code registered as soon as he came in view, improvised turret emplacements swinging off from him as he approached.
"Ah, Mr. Denman. Welcome to Support Center NW03..2... oh, you get it. Welcome back, hun." said a soft voice, causing Launo to smile wide. Karen was on duty as operator. Sweet lil' Karen. He rather liked her, she was a very down to earth sort of girl, which was amusing given she had been born on the moon. "Looking for a patch job, Karen. And a room."
"Yeah, I can see that. Hun, what have you been up to this time? I can smell the wear of your joints from here!" she said, her middle aged face appearing on his screen soon after, bright and beaming.
"You know me, Karen, all work and no play."
This brought a chuckle to Karen, who nodded and grinned in a way that said she knew otherwise. She punched in a few keys on the console in front of her, openning one of the hanger doors for him. The same buttons sent his key through a vacuum tube, "Bay three, key for your room is waiting there too. You know the drill."
"Sure thing, Karen." he said, his hands deftly handling the quite sluggish controls towards the bay. The structure was lined with hanger bay doors, all motorized and linked to a central computer hub. Most of the tools, arms, and whatnot in the hanger where the same way. Even if he had the money for a full overhaul he couldn't get it done here. He'd need to go to a waystation for that. But anything up to that point was a trifle to the experienced techies at most support centers. They'd overhaul it too, if they could, but it was a lack of tools and parts rather then skill on that front. Launo rode the boarding wire down, briefcase in hand. He picked up his key from the vacuum tube and headed for the residential areas.
He took one last glance down at the briefcase and sighed. He really hoped this damn thing was worth it.
Technical Update:
Model number: CAT1-XG-/12
Code name: Hyperion G
Unit type: mass production ground use mobile suit
Manufacturer: Earth Alliance (Eurasian Federation)
Operator: Earth Alliance (Eurasian Federation); Phantom Pain (Hyperion Unit)
First deployment: CE 73
Accommodation: pilot only, in standard cockpit in torso
Dimensions: head height 16.9 meters
Weight: max gross weight 49.3 metric tons
Powerplant: ultracompact energy battery, power output rating unknown
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: 39,300 kg, 2 x 14,550 kg; vernier thrusters/apogee motors: 15
Performance: maximum thruster acceleration: 1.38 G; maximum ground running speed: 105 km/h;
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 32000;
Fixed armaments: 2 x "Igelstellung" 75mm multi-barrel CIWS, fire-linked, mounted in head; "Armure Lumiere" mono-phase lightwave shield, can be used as arm-mounted shield or 360 degree barrier, also doubles as beam spear, mounted on back; "Forfanterie" beam cannon, mounted on backpack, internal magazine fed, 5 rounds + 1 in the chamber, positioned over right shoulder in use; 5 x RBW Type 7001 "Romteknica" beam knife, mounted on main body, powered by rechargable battery; GAU-8M2 52mm machine gun, mounted on backpack, positioned over right shoulder in use;
Optional hand armaments: RFW-99 "Zastava Stigmate" beam sub-machine gun, mounts RBW Type 7001 "Romteknica" beam knife, magazine-fed, 50 rounds per magazine;
In January C.E. 71, the Atlantic Federation's first line of mobile suits entered the battlefield following the ZAFT attack on the Heliopolis space colony. Soon after, the GAT-X105 Strike Gundam is briefly captured and held at the Eurasian Federation space fortress Artemis. Not wanting to be left behind, the Eurasian Federation launches its own mobile suit development program, which produces three prototype Hyperion Gundam units. Although visually similar to the Atlantic Federation's mobile suits, the Hyperion Gundam's systems and armaments differ. The Hyperion Gundam lacks the Atlantic Federation's Phase Shift armor technology, but it compensates with the "Armure Lumiere" mono-phase lightwave shield system.
Later on, the Eurasian Federation made an effort to mass-produce the unit, similar to what the Atlantic Federation had done with the Dagger series of mobile suits. The result was the Hyperion G, a ground use mobile suit which used a slimmed version of the Armure Lumiere lightwave barrier. The rest of the armaments remained nearly identical to the parent unit for the exception of the addition of a back mounted machinegun for additional firepower. An initial run of 12 units where constructed and shipped out for testing. However, during the Break of the World, the facility was destroyed, scuttling the plans to mass produce the design in the face of the much cheaper and already common Dagger series of mobile suits.
Model number: ZGMF-1001/M2
Code name: High Maneuver ZAKU Phantom
Unit type: high mobility assault mobile suit
Manufacturer: Zodiac (Zodiac Mobile Suit Arsenal Developments)
Operator: Zodiac (Zodiac Specialists, North American)
First deployment: C.E. 77
Accommodation: pilot only, in standard cockpit in torso
Dimensions: head height 17.9 meters
Weight: max gross weight 81.5 metric tons
Powerplant: ultracompact energy battery, power output rating unknown
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: 33,500 kg, 2 x 23,000 kg; lightwave pulse thrusters: 2 x 64,000 kg; vernier thrusters/apogee motors: 27
Performance: maximum thruster acceleration: 2.55 G; maximum ground running speed: 105 km/h; maximum ground hovering speed: 215 km/h;
Equipment and design features: sensors, 29000 meters; hardpoints for mounting Wizard packs
Fixed armaments: 2 x MA-M8 beam tomahawk, stored inside shields, hand-carried in use; 4 x hand grenade (ZR30F fragmentation grenade, ZR20E high explosive grenade, ZR271 thermite incendiary grenade, ZR11Q flash grenade, ZR13Q smoke grenade), stored on hip armor; 2 x shield, mounted on shoulders;
Optional fixed armaments: 2 x M68 "Pardus" 3-barrel missile launcher, mounted on legs
Optional hand armaments: MMI-M633 beam assault rifle, powered by replacable battery, 2 extra battery per shield; M68 "Cattus" 500mm recoilless rifle, magazine-fed, 6 rounds per magazine + 1 in the chamber; MMI-M8A3 76mm heavy assault machine gun, magazine-fed, 100 rounds per magazine
Following the first war between the Earth Alliance and ZAFT, the Junius Treaty places restrictions on the mobile suit forces of both sides. With a new focus placed on quality over quantity, ZAFT develops a "New Millennium" series of mobile suits such as the ZGMF-1000 ZAKU Warrior and the ZGMF-1001 ZAKU Phantom. Whereas the ZAKU Warrior is meant for the average pilot, the ZAKU Phantom is reserved for aces and commanders. The ZAKU Phantom is equipped with two spiked shields, each of which houses a beam tomahawk. The ZAKU Phantom is also armed with four grenades and a beam rifle, but its armament can be further specialized through the use of interchangeable Wizard packs. These Wizard packs are also compatible with the ZAKU Warrior.
One such Wizard was designed and constructed on Earth using a combination of new and reengineered parts taken from a number of sources, most notably the ZGMF-1017M GINN High Maneuver Type. The /M2 High Maneuver Wizard mounted a pair of powerful lightwave thrusters, as well as mounted a pair of Pardus missile launchers taken from a GINN mobile suit. The result was an extremely fast mobile suit capable of skimming the ground or performing high mobility stunts as a result. The pack was not favored by pilots, however, and has found relatively little use outside particular aces, such as the Zodiac Specialists, North American pilot Rey Za Burrel.
Next Phase: Shinn Asuka's ZGMF-1001/D Dilettante ZAKU Phantom and Neo Roanoke's GAT-X110 Strikeforce Gundam
Terminology:
Waystation A large fortress, city, and base constructed by the Junk Guild, and centered around a group of nuclear reactors. Usually the size, if not bigger, then many of the old American large cities, Waystations are the central hubs of humanity on the planet, providing a safe haven from the harsh outside world. Crime is nearly non-existent, due to the threat of being banned from every waystation and settlement run and protected by the Junk Guild. Usually, the waystations form a sort of spire, with smaller buildings on the outside growing larger as the interior is reached, with a massive hundred or more story tower at it's very center. The outer walls are truly massive, both in height and girth. Waystations have massive population density, due to going up rather then out. The Waystation in the Northeast sector of North America is known as "Serenity" and is located near the ruins of Washington, DC.
Support Center Located between waystations, the support centers are located most often in rare 'blind spots' of Neutron Jammer coverage which allows them to make use of smaller reactors. They form a support system for freelancers and other survivors who spent time away from the waystations.
Junk Guild General term for formerly loosely affiliated group of freelance techs, which became more organized after the Break of the World. The only major organization to survive, they took the forefront, becoming an effective world power. Controls all the Waystations, which it built, and regulates the actions of most other groups, though endorsing none.
Phantom Pain Though at once the elite wing of the Earth Alliance which was controlled by Logos, Phantom Pain has become the open term for the remnant of the Alliance military which have slowly been reorganizing. Well armed and equipped, they lack the ability to operate widely without the Junk Guild, which hinders their actions, at least for now. They are broken into sectional authorities, abet with a far looser chain of command then pre-Break. They use a large number of loosely affiliated pilots known as Irregulars, which are often the force that gives Phantom Pain their bad reputation, or at least a worse one.
Zodiac Much like Phantom Pain, Zodiac is the remnant forces of ZAFT and their Earth-based allies which have become slowy better armed and organized over time. However, they are limited with suits, though possessing more land battleships and other units that give them a better logistical side. However, due to their lack of pilots, they too lack the ability to make a major power grab. They have a number of small elite teams known as the Zodiac Specialists. Many of the crew of the Minerva are now part of the Zodiac Specialists, North American.
