CHAPTER I

EMPTY

What is Light? Some state that it's visible electromagnetic radiant. Others motion to the Sun, Moon and Stars – Celestial Bodies that reaches a certain temperature, shine in various stages of brightness. And a few put you in front of a mirror.

Then what is Dark? Some define that it's the absence of light, or black in colored space. Others point to the sky - that is what you see every night and to feel it creeps into you. And a few would say that it's you.

But is there any different between Light and Dark to a blind one? And aren't we all are?

The walking posture could tell you a lot about a person. Then, what could we say about Maya Yamada, Second Lieutenant of the Earth Federation Forces? Her head was bowed down, wanting to hide her stand-out green head. Short, quick steps, but her feet trembled for a split second whenever they landed. For every minute, she readjusted her glasses, tugged her collar, or another meaningless gesture.

In short, the First Lieutenant was an unready person. There was diffident behind every of her action. The same as with her sense of duty. Maybe that was why she landed on this backwater position. A murky one, also. However, to her nature, Maya didn't make a single exasperated thought, instead finding the good things that came with her position. Like meeting a certain aloof and moody Commander, for instance.

"What is waiting for us this time?" She crunched over and over again all available information, but there was no output. "It isn't like we are kept in the blue for the first time, but I wonder what caused Orimura-san to be so tight-lipped?"

So deep in thought that only when Maya realized her fellows officers stares on her did her snapped out from the daze. She quickly resumed her "professional looks" – or what was she thought it was. To others, she was like a clumsy child in that black uniform.

"Maya Yamada, reporting for duty!"

Her commander, Lt. Orimura Chifuyu, simply nodded in acknowledgement. A person in her late 20s, she gave out the impression of a proud cheetah: tamed, but scarcely so and without its consent. Even the trained soldiers felt dwarfed before her.

As Maya scurried to her place, she took a quick around. The only other occupants in the room was a pair of girls, both looked like they hadn't passed 20. The first was sitting on the left of the commander, her gaze fixed on Orimura. It was a mix of anticipation, anxious, pride, and even a bit of disdainful. However, hardness of battlefield hadn't wiped out entirely the stubborn of childlessness on the face. The last one was a soldier of Caucasian origin, a stark contrasts to her fellow Asian officers, She seemed more concern on fidgeting her golden locks of hair with a arrogant smirk. In front of her was a small folded table, the porcelain tea set glimmered in this dim-lit room.

When everything was in place, the Lieutenant began her speech:

"This is our objective, Doctor Kamille Bidan." The LED screen flashed with the image of a young man with rare green hair. Maya noted that his eyes were a beautiful deep blue, but behind them, there was a wavering sadness. He had seen things, not only from the view of his profession.

"Recently, Dr. Bidan has made some important breakthrough in the field of Newtype. However, that also make him a valuable asset. It was informed to us that a special detachment of the Republic army is preparing to kidnap him in Von Braun, where there would be a big scientific convention in the next few days. It's our mission to protect him, and if we can't, dispose of him."

A swift, full of proficiency, no emotion attached briefing – She acted in a really fitting manner of an ECOAS officer. And to her subordinates' nonchalant expression, it seemed that this was not the first time they had been giving order like this.

"Permission to speak, sir!"

"What is it on your mind, Shinonono?" Houki brushed aside a few strands that were left out of the ponytail, revealing a stern and questioning gaze.

"Wouldn't it be more practical to take Dr. Bidan into custody? And why are we on this low-priority mission?"

"His friends are on high places, and the doctor has already refused our offer of protection. Thus, we're left with no choice but to work from the dark. And for your second question…"

"I'll not participate in this mission!" Said the blondie. Her voice, while regal and refined as it was, held a tone haughty of that chased people away . "This assignment does not require Cecillia Alcott's service."

A straight refusal to a direct order. But instead of a rebuff or threat of court-martialled, the Lieutenant plainly replied:

"Suit yourself. But need I remind you that Full Frontal was last spotted on the moon?"

This immediately picked up everyone's attention. Ah, so this was why they were here, moving full speed toward Von Braun. Wherever the Sleeves were, they were there to haunt them. Especially if the chief of Republic of Zeon Special Operations Command was there.

"… I may reconsider it… And the bounty?"

"5 million, Death or Alive. Just drag him here without being the one to be dragged first." The light of greed flashed behind august irises.

"Well, then, I retract my previous statement and will gladly contribute my part to our victory!" Cecilia happily exclaimed before went back to her afternoon (or morning – time is ambiguous on space) tea.

The fact that this conversation went on and witnessed by straight faces (save for an annoyed grunt of Houki) means that their resident sniper's demeanor was part of the norm.

A doctor, the Second coming of Char, and a squad of black uniforms – None looked bright for Maya Yamada. But hey, so was her future career prospect!

Von Braun – the "City on a Pan" as it was called – sat on Sea of Tranquility, near the landing point of Apollo 11. Its antecedent was a joint research center sponsored by the now-defunct United Nations, hence it was named for German rocket scientist Wernher Von Braun. The arrangement, down to the corners, strictly followed algebra rules. All for the sake of practicality. However, some argue that its wide roads, square blocks and glassed buildings brought no food for imagination. But there were still a few things that draw people to this place.

You could see the the image of an city reflected through its street markets. Then, the people of Von Braun must be really proud of their famous annually one-week Victoria Bazaar: Goods and people from all corners of the Earth Federation came here: From Earth spices to Moon wool and Mars gems; black, white and yellow lumped together. They smiled of a successful trade, teared to the jokes of jesters, or grunted in pain for chowing down burning hot delicate. The crowd was so big that the authorities permitted to with close all road leading to Victoria street to motorized transportation during the market days – even so, since the was hundred thousand people stuffed in an area less than three hectares, it was near impossible to moving unscathed from one end to the other through this condensed mass.

That was also Maya's situation. Her back sore of bumped to others, while her hands, holding tight her small purse, were wet of sweet – Since taking the first step here, she had been almost mugged five times. Even so, she still acted like a ball, bouncing between vendors

"Yamada-san, concentrate!" Houki's irritate voice came from the comm, reminded her of the recon mission: Victoria road was once of the many that led to Sheraton Luna Hotel (an archaic brand name that was bought by Anaheim), and the most likely to be used as an escape road.

"But it's my first time here!" Maya whined. She crossed into one canvas that sold souvenirs and picked up a mirror. Realized that it was made from scavenged Zaku's armor, she murmured in admiration the sophisticated of ingenious decorations carved onto plain steel frame. Looking around, this store must be one true war museum: There were flower vases from empty Type 81's shell, combs made of shot down Tin Cod, visors of GM remelted into tesserae for mosaics, and all sort of stuff that one part of war machines, now served a more casual purpose.

And that was not the only reminders of past and ongoing wars. The merchants, while still looking gay, had not been very prosperous with their trade. A lot of passerby could only bat a wistful-look at their goods. Everyone's attires were more dragged, and their eyes revolved in suspicions to every strangers. The children, also shared their parents' misfortunes, were scrawny, grubby and emure. Here and their, Maya spotted policeman patrolling with their Glock 23 Gen 4.

"Houki-chan, you shouldn't wear like that! People will get notice!" Image of Houki reflected crystal clear on the surface, down to her scowling brows. Instead of Maya's more casual attire (A simple pair of pant and shirt), Houki enclosed herself in a thick black hoodie that arose suspicious, But again, you could find all stuff of person on this street.

"Like you're the one to talk…" Truth, men had got their eyes glued to Maya when she got here. An army of them was literary tailing and ogling her assets. She, like a child, was simply obvious to that.

"And stop adding 'chan'!"

"But it's cute!"

Her rant continued for a few minutes before Houki realized that her second commander was more concerned on haggling with a black Arabian man on the price of the mirror. She changed the topic to one related to her fellow officer:

"Where do you think Cecilia is?" Before this, the blonde had told them to "handle the commoners" themselves. Normally, she would jumped on a chance like this, showing off her adept on the business.

Both of them turned their head to the center of the city, where most of the skyscrapers resided. That must be their imagination, but was that a sole shining spot that they had just seen in front of a beer board?

"She must be searching for a suitable position." True, the aristocrat girl had a fastidious sense of picking the perfect spot to snipe, same as with finest cut of jewelry. "Cecilia-chan is dead set on capturing him, isn't she?"

Answered her by only an annoyed 'Hum', Houki to split up with her companion to cover more ground. Too busy to be amazed by the vendors that Maya accidentally bumped into another female minutes latter. Short black hair spiralled out from the hat. As she hurriedly picked it up, the greennet saw a small golden locket on the person's chest.

"Sorry! I'm so… Huh, where is her?" Before Maya could had returned the object, its owner had already lost between sea of pedestrians. She examined the hat: A worn out red beret made out of fine wool (she couldn't find a single spot of frayed.) Put it on her head, and she realized that it was made for a child.

"What a shame. Such a good one…" The hat was shove to the bottom of her purse, and they continued their mission.

Looked from above, all looked like chess pieces to her. Only from here that Cecilia recognized the strategic arrangement of Von Braun: It was feasible to quickly move the troops (Which were stationed on all four direction of the city) from one side to another. The main streets were big enough for MS to move, and after one ring of resistance was down, the defender could move to the inner one with higher ground.

The dry cool air brushed through her cheeks. Not so windy, and September sun was not so scorching, thus she could took aim in less than one second.

In the posture of a hawk-eyed hunter, Cecilia carefully examined the area 2 km radius around her standing. The Hotel was on the rear of the business district, facing a lake on the North. The main entrance was on the South, and it was currently crammed with commuters going home after a hard day. From her place on West, in front of a giant Budweiser sign, Cecilia could only got a glimmer of the conference room through her scope. Her view was slightly obscured by the veils.

"27th floor… 5 minutes to bug out, minus one if they're professionals, or security is flimsy."

Imagine the familiar weight and feel of her M14 EBR on the arm, she adjusted her position in looking for an appropriate view. Finally decided that she would moved down one or two floors, Cecilia then began to pack up and called it a day.

"Oh, what is this?"

She had overlooked a small alley, about 10 minutes driving from the hotel. It was blocked on on end by a constructed site, surrounded by corrugated steel sheets. The road inside was being dug up, but no worker was on sight. However, Cecilia brushed it away, thinking that the construction had been halted due to the market. It was a death end anyway.

"Wonder how does commander fare with her part?"

Von Braun, like all city, was divided into concentric circles. The closer to the center of it, the more prestigious yours standing in society was. We has just seen the middle one of them, where most of the middle class lived. Now, please move our eyes a bit further to the West.

The citizens of "Beltline", another name of the outer rim, had no reason to complain about their rulers. Pacifist as they were, an agreement was reached and the neighbor was divided into independence turfs with their own undisputed administrators. Just as they were, courts were replaced with a more personal branch of 'Justice', Lynch. Benevolent as they were, those otherworldly pleasures were sold by packets in preferential price. Liberty as they were, all form of commercial were accepted, as long as you pay the taxes. Full of equality as they were, the fixed rate of 10% was applied to each and every transaction. Religious as they were, the church welcomed them every weekend, bringing a goat with golden fleeces, or in some particular day, one of own their flesh and blood to the sacrifice stone.

This was a place where Second Amendment became First Priority. This was a place where radio stations broadcasted word of promise of Eden for zealous Crusaders of Drugtendom, and Mary appeared between grey smoke. This was a place where the Olive Branches were handled to the ones who dare. This was the Free World, in all of its glory.

A particular Haven for all those poor, rejected souls was bar "Albion", famous with both Federation and Zeon troops alike. What make this frowzy, rundown place so attracted? It carried the same air of nonchalant as its customers. Between for black sooth brick walls, they drank rum or vodka in these cracked mugs, as well as stories of the pasts. Some were about glories, more about losses, and all were sad. They came, burned the little money and much time that they had left, before going back to their dens with souls empty as wallets.

On one afternoon, the bar was full – it was a market day. However, crammed as it was, everything was still kept in a tranquil – A word rarely associate with pubs. But like these dusty glasses and bottles that the owners didn't give a slightest though, everyone seemed asleep. Rosewood furniture helped to absorb light out of the air, and the lamps put more shadow than to lit. The only audible sounds were heavy breath of drunken, sometime interrupted by prattles.

Suddenly, their slumber was interrupted by a new face. They dimmed their eyes, only to be then wide open in the features of a female. She was beautiful, yes, but also had been honed by hardship. That black coat, raptor-like look, and confident strides of commanding persona: she was a mystery.

However, these men were soldiers, and they immediately recognized one of their kin. Bird of a feather, these eyes, as much as their owner want to hide it, simply existed, not live. Existed only to be questioned by a big Why? Why continue this meaningless survival?

Whispers soon calmed down, and when the stranger took a seat on a creaking stools, everything had already turned silent.

"Grappa"

"Wrong place." Answered the mustached bartender. The man might look old, but his eyes like fish in a bowl.

"And I thought it's my lucky day. Bourbon with ice, then. Make it hot with fire." The request might seemed strange, but the man took it normally. Under his palm, a blue fire ignited and extinguished within seconds.

"The weather's terrible, isn't it?" Taken the glass, she slowly savor the rye taste. However, her face immediately changed to a displeased expression.

"Not as bad as last year."

The women couldn't even finished her glass – it was terrible. With a grouchy face, she slammed a 10 dollar note on the bar. The bartender, still unfazed, counted change on with his sinewy index finger. However, none could saw that he secretly inserted a small envelope between the bills, or the brief contact of their eyes.

Someone suddenly grabbed the woman's wrist. It was a man with unshaven beard, droplets of rum still on it and the tomato nose. His grin, obscene as it was, showing sharpened tooth like a rabid dog.

"Going so soon, senorita? Beauty, why don't we continue…" Before he could finished the sentence, a powerful slap hit him. The sound of the ruckus once again awoke everyone, and all eyes on the woman whose face showed no emotion before the rolling pile of rags in front of her.

"You bitch!" The man staggeringly rose on his feet, swearing in both English and Spanish with a Texan accent. The shape of a palm was marked on his burn hot face.

His figure was formidable: 6 ft tall, veins popped out all over his sweaty, bronze-like muscle, and hands that could easily wrestle with a bear. These same hands now raised up, ready to unleash his rage on the woman, but only to be stopped by another one.

"John, you're drunk. Stop shaming yourself and go home."

"Who do you think you're, Sander?" The tanned man, referred as "Sander", could only shook her head tiredly and instead slammed his elbow on his friend's nape, making him immediately fell into unconsciousness.

"He usually isn't… Hey, where is her?" Like a wind, the women had waltzed her way out between this huddle, leaving everyone wondered about the mystery face.

"Monsha, give me a Bacardi! I need to think!"

"Report!" After one long day doing recon, everyone had returned to the dim-lit room. Dust covered them from heads to toes, and all bore various degree of exhaustion.

"Sir, we've scouted all the possible route, and none is possible for an easy escape. The convention is going to happen on another market day, which makes it difficult to move from the hotel to any of the ports."

"And also easy to blend in." The screen flickered with Chifuyu's laser pen. "They've been preparing in the Beltline."

The sole image, seemed to had been secretly captured through a spy camera from a higher place, consisted of men moving crates into a warehouse. The laser focused on three men, seemed to be overseeing the operation, their faces obscured by light.

"The heads of Colombian cartel, Triad and Yakuza standing together. It's bound to happen, but what and when?"

A few minutes for everyone to ponder the information before Chifuyu continued:

"In all cases, I fear that we might have come here to late. If only we had been sent here months ago…" She was interrupted by Cecilia:

"Why didn't the higher ups recognize this? And why all the fuss for a doctor"

"The last one, I've got no idea. Even the fact that Frontal managed to convince the mobsters to work together is astonishing. For you first question... Most likely that they overlooked this cases. Smuggling is an everyday thing in the Beltline. Or they're confidence that a bunch of criminals won't be able to do much…. Either ways, since the news of Full Frontal, Londo Bell has been mobilized. They're going to arrive in two day."

"The convention also happen in that day!" A bit of a reassurance, but Maya's clairvoyant sense once again confirmed that they would be too late.

"Yes, and that will be their only chance to escape. What we've to do now is simply continue our mission as planned. Maya, Cecilia, Houki, I want everything ready by tomorrow. Do you understand?" The Lieutenant concluded her speech with a raised, demanding voice.

"YES, SIR!"