The giant behemoth continues!

Uh… really, not much to say here. I hope everyone's enjoying the crazy product of my (and others'!) mind… and enjoying seeing the characters we know and love in a completely different universe.

If so—or if not—please read and leave your comments. Comments nourish my soul :D

Yeah, I really don't know what to say. Um… well, we're on the verge of our first BIG EXPLOSIONS YAY battle. So that's pretty awesome.

Enjoy!

The Ties That Bind

Chapter Two

June 19, 4010

Calypso

Time passed, as it tended to do. The little boy who waited on the corner near his house every day grew taller, grew older, and there was a day where even he stopped waiting. The boy became a teenager, and found that the trials and tribulations of everyday life were slowly becoming more important to him than what lay among the stars.

Of course, in times of war, the two are not mutually exclusive. And as a young man of eighteen years old, there were nights when Phoenix Wright still found his gaze wandering up to the star-strewn sky…

-----

"Hey, Nick, pass me one of the red ones, would you?"

Larry Butz sat up in the deck chair he'd been reclining in, stretched (accompanied by an over-exaggerated yawn), and then returned to his prone, relaxed position, pushing the shaded glasses he was wearing further up along his nose. Next to him, seated in a similar chair, Phoenix Wright reached into the portable refrigeration unit they'd hauled up to Larry's house's roof, grabbed an ice-cold can of whatever cheap alcohol Larry'd decided to try this time, and tossed it over to his friend.

Phoenix sighed, lying back on the chair and holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun almost directly overhead. The two of them had just completed their government-mandated education a month ago, and were free to pursue their dreams. Forge their own futures, explore a sea of endless possibility, and all that jazz. So naturally, Larry and Phoenix had spent the past two weeks doing absolutely nothing but sit on the flat roof of Larry's house, looking up at the sun and the endless blue sky.

His excitable blond friend had thrown his shirt off to the side, exposing his skinny, gangly torso to the sun ("I gotta get a tan for the ladies, Nick!"). Phoenix, though, kept his clothes on, though his loose white shirt and cool blue shorts weren't exactly formal attire. As Odyssey (and therefore Calypso) were a bit farther from the system's sun than some of the other planets, it was normally quite cool on the large moon… but in the summer, it got as hot as it did almost anywhere else.

The spiky-haired young man looked up at the vast blue field above and sighed again. Sure, this was relaxing and enjoyable, but… he didn't finish the thought in his head, because for some reason, he couldn't. Something was needling him, something had been needling him for months, but he still couldn't put his finger on it.

There was a sound suddenly on the wind, a distant, far-off rumble that steadily grew louder. Slightly curious, Phoenix sat up and looked in the direction of the sound—down the large road that passed in front of Larry's house. It sounded like a vehicle, and sure enough, there was a cloud of dust in the distance that was almost certainly the wake of some sort of repulsor craft.

Slowly but surely, the cloud of dust resolved itself into one of the big, blocky troop transports that they'd called 'lunchboxes,' once upon a time. Phoenix shook his head, sighed a third time, and sank back into the deck chair. "I can't believe they're still staffing the base," he said with a shrug. The airbase—pretty much the Federation's last remaining hold in this region on Calypso—was a ways down the road, so the troops from the barracks often passed this way. Recently, the transports had been coming less and less frequently as it became crystal clear exactly which way the popular opinion leaned in the war.

Though it were only a matter of time before the Fusegi Alliance liberated the moon entirely, the troop carriers continued to come nonetheless.

Beside him, Larry sat up, took a sip of his beer and peered over his sunglasses at the approaching transport. He seemed to be thinking about something, and when he turned to Phoenix with that all-too-familiar look in his eyes, that suspicion was confirmed. His excitable friend stroked the stray hairs on his chin that were the beginning of what he claimed would end up being an 'awesome goatee' ("I gotta grow a beard for the ladies, Nick!").

"Whatever you're thinking, leave me out of it," Phoenix said, shaking his head.

Larry didn't look deterred. "Well, I was just thinking… it's summer, right? So they've got the roof open for ventilation, right? I was thinking that maybe I should go piss on 'em when they pass."

Phoenix looked at him, raising a black eyebrow—really, it said something about the average quality of Larry's plans that suggesting he go urinate on a truckload of trained soldiers didn't actually seem all that bad in comparison—but said nothing. Finally, with a frown, Larry crossed his arms in front of his chest and went back to sitting and drinking his beer. "You're no fun," he muttered.

Despite having dismissed his friend's apocalyptically bad idea, Phoenix did admit that his friend had raised an interesting point—the roof would be open for ventilation. Though it was really just a morbid curiosity, Phoenix found himself walking to the edge of the roof, looking down at the street below and waiting for the transport to pass. He wondered what he expected the Federation troops and pilots to look like, but nothing came to mind.

The troop carrier approached, and passed. The young man looked down at the soldiers in uniform sitting side-by-side in the vehicle… older, younger, all clad in identical military attire. Phoenix didn't really know what he'd been expecting, but clearly that wasn't it. He shook his head and started to return to his seat.

…wait.

Phoenix froze, having seen a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. Though he was nine years taller and more grown-up… though his hair was longer, tied back in a short ponytail… though he was wearing a Saiban Federation officer's uniform... the young officer seemed to be looking up at him, and their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before the 'lunchbox' continued on its way, its passengers hidden from sight.

It couldn't be.

The young man practically leapt off the roof onto the top of the porch below. The sun-baked tiles were blazing hot against his bare feet, though Phoenix didn't notice in his haste to reach the road below—but by the time he made it all the way down, the troop carrier was in the distance and only getting farther.

It couldn't be.

It had been nine years since they'd last met, his appearance had changed drastically, and Phoenix had only seen him for a split second—but somehow, he knew that the young soldier had been Miles Edgeworth.

"Nick! Nick…! What's up, Nick?!" Larry had taken the less-frantic route down through the house, though his shortness of breath demonstrated that he'd been hurrying too. "Dude, why'd you just flip out like that? …your face is white, man. What's up?"

It couldn't be.

At long last, Phoenix Wright found his voice. "…Edgeworth," he managed. "I saw Edgeworth."

Larry looked stunned, and then confused-if-skeptical. "Wait, in the Fed transport? You saw Edgey?! You're crazy. You must've seen wrong, Nick."

Phoenix shook his head emphatically, his hands balling into fists. "I'm positive. It was him. It was Edgeworth."

"But… even if it was him,"

"It was," interjected Phoenix.

"Why would he be with the Feds? It's Edgey, remember? His father grew up fightin' against them! That's not the Edgey we know! Why would he join up with them?"

Phoenix didn't have an answer for that, and admitted so. "I… I don't know," he said with a shrug. Could I have… could I really have seen wrong?

No. That was Miles Edgeworth. I'm sure of it.

"…but I'm going to find out."

November 4th, 4016, 0805 Ship's Time

In orbit around Muspel

They were heading out in just under an hour; Phoenix hadn't been told where… but he trusted Captain Fey and Commander Kaminogi to make the right choice. That's why she was the Captain, after all. He was last on patrol duty… but there was nothing coming. Phoenix Wright sat in the cockpit of his mech, surrounded by absolute silence and an infinity of stars in every direction.

…except for right in front of him, where the view was dominated by the giant scarlet orb of Muspel. The planet had its own legends and superstitions, but also its share of facts. A year ago, a flight group of eight Alliance mechs—not AI, mass-produced models either, but high-class models flown by skilled pilots—had been shot down in the atmosphere of the gas giant… at the hands of a single Federation soldier. That pilot's name—now legendary in some circles—had been Miles Edgeworth.

Edgeworth had been here, a year ago. Just like Edgeworth had been in that troop transport six years ago.

Phoenix was getting closer. Slowly, he was getting closer… and he knew that it would only be a matter of time until he met Miles Edgeworth once more.

-----

November 4th, 4016, 1723 Ship's Time

Yggdrasil

Though not as massive as its Sunward sibling, the second largest planet in the system was certainly an epic sight to behold in its own right. Whereas Muspel was a dark, bloody crimson almost uniform in hue, Yggdrasil was a sunburst of colors, its atmosphere comprised of multiple colorful bands. There was yellow, there was orange, there was red and black and a thousand different shades thereof within.

The large gas giant was encircled by a shimmering wreath, a wide yet thin golden band that glinted in the reflected sunlight off its parent planet. There were those who compared Yggdrasil's ring to a regal circlet—it was the king and the god of the system, orbiting the sun just beyond the blood-red hell that was Muspel.

There were dozens of planetoids in orbit beyond the golden crown of Yggdrasil that ranged in size from considerably large—a small planet, by some standards—to barely more than a glorified asteroid. There had been poets that had compared the planet's many moons to the courtiers of a king paying service to their liege.

In the empty space beyond the moons, there was suddenly a brief, brilliant spark of light. Within a heartbeat, a large military-white starship popped into existence where there had previously been nothing but vacuum. While poets might have been able to dream up florid, beautiful verse to describe the king of the solar system and its moons, the Kurain and her crew were there for a far more mundane reason.

Mia Fey sat in the large Captain's chair at the rear of her ship's bridge, her gaze fixed on the viewscreen that was the front wall of the medium-sized, rectangular room as the multi-colored orb of Yggdrasil came into view. She absentmindedly chewed on her bottom lip, the restless feeling deep within her breast suddenly growing more acute. Mia shook her head ever-so-softly, taking a deep breath and suppressing the uncertainty.

Yes, she was a Fey, so people put more stock in her hunches and gut feelings than they would other peoples'… but she wasn't always right. Though this particular case of the butterflies could be signifying something truly disastrous, there was always the possibility that it was simply residual anxiety from narrowly escaping the ambush at Hobbes. Besides, even if the restlessness were a sign? Well, Mia could make sure that she was prepared to handle whatever came up—that was one of the advantages of her hunches, after all.

Right now, though, people were counting on her, and there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary—so Mia firmly put those feelings to the very back of her mind, sitting up straight in her chair and glancing briefly at Commander Kaminogi who was standing directly to her right. "Helm," she said at last, "take us counter-spin. We'll be landing on Elli." Mia tapped in a few commands on the datapanel built into her chair's armrest, highlighting one of the moons on the viewscreen ahead.

The gray, barren Elli was on the smaller side as far as moons went, but it wasn't too tiny. Years ago, the Alliance had constructed an outpost deep within the moon's center, but had abandoned it due to operational difficulties. While maintaining a full-time outpost was infeasible, it was still concealed from enemy knowledge and in working order, so it wasn't all that uncommon for Fusegi craft to use it as a hideaway in an emergency. As of three weeks ago, it had still been functioning perfectly fine… so it was their best bet.

"Aye, Captain," said the young man who was the ship's helmsman. As he put the giant warship through its maneuvers, the scene on the viewscreen changed with their new course (and the stars visible overhead through the transparent metal skylights shifted as well).

For a few long heartbeats, there was no sound on the bridge other than the normal hum of equipment. Nobody spoke—the pilot was good and knew that there was a Federation colony and military base orbiting the gas giant, so he flew in such a way to minimize the risk of being seen without Mia having to tell him.

Still, the restlessness within her breast had returned, and to Captain Mia Fey, the silence felt… pregnant. Almost as if it was waiting for something to happen.

"Captain," came the voice of her sensor officer—she was the newest member of the bridge crew, the most inexperienced, and Mia could immediately sense the anxiety in her words. "We… we have enemy contacts approaching from 68 Mark 19. Approximately eight—no, twelve. They're coming straight for us, sir! ETA, ten minutes and twenty seconds."

An ambush?

For a brief moment, Mia could feel the eyes of the entire bridge crew on her—she was the Captain, after all. Though she could feel her pulse begin to quicken, the restlessness she had been feeling was subsiding just as fast. This was the threat she'd been worried about… and she could deal with it. She kept a calm exterior as she adjusted the white cap on her head. "What models?"

The sensor officer responded after a moment of querying her instruments. "An even split, six GS-139B Perseus-class interceptors, six GS-325 Bastilla-class assault craft. No modifications that we can detect."

Next to her, Mia could hear Kaminogi mutter, under his breath, "They must be on the short end of the supply list… those Bastillas should be in a museum, not in combat." She looked up at him with the briefest of chiding glares—yes, they were older models, but they were known for being superb bombers, capable of delivering devastating blows to larger, less mobile targets. Which, incidentally enough, was exactly what the Kurain happened to be.

Still, her First Officer had a point. The Bastilla-class ships were bordering on antique, and even the Perseus interceptors had seen a long run. Meanwhile, two of her operational ships were state-of-the-art models, and to deny the advantage that gave them would be folly.

"Hold our present course," Mia said at last to the helmsman. Looking over at the other crew on the bridge, she continued, "Bring us to red alert, all crew to their stations." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Scramble our fighters."

There was the slightest of pauses after her orders were given—and then the bridge became a hive of activity once more as the crew moved to carry them out. The familiar drone of the warning klaxon began to whine, issuing the red alert with its plaintive peals.

Beside her, there was a slight movement—and Mia looked to her right and up to see Kaminogi looking down at her, an inquisitive expression on his face. "Sure you want to launch all three, Cap'n?"

Mia closed her eyes in thought. If Redd White had truly been the traitor, he might well have realized they were onto him after Kaminogi had confronted him about his transmission logs. Sending him into battle, then, might well be a deadly mistake. However… something nagged at Mia that she still couldn't place, even after the restlessness had mostly gone. Nobody on the Kurain had known their destination, but for an ambush to still be lying in wait? As much as she didn't want to believe it, the possibility that the Saiban Federation had cracked one of the most important encryptions used by the Alliance now seemed very real.

"I don't like two-on-twelve odds, Souryuu," Mia said quietly, her eyes moving back to the viewscreen.

Kaminogi shrugged slightly, keeping his voice low so that nobody else on the bridge could overhear. "Didn't Wright take out a quartet of Perseus interceptors within seconds just yesterday? Who's to say he can't do that again?"

The Captain kept her voice soft in reply, still not looking up at the black-haired officer. "An ambush is different from a straight-on assault. Fighting twelve enemies at once is different from fighting four."

"We do have another certified pilot on board."

Someone watching her closely might have been able to see her muscles tense as she turned to glare at Commander Kaminogi. "Souryuu," her voice was firm. "She's finished training, but she's never actually been in a real battle. Besides, she's not certified with any of the mecha we have in flight condition." Though her reasons were sound and logical, there was a part of Mia Fey that was forced to admit, deep in her heart… she simply couldn't bring herself to order her little sister into combat.

If there was one thing a Captain could absolutely not do, it was to not make a choice. Either way, people could die… but to do nothing meant that it'd be even more certain.

Though her voice remained quiet, the tone was firm and resolute. "Scramble all three. That's an order."

Captain Mia Fey sat back in her chair, eyes firmly glued to the viewscreen as she waited to see exactly how things would play out from here.

-----

Though there were other crewmembers rushing to their own battle stations, Phoenix didn't pay any attention to them as he jogged down the red-tinted hallway. He'd quickly donned his flight suit as soon as the scramble order had been given, and made sure his gloves were on and perfectly sealed as he ran. There wasn't any time to think about anything else right now—his hands moved on autopilot as his legs carried him to the hangar where his ship awaited its pilot.

The hangar itself was quite bustling with technicians running to and fro, making sure that everything was ready and in order for the battle to come. With the rumble of heavy machinery, Redd's "Jewel" was already being ferried to the elevator that would take it down to the launch catapult. High above the hangar floor, he saw Larry, clad in bright orange flightsuit, about to enter his similarly bright orange "Rodin." His wingman noticed him as well, gave him an exuberant thumbs-up, and then stepped inside the giant humanoid mech.

Phoenix began the jog up to the pilot's scaffolding when the deep voice of the Deck Officer rang out through the hubbub. "Wright," he called—the young pilot paused, turning to look at the head coordinator as he approached. "Just wanted to let you know, the mechanic you requested came by to check out your ship, and everything seemed to be fine."

What?

"I… didn't request any mechanics," responded Phoenix, feeling a bit uneasy at the news. Hadn't he, in fact, explicitly told Captain Fey he didn't want anyone checking out his "Huma"?

It was the Deck Officer's turn to look puzzled, and he went to reference the infopad he carried with him, tapping in a few commands before looking back up at Wright. "No, I have the request right here. Signed by the Captain and everything. Says the mechanic was… well, she signed her name as Satoko Mukui. Pretty girl, with red hair, braids…" he trailed off, clearly understanding Phoenix's perplexed look for what it was. "You don't know her?"

He was about to respond that he didn't know who the man was talking about out of pure reflex—but then halted before he said a word, his eyes widening. It couldn't be…her, could it?

This was wasting too much time, and time was, right now, an extremely rare commodity. "Y-yeah," Phoenix lied at last. "I requested it... there's no problem. Thanks for letting me know, sir." With that, he turned to run up the metal stairs that took him to the pilot's scaffolding, his boots making a loud 'clang' with each step.

Her? Why would she… why now?

The "Huma's" cockpit door was open as he'd left it—but for some reason, it made Phoenix feel uneasy this time around. Still, he couldn't afford to waste time on ghosts of the past right now, not when there were some particularly nasty specters of the present howling at his front door. Phoenix sat down in the large pilot's chair, reached down to where he'd stowed his helmet and prepared to bring it down over his head—but paused. "RYUUICHI," he said at last to his AI. "A mechanic came by earlier today. What changes or… 'fixes' did she do to the ship?"

As the powerful construct started to query its databanks, Phoenix pulled the helmet over his head and engaged the seals that would make it air-tight with the rest of his flightsuit. Within moments he could feel the soft breeze that was the suit's air recirculation system, and the mostly-opaque helmet suddenly became completely transparent, allowing him perfectly unhindered vision no matter the direction. The young pilot keyed in the commands to begin the launch process, and the cockpit door in front of him slowly began to close—slamming shut and sealing with a 'hiss' of air.

Phoenix had just strapped himself securely into his chair and begun his quick pre-launch checklist with the AI responded, "Lieutenant Wright, the mechanic did not make any changes to the ship whatsoever."

That had not been the answer he'd expected, and the black-haired young man blinked to himself in bewilderment. "You're sure?" It was a stupid question and he knew it—there was no way for the AI to be unsure of its answer. "Nevermind," he said, shaking his head. Beneath him, he could feel the giant mech shake and rumble as the magnet lifts grabbed it, guiding it towards the large hangar elevator.

She didn't do anything at all? …what was she up to? Phoenix wondered to himself with a frown, the face of the red-haired girl with the braids fresh in his mind.

Still, if RYUUICHI had said she hadn't done anything to his ship, then she hadn't done anything to his ship—and it wasn't something he should be concerning himself with right now, anyway. As if to punctuate his train of thought, there was a sudden pop right by his ear as someone opened a communication channel with him.

He knew who it was, of course. "Hey, Maya," he said, a sort of warm familiarity flooding his body after the cold chill of uncertainty he'd just been feeling had passed. "Going to watch my back out there today?"

"You know it," she chirped on the other end of the line—somewhere in the ship's communications center, he guessed. He could envision the smile on her face as she spoke. "Charley and me are gonna make sure you don't get fried out there."

"Charley?" Though she couldn't see him and the expression was pointless, Phoenix raised a black eyebrow inquisitively anyway. "…you mean the Captain's plant?" What's she doing with her sister's potted plant in the communications center? The sideways movement stopped abruptly as his craft reached the elevator—and then he could feel the lift beginning to descend.

Phoenix touched a series of controls on the main console, and the multiple viewscreens around the cockpit that provided a complete 180-degree view of his surroundings flared to life, along with the little 3-D holographic globe hovering just below his natural line of sight. It was a globe with a small dot representing him at the center, and it would show the position of friends and foes around him while in combat.

The viewscreens didn't display anything but uniform gray walls as the elevator descended, but Phoenix knew the view would soon change. He could feel his heart beginning to pound as it always did, but tried to take a few deep, calming breaths of the stale air in his suit, listening to Maya's response. "Well… Sis thought that Charley'd been looking down lately, so she asked me to take care of him for a while to cheer him up!"

Shaking his head, the young pilot chuckled to himself briefly. Granted, if there was anybody who could cheer up a potted plant, it'd be Maya Fey, but still… "Well, as long as Charley pulls his weight today, I'll be fine with it."

"Oh, don't worry, Nick. I know you're going to do great out there. And I'll watch your back!"

Despite his racing pulse, a smile nonetheless found its way onto his face. "You usually do."

The elevator began to slow, and Phoenix could see the long, straight tunnel that was the launch catapult in front of him, with a few twinkling stars visible at the far end—out into space.

The Heads-Up Display on the main viewscreen suddenly gained a column of small colored bars representing different stages of the launch sequence. They were all red at the start, but rapidly, one by one, turned green. "This is Lieutenant Phoenix Wright," he began, keying his other channel to the launch command. "Beginning final sequence."

Phoenix's hands flew over the main console, flicking a switch here, tapping a button there in the familiar pre-flight sequence, a different bar changing color with every action. Finally, what had been uniform red was now completely green, and the column was replaced by a series of four lights representing the catapult's countdown to launch. The young pilot reached up with his right hand to slightly above head level, almost casually flipping a bright red handle.

Behind his ship, there was a spark and then a faint glow that began to increase in radiance fairly rapidly. The light began to almost 'solidify,' turning into six distinct glimmering scarlet 'wings.' On the viewscreen, the first light lit up.

"Hey Nick?" Maya's voice wavered slightly, barely enough to notice.

The second light lit up. "Yes?" he responded, attempting to keep his own breathing and pounding heartbeat in check.

Maya paused before speaking, and the third light brightened. "…be careful out there, okay?"

Before Phoenix could respond, the fourth light lit. The sudden acceleration made it hard to breathe as the catapult sent him hurtling along the launch tunnel and his thrusters flared to life with a powerful rumble, propelling him out into the cold vacuum of space.

Continued…