The Sum of Our Choices Chapter 14: The Capriciousness of Circumstance, a code geass fanfic

Chapter 14 : The Capriciousness of Circumstance

About sacrifice and the offering of sacrifices, sacrificial animals think quite differently from those who look on: but they have never been allowed to have their say.

Friedrich Neitzsche

Then

Karlsruhe, German Confederation, EU, 3rd July 2018 ATB, 10:16 AM

The train was an unusual sight.

It was sleek and black, like some mechanical serpent. The locomotives at each end were heavy-set, angry-looking things, covered in heavy armour plates. The five carriages were smooth and featureless, the windows covered by fine grilles. It roared and rumbled, the sound of its horn cutting through the countryside as it flashed past.

Nothing barred its path. The order had gone out, and all trains had been put on hold, and all most of their would-be passengers could do was stand on the platforms and grumble while they waited for news.

In one or two cases, they caught a glimpse of the train as it raced past, whether creeping surreptitiously along a passing-loop or rumbling through the station itself. They could only stare in surprise, wondering what on earth it could be. Many of them had a vague idea, and as such, an answer as to why they had been so inconvenienced. One or two of them may have known for absolute certain, though they were bound not to tell.

Phones were pulled out. Fingers flashed over laptop keyboards. The story of the black trains spread all over the still-free nations of the EU, though it would be some time before the story could be captured, marshalled, and distributed to the bulk of the populace.

By then, the trains would have served their purpose.

This particular train continued along the line until it was some distance south of Karlsruhe, whereupon it switched off the main line onto a freight line. It slowed, rumbling along for a few kilometres until it reached the designated point. It halted on a long, straight stretch of line, the land clear and flat all around.

For a time the train was still, as if waiting for something.

With a whine and much clunking, the roof of the middle carriage split open along the middle, sliding down behind the walls. Hatches opened in the roofs of the first and last carriages. From each rose a square turret, split open in the middle to reveal a rotary chaingun, clustered barrels gleaming in the sun. From the middle carriage rose something else. A cylinder, so long and wide that it barely fitted in the carriage, rising up on one end.

Finally it stopped, standing straight up, like some strange monument.

Inside the second carriage, men in green Bundeswehr uniforms sat at control stations, screens and lights flashing in the gloom. Only their officer stood, checking his watch every so often. It was upon him that the responsibility would fall, even though he had his orders in advance.

If in doubt, proceed.

The satellite uplink screen showed the target. An airbase, believed to be housing around one hundred Britannian combat aircraft. With a click of buttons, the coordinates were transferred into the system, imprinted indelibly upon the electronic mind that lurked within the massive cylinder. Even if it received no other orders, even if all contact was lost, it would go where it was sent.

All was ready.

The babble of voices fell silent. The soldiers turned their eyes to their officer, waiting for him to give the order. The officer only checked his watch.

Those men would not be known. They would not merit any particular mention in the roll-call of history, populated by names like Suzaku Kururugi, or Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, or Gilbert G. P. Guilford, or Magnus Constantian. The job they did was the opposite of heroism, anathema to glory, an affront to chivalry. There would be little recognition for them, and no great honour.

They did not care.

The officer glanced at his watch again, then crossed to the main control panel. The men returned their attention to their stations, making doubly, triply, quadruply sure that all was in readiness. The officer checked his watch one last time, flipping up the cover on a certain button that, of all those currently present, he alone was permitted to press.

His eyes were on his watch, the black digits dancing before his eyes.

10:20:00

He pressed the button.

There was a hiss, followed by a harsh whoosh as something leapt from the cylinder. For an instant it was visible, a slightly smaller cylinder, its end tapering to a point, its base adorned with long, triangular fins.

Then there was a roar, a sound without compare in nature, for only humans could have created such a thing. The missile soared away into the sky, grey smoke billowing behind it, marking its passage.

The roar faded, as suddenly as it had come. And the missile was only a speck in the bright blue sky.

The turrets were retracted, descending back into the darkness from whence they had come. The roofs slid shut, and within a minute the train was moving, heading back the way it had come. If all had gone well, there would be a supply train waiting just north of them on the opposite track. They would exchange the empty container for a fresh missile, then set about their work again.

The day had just begun.

But the day's work would not soon end.

Now

Brussels, EU, 3rd July 2018 ATB, 11:52 AM

The Avalon

Aboard the IBFS Avalon, Schneizel watched tight-lipped as the blue bubble shimmered into being around the intruder.

"They have given us their answer," he said, to everyone and no one in particular. "Orders off to Magnificent and Formidable, they are to concentrate fire on the Adler. What is the status of our other forces?"

"Heavy losses to our airborne Gloucesters," called the Tactical officer. "Deck reports all knightmares ready."

"Message from Magnificent and Formidable," called the Comm officer. "Orders received and understood. Airborne Vincent Wards ready to launch."

"Very good. Have them intercept any enemy air units. Ground forces will engage and destroy the Interdictor, but watch out for EU ground units."

"Yes, your Highness."

"I never thought they'd actually build it," Lloyd mused.

"You know about it!" demanded Kanon. "That…thing!"

"Of course I know about it!" the scientist retorted, in his customary good humour. "The same way the EU knew about our own floatship projects. I'm just surprised they actually went ahead and built the thing, considering the trouble they'd have powering it." He shot a glance towards Nina, who was staring up at the Adler as if was about to dive in and claw out her eyes. "Eh Nina?"

"A nuclear reactor."

"Come again?" Cecile looked up from her station in surprise.

"A nuclear reactor," Nina repeated, unable to draw her eyes from the looming Adler. "It's the only way…the only way they could draw that much power."

"It makes sense," Lloyd agreed. "They've known about that sort of thing at least as long as we have." He glanced at Schneizel, who was staring straight ahead.

"But you knew that already, did you not, your Highness?"

Schneizel did not reply, but he shot an amused glance at Lloyd.

"Your Highness." The face of Aramis Custer appeared on the main screen, along with those of Suzaku Kururugi, Gino Weinberg, and Anya Earlstreim. "Should we not withdraw from the Interdictor's area of effect? If the EU has breached the ceasefire, our forces will be under attack."

"The EU has not breached the ceasefire," Schneizel replied, a vision of serenity in the chaos all around. "We received confirmation from President Dressler that he ordered the EU forces not to intervene. Those before us are obviously renegades, and we will be doing our European friends a favour by destroying them."

"Your Highness!" Aramis protested. "The risk is too grave. I implore you to withdraw and seek confirmation of the situation!"

"Lord Custer, you must trust my judgement." Schneizel stared straight into Aramis Custer's eyes, his gaze unflinching. "Please believe me. I know what I am doing."

For a moment, it seemed as though Aramis would plead again. Instead he fell silent, as if stunned by those eyes.

"Did you see it only now?" Lloyd thought, amused. "Did you understand only now? Did it take you this long to learn who he is? And what he plans to do? Were you really that naïve?"

"Lady Earlstreim," Schneizel turned his attention to Anya. "I need you to use your Hadron cannon on the Adler. Their Lordships will protect you while you carry this out. Is that clear?"

"Clear."

The Ikaruga

Lelouch managed to calm himself.

"Bridge!" he said into the comm. "What's our status?"

"Heat sinks at fully capacity!" Ayame replied. "All systems show green!"

"How long before we can get the shields back up?"

"Engineering wants twenty minutes minimum to vent the sinks!"

Lelouch suppressed a hiss of frustration. Twenty minutes without shields was the Ikaruga's path to the scrapyard. But he understood the engineers' reticence all the same. If they didn't get rid of at least some of the heat, he ran the risk of melting the shield projectors. While the Ikaruga's point-defences could handle knightmares and missiles, there was nothing they could do about railguns or, far worse, the Mordred's particle cannon.

There was nothing to do but buy twenty minutes.

"Helm! Take us up behind the Adler! We'll have to hide behind them until the sinks are vented."

"Yes, your Excellency."

He felt the Ikaruga shift, the view before him rotating as the floatship came about, the burning city falling away as they ascended. He could see the Adler clearly, a great golden raptor with wings spread, enclosed in shimmering blue. He made out the glow of the float engines, also blue, along the wings and the fanning tail.

He could also see the Britannian floatships, moving low over the rooftops to flank the Adler. The Avalon held its position, and Lelouch saw the flashes as the orange floatship opened fire with the railgun under its nose. The single remaining Caerleon ascended, firing with its own railguns, but having no more apparent effect than the Avalon.

"Kallen," he said, turning to look at the red knightmare standing a short distance from him. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Kallen's face reappeared on his screen. Lelouch saw her confident smile, and the sparkle of new hope in her beautiful eyes. He felt suddenly very soft and warm at the sight, a sensation that had become familiar since the night before.

"The main threat is the Mordred and the Rounds," he said, forcing himself to focus. "If Earlstreim takes out the Adler we're finished. Don't let her get a shot off."

"I should stay with you," Kallen replied, cheeks reddening. "That is, I'll guard you while you use the Zero Beam."

"Kallen, I need you to go," Lelouch insisted. "I can't fire the Zero Beam in mid-air, and I'll only get one shot anyway."

For all the power of the Zero Beam, essentially Laksharta's prototype derivative of the Britannian Hadron Cannon, it was not without its drawbacks. A full-power shot would drain his Energy Filler to almost nothing, meaning he could do little but stand, aim, and fire. Worse, he hadn't managed to use it in combat, so he wasn't entirely sure it would penetrate a Logres' shields.

"Kallen," he said again. "Please go. I need you to trust me." He stared into her eyes, and she into his.

"Live for me, my love." Her words were fervent, desperate. "If you die, I'll slaughter them till they kill me!"

For a moment, Lelouch was spellbound by her words, and the fervour behind them. He had seen something of that spirit before, in her eyes, and her words, and her deeds. He would never have believed that such a heart would be set on him. In that moment, he felt privileged above all men. In that brief moment, he was willing to believe that his life had been touched by God.

That life, he knew for sure, would never be the same again.

"If you die, Kallen, I won't live on." Lelouch touched one hand to the screen, wishing he could touch her for real. "We'll meet again…where all our loved ones are."

As he settled himself into position in the Zangetsu's cockpit, Tohdoh tried to force the dark thoughts from his mind.

She was up there, with Zero, even now.

He had made considerable efforts, gone to great lengths, to ascertain Zero's true identity. His suspicions had lighted upon a Britannian teenager with black hair and purple eyes, seen so many times in so many convenient places. Of course he had no evidence, but it had given him something to work with.

Could that boy be Zero?

Of course they had known from the beginning that Zero was not Japanese. Few if any in the Black Knights had not reached that conclusion sooner or later. His nationality, and other aspects of his identity, was a topic of furious debate. The two most popular theories were that he was a renegade Britannian Prince, and that he was trained EUROSEC agent.

Going on the evidence alone, the latter theory seemed the most likely. It was common knowledge that Prince Clovis' regime had been rotten with corruption, but the somewhat better informed knew that it was also riddled with agents of EUROSEC and the Veiled Pavilion, EUROSEC's Chinese counterpart. Supporting insurgencies was not the EU's usual MO, but he could see them making an exception.

But none of them knew what he, Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, knew.

None of them had been there, on that day eight years earlier, when a young boy had killed his own father for the sake of his country.

And for the Prince and Princess who had become his friends, and who by Genbu Kururugi's order faced death or worse.

Tohdoh felt a familiar pang of remorse as he thought of Suzaku Kururugi, the boy he had taught Kendo, and had come to love like a son. The boy who now served his country's destroyer, in an attempt to redeem himself that only one who knew him well could possibly make sense of. The boy, now a man, who waited only a few kilometres away, a knight in Britannia's service.

He had murdered his own father for Japan, and Japan repaid him with hate. It called Suzaku a traitor, Genbu Kururugi a martyr, and Kyoshiroh Tohdoh a hero. Suzaku had taken the blame for everything, for Japan's fall, and for seven years of misery and oppression. He had been called a traitor, a disgrace beside his father's noble sacrifice, a monumental disappointment.

If they knew anything, anything at all, they would blame Kyoshiroh Tohdoh.

He had been there, for all that time. He had seen what most would never see, and hear what most would never hear. He had known, or at least suspected.

And he had done nothing. Like some latter-day Hamlet he had dithered, blind and deaf to what his own eyes and ears tried to tell him, refusing to believe that Genbu Kururugi had it in him to cast down his own country.

Suzaku merely did what he, the Miracle-worker, did not have the resolve to do. Had he done it, and done it in time, than perhaps Japan might have been saved, and all the horror prevented.

At least, he might have saved the soul of a young boy.

And what of the other young boy, who would otherwise have died? The boy called Lelouch vi Britannia? The boy whose face Tohdoh saw whenever he looked upon that certain young man.

That certain young man went by the name of Lelouch Lamperouge. They had all learnt it one day when he strolled into a meeting behind Zero. It was Tamaki who made a fool of himself by demanding to know who the interloper was, even though he was wearing a Black Knights uniform and carrying Zero's paperwork. Zero had patiently introduced the youth as his new ADC, and no one had said anything more. For a time, Tohdoh had ticked Lelouch Lamperouge off his list of suspects.

That is, until the previous night.

Tohdoh knew enough of life and the world to know what had been going on in Zero's suite that night. Of all those who had been in the suite that night, only Lelouch and Kallen had stayed. It could not have been Zero, because Zero had come out to them some time earlier. He come to talk to his followers, to reassure them that everything was on schedule, and that they were going to succeed.

Except it wasn't Zero.

Tohdoh had no hard evidence, no meaningful proof. The Zero he had seen that night had talked like Zero, moved and even stood like Zero. He had only some instinct, some notion, that the Zero he had seen was false.

He knew that Zero was not always the same person. Sometimes it was CC, sometimes even Sayoko, though she was nominally in Diethard's employ. She could easily have delivered the documents to Dressler while Lelouch and Kallen were out on their date.

But even if Lelouch wasn't Zero, or if in fact they were all Zero, might he be that young boy with the black hair and the suspicious eyes?

It was a thought Tohdoh could not shake off, especially not since Zero had ordered his Black Knights to kidnap Prince Faramond u Britannia, the Emperor's grandson.

Zero's reasons had seemed valid. It was necessary, so he said, to kidnap the boy in order to destabilize the situation and bring about a resumption of conflict. Except it hadn't worked, because Schneizel had instead conspired with President Dressler against them.

And even that had been part of Zero's plan. By tricking Dressler into breaking the rules, he damaged the Peace faction's credibility. What was more, he had lured Schneizel into entering EU airspace with military floatships, breaking the ceasefire. On top of that, he had lured Schneizel into range of the Gefjun Interdictor, preventing him from commanding or even contacting his forces elsewhere.

By all accounts, it was a brilliant plan.

But had that been the only reason? Or was there in fact a Britannian Prince behind that mask, risking their lives because he was pining for his nephew?

Tohdoh didn't know. And that was the problem. He had tolerated Zero for so long because Zero had kept faith, bringing them victory after victory. It really didn't matter who he was, or who he had been, so long as he kept up his end.

But would the others see it that way?

A green light came on, drawing Tohdoh from his thoughts. He walked his Zangetsu out to the centre of the hangar, turning towards the lift that would bring him up to the main catapult. He stepped his knightmare onto the plate, and felt it ascend.

Now was not the time to worry about such things, not when battle was upon him.

The Adler, 11:58 AM.

"Are you certain you want to do this, Colonel sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel Morisato," Magnus Constantian replied, zipping up the heavy white flightsuit. "I am."

"Don't bother sir," groused Doctor Siegfried Clyne, the Adler's CMO. "I've made my concerns quite clear, but the Colonel not only insists on joining the battle, but on using the Angel's Vestment, which I feel it necessary to point out has not completed testing."

"The Rounds are out there." Magnus took a pair of long, gauntlet-like gloves from the locker and pulled them on, fastening them to the suit. "They've been a thorn in our side from the beginning." He looked up at them. "I need every edge I can get if I'm to stand a chance."

"And the Angel's Vestment will let you do it," proclaimed Professor Yusuf Ali, head of the research team who had created the so-called Angel's Vestment, and the Angel's Halo that preceded it. The man was in far better spirits than anyone else in the room. "This new version goes far beyond the Angel's Halo, to the point where Britannia's superconductivity advantage will be irrelevant."

"At the risk of talking to a wall, it has not…completed…testing." Clyne looked as if he was about to lose his temper. "I will not be held accountable if it leaves him a drooling vegetable!"

"You're exaggerating, as usual," Yusuf scoffed.

"Colonel Sir," Morisato looked straight at Magnus. "There is no need for you to fight. You are in command here."

Strictly speaking he was correct. The purpose of the Adler was to carry a single EUROFORCE Brigade, which was commanded by a Lieutenant Colonel. To avoid conflict between the floatship's captain and the Brigade's Lieutenant Colonel, it was decided that in such an arrangement, a full Colonel would have overall command.

"No, Lieutenant Colonel." Morisato was certain he could see something in those colourless eyes, something that had not been there before. Was it regret?

"Sir."

"The Legion is your command now, Lieutenant Colonel," Magnus went on. "I cannot give them orders, but I cannot stay up here doing nothing either." He looked down at his gloved hand, clenching it into a fist. "If all I can do is fight, then I will fight."

Morisato knew in that moment that Magnus would not be dissuaded. He understood what was going through his head, more so than the albino realised.

"In any case, I can coordinate with you using the command interface." Magnus took the last item from inside the locker, a silver-coloured circlet that gleamed in the sterile light. He snapped off a salute, Morisato doing likewise, then stalked off through the door, followed closely by Yusuf Ali.

"But you're wrong, Magnus Constantian," Morisato thought as he watched the Colonel go.

"That man," said an exasperated Clyne, "will get himself killed before too long."

"That man," Morisato retorted, "would tear his own heart out to save Europe."

"Yes, he probably would."

The heavy door slid open.

Magnus stepped through, into a large chamber set apart from the hangar. Standing in the centre was a knightmare frame, painted dark green. It looked vaguely like a Britannian Vincent, but somewhat heavier-set. Its name was Charlemagne, for Europe's ancient unifier, the hope of a better future.

But it was different from when he had piloted it back in the Sudan. Its arms, once stick-thin like those of Britannian knightmares, were now well-armoured and hefty. Its waist was also thick, armour skirts reaching over the tops of the legs, and its shoulders had been similarly enhanced. Looking closer, he saw a rounded cylinder set between each shoulder and the knightmare's neck, set in a mount that could move it from straight up to level.

He was more than a little surprised that the NPBs had been included. EUROFORCE was pulling out all the stops.

"Yes, that's her," Yusuf reassured him with a grin. "They let us finish up after they brought you back from Africa. We were able to add all the stuff we were working on." He gestured along the gangway, which led from the door to the knightmare's waist. Magnus followed his lead, their feet clunking on the gangway as they approached the refitted Charlemagne. The gantry curved around the knightmare's back, with a gap cut into it for some reason. Two technicians looked up and saluted.

"Is it ready Yuri?" Yusuf asked.

"All set sir," replied the technician. "Shall I open her up?"

"Go ahead." At that, Yuri turned to the knightmare's back, flipped up a panel, and slipped a knightmare key into a socket. One quick turn did the job, the knightmare's back opening with a clunk. The rear section, complete with the back unit and retracted wings, lowered into the gap.

"One moment sir, while we plug you in." Yuri and the other tech reached into the interior and pulled out two lengths of cable. These they attached to the suit, fitting them into sockets under the flaps covering his knees.

"Okay, climb in like normal and we'll do the rest." Magnus complied, stepping gingerly into the frame. He felt his feet touch the pedals, and the techs spooled in the loose cables. They then attached similar cables to other sockets on his suit, on his upper legs, waist, upper chest, elbows, and neck. The last cable they attached to the circlet, before fitting it onto Magnus' head, circling his brow like a crown. Yuri pressed the key into his hand, and Magnus slid it into its socket.

He turned, and felt the knightmare come online. The screen before his eyes flickered to life, showing the standby icon and the brightly-coloured bar filling as the systems booted up.

"All right!" Yusuf called encouraging from behind him. "We're locking you in. You don't actually have to do anything, so just relax. I'll talk you through from the observation gallery. Okay?"

Magnus gave him a thumbs up, and slid his arms into the manipulator arrays. He felt the frame clunk shut behind him, sealing him in darkness, the only light being the screen in front of him.

Then he realised that his heart was pounding.

"Calm" he thought. "Control. Don't be afraid." He breathed in and out, controlling his metabolism as he had been taught. He had never needed such methods before now.

Before him.

"Can you hear me sir?" It was Yusuf over the comm.

"Affirmative," Magnus replied, the comm activating with a thought. Such was the magic of the Angel's Halo.

"Great! I need you to relax before we activate the Angel's Vestment. To be fair Clyne had a point. We need your brain activity to be stable before we do anything."

"Calm," Magnus fought to control his breathing, to control his racing mind. He was not used to this. He was not used to having to control himself like this. He had never needed to before.

"Calm. Control. Discipline."

"Okay, that should do it," Yusuf said. "All systems show green. Hold your current state, and we activate in t-minus 5…4…3…2…1…

Magnus screamed.

His world had gone white. He could not move, could not think. No part of him would respond. But still he felt as though he was being struck by lightning, every nerve shrieking in agony, all at once.

His world went black.

He opened his eyes.

Except he didn't have eyelids. Or eyes for that matter.

He was in the bay. He looked around, his neck humming and whirring. He brought up his hands. They were metal, segmented, like those of…

"Nice, isn't it!" came a familiar voice inside his head. "Total immersion! You can move that frame like it's your own body!"

"Yusuf?" His voice sounded like he was on the other end of a phone.

"Don't worry sir, your sync rate is 92% and your brain activity's holding steady!" Magnus looked at what he realised was the observation gallery, and saw Yusuf Ali waving at him. "Just keep your mind clear, and focus on what you want it to do. It'll react to whatever you think."

Curious, Magnus wondered about his weapons. A diagram in translucent green flashed into being on the right-hand side of his field of vision. It showed what he recognized as the Paladin's Gauntlet, set onto the…his right arm. It was, as the name implied, a heavy gauntlet, covering the fingers and reaching up to the elbow. In it was set a 30mm autocannon, not unlike those used by the Black Knights. But the Paladin's Gauntlet was much heavier-set, enough that Magnus could beat another knightmare into scrap without fear of damaging it.

On the left side of his vision he saw another Gauntlet, this one equipped with one of the new NPB projectors.

"Oh yeah," Yusuf called again. "We added one of the experimental Beam Sabers too. I'm not entirely sure it'll work, but now's as good a time to test it as any. Everything green?"

"All green," Magnus replied, cycling through the knightmare's systems as his mind grew accustomed to its surroundings. All was ready.

"We're opening the doors!" The heavy doors clunked open before him, revealing the wide hangar deck. Fighting down wonder and bewilderment, Magnus walked.

And so he walked. His heavy feet clunked on the deck plates, his joints hummed and whirred. Without thinking about it, he clasped his hands behind his back, walking in his accustomed fashion, ignoring the stares from the deck crew.

The knightmares were ready. Forty of them, consisting of Byakko and Shujaku Squadrons, equipped with the new Lupo knightmares. Each was shorter than a standard knightmare, about three metres tall. Like his Charlemagne, they were worn rather than piloted. The digitigrade legs were broad at the top, narrowing down to wide feet, housing retracted Landspinners. A short, thick waist reached up to heavy arms either side of a broad plastron, topped by a stylized lupine head with pricked ears, a long snout, and a curved red visor in place of eyes.

They stood in ranks either side of his path. Their snouts turned to face him as he approached, striding down the middle towards the open hatch. He could sense something from them, something like wonder, or perhaps disbelief.

"Colonel sir!" came a voice over the comm. "Is that you in there?"

"Yes, Captain Kobayashi, it is," Magnus replied, feeling a shiver of amusement and satisfaction. "This time, I can fight alongside you all." For a moment, there was silence, the only sound being the background hum of the Adler.

"Hakuoh!" Kobayashi yelled, thrusting his Lupo's arm into the air.

"HAKUOH!" the other pilots did likewise, the hangar echoing with their approbation. As they chanted their battlecry, Magnus felt his amusement turn to something else, something equally unfamiliar.

Excitement. Exultation. Perhaps even…

Joy?

At his feet, the heavy doors slid open, clunking and groaning as they went. Magnus stood at the lip, staring down at the shimmering shield far below. The panes below the hatch were somewhat larger than the others, being projected from the edges. He stared down, his exultation rising.

"Hyperion to Bridge. Request launch clearance."

"Bridge to Hyperion. Clearance confirmed." The shields flickered and vanished. Magnus could see the city clearly. He could see the blasted ruins, the rubble, and the flames. He could see the flashes of gunfire, and the white lines of flying missiles. He saw the buildings fly apart in clouds of rubble.

Magnus leapt.

He felt himself falling. He could hear the wind whistling as he picked up speed, the seconds ticking away in his mind. He needed to fly. The flight unit responded, engines roaring as they came online, bearing him around and up in a graceful arc, white contrails marking his path.

Magnus gave a cry of triumph. Was this the epitome of joy? To fly through the sky as if by himself? He felt like a god, or an angel.

An angel of death.

His joy faded as he saw them coming. Twelve Vincent Wards in Royal Guard purple, flying straight from the Avalon.

The Avalon, where Schneizel was.

Schneizel the destroyer. Schneizel the liar. Schneizel the trickster. Schneizel, whose honeyed words had kept the EU divided at the critical time. Schneizel, who hurled millions to their deaths for the sake of victory.

Right there, in a white and orange floatship. Right in front of him.

And the joy was gone, replaced by something else. No less alive, no less powerful, but dark and terrible.

"White Tiger, take the left," he said, his voice sibilant with mounting aggression. "Red Phoenix, take the right. Leave these to me." He was already some distance ahead of the descending Lupos, and the Vincent Wards had noticed him. They banked towards him in formation, assault rifles ready.

Magnus accelerated, blazing towards the oncoming knightmares like a comet. Lines of tracer split the sky as they opened fire. Magnus rolled, over and over, moving from side to side, the deadly bullets passing him by.

"NPB!" The weapon responded, the targeting reticules dancing across his vision. With a thought they slid over the nearest Vincent Ward, changing colour from red to green as each slotted into place. Target locked.

"Fire!" A thought, an instinct, an impulse. He heard the hiss of annihilated dust as the world turned momentarily white. Then his vision was clear, and he saw one of the enemy knightmares coming on, a scorched black hole disfiguring its rounded plastron. An instant later, almost too fast to register the fact, it vanished in a flash of light. The rest split apart, but kept on coming, still firing. Behind them a dozen Gloucesters vectored in, launching from the last Caerleon.

Magnus knew what was happening to him. He had seen it countless times, in countless others, but had never experienced it himself.

A roar burst from his lungs, his throat straining with the force of it. Rage overwhelmed him, silencing his reason, and driving him towards the purple knightmares. He was upon one of them in an instant, driving one heavy fist into its chest. The Paladin's Gauntlet crushed the curved plastron and drove the unfortunate knightmare back. It fell away, but Magnus was already moving, lashing out at another Vincent Ward that dove to challenge him, pulling the Beam Saber from its compartment. It activated with a hiss, a blade of radiant light.

He kicked, the Charlemagne's leg catching the enemy's outstretched arm, batting it aside. He dived onto the Vincent Ward, batting the other arm aside and bringing the shining blade down in an overhead Kara Take strike. The blade cut down through the head, down through the chest armour, and into the yggdrasil drive. He kicked the ruined knightmare away, watched it fall for a moment before it exploded.

He ascended with a burst from his flight unit, dodging the gunfire from the Gloucesters. One look showed him that he was surrounded, the Gloucesters on the outside and the nine remaining Vincent Wards on the inside. The Vincent Wards charged him, Stun Tonfa crackling, forcing him to duck and dive. He tried to break away from the swarm, only to face a wall of gunfire. He turned back, but the Vincent Wards were upon him again.

Magnus felt another sensation, one he only vaguely remembered, and did not much like.

Fear.

Lelouch saw the EU knightmares launch. He saw them swarming from the Adler's belly like so many hornets, tiny black shapes against the sky. The swarm split in two, heading for the Magnificent and Formidable below, Vincent Wards rising to meet them.

He saw movement inside the blue barrier. Focussing, he saw what appeared to be gun turrets coming to bear. Down below, the main railgun turrets of Magnificent and Formidable were doing likewise.

They fired. What looked like tiny spots of light leapt from the barrels, crossing the space in what seemed like an instant, striking the shields with a flash. As each one fired, the shield pane covering it winked out for a fraction of an instant, allowing the deadly projectile to pass. Zero could not help but marvel at the sight, even though he knew this was only the beginning of a long and difficult struggle.

Breaching a Blaze Luminous, or any modern energy shield, was tricky at the best of times. The basic idea behind all shields was the same. A shield was projected over a certain area, with a certain amount of energy running through it. Some of this was lost as heat and visible light, which was why shields could be seen, but otherwise a shield did not expend energy simply by virtue of existing. It blocked incoming attacks simply by existing as a certain amount of energy in a given place at a given time, an amount that the attack would have to exceed in that place and at that time in order to penetrate.

Not many weapons could do that. With something like a Hadron cannon, one could apply enough energy continuously to a given point to cancel out the shield. No conventional weapon, not even railguns, could put out that much energy in one shot. Kinetic weapons nonetheless brought their own problems, for even though the shield could make the projectile ricochet away or detonate, at least some of the kinetic energy would pass through the shield and into the hull.

The Adler's forward guns were firing too, concentrating on the lone surviving Caerleon. Bright lights flashed across the sky, pattering on the emerald barrier like rain on a puddle, and Lelouch knew the clash would be short. The Caerleon simply did not have the power output or heat sink capacity of a Logres, and it had already endured a long and hard battle.

Sure enough, the Blaze Luminous flickered and died, the Adler's shots pitting the green and yellow hull. Then, against all reason, the Adler's upper shields suddenly winked out, giving Lelouch a clear view of the avian floatship's topside, and the gun turrets.

"Coilguns" he thought, noting the cylindrical barrels. It made sense. Coilguns could not match the sheer power of railguns, but required less power, and did not overheat quite so badly. It explained the rapid rate of fire, and fitted what he knew of EU doctrine. The sudden dropping of the upper shields did not surprise him one bit, for he knew what was coming.

Sure enough, he saw the small round hatches open in the golden hull. There were four of them, two to the front, two to the rear, spread out wide across the hull. Four black cylinders leapt up, one from each, smoke billowing from underneath as the missiles sped away. Then there four more, and four more, until twelve missiles were racing towards the stricken Caerleon. The escort's point-defence turrets emerged, opening up in a last desperate defence. Some of the missiles erupted as they were struck, but cold, unfeeling mathematics and ruthless probability made it a hopeless gesture.

The first hit blew away the main catapult. The second was on the lower float engine. For an instant nothing seemed to happen, as the missile burrowed into the hull. Then the whole section blew apart in a brilliant flash, followed an instant later by a bang that stung Lelouch's ears. The two remaining missiles tore into the main fuselage, even as the upper float engine was engulfed by its exploding twin. The Caerleon seemed to wobble and ripple, like a kite on Children's Day. Then it vanished in a billowing cloud.

Even as this happened, the Adler's shields had been raised again.

Flashes of light drew Lelouch's attention back to the knightmares, as they closed into combat range in the Adler's vast shadow. He blinked, then keyed to zoom in.

He wasn't seeing things. There were the flashes of white light, again and again, seeming to pass between the EU and Britannian knightmares. He could also see tracer fire, with flashes and clouds of smoke marking the kills.

There seemed to be a lot more flashes on the Britannian side than the EU.

Brow furrowed, Lelouch keyed at his comm.

"Laksharta! Are you getting this!"

"I am I am!" came a cheery reply. "It looks like our European friends have something new to show off!"

"What is it!" Lelouch was in no mood for her levity. If the EU had some kind of new weapon, he wanted to know what it was and what it could do.

And how best to get his hands on it.

"I've got a still here!" Lelouch saw the message icon, clicked on it, and a still image appeared on his main screen. It showed a knightmare frame, shorter than average, with bulbous upper legs and a vaguely canine head. What truly drew his attention was the white pencil lines extending from their bulbous forearms.

"A beam weapon!" he exclaimed. "Some kind of Hadron Blaster?"

"Only in the broadest sense," Laksharta replied. "From my readings they look like neutral particle beams."

"Particle beams?" Lelouch was momentarily stunned. "They have that technology?"

"I heard of a civilian project a while back," Laksharta mused. "In which case I think I know how they did it."

"And?"

"Nothing like as powerful as Hadron weapons or the Radiant Wave Surger, but a lot simpler, and a lot less power drain. Also they can make them smaller. They probably wanted a general-deployment weapon rather than something tasty for the aces."

That he could believe. The EU did not believe in heroes, at least not the way Britannia did. They wanted maximum benefit for the greatest number, and had not yet produced any pilots as capable as those who occupied Britannia's Round Table. As such, it made perfect sense to create a weapon that could be built extensively and used widely, rather than building something only an ace could use effectively.

It seemed to be working. Lelouch returned his attention to the battle, and saw that the EU knightmares seemed to be gaining an advantage over the Britannians. There were no more of the white flashes, but the smaller knightmares were darting in amongst the Vincent Wards, firing tracer and small missiles from their wrists. He watched in disbelief as the smaller frames dodged bursts of gunfire, darted sideways to dodge crackling Stun Tonfa, poured fire into their enemies' exposed backs.

It made no sense. How could the EU have built knightmares that could match the Vincent Ward in manoeuvrability? The sheer amount of sakuradite in their systems should have made it impossible.

Unless…

It occurred to him, as he watched the swirling combat. The EU knightmares weren't outmanoeuvring the Vincent Wards, not as such. It wasn't a question of the knightmares themselves.

It was the pilots. They were somehow thinking faster, reacting faster. He could see it, watching as a blue Vincent Ward dived at one of the lupine knightmares, assault rifle blazing. The EU frame dodged out of the way with a burst from its flight unit, then again as the Vincent Ward tried to shift its aim. Another burst, and it was passing above the Vincent Ward, which was only then beginning to turn. A missile leapt from the knightmare's outstretched arm, blowing the Vincent Ward apart.

But how could they do it? What technology would allow such a level of efficiency?

The present faded as Lelouch's mind boggled and calculated.

"What the hell is that!" Kallen snapped.

She had seen the green knightmare deploy from the Adler's belly, watched in disbelief as it charged straight at the Britannians deploying from the Avalon and the late Caerleon and proceeded to butcher them in short order.

"Nothing in the registry!" Chiba's voice came over the comm. "It might be their new Charlemagne."

"It makes no sense!" protested Urabe. "How can they build an eight-gen frame!"

"It doesn't matter!" Tohdoh interjected. "Second and Third Squadrons! Break off and attack the floatships! Zero and First Squadron, assist the ground forces! Red Lotus! Holy Swords! On me!"

"Red Lotus! Will comply!" Kallen snapped back her reply, her comm buzzing with the voices of the other pilots as they acknowledged Tohdoh's orders. She did not mind taking orders from Kiseki-no-Tohdoh, and she didn't much mind him ordering her squadron around.

She never felt much like a leader anyway.

She could see the melee up ahead, and knew that they would have to intervene quickly. The green knightmare had destroyed several Britannians, slicing at them with a glowing blade, but the enemy had adapted, switching to harassment tactics. One Vincent Ward would challenge the green knightmare from the front, only to drop away as it came on, other Vincent Wards coming in from behind. The few Gloucesters to have made it off the destroyed Caerleon hung back, harassing the Charlemagne with gunfire. Kallen was amazed that the darting green machine had survived it for so long.

"How is it so responsive?" she thought. She felt a devicer's curiosity, itching to get behind the Charlemagne's controls, to feel it around her, to see how it responded to her touch. She smirked briefly as she thought of Laksharta, watching from aboard the Ikaruga, doubtless ready to give her front teeth, or perhaps even her pipe, for a sniff around the green knightmare's systems, to say nothing of that energy blade.

Enough. It was time to help that unknown pilot, that madman who charged a dozen enemies on his own.

Kallen tweaked the controls, aiming the Guren at the outer edge of the swarm. Her scanner screen showed the four custom Akatsuki knightmares and Tohdoh's black Zangetsu spreading out, forming a hexagram formation. Behind them, the four squadrons of Akatsukis broke away, two heading for the Logres', two to attack the Britannian ground forces. Her confidence grew when she saw how few Britannian icons remained on the screen. With their airborne knightmares lost, the floatships would be hard-pressed, forced to keep all their shields online. Tohdoh knew what he was doing, and so, evidently, did the Europeans.

The Britannians saw them coming, as the Black Knights brought up their arms. The twin coilguns on their right wrists blazed, while missiles leapt from their left wrists. The missiles were Laksharta's creations, essentially bomb-pumped versions of her Guren's Radiant Wave Surger. Kallen remembered seeing them in China, seeing the Chinese AFVs bubble and distort before they exploded. The Vincent Wards broke away, dodging the deadly missiles as Kallen knew they would. Two fell away, caught by the gunfire, wreathed in smoke and flame. The Gloucesters turned their rifles on the missiles, shooting down two of them, but the other three struck, downing two Gloucesters and a Vincent Ward.

Two of the Vincent Wards came about, drawing their rifles from under their cockpits, aiming them at the oncoming Guren. Kallen pressed back the pedals, accelerating straight at them, firing from her knightmare's wrist and bringing back the Fukushahado. The enemy frames split in opposite directions, seeking to break away to either side.

But Kallen did not do what they expected.

As she passed between them, she rolled the Guren on its back, aiming the jagged claw straight up at the knightmare racing overhead. The weapon was at full charge, the red and purple burst passing the gap in a fraction of an instant. The Vincent Ward flew straight into the beam, emerging from it a distorted mass of bubbling metal and composite, blowing up a moment later. The remaining Vincent Ward turned and ascended, hoping to catch the red knightmare from behind. But Kallen was already ascending, bringing the coilgun on Guren's left wrist to bear. The Vincent Ward flew straight into the line of fire, bullets the size of beer bottles crushing its head and puncturing its armoured plastron, tearing into the yggdrasil drive and the battery that powered it. The Vincent Ward vanished in a flash of light.

Kallen hissed in satisfaction. Like all too many Britannian knights that last one had jumped at the chance of a kill, though the manoeuvre had taken him straight into her line of fire. Well trained, but evidently not experienced.

The bout had ended as quickly as it had begun. Tohdoh and his followers had already downed the remaining Vincent Wards, and were mopping up the Gloucesters. Kallen turned her attention to the Charlemagne, which was hovering rather disconsolately nearby.

She examined the frame for a moment. It was slightly shorter than most knightmares, only about three to four meters tall, generally stockier and more self-contained. It lacked the bulbous cockpit common to Britannian knightmares, and did not appear to carry any weapons. A closer look revealed the short nozzles set into the stocky forearms.

"Those beam weapons from before."

It was a strange design, like none Kallen had ever seen. The strangest part by far was that she couldn't see where the pilot was supposed to go. She thought it most unlikely that the knightmare was a drone, and besides, there was something almost human about the way it moved.

She keyed her comm.

"Red Lotus to Hyperion." No reply.

"Hey! Psycho in green! I'm talking to you!"

The head snapped round. It was like that of a Gloucester, but less detailed. The shallow chevron visor glowed an angry red as it regarded her.

"Hyperion to Red Lotus," came the voice of Magnus Constantian over the comm. "I'm grateful for your help, but don't presume too much of it. I have unfinished business with your boss."

"Yeah, about that…"

Kallen knew what he meant. Lelouch had told her everything the night before, as they lay together and talked…

No. Now was not the time to be thinking about that. Now was not the time to think about how cutely Lelouch's bangs framed his face, or the feeling of his narrow arms around her, his skin so soft and smooth, the warmth of his…

"Listen! I'll explain later, but now we have to work together! The floatships are deadlocked, so it's up to us!"

She knew she was right. Behind them, the Magnificent and the Formidable were exchanging fire with the Adler, ascending in the hope of a clear line of fire on the Ikaruga, which manoeuvred to avoid them. Kallen could see the air around the Ikaruga rippling, the heat sinks still venting. She checked her clock.

Five more minutes.

"Rolo!" she keyed her comm again. "What's your situation!"

"Not looking good!" Rolo sounded harassed. "The Britannians are coming at us on three sides! We've got their advance guard pinned down but we can't manoeuvre! They'll…! Gotta go! There's a Round here!" He disconnected before Kallen could reply.

"Listen!" she snapped, returning her attention to Magnus. "I wish I could take back what happened to you, but I can't!"

She could not. And she could not tell him either. She could never tell that man, that cold, pale man, of how Lelouch truly felt about it. She could never tell him about his remorse, his regret, at the sorrow of so many inescapable crimes.

"If we don't work together, our people on the ground will get wiped out and the Gefjun Interdictor destroyed!" she went on. "In case you were wondering, the whole point was to keep Schneizel out of the loop so he can't coordinate! So will you help us or will you sulk!"

The Charlemagne hovered where it was. Tohdoh and his followers loomed overhead, ready to strike at one false move. Kallen felt her heart pounding, and wondered if he would attack.

"Very well."

Kallen saw something extend from the Charlemagne's back. Her console beeped, informing her that the Charlemagne had established a datalink of some kind.

"I've ordered our ground units to help yours, along with our knightmares."

"Thanks!" Kallen sighed in relief. "We should…"

"LOOK OUT!"

Sharply-honed reflexes pressed Kallen's feet back. The Guren leapt backwards, the other knightmares scattering away like the pieces of a breaking glass.

A blue beam flashed through the empty air they had occupied an instant earlier. It hissed past, splashing over the Adler's shields. They looked back along its path.

And there was a white knightmare, floating in midair on crimson wings.

Lancelot.

Kallen glanced at her scanner screen, and saw three more contacts approaching at speed. The screen rattled off their transponder codes.

Tristan

Palomedes

Mordred

"Where's Bradley?" she thought with a hiss of anger. "Where's that butcher? Is he down there attacking Rolo?"

"Kallen, go and help Rolo!" Tohdoh commanded. "We'll deal with them!"

"Okay!" Kallen turned and dived.

"Hey there Hideaki!" Senba called to the Charlemagne. "We were JSDF and JLF before we were Black Knights, so don't feel bad about fighting with us!" The Charlemagne glanced up at him, then back at the oncoming Britannians.

"I'll fight," Magnus replied, reactivating the Beam Saber. "No matter who or what you are."

Brussels, 12:10 PM

Shinichiro Tamaki snarled an expletive, though despair was winning over rage in his heart.

He had managed to extricate himself from his escape pod, and from the Department Store lingerie section in which it had landed. He had even made his way across the rubble of the EU's Capital to the Black Knight's position. But there was little for him to do there. They had no knightmares to spare, and everyone else seemed to have a job to do. Even Diethard's people were on the ground, making sure the various journalists and camera crews got the right information. They made sure that the cameras got the best shots, of Black Knights helping the civilians to safety, of Black Knights defending the people of Brussels with their lives, of Britannians wreaking death and destruction wherever they went.

Frustrated, he had snatched up some dead man's rifle, and darted into the rubble. He had stood on a pile of wreckage and blazed away, daring the Britannians to come get some.

A hail of bullets soon made him think better of it, dropping down into cover.

He knew he wasn't particularly brave, or all that talented. He was just plain old Shinichiro Tamaki, an aspiring bureaucrat who liked to drink and talk and enjoy himself. He knew, deep in his soul, what the others thought of him. He knew well enough that whatever he might say, he was anything but Zero's best buddy.

He knew it would all end someday. The best he could have hoped for was to return to civilian life, in a Japan set free and risen anew, a Japan in which he could live his life in with dignity and satisfaction. Maybe open a Bistro.

Or he would bleed to death in a puddle with his spleen hanging out and his pockets rifled.

Even so, he had hoped to do something worthwhile. He had hoped to have made a contribution, so that the other Black Knights would point him out and say that's Shinichiro Tamaki, our good comrade. He wanted to be someone.

But there was little chance of it now. He was going to die. His only legacy would be a name on a war memorial, if he was lucky.

Then again, it could have been worse.

Tamaki checked his rifle as he heard the rumbling come closer. If this was it, better to go down fighting. He poked his head up.

And stared.

There were Britannian knightmares there, but they weren't shooting at him. They were shooting out away from him. Their targets were some green shapes approaching out of the dusty haze, firing in return.

Tamaki squinted as they got closer. They looked vaguely like Panzer-Hummels, or at least the torsos did. It was heavier-set, with thicker arms and legs. In place of forearms were enormous twin linear cannons, larger than what the Panzer-Hummel normally carried. Upon its shoulders were long missile pods, running parallel to the cockpit. This version had a single head, with a short snout, glowing red visor in place of eyes, and short, rounded ears, putting Tamaki in mind of a bear.

"The new Panzer-Bjorn?" he thought, remembering the intelligence brief.

Infantry in grey EUROFORCE body armour crept around the rubble, firing at the Britannian infantry. He could see other vehicles behind, these with six wheels and low-slung chassis. They fired with gun turrets or missile pods, and what looked like turreted mortars.

Who were they?

"Hey! You there!"

The angry yell drew Tamaki's attention to a trio of grey-armoured infantrymen standing about twenty metres away, having approached him without his notice. They were pointing rifles at him.

"Hey wait a minute!" he protested, raising his hands. "I'm on your side!"

"Who the hell are you!" one of the soldiers demanded.

Tamaki was momentarily stunned. He could have sworn the man was shouting at him in Japanese.

"I said who the hell are you!" the soldier yelled again. This time Tamaki was certain.

"I'm with the Black Knights!" he yelled back. "Are you guys Japanese!"

"JL Brigade!" one of them proclaimed with evident pride. "Europe's Japanese Legion!"

Tamaki's heart leapt.

Rolo gritted his teeth.

The knightmare standing in front of him was a monstrosity. It looked like the twisted lovechild of the Lancelot and a suit of late medieval plate armour. Spikes jutted out from its elbows, shoulders, and heels. A tall blade reached up from its forehead. Even the vanes of its float engine were curved and blade-like.

The Percival was the work of a diseased mind, the armour of one who revelled in slaughter. The person behind the controls was either a psychotic killer or a pretentious fool.

Rolo knew which it was. He knew a great deal of Luciano Bradley, the so-called Vampire of Britannia, a man whose joy lay entirely in the destruction of human life. A man of profound but entirely justified arrogance, who knew that in all the Empire none but the distant, absent Emperor had any authority over him. A man who, in the sating of his bloodlust, had single-handedly wrecked Prince Schneizel's best efforts to keep the war with the EU civilized. His failure to control the bloodthirsty knight had caused much bitterness, and Britannian soldiers and civilians had suffered for it.

"So you're the one who stole the prototype!" Bradley drawled. "A good choice! So good in fact, that I chose it for my Valkyries."

Sure enough, four pink Vincent knightmares stood on the rooftops in a diamond formation, surrounding them. They were the dreaded Grausam Valkyries, four female Devicers who followed Bradley into battle and obeyed his commands. Some said they enjoyed killing as much as he did.

"Valkyries!" Bradley ordered. "See to it that we are not disturbed!"

"Yes, my Lord!" chorused four female voices, the pink knightmares rocketing away.

"I'll kill you myself!" Rolo snarled.

"Oh will you?"

Rolo was already leaping skyward as missiles leapt from the shield on Percival's left arm. The street where he had stood vanished in a flurry of explosions. Rolo looked down, and saw the jagged shape leap from the cloud of dust, float engines glowing.

Rolo fired, filling the air with bullets, but the Percival dodged them, spinning like a top as it came on, the claws on its right hand sliding around the wrist. The wrist began to rotate, spinning at such a speed that only a green glow could be seen.

Rolo had heard of the Particle Drill Lance, and had no wish to feel its touch.

He let his Vincent fall, dropping away as the Percival boiled straight up. The knightmare halted, swiping the Drill around, barely missing Vincent's head.

Rolo boosted back, away from his enemy, bringing up his wrist cannons to fire. Twin streams of tracer lanced across the open space, but once again Percival dodged, slipping through the air with the grace of a dancer. The jagged hips split open, revealing the Hadron blasters hidden within. Rolo found himself dodging as they fired, glowing pulses hissing past. Percival dived in on him, Drill glowing green, ready to spear his Vincent like a fish. Rolo gave a snarl, pressing his feet hard down. Vincent's wings glowed, bearing him up and out of danger.

But Bradley was only warming up. Percival rolled onto its back, blasters firing up at him. Rolo jerked sideways, returning fire, but the Percival just seemed to dance away, soaring up and around in a wide arc. Rolo fired as Percival dived in on him, again to no avail. In desperation he fired his Rocket anchors. Bradley did likewise, the purple spikes leaping from his knightmare's shoulders to bat away the Vincent's anchors. Rolo gasped when the identical spike on Percival's head stabbed at him, the purple blade scoring across his chest armour. The force flung Vincent away, cockpit alarms beeping and wailing. Rolo hissed in frustration and pain as the Percival continued its dive. The enemy was too fast and too agile to defeat at a distance.

Forcing himself to focus, he pulled the twin Maser Vibration Swords from their scabbards. As the Percival came closer, he slammed them together, pommels rotating and locking, two becoming one. He forced his Vincent up, charging at the oncoming Percival. His lance caught the Drill, parrying it away with a hiss like escaping steam, the other blade scoring across Percival's shield. They broke apart, Percival hovering where it was for a moment, as if appraising him.

"Most don't last this long!" Bradley crowed. "You've some spirit at least!"

Rolo was in no mood for talk. With a snarl of fury he twirled his staff and leapt at the Percival. He charged, even as the Hadron blasters tore at his Vincent, knowing that his only hope was to strike straight at his enemy. His mouth opened in a scream as he got closer and closer. The Percival seemed to be smirking at him.

He lashed out with the lance. Percival's claw caught the blade, the shield thrusting forward to force him away.

But Rolo had his opening. He brought up his left elbow, the Needle Blazer extending as it came. If Bradley realised the threat, then it was too late. The Needle Blazer flashed, the burst of energy hurling the Percival away. It tumbled end over end, falling down into the ruined city. Rolo dived after it, lance aimed for his enemy's heart, even as it righted and landed. A battlecry leapt from his throat as thrust the lance down.

Into empty ground.

Luciano Bradley had not attained his exalted rank for nothing. In the merest instant that Rolo struck, his knightmare was backing away.

Rolo stood up, as the dust blew away around him. He looked straight at Percival, standing in front of him. Around them was a blasted crater, that had once been a line of fine buildings. For an instant they stared eachother down.

Too late, Rolo saw the four contacts closing in. He tried to move, but found he could not. He could only turn Vincent's head, to see the rocket anchors pulling his arms and legs taut. They belonged to the four pink Vincents, his knightmare's treacherous sisters.

"Nicely done Valkyries!" Bradley exclaimed, triumphant. "Hold him tight!"

"Yes, my Lord!"

Frantic, Rolo fired his own anchors. But Bradley slashed with his claws, cutting the cables, the heads bouncing away into the rubble.

"That was an entertaining bout! Don't be ashamed as you die!" The claws slid around the wrist, span, and glowed green as the specialized Blaze Luminous came online. Percival brought up its drill, ready to finish it.

"No!" Rolo yelled, as death advanced to claim him. "Brother!"

But then Percival was leaping away, a burst of black and red blasting the ground on which it had stood. Rolo felt the grip slacken as the pink Vincents broke away. Terror took over, and he yanked on the controls, his Vincent coming around and away. He saw one of the enemy Vincents in front of him, bringing up her rifle to fire. Rolo was beyond thought, beyond restraint, as he drove the lance into the Vincent's plastron, the glowing blade tearing through the pink armour and into the yggdrasil drive. He did not hesitate, but raced on by, pulling the blade out behind him. As the pink Vincent exploded, his mind cleared, and he looked around to see who had delivered him.

"You okay Rolo!" called a familiar voice. Rolo glanced around, and saw the red knightmare menacing the Percival.

"Kallen!"

Kyoshiroh Tohdoh had known that this fight would come again.

He fought with his black sword, the Lancelot with its twin blades. They had dived, struck, parried, blocked, broke apart, then charged and struck again. On and on and on they had fought, all other weapons, all others, all the world forgotten. It was a contest of the sword, a contest of pride.

"Your skills have grown Suzaku."

How strange that they, mortal enemies once master and student, could talk so in the middle of a battle? What ironies could modern technology weave?

"Do not seek to flatter me, Tohdoh-sensei." The harshness of his former student's voice pricked at his heart. "I will not permit you to ruin Prince Schneizel's efforts."

"Such a peace is Japan's doom, Suzaku!" Strike, parry, withdraw. "Do not tell me you care naught for your homeland!"

"I murdered my own father for Japan's sake!" Blow, blow, block, block, withdraw. "I have damned myself! Only by bringing peace to this world can I atone!"

"I have done you wrong, Suzaku." Tohdoh meant it, even as he lashed out with his black sword. "You did what I had not the courage to do. It is because of me that you suffer this agony."

"What do you know of agony!" Suzaku demanded, driving the Lancelot in again. "What do you know of my pain!"

"It is the pain of your misplaced remorse!" Tohdoh protested, blocking the furious blows. "It is the agony of your misguided quest! You belong with us, Suzaku!"

"Never!"

To Tohdoh, it was as if his old student was pouring his anger and pain into his blows. Never had Suzaku fought so hard, and with such abandon, as he fought now.

"There is still a chance, Suzaku!" Tohdoh pleaded. "You can still come home!"

"If I had a chance, Tohdoh-sensei," Suzaku retorted bitterly, "then your revolution stole it from me! As it stole the life of the woman I loved!"

"All Euphemia offered was a pretend independence!" Tohdoh brought down his blade in an overhead Kara Take strike, only to strike one of Lancelot's red MVS. "All she offered was slavery cloaked in gentleness!"

"CHURL!" Suzaku roared, and Tohdoh felt his arms ache as he struggled to fend him off. "She loved every one of you! She loved those who hated her! All she wanted was to make people smile! And you murdered her!"

In his mind's eye, Tohdoh could see the tears in Suzaku's eyes, and the grief that poisoned his soul. He fell back, and raised his sword two-handed before him.

"Japan's people have done much wrong," he said, hardening his heart. "But it is still my beloved homeland, and I would sooner die than see it enslaved and abused again."

"Suzaku Kururugi!" he roared. "If you would deny Japan its freedom, then I will destroy you!"

"And if you would deny Princess Euphemia's dream!" Suzaku shrieked back, "I will destroy you!"

Meanwhile, other battles were raging in the sky. Charlemagne fought Palomedes, the former wielding a blade of shining light. But Aramis Custer's skills were second to none, and the two could find no advantage. A little way away, the Four Holy Swords struggled to contain Tristan and Mordred. Their teamwork was magnificent, their coordination second to none. But they faced two Knights of the Round Table, when together they might equal one. It was Lord Gino Weinberg's task to keep the foursome occupied, and this he did. In the end, they could not stop the Mordred from firing its Hadron cannon.

The great black beam burst forth, lancing across the sky towards the Adler. The energy washed over the glowing barrier, and for an instant it seemed as though they might hold, that the Mordred's frantic effort had been for nothing.

The shields collapsed.

In that very instant, the Britannian floatships reacted, shields flickering off as they fired their missiles. Dozens of white contrails filled the gap as the missiles sped towards their now-defenceless target. The end had come at last.

There was a flash, and the foremost missile detonated. Another flash, and another missile exploded. And another, and another, as the Point-Defence NPBs spat their deadly radiance. So fast were the beams that the missiles could not hope to dodge, vanishing in one explosion after another.

But against so many, and at so short a range, they could not hope to stop them all. Some of them struck, explosions flashing against the golden hull, leaving it scarred and blackened.

But the contestants in front of it did not continue their fight. They all saw that despite this apparent victory, the situation had changed.

For the Ikaruga was moving.

The Ikaruga, 12:18 PM

"Engineering reporting!" Hinata's voice drew Lelouch from his thoughts. "They're good to go!"

"Shields up!" he ordered, determination replacing his fear. "Charge main capacitors! Descend for an underside run on the Formidable! Ask the Adler to concentrate fire of Magnificent!"

"Yes Zero!"

"We've got a chance now!" Lelouch clenched his fists, feeling the thrill of decision.

The Ikaruga turned right as it descended, passing in an arc around the Adler's massive right wing, and the suspension field bearing down beneath it. Above him, the avian shape began to turn, bringing her guns to bear on the Magnificent.

Lelouch took the controls, lifting the Shinkiro off. As he flew away, the Ikaruga's shield glowed pink behind him. He aimed his knightmare down the middle, between the Adler's suspension fields, heading straight for the Magnificent.

His heart pounded. He didn't have much time.

The floatship didn't seem to have noticed him, at least not yet. Willing his hands not to shake, he set the Shinkiro down. Standing atop what remained of a large building, he could see the Magnificent clearly, shields flashing as the Adler's coilguns pounded them.

He activated the Hadron cannon, saw that the capacitor was almost fully charged, and took aim.

Kallen snarled in frustration.

She had come down there with a view to helping out Rolo, but now she was embroiled in a fight with one of the Grausam Valkyries.

Well, it had actually been a Grausam Valkyrie and three Vincent Wards of the Britannian ground contingent, who were attempting to outflank the Black Knights' position. That was why it was taking so long.

Her coilgun was out of ammunition, so she had drawn her MV knife, giving her a little extra in a melee. But the Valkyrie was a skilled pilot, despite being able to pilot a pink knightmare without dying of shame. Like Rolo's her knightmare came with twin MVS, which she wielded with consummate skill.

She was also fierce, her moves aggressive. She came on at Kallen with all her strength, lashing out with her glowing blades. It was all Kallen could do, weary as she was, to hold the Valkyrie back.

The Vincent lunged, blades aimed for either side of her torso. Kallen lashed out with her knife, catching one blade and driving it into the other, knocking them both to the side. The blades slid off her sloped armour, scoring it as they went. She brought up her claw, but the Vincent fell back out of range. She made to attack, but the pink knightmare came on again, this time one sword held in front while the other was aimed to the side. She caught the first thrust on her claw, bringing down her knife to catch the side swing. The Valkyrie bent her elbows, bringing the blades back and around. She struck again, Kallen blocked again.

Kallen felt her muscles aching, but her opponent seemed never to tire. She wondered for a moment if she was smiling in there.

Then the Vincent lurched as something leapt onto its back. The knightmare reared and bucked and threw itself about, trying to dislodge its assailant. Kallen tried to get a fix on the strange black shape, but her Factsphere would not lock on.

Then it was gone, leaping away.

And the Vincent blew apart.

But Kallen did not notice. Her frantic eyes had followed the shape as it landed in the rubble nearby. She could make it out clearly now, standing with its back to her. A human shape, but glossy black all over.

It turned to look at her, and Kallen started at its gaze. Its face was a featureless mask, save for a red chevron visor, not unlike those of the EU knightmares. There was no expression on that face, no eyes through which she could gaze into its soul, but Kallen could not shake the feeling that it was looking into hers.

Then it was gone.

Something moved on her screen, and Kallen saw Shinkiro's icon. She glanced up to see the black and gold knightmare standing on the remains of a department store, staring up at the gleaming white shape of the Magnificent.

And then she saw another shape, much smaller, diving straight at the Shinkiro from the other side.

Gritting her teeth, Kallen thrust back the pedals, pressing her heels down in a long-practice move. The float engines hurled the Guren into the sky, aimed straight for the oncoming enemy.

All thoughts of her mysterious saviour vanished. She had to keep him safe. She had to defend him, even if it was only for a few seconds. If she could just let him get the shot off…

The Palomedes tried to dodge. She compensated, lashing out with the Fukushahado. Palomedes brought up its left arm, the Blaze Luminous catching the blow. He tried to dodge again, but Kallen was too fast, grabbing the red and silver knightmare and flinging it away.

The Shinkiro fired, the searing pink beam cutting through the sky. It struck the Magnificent, white splashing over the emerald of the shields, seeming to blend like paint.

The Magnificent's ivory hull was pocked with explosions as the projectors were overwhelmed. The shields collapsed, and the last of the beam tore into the hull, passing straight through. The Magnificent lurched, smoke pouring from the seared breach, rocking as the Adler's coilguns stabbed at it

Then Kallen was moving again, dodging as the Palomedes came on. She lashed out with her claw, batting the red knightmare away. The Palomedes crashed to the ground, tearing a furrow in the ground as it skidded away. Sensing victory, Kallen pressed back her pedals, lunging the Guren at the stricken Palomedes. The red knightmare drew back its sword hand, as if to hurl its weapon as a final defiance. Kallen braced, ready to dodge.

But Palomedes did not throw the MVS at her.

It threw the blade sideways.

Kallen turned to watch the blade spin through the air. Time seemed to slow down as it spun end over end.

Straight into the Gefjun Disturber.

The Avalon

"The Gefjun field is dissipating!" Cecile shouted out.

"Make contact with our forces as soon as you are able," Schneizel commanded. "Apprise them of our situation."

"Yes, your Highness!" called the comm-officer.

"In the meantime, order all units to concentrate fire on the Adler." Schneizel gave a slight smile. "Lady Earlstreim has cleared the way for us."

"Your Highness…"

The tone of the comm-officer's voice drew the Prince's attention. When he saw the colour of the comm-officer's face, he actually looked surprised.

"What is it?"

"Your Highness," the man forced himself to speak. "There are messages coming in, from all commands. They're…under attack!"

The command went suddenly quiet.

"Put them on the main screen." Schneizel looked up as the comm-officer set frantically to work.

"Prince Schneizel!" A harassed-looking face appeared on the screen. "This is Army Group North command! We're under heavy attack by the EU forces!"

"Impossible!" Kanon blurted out. "His Highness…!" Schneizel silenced him with a raised hand.

"Report, General Saunders."

"They've overrun our positions all along the front!" the face babbled, evidently close to panic. "Their airborne forces have taken Dunkirk, Lille, and Valenciennes! Our forces are cut off!"

"Prince Schneizel!" another face appeared, almost as panic-stricken as the last one. "This is Army Group Central! We've lost Metz and Strasbourg! Enemy forces are concentrating on Montbeliard!"

"Prince Schneizel!" Yet another face. "This is Dijon command! We're under attack!"

"Army Group South reporting! We've lost Nice! Enemy forces approaching Avignon!"

"This is Air Command! Eastern sector air bases not responding!"

"Space Command reporting! Missiles incoming on all sectors!"

"Prince Schneizel! We can't hold them!"

"Your Highness! Requesting immediate orders!"

"Your Highness!"

"Prince Schneizel!"

"Your Highness!"

"Requesting immediate instructions!"

"The shadows! The shadows are…!"

"We need orders!"

The voices blended, babbling and shrieking, the pale faces undulating on the screen. All eyes turned to the Prince.

Schneizel sat where he was, silent and unmoving. It was as if he had retreated into himself. The comm-officer looked to Kanon, but he was too busy watching his Prince, eyes full of fear. He looked to Nina, who was in the midst of a panic attack, then to a bewildered Cecile, then even to Lloyd. The scientist caught his eye, gave the man a knowing look, then drew his finger across his throat. Understanding, the comm-officer shut off the link, silencing the cacophony.

And at that very instant, the Ikaruga opened fire. The black and red beams coalesced as they gushed forth. The Formidable tried to evade, but too late, for the Ikaruga matched its turns, keeping the beam on target. The shields flickered and died, the remainder of the beam pouring through to scorch and melt the beleaguered Formidible.

The beam died, its course run. The wounded Formidible lurched and listed, float engines flickering, smoke pouring from melted rents in the once pristine white hull.

The Adler launched its missiles. With most of its turrets destroyed, the Magnificent had no defence, and no time to manoeuvre.

The missiles struck, tearing and gouging at the stricken Logres, until finally it came apart, vanishing in a ball of light like a new-born sun. Comets of blazing, white-hot wreckage shot away all around it, crashing down into the burning city.

A volley of missiles flew at the Formidible, and might have done likewise were it not for those of its turrets still functional, and frantic efforts by the Avalon. Still some of them hit, and the Formidable was wreathed in smoke and flame. Only by some miracle, and its crew's desperate efforts, did it remain aloft.

In the blink of an eye, all had turned against them.

"Withdraw."

The word was barely audible, but in the silence it was as loud as a thunderclap.

"Your Highness?"

"We will withdraw," Schneizel said more loudly, opening his eyes. "We have lost this battle. Recall all remaining knightmares, and order Formidable to follow on."

The bridge crew set about their tasks, ignoring the despair that hung over them.

"Your Highness!" called the comm-officer. "Communication from Formidable! It's Colonel Stern!"

"On screen!"

Sure enough, on the main screen was the thin face of Colonel Isidor Stern. Blood ran from a wound under his hairline, and the scene behind him was of smoke and chaos.

"Your Highness, we are losing power," he said, his voice hoarse. "You must go on without us."

Silence fell again, as all eyes turned to the Prince.

"Colonel Stern…I cannot just leave you."

"You must!" the Colonel protested. "Your Highness! You must escape!"

"I have failed you, Colonel Stern," Schneizel replied, a strange and sincere anguish in his tone. "I have failed all of you. I cannot leave you to die for my mistakes."

"Your Highness! We understand!" There was something in Isidor Stern's eyes in that instant, something that spoke of a pain beyond measure, and a terrible knowledge of something inescapable agony. "We all understand! That is why we followed you! And that is why you must live on! You are Britannia's last hope! Without you, all is dead!"

"Colonel…"

"You have borne the agony for all our people, my Prince. You have suffered for our sins, and grieved for what must be done. Let us relieve your burden this once, even if we have to die."

Silence.

"Go with honour, Isidor Stern," Schneizel whispered. "Your name shall live forevermore."

"Thank you, your Highness." Stern bowed his head, and the screen winked out.

On the ground, Kallen stood over the fallen Palomedes, Fukushahado aimed at its pitted and gouged torso.

"Finish it," came a hoarse voice from the Palomedes. "It is…a fair kill."

For a moment Kallen did nothing, staring down at the fallen knight.

"No" she said, lowering her claw. "I'm not a murderer, and neither are you." She extended Guren's left hand. "On your feet. You're my prisoner, and your frame is my trophy."

The Palomedes did nothing for a few moments, then, rather gingery, took Guren's hand, allowing itself to be pulled upright.

A shadow fell across them. Instinct kicked in, and Kallen flung her knightmare back. The Percival slammed into the ground where she had been standing, throwing up a cloud of dust.

"I didn't waste my time when I came here!" hooted Luciano Bradley, as the Percival stood up. "Stand back Custard! This one's mine!"

"Monster!" Kallen thrust her Fukushahado forward, talons hooking for Percival's plastron. Percival darted, quick as lightning, thrusting its shield straight at the Fukushahado and lashing out with the quad-claw. Kallen brought up her left arm in a desperate parry, the purple blades gouging through the crimson armour. The arm dropped limp in a shower of sparks. Kallen activated the Fukushahado, the deadly microwaves warping the shield.

Percival dropped back, releasing the shield, the purple claws sliding into position and spinning. Before Kallen could react, the Particle Drill Lance burrowed into Guren's plastron. It was all Kallen could do to break sideways, the glowing drill missing the yggdrasil drive by the tiniest fraction. Guren lurched backwards, sliding off the drill and collapsing to the ground.

Kallen shrieked in fear and frustration, jabbing frantically at her console. But nothing was working. The yggdrasil drive was intact, but the energizer directly below it had been totalled, along with the power couplings to the legs. Her Guren was crippled.

"Now, Crimson Princess," Bradley oiled, relishing the nickname she hated. "The coup-de-grace!"

Kallen felt her stomach clench as the Percival raised a clawed hand to strike. She had always known that she might die, that such was the fate of soldiers. But there and then, with that smirking beast gloating over her, she realised that she didn't want to die.

"Lelouch," she thought, his face drifting into her mind's eyes, soothing her.

"No!"

The voice cut through her despair. She blinked, wondering who had spoken. She glanced at her comm interface, and realised it was still on.

"What!" Bradley snapped, turning to see Palomedes standing behind him.

"Don't kill her!" Aramis ordered. "She is defenceless!"

"She's an Eleven!" Bradley sneered. "And an enemy! She's my kill!"

"She spared my life! We owe her honour and mercy!"

"Why? Did she spare you because she found you so pitiful!" Bradley turned away from Custer in disgust, readying for the kill. "Spout your chivalric nonsense somewhere else!"

"No Bradley!" Kallen's mouth dropped open as Palomedes grabbed Percival, staying its hand. "This is an act of murder!"

"Murder!" Bradley roared. "This is an act of murder!" In a flash he spun around, driving his spinning claws into Palomedes' chest. Kallen heard herself scream as the armoured plastron crumpled, the drill wrenching its way through. Palomedes shuddered, slumped, and fell to the ground.

"Poor Custard," Bradley said airily. "But he got his wish in the end. He died with honour, the morbid fool."

"You monster!" Kallen shrieked, wrenching at the dead controls in a fit of rage.

"Monster?" Bradley feigned offence. "I am merely the truth of battle, Crimson Princess." He paused a moment. Kallen could not have known it, but his Energy Filler was dangerously low. Without another word he lifted off, his two surviving Valkyries falling in beside him.

"Kallen!" Rolo's voice cut through her rage. "Kallen!"

"Rolo!" Kallen saw the red and gold face of Rolo's Vincent looking down at her. "Where's Lelouch!"

"It's okay, the others are taking him back!" Kallen felt a shudder as the Vincent put its hands under Guren's armpits, pulling the stricken knightmare up. "He said to come get you."

Kallen could not bring herself to say anything. She merely slumped, physically and emotionally exhausted, as Rolo bore her to safety.

Magnus watched in grim satisfaction as the Adler's guns blazed at the crippled Formidable. The mighty bird was scorched and blackened, but her first battle had been an undeniable victory. Were it not for the Mordred, she could have taken the Britannians on her own. So his pride told him.

A strange feeling, but a pleasant one. To feel that his work had served some greater purpose, that he had contributed, however insignificantly, to eventual victory.

"Adler to Hyperion." The familiar voice of Ichijo Morisato drew him from his thoughts. "Britannian ground forces are falling back. Shall we deploy the Gamelons?"

"Deploy them, Lieutenant Colonel," he replied, excitement cutting through his tiredness. "Run them down. Don't let them consolidate."

"Yes Colonel!"

He watched as tiny shapes dropped from the Adler's underside hatches. They screamed as they moved, tiny darts whistling through the sky, dropping down upon the already suffering Britannians.

The Gamelon jetbike was the product of a warped imagination, a bizarre outgrowth of contemporary knightmare technology. It was in essence little more than a giant float engine, fitted with armour and weapons, straddled by a single rider. Its pilots were daredevils, maniacs one and all, men and women for whom death was something that happened to other people.

They came on, engines howling, slipstream whistling around them. Britannian soldiers looked up and saw them, long and narrow, short wings fanning out at the rear. They raced down the ruined streets, machine guns chattering, bullets churning up the rubble, gunning down soldiers caught in the open. The Britannians returned fire, but the jetbikes were too fast, gone before they could get a fix on them. Some of them fired Mercury MANPADS at the knightmares, the missiles swift and agile, blasting apart the Gloucesters and Vincent Wards even as they tried to dodge. A few hunted the Britannian tanks, releasing Mjolnir ATGMs against them.

But their true weapon was not their firepower. It was their presence, the sheer disruption they caused. Britannian soldiers and knightmares, trying in desperation to bring them down, did not notice the enemy soldiers, knightmares, and vehicles swarming over and around the rubble towards them. Leaving the exhausted Black Knights safe behind them, the JL Brigade advanced.

Suzaku glanced frantically here and there, ignoring the babbling voices on the comm, and the increasingly insistent recall signal.

Aramis Custer was down. His friend, his oath-brother, was in danger.

He looked down another street, this one parallel to the square in which the Black Knights had positioned the Gefjun Interdictor, the buildings separating them having been flattened in the fighting.

There, lying broken on the cratered street, was Palomedes.

"Lord Custer!" he yelled over the loudspeaker, racing to his friend's side. He knelt the Lancelot and tore the fallen knightmare's cockpit open. Aramis looked up at him, face pale, blood bright on his chest.

Suzaku snatched at his key and hit the door control. Not waiting for the cable, he leapt from his seat as it emerged, dropping onto Lancelot's shoulder, then to its knee, ignoring the jarring in his legs.

"Lord Custer!"

"Sir Suzaku," Aramis' voice was hoarse. "You must…leave me. It's too late."

"Who did this!" Suzaku demanded, feeling tears prick his eyes. "Did she do this!"

"No," Aramis coughed, blood bubbling over his lips. "It was…Bradley."

"Bradley?" Suzaku felt his blood run cold. "But…"

"Sir Suzaku, I have seen…a doom, upon us all." Aramis' eyes gleamed. "Darkness is upon me…and upon Britannia…I have seen it."

"Aramis…"

"Sir Suzaku…" Aramis held out a trembling hand. Suzaku grasped it, as if doing so might keep him alive, though he knew that nothing could save him now.

"Don't…let Bradley win…Sir Suzaku." His voice was barely audible, his breathing shallower and shallower. "Don't let the monsters…win."

The gleam faded from his eyes.

Suzaku lifted his friend's body from the cockpit, took a moment to wrap the blue cloak of the Knight of Seven around it, then laid it on Lancelot's open hand. As the knightmare lifted off, a volley of shots from the VARIS blew the Palomedes into a shower of scrap metal. The EU would find no treasure there.

This last favour done, Suzaku turned to the retreating Avalon, and bore his friend's body safe away.

To his right, the Formidable exploded.

Brussels National Airport, 14:30 PM

The airport was the only part of the city with enough room for both the Adler and the Ikaruga to land.

Just over ten kilometres northeast of Brussels, the airport was designed to deal with both zeppelins and regular aircraft. It also contained plenty of open space, against the possibility of crash landings.

The Adler was parked in that open space. It sat on its enormous feet, wings lowered for balance, seeming to loom over everything. Behind it, to the south east, a pall of grey smoke hung over Brussels, testimony to the destruction wrought there.

The Ikaruga sat further in, close to one of the terminal buildings. Zero stood at the foot of the exit ramp, flanked by his chief followers, as an Airport Security car approached. As the car pulled up, two figures climbed out. One was blatantly Magnus Constantian, his white hair and pasty complexion a dead giveaway. The other was an older man, clad in a business suit, with hair that was greying and slightly wavy.

"Foreign Minister Gandolfy," Zero greeted the man, bowing his head. "I am grateful that you would speak with me at such short notice."

"Short notice indeed." Gandolfy spoke to him in English, with a slight Italian accent, his manner revealing little of his true feelings.

"And, Colonel Constantian." Zero faltered, struggling with his remorse. "I…I can only apologise for what was done to you. I had no desire to betray you to Dressler, but nor did I have any choice." He bowed his head.

For a time, Magnus did not reply. His face was expressionless, but only by dint of great effort. Inside him terrible, unfamiliar emotions roiled like a storm-wracked sea. He felt anger at Zero, a sense of having been violated. He felt a desire to violate Zero in return, to attack him, to strangle the life out of him, to destroy him.

Destroy the threat.

Zero had marked him, crippled him. Zero had inflicted that mental command on him, preventing him from using Quiescence, forcing him to endure those feelings.

He did not like those feelings. They were a dark presence, a canker in his being, undermining his reason, railing against his will.

He had seen this before. He had seen it again, sealed in his quarters aboard the Adler, his mind overwhelmed by unleashed emotion. He remembered his most distant childhood, in the sterile darkness of a Juvenile Care Facility.

Darkness, the lights flickering.

Grown-ups walk in the corridors, their faces washed-out, expressionless

A keening cry, from somewhere unseen.

Toys, brittle, broken, the paint flaking off.

The smell of urine.

Smiling men. Smiling women. Leading by the hand.

"You're a clever boy, and clever boys don't belong in that place."

He remembered his time at the Colasour Institute, where everything was bright and clean, full of children who talked and laughed and played.

And argued and lied and fought and screamed and cried.

Smiling face. Happy face.

"Come and play!"

Soft hand, warm hand. Take my hand, follow on.

"Everyone! I brought Magnus! Now we've got enough!"

Wide eyes. Staring eyes.

"He looks funny."

"He's white all over."

"SHHH! Don't say that! It's dis-grim-shun!"

"What's dis-grim-shun?"

"I don't know but Mama said we mustn't"

Emotions were bad. The smiling men had told him so. They had told him so when they gave him his medicine, and told him how to take it. They had warned him of how emotions would deny his reason, driving him to do things he should not do. People lied to each other, hurt each other, killed each other, because they could not control their emotions.

His studies had confirmed the truth of it. Countless lives destroyed, a continent in flames, all because of human emotions.

Emotions that drove him to destroy the man in front of him. Emotions that Zero had forced him to feel. To destroy Zero in rage, in revenge, was to hand him his final victory, even if in death.

And what other harm might it do? What might he wreak, what might he undo, for the sake of a moment's satisfaction?

"There is no point in my holding a grudge, Zero."

Slowly, tentatively, both men held out their hands. They clasped, shook, and all assembled breathed a sigh of relief.

"Also, I wanted to congratulate you on the success of Operation Halo Dawn," Zero went on, relishing what he was about to relate. "I received word just as we were landing. Your forces have taken Dijon, Amiens and Rheims."

In truth, Gandolfy and Magnus had received reports too, at about the same time. The air commands claimed to have achieved supremacy over northern and eastern France. The few Britannian fighters to make it airborne were fighting hard, but were being worn down, and their remaining bases were imperilled, either by missiles or advancing ground forces. To the north, the Britannians had been split by three salients, and General Forstchen had been killed. To the south, French, Italian, and Austro-Hungarian mountain troops had secured the Alpine passes and tunnels, allowing regular units to pass through.

The British, Dutch, Danish, Free French, and Free Spanish fleets were engaging the Britannian Carrier-Battlegroups in the Atlantic and the Bay of Biscay, supported by land-based fighter-bombers launched from Britain. With the land-based Britannian fighters struggling for their lives, the supersonic bombers based in Scotland and Iceland were also free to join the battle. The Greek and Italian fleets, along with aircraft and missiles based in Italy, Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica, were turning the Western Mediterranean into a shooting gallery, with the Turkish fleet moving up in support. The Eastern front was also going according to plan, the Free Russian forces aiming straight for Saint Petersburg, the Polish and Ukrainian forces advancing in concert to the south.

So long as the Britannians didn't pull something out of a hat, there might just be a victory.

"Colonel Constantian has certainly proved his worth," he said conversationally. "With any luck, we'll have them out of western Europe within the next few weeks." He narrowed his eyes. "That was your intent, wasn't it?"

"In part, Minister."

"What do you want, Zero? Putting aside personal desires, what does the Lord Regent of Japan desire?"

"Cooperation," Zero replied, with minimal hesitation. "A military alliance for the purpose of defeating Britannia and establishing peace in the world. I also want an end to your pointless hostilities with the Chinese Empire, with negotiations to be held as soon as practicable. In the meantime, we need the EU to provide us with aid in the form of weapons and humanitarian supplies."

"Hmm," Gandolfy mused. "An alliance goes without saying at this point, and the pointless hostilities as you describe them aren't all that deep-rooted. But what sort of weapons did you have in mind?"

"We have an extensive list. But we primarily require defensive systems, namely theatre SAMs, anti-ship missiles, radar, and C4C equipment."

"That could be difficult." Gandolfy gave Zero a dubious look. "The War Council won't take kindly to requests for charity, not of our latest military technology and not now."

"No charity will be necessary!" Zero proclaimed, raising his voice so as to be certain that all could hear him. "What is your largest ship capable of carrying sakuradite?"

"If I recall correctly, the Skaggerak at 160,000 tons."

"Send her to us, and we will fill her, free of charge." Zero lowered his tone, suddenly serious. "This I offer, in expiation for the wrongs we have done here."

There was silence for a time.

"A fine gesture," Gandolfy said eventually. "But you do not need to worry about your image in Europe. Anyone watching the news broadcasts now will see your Black Knights protecting helpless civilians from the depredations of murderous Britannians. I must say you could not have done better if you'd planned it." The Minister cocked a questioning eyebrow. "Or did you?"

"No!" Zero blurted out, causing a ruffle of uncertainty among those watching. Gandolfy's eyebrow rose a little higher.

"I mean to say," Zero regained his poise. "I had no desire to harm the innocent."

"I'm sure you did not, your Excellency. Incidentally, Ambassador Daidouji and his wife are waiting in the Terminal. They seem to think you have their daughter. Do you?"

"I must confess that I do, Minister." Zero sounded sheepish. "Her Ladyship was kind enough to assist me in the rescue of Prince Faramond."

"Then be so kind as to send them both out." Gandolfy was suddenly serious. "I wish to see them."

A quick command sent Rolo dashing up the ramp. He returned a few moments later, accompanied by the requested pair. The assembled Black Knights parted to let them pass, Faramond and Tomoyo advancing hand-in-hand, as if entering the Imperial Court. So dignified were they, that some of their erstwhile captors saluted or bowed in reflex.

"Your Highness, Your Ladyship." Gandolfy bowed low. "I am most relieved to see you both alive and unharmed." Magnus snapped off a salute.

"I thank you Minister," Faramond replied. Behind his mask, Lelouch could only stare in disbelief. This was not the pathologically shy nephew he had known only a few hours earlier.

Was it because of her?

"I was hoping that his Excellency would permit me to speak with my parents," Tomoyo spoke up, her voice high and clear. "I'm sure they have misunderstood the situation."

"I'm sure they have, your Ladyship." Gandolfy shot Zero a dubious glance. "If you please, your Excellency."

With a pounding heart, Zero allowed himself to be escorted to the Terminal building. With Kallen at his side, he strode through the open door into one of the ground floor departure lounges. The only occupants were Ambassador Masakado Daidouji and his wife, Sonomi Daidouji. The Ambassador's face was expressionless, while his wife's was a picture of barely-contained fury.

"Ambassador, Madame," Zero bowed. "I am relieved that you are both unhurt."

"Let's cut to the chase," Sonomi snapped, before her husband could open his mouth. "What have you done with my daughter?"

"Madame, your daughter is entirely safe." Zero tried not to appear half as intimidated as he felt.

"So you say!" Sonomi's eyes flashed, fixing him with a gaze that could have reduced grown men to gibbering wrecks. "Yet you forced her to take part in your kidnapping of Prince Faramond, and exposed her to further danger by keeping her on your ship! What have you to say to that!"

"Ambassador, Madam," Zero sighed. "I can only offer you my word that I meant your daughter no harm. I involved her because she alone could help me."

"And what is the value of your word!" Sonomi's countenance shifted back to anger. "You came here to seek our cooperation, and you kidnapped our daughter! Are we to trust you after such a deed!"

"It's the least you can do!" Kallen snapped. "After everything he's done for all of us!"

There was a frigid silence. Sonomi turned her gaze upon Kallen, who did not flinch.

"And what," she said, her tone as cold as the grave, "do you mean by that?"

"I mean," Kallen barked, "while you people were living it up here in Europe, we were fighting and starving and dying!"

"Fighting and starving and dying?" Sonomi mocked. "You? Kallen Stadtfeld? You who went home to your Britannian father and his comfortable home after every mission? You, young lady, are a hypocrite!"

"Maybe I am!" Kallen shrieked, enraged that Sonomi would mention the double life that caused her such anguish. "But the biggest hypocrite in here is you!"

"Kallen please!" Zero pleaded.

"No Zero! I'm not going to stand here and let her talk about you that way!" She turned her gaze back to Sonomi, eyes blazing.

"Oh yes," she hissed. "We know. We know what you did. We know about Angelic Layer."

Masakado glanced at his wife, whose face had turned the colour of porcelain.

"You see, I know a few things about knightmares," Kallen explained. "I saw the way the EU's new knightmares performed, and I wondered how they could be so damn fast. Their reaction speeds were a lot higher than they should be. Britannia does it by packing neat sakuradite in there, but we all know the EU would never do that. So, the only answer was a new and more efficient control mechanism." Kallen smirked. "I'm sure you can fill in the rest."

A nerve in Sonomi's cheek twitched.

"I had no choice," she said.

"Didn't you?" Kallen sounded dubious.

"The Militarization Initiative was to include my company and its subsidiaries" Sonomi snarled. "My factories, that now make toys, would have been turned over to making weapons!"

"Weapons to fight Britannia!" Kallen retorted.

"Don't try that on with me!" Sonomi's eyes blazed. "I've lost more to Britannia than you could possibly realise! But my company is my life's work, and my only legacy."

"So?"

"I threatened to fight them in the courts, but they wouldn't back down. Then EUROFORCE came to me with a suggestion. They offered to obtain an exemption for my company in return for full disclosure of the Angelic Layer technology. At the time I saw no other option, so I acquiesced, and they kept their word."

"Really," Kallen drawled. "So to keep your hands clean you turned a children's toy into a control system for knightmares. Pretty neat."

"Technology is merely knowledge!" Sonomi retorted. "And knowledge by its very nature cannot be controlled! It was going to happen sooner or later!"

"Okaa-sama!"

All eyes turned to the main door, where Tomoyo Daidouji stood. Her doll-like face wore a look of shocked concern.

"T…Tomoyo…" The colour drained from Sonomi's face. "I…"

"Okaa-sama," Tomoyo strode over to Sonomi. Zero and Kallen both tensed, fearing what was to come.

Instead, Tomoyo embraced her.

"Okaa-sama, don't blame yourself," Tomoyo soothed. "I never did."

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew," Tomoyo looked her mother in the eyes and smiled. "I saw what that decision was doing to you, and to Otou-sama. I could never blame you for it, not for trying to protect me."

"Tomoyo…" Sonomi breathed, overcome.

"Madam," Zero managed to speak. "I was not my intent to condemn you or your husband." He managed a smile. "You may despise yourself madam, but in time, they will call you one of the saviours of Europe."

"Despise myself?" Sonomi laughed ruefully. "I cannot admit to that. In truth, I'm almost proud of it."

"You are?" Kallen cocked an eyebrow.

"Britannia keeps boasting that technology made for war is better than technology made for peace," Sonomi explained. "Angelic Layer was made as a toy, nothing more, yet it became a technology that Britannia cannot match." She gave Zero a meaningful look.

"If you mean to expose me, then go ahead. Vindication shall be my comfort."

"I will not expose you, Madam," Zero replied, with all sincerity. "I cannot, not after all that I have done."

"Very well." Masakado eyed him. "What will you do now, Zero?"

"I will return to Japan, just as soon as the Ikaruga has been repaired and restocked." Zero paused for a moment, readying the bombshell.

"Also, I would like it if Tomoyo-oujo-sama would accompany us."

"Oh would you?" Sonomi shot him a humourless smile, arms around her daughter. "No chance."

"Okaa-sama," Tomoyo interjected. "I want to go." Sonomi stared at her in disbelief.

"But…"

"Okaa-sama, I helped his Excellency because I wanted to." She paused, blushing. "I wanted to see Faramond again." She looked up at her father.

"Otou-sama, I want to go, because I want to see Japan, and I want to help you properly."

"It may be dangerous, Tomoyo," Masakado replied sternly. "Are you certain?"

"Don't worry Otou-sama," Tomoyo beamed. "I'll sing for you again on a happier day."

"A code," Zero thought. "But what does it mean?"

In a place unknown…

It was a city in a cavern.

The buildings were tall and oblong, cut from the living rock. Most covered the floor; others perched on the walls, as if having sprouted from them like creepers. At the centre of the floor was an open space, surrounded by pillars that curved inward and up towards a massive stalagmite, from which similar pillars hung down. It glowed an eerie purple in the stygian darkness, bathing the metropolis in a weird, unnatural light.

Looking down upon the city was what appeared to be young boy. His hair was pale gold, cascading down past his feet to pool on the floor behind him. His eyes were an otherworldly purple, not unlike that of the light illuminating the city. There was a mild, indulgent smile on his face.

"I have called you here to give you your orders," he said in a child's voice, addressing the four women behind him, all clad in the uniforms of the Geass Directorate. "Schneizel has managed to screw up his mission, and the EU and Britannia are once again at war."

"Might it be a problem, Director VV?" asked one of the women, the tall one with the long black hair and the piercing eyes.

"Not really, Sancia." VV turned to face them, regarding them for a moment. He cast his eyes over the shorter pair, one with pale skin and long hair, the other darker-skinned with short hair, and then the taller pair, consisting of Sancia and…that one.

"The EU are a bunch of blind materialists." VV sounded almost sympathetic. "So jaded by the lies of this world that they cannot conceive of anything beyond what they can see and touch. Of all of them, only the Furiae and their King are a threat. But for now," his eyes sparkled, "they have plenty to do."

"Of course, Director," Sancia smiled. "They are mindless killers, after all."

"One issue has arisen though," he kept his eyes on her, the one on the end, with the black hair cut very short. "He has also managed to lose Faramond to Zero." The woman's face did not move, but VV noted the flicker in her eyes with satisfaction.

"You want us to get him back?" Sancia asked.

"Precisely. You'll leave tomorrow, with one of our new operatives. Just to be blunt, I want Faramond alive…and unsullied."

"Director, what of Zero? If we simply take Faramond from him, he will come after us. We should use the opportunity to destroy him too."

"No, Sancia." VV smirked. "He has much still to do. Besides, if he were to come after us, CC would almost certainly be with him. We can't miss a chance like that."

"You are certain, Director?"

"CC knows more about us than anyone outside of our ranks. He cannot attack us, or even find us, without her help."

"As you say, Director. Incidentally, how is the Maiden?"

"She's…coping," VV smiled at the mention. "The children adore her, and she seems to find them a comfort. But it won't do to keep her cooped up here much longer. She needs to serve her purpose."

"Will it be much longer, Director?"

"Not much longer," VV assured them. "That will be all." They bowed, and left the chamber.

"It is not necessary for them to accompany me, Lord VV," came a slightly petulant voice from the shadows.

"I disagree," VV replied, quite unperturbed. "She will be especially useful. She can sense any Geass, while you may cancel any Geass."

"By the power you gave me, Lord VV." The figure that stepped into the light was a tall, lean young man. He was dressed in the manner of a Britannian aristocrat, with a knee-length white coat edged in gold covering a maroon shirt and white trousers. A lilac cravat hung at his throat. His face had a tapering chin, and was topped with blue-green hair parted on the right. The left eye was a milky white lens, set into a faceplate the colour of burnished copper, fashioned like a bird's spread wing, the narrow leg and hooked talons curving down to his cheekbone. The right eye was of the same colour, staring out from under a narrow eyebrow. There was madness in that eye, a madness that VV knew well.

"So don't let it bother you, okay?"

"I won't, Lord VV," the man smiled a very wide and disconcerting smile.

"I, Jeremiah Gottwald, will fulfil your expectations."

That was a very long chapter. I only hope its enough to make up for the delay.

Regarding my poll, I've decided to continue with this fic for the time being. I won't be in a position to plan the rewrite until I've seen the new Gaiden, which will hopefully include lots of canon info on the EU. In the meantime, I hope you'll forgive me letting my imagination run wild with the EU mecha. I had a lot of fun, and thought the EU deserved its own selection.

I should probably explain the Angelic Layer connection. In CLAMP's anime and manga Angelic Layer, the players control small dolls via headsets that read and interpret their thoughts, moving the dolls on an arena dubbed a 'layer' hence the title. I reckoned that if they could make Barbie or Action Man-sized dolls move by such means, then it shouldn't be so hard to drive a vehicle that way. The difficulty with the game itself is that the player's thoughts have to be remotely transmitted to the Angel while it is on the layer, in a manner that allows it to move freely. This would not be an issue for a direct connection to a vehicle the wearer already occupies.

I will also point out that I did not stoop so low as to lift the game's backstory from Angelic Layer itself. In that case, the game was originally developed as prosthetic for multiple sclerosis suffers, being turned into a game as a source of research funds. For this fanfic, Angelic Layer was developed purely as a toy.

And yes, Orange is in the house, at long last.