AN: Wow here we are at chapter nine, I will not say that I did not expect this day to come but I will say that I am mighty pleased it did. With this chapter we are entering the final stretch of the fic, as I said at the very beginning I never intended this to be a overly long work-fifteen chapters at most and maybe a epilogue but...I have to say this has been the most fun I have had writing in a lot of years. Even with the rather low key reception, I have to say that I am very happy every time I see a review and get to read how people are enjoying this work of mine. Admittedly I'd rather see longer ones detailing just what they like about it besides the fact they do like it, but I am not very picky :P

Anyway before we get to chapter nine we have a little bit to discuss. Work has been keeping me rather busy lately so unfortunately my time for writing is likewise limited. To make matters worse I am working regular third shift gigs, so even my off time is usually spent recouping from staying up all night, I only have a few days off in a week but I am trying to use some of the time towards writing. However with this fic now entering a crucial juncture, it requires better then any sort of half assed measure so I will only be writing when I am confident I can express what I want to see done in the story.

I hope that explains the slightly slower update process, time was I could upload maybe a chapter or two a month, as it stands it will likely have to revert to a once per month cycle. Anyway as the prior AN in the last chapter indicated this is the lead up to Loum and that little battle at Side Five.

Nothing more to say then expect more buildup, character info dumps and what have you.

Disclaimer: Don't own Gundam if I did this would be a serialized manga at the very least or maybe a OVA series


January 14th, 0079

Tivvay Cruiser: Argus

Briefing Room

1000 Hours

"Lady Kycilia has reported that the conquest of the Lunar cities is going well, she expects her primary forces to arrive in time to assist with the neutralization of Side Five."

"If all goes well however, Dozle's command group is set to arrive well before her own though. He has been appointed nominal commander of this operation and his forces are slowly trickling in as we speak. That said we have word that several Federation battlegroups including the majority of the garrison from Luna II have disembarked. Their ultimate destination is unknown however...I'd bet my life that they are coming here, Revil is coming to stop the Zeon fleet before the Federation utterly loses all momentum in this conflict." He understood the desperation that the Federation undoubtedly felt here, no doubt they were eager to prevent yet another colony drop for that could only be the purpose in which so much of the Zeon forces were being rerouted. Yet at the same time they were likely to still underestimate them, to the Federation Zeon seemed a ant to be crushed nothing more, much of their forces had never encountered mobile suits and the Federation had no grasp of the marvel of that line of techology.

They would learn.

"So I take it we are simply to wait then?" Drevis grumbled out, no doubt he wasn't keen on waiting for Dozle's main forces to arrive but it was evident that he would arrive far sooner then Kycilia would. He wouldn't begrudge his squadmate his choice in faction no matter if it wasn't his own, after all Drevis undeniably had vested interest in Kycilia securing as much success as possible. He had tied his future to that of her own and while he knew not why the man in question would do that, the result would be plain to see. If Kycilia not only won a victory on the Moon but also here at Side Five she would outstrip Dozle utterly in her utility to the war effort. Yet that seemed not to be the case, he supposed he should take a interest in her own progress and success as well.

No doubt that Dozle wouldn't employ Typhon to its purpose, he would instead make use of his own squadrons, his men would gain the glory and acclaim that would be won in that battle. That would certainly not be his preference, this was shaping up to be perhaps the largest battle to date in the war. To miss it, to miss chance to secure the glory and freedom of Zeon once and for all in a climatic battle against the Federation...He smiled internally at that little of romanticism that leaked into his thoughts, he may have bloodied his hands and even cast aside his humanity for the sake of his people and yet he couldn't disentangle himself from the fanciful trappings of war. There was glory to be found in war, to letting the blood of the enemies of Zeon, even if he had to cast aside everything that had made him what he was before this conflict.

"Yes, until the arrival of Dozle and the reinforcements we are on standby, we have done enough recon to supply the fleet with as much information as we could. No sense in providing the Federation a easy target now that that know we are here." That was likely a good idea given that the last scouting mission they had undertaken a day prior had nearly resulted in a battle once they were detected, they had pieced together enough of the puzzle for the admirality to form a general battle plan.

"Understood but a single question." Dieter stated as he raised his eyes from the file he had been skimming over, the fruit of their efforts-all the data that had been collected of the placement, and size of the forces arrayed against Zeon at Side Five. The Captain in turn seemed to glance over at him before giving a formal nod to indulge his subordinate.

"Are you prepared to fail here?" His tone was uniform, crisp and clear despite the tension that hung beneath the words. He himself was uncertain of his own answer, but perhaps reassurances of a superior would aid him in combating his own doubts. He did not doubt the Zeon military, nor the zeal and devotion he would certainly fly with, he did not doubt the legitimacy of their cause, of their methods or tactics but the simple prospect of victory. Too many times had it been ripped from their fingers when they were within inches of it, at Side One and British the war had been within their grasp to end it at their leisure only for a twist of fate to deny them their victory.

Would this merely be a repeat of that? He had to know, or at the very least know what his newly appointed Captain had to think of the matter. After all Roland like himself, like the rest of this squad had fought since the onset of this war, and even with their differing service histories, differing backgrounds and battles they all likely knew what awaited them at this gathering of forces taking place at Side Five. It would be a defining moment of this conflict, or that was how it appeared on the surface, to him it all stunk of what came before it though...

Initially he had thought the war would burn itself out within the week, yet that time passed, he had thought it would end with the destruction of Side One and yet that fortress of colonies remained largely intact along with their garrisons...He thought the dropping of a colony at British would herald the utter destruction of both the morale and military leadership of the Federation, it failed utterly at both aims. So despite the clear chain of command, despite his supposed dedication to the service of the homeland, he would request this small boon in aid of sheer motivation.

Was it merely reassurance or was his resolve just that weak? Would he fight a battle he knew he was doomed to lose? Would he abandon the men at his side? Comrades, friends? Would he cast them aside with his duty merely to preserve his own life? He had never considered himself the sort to cut and run if the battle, the war turned against them and yet with all the failure surrounding the Principality in the aftermath of the initial start of the war...could he truly be blamed for such thoughts? Did it indicate that he lacked something a proper soldier should? Or was it mere nerves, self preservation, private and traitorous thoughts that all soldiers held but stifled and ignored and did their duty regardless...even at the cost of his own life?

That was why he asked his question, that was why he demanded answers of the one man he knew at the very least had similar thoughts on the scale of this war to himself, the room was cast in silence at his inquery, all of his squadmates eyes shifted from himself to the Captain and back and forth in a procession until the Captain surprised them all by actually acknowledging it.

His Captain then surprised him by not only indulging the request but offering a firm shake of the head in reply.

"Dieter, you should know better then to ask such a thing-victory is never a certainty, never a guarantee. It like life is a fleeting thing sometimes we can only catch glimpses of it, I saw it in the fires of Side One when we battered against that wall of flesh and steel with our own blood until it soaked the stars themselves. Where we lost uncountable comrades, friends and lovers, where we abandoned our battle to focus on what was promised to be the end of the war. That too ultimately ended up in failure, so to answer the question...We will see what history has in store for us all." There was no comfort to be found in those words, no matter how true they may have rang, no matter how the revelation of their chances had been delivered however he was pleased to have been given it.

While it did nothing to answer his own questions that plagued him of motivation, and of what his duty as a soldier truly meant to him...but it did clear the way for something that could bury such thoughts beneath his duty.

The promise of the battle to come. Within battle, where his life was within his own as he fought and killed for the sake of ideals, beliefs and his superiors...he was content within the role of the soldier. Within combat he had no need to wrestle with himself for his own motivations or drives. Within that blood he could be purified if ever so temporarily, he would welcome it in fact.

He would fight, he would kill, he would fly into the fires of battle and death once again. If it was his fate to die in this war, in this coming battle-so be it. He would secure Zeon's dream to his dying breath, he owed it to himself, to the comrades that fought at his side, to those who had fallen, to all those who suffered injustice and suffering because of the Federation's petty ambitions and ideals. To the next generation of Spacenoids, he would give them a homeland which could and forever truly stand as the bastion of humanity, of what it could and was meant to be.

To that end he would continue fighting, killing and struggling onwards towards victory. Regardless of the cost to himself, to his sanity, his body, his very being, he would give up willingly. He had accepted his death when he had first put upon the uniform, or at the very least he had believed himself too...Soldiers who reached old age had failed in their duties, that old adage was something he had heard in his time in the military-and while he was uncertain if he would believe it to be true if he ever made to old age he was certain of one thing.

Whether or not this battle truly would end the war, whether or not it would justify all the death, destruction and horror that had been unleashed upon humanity...was something no one knew yet. It was left to the whims of history, of the accounts of historians portraying this chapter of history would decide how decisive this battle would become in the struggle between the Principality of Zeon and Earth Federation.

He would take part just as he was destined to, and he knew that at the battlefields of Side Five he would truly finally come to understand the true scope and cost of this war. He would finally find the resolve, motivation and determination to finally and forever steel himself to the needs of his people. To once and forever cast off the petty trappings of the base morality, and personality of who and what he had been before becoming a soldier of Zeon. He demanded it of himself, required it, if he was to actually one day lead his people...he could not have doubt, weakness or even more crippling then either of the prior two...disbelief within himself.

If he could not believe in himself, how could he believe in the homeland that had birthed him? If he could not believe in the homeland then why did he strive to achieve its destiny?The circular train of his logic came full circle and revealed the truth he already knew. His life would have no purpose if he was not a soldier, not a warrior and if that reason beyond any other...He would remain such.


January 14th, 0079

Tivvay Cruiser: Argus

Hangar

1600 Hours

The hangar reeked of fresh paint and it seemingly hung in the air so thick the fumes formed visible clouds of vapor that seemed to cling to the suit as it dried. The process however was complete, the first paint job his custom Zaku had ever received, the honor that would distinguish him apart from the sigil that was now also adorning the craft. Their unit insignia: two descending lines from the Zeon crest-he had been informed of the symbology of the marker. Typhon supposedly had in ancient greek myth resembled a massive collection of serpents and thus the unit named after such a monstrosity would bear a sigil crafted from that artistic rendering.

The lines he supposed were supposed to represent the serpent heads of the beast and the fact they were anchored to Zeon to him just seemed a reminder that even they, a collection of the greatest warriors Zeon had to offer...were subservient to the state. The stark emblem resounded all the more given its bright and almost to his eye-garish color scheme of being goldish yellow on the matte black suit. He had received nothing more then a raised eyebrow at the color choice, his reasoning had been simple. In the darkness of space, he wouldn't stand out overly, so while active sensors and even a observant eye may have been enough to pick out his Zaku from the void, it wouldn't be as easy as the standard green drab of a Zaku fresh off the assembly line. Even beyond that however, the color had struck a cord with him, it always had.

Black-the very color of his birth, he had born in the darkness of space, lived their all his days and would in all likelihood end his days there regardless of how this war came to end. It was familiar, a reminder of what he fought for, what he fought against. It would be the flag he would carry into battle for the liberation of Zeon, for the liberation of all of Humanity from the corrupt yoke of the Federation. Even so the entire frame couldn't be coated in the layer of coloring, sections of it would need to remain in standard factory coloring and of course his main camera couldn't be reconfigured to operate on a differing lense out here in the field, yet even though the entirety of his suit was not adorned in his custom coloring it was enough.

He would stand out upon the field, from the next day he fought until the last.

His C Type was a solitary hunter even among its other brothers within the hangar, no doubt if he requested it yet even more could be done it then merely changing the color scheme of the suit. Upgrades, adaptions and more were all likely under development within the homeland-the bigheads at Zeonic and Zimmad no doubt even more worked tirelessly to ensure that the newest equipment and gear would be ready for its employ upon the field. Improved thruster arrays, enhanced sensor and armor packages, upgraded weaponry and propulsion systems. All this and more no doubt would be at his behest now with this renown, within this unit no doubt all of them would be entitled to testing out the latest and greatest of the engineering marvels that were being birthed within Zeon.

No doubt the Federation would undoubtedly do the same, from their own collected battlefield data and records a new generation of weaponry would be born for their military. Yet even so Zeon had them helplessly outmatched on this front yet again, they had called mobile suits-impractical, unsuited for battle and yet now were being undone by them. The irony of this situation was no lost on him and yet this was were their societies differed in approach. The Federation walked a differing road, it pioneered not innovation but standardization, rather then testing the boundaries of the existing levels of technology, it would comfortably mass produce a armada based around the same design specifications as the last.

Their approach to technology, just like their belief in democracy, in the right of the weak, the impure and other dregs and castoffs of society to exist...marked them for destruction. Even if they did not seek to hold Zeon in enternal bondage under their thumb, they lacked the vision for the future that Zeon possessed, under them humanity would now and forever stagnate. For this and this alone, they deserved destruction, yet they were not unkind in their willingness to add motivation to hatred of them, their culture, their practice and their belief. Indeed they were only too kind in adding to the myriad of reasons to hate them, to oppose them, to see them wiped from existence.

Adaption, evolution, the path to progress and the future. Zeon strove towards perfection and with every step it grew closer and closer to it, their mobile suits were just the case and point of that. Zeon had taken the tools that had been designed for deep space construction and built a entirely new form of warfare around them, new tactics, strategies, an entire fleet built around supporting these new weapons. Yet even so he felt something within him stir uncomfortably at the notion of taking his Zaku and modifying it, it was one thing to recolor its skin and give it indicators of just who piloted it-it was another to modify its core components and what made the machine its own. He had been gifted this machine, personally by Delaz, it stood as a testament of his ability being recognized by a man one should seek to impress, to change what it was since his first outing with it at the battlefield of Side One was a notion that made his stomach squirm.

Yet even so he couldn't allow nostalgia to blind him, techology would continue to improve, the factory specifications of today would be outdone by those of tomorrow and in the endless march towards progress he couldn't let sentimentality blind him to the perfection they all strove for. His C type would one day no doubt be retried by a newer better model, yet wouldn't it be for the best if it was allowed to live on even if for a bit longer due to improvements that would undoubtedly be made to it? Customization, advancements, upgrades, he wouldn't turn them down, in fact he would seek them out. The Mobile Attack Group made up the bulk of Zeon's military R&D, so for his purposes here he was well within the right place.

In fact...he could grow to enjoy serving Kycilia if it allowed him to blend the line between machine and man just a little finer.


January 14th, 0079

Tivvay Cruiser: Argus

Mess Hall

1800 Hours

"You see the new bulletins playing on the Zeo Net the other day? All about how it is expected for the war to conclude within a few weeks at most." Emre laughed out as he took a swig of his coffee. His jovial and carefree demeanor a stark contrast with the sheer skill and ruthlessness he piloted his Zaku with. Like most within their grouping it seemed that Emre was no stranger to combat, indeed he seemed to excel in it.

"I was too busy skimming the reports from British-we lost a few ships during that fuckup." Dieter replied evenly as he sipped at his own coffee, his eyes never leaving the various reports that had been hefted upon him and his fellow lieutenant. They had been assigned to ensure that anything and everything that could be needed for the planned offensive to be aboard the ship by the time they were ready to hit vacuum and join in what could quite possibly be the grandest battle of their lives. However at his admission Emre merely shook his head in exacerbation before speaking up once again. "Dieter, I get that you want to be a good little soldier but come on-while we are at war, you should make time for something beyond it." The younger officer stared at his senior evenly before Dieter felt himself grow flush at the point.

It was true he didn't focus on much beyond just the tasks that were foisted upon him day after day, when he wasn't piloting he was undertaking the other assigned responsibilities to him. Yet even so what did he have beyond military life? His family had all but disowned him, he had no lover, wife or children...the military was his existence in simple terms. "You got a girl or wife back home? Shouldn't you be writing to her occasionally, making sure she is still aware your breathing?" His tone was conversational but the message bit deeper, was he abnormal because the Zeon military was his life? He had held no affection for a member of the fairer sex, his last dalliances had in fact been little more then stress relief with some of the few female crew members he had been stationed with and those had happened months ago.

It was not as if he wanted his line to die with him, it was not as if he did not seek affection, love...companionship yet it seemed that it sought to elude him. He had no childhood sweetheart, no long buried love interest, fate had not tore him away from the warm embrace of a lover. It simple seemed to never pan out, his few actual relationships before the military had been overshadowed by the chaos of the era, once the Principality of Zeon had been born it seemed as if actually becoming a capable and strong defender of this newly formed nation were a far more deserving cause then his own personal wants.

Yet he could tell Emre didn't want to hear about his past relationships, if they could even be called such. The man himself was quite happily married, as he would explain to anyone who would even a question even vaguely relating to it. His own daughter had just recently turned three in fact as Dieter himself knew quite well given that he had shown him the interior of his wallet and the myriad of pictures that were stuffed within it. Lieutenant Emre fought for his family as much as his homeland, and he couldn't fault him for that.

No doubt if he had invested so much of himself, of his own future into other people beyond the military he too would cherish such a thing, fight to protect such a thing. Ensure that it would not buried beneath the suffocating might of a uncaring foreign power. 'Yet at the same time, I am glad I have no reason to live beyond myself and my cause.' Truth be told, would he even be the same person with such distraction? He fought for himself, killed for himself, his life centered around himself, his nation and his place within it as a warrior.

Because of that he was able to devote himself wholly and utterly to that aim. He became a soldier who could focus solely upon honing himself and his craft, to perfecting his trade. Yet even so, he knew in his heart that this war wouldn't last forever and when Zeon emerged from this conflict as he knew it would as the rightful victor...perhaps then he could look beyond himself, beyond the military, beyond war. Until that day dawned however, he would be a soldier, a lance to be wielded by his superiors, a sword to be swung at the enemies of his nation, a shield to protect the weak of the homeland.

Just as a good Zeon soldier should be.


January 15th, 0079

Tivvay Cruiser: Argus

Primary Recreation Area

1000 Hours

He swung forward into a punch, his body shifting with him as he made contact with his opponent's chest only to feel the solid and familiar mass of muscle and flesh bend inward, before he could even claim thoughts of landing another blow the return strike followed and he was stung across the cheek as the gloved fist of his opponent scrapped against his scalp as he pulled himself back. The blow while it had not landed solidly did rattle himself what, his ear and face ached in a familiar pain. 'Got cocky, he's far faster then he looks for someone that big...' it reminded him of someone else he had fought regularly years ago.

Sweat dripped down his brow as he circled the larger man, grin adorning his face he couldn't help but marvel at the situation as it sat. While it was true that boxing was a fairly common activity within the Zeon military, both to keep morale and physical fitness up it had been quite a while since he had gotten this level of work out. Not since he had been the personal sparring partner of Dozle Zabi all those years prior when the man become the unofficial boxing champion of Zeon's armed forces, they had fought numerous times, occasionally it was for practice to keep the skills of both sharp and sometimes it was for official matches. Of course it was all monitored and recorded, no one wanted to risk a injury that would interfere with the outcome of a mission or assignment but never the less as the two men hammered into each other increasing ferocity and strength injury became almost assured.

Poulin pulled no punches and as his haymaker slammed into his guard that he had barely had time to bring up, he felt the vibrations echo across his gloved hands into the bones of his arms. This technician and pilot likely could split rivets with his bare hands if the mood struck but even so...he fought powerful men before and held his own, and while Poulin's strength and size was impressive he was nothing compared to Dozle. Indeed while Poulin had a head over him in height, Dozle had towered over him by nearly ten inches, and had possessed considerably more muscle to his bulky frame then Poulin likely could support. Yet even so he couldn't fight off the sensation of numbness that rebounded within his limbs with every impact, even as he lurched forward his right fist raised upward in a jab he knew that he was outclassed in both reach and raw strength.

However as sweat and blood stained the darker man's own face, it was clearly not as one sided as he had expected coming into his fight. Lips curling into a vicious grin he launched forward, pivoting on the balls of his feet and throwing every bit of weight into the momentum of the strike as it launched forward into the expecting man's guard-however that was when he heard the call to attention yet the blow was thrown even as it pummeled through his opponent's guard and into his jaw he could do nothing expect recall his own wearied limb back to his side after it was already over. Poulin staggered under the impact, groaning out in pain even as he tried to steady himself on his feet.

Their eyes met for a brief moment and both men gave a weary smile to each other as they stepped back tiredly. Running his fist beneath his nose and wiping away drying and wet blood he let out a groan of exhaustion, while he was not some unfit sloth like those who dwelled within the Earth Federation-nor was he a professional athlete, he was a soldier. Even so he was not in a physically intensive field such as infantry so his own personal regime had devolved from his Academy days, he kept himself fit, strong and able but the majority of his exercises were based around boosting reactivity and ensuring his own body didn't fail from the strain of piloting.

Clearly Poulin approached his training quite differently and the resulted showed...his fists, his arms, even his shoulders still ached from where he had guard against repeated blows from his fellow pilot and technician. The man was a mountain of muscle such as it was and despite his own blows inflicting fairly obvious signs of damage to his face and chest where bruises and blood still stained the larger man's frame...Dieter felt as if he had just fought against a Salamis with his bare hands.

"Good punch Kries..." Poulin groaned out as he massaged his jaw while he simultaneously he spat out his mouth guard as their superior-the Captain approached the two.

"Yeah...yeah, you too." He grumbled out as he tried to force his body to attention to show proper respect to a superior officer while at the same trying to remove his own guard to allow him to speak with out mumbling or stuttering, a task all the harder due to the blood that was present within the interior of his mouth making the piece of hardened plastic all the slicker in the moist cavern of his mouth. With a firm grip he unclasped the piece of plastic before casting it to the floor and refocusing his energy.

It took him a moment to steady himself but he brought his hand shakily to his brow in salute as Roland returned the gesture a mere half second later. "At ease, both of you." He commanded as he and Poulin both let themselves drop to the deck. It was one thing to engage in a match and then have a bit of recovery time, it was yet another to be expected to return to duty the minute after it had been called to a stop. The Captain eyed both the now sitting men with what seemed to be a cross between amusement and annoyance before he spoke again. "Be ready to disembark the Argus within the hour, Delaz has arrived at Side Five and is hailing us to come aboard the Gwadan." While that was hardly the most informative command he had received in his service he would comply.

Not to mention it would be good to see the Captain again and perhaps if he was lucky Delaz would not hold his transfer against him too harshly. After all it was not by his decree that he had left the Space Attack Force, no he had all like the rest of his unit, been picked from other detachments, even other service branches. It was all beyond him, yet even so he knew that the loathing between the Gihren and Kycilia factions within the military ran strong.

"Understood sir, I will be ready." He let out weakly as he clambered once more to his feet. He felt muscles within his back seize in argument against the sudden movement only to silence them out with sheer willpower and stubbornness. He would be ready if he was needed, Roland hadn't given any reason why they were to suddenly leave the Argus but that meant nothing. He followed orders, he was a soldier after all.

"Dieter..." He heard the call as he began to stagger towards the exit of the rec room. Turning his head back in reply he noted that Poulin had risen to his own feet and was giving him a rather blank look.

"You fight pretty well for someone so little." He said in a tone and with eyes that both shone with humor despite the beating they had inflicted upon each other mere minutes ago.

He snorted in reply and almost cried out when the act caused his sinuses to erupt once more in a flow of blood that trickled out weakly from his nose. "Yeah, and you hit pretty hard for a techie too Greg." He shot back his own grip on his nose muffling his grousing. 'Doesn't seem to be broken but it likely isn't far from it in this state...yeah I will be feeling this for a few days.' While he was still within the prime of his youth, his body showed fatigue and reaction to pain that it hadn't mere years prior. Even so it was not as if he was some old man, just yet he hadn't even reached thirty years of age after all but still...

The inescapable rigors of age reminded him in this very moment of his mortality, the fact that they were soon to be embarking upon a conquest of Side Five was just another reminder that no one knew when their time would finally be up. Yet even so he wouldn't pass off the responsibilities and expectations assigned to him. He had to live up to the recognition, the distinction, the honor that had been given to him in reward for his service. He would become the symbol of fear to the Federation, the sigil of Zeon's valor and skill upon the battlefield.


January 15th, 0079

Gwazine Battleship: Gwadan

Primary Hangar Bay

1200 Hours

Being summoned back to the Gwadan when it had entered the sector had come as a surprise to him, and presumably the entire unit however he was confident there was a reason for it. Despite his new branch of service being independent of the Space Attack Force, it was still good to heed the call of a man like Captain Delaz. However when they had boarded the ship they found it filled with hushed rumors and speculation of just what was going to occur today, this left him and the rest of his unit on edge understandably. With their primary forces arriving in the sector and rumors of yet more Federation forces streaming from every rock in the solar system towards Side Five, undeniably this would be the greatest battle of the war to date. Yet that wasn't what people spoke of it, aboard the ship they spoke of high value personage coming aboard the Gwadan later within the day, nothing more then that was specified and it mattered little who they ask, it was unlikely any save Delaz knew with certainty.

Yet that didn't prevent him from forming his own thoughts on the matter-clearly whomever it was a massively important figure within the Zeon military and yet he couldn't account for who exactly it might have been. Admiral Karn returning from his campaign at Side Two? Kycilia returning from the moon? Dozle? While had heard that Admiral Dozle was due at the front that was to break out here at any time that likely wouldn't occur until far later given that they weren't expecting the arrival of a fleet, just a single personage...who could it be? Of course this like all speculation was based upon information that was hastily thrown together, filled with inaccuracies and based around assumptions? Indeed it seemed speculation abounded of just the overall state of things as far as who this mysterious personage was, where the other Zeon forces were, if they would receive enough forces to actually offset the Federation? As it stood they possessed almost a quarter of the strength they had Side One, if the Federation tried to dig in like they did at the other front however, they wouldn't have enough forces to displace them, not without resulting to new strategies.

The few hours they spent aboard the Gwadan were filled with operational reports and status updates, it was clear that this would be the battle to decide who would rule space, while the Federation forces had them decidedly outnumbered with the collapse of their control at all Sides save One and Zeon now contesting their control of the moon itself, they had the momentum of this war firmly in their grip. However what had been mundane updates on the progress of the war as a whole shifted into a new spectrum once all hands aboard the ship were ordered to report to the launch bay, clearly whomever Delaz had been awaiting had arrived thus Typhon abandoned their skimming over document after document reporting loss and kill ratio-in a ultimately futile effort to understand the greater scope of this conflict.

Instead they like all over available personal reported down into the bowels of the massive vessel, while he had deployed from this very hangar numerous times it still him aback at the sheer size of the construct. The largest class of battleship ever constructed to date by the Principality, within its massive hangar block and it could comfortably store upwards of twenty mobile suits, nearly eight entire squads of Zaku. Yet it was vacant today, it was something he had noted when the shuttle they had come aboard the vessel from the Argus had docked, he had simply put it at the time due to the entire compliment being sent out to secure their rearward lines and screen for incoming friendly forces yet it seemed something more was at work here today.

'Someone needed room.' Whatever, whomever was coming into today likely had a large escort, or perhaps the craft they were using required the space? The Gwazine's primary hangar could seemingly fit nearly anything within it so he wouldn't be surprised if it would dock within the ship itself rather then merely attaching to a ventral launch as was common between warships. Save anything perhaps besides Musai, Chivvay or Zanzibar, it would fit. So there they stood, a procession of soldiers, men of the mobile attack group, space attack force, navy, marine alike. Technicians, infantrymen, and assorted crew for the warship, all awaiting the arrival of this VIP. With of course Captain Delaz at the head of the group, gossip, chitchat and cigarettes were spent passing the minutes as he merely glanced downward at his normal suit's inbuilt chrono before letting out a held breath it was noon-they still had to make preparations for the main offensive once the primary forces arrived, so far they had been trickling in over the prior days but a general battle plan and method of engagement had not been set down.

Perhaps with this arrival, that would change but he wouldn't hold his breath, likely whomever was incoming was merely there to convey orders from the homeland, Admiral Kycilia and Dozle were still tied up in their respective fronts, not expected for at least another day, so as his prior thoughts combatted each other, just who could this be? He honestly hadn't a clue, perhaps it would be the youngest of Zabi's Captain Garma, last he had heard he had been leading forces to secure Granada with a express path towards Von Braun but if his sister was there, it was tieing up two commanders when one would serve. He had never directly worked with Garma, so if that happened to be the case, he wouldn't be opposed to it, he had heard through the gripe vine as such things went that Garma was actually a relatively competent and skilled battlefield commander. His score of victories securing vast swaths of the moon in short order certainly seemed to lend credence to that belief yet even so he wouldn't expect Garma to arrive in this fashion.

It didn't strike him as the younger Zabi's style, unannounced until the last minute, no one informed of who exactly he was? No that didn't strike him as the type of man Garma was, he loved the fanfare and adulation of his people. When he had graduated from the Academy it resulted in a massive outpouring of congratulations and cheers for his success, he was well loved by the people. So surely the military PR department would try to spin anything relating to him to boost morale back in the homeland, yet this line of thought brought no comfort even though he had eliminated a possible identity for this individual. However it soon seemed he would find his answer when Delaz turned to a adjutant who had apparently had a line to the bridge and had reported a Komusai Shuttle of all things was requesting clearance to dock with barely a handful of seconds of warning to pressurize normal suits and prepare for hard vacuum the launch bay opened revealing the dark gray of the shuttle as it approached rapidly speeding through the blackness of the void with the crisp and controlled precision of a veteran pilot at the helm. The shuttle was nondescript except for the standard well worn sigil of Zeon adorning the tail fins it looked like like any other transport shuttle within the fleet. But as it slowed its decent and lowered its landing gear he couldn't help but feel upon edge and soon he realized why-the hangar had yet to close and barely a heartbeat after that realization occurred the shuttle's escort arrived.

Twin Zaku's painted in the standard green drab of the Principality landed gracefully beside their escort as the bay doors began to retract. He tried to identify some definitive marking or unit designation upon the models but it was difficult within the crowd, even as a officer he had several lines of people ahead of him but when the lead Zaku turned towards the crowd revealing its frontal chasis his heart seemingly stopped within its chest. He knew in that moment his face was one of pure disbelief, upon that Zaku rested one of the rarest and yet at the same time most well recognized emblems within the entire Zeon military, he had seen it before at parades, national speeches, military mobilizations and more... stenciled in jet black in stark contrast to the dark green of the armor of the C Type was the Zeon Home Defense Corps' Griffon emblem.

"Well this is certainly interesting." Emre stated amicably, even without turning to his squad member he knew that the jovial pilot had a grin adorning his place. It was obvious that he grasped the implications here and yet at the same time seemed not at all put off by the sudden arrival of a unmarked shuttle being escorted by the finest soldiers within the entire Principality. Indeed his other squad member's reactions would fall far more in line with his own in terms of disbelief and shock at the their appearance and the prospect of just who awaited all these assembled soldiers within that Komusai.

"The Royal Fuckin Guard Here?!" Poulin exclaimed at the prospect just as it rolled through his own mind. Only comprised of the greatest pilots, soldiers and service personal within the entire military, the elite units stationed at Side Three, only to be deployed when the royal family itself decreed or was itself in transit. They operated both as Special Forces and Bodyguards to the royal family. Which meant that the person aboard that Komusai aboard was...

"Lord Gihren." Drevis spat with a mixture of disdain and contempt. He eyeballed his fellow pilot for a handful of seconds tempted to smack his helmeted head for daring to speak so frankly about their commander and chief, the supreme commander of all of Zeon's military but ultimately decided against it. Disciplining the Petty Officer could come later, but it was clear that the man who originally hailed from Kycilia's forces held the heir apparent to Sovereign Degwin Zabi in the same regard as the man's sister did. The docked shuttle slowly began lowering its own outward ramp allowing passengers to disembark, seemingly just as soon as it hit the deck normally clothed officers and servicemen poured outward of the shuttle. The Komusai was hardly the largest transport craft within the fleet but even so as four openly armed soldiers, each of whom bore the same striking emblem of the Griffon upon their shoulder strolled out of the ship forming two thin lines on each side of the ramp he couldn't help but marvel at the precision and fluidity of their movement.

These were the best Zeon had to offer, units like his own-the newly formed Typhon may have been put together to comprise the best of the best of the normal forces, but the Royal Guard was the next stage up. These were individuals who were pegged during basic who showed immense talent and ability and of course the needed devotion to be selected for such a distinguished post. The next man to walk down the ramp however was not the expected one of the hour, it wasn't Commander Gihren instead a modestly tall man, his features bore the same aristocratic outline of Drevis, striking blond hair and angular features not uncommon with the ruling caste within Side Three. His uniform marked him as a Lieutenant Colonel within normal forces of the Zeon military but his shoulder patch identified him as the commander of the Royal Guard.

It took him precious seconds to place the rather notable figure, always at Gihren's side during speeches and rallies, always present in the background. Perhaps his closest confidant save Delaz himself and one of the most legendary pilots within the newly formed Mobile Suit Divisions, one of the heroes of Side Six during its liberation campaign two years prior.

Eric Mansfield. Dieter considered himself a fair enough pilot, he was skilled and durable enough to actually pilot a mobile suit without succumbing to the strain it placed upon the body, he was accomplished enough to even have his own custom color scheme awarded to him along with a medal to that effect and yet here was the man he was meant to be compared to one of the pilots hand selected by the Zabi family to entrust their very lives to him, one of the commanders of the homeland defense force and one of the most acclaimed graduates of the Zum City Academy. Yuuka had once asked if he had ever distinguished himself upon the field prior to this war, he had responded truthfully at the time, his skill was recognized by the homeland in the regard that he had been selected to carry out strafing runs within a Gobble Fighter during the anti Zabi revolts the prior year. Yet here was a man who surely outclassed him in every regard, he had flown at Side Six, was the personal aide and bodyguard of Gihren Zabi and if he ever again took the field against the Federation he would surely make them bleed far more then he could ever hope to.

Yet the legendary pilot was not the last to depart the vessel even as the Lieutenant Colonel made his way off the ramp another figure slowly descended down it, dressed in his tailored military regalia of black and gold the Supreme Commander of the entirety of Zeon's military looked every bit as impressive as he did during the last mobilization prior to the outbreak of the war. A small and angular smile adorned his lips, it was thin and somehow came across as cruel never the less as his eyes scanned the men that awaited him within the hangar cheers erupted from the bulk of it. Cries of Zabi, echoed throughout the massive chamber even as his darkened boots hit the deck of the ship, of course with the majority of those being assembled here being the personal crew of Captain Delaz himself along with attaches from the Space Attack Force the greeting was no surprise. Thunderous cheers all but rocked the ship, clearly Drevis's less then stellar opinion of their Supreme Commander wasn't shared or if it was, it wasn't announced so vocally.

With a simple raise of the hand, the Supreme Commander saluted the assembled soldiers of the Principality. With another outcry the gesture was returned, even he raised his own right hand straightened it outward. "Sieg Zeon!" He proclaimed along with dozens of others even as Drevis looked unimpressed even as he was forced into performing it along with him. 'He doesn't want to be sent back to the homeland in a casket.' Certainly failure to properly address the Supreme Commander of their nation, the second most powerful figure within it properly would be seen as a flagrant disregard of the chain of command resulting expulsion from the military, and likely court martial. If he was lucky. Yet he couldn't help but not understand Drevis's position, he bore the look of the nobility, the upper class-if that was the case then did the hostility towards Gihren solely stem from him being under Kycilia? In all likelihood he shared some familial connection with the Zabi family as most of the noble houses of Zeon did.

The leader of their people surveyed his forces for another moment before signalling Delaz forward where they began to confer with each other. He had no idea what they were talking about, but he'd bet his entire savings that it had something to do with the planned offensive in Side Five. After all Commander Gihren wouldn't travel all this way just to meet with the troops, this planned operation must have been extremely important and sensitive for him to come this far. Did that mean that British would be repeated or was this merely the prelude to another gambit by Zeon? His muses were cut off when Captain Roland gripped his shoulder and forced him to turn, his eyes met that of his superior just as he popped the clasps on his own helmet and spoke softly into his ear.

"The fleet is arriving tonight, be ready to move out by 1900 Hours." The Captain had been present for the arrival of Gihren Zabi, yet he hadn't gone anywhere, indeed he had been standing in line with the rest of their unit for the entire time. So where did this information come? As if reading his thoughts the Captain merely rapped a gloved fist against his helmet and Dieter instantly realized he must have been in communication with the Gwadan's own bridge as they tracked incoming arrivals.

Yet with the arrival of the primary fleet at Side Five, this showdown with the Federation, the next stage of the war was all but set.

From across the hangar Gihren's bodyguard caught his eye and they merely regarded each other for a moment before the Lieutenant Colonel interposed himself between Delaz and Supreme Commander Gihren as he whispered into his ear causing the heir apparent to Zeon to openly frown before giving a stern nod of the head. Before approaching the crowd of soldiers, hands grasped behind his back he spoke earnestly, and with a zealous energy that made the man a master orator. "My people, I have just been informed that the Federation is in fact sending reinforcements to Side Five as we speak here-yet have no fear we will prevail. Our retribution against the accursed people of Earth has only just begun and it is through your strength, your will that we will emerge victorious." His eyes scanned the chamber, his figure slackening before propelling into the next stage of his addressal.

"We have bloodied the beast of the Federal military, inflicted grievous losses to them and their interests within space, the purity of humanity requires this. For humanity to reach the next level, the next stage of evolution this is needed. Much of Side Two and Four are rubble for this exact reason, not only the Federation presence within the sectors but all those who sought shelter beneath its banner! We have shown them the weight of Zeon's justice, the conviction, we the superior race of Zeon carry into battle." The energy within the room was becoming tense, doubts and fears were being washed away by the weight of the son of Degwin Zabi's words.

"And the victory we will win at Side Five will be the proof of our claim, the final severance of the chains that bind the Federation to space. To that end I have approved Dozle's request, the reserve forces from Solomon are being ferried here as I speak to you here now, some two thousand Zaku II mobile suits and upwards of an additional sixty combat worthy warships to contain this undeniable force. " Roland had spoke the truth then, this was going to be it.

Zeon's all or nothing gambit to win the war, Side Five-Loum would decide the fate of this war.

The Federation forces within the colony itself would undoubtedly be bolstered by reinforcements, indeed he'd be surprised if the garrison itself wasn't already being mobilized. Zeon's objective could only be concealed so long and with so much of their military force being directed here, with forces even outstripping those that had took part in the assault on Side One or British, the time they could hide their plan from their enemies had come to a end.

Thus far this fleet only contained within a little over a dozen warships, and with the incoming fleets from other sectors and the reinforcements promised to Dozle by Gihren, this armada they were forming would easily be the largest force Zeon had ever assembled in the entirety of its history. Two thousand mobile suits...just a few dozen had fought evenly against the Federation at Side One or Two, what could more then two thousand accomplish? He knew the answer already within his heart.

Win this war, once and for all.


AN: Well there we have it the lead up to Loum, the legendary battle of the onset of war and the greatest naval conflict in the entire war until its conclusion at A Baoa Qu many months later. All the players had come upon the stage, the setting is prepared and all we need do now is merely await the grand finale of this arc of the story. Next time on Soldier of Zeon we will witness the actions of Typhon at Side Five, the first unveiling of Dieter's custom black Zaku II C in combat and perhaps my favorite element that will be present is the sheer scope of the conflict. While I depicted the battles at Side One and British as fairly large fleet engagements comprised of dozens to hundreds of warships, this is the next step up from that. Zeon is literally committing around half of its total military power to this battle and the Federation is doing even more then that, hundreds of Salamis and Magellan class warships, combatted by scores of Musai, Chivvay and Gwazine. Not to mention this is the largest gathering of mobile suits in perhaps the entire war for a single offensive for the Zeon campaign.

According to several sources I have read over the years from the Gundam entertainment bible, to individual kit descriptions and what have to actual context and details given in source material such as Igloo or various manga this is going to be a hell of show and I plan to live up to that. I hope that I am up to the task of accurately depicting such a event, expect lengthy battle scenes next chapter, entire paragraphs devoted to fleet movements and offensive and defensive formations. I hope to cover this battle as precisely and detailed as possible, because perhaps save the conclusion of the story itself, this is likely the defining moment in Soldier of Zeon. This is where Dieter earns his nickname, Typhon is recognized as a legitimate military unit and so much more. Trust me as important as this battle is to the direction of the overall pace of the One Year War it is equally important to this fic, so the next chapter will basically solely revolve around it.

As I write this author's note be aware that so far it is likely to be the longest single chapter of this fic to date just because of the scale of what I want to do with it.

Anyway I will cut this off here, please remember to favorite, follow and review.

Until next time in Soldier of Zeon

-Reborn Akatsuki