Hey readers!

I'll keep the introduction short for this chapter. I had to get my 12 year old dog euthanized last week. Hopefully, writing will keep my mind off it a little.

I don't own Code Geass. Maybe one day, when Sunrise has milked the franchise for all it's worth, they'll throw it's dried up carcass my way.

Now, to the Chapter! Read on!


Early morning of July 10th, 2017 A.T.B., European Union, Austria, Vienna.

(Dialogue in this scene is in French.)

Lieutenant-General Eugene Smilas, or Gene Smilas as most called him, was a tall man in his mid-forties, with grayish-green hair and green eyes. He was currently sitting in the back of a limo, which was taking him to meet with the E.U. minister of Defense. Gene had taken an overnight flight from Amsterdam especially for this.

The vehicle soon pulled up in front of the old Ministerial building, where a couple of staffers where waiting for him. They escorted him to the Minister's office.

Ferdinand Stauffenberg, E.U. minister of Defense for the past two years, was sitting behind his desk. He was a man of medium-height, he had blue eyes and black hair, and he was wearing a rather plain grey business suit.

"Lieutenant-General Eugene Smilas, sir, reporting as requested." The man said, saluting.

"Yes." Ferdinand said. "I'm glad you where able to make it, General. I'm to fly to Geneva in a couple hours."

"I understand, sir." Smilas nodded.

"We're both busy men, so I'll get right to the issue." Ferdinand said. "The Union Council has sanctioned the creation of a Trans-National army unit. I have called you all the way here because I hope you'll take command of this newly created force."

"…I see." Smilas said slowly.

"I know it's sudden, but I believe you are the right man for the job, general. We're fighting Britannia on two fronts, and this situation is likely to get worst. It's still a far cry from a full-fledged central EU armed force, but it's a start."

"I understand, but I have to ask, why me, sir?"

Ferdinand smiled. "For several reasons, but there is a bout three main ones. Firstly because the Netherland HQ didn't oppose the idea of your transfer."

Indeed, after Switzerland, the Netherlands had the highest ratio of officers in their armed forces.

"Secondly, you were one of the strongest voices clamoring for such a unified force, but unlike most of the others, you seemed to do so not because of the politics involved, but despite them. And thirdly, you got a good, sensible head on these shoulders of yours. You understand that it's not the time to be boggled down by petty differences and unfounded prejudices, and that fear of the hypothetic rise of a second Napoleon Bonaparte has only kept us divided and, ultimately, weaker. The lessons of the Great War have not been learned. The very survival of the E.U. is at stake here. So, do you accept my offer, General?"

Smilas stood there in silence for a moment, apparently thinking. Then he nodded.

"If this will help in defending ourselves, then yes, I will accept."

"Splendid!" Ferdinand said. "I have prepared a selection of personnel from which you can choose your officer core." The minister handed Smilas a large folder. "Ho, and also, you'll be getting a promotion with your new command. I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you, sir."


As Ferdinand watched the general's limo leaving, taking Smilas to his new HQ, he sighed.

"These are some dark time we live in." He thought, and looked up. "Valentinnian. Sometimes, I'm seriously thinking about what you said last time we met." He returned to his seat, and sighed. "Would the world really have been a better place now, if Phillip zi Britannia* had not died, some fifty years ago?"


Meanwhile, from the back of the limo, General Smilas was perusing the folder Ferdinand had given him.

"I've got some interesting characters in there, that's for sure." He thought. "A large number of the fighting force is to be made up of former Japanese, like this fellow." He looked at an information sheet which described a young man by the name of Akito Hyuga**, who by his picture had blue hair and eyes. "Then, we have this." He looked at another information sheet, which showed a young female adjutant this time. Her name was Reila Malkal***, and she had light yellow hair and light purple eyes. What made her stand out, however, was the fact that she came from a family that used to be Britannian nobility.

"Well," He muttered to himself. "This is going to be interesting."


Early morning, July 14th, Pacific Ocean, about a mile off the shore of Area 11, 300 Kilometers South East of Tokyo.

As he walked the corridors of their newly acquired cargo sub, Fidel Castro was humming an appropriate song.

"We're all livin' in a yellow submarine. Yellow submarine. Yellow submarine!"

It was a single from an obscure, little know band from England that had died off a couple years ago. Fidel could never remember the name. What was it again, the Cockroaches?

Anyway, Fidel was currently making his way to the bridge of the Deep Sea Banana. (A name the Castros came up with because they couldn't pronounce the sub's Indian name. Hey, it's not like it's ever going to show up on any official document.)

When he eventually got there, he found it a hive of activity. A silent hive of activity, that is. It was to be expected, this deep into Britannian territory. Thankfully, the prototype stealth system that equipped the giant sub seemed to be working. Fidel walked to where their Indian skipper, captain Baska, was looking into his periscope.

"How long until we reach the rendezvous point, captain?" Fidel whispered.

"Two to three minutes, Mr. Castro." The man said in heavily accented English.

"Good." Fidel said. "Setting foot on land again will do me some good."


As Captain Baska said, it didn't take long before they reached the rendezvous point. There, they sent a shutter box signal into the early morning darkness. After a few agonizing seconds, they received a confirmation signal from somewhere in the rocky cliff side. The submarine then slowly made its way through an underwater gate, before surfacing up into an underground dock. It was barely big enough to accommodate the Banana. On one side of the docks, a large group of Elevens was waiting for them. There was a couple of guys in suits and sunglasses, a few armed guards, but most of them were obviously simple workers.

As the captain and the Castro brothers came out of a side hatch to meet with their "welcoming party", Fidel looked up at the structure they were in. It was definitely old: there where large cracks in the walls and ceiling, with whole chunks of concrete missing at places, and there probably wasn't a single square inch of the steel framework that wasn't covered with rust.

"You'd think they could afford a couple hundred gallons of paint at the very least." Fidel whispered to Ramon with no true effort not to be heard by their clients.

"I'm sure a man like you knows that sometimes, money can't solve everything, Mr. Castro." One of the men in suits said in perfect English.

"Yes, sometimes it can't." Fidel said as they stepped on the dock proper. "But it would sure help my confidence if the place looked a bit more…structurally sound. Especially if those big containers over yonder hold what I think they do."

"I assure you, the entire complex has been inspected, and I have been assured there is no present threat of it collapsing." The man extended his hand to Fidel, who shook it. "I would introduce myself, but the circumstances require that we remain anonymous. I hope you understand."

"Ho, you bet, sir." Fidel said with a large smile. "Wouldn't want us ratting you guys out if we were ever captured by the brits, huh?"

"Exactly. Now, before we hand over your 'payment', may we inspect the merchandise?"

"What do you think?" Fidel said to Ramon.

"It alright with me, as long as we get to do the same with the 'payment'" Ramon said.

"I suppose that's only fair." The man said. "I'll have the men escort one of yours, then. I trust you have the proper scanning equipment?"

Captain Baska nodded, and one of the men accompanying him and the Castros stepped up, a compact, rectangular scanner in hand. While the cargo-bay door on their side of the submarine opened, and the man-in-black who greeted them followed Ramon inside the vessel to go inspect their swag, the man with the scanner was escorted to the containers by the other suit wearing man, a few armed guards, and Fidel.

"I'm curious to see how it's done." He said to the others, who just shrugged.

Once they got to the large rectangular containers, the Indian technician immediately turned his device on and went to work. As he pointed his device towards the first container, the screen, which had been a dark blue, flared up with bright greens. Apparently, that was good. They got the same results for the three next containers, at which point Fidel asked a question.

"If these crates are made to contain the radiations, what does your hardware picks up, exactly?" He asked the technician.

"Well, it picks up the very specific energy signature of the Sakuradite, which can be detected throught, the shielded containers."

"Can't that be faked, or duplicated?" Fidel prodded further. Hey, if he was going to transport this stuff, it couldn't hurt to be informed.

"Not that we know of." The technician said, then proceeded to inspect the next two containers, whom also checked out.

"Alright, then." Fidel said to the man in the suit. "We'll unload your goodies, then you guys will be able to load these on our ship."

And that's what was done. After the Knightmare parts had been unloaded, the Eleven workers began to load the large containers aboard the Banana, being careful to be extra gentle.

"Treat these crates with more care than you would your own newborn child!" their foreman yelled. "This stuff is much more fragile, and whole lot more dangerous if you make it unhappy!"

"Well," Ramon said as the last container entered the cargo bay, "All that's left to do, if to get this stuff back to India, and then get paid."

"Yeah." Fidel said. "Easier said than done."

True. Untreated sakuradite was extremely volatile, and they couldn't afford to even get detected by anybody hostile. Trying to make a run for it while transporting this stuff would be like running away from a raging bull while holding a jug of Nitroglycerin.

"Well then, we'll be off." Fidel told the men-in-suits, but as he was heading onto the gangplank, he stopped. "Ho, I almost forgot." He said. "Ramon! Do you have the disk?"

"Ha, that."Ramon said, and reached into vest. "Yes, I have it here." He produced a small data disk, and handed it to Fidel, who handed it to their hosts.

"On this disk is what you could call a preview of some "goods" we hope be able to supply you guys with in the near future. I'm sure you guys will like it." Fidel said, then hopped onto the gangplank. As they made their way into the ship, he waved at them. "Take care, now!"


Later that night, undisclosed location in Kyoto.

"So." Taizô Kirihara said. "It would seem our deal with Maharaja was a worthwhile one to pursue."

The others in the room, four men all well over fifty, nodded. They had just finished browsing the contents of the disk Kirihara's man had given them.

"The parts they supplied us with should greatly speed up the completion of the Burais." One of them said. This was Hidenobu Kubouin, who was a thin man with a small beard and long hair held in a ponytail.

"Not a moment too soon." Tatsunori Osakabe said. He was a large, broad shouldered man with short hair and sideburns. "The JDF is practically on its deathbed. Plus, if the rumors about Clovis are true, smuggling equipment into the Archipelago will could very well become more complicated soon."

"You mean the rumors about him being called back to the Homeland?" Tousai Munakata said. He was a large man with straight up short hair and a large beard.

"Yes." Tatsunori responded, nodding.

"I've heard them too." Hidenobu said, "They say his 'management skills' have been found lacking. Not that I want to defend the brat, but having him has Viceroy was a boon for us."

"If Clovis does get recalled, it is likely that whoever take his place will prove harder to deal with." Tatsunori said. "It may be best if we start cutting loose ends and covering our tracks right now."

"Let's not be hasty here." Tousai said. "We don't know if there is any truth in this at all."

"It's true." Kirihara said. "I've been approached by Clovis' advisors on the matter. We talked specifically about insuring a 'proper transition' from Clovis to his successors."

"This is the first I've heard about that." Tousai said. "I wasn't contacted."

"Me neither." Hidenobu said. "Not yet at least, but I wouldn't be surprised if they only talked with Kirihara. We all know where the Britannian's priorities are when it comes to our country after all."

"So we're afterthoughts." Tatsunori said. "What else is new?" He turned to Kirihara. "Do you at least know who the successor is going to be, Taizô-san?"

"They didn't tell me." Kirihara said. "But I have a strong suspicion on who it might be."


July 19th, 2017 A.T.B., Area 11, Tokyo Settlement, Lamperouge Manor.

Seeing as it was a hot and sunny day, Rolo and Nunnally had decided to invite the student council for a little pool party at their home. The students gladly obliged, since they hadn't got to see the twins much since summer vacation had started.

"It's strange," Rivalz said as he and the others entered the main hall of the manor, "But ever-since Lelouch we found out Lelouch, Rolo and Nunnally are royalty, this place seems… grander."

"It doesn't seem that different to me." Shirley said. "It really hasn't changed from before."

"Actually, it did." Nina said, pointing at something. "At least, this wasn't there the last time I came here."

She was pointing at the wall on top of the great stairs. Hanging on it, perfectly centered between two grand windows, was a life size painting of a decidedly beautiful woman in a blue dress. She had long, wavy black hair, fair skin and purple eyes.

"Hey, you're right, that wasn't there before!" Rivalz said, then took a better look at the picture. "Is that Lelouch's mother?"

"Yes." Milly said. "That's the late empress Marianne vi Britannia."

"Waow! He really takes after his mother" Rivalz said. "And I mean that in a good way! She's a-!"

He was interrupted by hand-smack behind the head.

"The least you can do is show a little respect, Rivalz." Shirley, who was the owner of the smacking hand, said.

"I hadn't even said anything!" He protested.

"We all knew where you were going." Milly said. "Ha, Sayoko!"

The said maid had just appeared from a doorway.

"Miss Ashford." She said with a polite bow. "Master Rolo and mistress Nunnally are already in the pool in the back. This way please."


Sayoko brought the students to the pool area in the back of the manor. Other than Nunnally and Rolo, who were both in the water and greeted their friends from there, there was Joshua Gottwald, in white swimming trunks and orange Hawaiian shirt, sitting on a lounge chair under a large parasol. His little sister Lilicia was sitting at the side of the pool with Euphemia beside her. Another man was sitting off to the side, but he remained mostly unnoticed by the guests. Their attention was monopolized by a very energetic discussion Joshua was having on his cell phone. It went like this:

"…Frank, I keep telling you- Frank! No, no Frank. Listen to me, Frank. Are you listening to me? Okay! Now, I know the guys are pissed, I got that flavor already. But that don't mean we can air anything we want in retaliation! The recording you sent me, I just won't cut it. Or rater, the radio programmers WILL cut it! I know these guys, that's why I'm so good at what I do. So you go tell them to either work on something different, or wait until the meeting in two week!... Good! See you on the third! Tell Lorie I say hi!"

Then he hung up.

"What was that about?" Rivalz asked Joshua.

"Hey guys!" Josh said, not even getting up. "This call, you mean? Well, it was about this."

Sitting on a small table beside Joshua was a small digital audio player/recorder. Josh pushed the play button on it. A voice sounding like a middle aged-man said. "The followingmessage is paid and endorsed by the Floridian Orange Growers Association: … 'Fuck tangerines!'" That last part was said in a deep, cavernous tone.

The three girls sweat dropped, while Rivalz went up in pails of Laughter.

"Ho man!" He said. "That was awesome!"

"I'll tell Frank you think so." Joshua dead panned. "He'll be overjoyed."

"Will you kids keep it down?" Someone said from the side. That was the man the group had failed to notice. Sitting on a patio chair was none other than Simon A. Kayne, wearing a similar attire as Joshua, except his shorts where red and his shirt was a deep royal blue. He was holding a very thick magazine with an obscure, obviously scientific title, which he had been reading, or at least trying to.

"Huh, who's the old bald guy?" Shirley said without thinking.

"'Old bald guy'!?" Kayne said, outraged.

"Sorry!" Shirley said quickly. "It was thoughtless of me."

"Humpff." Kayne huffed. " Indeed it was! But, apologies accepted. Now, if you don't mind, I've got an article to finish dissecting so that I can carve its author a new one next time we meet."

"So, herrr, who is he?" Rivalz asked Rolo.

Nina, who knew the professor well, was about to answer, but was beat to the punch by Rolo.

"That's Professor Kayne." He said. "He's L.A.I.'s leading scientist and head of the R&D division."

"In short," Joshua said, "he's the one making doomsday machines for Lelouch and his men to kick ass in."

"Speaking of which," Shirley said, "has there been any news about Lelouch?"

"Nothing specific, since he's in a warzone and info control is crucial and all that jazz." Joshua answered. "But what I can tell you, is that he's doing very well. So far, he hasn't been injured, and all of his men are still alive."

"Well, that's good to hear." Shirley said. She might have stopped (mostly) seeing Lelouch in a romantic light, but she still considered him as a friend.

"That reminds me, Mr. Joshua." Rolo said. "As that acquaintance of yours landed in Russia safely?"

"I've been told she has. She should reach Lelouch's unit this day or tomorrow."

"Acquaintance?" Euphie said. "Who are you talking about?"

"Rachelle Hoffman." Lilicia said mater-of-factly. "That's who you're talking about, right?"

"Yes. She's someone I have worked with for a while." He explained.

"And what does she do?" Rivalz asked.

"She's a journalist who isn't afraid of a little danger." Joshua answered. "Info control or not, we fully intend to capture the moment when His Highness inevitably does something extra-awesome."

"And what will she do if he doesn't do anything 'extra-awesome'?" Lilicia asked.

"Ho, I don't think we need to worry about that. I've got a nose for things like this." Joshua tapped his nose as he said that. "It's only a matter of time!"


19th July 2017 A.T.B., Western part of the Russian Federation, 150 miles east of St-Petersburg, near the southern shores of Lake Lodoga.

"….You know, I've got things to do around here." Quartermaster Phil Carter said as he stared at the camera lens that was trusted at him.

"But aren't you on your coffee break?"

"….." Indeed, he was holding a coffee mug, and indeed, he was on a break (which he sorely needed, having been working for10 hours straight.) How that constituted a valid reason to pester him evaded Carter's logic.

Rachel Hoffman, 28 year old journalist with shoulder length auburn-hair and brown eyes, had indeed arrived that very same day with her cameraman, Denis Quaid, via helicopter. Right now, they were in the Armadillo's rear hangar.

"You look like a typical blue collar." Rachel went on. "I'm sure the common folks back home would love to hear what you have to say about his Highness."

"Listen lady, I'm here to fix Knightmares, not to talk into a damn microphone. Beside," He took a sip from his cup, "I wouldn't even listen to what I have to say myself, so I wouldn't count on other people to find me enlightening. So, no, I don't have nothing to say."

"Spoilsport." Rachel said with a pout, putting away her microphone.

Just then, an alarm sounded. "Incoming artillery fire!" A voice blared on the Armadillo's PA. "All-hands, brace for impact!"

Barely a second after, a nearby explosion rocked the landship. This caused Carter to spill some of the contents of his mug on himself.

"When do you think it would be possible to talk to his Highness?"

Carter looked up from his futile efforts at wiping off the coffee stain. "Hell if I know. He'll probably be around with the rest of the guys soon for a quick resupply. I wouldn't count on him having any-time for you then, thought. Now you'll excuse me, I've got to see if we're ready for them when they do come around."

"Well," Denis said, putting down his camera as Carter walked away, "he wasn't particularly cooperative."

"We've seen worst." Rachel said simply. "I wasn't expecting much anyway, but you can't get results unless you try."

"I just hope this is worth the risk of violent and sudden death."

"Don't worry. Joshua has a good nose for this kind of stuff. And if we do well, we'll get exclusive access to the prince!" Rachell grinned widely. "Just think! The other guys are going to be green with envy!"

End of chapter 28.


*Philip zi Britannia; That would be Charles and V.V.'s father, at least in this story. I'm taking an idea from Nightmare of Nunnally here. He was the crown prince of the Britannian empire in his time, and he wanted to change Britannia into a more open, tolerant country with a government that exists for the sake of its people. He was killed by the same attack that killed his wife and his other children, leaving his two eldest sons orphaned. His father was the emperor whom Charles' succeeds.

**Akito Hyuga and ***Reila Malkal: Those who have seen the OVA Akito the Exiled will surely recognise them. They, and a few Britannian alligned characters from that same OVA, will play a role in the in-coming chapters.

Damn, am I glad this chapter is done!

So, not much action in this chapter. I'm just setting the stage for events in future chapter. A lot is going to happen pretty soon! With zero coming out and all!

Until next time, see you around guys!

-Stan.

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