The Dilemma of Flay Allster Revised

by CSS Stravag

Side Story of Joker's Wild Set 2. Chapter 14 UP! Flay Allster, terminally confused from the events of the First Valentine War, becomes a sleeper agent for Blue Cosmos in the lands of the hated enemy, Mendel. Will she go as far as her handlers want, or walk away from the hatred she held in the first war?

10. The Speed of Destruction

(DFA Chapter 10: The Speed of Destruction)

(7 April CE 73, 1030 Hours UTC)
(Mendel Colony Military harbor area)

The dockworkers from Mendel's military harbor had the process down flat, where they had two rows of cargo exoskeletons walking material into the ship and one column of the exoskeletons headed back out of the ship for a refill. Each skeleton could carry two tons of cargo, which was technically less than a forklift, but by the same token most of the forklifts could not fit into or easily maneuver around the cargo holds of the Dominion. Mobility had to win in this case, especially when the ship needed full reloads and supplies for extended campaigning.

"The great lesson of America is twofold: one, don't let the commies wreck it for you, two, always make sure to bring plenty of beans and bullets when going the distance to kick someone's ass," Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer said sagely. "This is where we have the advantage: a soldier wins a battle, a competent commander wins a campaign, logistics is what wins wars. For all their other failings, the Americans knew how and when to shift metric assloads of material around the world to orchestrate operations. The Magi have not compromised that lesson, and herein we do the same. Never start a campaign without enough supplies for double what you expect to have to do."

Flay considered not what Gerald had said — it was nothing new to Flay — but the reason for his comment. "Allster Enterprises."

"Exactly, Flay," Gerald said. "Your company turns its manufacturing to war supplies for the Earth Alliance. We can do this campaign without trashing the production, but if this is inadvertently extended into a long-term siege action, we may have to flatten Allster Enterprises."

"We do what we have to do," Flay said with steel to voice. "I can rebuild the company if needed. The critical thing, either way, is taking down the board of directors of the company and the officers. If they live, they will dispute my ownership."

"They technically cannot," Gerald said. "I did not declare you dead when we captured you, so they have no legal standing on removing your ownership."

"Ah," Flay said, smiling. "If they move to seize assets or shares, that puts them in Capital Theft… maybe Denial of Property under Color of Law?"

"Aye, that would apply," Gerald said with a smile. "Denial of Property under Color of Law is one of the greater 'Government Abuses charges', which more often than not results in multi-decade prison sentences. It also applies to a person who attempts to use a law such as stockholder forfeiture to try to steal a dead person's assets."

"Perfect," she said. "Since my Trust is still technically in ownership of 65 percent of the company, when time comes for them, they get the choice of walking away or a bullet to the head."

"Indeed," Gerald waved one of the quartermaster officers over toward where he was standing with Flay. "What is the word, Petty Officer?"

"We're about 3000 tons total material in of the 5000 needed to do a full restock. Should have the last of the material in within 90 minutes, sir!"

"What about fuel for the engines and machines?" Gerald asked after considering other possible concerns.

"My records still show fueling, sir, no ETA on full bunkers."

"And that leaves ammo. Any word on rearmament?"

"Missile launchers are loaded full, coilguns are finishing loading, and CIWS ammo will take another 20 minutes," the Petty Officer read off his restock tablet.

"And have you received orders to pull and secure a series of antimatter warheads for the NEST gundams on the Thrones?"

"I'm not cleared for nuclear arms handling, sir. I wouldn't know one way or the other," the Petty officer answered truthfully.

"Well, have you received orders for my machine on that note? Since you are doing the restock of the ship, your men will be involved," Gerald pointed out fairly.

"No such orders yet, sir," he said after reviewing his inventory replenish worksheets.

"Got it," Gerald acknowledged, then turned around to a growler phone on the wall. "Bridge, Lightbringer, is the Captain available?"

"I'm on," Captain Soritz Jamestown answered after a moment.

"Captain, what is the status on the nuclear rearmament for my machine?" CC Lightbringer asked.

"Orders are still pending at the Star Admiral. Means he's either on crew rest or overlooked it," Jamestown answered after reading through the order packages pertaining to the Dominion to find the right one.

"Roger that. Can you have commo patch me through to the Mjolnr?"

"One moment, sir!" the commo officer shouted. After four seconds, the phone made a clicking sound twice, then a buzz, followed by another click to signal going live again.

"Mjolnr Comms, how may I route traffic?"

Gerald recognized the voice on the line as one of the Commandos that were dispersed throughout the crew. "Hey, Louie, Gerald. Can you pass me to the boss?"

"Star Admiral's down for crew rest. If you're wondering about the request for the big boomers, you could swing it by Calamira? I think she's allowed to thumbs-up-or-down that kind of request," the commo officer / commando armor sniper suggested.

"Yeah, point, but most Strategic Officers aren't willing to make those calls. Worth a try, though, so can you send me out to her?" Gerald moved the phone away from his head for a moment. "Contrary to appearances, this is nothing like ordering a pizza. Even Commando Special Weapons Officers have to go through a shit-ton of paperwork for nuclear weapons release, and I am no Commando," Gerald told Flay.

Bullshit not a Commando, Flay thought but did not say.

"Bridge, Weste," the Strategic Officer answered.

"Gerald. Are you willing to sign off on some nuclear weapons restock paperwork?" the Century Commander asked.

"Certainly, whose?" she asked after a moment.

"All of them," Gerald answered. "All four active machines need two warheads. Just in case we need to do the 'go to Hell' plan."

"Got it," Calamira said. "And… done, all antimatter warhead requisitions are authorized. I just pray we don't have a reason to use them."

To confirm: "All hands, this is Dominion bridge, be advised that we will be drawing antimatter weapons from stock on the Mjolnr, all security personnel are to report to stations for defense. That is all," the Captain declared over the ship intercom.

"Results. Just hope I don't have to set off the party favors on Luna. One has to wonder what kind of a bad day it is when I have to chase down my own nuclear weapons in a situation like this," Gerald said in a tone that sounded humorous, but Flay wasn't too sure it was intended to be.

The sensor operator considered it an interesting, and altogether frightening, lesson in how to get things done. She figured she would need the lesson in years to come, and Fate would not disappoint.

-x-x-x-

(9 April CE 73, 0340 Hours UTC)
(In orbit around Luna)

"There's something just so, well, wrong about this, but you can't deny it's hilarious," Flay said. "I mean, this song is hundreds of years old Cosmic Era time, thousands of years old in the Magi calendar, and yet it fits for this all too well."

"And in this case it's all radio work," Commander Grey said. "No atmosphere, so everyone goes on radio work, except when we have multiple machines down there dedicated to blanketing the radio frequencies with Hair Metal music. Or worse."

"Worse, Commander?" Flay asked.

"I heard a disco song on the airwaves about twenty minutes ago," she said deadpan.

"That sounds painful," Gerald said with a hint of humor. "At least Hair Metal is off-and-on hard. No such luck in the Disco genre. Of course, the Hair Metal / Classic Rock / Alternative smorgasbord is just the warmup. Once the battle drops into full swing, the playlist goes over to Metal, Grunge, Industrial, Thrash, similar."

"Okay, serious question here, why the music over the airwaves? Wouldn't it be just as easy to disrupt the commo with static or electronic buzzing?" Sensor Operator Tiara Graley asked.

"Easy enough? Yes. Psychologically damaging? Nowhere near," Gerald answered after he made some selections on his command console. "Radio, have the Thrones follow us down, we'll hit Ptolemaeus from the southeast, draw their defenses in a second direction."

"On it, sir," Petty Officer Atlas Lamongue acknowledged.

"Psychologically damaging? Isn't that illegal?" Tiara continued the line of questioning.

"Not at all, and even if it was considered illegal under the Hague or Geneva conventions, it would not apply under a Trial of Annihilation," Captain Jamestown said.

"The radio blanketing will have an effect on their ability to coordinate, but in this case I expect the music won't cause too much of a problem for them," Gerald explained. "The psych warfare campaign has the best effect over time: after repeated battles where we have defeated enemy formations, broken their morale several times, the presence and types of music creates a psychological correlation effect. After enough defeats and destruction in formations of enemy forces, it becomes assumed that hearing metal music becomes psychologically synonymous with approaching death. After five or six good assbeatings, just turning a Catapult PW 'mech speakers on with Nightwish blaring will cause formations to break, and after ten or twelve such repeats, whole armies have been known to mutiny at the sound of heavy drums over the hills. We did it a lot on heavily-contested worlds during the Star Empire Wars, and the results were impressive."

"Dude, I gotta see that in action, sir," Sensor Operator Nikko requested.

"You will, Nikko, you will," Gerald commented. "If you want to see a historical use of Psych Warfare, look into New Avalon N6533 (1) during the Quarter War. We ended up fighting a tit-for-tat campaign against the Negaverse on that world for two years, with heavy use of the psych warfare being one of the major factors in our eventual victory."

"I gotta see this," Nikko said as he wrote up a personal reminder to that effect.

"Conn, Helm, we've arrived at IP (2), ready to commence descent."

"Begin descent pattern, Ensign," the Captain said to the helmswoman.

"Serious faces on, people. Time for the shit and the fan to collide," Commander Grey said.

"I'm going to prep for launch," Gerald declared. "Any thing you want me to see to first, Soritz?"

"So far, nothing spectacular. That will change after we get on the ground, though. You still thinking about putting those monstrosities on the ground?"

"Oh, yeah," Gerald said. "I had the Thrones pack 'em in for a reason. Might as well put them to good use."

"Holy shit, this I have to see," Soritz said with a smile.

"What is he talking about?" Flay asked after the Century Commander was off the bridge.

"Dunno," Commander Grey said. "But, knowing CC Lightbringer, if Soritz has a woody about it, this one is going to be worth watching."

-x-

(20 minutes later)

"All right, troopers. Drop your socks and grab your throttles, we have 212 kilometers of march between our Davy Crater LZ and the southeastern approaches to Ptolemaeus," Lightbringer

"Ain't this going to be a problem, landing this close to Ptolemaeus and Arzachel?" Argus asked after the combined ground forces began their movement south from the crater LZ toward the eastern area of Mare Cognitum.

"Not really, if Arzachel wants to join the party, their first concern is going to be Malthus' 3rd Cluster of 'mechs in the Alphonsus Crater area. Bigger target, closer to home," Gerald pointed out fairly. "Also, we will have aerospace and suborbital cover, and the ships will be tagging along, so we have plenty of firepower to go around."

"Point me in the right direction, boss, I'm good for it," Clotho said.

"Nav point Alpha is your first destination. And don't be shy about maxing out your run speed, we're running at a fraction of a Terran G, so even the slower Heavyarms can get a hundred kilometers per hour on this terrain."

"We can probably do better, sir, if the three slowest machines take up deck guard on the ships while the rest of us form a vanguard," Stella pointed out. "If we put the Calamity, Heavyarms, and the Mark 5 on the ships, the whole force could get 150 kilometers minimum an hour."

"Party time in roughly 80 minutes, sir," Alicia Yamato pointed out the expected arrival time.

"Do it. Argus, Oruga, up top on the Dominion."

"Can do, sir!" Oruga hammered his jump jets to catapult up to the foredeck of the warship.

"I hear you, boss," Star Commander Kelley Freelander jumped her Gundam Mark 5 up to the foredeck of the Thrones at the same time as the others, before the Century Commander said anything to that effect.

"All right, throttles down, people. Warships, hold behind us at ten kilometers, be ready for fire calls. Move it like you got a purpose!" Gerald was the first to hammer it, using his hover-boosters to accelerate forward at a pace over a hundred kilometers per hour over the lunar dusts.

"Not happening, sir!" Stella did not take more than 20 seconds to catch up to her commanding officer, the Gaia gundam having been designed expressly for overland rapid transit.

"Fucking Gundam races," Argus groused as the other machines in the units took off at sprint, hover, or even tracked rolling speeds well in excess of common sense. "Think I'll just sit back and watch. My money is on Kingfisher, he's a sneaky bastard."

"Nah, not even close. Stella's keeping pace with Gerald just on running. She puts her jets into work, she's got a clear lead," Oruga gauged.

"Clotho by some distance," Flay made her opinion known. "Raider's designed for flight operations, the rest are ground units."

"She has a point," Oruga admitted to himself.

-x-

(40 minutes later, 0445 UTC)
(Approaching edge of Ptolemaeus crater southeast approaches, headed to nav point 5 of 16)

"Lightbringer, Weste," the Strategic Psionic 'pinged' him from orbit.

"Go," Gerald responded immediately.

"Shadow reports 'broken wall'. Do you have any revised command groups to send before they lose contact?" Calamira requested.

"Negative, continue as planned. We are still 40 minutes outside the Ptolemaeus rim area. What is the status of the other battlefronts?"

"Ptolemaeus North is bogged down, heavy resistance for Alpha and Delta Clusters. Western reaches reported heavy contact, including a prototype machine not unlike the Psycho Gundam, but have since reported clean advance into the facility. We should have Mobile Suits inside the Ptolemaeus superstructure here shortly."

"And the southeast engagement?" Gerald asked.

"Yankee Cluster reports heavy fighting on the north end of Alphonsus Crater, though they do have units in sight of the Ptolemaeus Rim," Wayne answered that part for the Strategic Officer. "The sooner your teams push in and clear some of the heat on the southeastern front, the sooner we can open up a new line of attack into Ptolemaeus."

"We're on it, Star Admiral," CC Lightbringer reported.

"Tangos ahead, Century Commander," Star Commander Haroun Bosko reported over the conversation with the Star Admiral. "I have three artillery posts, five gun posts, and a half-dozen Mobile Suits in the approach valley to Nav Foxtrot."

"MPIWS (3) strikes again," Gerald admitted with a savage tone to his voice. Star Commander Bosko was piloting the Gundam GP00 / Blossom that Kika had repaired and reengineered to working some time ago, lending enhanced sensor systems to the Thrones' gundam team. "Slug the site coordinates to the Dominion and Thrones, Bosko, we'll let the warships draw first blood. Jamestown, Freeman, scratch the static sites with long-range fire of your choice, don't worry about the mobile suits. We'll deal with them in ten minutes once we get close.

"Got it," Captain Jamestown said. "We've got good coordinates, releasing missiles for attack."

"Same here," Captain Freeman announced.

Five seconds after the missiles were away: "The missiles will destroy all the sites and two of the Mobile Suits," Gundam Pilot Cole James said matter-of-factly.

"Huh? How do you know that?" Clotho asked.

"Newtype and Psionic skills," Cole reported simply.

"You all know I am a newtype by my illusion skills," Gerald said. "Cole is an even more powerful Newtype than I am. Be afraid, kids."

"The Strike Dagger, two Dagger L, and a Duel Dagger will survive," Cole said four seconds before the first missile broke open to release submunitions.

"If you have an angle, tale the shots," Gerald said.

"I can't even see them from here," Clotho admitted.

"Stand by," Cole discharged four of his DRAGOONs from the Providence's massive backpack, then directed the weapons into the distance. The impact and explosion of missiles preceded the remote weapons by ten seconds, but after the dust began to clear a series of green beams were visible at the foot of the crater wall. Two more beams after the first volley presaged an explosion, followed by three beams and a second explosion. "Done."

"Holy shit, dudes," Clotho gaped at the implied carnage in the distance. "We're ten freaking minutes run time away from being in normal gun range, and the fight's already over."

"Just like the stories of the Elmeth from the One Year War," Alicia Yamato said in clear awe. "Domination of the battlescape from outside the engagement range of any known enemy force."

"To counter a Newtype, you need a Newtype, preferably with a more powerful machine," Gerald said. "Since the Earth Alliance is predisposed to get rid of any 'genetic abominations' such as Newtypes, they lose by default."

"Lightbringer, Allster," Flay requested.

"Go," Gerald said immediately.

"If Newtypes are a genetic issue, does this mean the Magi have knowledge of the involved genetics?" she asked.

"Yes and no," Gerald answered. "The specific genetic sequences for Psionics and Newtype are known. The specific manifestations and net power of those disciplines are not genetic or not properly understood as genetic, they are more often conditioned. That is how the Lightbringer Bloodheritage is 92 percent Newtype and 78 percent Psionic across the board, but the individual results vary wildly."

"Guess you scored high, boss," Auel said with a grim chuckle.

"And I'll be the first to admit that is not always a good thing," Gerald concluded the thought.

-x-

(25 minutes later, 0510 Hours UTC)
(Approaching Southeastern Gulch, 30km from Ptolemaeus Crater Rim)

"Lightbringer, Allster, warning, you're headed for a troop concentration. Yankee Cluster reports the gulch you're headed for has two companies of Mobile Suits and some other forces in it," Flay reported.

"They haven't seen us yet?" Clotho asked in mild shock.

"They have to stay down in the gulch to avoid easy spotting by our forces," Star Colonel Tellos pointed out the issue with their hiding spot.

"With the position they're in, they can either fail to play or they play to fail, there is no real hope of them winning in this case," Gerald pointed out. "Though, all things considered, I'm not in the mood to play nice with their death wish. Soritz, the Absinthe is approaching overhead. Call a fire mission."

"Roger that," Captain Jamestown said. "Absinthe, this is Dominion, requesting suborbital fire mission."

"Go for fire mission, Jamestown," Captain Anastus Holmes answered immediately.

"Requesting clean sweep enemy held terrain feature, lunar gulch southeast of the Ptolemaeus crater. Gulch center point uploaded as location X-ray. What is your available time on target?"

"Time on target will be however long it takes, stand by," Anastus answered. "Helm, Conn, take us into suborbital holding pattern over the Southeast Reaches. Weapons, hammer that fissure with guns and don't stop shooting until we stop seeing secondary explosions from them, follow?"

"I get the feeling we're about to see something rather awesome," Shani said.

"You're about to see a rare trick of warship captaining," Gerald said. "Called the Frasier Park-n-Stomp by older hands. Done right, it creates a stationary fire platform over an area of a planetoid. Done wrong, your warship plows ass-first into the planetoid you're trying to do this to."

As the Absinthe approached the suborbital reaches over the gulch, the forward and broadside guns fired on the planetoid below, some aimed toward Ptolemaeus and its remaining stationary defense emplacements, the remainder aimed into the gulch. Especially damning were the Naval Autocannons fired into the fissure, with the tracers of their volleys walked from south to north across the forces camped within.

Once the ship reached a certain point, it rotated first to face away from the moon, then partway between away from the moon and to the west. The massive interplanetary engines lit off, slowing it and establishing a stationary orbit nearly directly over the fissure.

"Oh, that's nuts, but I see what it's going to do. Once they're parked, they just face away from the moon and burn their engines at a constant thrust to hold altitude," Shani said with an evil chuckle to cap it off.

"Inventive," Stella admitted.

"Guys, hard contact! Dead ahead!" Sensor Operator Tiara half-shouted.

"What the hell is that thing?" Oruga asked. "Fuck it, I've got this," he said as he brought his Schlag beam cannons down on target and fired four pairs at the monstrosity. The first pair went over the target, the other trio of pairs struck some kind of energy shield projected from the machine.

"Guess you don't got it," Auel said. "It's like someone mated a crab to a Mobile Suit centaur-style and called it a good idea." The Mobile Suit part fired several beams at the Gundams while they continued marching forward, though of the six hits only one struck a Gundam and not a shield, but did not cripple the machine.

"Stella, I've got a plan. Follow me in!" Shani hammered his jets and angled the shields forward to stop any beams coming in his direction.

"I see it! Suppressing fire!" Cole James brought his beam rifle up and began firing rapidly on the machine, forcing the pilot to keep his shield up.

"Suppress the accompanying Mobile Suits as well!" Gerald fired off-axis from the crab-walker to prevent the enemy Mobile Suits from disrupting Shani's plan.

"Dominion shall help," the paired Gottfried cannons fired in series at the enemy machine, one pair struck, one missed.

Shani considered that the shield being up made identifying where it was and was not defended easier, which simplified the planning phase. As he rushed the machine, it could not fire on him through the shield, but once he got around the shield was another story. Still, the Forbidden had the perfect solution for that already, and Shani knew how to make it reality.

Just before he arrived at the shield, Shani hammered to the left, ducking around and under the outside edge of the shield and in toward the exposed flank of the crab-walker. Past the shield, his scythe came up and into the right shoulder of the enemy machine's human torso, preventing the use of the beam rifle. Partway down the flank of the enemy machine, he fired four rounds of railgun into the side of the crab body, then turned toward the mobile suits behind the main enemy's walk path. "Do it, Stella!"

"Got it!" Gundam Pilot Loussier rolled under the shield edge the same way Shani did, but her aim was lower with a beam saber, and removed two legs to render it incapable of walking. With it stopped, Stella took the barrel of her beam rifle, jammed it into one of the holes caused by Shani, and fired four rounds into the body of the machine. After the third shot, it stopped moving and the pilot's hatch ejected the three crewmembers clear of the body. "He's down!" Stella reported after she realized why the enemy would eject so quickly.

Shani closed up on one of the two survivor Mobile Suits, punched its head clear off, and fired a burst of 115mm arm-mounted machine cannon down into the body of the Mobile Suit. Oruga sniped the last from the foredeck of the Dominion, four beams at range was more than ample to bring the battle to a close.

"We make a decent team," Stella told Shani as after she returned the scythe to the Forbidden.

"I think we do," Shani admitted after a moment of considering it.

-x-

(20 minutes later, 0530 Hours UTC)
(Southeastern Rim, Ptolemaeus Crater)

"Sweet mother of Mercy," Star Colonel Elena Waterly gasped after her machine crested the top of the crater rim. "We'd need the two-gigaton rail gun shells to drop this place in one shot."

"No such desire," Gerald reminded NEST Operator Isis. "We are here to capture Ptolemaeus, not stove it in."

"Just thinking aloud, sir. I want some real estate here in the base for my Gundam, just as a tea-bag event, you know?"

"We'll all get some shore leave here shortly, but for me, I am going to transition over to my Neue Ziel for some over-the-surface hunter-killer missions against the stragglers." Gerald flipped a switch on his radio console. "On, Solace, awaken," Gerald ordered on the C3i circuit.

"I am awake, Gerald. What are thine orders?" the voice of the artificial intelligence entity in his Mobile Armor asked.

"Deploy from Mjolnr, land in warship bay seven-sierra-echo. I will transfer from the Physalis for heavy operations skirmishing."

"Acknowledged. Arrival time at location shall be twelve minutes," the Mobile Armor reported. After a moment, the radio clicked, signaling a change in frequencies. "Mjolnr Flight Control, requesting immediate clearance to launch for ferry to Ptolemaeus hangar."

"Angel Zero, Flight, cleared for immediate launch."

"Twelve minutes, people," Gerald said, pointing into a Mobile Suit access door for the warship dock in question. "Enter and clear."

"Man, this fat lady you have doing the singing today is loud and noxious," Star Colonel Tellos griped, though he was also the first in motion.

"I ain't heard no fat lady," Alicia Yamato made a sprint for the access hatch, and was the first to enter the ingress ramp.

"The fat lady, it's always the fat lady, there's this obsession with the fat lady, why not some scrawny bikini model?" Clotho asked nobody in particular.

"The bikini models are the main attraction, the fat lady wraps it up," Flay answered her subordinate pilot's misunderstanding.

"Hey, what music is that?" Oruga asked after the opening bars of singing in a song that was wildly different from the common Magi playlist.

"It's Latin and German," Gerald answered as he followed Shani down into the warship dock. "Das Tier In Mir — The Animal In Me, literally translated. It speaks of a man, becoming an animal and hunting others in the forests. Operator, do an artist search?"

"Way ahead of you, sir," Flay answered, typing sounds in the background provided evidence thereof. "Band's name is E Nomine. Early 2000s AD electronica band, in the natural history. Says here the band never existed in the original Magi history."

"E Nomine. Latin again, means 'In The Name Of'. It's commonly seen in a religious context, E Nomine Patris, 'In The Name Of The Father'. There is a longer version, but my Latin is a bit rusty and I know I'll hamburger it, so I'll spare trying."

"Referring to God," Shani pointed out of the name.

"Clear the channel, approaching the entry for the dock," Alicia Yamato said.

"Enter and clear," Gerald ordered.

Alicia was the first to enter, followed quickly by Stella, then Tellos and Sting. It was the last that had the comment de rigeur: "We throw a party, nobody shows up," Gundam Pilot Oakley commented dryly.

"Hangar appears clear, boss," Tellos pointed out.

"Man, where is the fun in that?" Clotho asked.

"I dunno, but you may want to find that fat lady and get her warmed up, looks like we're done here," Gerald commented as his machine entered into the bay. "One partially built Nelson-class hull, four equipment cranes, and no personnel in the room whatsoever."

"And nine unused ship berths," Stella pointed out. "Can we land the Dominion in here?"

"Oh yes we can," Gerald answered. "Only problem is, we have bigger fish to fry. Dominion, Thrones, Prepare to move on Daedalus per our mission planning."

-x-x-x-

(20 minutes later, 0555 Hours UTC)
(Archangel-class Warship Thrones, Approaching Daedalus base (200 kilometers out))

"MRE, sir," the chief mechanic for his Gundam tossed one in the cockpit hatch, which Star Colonel Tellos had no problem catching.

"Ah, Chili. Thou art a scholar and a gentleman, Hikaru," he said.

"Uh-huh," the female Chief Mechanic answered with sarcasm to voice. "I'm going to spare you the usual wheeze, you crotchety old nuke-jock." She nonetheless pointed to her mildly prominent chest, as a reminder that she was not a man.

Tellos began tearing into his MRE after he closed up and repressurized the cockpit. " 'We gotta sink the Bismarck to the bottom of the sea,' " he sang along in tune to the song (4) that was playing over one of the multiple radio channels while working on opening up his chilli packet without getting it all over the inside of his cockpit. One of the inducted (abtahka) Coordinators from the Republic of Southeast Asia from the first war had looked through the radio protocol programming the Magi used, and decided she could do better. Four hours of coding later, she had the traditional music channel subdivided into sixteen, and freed up some wasted bandwidth from the old setup to help with C3i telemetry in the network.

Three spoonfuls into his MRE main course, his radio panel lit up. "Raid warning raid warning raid warning!" the Thrones Operator 3 shouted. "High Energy Event detected Daedalus Lunar Base!"

Tellos flipped a preset switch on his radio console. "Ai, Kingfisher reporting. Feed me."

"Kingfisher, be advised enemy has fired a high-gigajoule-class particle cannon at the Mjolnr by way of bouncing it off a reflector satellite. Cannon is a stationary edifice at Daedalus."

"Status of Mjolnr?" Tellos asked immediately.

"Shot clean through, burned a several-meter-wide scorch through it side to side. She'll live."

"Options?" Tellos asked.

"The Mjolnr will be in a position to fire the rail guns at it in roughly 45 minutes. Estimate Daedalus cannon firing time in 20 minutes."

"Fuck, no good, they won't miss a second time," Tellos estimated. "I'm going in. Upload my emergency release codes."

"Doing it now."

Tellos began throwing switches to fire up his fusion reactor. "Attention hangar staff, this is Kingfisher, I am executing priority deployment immediately. Disconnect the refuel pipes and stand clear; I have more than enough go-go juice for this mission."

"Understood, good luck," his Chief Mechanic said. "Come back alive, Tellos."

"Not likely," Tellos said. "Ai, need a map of the base for optimum placement."

"Stand by," the area map took several seconds to generate, but it was up on his right monitor quickly enough. "Okay, I see what I need to do already. Set me a target point 300 meters north of the cannon housing."

"Done. Your emergency release codes are uploaded, warhead should be ready to go now."

"Bridge, Kingfisher, emergency deployment protocol. Authorize a cat-shot or I want to know why."

"Right catapult is powering up now, ten seconds. Good luck, Kingfisher," Captain Holmes answered.

Tellos didn't walk his machine into place, he used the jump-jets to get into position faster. "NEST One, Kingfisher, Deploying Hot!" he shouted as the Catapult showed green, then began the launch sequence. His Gundam was down the pipe and out over the lunar dusts in seconds.

-x-

Gerald had been riding along with Dominion, his Neue Ziel reaping what few Mobile Suits survived the missiles and guns of the ship or Oruga's beam cannons. Though not strictly designed for planetary combat, the Neue Ziel was otherwise usable above the surface of a low-gravity planetoid like Luna, so long as there was no atmosphere to fight. The Neue Ziel fit no definition of aerodynamic and would be quickly torn apart by wind resistance in such flight conditions.

The firing of Daedalus' beam cannon was a rude shock to the Century Commander, given the Psionics had not twigged to its existence. He figured a review of intelligence gathering was in order for that oversight, but more pressing matters were at hand.

"Gerald, we're not going to be in position to fire for 45, maybe 50 minutes," Wayne reported. "What options do you have?"

"We're ten minutes out, I have twenty machines and two warships. We'll make something happen," Gerald answered.

"NEST One, Kingfisher, Deploying Hot!" the Star Colonel shouted on the general frequency.

"Who ordered NEST onto the field?" Century Commander Lightbringer asked after he heard the launch call. the Neue Ziel visually tracked the launched Physalis as it slowly dropped to the dusts of Luna, then hammered toward the base by hover jets.

"I'm out on my own, sir," Kingfisher answered. "Isis and Hellion are still back on the ship. This is a one-man job, just as I did way back in the day under your orders."

Gerald choked up at such a thought, given the prior mission had been a limited release, not a 500-megaton whopper as he intended now. "The Mjolnr can do this just as easily — "

"Don't bother, boss-man," Tellos cut the Century Commander off. "We both know the shells on the Mjolnr are our go-to-hell trump card. We don't need to waste strategic devices like that, when we need them to have an angle on their mainland. I've got this shit, and the Mjolnr will not be in position to safely fire for an hour. That gun will be ready to fire again in twenty minutes."

Gerald slammed his radio console, but not hard enough to damage it. He knew what Tellos envisioned, and he knew that the Star Colonel would not be walking away alive from this mission. "Okay, you win, you crotchety old nuke-jock," Gerald conceded. "I'll lead you in and clear out some of the dust bunnies. You slay the hairball for good."

"I'm going to have to get real close to make sure it's done right, so they don't intercept the missile early," Kingfisher admitted. "There's no room for a second shot. I don't expect I'll be coming back from this one."

Gerald was silent for several seconds. "One way to glory, old friend," he said, half-ass quoting the Old Emperor and one of his favored laments.

"Time to make it one last good ride," Kingfisher agreed. "Ai, Kingfisher, you online?" He requested on the C3 channel after a moment of considering options.

"I am active and recording," the Mjolnr's Artificial Intelligence entity answered.

"You know how this is going to end. I want to make them quake in fear for it. Play it loud on all their systems, and play a good one."

"Understood," the AI entity answered.

-x-

After the first few seconds of guitar, Gerald laughed at his choice of song. "I have the lead. It is time for the Archangel of Solace to ride again!"

" 'A force of light, an angel, sent through time to destroy; avenging the dark ones, descending angelic force,' " Kingfisher echoed the first set of lyrics from the song Gerald had adopted as his psychological theme, The Hunter by Iced Earth. When combined with his Archangel Of Solace Newtype Illusion, which turned his Neue Ziel into a massive six-winged angel of destruction inside the confines of enemy minds, it incited panic in more than 90 percent of enemies.

Kingfisher hung back deliberately, allowing the Neue Ziel (U) to move forward of his own flight path. He wanted to burn the illusion into his mind, one good sight of an Archangel reaping the dusts of Luna before he nuked the Daedalus base in an effective kamikaze attack.

The Neue Ziel Archangel slid back and forth, firing as it went, beam cannons, machine cannons, even missiles reached out and splattered Mobile Suit after Mobile Suit. Some missiles were returned, and a few even hit, but their myriad beam weapons were ineffectual against the composite I-field system on the Mobile Armor. After three minutes of hard music, hard maneuvering, and hard shooting, two battalions of Dagger MS had been dropped into the sands, leaving a mostly clear path to Daedalus.

"Okay, Kingfisher, I've plowed the road. The rest is yours. Gods rest ye, nuke-jock."

"Make sure the LOGOS douchenozzles get to join me in Hell, and we'll call it even," Kingfisher requested. "NEST one, going live. Ai, Nuclear Attack by Sabaton, please," he requested as his last song on the way out. Kingfisher maintained the throttle to the maximum, which burned fuel at a prodigious rate but without an atmosphere to slow him down he simply kept gaining velocity.

"You cheeky bastard," Gerald commented before Kingfisher locked the barrel assembly into the warhead system on the nuclear bazooka.

"Entering emergency release code and authorization," Kingfisher noted even while he did a side-slip maneuver to dodge around a Windam that was trying to close on him. "Warhead unlocked, I'm going for it!" Another Windam tried his luck, but a timely burst of 60mm APFSDS to the chest rendered his machine unusable.

"This is Lightbringer, raid warning, raid warning, raid warning, antimatter weapons release at enemy base Daedalus! All forces take cover or clear the area!"

"Raid warning acknowledged," Star Admiral Centara responded. "May Existence have mercy on their souls."

Kingfisher changed his jet directions and drove the throttle down past the mechanical stop into the emergency thrust power band. He considered that overheating the engines was no big deal today, since the likelihood of survival was near zero. In five seconds, his Gundam was several hundred meters above the dusts of Luna, with a clear view into the Daedalus crater.

" 'Warned but did not heed!' " Kingfisher echoed the last lyric of the song he heard before he pulled the trigger. "HELLO BOYS! NOW SAY HELLO TO MY LIT— " He never finished the taunt before the warhead detonated. Immediately, all of his monitors flashed blue-white at a blinding luminosity, followed by the antimatter blast busting through his cockpit door. The last thing Star Colonel Tellos could remember seeing was an advancing wall of blue-white energy as the antimatter annihilated everything in its path.

-x-x-x-

(9 April CE 73, 1215 Hours UTC (0715 Local))
(Route 61 and Park Lane, Muscatine, Idaho, Old United States Territory)

Hannibal, Missouri had been selected because it had several major state, interstate, and expressway heavy roads from which a Ghost Team could hitch a ride to pretty much anywhere in the North American theater as needed.

The US 61 Highway literally ran from New Orleans in the deep south (Gulf Coast area), through the heart of Hannibal, Missouri (and within 2 kilometers marching distance of the Ghost Base), to a northern endpoint 'within pissing distance' of the Canadian border (as per Meghan Garibaldi's description of distance — the actual distance to Canada was over 300 kilometers). Since it was not one of the major Expressway roads, truck traffic on the old US Highways was inspected far less than on the super-slab roadways, which reduced the chances of being discovered.

Though, sometimes the purpose wasn't to be 'not discovered'. After Mendel II, the purpose had become 'to make someone bleed'.

"Coffee and doughnuts after we're done here?" Thomas asked as the four riders hopped off the back of the flatbed truck they had been dead-heading a ride on.

"I'm more interested in the breakfast burrito at that Taco Bell," Meghan pointed to the ancient fast-food restaurant on Cleveland Street, a block south of their present road.

"Old car lot, converted to Blue Cosmos recruiting and induction," Hawk Longfeather pointed to the southeast corner of the intersection, where a few Earth Alliance deuce-and-a-half trucks were being joined by a slow trickle of civilian cars this morning.

"Fuck 'em. Low value target at this point, we might hit them on the way back," Meghan pointed out.

"What are you thinking, Meghan? Get inside, or do it from outside?" Amina asked as the five marched northeast, parallel to the 61 Highway in the grass ditch to the side of the road. Out in the ditch, only the purest bad luck would result in a vehicle-on-Ghost collision.

"Not sure so far. We'll demo that bridge when we cross it," the Star Commander answered.

300 meters of roadside ditch gave way to Cleveland Street, followed by another 100 meters of ditch to get to the parking lot of the factory used by the Earth Alliance for manufacture of body armor and web harnesses — valuable commodities even for the Magi, but elimination of the factory had been tasked by the AI as a war-critical operation. This was the only major manufacturer of body armor in North America, and eliminating their production capacity was considered highly likely to reduce enemy capabilities over time.

"Lot of truck docks we could use," Thomas said.

"Burning three shifts, anticipating war," Hawk Longfeather pointed out.

"Chances are, they're not anticipating this," Thomas pointed out fairly.

"Oh hell no they're not," Meghan said. "There, open dock door, fifth bank of docks, fourth truck dock."

"Easier still, chief, forklift door standing wide open, fourth dock bank," Amina pointed out after a moment's more marching.

"You win. Make for the forklift area, but keep to the grass by the front entrance so we don't get run over by a forklift," Meghan changed up the plan.

The four Ghosts continued their tight-group march across the parking lot, though since they were connected to the fusion reactor pack on Meghan's armor, they had no trouble keeping their Ghost Cloaks cranked high enough that they could run to dodge cars when needed. Shift change was coming up, and at 0730 Lima the dedicated employees were beginning to show up for duty, while some stragglers were working to escape their job early. Still, for veteran Ghosts, anything short of wall-to-wall traffic was doable, and this factory did not (as of yet) have that kind of staffing changeout.

Up to the front entrance, the grass yard in front of the small office area, and the Ghosts were safe. "All right, catch your breath and prepare your inferno limpet mine launchers. It's game time."

"Ready," Hawk reported first.

"Good to go," Thomas answered next.

"Hell yes, game time," Amina said last.

"Disconnect and prepare to go solo. Rendezvous over by that wedding house when done. You know the drill."

Three charging cables ejected from the other Armored Ghosts, then reeled back into the fusion power pack on Meghan's backpack assembly. With that done, four Ghosts started their march into the factory.

To any group of persons, there is something of a normalcy bias involved in all of their actions. One of those defining biases is that the average person does not deliberately look at objects above or below their height unless they are obstructing a walk path or are grossly unusual to the point of drawing attention. As such, a three-story factory that employs 1000 people may have roughly 20 or 30 that would actively look at the roof beams or areas below tables or shelving units. For a factory that employed 300 persons, those numbers were below 10.

Amina took the northern segment of the factory building, with material storage and receiving facilities. 4 gas-launched 5-kilogram Inferno limpet mines, two on the roof beams, one on the bottom side of the top shelf of incoming ballistic nylon fabric rolls, and one manually applied to the bottom of the receiving computer terminal desks, and her job was done.

Thomas took the west side of the center of the factory, where the incoming Nylon and Kevlar was cut into the patterns needed and sewn into that world-recognized body armor shape. Another two mines on the roof beams, a third on the bottom of a work table, and his fourth went on the back of a freestanding sewing machine that exactly matched the color of the limpet mine.

Hawk had the same four mines as the others, but he also carried a larger 20-kilogram satchel charge of White Phosphorous and Thermite bricks. This was deemed necessary for the ballistic plate machines, to make sure their production ended and stayed ended. Hawk put all four of his inferno charges on the roof beams, since there was no real convenient place to hide them in lower areas, but the satchel charge was a gimmee: he placed the charge on top of one of the armor plate presses toward the center of the operation, where it would not be visible to most passers by but had a detonation radius that would cover all the presses.

Meghan had the entire southern third of the building to herself, which was all warehouse for finished product. Only one of the limpet mines went up to the roof beams and one went below a shelving unit, the other two she spirited on top of piled body armor on the shelving units, out of plain sight. Her last act was to put a 25-kilo cratering charge in the building's southwest corner, where the natural gas service entered the structure. By blowing the gas pipes into the building, the burning inferno gel would create a flashback fire that would ensure the factory was permanently unusable.

All the devices were running off a common timer, which gave them ten minutes to plant and escape. The last person out of the structure was Thomas, with six minutes thirty seconds to go.

-x-

At the former car sales shop, now a Blue Cosmos recruiting station, Hawk decided that today was a good day to make an example of some Blue Cosmos terrorists.

The front doors of the facility stood wide open, waiting for people to enter to hear why they should be signing up for the Earth Alliance OMNI forces or Blue Cosmos groups. So far, a group of thirty persons had already congregated in the showroom floor, looking to sign up based on the news reports of Mendel's 'savage and unprovoked' attack on Ptolemaeus. Naturally, the news articles left out that the impetus of such an attack was the nuclear destruction of Mendel II, but Hawk expected such disinformation from an Earth Alliance mouthpiece media group.

Getting inside the structure was dead simple for the Ghost. With a door standing wide open, there was no hope of him being identified by something moving by unseen forces. "Okay, news update from my source, all three bases on the moon have fallen. They did Daedalus with an antimatter warhead, savages," the Blue Cosmos recruiter said to the seated patrons. "So, they have two intact bases on the moon, and a third destroyed. That means their next stop is here, Earth. They'll do us, they'll do the Eurasians, and they'll probably do the Republic of East Asia. Since this is a Trial of Annihilation, it means they'll kill everyone or sterilize the survivors — "

Hawk Longfeather drilled the speaker in the head from five meters with his silenced .45 pistol. Several persons screeched, but nobody in the seats moved, fearing that motion would attract a shot for themselves.

"Wrong form of Annihilation," Hawk said as he approached the deceased recruiter and kicked the body out of the chair. Once the body hit the ground, he deactivated the Ghost Cloak, which caused more gasps and a few muffled screeches. "He speaks of old Clan ritual Annihilation. Not used by Magi. Government, military, military-industrial is what we target." He raised his pistol and fired four rounds into another BC recruiter, then holstered it.

"Why here? Why now?" a guy asked from the back row of chairs.

Hawk set down a challenge coin on the table between the dead recruiter and the potential recruits. "Mendel II. Earth Alliance fleet nuked a civilian colony. One million, three hundred thousand dead. Never again." Hawk reached down to the deceased tango with half of his head evicted by the bullet wound, hauled him up, and slammed the body onto the table. Once it was in place, the challenge coin was set on top of the body.

"What about us?" a lady in the front row

"You, now, nothing. You serve Blue Cosmos, you die like Blue Cosmos. You serve Earth Alliance, you die like Earth Alliance. Mass murderers will die en masse. This is our sworn oath. Choose your allegiance carefully. We are through taking prisoners." The pistol came out again, this time aimed to his side at a Blue Cosmos regional officer who had emerged from the bathroom. Three shots in the chest, his body hit the floor half a second after the paper towel the BC officer had used to dry his hands.

"Holy shit," a formerly gung-ho teen said, after he came to the realization that this one guy had killed three Blue Cosmos operators with less effort than most people expended to unzip their pants.

"Have a good day," Hawk said after his cloak reactivated.

-x-

Meghan Garibaldi had approached the Taco Bell from the eastern side of the building — technically, the rear of the building — and set her shield down against the back wall of the building. Getting into or out of the doors in a fast food restaurant was terribly inconvenient for an Armored Infantryman / Armored Ghost when still wearing the shield, and usually resulted in costly structural damage. Less so when bereft of the defensive implement.

There was only one civilian car in the parking lot, and three employee cars in their slots, which meant little foot traffic in the building thus far. As such, Meghan had no problem getting in the doors and up to the front counter, even uncloaked. A family of four were among the tables in the dining area, but made no move when Meghan entered, they only stared at her.

"Good morn, you do accept silver coinage at this restaurant, correct?" Meghan asked of the cashier who was simply staring at her.

"Holy shit," the cashier said. "Um, you said silver coin?"

"I did, yes," Meghan prompted.

"Ray, yo Ray! Do we accept silver coins?" the cashier shouted toward the rear of the store.

"Yeah, we do, exchange rate for this week is 115 Earth-Dollars for a 1 ounce coin. Why?" The Manager asked after a moment.

"Because I have a Mendel Ghost out here asking about it."

"What the fuck?" the Manager peeked out of his office. "Holy shit! Um, yes, we'll take a coin. Bullion-grade?"

"Triple-nine silver, if that is what counts," Meghan ladder-walked a coin up her right fingers to where she was holding it up by thumb and index finger. "What say ye to feeding the rebel underground for a morning?"

"Fuck yes, can't stand those Blue Cosmos pricks. Ring 'em up, Danny, I'll do the grill." The Manager threw on an apron and gloves to prepare for it.

"Eight breakfast burritos, and can you fill this thing with orange juice?" Meghan set a two-gallon cold-storage bowser on the counter.

"Can do, that'll be eight of the 32-ounce Orange Juices, and eight breakfast burritos. Anything else?"

"Neg, that shall do," Meghan said.

"33.30 Earth-dollars is your total. 1 bullion coin, silver?"

"Here," Meghan flipped him the coin.

"81.70 Earth-dollars is your change, ma'am." The cashier dished out the requisite bills, which Meghan folded up and stuffed in one of her belt pouches. Local currency was a handy thing to have, in case she had to go to ground. The coinage went in the donation box for a local child welfare hospital. "Just a minute, ma'am."

"You in for breakfast, or business?" the Manager asked as he began wrapping up the first two burritos. "Or are you not allowed to tell?"

"Both breakfast and business. And you'll get a fireworks show here in about a minute," Meghan said, given it was now effectively too late for anyone to stop the action at the factory down the road.

"Lemme guess, the body armor factory?" the Manager asked.

"Not a hard guess to make, good sir. 45 seconds."

"Here's your orange juice," the cashier handed over the juice bowser to Meghan, who attached it to a hold lug on the front of her right leg, out of the line of draw of her pistol.

The doors swung open to Meghan's right, though the persons who entered did not approach immediately. After a couple seconds, Meghan looked to her right, and saw two Sheriff deputies standing just inside the doors. "Before you ask, I am a bit tired of the usual MRE breakfast meals."

"You're not here to do a shootout in a Taco Bell, right?" the deputy asked.

"Only if you want one," Meghan answered truthfully.

"Hell with that, I'm here for coffee," the senior Deputy answered.

"Here's your burritos, Star Commander," the manager passed her a bag.

"Much obliged, gentlemen," Meghan said to the staff. "If you will excuse me, Deputies," she said just before the sound of her cratering charge reached the fast-food restaurant.

"The hell was that?" the deputy asked, looking over his shoulder.

"I recommend you get your coffee now, gentlemen, you're in for a long day," Meghan explained as she passed the Deputies on her way out. Once she passed the second set of double doors, the Ghost reactivated her cloak and turned to reclaim her shield.

-x-

"Burritos, orange juice, and inferno fires. Winning morning, I daresay," Ghost Operator Thomas said from the parking lot of the hotel literally across the 61 highway from the factory they had just set ablaze.

The Ghost Cloak systems in use by the Ghosts were a field generator system. As such, a Ghost could open his or her helmet and eat with the cloak active and still be unseen. Which is exactly what the four Ghosts were doing, while watching the body armor factory burn in front of them.

"Plus three dead BC recruiters, which only adds to the mystique," Amina said between bites of her burrito.

"Love the smell of napalm in the morning," Hawk Longfeather said.

"It's that gasoline smell," Meghan said with a chuckle. "Finish up, we're out of here."

An hour later, a firefighter would notice some Taco Bell breakfast burrito wrappers in a public trashcan that he was dumping coffee cups into, but he would never put two and two together, even despite the tale from the sheriffs on the scene.

-x-x-x-

(9 April CE 73, 1400 Hours UTC)
(Ptolemaeus Base, Luna)

"This is it, this is it!" Cho said. "Three inch, schedule 40 cast-iron pipe. This is what we need to do the job."

"Is that the same as what we use on the Mjolnr?" Elisa asked after a moment of eying the rack of pipes in question.

"Exactly the same. I had a mechanic look it up," Cho semi-lied. She did have it looked up, but it was done by the artificial intelligence entity, who was necessarily in on this project.

"Okay, okay, okay, before we go any further, are you sure the brass isn't going to throw a shit-fit about this?" Victoria asked.

"Hey, it's the unstated rule of the Jokers Wild: anywhere we are, there shall be a casino. And for a crater base that measures several hundred kilometers across, there must be a casino," Cho declared with the finality of a death sentence. "Now, if you want to duck out, feel free. We'll just omit your names from the eventual bronze placard in the new facility."

"Hell with that, Wonder Cho," Elisa responded immediately. "How are we going to do this?"

"We have a structural plan for this already." Cho set down a portable projector on the ground, which immediately spawned an image of the plan on the wall next to the pipe rack. "Bay 4-East is going to be the contractor ingress point for supply drops. We are going to put a custom-built hose fitting in the wall in 4-East, so a tanker ship can simply ruck up to the dock, connect, and pump in up to 25,000 gallons of the stuff at a time."

"Holy shit, 25 kilo gallons? That's a fucking lot of it," Point Officer Helga said with a smile.

"This is a fucking lot of base to cover, though, so props for buying in bulk," Diane said.

"The big thing is we have a storage tank, here," and Cho pointed it out on the map, "Which gravity feeds to the rest of the base through networks of supply pipes. And the largest supply pipe goes to the Casino, here in Cargo Hold 11-Delta-103. The network on the Mjolnr is three-inch Schedule 40, but coming from the loading point to the tank is going to be ten-inch Schedule 40 and the pipe going from liquid storage to the casino will be 5-inch schedule 40."

"Remember, when this base gets up to full staff, you're talking several million personnel," a voice separate from the six Marines pointed out.

"Galaxy Commander Michaels!" All six Marines bolted to attention when they realized who it was.

"What brings you here, sir?" Cho asked for the group.

"Adult supervision requirements," Carlos Michaels answered with a wry smile. "The AI pointed out you six were up to a construction project, so she called me in to do coordination of effort."

"How… much… effort, sir?" Elisa asked.

"Not much, you six, myself, and a Mobile Suit for the large equipment. For what we need to do to make this work, it won't take a huge amount of personnel. The MS is only somewhat involved — the holding tank is 9 tons empty, and we're going to put 85 tons of liquid storage into it, so some large operations are required. The rest we will do with large-bore drills and a shit-ton of pipe sealant."

"Okay, fair enough. But your cut of the tribute is the same as the rest of us," Elisa pointed out to the Galaxy Commander.

"Oh, I expected as much," Carlos said. "Take a drill, pass it around," he handed Cho a bag of large-bore drills with masonry bits installed and ready. "We may have to use cratering charges or autocannon fire for the initial wall breach here."

"That I expected," Diane pointed out as she hefted a 120mm short-charge autocannon. "Probably the best use of ordinance in this misbegotten base. Elisa, can you mark my target circle?"

"Here," Elisa shone the mini-projector on the wall where the coupling would go for the incoming transport bowser. The projector switched from system diagram to drill point reference, showing a half-meter circle on the wall where the hole needed to be punched.

"Going live," Diane said. She nested the frame of the autocannon base on her right shoulder, leaned into the gun, and fired a round of HEAP ammo into the wall. "Clean it," Diane said, given several chunks of concrete were simply hanging there.

Helga went in from the side and used her drill to scrape out the obviously loose chunks. "Do it again, gun-bunny." Diane raised and fired her cannon again, then Helga knocked the loosened debris aside. "Once more," a raise of the cannon and a third shot finished the job. "Okay, we're through."

"Helga, Diane, finish up clearing that hole. Elisa, Victoria, head across to the next wall and do the punch-through. By the time we get the feed pipe in place, the holding tank will already be in position."

"Aff, Galaxy Commander," Sniper Specialist Elisa replied immediately.

"Where do you want us, sir?" Cho Eglin asked her Galaxy Commander.

"Cho, Karen, head down to the bottom of 9-Foxtrot-33 and begin running the five-inch pipe from the storage tank to the casino."

"Roger that," Cho answered immediately.

"Think we're clear here, sir," Helga noted as she tested the width of the wall punch-through as sufficient for their purposes.

"Excellent. Set up for the next punch through and begin your fire missions," Michaels ordered. "I'll get the feed hose connector in place. Once you have the next punch done, we will work on fitting the pipes."

Carlos had the necessary fitting on hand already — it was the same fitting as a standard water feed hookup, but colored differently to distinguish it from water. The fitting was attached to a 1-meter-square plate that proclaimed its purpose clearly, further reducing chances of material cross-contamination. Carlos picked the fitting up, indexed the backend of the valve and quick-connect coupler into the hole in the wall, and pushed it all the way back until flush with the wall. "Helga, grab the masonry screwdriver out of the tool sack, will you?" Carlos said nothing of a level, given his armor could level objects by laser-line tracking. A few tweaks and it was done.

"Where first?" Helga requested.

"Lower right," Carlos ordered. She ran a 5cm titanium masonry screw into the wall in a predrilled hole in the coupler plate, which anchored it in place for all time to come. "Upper left." Helga did it again, and with two points of contact the assembly was not going anywhere. "Lower left, then upper right, then go clockwise around the center holes."

Six screws later, the coupler was fixed in place. Neither Marine nor Galaxy Commander of Marines had any inkling that the work they did today would last literally for the life of the base, over 70,000 years. It would be the only fixture and coupler not replaced by changing standards or damaged by an industrial accident throughout the Ptolemaeus facility across that time frame.

Carlos Michaels took the time to screw to the wall the placard denoting the purpose of this fixture. "Done here."

"It is beautiful," Diane said, tapping on the placard that stated 'BEER' in large, black font.

"This is only part of the job, people," GC Michaels pointed out. "If we want the beer pipes running before we take official residency here, we have work to do. Get your tools and get a move on!"

-x-x-x-

(9 April CE 73, 1530 Hours UTC)
(Open Space between Luna and EM1 Lagrange Point (AKA Pirate Point Terra-1))

"The more I think about it, the more I like the thought, Captain. The Minerva is attached to our formation, and the Century Commander has gone out of his way to train the ZAFT whelps before this war started, but they really haven't had their teeth cut yet. This will be a prime chance for the little red ship to earn its paygrade, maybe even earn its veterancy."

"Hard thought to argue with, sir," Commander Grey acknowledged the validity of Ensign Smith's declaration.

"And I wish them luck," Captain Jamestown said with a small hint of dissatisfaction. "They are going up against the Ophanim, an Archangel-class, with full crew, full mobile compliment, and a Captain that may possibly be one of the best warship captains to survive the First PLANTs Wars, as well as the rather infamous Admiral Sutherland standing over her shoulder. I hope Captain Gladys has her ducks in a row and her shit in gear, because Rear Admiral Badgiruel will not give her the luxury of a mistake," Captain Jamestown acknowledged the breadth of the challenge ahead.

"And what of Century Commander Lightbringer?" Sensor Operator Nikko asked.

"The old man will skew the odds back in the Minerva's favor, but keep in mind that one man, one machine, does not win a war except in some armchair general's midnight wet dream," Carlie Gray made clear note thereof. "If they want victory, the little red ship will have to work long and hard for it. That is technically a full flotilla they are pursuing."

Flay diddled with her sensor systems for a moment, given that she was starting to see a magnetic disturbance in the area of the tango ships. After a few different tries at eliminating the signal, she gave up and tried classifying it, given it might be a new Earth Alliance device.

"Flotilla or not, there is nowhere to run and less places to hide any more," Sensor Operator Tiara Graley pointed out. "We will find them, we will kill them."

After the results of Flay's diddling with the classification system came back, she realized that the game was about to change — and a new game was about to land right on top of Rear Admiral Badgiruel, some thousands of kilometers ahead of the Dominion. "We may not have to kill them," Flay said.

"Why wouldn't we?" Captain Jamestown asked.

"A superdreadnought is about to jump out in the L1 Lagrange Point. If Natarle doesn't see it coming, the incoming ship will land right on top of her in a matter of minutes."

"Oh," Captain Jamestown said in mild shock, then began cackling with a mad laughter nobody else on the bridge could ever remember hearing from him. Thirty seconds of such laughter later: "This is rich beyond compare! The best of the best of the Earth Alliance Navy is about to become shark-bait to a mystery guest! Irony abounds in warfare, and now the Earth Alliance is about to get a taste of it."

"Sir, that may not be one of our ships," Commander Grey pointed out fairly.

"Flay, what is the expected mass of the contact?" Captain Jamestown asked.

"13.5 million tons or near enough, given the scaling of the magnetic signature," Flay Allster read off her sensor panel.

"There are only two classes of ships that can get up above 12 megatons jump signature. A Phalanx fully loaded with all 80 dock collars maxed out is 13.8 megatons. A Nirvana-class Ultradreadnought can do up to 15 megatons jump signature with full collars. If this is a Nirvana, she's running barely past half loaded, which is bad policy for such a big ship. What is more likely is you're seeing a Phalanx-class ship with full collars but which has been in flight for six or seven months, burned off some of her consumables, which brought her down 300 grand or so."

"That… that makes the best sense," Carlie said with a smile.

"Captain, plasma flares in the target area," Petty Officer Atlas Lamongue pointed to the main viewscreen, which had briefly lit up.

" 'The wheel in the sky keeps on turning, I don't know where I'll be tomorrow' " Captain Jamestown quoted an ancient Terran song, intending multiple points with two lines of lyric.

"Plasma flares maxing out, emergence imminent sir!" Commander Grey said.

The final burst of plasma preceded the arrival of the unidentified ship on visual. With the magnification turned all the way to maximum, it was just barely possible for the Dominion to visually identify the hull markings. "Hull 2291! It's one of ours! And an old sucker, to boot!"

"The Golden Phoenix," Captain Jamestown said with clear relish to voice. "I know this ship well. Both Calamira and myself were shitcanned from it to the Mjolnr some years ago."

"Who's the boss?" PO Atlas requested after a few moments of staring at the main monitor.

"Star Admiral Minako Sahalin. All the skills and deviousness of SA Centara, completely untouchable by the most beloved Admiralty Review."

-x-

"Jump engine secured, no structural damage. We're completely green across the board, Star Admiral," Chief Maintenance Controller Kerry Marks reported after the ship stopped creaking and settling from the conflicting forces of jumping through hyperspace and between dimensions.

"Excellent," Star Admiral Sahalin said. "Last jump. All is well. Now, why is there so much debris in the area?" She pointed to the front window of the bridge, where a goodly ration of scrap metal was in evidence.

"Multiple ships in the vicinity, Star Admiral. IFF signatures not recognized. One Mobile Armor in area, friendly, one ship in area being vouched for by friendly IFF, distance to reported units is 3800 kilometers," the Flight Boss reported.

"We could always ask the pilot of that Mobile Armor, he's busy laughing his arse off on open channels, Star Admiral Sahalin."

"I know that laugh," one of the senior operators on the bridge command deck said after listening to it for a few moments. "I've got this," he answered after he picked up a growler microphone and set the growler in question to the same frequency group as used by the Mobile Armor. "Good to see you still have a sense of humor, Century Commander Lightbringer," the guy said in a sardonic voice.

"Simply enjoying my job, Division Commander Agrippa," Gerald Lightbringer answered heartily.

"Division Commander Agrippa? Here?" A separate voice asked over the radio band, probably inadvertently. "Oh shit, they're not just playing for keeps, they're playing for prestige kills here," the undeclared guy noted. "He's some seriously bad news."

Lightbringer continued on. "I would like to welcome you to Cosmic Era Terra, where nobody is right because everyone can't stop fucking with each other, and I would like to award the Golden Phoenix three points for telefragging part of a fleet of tangos. Now, I can sense two other notable kindred souls on the bridge, but can't identify. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

The most senior Magi officer on the bridge took up the growler microphone when offered by DC Agrippa. "Your bosses' bosses' boss," she answered elliptically. "Been a while, Lightbringer. I hope you have been keeping it on the level?"

Gerald barked a short fit of laughter at the inside joke. "Aff, milady Atrebas, but only for certain definitions of the word 'level'," the Century Commander answered heartily.

"Only one lady in the Empire with the last name Atrebas, and that is Empress Rini Atrebas," the mystery voice said, again likely not for general consumption on an open radio band.

"And who's our next contestant?" Gerald requested.

The highest-ranked person on the ship (though not Magi) received the growler microphone last. "Be wary, Gerald, you know how my husband deals with certain illusions of impropriety."

"Whoa, shit," the mystery voice declared. The Commo panel highlighted it as the largest Monitor in the nearby fleet, all of which had targeted the Golden Phoenix but nobody had fired yet. "If I'm remembering that voice right, that would be Master Executor Hotaru Tomoe, the Princess of Silence."

"That doesn't sound good," A separate and much older guy declared.

"It's not," the first mystery voice confirmed. "Executors are basically all of the old tales of mysics, Gods and wizards, wrapped up in one package and amplified into the gigatons range, then given the order to defend life and honor throughout the Star Empires. Master Executors are the best of the best; they get sent on all the really tough campaigns to make sure the job is done right the first time. With Master Executor Tomoe here, the question is not 'will I lose' but instead is 'when shall I lose, and how thoroughly', because when the Firefly of Silence is in a campaign, the OpFor has already lost and the only thing that needs to be answered is how she does it." Hotaru made sure her thumb was off the microphone switch before she suffered a giggling fit about the description.

"That's a bit hard to believe, one lady can change the whole war instantly?" a young lady asked on the mystery ship.

"You're not understanding the major detail here, which is perfectly reasonable. Executor Tomoe is one of a trinity of Star League-affiliated persons who have the ability to read the past, the present, and the future just by 'understanding' the history involved. Her sword, Ragnarok, reads and writes history as it deems necessary. And there is absolutely nothing you or I can do to escape that reality." the main guy on the mystery ship covered the necessary explanation.

Hotaru decided now was a good time to check on the speakers involved. One Magi bondsman, two Admirals on the bridge of the Ophanim, and some odds and ends personnel on the ship. "Thank you for the introduction, Bondsman," Master Executor Tomoe said after a short delay, which made it obvious someone was listening to the radio broadcast. "For the record, you may want to make sure your radios are not set on GUARD broadcast when you are explaining to your allies what is about to go wrong."

"Oops, my bad," A heretofore unheard voice commented in embarrassment.

"The other two who fall under the Bondsman's listing of persons who can understand the past and the future, both are ironically named Erich Hess, a bloodheritage of German Mercenaries. One is my husband and a Final Executor, higher rated than I am, and contributed a rifle to this campaign. The other Hess is better known as Sigma One, the leader of an interdimensional mercenary force; he contributed several companies of expatriate mercs who volunteered for this job."

"And I contribute fifty-five Galaxies to the war effort, or two Legion formations by the numbers," Empress Atrebas said into the microphone held up by Hotaru in her general direction. "So, we've started our part of the campaign by way of a telefrag. Rear Admiral Badgiruel, how do you want this to end for what remains of your fleet?"

"Standby one," Natarle answered before the radio broadcast dropped out audibly.

"This is where our foe grows a brain," Hotaru said. "And cleanses their bridge of a Blue Cosmos operator."

Roughly thirty seconds after Hotaru said so, Rini and Stan could sense the death of the BC operator on the rival bridge. "Game over for that one," the Division Commander of Commandos said with a smile.

"They will be surrendering here in a moment. Be ready for it, Star Admiral," Empress Atrebas pointed out.

-x-x-x-

(9 April CE 73, 2330 Hours UTC)
(Open Space between Luna and EM1 Lagrange Point (AKA Pirate Point Terra-1))

"Back to a ship with gravity," Flay said with some relief as she realized she was not floating as she expected to be.

"We might want to be careful, we could get lost here easily," Nikko pointed out. "All the ships will be disembarked into the Golden Phoenix while in transit."

"That's going to be a lot of troops," Oruga pointed out. "Wonder what they have available for restaurants on this ride? The Sniper Bar and Grill was always a great place to chow down."

"I've got this," Clotho said. He moved toward a ship crewmember who was directing traffic coming out of the docked ships. "Ensign Janse, do you have a guide for restaurants on this ship?"

"Aye, pilot, have a tablet?" the Ensign asked.

"Yeah," Clotho pulled his PDA out of its holster.

"Here," and she flicked from her larger note-puter toward his PDA. "You've got a whole map of the ship's amenities. Forward restaurant is The Kremlin, Russian specialty."

"Russian? That's good eats," Nikko said. "Thanks, Ensign," the group moved on toward the central corridor, then turned in toward the bridge. "We're in for a hike, though. We're over a kilometer away from it."

"It will be a good march," Flay admitted. "I need the leg stretch after the shooting this morning."

On the march toward the front of the ship, Flay was quick to realize that the locally-produced charcoal gray Digital Camo used by the Protectorate forces clashed quite a bit with the more plain-color naval operators on the ship. The traditional Magi naval uniform was a solid color representative of the ship's namesake, which in this case was a light yellow. The digital camo went a ways to break up the form of those who were being looked at, but it had limitations depending on colors and environment. Still, heads turned at the six pilots and four sensor operators, but nothing untoward was said.

As Flay marched forward, she could catch hints of conversation around her. There was some surprise at the group of young operations personnel moving around, but nothing untoward. Others had taken a recognition to the two groups of pilots, and came to the conclusion that they had to be some manner of special project pilots, likely directly under the Century Commander. The ice-breaker for Flay, though, was a mechanic that watched the group pass, then had one thing to say about it.

"This past is our future, and the future operates on different rules," the Elven mechanic noted sardonically.

Flay stopped immediately and whirled around on the Mechanic. "Uhm, Specialist, can you explain that? What you just said?"

The Elven mechanic blinked at Flay, a bit shocked to receive such a question. "You don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Sensor Operator Tiara Graley asked.

"Well, you will know soon enough, so might as well be forward about it. The Mjolnr, when it jumped bad, jumped backward some 32,000 years into the past. This is the deep past, before even the founding of the Star Empires. This history is now our future, for we are here to stay, and we are here to win the future."

Sensor Operator Melody gasped, both hands over her mouth at such a declaration. "What?" Auel asked her after a few moments of everyone staring at her.

" 'Win the future' is an old Magi oath, meaning to win the war Ragnarok," Melody said between her hands, slightly muffling it but otherwise audible.

"You learn your history well, young one," an older guy said as he approached the group. Flay couldn't tell much about him, other than he wore the dark blue uniform of the Commandos and he carried two combat knives in addition to a leg-holstered pistol. "If you are departed for the restaurant as you said in the landing bay, you go my way. Come, I will pick up where the mechanic halted. As you were, Specialist."

"Aye, sir," the Elven Mechanic braced to attention, then returned to the access panel within which he was pulling new cable harness through.

"First, I say to thee, abandon conventional wisdom on this matter. Despite the cheerful oath of some, there will be no true 'winning' of Ragnarok. We aim to survive it, we aim to make sure it never repeats, and we aim to make sure we have plenty of company in Hell when we get there. Those three goals are more than enough for our purposes. You follow?" the Commando asked.

"Hai, sir!" Oruga responded immediately.

"If we can get to that milestone, we have the rest. The matter, as it happens, is a game of numbers. Everything we do must be predicated on building and expanding, and maintaining that expansion, or we come up short in the final battle and it is game over. Still follow?"

"That's cold, sir," Sensor Operator Tiara Graley said.

"That is the reality of the matter. Numbers or give up and suffer the annihilation at the end of days, make your choice," he said. After thirty seconds, no answer was to be hand. "I suspected you would make the right choice amongst those two."

"All things being equal, I wouldn't mind taking a crack at the big baddies towards the end of the game," Clotho said with some relish.

"Those amongst the Mjolnr who fought the Mobile Doll Siege were the first and shall be the last to see it, with one exception who shall return to the original history. For the remainder, this is where the victory shall be written," the Commando stopped at the door to The Kremlin. "Remember, there is no expectation of survival in Ragnarok. You go to the future, you die, you remain here, you live long and prosper. This is the Tao of the Mjolnr's being. Decide carefully."

"Live long and prosper, for certain," Shani said.

"Do not think of doing battle in Ragnarok, for all that shall happen is death. Think of the future you want to build, and the remainder shall become reality." The Commando swiped his codex necklace over the control panel, tapped a number on the keypad, and waited. After ten seconds, the door opened and a hostess was standing at the ready. "Hostess, please see these nine personnel to the large table, and set two more places. Operator, please remain," the Commando singled out Flay Allster.

"Yes, sir," she answered as the hostess saw the remainder of the Dominion operators to their table. "Is something amiss, sir?"

"Not really wrong, but an interesting problem passed along to me by your commanding officer, Lightbringer. Gerald has already explained to me the circumstance under which you operate, and suggested a command-level review of ownership of Allster Enterprises would be necessary after the shooting is done. I have agreed, but given what I am sensing of you, I am unsure if you want to try or not to wrest ownership from your remaining family."

"Of course I do!" Flay said most impolitically. "I had the whole works put in trust to be managed while I was out, erm, trying to sabotage Mendel, at least until I lost heart and grew wisdom on this matter."

The Commando simply laughed at her aspersion on the matter. "That is a very unusual way to look at a change of heart."

"I think of it more as learning the cold reality of the matter. What I was in those days was not what any sensible human should ever be." Allster hesitated for a moment. "Wait — you just said you agree to review the ownership, sir?"

"Aff, I did," the Commando answered.

"You're…" Standing close to the Commando, and now alerted to the possible rank difference between a Century Commander and the man standing before her, Flay had a better idea what his collar tabs meant. "The Division Commander of Commandos?"

"I was beginning to wonder if any of you would come to that conclusion," Stanythe Agrippa said. "That said, if it took that much of a reference to get the hint across, then I am doing my job properly. Still, say nothing of it, I would like to see if anyone else in your party catches it. And do not fret over your businesses; if they have tried to vacate the trust, when we win they will be vacated from the planet and you will be left in command."

-x-x-x-

(13 April CE 73, 0330 Hours Lima (UTC-6) time)
(Ghost Base Hannibal, Missouri, old United States territory, Atlantic Federation)

"We're clear," Xion said. "Pop the rock."

"Got it," Terra issued a command by laser communication to a special receptor built into a tree several meters away from the rock in question. The receptor was a whopping 1 millimeter across, made of non-reflective material, with all wiring concealed inside the trunk of the tree and underground to prevent easy access or identification by a layman. The tree had also been chosen to minimize the likelihood of it being chopped for firewood in the area, given it was a small thorn apple tree and not something more substantial.

Once signaled, the large rock the trio was standing next to gave an audible click, then the sound of myomer straining caused the rock (several tons of rock) to lift up and to the side. Below the several-meter-wide boulder was a dank staircase that led down to an intermediate landing and a turn in a different direction with more stairs past it.

"You first, Kira. Just head down and hold at the door, we'll be there shortly."

Once inside, Kira began the trek down the stairs slowly — there was no light in the area, deliberately, as a measure of stealth to help prevent the entrance being seen at distance. After he stopped on the second landing below the entrance, the first Ghost entered, followed closely by the second ghost and the sound of myomer closing the rock cover back behind them.

Another nine stair landings below the ground brought them down below a level of ground Kira ever expected to be in short of the Archangel's Hangar. At the bottom of the stairs was a five-meter corridor that terminated in a large blast door. "This is some serious security. Are you sure you're allowed to let me see this?"

"After this war is over, this Ghost Chain is going to be revealed. Ghost Base Hannibal is simply the last stop of a dozen bases. Now, if you say anything before the end of the war, that will be another story."

Kira wisely said nothing, just stepped aside for Xion to access and open the door. Again, myomer actuators did the work of opening the door, though the far side of the blast door was not what he expected.

"This is different," Kira said after he paced into the room behind Terra. He was expecting something approaching the look of a military base, or possibly even Morgenroete, most certainly not something that looked like a hotel lounge.

"This is home away from home. We build the whole facility by nanomachines, so we're allowed to take liberties with the decoration and furnishing as we see fit," Xion said as she moved toward one of the armor cubicles on the wall. There were twenty cubicles across two walls in the entry room, the major area of the open space was a couple of couches, a steel bench (presumably for the armored Ghosts to use), and a third wall of nothing but rifle and pistol racks with ammunition and various explosive devices.

"Welcome back," a guy in the next room said. He was wearing the typical Mendel digital camo gray uniform, though the presence of throwing knives in hand had Kira's attention until he saw the target board on the wall in the next room. "Welcome to Ghost Base Hannibal, Ensign Yamato." The trooper switched both knives to his left hand, then presented his right for a shake. "Ghost Officer Thomas. Pleasure to meet you."

"Thanks," Kira said partially automatically. "Why this? Why so much?"

"Magi never forget allies," the other guy in the training / exercise room said. Kira took a hard look at the guy in question, and decided for a Native American-descent person, he looked not much at all like what he thought an 'Indian' would like. Other than the dark complexion and very unique way of speaking (at least amongst the Magi), he would have been indistinguishable from the other residents of Mendel.

"And, it would not serve anyone well to go about putting a man inside the abduction detail for Lacus Clyne, but not rescue you," Terra pointed out from her armor cubicle.

"Good word, now that the air filtration system is disabled in my armor, I can tell I need a good long shower," Xion said to nobody in particular.

"Wait, you already have a Ghost out there with Lacus?" Kira asked.

"Not just a Ghost, Benjamin Jones, one of the Instructors of Ghosts," Thomas said as he ushered Kira past the training room toward the lounge. "Guy's a legend in the Ghost circles. He's gotten in and out of more nasty situations than most professional soldiers will ever see in their careers. If anyone can get the starlet out of Dodge, Old Ben is it."

"Can I help?" Kira asked, desperately wanting to get Lacus out of harm's way.

"Neg, if we move to assist, we blow Ben's cover and probably Lacus' remaining time on Earth," Thomas said as he guided Kira to a table in the lounge. "For now, everything is advancing apace; Ben's orders are to wait until the ground invasion begins to extract Lacus. If he moves sooner, he runs the risk of drawing undue attention to himself."

"Attention is bad for a Ghost," a new lady said as she approached the couch in the room, which faced a rather large viewscreen system. The surprising thing to Kira was her complete lack of decorum in choice of clothes. She was wearing a bathrobe and slippers, and Kira suspected nothing else. "Attention is worse for someone that a Ghost is trying to rescue."

"Okay, that makes sense. So we're condemned to wait?" Kira asked.

"No, we're condemned to listen," the lady in the bathrobe said. "We wait for the noise to begin for real before we make more moves."

"You may want to get cleaned up and grab a bunk, Ensign," Thomas said. "Like the Star Commander said, we don't make any more moves until the Earth Alliance has a hard-on pointed in a different direction. The only way that is going to happen is a ground invasion. After that, we'll work on reuniting the pilot with his princess," the Ghost Officer said with a smile before he threw a knife at the target board he was using on a side wall of the lounge area.

-x-x-x-

(15 April CE 73, 0030 Hours)
(On Patrol Route 3-Delta, Mendel SDIZ)

"So, what are we thinking here? One or two incoming?" Clotho asked while he looked out the pilot's lounge window into the hangar area.

"Three," Flay said immediately. She had heard as much from the radio operator before she was declared off-duty and decided to come inspect the newest additions to the ship.

"Uh, come again? We only have two open cubicles for machines," Auel half-wailed.

"My machine shall be put on rotation into the hold open area," Legion Commander Lightbringer put the space question to rest. "If my unit is damaged, it can rotate out with someone else for repairs."

"Hard to believe," Shani said, looking out the window with Clotho. "A week ago, we were the underdogs, less than a full Legion of forces against the entire Earth Alliance. Today, we outnumber them 3 to 1 in Mobile Forces and have near-absolute control of space."

"They'll outnumber us in infantry, but not for long. If they're mustering forces, we can hit them with suborbital strikes," Sting pointed out.

"100,000 armored infantry are worth more than a million unarmored Infantry. Once we put five galaxies of Armored Infantry on the ground, the Earth Alliance will be hard-pressed to dislodge us without nuclear arms," Gerald declared with finality.

"Guys, new machine ahoy!" Clotho waved at the window.

"First one… Gundam Gerbera," Gundam Pilot Argus Deville typed it as the machine approached the landing point. "Gerbera is pretty good, it'll match any of the Gundam Project machines, and runs a good chance of winning if the pilot is competent. Don't recognize the rifle, though."

"I'll explain after the machines have landed," Gerald said.

"Second machine, I know that one," Shani chuckled. "Jagd Doga. Newtype-use quasi-Gundam with six funnels, a badass beam gatling gun, and another one of those crazy rifles. What are those, sir?"

All eyes were on Gerald, since they weren't standard hardware and he was the only one who claimed knowledge. "The two machines are from Anaheim Special Operations Group. They're mercenary subcontractors, part of the Sigma Network. The rifle they carry was invented by a master engineer from Sigma, Jeff Evans was his name, and he took an old Star League prototype Rail Gun and made it work properly. Quarter-ton slug, maximum effective range 55 kilometers. Sigma only produces about 30 a year, mostly for their own forces or affiliates. Production name is Vector RSR, or Rail Sniper Rifle. Get hit by that, and the kinetic impact will damage even the Second-Stage gundams internally."

"Holy shit, that's a rifle," Oruga said. "Where do I get one?"

"Like I said, they're rare, limited-production pieces. One of those rifles is worth 85 million on the black market, but Sigma goes out of their way to make sure they are not circulating," Gerald repeated himself somewhat. "Hell, the Dark Moon captured one and tried setting up production. Sigma launched a full-on planetary invasion on the world where the factory was to prevent the production beginning. That got messy quickly, especially since the Dark Moon was ordered not to begin production by an Executor."

Oruga heard something by way of the walls rattling, so he looked out the window and toward the hangar. "Whoa, what's this beautiful piece of hardware?"

"It's a derivative of the Heavyarms, I can tell you that," Argus pointed out the obvious. "Looks like a customization job to up the arsenal by a big factor."

Gerald had vacated his parking spot next to Argus' Heavyarms earlier in the day, so the new machine coming in parked right next to it. The dark blue base color designated her as Commando, and the violet trim was probably personal preference. Comparative to the default color schema that Argus used (red base color, orange trim), there was a world of visual impact difference.

The arsenal was the major change, though. More missile tubes on the hip plates, what looked like short-barrel beam cannons on the outboard skirt armor, two large rotary cannons with drum feeds on the backpack to be fired over the shoulders, and the most startling modification was the inclusion of 16 funnels in two racks coming off the arse of the machine. Unlike Argus, who carried the two paired gatling cannons as hand weapons, this machine had a paired gatling for the left hand with a significant shield, and a beam machinegun for the right hand.

"Requesting dibs on the Heavyarms, sir," Flay said after a moment.

"Hold that thought, Operator," the Legion Commander said with a smile. "We're about to do a major policy change on the bridge. You may get that request by default."

After staring at the Gundam for several minutes, Alicia gasped. "Sir! I know that Gundam! I know the pilot!"

"And?" Gerald asked.

"Ami Hidaka. She's a Commando, specializes in Heavy and Assault-weight Gundams with a lot of firepower. She'll be a wonderful addition to the unit."

"I sense something, something, erm, personal, in your appraisal," Gerald said mischievously.

"Uh, decline to comment, Legion Commander," Alicia answered quickly. "She can bunk in with me."

"And Flay?" Gerald asked.

"No, I mean Ami can bunk in with me. Flay won't be disturbed in this," Alicia promised them.

"No, I'll just be disturbed by what happens on the far side of the room," Flay said. "Officially, sir, I'll make it work. We're already ahead of personnel requirements, double-bunking isn't the worst thing that could happen."

"Okay, your call," Gerald admitted. "Looks like we're ready to make this happen. Except for one more," and Gerald pointed to the right side catapult.

"Is that the Strike Gundam?" Oruga asked. "Who for?"

The Legion Commander folded his arms across his chest, though he was smiling about it. "It's a spare for now, but I think I might know someone who can pilot it."

---

Author's Chapter Afterword:

And this is where the game chances, at least on the DFA side. Hard to believe it has been a year since my last chapter in this story, but wow, has it been a helluva year!

Okay, first off, as much as I hate to admit it, I recycled parts of the text from one scene from JW2-09. As these things happen, it is simply that one scene coincides with multiple ways of looking at it. It is a bit of a momentous happening, to go from the underdog fighting a savage war to suddenly be the force to defeat. Of course, the points of view in the matter are changed around, even if the dialog is the same. You get a little bit of a look at the matter from the other perspectives, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

The recycle job, though, is small potatoes. The big noisemaker in this chapter is the look at the opposite side of taking Ptolemaeus. While the major forces came in from the East, with harasser forces to the north and south, the Dominion and Thrones played a critical role to the southeast by drawing forces in that direction and destroying them. With the loss of those forces, and with the surrender of Arzachel, The Earth Alliance has lost a goodly portion of their mobile forces as well as some of their research and development.

The other major noisemaker of this chapter is the ghost episode. The assault on the body armor factory is really three incidents that tell three different tales to the heart of the Birth Alliance. First, the actual strike on the factory is very telling that the Ghost teams can reach anywhere in the Earth alliance that they intend to strike, and there is little to nothing that can be done to stop them. Second, the one-man assault on the Blue Cosmos recruiting station literally saw the starch right out of the entire Blue Cosmos recruiting effort, and the prophetic words of Hawk Longfeather creates a major note of discord in people that would otherwise have joined the effort. Third, the purchase of the breakfast burritos and orange juice at a fast food restaurant in an otherwise very nonchalant fashion by one of the ghosts sends a dual message: one, the ghosts are not afraid to publicly support businesses, and to, the ghosts consider local law enforcement less than a threat in these circumstances. A couple more incidents of this caliber, and the ghosts themselves will become more of a fear factor than the regular troops.

In all reality, this chapter is mostly a bridge between the action of the prior chapter and some pretty momentous events to come in the next chapter. For certain, I have every intention of resolving the situations with Kira Yamato and Lacus Clyne as of the end the next chapter, though exactly how I intend to do that is yet to be determined. Shall we say, there are a lot of variables up in the air, and the exact methods by which I can resolve the situations will probably lead to quite a bit of bloodshed in scenarios to come. That said, I have every intention of giving everybody's favorite pilot and singer a very fair shake; contrary to appearance in prior stories, I don't actually hate Kira Yamato. Quite the opposite, I think he has a rather interesting character. I also think that he swims ass deep in his own naïveté, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Every story has to have its slightly clueless hero.

The other thing I intend to resolve in the next chapter, or least begin the resolution on, is the clearing and rescuing of the Extended facilities. The planning phase for those operations began last chapter, with the Sleepers and the Druggies getting together and figuring out where they are known Extended facilities are to capture and clear. As these things happen, each facility is considered an island compared to the others, so what facilities they know of it does not cover the entire network. As the individual facilities are cleared, and as the Strategic Psionics go through and interrogate critical Earth alliance or blue Cosmos personnel, they will discover the locations of the other facilities and fragmentary operations will be laid in to clear them. Suffice it to say, the six known facilities is not the entire network. There will be more, and the things they will find it the other facilities will be pretty nasty.

I believe that is it for my notes for this chapter. NEXT UP: ghosts on the move, warships in the air, the invasion begins, and a certain logos commanding officer has a very, very bad day.

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Review Replies: 4 reviews across the last chapter. THANK YOU!

Fire Miner: No, not an Animesuki user.

Diesel Subs (SSKs, by designation) are pretty much it after the N-Jammers were put in place. As these things happen, though, not impossible to do given the limited availability of strategic fuels.

Akalon: Hope your computer woes have improved since last year. I have not signed up for MWO since I read that it falls into a lot of the F2P / P2W models and some are becoming disenfranchised by that conduct. May yet try it out, if I can get off my SC2 addiction :)

Flawless Cowboy 2552: Oh, don't worry, I'm already working on that. IF I CAN EVER GET INFERNO IN CHICAGO POSTED, I will have a psych warfare / propaganda warfare campaign worth talking about. (See note at beginning).

Holy Dragoon: Yep, that was a watershed moment for Flay, but the next chapter is going to have a better moment for her :)

THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! I'll keep it going until I run out of material to write on.

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The Gripe Sheet:

No complaints last chapter. As always, my tireless Beta readers Necroblade, Sieben Nightwing, and Takeshi Yamato are on the job :)

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Footnotes:

(1): Planet Designations that include the N- or NV- prefix before the number indicate Negaverse dimensions. Magi planet designations do not have a prefix when being discussed by Magi, but the other Star Empires use M- or MM- as their designation for Magi worlds.

(1A): Planet Designations with the tail -PDx (x being a number from 0 to theoretical infinite) reference a planet that has had Pocket Dimensions anchored around geographical locations on the planet. PD0 as a designation refers to the common world, PD1, PD2, and onward reference the actual pocket dimension in question, which cannot be accessed by Jumpship but can be accessed by Mages or through the ground transport link to those pocket dimensions. Technically, the Magi homeworld Terra Two would be designated by Jumpships as Terra MM0-PD0, due to the fact that it is the reference planet for sixteen full-scale pocket dimensions (PD1, PD2, … PD16) that are also fully inhabited. (Note that this series of pocket dimensions means that the effective population of Terra Two as of the beginning of the Jokers Wild series is 194 billion persons, including all sixteen pocket dimensions, each of which is its own self-contained world.)

(2): Initial Point, a designation of location whereby a unit would begin the necessary preparation steps for an action to be executed. In most cases, IP refers to the point on an aircraft's course where the pilot begins tracking ground targets for attack and preparing bombloads. In this case, it is referring to the point where the Dominion will begin its descent to Luna.

(3): Minovsky Particle Interference Wave Searcher, the signature sensor system of the RX-78 GP00 'Blossom' Gundam that gives it massive range and limited ability to see through or around obstacles at closer ranges. This system is commonly used with the Blossom's Beam Sniper Rifle to make a superior spaceborne sniper platform.

(4): Song is Sink The Bismarck by Johnny Horton. Tells a quick-and-dirty rehash of the Nazi Dreadnought Bismarck's first and last cruise.