EPISODE 6: THE BLACK ARMADA
*Author's Note: The author would like to thank Mr. Eric Gardner for his assistance in writing this episode.
December, U.C. 0098
Jolie hands a small, gift-wrapped box to Athena, "Merry Christmas, 'Thena."
"Thank you," Athena says, accepting the box, "Want me to open it now?"
"Yeah," Jolie enthuses with a sweet grin.
Athena opens the box methodically and neatly, laying aside the wrapping paper. Within is a box that contains a gold pocketwatch with a chain.
"It's beautiful," Athena smiles, "I'll cherish it, Jolie."
"I got that in Shanghai back when were on Earth," Jolie tells Athena, "Cost me a few hundred credits too."
"You know," Athena says with a mischievous grin, "gold pocketwatches are traditionally gifts for people who are about to retire from their careers. Are you trying to tell me something, Jo?"
Jolie, unaware of the tradition, blushes in embarrassment, "Well, um. No, that's not what I meant. I mean…"
Smiling at her friend's discomfort, Athena produces a somewhat bigger gift-wrapped box, "I have something for you as well."
"Cool!" Jolie says, accepting the box from Athena and ripping the wrapping to shreds.
Jolie's eyes widen as she opens the box: it contains a high-caliber Walther hand pistol, similar to the sidearm that Athena always carries, but a newer, more advanced model.
"Wow," Jolie says, picking up the small, but deadly silver handgun, "You know, only you would give someone a gun for a Christmas gift."
Athena smiles, "This Walther hand pistol has greater range and accuracy than your standard issue Federal Forces sidearm, and packs a stronger punch too. If it ever comes down to it, it'll give you an edge in a life or death battle."
"Thanks, 'Thena," Jolie says, twirling the gun on her finger before holstering it at her side.
Eight years later…
The gold pocketwatch hangs on a chain from her vest, having ticked away each second of those eight years, measuring out the things that have changed, and the things that have remained the same.
The small Walther pistol is steady in her hand, loaded with a full clip, held in the same small, delicate, feminine hand that first held it eight years ago, pointed at the one who gifted it…she who wears the gold watch on its chain.
Major Jolie Minh-Miguel, SNRI, Earth Federation Forces, lets out a barely audible whisper, "Why?"
Deputy Prime Minister Minerva Zabi of the Shambala Republic, once Lt. Col. Athena Ibaz of SNRI, stares steadily at the familiar weapon pointed at her, and responds with a wry grin that bears not the slightest trace of fear, "You've already had your chance to know."
Minerva pulls out her own sidearm, a Walter hand pistol of similar make, and points it at Jolie.
Chief Warrant Officer Christian Ray swings his own automatic sidearm towards Minerva, but before he can complete the arc of motion, he feels the sensation of something cold and metallic against his back, and hears the sound of yet another weapon being cocked for firing.
"Don't move," comes the voice of Shambala Intelligence Agency Director Hathaway Noah, "Give me your weapon."
Reluctantly, Christian surrenders his sidearm to Hathaway.
Jolie, too wrathfully focused on Minerva to acknowledge Christian's presence (or his peril), bites out at her onetime sister-at-arms, "I'm putting an end to this right now."
Minerva smiles at her former charge, stepping closer, defying the weapon in Jolie's extended arm, "You aren't firing that weapon. I know you, Jolie."
Damn her, she's right…as always, Jolie acknowledges silently.
Minerva extends her own weapon, held in her flesh-and-blood right hand, and pulls the trigger!
Click!
Jolie does not blink…does not move at all, staring coldly at Minerva.
Minerva reholsters her weapon. Her beautiful green eyes burn with liquid fire.
Minerva says gently, "You can still walk away from this if you want to, Jolie. Take your second-in-command and go back to Side 7. Resign your commission with the Earth Federation Forces and sit this one out. Go manage your nightclub…or dedicate your time to Jonah's memory."
"If I refuse…?" Jolie says, baring her teeth at Minerva.
Minerva says nothing, turns away, and signals her men to make their move…
"Down!" Jolie orders Christian.
The two young Newtypes hit the deck as it begins to vibrate.
C'mon, Eric, Jolie silently implores, Just like we planned it…
Major Eric Gardner's Strike Gundam blasts through the hull of the cargo ship with its VSBR (Variable Speed Beam Rifle).
"Grab on and climb in!" Eric's voice booms from his mobile suit's external amplifiers.
Jolie and Christian scramble towards the Strike Gundam, securing around their waists a pair of grappler cables that extend down to them from one of the Federation stealth MS's external nacelles.
A few of Minerva's personnel begin leveling shoulder-mounted anti-MS rocket launchers at the Strike Gundam. At this range, such weapons can inflict serious damage to MS if the shooters know where to aim, and Eric knows that his onetime colleague Minerva Zabi, the former Lt. Col. Athena Ibaz of SNRI, recruits only personnel who know precisely what to do with a good weapon.
Eric doesn't give them the chance…thumbing the trigger to unleash a torrent of gunfire from the Strike Gundam's head-mounted Vulcan cannon…more to chase away than to kill.
Hathaway instinctively throws himself in front of his wife, shielding her from harm that fortunately, does not come.
Jolie and Christian have embedded themselves within a storage nacelle of the Strike Gundam. No sooner do they do so than does Eric turn the Strike Gundam on its heel, throw the thrust throttle forward, and send the mobile suit vectoring away from the cargo cruiser.
Automatic sealant injection systems come to life to seal the breach in the ship's hull before further atmosphere can escape.
Minerva turns to her personnel and instructs them calmly, "I want them alive, especially Jolie Minh. You're in command, Jo-M."
"Yes, ma'am," Jo-M replies with a crisp salute as she sprints to the Omega Gundam.
Minerva's other personnel also climb into their various MS – not mainline Shambala Republic Defense Force MS, which could implicate the Deputy Prime Minister and the Republic, but assorted Jegans-A, B, D and J types, a Stark Jegan, a few Re-ZELs, Geara Dogas, Geara Zulus, a Delta Plus, and a Jesta…all acquired through means undefined.
Eric spots his pursuers through the aft view monitors of the Strike Gundam's linear seat cockpit.
Eric grins roguishly, "Motley crew they've got on us. Hang on tight, you two!"
Eric spins the Strike Gundam around, bringing its multiple weapons systems to bear on the incoming Jegans.
Eric's modifications to Strike's avionics and weapons systems had undergone tests against Jolie's White Phoenix Gundam at SNRI Base in recent weeks, and is more than capable of holding its own in straight combat against the toughest opponents – a lion garbed as a jackal.
The beams hit their targets, but the Jegans remain intact as Major Gardner targeted only their weapons, the senior Federation officer unwilling to kill unnecessarily.
More MS join the pursuit, making way for their lead unit, the Omega Gundam.
Can't take her head on, Eric realizes, Just have to play around with her for a bit until help gets here!
Two Re-ZELs streak overhead, attempting to cut off the Strike Gundam's escape route towards the Side 7 perimeter.
"These jokers aren't making things easy," Major Gardner mutters under his breath as he deploys his beam sabers to clip their weapons and wings.
The Geara Zulu units converge upon the Strike, their assault beam rifles belching forth hellfire, but Eric's Gundam dodges them deftly - striking back with salvos from the VSBRs.
Even as the Zulus go down, the Stark Jegan closes in from behind the Strike Gundam, but the Strike reacts quickly enough to dodge the strike, albeit barely.
Major Gardner directs the right arm of the Strike Gundam to reach out and seize the Jegan by the connector shaft that links its main body to the head/camera unit, and then fires the Gatling beam guns on the Strike Gundam's wrists to blind the opposing MS.
Eric knows, however, that the deadliest opponent is yet to strike.
The Omega Gundam rakes the Strike with a hail of cannon fire, causing the Strike's armor to spark, but Major Gardner's MS remains intact.
She's just toying with me, Eric realizes, She's got enough firepower to blow the Strike away with a single shot, but she's playing games…maybe I can take advantage of that.
Drenched in perspiration, Eric draws out the Strike's beam saber as the Omega Gundam does likewise.
The two Gundams lock blades.
"You may have Jolie's DNA," Eric snarls, "but you don't have her experience."
Be that as it may, raw ability and power might be sufficient to win the day. The Omega Gundam presses its beam blade dangerously close to the Strike's cockpit.
Major Gardner is about to concede that perhaps the clone has his number when four Zeta-class MS(the Zeta Prompt, the Zeta Plutonius, the Zeta Plus A4, and the Zeta Plus-S) interrupt the fight just long enough for the Strike to push the OG away and escape.
The voice of Col. Christina McKenzie, Director of SNRI, issues forth from the Zeta Prompt, "Zeta Prompt to Strike Gundam: Major Gardner…are you, Major Minh-Miguel, and Chief Ray all right?"
"Roger, ma'am," Eric replies, "And there's our wayward cub right there."
"Cub's got muscles," Christina observes.
"I've…whoa…noticed!" Eric answers, narrowly dodging another strike.
Chieming's voice comes through Eric's receivers, a sound as sweet as nectar to his ears, "Was getting worried about you, flyboy. Knew you couldn't stay out of trouble without me."
Eric grins, "Then lay down some cover while I get my passengers back to the hotel, Babe!"
"Roger," Chieming replies.
The Omega Gundam swats at its enemies with its beam saber, keeping them at bay with its powerful beam cannon.
Zeta Gundam types, Jo-M notes aloofly, Unremarkable opposition.
Jo-M targets them for destruction, tracing them with her thoughts…engaging them for instantaneous, fiery obliteration.
Her finger tenses upon the trigger.
"Bring it home, Jo," Minerva Zabi's voice comes through Jo-M's helmet receivers, "Let them go. They aren't important. We've got other priorities."
"Yes, ma'am," Jo-M replies reluctantly, converting the Omega Gundam to mobile armor configuration and darting away.
Within minutes, Jo-M docks the Omega Gundam at the hangar.
Jo-M disembarks, floats to the deck, and approaches Minerva with her head hung low. "I'm sorry, ma'am; I failed to capture Jolie Minh."
Minerva pats Jo-M on the shoulder, "Your predecessor and namesake is the most dangerous woman in the world…and she has formidable allies. Overcoming her will be a team effort. Secure the Omega Gundam and return to your quarters. I'll have another mission for you…soon."
"Yes, ma'am," Jo-M salutes, and turns immediately to comply with Minerva's orders.
So much like Jolie, Minerva reflects, and yet, so different.
Hathaway embraces Minerva from behind, kissing her tenderly on the neck, placing his hands along the sides of her torso.
Minerva seems momentarily faint, and Hathaway steadies her with a protective, loving embrace.
"You OK?" Hathaway asks, concern evident in the gentle tone of his voice.
Minerva recovers her composure, but she appears pale and feels slightly nauseous.
"I'm all right," Minerva finally says through shallow breaths, "It's nothing, Hathaway. I'm fine."
"You should leave this to Jo-M and me," Hathaway says, "There's no reason that you need to be out here taking risks. Not when…"
"The situation is too critical and too tenuous to leave anything to chance," Minerva says, "I trust you…and I trust Jo. But all of our efforts are necessary to ensure our success. Jolie is a dangerous adversary, and she's much savvier than she was when she and I were partners. She had the foresight to see that we would try to trap her, so she'd already arranged to have Eric Gardner bail her out."
Hathaway nods in agreement, "Gardner's a huge thorn in our side. In spite of our best efforts to throw him off our trail, he's getting closer and closer. He'll connect the dots sooner or later."
"Jolie's people are not to be underestimated," Minerva observes, habitually placing her flesh hand on her abdomen, "…like Eric Gardner, and that boy we saw with her. He's a Newtype, Hathaway…a very powerful one. He could present significant problems…or be of significant help to us."
Eric breathes a sigh of relief knowing that they've made it out alive as he removes his helmet and disembarks from the Strike Gundam at the hangar deck of Garrison Noah.
Chief Warrant Officer Christian Ray, extracting himself from the Strike Gundam's storage nacelle, exchanges a quick fist-bump with Eric.
"Thanks for the rescue, E.," the young Newtype says, "Pretty impressed with those moves you used out there. That was some fancy hotdogging you did out there, man."
"It's called a 'Fokker's Feint,'" Eric says, "Ever saw the movie Macross: Do You Remember Love? Classic film. Inspired my moves…especially that part where that green-haired alien chick goes psycho on those other alien mecha."
"You mean that movie with the annoying Chinese girl pop singer?" Christian says acidly.
"The annoying Chinese girl pop singer whom your commanding officer is a dead ringer for," Eric returns mischievously.
Jolie emerges from the storage nacelle, hearing Eric's lighthearted remark, but not responding to it. Her still youthful, beautiful face is locked in a dark scowl.
Christian notes the expression and begins following Jolie as she begins stalking away silently.
"Jo…" Christian begins.
Eric's strong hand settles on Christian's shoulder, "Christian…not now. I've seen Jolie in these moods before. Believe me, you don't want to bother her."
Setting aside Eric's sage advice, Christian pursues Jolie, "Jolie! Ma'am! Hey!"
Jolie silently enters the women pilot's locker, ignoring Christian completely.
Wonder if she's mad at me…Christian muses unhappily.
Jolie runs a cold shower over her body, rinsing away the sweat and grime of combat, but unable to rinse away the anger that seethes within her.
Athena…I knew…I've always known that someday, somehow, you'd stab all of us in the back.
Jolie's mood has not improved much several hours later when she and Christian are attempting to kick back at the White Phoenix Nightclub. Jolie, silent and brooding, works her way through a cigarette and a Vodka Seven highball, unresponsive to Christian's earnest attempts to introduce a little levity.
"…those moves that Major Gardner pulled off were really slick," Christian chimes enthusiastically, "Even you probably couldn't have done them any bet…"
"Christian, please…just shut up," Jolie says covering her eyes and shaking her head.
Christian falls silent.
Jolie catches the youth's unhappy expression and her own expression softens. She touches his hand gently, "I'm sorry, Christian. I didn't mean that. I'm just shaken up by…"
"I understand," Christian says, "Athena Ibaz is your best friend. I'd feel the same way in your position."
Christian's hand tightens around Jolie's; this time, she does not release herself from his grip.
The moment is interrupted by a sudden, startled scream.
"Get your hands off me!"
The voice is that of Angeline, one of the club employees whose responsibilities include serving and entertaining guests.
Jolie and Christian see that Angeline is being accosted by three young Federal Forces officers…all young men perhaps a year or two older than Christian. The ringleader is a tall blonde with an arrogant smirk that seems fixed upon his handsome Nordic features. His two companions, a redhead and a dark-haired youth, are thuggish louts of indistinct ethnicity.
Jolie and Christian vacate their seats and step confidently into the fray.
"What's the problem?" Jolie demands.
"Major Minh," Angeline says to her employer, holding down the hem of her miniskirt, "He put his hand up my skirt."
Angeline indicates the dark-haired youth…an intimidating, muscular figure who, despite his youth, gives the impression of being a veteran of many a street or alley fight.
Jolie stares him down, saying softly, "I like for my customers to have a good time, but I also expect them to respect the people on my staff. If you can't abide by that, then I want you out of here."
"Relax," the dark-haired youth, whose breast pocket uniform tag indicates him as, "2Lt. C. Toru," "If you want me leave your employees alone, I will…besides…you're a hotter piece of ass than she'd ever be."
2Lt. Toru approaches Jolie with a lustful gleam in his eye.
Christian, growling like an enraged animal, tackles Toru to the ground and beats on him mercilessly, determined to keep striking until something breaks.
Jolie moves forward to pull Christian off the larger man before the youth kills him, but she spots the redhead…2Lt. G. Durand, according to his pocket tag, extracting a long, wicked-looking knife from the inner pocket of his uniform jacket and lifting his arm to plunge the blade into Christian's back.
Jolie slaps the knife out of Durand's hand, catching it in her own and rapidly carving an "X" on the front of his neck. She kicks him down and places the heel of her boot upon the side of his head while drawing her sidearm to shoot out a pistol drawn by the hand of the tall, handsome blonde, whose pocket tag indicates him as "1Lt. G. Rush."
At the same moment, Christian, his rage spent, pulls 2Lt. Toru to his feet; the larger man's face is a mess of blood and broken teeth.
"Get out," Jolie says darkly, "Don't let me ever see you here again."
Christian releases Toru, and Jolie allows Durand to rise to his feet. They prepare to charge at Jolie and Christian again, but the unscathed 1Lt. Rush restrains them.
"That's enough," Rush says authoritatively, with a tone of command that belies his youth, "All right, we go. You SNRI punks think of yourselves as the elite of the Earth Federation Forces, but soon you'll realize that you're nothing."
The trio leaves.
"You all right?" Jolie asks Angeline.
"I'm OK," Angeline replies, "Thanks, Jolie."
"You can have the rest of the night off if you want," Jolie says, "Those bastards might still be out there, though, so you'd better let Christian and me escort you home."
Angeline nods and heads for the employees' room.
Jolie and Christian retake their seats; another club employee brings them fresh drinks.
Jolie lights a fresh cigarette, inhales deeply from it, and exhales before asking Christian, "Did you catch their unit number?"
Christian replies, "66th Autonomous Corps…never heard of them."
"Me neither," Jolie concedes, "We'd better ask Major Gardner to look into this."
"We also need to figure out what we're gonna do about the Omega Gundam," Christian says, "It came damn close to nailing all of us today."
"Jo-M is just a puppet," Jolie says, "An extremely dangerous and powerful puppet, but a puppet nonetheless. The real threat is her puppet master...Athe…Minerva Zabi."
"Then we go after the puppet master," Christian says resolutely, "Do you…think you can?"
"I don't know," Jolie says, fear in her voice.
I don't know if I can kill my…sister…
Two hours later, Christian throws himself onto his spacious bed at Jolie's luxurious penthouse in the most upscale section of Green Oasis City.
It's been a long day…a day in which Christian has taken part in battles both large and small in scale…another day during which he nearly died. Sleep should come easily, but his mind won't stop spinning.
As has become increasingly common during the past several weeks, Christian finds his mind filling with images of Jolie…or is it Jo-M? Christian is no longer certain. Since encountering Jo-M earlier during the day, he's has experienced an odd, unsettling muddling between Jolie and Jo-M's identities. Genetically, physically – by all appearances discernible through his eyes, they are identical, but their minds…their souls…
In Jolie, Christian has sensed a resistance to his desire to engage her…he reaches out to her, but finds his path obstructed by Jolie's memories…by her fears…her slain family…the lost unborn child that Jolie had told Christian about…and most of all, her late, but still beloved husband.
Christian has begun to reluctantly acknowledge that Jolie will never open certain barriers to him…the barriers of her past…of her fear to feel any closer to Christian than she does, lest she lose him the way she lost so many others she has loved.
Christian wishes that he could accept that as good enough…as proof that Jolie cares about him…but he knows that he cannot.
But Jo-M…Christian reached into her mind and had sensed…an endless openness. Not emptiness, but openness…a desire to receive, and a desire to give. Jo-M is Jolie, Christian senses, a Jolie unburdened by a past shaded by ghosts…
Christian's eyes shut…his mind begins to unwind…Jolie…Jolie…Jo-M.
In a concealed location, Jo-M sits crosslegged, as naked as she was the day she emerged from the cloning capsule. She meditates…clearing her mind…reaching out into the cosmos…its eternal expanse within her reach.
In that eternity…one mind…one soul, distracts her from all else.
In her consciousness forms the image of a youthful, handsome face…unseen before today, but somehow, familiar…as if she had always known him…as if she had always expected to know him.
But who is he, and what are these inexplicable feelings she has experienced as a result of encountering him.
A name emerges…a name she has never heard, but somehow knows…
Christian…Christian…Ray…
Christian bolts awake…confused images blurring his thoughts….he glances at the clock…how much time has passed? Hours? Minutes? Millenia?
Christian rises from his bed, realizing that he is still clad in his uniform. He steps out of his room.
The den and kitchen area of the apartment suite is dark and silent, as is Jolie's bedroom, but Christian notices that the door to her room is open.
Christian pokes his head through the door; Jolie's bed is empty, apparently unslept in.
Where the hell did she go this time of night?
04:09, Side 7 time…
The White Phoenix Nightclub closed its doors for the night/early morning at 03:30. Lights are out, and staff members have gone home. Janitorial crews would not arrive for cleaning duties until 09:00.
Three figures clad in dark clothing, their faces obscured by black balaclavas (ski masks) and their hands protected by black leather gloves, creep stealthily along the alleyway behind the club.
Upon the club's walls, they affix shaped plastic charges…compact, but capable of powerful incendiary and concussive effect.
They never get the chance to light the ignition fuses before a hail of automatic weapons fire rains down around them from the roof of the nightclub.
The men extract automatic weapons of their own and return fire. Lacking the high ground, however, they are at a distinct disadvantage, and back away into the darkness.
The gunfire falls silent, and Major Jolie Minh-Miguel cautiously leaps down, catlike, into the alley, smoking assault rifle in hand.
Jolie steps over to one of the plastic charges on the wall and removes it, studying it carefully by the faint light of the White Phoenix Nightclub's neon sign.
Jolie hears footsteps rushing towards her and raises the assault rifle.
Chief Warrant Officer Christian Ray raises both hands, his youthful face the portrait of terror, "Hey! Don't shoot! It's me!"
"Th' hell you doing here?" Jolie demands as she examines the plastic explosive in her hand.
"I could ask you the same thing," Christian replies.
"I had a weird feeling," Jolie says by way of explanation, "So I came back…someone tried to blow up the club."
"Who?" Christian asks.
Jolie hands him the plastic explosive.
"Federation ordnance," Jolie says, "Not standard issue stuff. This is the stuff we use…only better quality than I've seen in a few years. This one's got a birthdate of less than a month, though."
"What's it all mean?" Christian wonders, handing the explosive back to Jolie.
Jolie takes the explosive and fingers it gingerly, "That's what we'll have Christina and Eric help us figure out tomorrow…today, I mean."
Not six hours later, Col. McKenzie, Major Gardner, Major Minh-Miguel, and Chief Warrant Officer Ray meet in a private conference room at Garrison Noah.
Col. McKenzie studies the shaped plastic charge in her hand gravely, finally remarking, "No doubt about it…it's genuine Federal Forces ordnance issue."
"But," Major Gardner interjects, handing a similar plastic charge to Col. McKenzie, "the quality of its materials and workmanship are far better than this unit right here…taken from our own SNRI stockpile."
Christina compares the two explosives carefully…prying them open with a small tool brought for the purpose. Sure enough, although the two explosives are superficially identical, a closer examination confirms Eric's observation: the unit that Jolie recovered from the alleyway behind the White Phoenix Nightclub is notably superior in both materials and workmanship.
"We've been getting dud materials from the contracted suppliers for more than two years now," Christina says, "but apparently, someone out there is still supplying the good stuff…just not to SNRI."
"Then to who?" Eric muses aloud.
"The 66th Autonomous Corps," Jolie interjects, "Who the hell are they, Christina? Why haven't we ever heard of these guys?"
"66th Autonomous Corps was organized by General Blackhead," Christina explains, "…over General Noah's objections. They're a ready-reaction force that Blackhead pushed for after he returned to active service after recovering from his injuries…something the Federation could use to immediately quickly counter and suppress a surprise attack against us like the one Miguel launched against us back in U.C. 0100. Officially, the 66th doesn't exist…which is why you haven't heard of them. Their mission is…let's say, different from SNRI's."
"'Different' my ass," Jolie remarks, "Just thugs in Federal Forces uniforms. Figures Blackhead is in charge of all this."
"Neither the President nor General Noah supported the formation of the 66th," Christina continues, "but the High Command gave General Blackhead the go-ahead after the Federal Forces nearly got wiped out in the last battle against the Zeon. But we heard very little about it after it got underway. We all thought the project just died on the vote of some budgetary committee in the Deliberative Assembly years ago."
"It evidently hasn't," Eric says, "And we don't have any idea how far its reach actually is."
"You're right," Christina agrees, "We don't. For that reason: Eric…Jolie…Christian…I want you to monitor General Blackhead and his command staff very carefully. See what they're up to, but don't intervene. We don't want them to know we're on to them. If we get caught, we're all liable to be implicated for treason."
On the way to the mobile suit deck, a deeply disturbed Chief Warrant Officer Christian Ray remarks to Jolie, "This corrupt mess is the Federation we're giving our loyal to and putting our lives on the line for?"
"Yeah," is Jolie's only reply, "Some things really never change."
For the next ten days, SNRI personnel very discreetly scrutinize the communications and activities of General Manron Blackhead of the Earth Federation Space Armada and his command staff…making note of anything odd or out of place. The first seven days yield very little in the way of actionable data, but on the eighth day, word is received of an off-record rendezvous between General Blackhead and unknown parties at the abandoned Industria Colony of Side 5.
Major Gardner, Major Minh-Miguel, and Chief Warrant Officer Ray are dispatched to shadow this clandestine rendezvous.
Mindful of Col. McKenzie's admonitions, the SNRI personnel have taken precautious to minimize the likelihood of their implicating SNRI should they lose their initial cover. In lieu of their Gundam mobile suits, Eric, Jolie, and Christian are piloting Hydrosuits and operating under the cover of an innocuous civilian colony maintenance repair agency – Gardnertech.
Eric, Jolie, and Christian discreetly park their Hydrosuits in an abandoned area, and then make their way through a series of ventilation shafts and service conduits. Were Industria a modern colony with fully functional facilities, there would surely be a surveillance system that would have detected them. Industria is in such a state of disrepair, however, that even a temporary surveillance system isn't worth the effort or resources necessary to set up and render operational.
"This place is a dump," Christian remarks, "Even more than Luna 2 was."
"I know," Jolie replies, "I grew up here. The place is still a shithole after all these years…"
"Shithole or not," Eric says, "This is where Blackhead is meeting whoever it is he's meeting. Any guesses on who that might be?"
"The Easter Bunny? Santa Claus? The Great Pumpkin?" Christian quips.
"Probably the Devil himself," Jolie finishes.
The trio reaches the end of the service conduits, where they discreetly peer through the metal grating.
Their throats go dry, and their mouths gape in disbelief at the sight before them.
Industria's crumbling old districts of abandoned factories and warehouses have been largely replaced by a fully armed military facility on a scale that at least rivals Garrison Noah. The area where Jolie lived when she was an adolescent remains standing at the northern terminus of the colony, but the central portion of Industria has been converted into a fully functional military hub. Dozens upon dozens of Earth Federation Forces space warships, and hundreds of mobile suits of both familiar and unfamiliar design stand ready for deployment. Weapons are stockpiled in massive warehouses.
Jolie, Christian, and Eric watch silently, breathlessly as a platoon of Earth Federation Forces troops, dressed in a black variant of the Earth Federation Forces uniform.
They see an Earth Federation Forces command staff executive shuttle landing at the makeshift spaceport. The space vehicle taxis to a halt. Momentarily, General Blackhead disembarks, heralded by his command staff. They are met by applause from the large platoon of black-garbed Federal Forces troops among them.
Christian nudges Jolie and directs her attention to three young officers standing in the front row of troops, cheering Blackhead's arrival. She recognizes them…Toru, Durand, and Rush.
The three SNRI officers scowl as another shuttle arrives, this one bearing the markings of the Buch Concern. The shuttle is escorted by a squadron of Crossbones Vanguard mobile suits.
The shuttle lands, and momentarily, Defense Minister Meitzer Ronah of the Shambala Republic disembarks, escorted by his aides and by his adjutant, Col. Carrrozzo Matthioli, leader of the Crossbones Vanguard.
Defense Minister Ronah extends his hand and a cold smile to General Blackhead, "My congratulations, General. The vision you've dedicated your efforts to for the past half-decade has yielded highly impressive results."
"Thanks to your support, Your Excellency," Blackhead says, returning an equally cold smile as he takes the other man's hand, "Together, we will establish a stronger, more secure world…a world that those weak women, Artasia Daikun, Minerva Zabi, and Mirai Noah, couldn't possibly realize."
"This Black Armada represents the rebirth of the Earth Federation Forces," Ronah says, inspecting the scores of mobile suits, combat craft, and warships…all of which were constructed by his Buch Concern, "Together with my Crossbones Vanguard, they cannot possibly fail."
"'The Black Armada,'" Blackhead muses, "Flattering name, but I'm hardly that kind of egotist, Minister Ronah. That was never more than an unofficial nickname. Today, however, it's time to properly christen this glorious body of warriors."
Blackhead takes to a podium arranged for him to address his troops…his Black Armada, "Gentlemen of the 66th Autonomous Corps. Today, we hide in the shadows no more. I now authorize you to reveal your true heritage.
Thousands of hands reach out to remove thousands of covering matches on the uniform jacket sleeves that cover thousands of arms. Covers are removed from the hulls of warships by the dozens, and from the fuselages of combat aircraft and the shells of mobile suits…all revealing a familiar black and red legend upon a yellow avian figure.
Jolie, Eric, and Christian gasp simultaneously as their eyes widen in horrific recognition.
TITANS.
