Soldier of OZ: Walker's Account
Chapter 36 – The Fight for Independence
Concealed by curtains, Ambassador Une stood in the dark recesses just off the main stage of L1-A-232's colonial legislature, joined by Flight Officer Nichol. Both were waiting for the colony's representative to finish his enthusiastic introduction of OZ's Commander-in-Chief of Space Forces.
"Andretti and Chernenko both joined Luna Armonia in advising against using the Winner Resource Satellite. The ground situation is too unstable, literally and figuratively."
"We'll need another location for the block construction," Une replied calmly.
"Thanks to the N.E.P., there must be plenty of suitable alternatives," Nichol offered, as clapping signaled it was Une's time to take the podium. The screen behind her showed captured video of OZ's anti-Alliance operations in other colonies.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the time for Colonial independence is now! For too long colonial citizens have been forced to live as second class citizens by the greed of the Earth Alliance. Why should you break your backs creating new worlds in space, only to fill the coffers of corrupt governments on Earth? Now is the time for action! Stand up and resist! Resist the U.E.S.A. occupation!"
The crowd roared its support as Une continued. "OZ supports you! Together, we'll create a new vision of life in Outer Space! A new future! Accept OZ's hand in support and embrace a new era of peace and prosperity!"
The rhetoric, more fiery than Une's usual oratory, was an immediate success, as many rose for a standing ovation. In particular, towards the front row, one suit-wearing colonial delegate was practically jumping.
"Hurray for OZ!"
"Long live Treize Khushrenada!"
"Down with the U.E.S.A.!"
"What do we want? Peace! When do we want it? Real soon!"
The jumping delegate raised a fist. "Your Excellency! As the elected representative of MO-V, I formally announce our support for OZ's independence movement! The people of MO-V want their independence and by joining OZ, we can ensure that freedom for our children! We will join OZ and fight for our future!"
The excited Representative Herman enjoyed applause from his neighbors, even as the two other members of his delegation stood by quietly, holding their smiles. Une met up with Nichol as they stepped down to the floor began whispering briefly.
"What about MO-V?"
"That may be doable. Shall I contact to the Jupiter Fleet?"
"Do that. I'll speak with their representative personally," she told him as they parted again.
Nichol nodded and discreetly, but visibly, began writing something on the back of a business card he'd taken from a colony congress deputy earlier with a tiny pen. "At this rate, there might not even be a delay."
"No. OZ doesn't put up with delays."
II
"Something…unfortunate…occurred to me this morning during breakfast."
Dr. Arai, a petite woman in her twenties in a hunter green service uniform under a white lab coat, the typical attire for OZ medical service personnel on Barge, sat with her legs crossed on her office chair. Sitting uncomfortably in front of her was Flight Lieutenant Walker, his hands squeezing the armrests of the patient's chair of her office.
"Go ahead, sir."
Walker replayed the event in his mind while describing it: he'd been waiting in line in main cafeteria for breakfast at 0800 hours, accompanied by Flight Officers Kaneshiro and Mazuri, and Pilot Officer Bishop. Instead of 'Citadel', everyone was talking about the same thing: the appearance of Millardo Peacecraft. The four of them ignored it instead, particularly Kanna, who was taking her time at the beverage counter.
"I don't think it's the same guy," a Mobile Suit Troops officer had informed his neighbor. "No one's seen it yet, how do you know it's the same guy?"
"Would anyone care if it wasn't the same man?" the other had immediately countered. "Something damn strange is going on right now, that much is certain."
The first one shook his head. "Back me up here," he asked another officer. "Zechs Merquise is dead, right? He died fighting the Alliance in the Indian Ocean, didn't he?"
"Well, yes," she acknowledged. "That's what was in all the papers."
"That's another thing: am I the only one who thinks it's a little strange that Zechs Merquise was arrested for treason, and before the trial finished, he's killed in action?"
"It's a little strange," she admitted.
"The brass probably wanted to spare all of us the pain of watching a drawn-out trial," another officer had then stated, sitting down at the table with his tray in hand. "Bad for morale."
"Or Zechs Merquise isn't really dead," the first officer offered. "And he's right there, at C-102, devising some plan to fuck OZ a second time. How the mighty have fallen, haven't…" The officer as cut off by a loud popping noise, and then everyone was looking at Walker.
"…they?"
Walker didn't realize what he'd done until he looked down and found he'd squeezed the plastic can of orange juice he was holding so hard it had burst, getting most of it on Dac's uniform. Walker didn't even remember grabbing the can in the first place.
"That was a little unseemly," Walker muttered softly. The bio-medical sensors next to his chair relayed his mental state, illustrating his every twitch and tension on the adjacent display.
"You mean embarrassing?" Arai asked.
"And that."
Arai glanced at Walker's medial chart, twirling a pencil in her left hand.
"I'm sure my history is indicative of why I might have had that reaction," Walker confessed. Arai just nodded, her short bob hair shifting slightly. She had a hairstyle that reminded Walker of Ogasawara's nonflying adjutant, but without the clearly-cut bangs. Arai was also several years older, at least.
"I'm…a little uncomfortable discussing this."
"Flight Lieutenant, do you have any family?" she asked.
"My mother lives in North America. My sister is also in the Space Forces."
She did that same nod again, jotting something on his chart that he couldn't see. Resting his hands anxious in his laps, Walker waited for her to say something else, feeling more intimidated now than before.
"Your blood work and physical examination suggest fairly severe overworking, even on first alert scheduling," she told him finally. "You may also be suffering from a common and mild form of psychoneurosis."
Walker looked visibly distressed. "Excuse me, 'psychoneurosis'?"
"A mental condition not caused by delusions or hallucinations, wherein your demonstrated behavior is still sociably acceptable. Given your background in the Mobile Suit Troops, and the current situation in Outer Space, I'm going to recommend your flight in Squadron One be put on semi-active status and you personally be given some lighter fare that would preferably take you away from L1 for no less than a week."
"Great," Walker replied, sounding dismayed.
"As I am a military psychiatrist, and you only came here on the expressed orders of your commanding officer, I'm sure Colonel North will be amenable to the suggestion. The alternative is I prescribe you a psychoactive drug that you take regularly from now on."
Walker looked at her blankly.
"Take the working vacation, Flight Lieutenant."
"Right," he said quietly.
Dr. Arai sighed. "Psychiatry has been around for almost five hundred years, and people still don't want to talk to their counselors," she muttered to either herself or Walker, he couldn't tell which. "I want you to have another appointment in a week's time, or as soon as possible after that. Is that clear?"
"Very clear."
"Good."
She uncrossed her legs and stood up. "Also make sure to get a good night's sleep. Do you drink or smoke?"
"No, not recently."
She set Walker's chart down on her desk authoritatively. "Maybe you should consider it."
"Excuse me?"
"Get more sleep, Flight Lieutenant."
"I will, Doctor."
Walker meekly dismissed himself, giving Dr. Arai a moment to herself. She removed her coat, stretched her arms above her head, and reached down to touch the toes of her boots when the speaker on the wall beeped.
"Dr. Arai, your next patient is here," a man's voice informed her.
Arai sighed, arching her back quickly, and reached for the nearby shelf, taking another medical chart. "First Lieutenant Sieben Hopkins. Go ahead."
"I'll wheel him in immediately, ma'am."
III
At his office in New Castle in Ansembourg, a display urgently alerted Treize Khushrenada of UESA Military Space Forces movements in the area of the First Lagrange Point, towards Earth. They were not yet in reach of the orbital defense network, however, and there was not much to distinguish them from the Alliance's typical posturing.
With his adjutant nearby, Treize read the letter topping a stack sitting on his desk.
My dear Mrs. and Mr. Yao,
The knowledge that one of your twin sons is missing in action against the enemy while another has become victim of this shocking biological weapon attack in the Republic of Utah has moved me to contact you personally. I realize fully there is little I can say to assuage your grief and anxiety.
As Commander-in-Chief of the combined Terrestrial and Extraterrestrial Military Forces of the Order of the Zodiac, I want you to know that the whole of Earth Sphere shares in your sorrow. I offer you the condolences and the gratitude of our Earth. We who remain to carry on the fight must remain strong and resilient, with the knowledge that sacrifices like this have not been made in vain.
The Mobile Suit Troops General Staff has informed me that your twin sons requested to serve in the same military unit, the 40th Canadian Victorian Cross Airborne Battalion, and I know we all take heart in the knowledge that they fought shoulder to shoulder. As your son Shun wrote, "Together we are unbeatable." We should never forget that spirit.
You have given two sons to the Order of the Zodiac, in a tremendous act of patriotism and sacrifice, and it serves as a genuine inspiration for both myself and, I believe, all Earthlings. Such strength demonstrates the unshakable resolve and spirit of mankind.
I offer you my deepest sympathy in this trying hour and pray that in the Almighty God you will find comfort and health.
Very sincerely yours,
T. Khushrenada
Treize Khushrenada, Commander-in-Chief of OZ, Count of Zürich, KCRF
MACR Serrati stood at attention as His Excellency signed the letter with a pen and was about to methodically put it on the pile to his right when he paused and stared at it for another second instead.
"Something about that letter, Your Excellency?" Serrati asked.
"More so than most. These parents had two sons in Utah, one in the Mobile Suit Troops, another in the Combat Engineer Corps." He took another letter and carefully signed it. "One was listed missing in action outside of New Jerusalem. The other, three hours later, was injured in the bio-weapon attack and may not survive, much less recover."
He gave a short, restrained sigh. "There are not enough hours in the day to sign all of these," he reflected somberly.
"I'm sure they're appreciated, Your Excellency."
Treize took a moment to respond. "I think Sylvia Noventa didn't appreciate the one sent to her."
Serrati gratefully didn't have to respond, thanks to the large display on the wall emitting a tone. One of the many red elliptical orbits between Earth and L1, had shifted apparently shifted, indicating that an ex-Alliance unit was on the move. A second later, the telephone on the desk just past the door rang. Serrati jumped at it, answering.
"Thank you." He hung up. "Your Excellency, an Alliance unit is on course for the western hemisphere, over continental North America."
"How many capital ships?" Treize asked calmly.
"Just one, Your Excellency."
He raised an eyebrow. "Only one?"
IV
"Madame Defense Minister!"
Counter Admiral Arroway, resting her head on one of her hands, glanced at the direction of her XO, a tall, muscular Alliance Space Navy commander in a black tunic whom had served her for nearly a decade.
"Our course is laid out. Estimated time to next maneuver is two-hundred minutes."
"Lowest altitude?" she asked leisurely.
The XO checked a nearby computer display, which now showed the countdown of three hours and twenty minutes. "Estimated periapsis will be four-hundred and five kilometers."
Arroway waited another moment, dangling her folded fan by its gold lanyard, then glanced at a display immediately ahead of her. On the monitor, the course of CVA-40 at its closest approach to Earth was highlighted in contrast to OZ's defensive units and the projected position of Barge in its orbit. At its periapsis, the EASFS Africana would be at phase angle of 162° relative to the fortress's circular orbit, and far underneath it.
She abruptly stood up, causing her XO to stand at attention. "Alert all positions: assume battle stations at once!" she shouted, gesturing with her fan like a marshal's baton. "Begin Operation 'Dunkirk'!"
"Yes ma'am! All stations, full alert!"
Arroway ran her gloves along her long cloak "ECM at full power. All communications will be conducted by point-to-point datalink only."
"Aye aye, ma'am," the comm officer announced.
Leisurely, she crossed the red carpet under her 'throne', standing by her XO. "Prepare the 'package' for deployment."
"It already is, Defense Minister."
"Excellent."
Orbiting at less than a twentieth of Barge's altitude, just outside the atmosphere, were the hundreds of small, solar-powered space stations and satellite outposts OZ had inherited from the UESA, the command posts for Earth's defensive network. With only a dozen or so personnel each, each station shared the gargantuan task of monitoring all traffic in and out of the thermosphere.
"At least one deep space carrier, likely Europa-class. Their ECM is likely concealing other smaller picket ships," a recon officer announced from his post.
His CO turned himself in the low gravity with a handrail. "Use our datalink with all neighboring outposts and satellites to try and clean up the sensor readings. And contact the nearest fleet!"
"EBC-31 is approximately forty-thousand kilometers away, but isn't making any course corrections, sir."
"The Over the Rainbow will need another day to change its course. Anything else?"
"Defensive Taskforce No. 11 incoming," another officer announced. "ETA one-hundred and seventy minutes." The taskforce's position appeared on the displayed map. In the middle of a long burn, two Titan-class cruisers in dark grey OZ colors with white stripes were surrounded by three small destroyer escorts, an upgunned Los Angeles-class fast cruiser, and a Fēiyú Yī-class destroyer pulling up the rear.
"Seven ships total. Cruisers are the Enceladus and the Rhea," Arroway's XO announced.
Arroway didn't bother hiding the smirk appearing on her face. "The Rhea. What a funny coincidence."
At the opposite end of the bridge, behind the helm, one office leaned towards another. "Did the Rhea…?"
"Affirmative. One of the cruisers that destroyed Vice Admiral Arroway's command ship, the Calypso," he whispered back.
"Those two cruisers are the only thing we need to worry about," a senior officer announced from behind Arroway.
"All the same, have Soletta deploy. OZ is overdue for a bloody nose."
In an OZ-06SMS 'Space Leo' mobile suit, Captain Soletta checked her helmet's magnetic seals and moved her machine into position. Her Leo carried the standard beam rifle, but its booster pack had been modified with four long propellant tanks extending out from it behind her. She stood in front of the port catapult hatch just in time for it to open up and reveal a crowded starfield.
"Weapons restrictions lifted, Sabre Leader. Good hunting," a metallic voice told her in her helmet.
Her mobile suit's right manipulator grasped the catapult rail extended from the carrier's hull, and its right fixed itself into the rail below her. "Sabre Leader, ready to launch!"
In unison, the two anchors yanked her forwards and threw her free into space. The process was repeated on the starboard side with a more conventional violet Pioneer Leo armed with a missile launcher. In rapid succession, the Africana deployed ten further mobile suits from its massive hangar.
"Sabre Leader to all callsigns," she announced over point-to-point transmission. "Maintain tight formation along my vector. And watch for the signal."
"Sabre 1-1, what signal are we going to be getting in the middle of radio silence?" Sabre 1-3 asked nervously.
"You'll know it when you see it, Lieutenant."
On the Africana, the large hangar door on the central bow swung open and extended the center catapult outwards. Within a few seconds of the catapult lights coming on, a one-use carriage shot out of the hangar on a few boosters. When it cleared the carrier by a half-kilometer, the carriage split apart and a rectangular utility craft loaded with twelve large container continued under its own power. Ten second later, the craft shed its containers all at once.
"What the hell are those?" the space station officer asked.
His commander's eyes widened. "Shit, missile pods! Retarget the defensive cannons!"
Even as he gave this order, the containers split open and poured out a dozen small and maneuverable guided missiles each. Soon, 144 small missiles rained upon the space station and its neighboring satellites and automated turrets. The utility craft continued for a few more seconds, before exploding in a blinding but harmless spectacle.
"That's the signal!" Soletta announced, checking her sensor readout on one of her MFDs. A section of Earth's defensive satellite network, a rough circle about 400 kilometers wide, was either destroyed or crippled.
"Package successfully deployed," Arroway's XO announced. "Almost ninety-percent of the missiles found their targets."
"Save the details for the military journals," Arroway said, visibly holding back laughter. "Have Soletta clear the field of any surviving outposts and watch for interceptors. Their best time from Earth to this altitude is a half-hour."
"Yes ma'am."
Using visual targeting, over the next few minutes Soletta's violet Pioneer Leos made short work of the unarmed space stations and lightly armed automated turrets, already hurting from the missile attack. Daringly, Sabre 1-1 appeared directly in front of a space station's primary cupola before firing a single beam at under a dozen meters, killing everyone in the section instantly.
Arroway stood near the front of the bridge. "By now, they must know exactly what's going on. Our ECM makes Strategic Rocketry's surface-launched missiles useless without observational guidance. Their orbital silos could be more effective, but OZ can hardly lob dozens of nuclear missiles half-blind at this altitude."
"So hypersonic interceptors are their best option, ma'am?"
"From Earth, yes," Arroway replied, her eyes glancing at the course of the defensive taskforce and the associated countdown timer. "Don't underestimate the power of a nuclear torpedo carried by a forty-tonne fighter going fifteen thousand meters a second."
"Yes ma'am."
"Area is secure!" Saber 1-1 announced after turning to directly face the carrier, the emitter tip of her beam rifle still glowing.
"Acknowledged, Sabre Leader. Optics, what do you see?" a helm officer asked.
The Africana's potent optic telescope, built into the top of the conning tower, remained unaffected by the ECM. "Multiple objects spotted, bearing eight-eight, forty, minus eighty-three! Counted thirteen so far. Profile matches H.L.V.s!"
Arroway turned sharply and pointed her fan out. "All ships, commence the rescue of the H.L.V. escaping from Earth! Combat engineers, deploy and begin operation! Sabre unit, cover and assist rescue units!"
"Affirmative, Counter Admiral!"
With OZ rapidly closing in, Arroway's small force moved to rendezvous with the field of rising H.L.V.s rising up from Earth. Expressions of amazement and wonderment dominated the faces of those on the bridge, excluded those of the admiral and her executive officer.
"We've just been pinged by a high-speed bogey, heading one-seventy," a sensors officer announced.
"Looks like the ECM isn't perfect ma'am," the XO growled.
She gave a low chuckle. "It did its job, Commander," she told him, turning around and strolling back to her seat. "Alert all anti-aircraft batteries, and signal the troops."
From a small, inconspicuous launcher on the dorsal armor plating of the coning tower, the Africana fired a single flare, leaving a bright red streak across the stars. Soletta's Pioneers spotted it immediately and regrouped.
"Two OZ interceptors, heading one-sixty!"
As Sabre 2-1 had warned, two Shenyang orbital interceptors—massive but sleek the size of small strategic bombers that rode solid boosters into orbit—closed in, each armed with a powerful nuclear missile. Within a minute, they fired both missiles and broke off away from incoming fire.
"Hard to port, full power," Arroway ordered, her eyes rapidly moving between the two missiles as they began to veer apart on the sensor display. "Deploy countermeasures!"
"Aye aye, ma'am! Deploying countermeasures," an officer shouted as the two helmsmen in front of him carefully twisted their control yokes. The view of outer space through the forward display began to tilt and turn.
In her cockpit, Soletta swung her machine around and began firing in the direction of the nearest missile, along with the other Pioneers. They kept firing as the missile tore right through a field of the furthest heavy lift vehicles and exploded against one of the picket ships, splitting the keel in half and flinging the dual ECM pods away in a single blinding explosion.
"Direct impact on the Triton, she is sunk!" a bride officer shouted. "Our ECM is lost!"
"Missile impacting in ten…nine…eight…" another counted down as Arroway clenched her jaw and squeezed her fan with one hand and her armrest with another.
"…four…three…two…!"
V
Walker's reassignment came promptly, as Dr. Arai had told him it would. He was saying his goodbyes, leaving Kaneshiro Kanna in charge temporarily after she gave him a friendly but overpowering hug. Bishop and Mazuri were less physical, settling on long handshakes.
Kanna snickered at them. "Don't be so emotional. The boss will be back before we drop the hammer on D-120, right Taichō?"
Walker finished a long, slightly awkward handshake with Dac before answering. "Yes, I will. I've never been one to pass up making history."
Kanna grinned triumphantly, causing Mazuri to shake his head and adjust his glasses. "In the meantime, F/L, try and get some rest before the hunt is on."
"Yeah, don't let them overwork you," Dac added.
"Thank you, I will." He gave them his best smile before floating up to the transport shuttle. His three subordinates watched him vanish through the hatch, which was shut shortly after by ground crew.
"You think he will?" Kanna asked finaly.
"I think it's a fifty-fifty split. It depends on what they're having him work on," Mazuri surmised.
Dac gave an authoritative cough. "I've known Oswald Walker longer than anyone here, longer than anyone on Barge. If he's at the end of his rope, it's for a good reason, I know that much." He gave both of them an almost commanding glance and marched off, head held high.
Kanna and Mazuri watched him. "What do you make of that?" she asked, cocking her head.
"I think he needs to get laid," Mazuri stated resolutely. By the time he turned back, Kanna had already strolled off, hands over her head. "Come now, Kanna, you're supposed to ask which one I meant!"
Walker's flight was uneventful, and he spent most of it watching the monitor in the front of the cabin display the shuttle's elliptical orbit from Earth to the outermost fringes of the Second Lagrange Point and their destination: the most distant of the active resource satellites.
"Have you heard anything about MO-V, Flight Lieutenant?" a voice asked from the aisle. After recognized it, Walker smiled and turned.
"Actually, no, I have not, Lieutenant Sernan."
Smiling back at him in the mostly-empty shuttle cabin was Second Lieutenant Ron Sernan of OZ's Engineering Corps, who saluted cheerfully. Walker returned it and beckoned him to sit down next to him.
"That doesn't surprise me."
"Have you?"
He crossed his arms. "Only that it's home to an old MS sub-contractor employed by the Alliance and that they kept a low profile until this most recent contract from OZ."
"If money didn't talk, I suppose the Romefeller Foundation wouldn't be so central to the body politic," he pointed out. When Sernan didn't respond, Walker glanced at him and elbowed him gently. "Anything else? About MO-V."
"No, not really. Do you know what we're doing in MO-V?"
Walker thought about it. "No. I assumed it was restarting mobile suit production, possibly retooling factories. Since I worked at Corisca, I've been called in for that in the past."
"That would make sense," Sernan admitted. "Nichol didn't tell me anything either, just that we'd be briefed when we were there."
"Mobile suit production would make sense to explain the secrecy. Have you seen the reports on Mercurius and Vayeate? I was kept out of that at Barge."
"It would make sense."
Walker tried to relax his posture in his fairly plush seat. "I guess we'll just have to wait to find out."
VI
In L1-C-102, Flight Officer Nichol took another look at the business card he'd scribbled notes on previously. The negotiations with Representative Herman had gone smashingly thanks to Une, even if Nichol personally wasn't in favor of delegating like this.
Still, 'Bliznets' is a top priority. We can hardly argue with the World Congress demanding results when they're bankrolling the whole thing. He tore the business card into tiny shreds. Or the Romefeller Foundation, rather.
He had other, bigger problems on his mind though. He'd heard Walker had been sent out, and he envied him a little.
Lady Une had returned from the summit at L1-A-232 in time to meet 'Ambassador Millardo Peacecraft', envoy of the Sanc Kingdom. The same Millardo Peacecraft who'd been found in the operational but supposedly missing prototype, OZ-00MS 'Tallgeeese'.
"Survey strongly suggests that it's not a duplicate," a junior officer explained, looking up from his report. "The quality of the repairs looks excellent, most likely done by someone with experienced the unit in the past."
Well, that narrows it down. "Very interesting." He glanced at his watch. "It'll be towed in by now. Let's keep our distinguished colonial delegates on track."
Accompanied by the officer, Nichol calmly strolled into the traffic control level for C-102's massive central hangar. He immediately recognized the half-dozen civilian representatives who had asked for, and been granted, access to the situation, including Representative Nguyen.
"Sirs!" he announced confidently, interrupting their muttering. "I'll remind you that military weapon was used against OZ on Earth. We will be conducting a thorough inspection of the unit."
"Of course," Nguyen said, missing his trademark glasses. He was as surprised as anyone. "And Lady Une?"
"Look for yourself, sir."
A short-range shuttlecraft had brought Une into the hangar, which filled with CAST personnel in their dress uniforms after it was sealed and re-pressurized. Waiting at Tallgeese's feet, she watched the mobile suit's cockpit door fall open and the hatch slide up, and a man her age in blindingly white royal regalia floated down to the floor.
Une waited for him to speak first, which he did, his voice picked up on sensitive microphones. "I think I'll get to the point, Madame Ambassador. The new political system that has arisen since OZ has united with the colonies has had considerable influence on Earth. On behalf of my nation, I've come to Outer Space to understand this situation."
"Your nation…?" Une asked in her careful, harmless manner.
"That's correct. I've come here from the Sanc Kingdom. My name is Millardo Peacecraft."
This didn't mean much to the delegates above. Nichol just put a hand to his head, shaking it repeatedly.
"Oh my. His Excellency, the commander-in-chief of OZ, has had ties with the Sanc Kingdom since his youth. I understood your nation was recovering from wars, Mr. Ambassador."
He nodded very slightly. "I understand that many colonies are pursuing military advancement. Since I understand the implications of war, I thought I could advise them in some way."
Une's expression hadn't changed. "There are many ways to obtain peace for one's nation. I think you'll find that our methods are among the best."
"Then will you allow me to act on my own accord while I'm in Outer Space?"
"Of course, Your Excellency."
He seemed a little pleased. "You might be on the right track to peace, Ambassador Une."
Nichol resisted the urge to kick the cheap furniture in the control room. "Peacecraft? That's what he calls himself now? Let him, he's still Zechs Merquise, OZ's greatest traitor and murderer of his own men!"
VII
As promised, OZ did not detain the Sanc Kingdom's envoy for long. Everything they needed to determine from his mobile suit was found out in a matter of minutes, and he was released on his way with the fuel he needed, a gift from OZ's extraterrestrial commander-in-chief.
Space Colony L1-D-120. Home to the United Earth Sphere Alliance Armed Forces Headquarters. Even as OZ encouraged the forming of a colonial nation in Outer Space, instead of a government forced by Earth. Its government continued to view itself as the legitimate political and military voice of Earth in Outer Space, and maintained the functions and institutions associated with it.
As with any colony, D-120 had an elected representative: Gwinter Septim, son of the former commander-in-chief of Alliance Space Forces. The ex-Alliance leadership, as OZ labeled them, associated with him remained deeply troubled by the actions of ostensibly neutral colonies seeking independence with OZ backing.
In a colony surrounded by minefields and other defenses, in the most militarized area of Outer Space, D-120's Supreme Military Council met. In effect the colony's legislature, Gwinter Septim III briefed his fellow councilors to the situation.
All around him, the senior-most active members of the officer corps, including the Alliance General Staff, sat in three concentric rings of seats, their uniforms forming a sea of olive drab and gold epaulets. Some matched his rank. Septim was recognizable by his large, muscular stature, his dark hair and the blue-and-white sash he wore as colonial representative over his uniform, along with the Order of Leopold, just as his father had worn.
"What are you hesitating for?" a mustached officer, General Lefebvre asked, rising from his seat. "OZ is clearly trying to secure their position further with this."
He tightened his white gloved hand into a fist. "In the meantime, technological strength like this will just threatened Earth further."
Septim listened, eyes closed, a gloved hand to his face. He said nothing.
"OZ views space merely as a massive factory for military hardware, and we must stop them! It's our mission, it has been since Operation 'M' began!"
Septim spoke finally, his voice deep and more than a little commanding, despite his younger age than most of his audience. "Any battle will result in high casualties. This is a fact. However, with our current military strength, dialogue is still an option."
A general in the back row rose to his feet. "They're planning to use Outer Space to manufacture and further refine their mobile doll force. These murder machines will allow OZ to take over the colonies and dictate policy!"
"Do the rest of you gentlemen feel the same?"
The crowd of general-rank officers—some of them twenty-year veterans, others clearly young replacements promoted in the chaotic days of OZ's coup—sat in silence. Septim watched them patiently, hiding his feeling of dread. Like the Ten-Thousand-Year Congress after fleeing China. This is our Taiwan. He thought of the National Assembly of the Republic of China, which had fled to Taiwan following its disastrous defeat in that country's famed civil war. Here in D-120, almost thirty generals sat, commanders of army groups and divisions that no longer existed. What a wretched sight. No wonder Arroway keeps the navy staff to herself.
"Zechs Merquise has arrived in Outer Space," an old voice declared. It came from the back row of officers, where Gwinter Septim I, an elderly but muscular bald man in a plain suit and bowtie, sat.
"The Lighting Count is alive?" someone murmured.
"Impossible! He's here?" another added.
"It's Earth that fears the arming of Outer Space the most," the elder statesman explained. "Zechs knows OZ better than any other, and wishes for peace planetside. We should take the time to hear what he has to say."
Gwinter Septim looked up at his grandfather. "He has cut his ties with OZ. But what is he doing in space?"
"That man must hold a great love for his motherland. Even at risk, he knows something must be done. We can't overestimate the importance of his visit."
Septim nodded. "I agree with my esteemed grandfather. Let's take a recess and find out exactly what he's up to."
There was no objection from the rest of the council and generals began to disperse. The younger Septim approached the elder. "When did you learn of this, grandfather?"
"Just now," he whispered back. "But first things first," he said, waiting for a private moment.
"'Dunkirk'?"
"I didn't want to agitate the council," his grandfather admitted. "I don't know the details. But I hear it's good."
Septim closed his eyes. "Thank God."
"Thank Arroway, if so. As much as I despise that woman, she gets results, just as you said. I'm sorry I ever doubted you."
"You had reason to be cautious, Grandfather. Her reputation in the Mobile Suit Troops was…unusual…but we needed that."
"I'm sorry, am I interrupting family business?"
Both turned to the shadows cast by the marble columns along the outer wall—in one stood Counter Admiral Arroway, hands crossed underneath her tan cloak and over her black uniform.
"Commander Arroway," the elder Septim almost growled. "Welcome back and congratulations."
"Thank you," she replied shortly, keeping her smile. "May I?"
"Of course, I was just leaving," the old man replied humbly, leaving the chamber.
"Arroway, I could use some good news right now."
She grinned at him devilishly from behind her fan. "Right away, Your Excellency."
In short order, the two were in a major hangar in the Military Quarter. At the top of the gantry, Arroway directed his attention to the hangar floor.
"I give you the Noventan Republic Home Army."
Across the warehouse floor were no less than twelve suits, a full squadron of battered and gunfire-riddled OZ-06MS 'Leos' in Alliance olive-drab. There were no less than three different sets of squadron markings between them. Below, scattered across the floor, were approximately two hundred battle-worn Alliance soldiers in officers, their uniforms still caked in dirt and stained with blood. Many were lying on the backs on medical sheets, attended to by medics.
"How many are there?"
"About ten times this, either on the colony or with the fleet," Arroway explained, resting her fan on her shoulder. "Some of them are worse off. But we have parts and ammunition, neither of which New Jerusalem possess."
"Make the preparations to organize them into two full-strength battalion."
"And the reinforcements?"
"Dissolve the Fifty-Fifth Separate Company. Take the best rated officers, promote them to the Republican Guard." He sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm micromanaging again, Helena."
She gave a loud, vibrant laugh, throwing her head back. "Of course, Mr. President."
He watched her, then turned back to the crowd below them. "I hope gassing half of Utah was worth it," he said, the regret in his voice obvious.
"Earth is lost," she said in a matter-of-fact sneer, before turning and strolling off, playing with her fan. "Good day, Mr. President."
He watched his defense minister depart and heaved a sigh. Obediently, a brilliantly-dressed bodyguard stood forward at attention. "Sir?"
"Oh, thank you. I'll be just another moment, Sergeant."
"Of course, sir."
He turned back to them view, putting his hands over the railing. Amid the activity, he spotted a very pretty girl, a young woman in jeans and a tight sweater, with long, wavy hair in a low elastic hair tie. With her sleeves rolled back, she was performing basic medical tests on the injured officers who were still able to sit upright, asking them to open their mouths for a flashlight and a thermometer.
Who is she? He shook his head and cleared his throat loudly. "Comrades, your attention please."
A few attentive men and women looked at him and recognized him, then immediately stood at attention. Those with their black caps saluted. The woman in civilian dress recognized him and immediately assumed an unmistakable military posture.
"The commander-in-chief is present!" she barked out, giving every indication she was actually the ranking officer.
He nodded at her, hiding his uncertainty about her. "Thank you. Actually, that's what I must say: thank you, all of you. I may have never have seen such a group of soldiers who have given so much, sacrificed so much, at every turn in this war."
He clenched his jaw. "I am…in awe of you. The Alliance has suffered enormously at the hands of OZ and its Colonial collaborators. You stand in its last citadel, the last sanctuary of peace and justice in Earth Sphere. And yet, I challenge anyone—OZ, the Romefeller Foundation, the colonies—to show me braver, harder soldiers than you. We in Outer Space owe you nothing for this task, because you are our salvation," he told them, his voice beginning to break.
"Dio salvi l'Alleanza!"
"Dio salvi l'Alleanza!" dozens of voices chanted back, echoing through the hangar.
VIII
The high-speed shuttle quickly delivered them to their destination: the farthest reaches of Earth Sphere, far removed from any colony clusters, just beyond Luna's orbit. From their cabin, Earth was a small blue and white sphere visible against the field of stars, the smallest Walker had ever seen it. But Walker wasn't looking at Earth.
He pressed himself against the small porthole, trying to get a better view of something much closer.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Sernan asked.
Walker was actually at a loss for words. Before him were a fleet of the largest spacecraft he'd ever seen, at least four massive barges that he could immediately pick out. Determining their dimensions was difficult until he recognized two much smaller military vessels, Yi Xing-class destroyers, flanking the forward-most ship. Both destroyers had their running lights illuminated, and the glare they cast on the huge tanker ship gave him some idea of its size. The keel must be almost two kilometers long!
"An eleven," Sernan said, squinting. "See that? The number eleven."
"It must be EHT-11, the Jupiter."
"How did you know that was the leadship?"
"I didn't," Walker admitted. "It's just a guess."
"Remember the days when they used to print the name on the side of a spacecraft?"
"No. Neither do you," he reminded him.
The four Jupiter-class tankers—half of the entire fleet, as far as Walker knew—had visibly been retrofitted as construction ships, and were jointly towing a massive diamond-shape construct behind them, probably more than a kilometer long. Despite its massive size, Walker couldn't get a very clear look at it from his position. The shuttle changed direction and accelerated, closing in on EHT-11 and shortly docked with a small umbilical tunnel not far beneath the command tower, a reminder that the Jupiter was not a warship, but a converted construction tender. The surroundings on the other side were worn out and showing their age, with the ceilings lined with uncovered, color-coded cables and pipes.
"Welcome aboard sirs," a middle-aged Central Asian man with gray, receding hair told them promptly as they exited the tunnel. He wore a rather starched dark orange work uniform, like an engineer, and the trademark black visor cap of a merchant marine captain. His nametag identified him: MUSABEYEV.
"Thank you, Captain."
"Follow me please," he said very quickly.
He must work for OSC Concorde, Walker thought. Concorde was a state-owned corporation, named after the city of Novelle Concorde on Luna. They had been created in the early days of the Alliance solely for the purpose of resource extraction beyond Mars, what few resources there were out there. Walker didn't know who owned the corporation now.
Musabeyev led them to the bridge, which was similarly sparse and utilitarian compared to that of a warship. A half-dozen officers filled all the active positions, all wearing the same dark orange uniforms.
"Please wait here. We'll arrive at MO-V very soon, where you will transfer," he explained, sitting down at his own position, which looked as much like a small office as anything else.
"Thank you, Captain," Walker finally said. "Can we ask a question?"
Musabeyev didn't say anything, but gestured with his hands in what seemed like the affirmative.
"I wasn't able to see it clearly, but what is it that we're towing? Is it the contractor project for MO-V?"
He nodded. "It's the North Block."
"The North Block of what, Captain?"
"The military's newest weapon, they've said. It doesn't have a name yet."
It was a very unsatisfactory answer, but Walker understood that if he and Sernan hadn't been told anything, it was likely Musabeyev didn't either. After all, his responsibility was transport, as it had always been for the captain of this tanker. He had no role in construction.
"Thank you, Captain." Walker sat down at the back of the bridge, crossing his arms. Sernan, looking dismayed, followed him. And the Jupiter continued on, barely interrupted by the two arriving officers, in silence much like its captain. Within a few hours, MO-V became clearly visible through the forward windows, a tall, potato-shaped asteroid with a slowly-spinning Stanford torus colony ring imbedded in it, with industrial complexes and docks extended in both directions.
Musabeyev spoke again, this time through the intercom system. "We've arrived at MO-V, the farthest resource satellite from Earth, population one hundred thousand. Local time is fifteen hours, thirty two minutes."
"I think that's our cue," Walker said, rising with Sernan. "Thank you for the ride, Captain."
Musabeyev nodded without saying another word.
"You know Romefeller has an owning stake in OSC Concorde?" Sernan whispered to Walker as they departed the bridge.
Walker responded at normal volume. "I'd be more surprised if they didn't. The real question is who inherited the Alliance's fifty-percent-plus-one?"
"Well, OZ is allowed to own property. Something has to back the paycheques."
"Of course," Walker mumbled as the two returned to the section they'd boarded from. By the time they'd reached it, another much smaller shuttle was docking. The floor chief looked up at them.
"Good timing, sirs, your ride's here."
"How many more transfers before the next one's free?" Sernan joked. The floor chief gave him a good-natured shrugged. "I always find that civilian contractors have a better sense of humor."
"You mean they laugh at more of your jokes," Walker observed as the umbilical tunnel door opened again. This time, instead of more officers, young woman floated through in a bulky civilian normal suit missing its helmet. She stopped herself with one of the overhead cables.
"There's a difference?" Sernan asked, before looking at the newcomer.
"Are you two Lieutenant Walker and Lieutenant Sernan?"
"This is Flight Lieutenant Walker of the Mobile Suit Troops, and I'm Second Lieutenant Sernan of Engineering," Sernan said quickly. The woman looked a year or two younger than Walker, with medium-length dark hair that she wore tied with a red bow behind her neck, and when she landed on her feet in front of them extended her hand.
"Nice to meet both of you. I'm Lucille Aisley, with the MO-V's Technical College. I'll be escorting you to the dock where the North Block is scheduled for completion, so you can do your reviews."
"Thank you, Ms. Aisley."
"Please, call me Lucille. Come on, it's a short flight, and I promise it's plush compared to this. I can't believe you're not wearing your normal suits."
With a steady hand, Lucille delivered them to one of the massive extending dock arms reaching out from the asteroid proper. Half way down the arm was a spinning habitat ring, which Lucille pointed at. "You're welcome to head to Old Town every night, but the workers find that having their own habitat is a lot more efficient and cuts down on traffic. It's not as nice as the rest of the dock, but it's all right."
Walker and Sernan nodded dutifully as the shuttle linked with another tunnel and they crossed over.
"Time for a quick tour," Lucille announced enthusiastically as she began discarded her normal suit. She wore a more brightly-colored one-piece orange-and-yellow corporate jumpsuit. "Over that way is the habitat ring that you saw. In your rooms you'll get your work clothes, which'll be a lot better than your uniforms, I promise."
"We brought work clothes," Walker promised.
She nodded. "On the way is Medical, hopefully you'll never need to visit. You're both engineers, right?"
Walker nodded and gesture at Sernan. "The lieutenant is still in the service, but I was on the design department at the Corsica Works."
"Great! Follow me." Grabbing some guide rails, the three proceeded down the hundreds of meters that made up the main thoroughfare for the dock. "That's life support, you guys are probably familiar with that. Each dock is self-sufficient, we produce all our air and water. Right, Dick?"
Another young man in similiar work uniform, 'HIDASAKI' sewn on his breast, waved as she passed. "Hey Lucille!"
"What did you originally produce here, Lucille?" Walker asked as they continue on.
"Ship hulls and drive systems. But before the Alliance fell, we were a subcontractor and secondary assembly plant for the Leo mobile suit, space type."
"I see."
Lucille gave him a look before continuing on with the same enthusiasm. "And at the end of the line is your workplace, the hangars and assembly arms for shipbuilding. This is where you'll spend most of our time. But before that, the best part."
"What would that be?"
"The mess hall, of course."
The three entered a small section built into the end of the dock. Inside was a lounge that doubled as a small cafeteria. There were all the trappings of comfort: video displays, magazines, a couch on the top level which was opened into the dining area below it. The two floated down and saw another older woman moving things between shelves and cabinets Identified by her nametag was another civilian in a work uniform, Levy showed them the back of the compartment to reveal an efficiently-designed kitchen. Levy asked them about their favorite desserts.
"Excuse me?"
"Desserts, Lieutenant Walker. I like to make everyone's favorite desert if I can. What about you, you have a favorite, Lieutenant Sernan?"
Sernan answered in a second. "Key lime pie. I really like key lime pie."
"Can do, Lieutenant," Levy responded with a big smile, looking back at Walker. "I didn't get yours, Lieutenant Walker."
Walker was actually thinking about how she referred to both of them by the same title. "Could you do lemon sorbet?"
"With a little lemon liqueur? Easy, I've got bottles coming in from MO-V tonight."
"Really?" Walker was genuinely surprised.
"Really. Just ask Lucy, I'm a whiz at this sort of thing. Put some chocolate syrup on it."
"Maybe some whipped cream?" Sernan asked.
"Well…"
Walker raised an eyebrow. "You can't have everything, Ron. And at this air pressure, that seems to include whipped cream. You'll have to go to Old Town instead."
The two floated back up to the lounge area. "Well, what do you think?" Lucille asked, grinning.
"You have a very organize operation here, Lucille," Walker congratulated her as genially as he could manage.
"Well, we're not the navy or anything, but we like to try," she beamed.
"Is that so?" Walker asked, peering out the thick bulkhead window in the lounge, just over a card table. Out past there, clear of the arms and gantries, he could see OZ-06SMS 'Space Leos' in cautious, careful maneuvers. They had no squadron markings or insignia, and were finished in a gunmetal grey with a blue polish—the same gunmetal grey as MO-V's main structural torus.
"Well, we know how to protect ourselves," she assured him quickly. "You have to be careful out here, even without the Alliance."
Sernan gave a laugh. "I'd thought out here, you traded the Alliance for banditry!" he observed.
Lucille gave him a cool, no-nonsense look, as Walker coughed into a white glove. "As I said, everything looks quite in order here."
IX
The security detail around Luxembourg City's Grand Ducal Palace had subtly increased, both from the OZ Earth Army's Guard of Honor and plainclothes Romefeller Foundation security personnel. The Duke of Liechtenstein met with his colleagues on the Foundation's board, including his nephew, the Count of Nuenburg.
"The Yuy Foundation has been anxious to help us, particularly on area of establishing order following the collapse of the Winner Corporation's plutocracy. Both the first and second Lagrangian Congresses have approved of a collective intervention by colonial militia forces."
"Very well done, Cousin Treize. Outer Space has come close to accepting OZ," Dermail Catalonia exclaimed from behind his desk.
"So it seems," Treize Khushrenada said in agreement.
"And Colonel Une's achievements have been impressive, formalizing relations with one colony after another."
"We still hope that the sense of independence that comes with building a nation in Outer Space will lead to a mindset encouraging productivity and defense," Treize elaborated.
"And this leads to the nation developing a military," Duke Dermail finished for him. "The end result will be every country on Earth seeking military parity. They'll practically be begging for OZ's leadership. It's beautiful, Treize, you've managed to integrate Outer Space into the Romefeller Foundation."
"Excuse me, sir!"
Another Foundation official approached his desk and he turned to him. "Ah, Mr. Tubarov. Have you finished packing?"
"Yes I have." Colonel Tubarov Villemont turned his head slightly and glanced at Treize blankly. Treize stared back at him.
The Duke cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "Tubarov is heading for Outer Space to personally oversee mobile doll production, expanding military strength on the frontier. I've written Une, and she's accepted the addition."
"Lady Une did?" Treize asked.
"I think Colonel Une is quite pleased with the mobile dolls," Tubarov pointed out.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Will you gentlemen excuse me?" Treize asked as he departed. Tubarov followed suit, leaving through another door as uniformed officer appeared for the Duke.
"Ah, Tal, you have the reports?"
Flight Officer Tal nodded. "Yes sir, Your Grace." Reaching into his leather briefcases, he laid out two bound founders, both bearing the Military Commissariat Emblem. The Duke strummed his fingers against his desk for a few minutes. "You know something about mobile dolls, don't you, son?"
"A little, Your Grace. I was with Colonel Villemont at Ruhr Valley."
Dermail sighed. "Right, that incident. To tell you the truth, I've been trying to keep those two apart, and it's becoming tiresome. Hopefully Colonel Une will be more agreeable than my nephew."
"Is that why he's leaving for Outer Space now, Your Grace?"
"It can be good to bring things to the light. Apparently the two have been having a little competition over military technology. Now they're going to have to learn to play nicely with one another. They're in the military, after all."
Dermail frowned under his mustache, leaving Tal to stand in silence, unsure if he should speak.
"Was there anything else, Tal?"
"I-...apologies, Your Grace. Miss Dorothy is also here to see you, sir."
Dermail made the same sighing noise and nodded. "Please have some tea brought up for us."
In the New Castle in neighboring Ansembourg that evening, OZ's commander-in-chief waited for his household staff to retire for the evening before opening a direct audio and video link with the OZ Legation in L1-C-102.
"This is Lady Une. Your Excellency, it's been a while since we last spoke," Une greeted him.
Treize coughed uncomfortably. There was something about seeing Une in civilian dress that caught him off guard. "Lady Une…"
"I almost convinced myself that you'd be joining Chief Engineer Villemont on his trip to Outer Space."
"Yes, I wanted to speak to you about that. Just how exactly do you plan to use the Mobile Doll troops?"
"I plan to use them as your soldiers in such a way that it won't cause you grief," she explained without missing a beat.
"My soldiers?" Treize asked, raising an eyebrow.
Une almost giggled. "You're not being fair, Your Excellency. You are the person who must lead this world. Instead, you've let it fall into a state of utter confusion. I came to Outer Space to be of assistance to you, and I've laid out a new future for you, Your Excellency."
"Fighting will never disappear from this world, in which case, the strongest will inevitably be the ones to rule. It's a simple fact that people feel the need to be controlled by others, whether they'd ever admit it. It's natural for the world to encourage fighting for that reason. "
"But that only leads to more bloodshed. Your Excellency, you are capable of loving all people. You have a heart that can make you a god, you'll create peace on Earth from here, in space."
Treize leaned forward in his chair, his hands together. "My Lady, you're only thinking of your ideal of me when you see that future," he explained before standing up.
"It's what you've wanted, Your Excellency."
"My desires are just the fantasy of a single individual. History is the accumulation of daily lives. I have no interest in an individual's future."
"But your future has already been determined: your future is here in Outer Space."
Strolling to his window, Treize turned back, his voice tightening. "Lady Une, I'm not as strong as you think I am. Zechs and the Gundam pilots are making an effort to construct a new future as we speak. There's no need to hurry, history will repeat itself." He paused. "My Lady, please come back to me. The Lady Une I used to be so fond of."
In the Grand Ducal Palace, Duke Dermail had finished tea with his granddaughter, who insisted upon lingering about in his office. Tal entered the office again, bowing politely in front of Dorothy Catalonia, who simply smiled at him from her plush seat.
"Your Grace, a call from Barge, from a Flight Officer Tycho Nichol."
Dermail nodded. "Put it through immediately, Tal."
Dorothy leaned towards her grandfather, her face beaming with curiosity. "Who is that, Grandfather?"
"A reliable officer on Lady Une's staff," he explained, unfolding the screen for the video terminal built seamlessly into his desk.
"Your Grace, Nichol from Barge here. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Go ahead, Nichol, get to the point," Dermail insisted. "Did you confirm it was Zechs Merquise?"
"Yes, it's Zechs Merquise without question."
"So Zechs is in Outer Space now, is he?"
"Yes, Your Grace, establishing relations with the military colonies of the former Alliance."
"Nichol, as I'm sure you know, it's paramount that OZ destroy the Alliance Space Forces. There's no reason to leave them running about like this, especially with the addition of the Mobile Doll Troops."
"Yes sir."
"I've also sent Une the requests of the World Assembly government. Let her know I'd like her comments on them."
"Of course, sir."
Dermail closed the link and turned to Dorothy, who was still beaming at him over an empty cup of tea. Dorothy had a habit of lingering, turning afternoon tea into an all-day affair, especially when he didn't find an excuse to fob her off. "I take it you're happy about this Zechs business?" he asked a little indignantly. The trick with Dorothy, he found, was to find the right tone to address her with. She was much too intelligent for her own good.
"Of course I am! What a shame it'd be to lose such a great warrior!" Dorothy practically sang. "Isn't that true, Grandfather?"
"That sounds like something your father would have said. You really should be more careful than he was, Dorothy."
X
In one of L1-D-120's military hangars, a full platoon of Alliance Space Forces engineers stared at Tallgeese, resting on a shuttle booster, in wonder. Some distance away in D-120's weather control center, the elder Septim greeted his guest.
"Welcome, Ambassador. I believe we were enemies in the past, but changes in wartime bring changes in loyalties."
"I care deeply for Earth, just as the Alliance does," Millardo Peacecraft replied, to the surprise of General Septim behind him.
"I heard you came from Earth to discuss the arms buildup in colonial space."
Millardo nodded slightly. "If this simply involved a new military state forming, I wouldn't be that worried," he said, rather unconvincingly. "However, if they're being deceived by OZ, then I can't ignore this turn."
General Septim looked at the much smaller, much younger man. "OZ intends to use space as an industrial base for military might."
"Which would worsen the already severe wars on Earth, with serious casualties."
"How do you feel about the colonial population, Mr. Peacecraft?" the elder Septim asked.
"The teachings of their great leader, the late Heero Yuy, still exist. Outer space once thrived as its own world, tainted by neither Earth's history nor its need for arms."
At the console behind Gwinter Septim I, an on-duty officer barely stifled a laugh.
"The colonies set an example for peace on Earth."
"They set an example…" Septim repeated. "If only people out here had heard that sooner, perhaps they wouldn't have changed their minds."
"Why not tell Mr. Peacecraft about the state of colony politics?" his grandson asked. "Why it's so crucial we remain in space!"
"The reason you've stayed here?" Millardo asked.
"Indeed. When the Alliance was defeated by OZ on Earth, our first thought was to surrender the Space Forces. But we realized that our surrender would leave the colonies in chaos. You see, sir, the space colonies are a realm of precise calculations," he explained, gazing at a screen before him. "This particular installation has always monitored the state of the colony's habitable zone. Colony rotational speed, atmospheric conditions, weather management. Natural phenomena that are taken for granted as uncontrollable on Earth are generated by machinery controlled by humans. Living in this sort of world takes a certain awareness.
He turned to him. "Ironically, it breeds insecurity. It's the only way to live here. And insecure people seek weapons to give them a sense of security."
"How can people discard that sense of insecurity?"
"By attacking Earth in their search for stability. Ironic, isn't it?" he warned grimly. A general alarm siren blared, as the younger Septim glanced at his mobile.
"It looks like OZ has decided to respond to Operation 'Dunkirk' finally. It looks like a harasser force, mobile suit carriers. We'll prepare our counterattack!"
"I'd like to join your counterattack!" Millardo announced, too quickly.
"A goodwill ambassador can't engage in a military conflict, surely you must know this!"
"I know the risks…"
"I'm not certain you do," Septim shouted back. "Contact Arroway, tell her to muster her troops!"
His grandfather turned back to Millardo. "Perhaps we can show you what we're still capable of."
XI
Floating through the main corridor of the construction arm extended outwards from MO-V, Lucille looked through a thick window into the dining compartment, where he saw the two OZ engineers sitting with MO-V's representative, Ryoga Herman. The representative, wearing another tacky-patterned three-piece suit, kept insisting the other engineers try items from the full-course breakfast he'd prepared for them.
On the other side of the glass, Sernan and Walker tried to turn down his generosity, which Herman would have nothing of. "You have to try this soufflé, Lieutenant, I insist! You don't get soufflé like this on Earth!"
"It smells delicious, Your Honor, but really, you're too kind…"
"It rises differently, you see?"
Lucille laughed at the sight before continuing on her way through the through fare. A relaxingly-paced breakfast later, the two emerged with the representative smacking them on the back from a joke good-naturedly and taking his leave.
"I see what they mean by humble," Sernan commented, adjusting his glasses.
"Politicians come in all types, even out here in the frontier," Walker offered, as the two took the guide rails and began down the corridor.
Sernan smiled at him. "You seem pretty well, sir."
"What gave you the impression I wasn't?" Walker asked over his shoulder.
Sernan rubbed the back of his head with a hand. "Well, I don't mind telling you why I'm here, sir. The division leader got word of my insomnia."
"From what?" Walker asked.
"I've been having…bad dreams…about the attack on Lake Victoria. I was there that night, 11 April." Walker didn't respond so Sernan continued. "So, they sent me out here on on-duty leave. Quieter than the frontlines."
He gave a sigh and force a smile. "And that's why I'm here, sir. A little mandatory on-duty vacation time." He couldn't get a response from the back of Walker's head, just the band of his flight goggles. The two said nothing further until they passed into the construction section.
Sernan pointed to one of the massive window panes on the observation section. "Look, the Jupiter."
Walker stared at the ship a few kilometers out from MO-V, closing in on the North Block between them. "Or one of its sister ships, yes." In the distance, Sol cast its shadow onto the large, angular prism, and a smaller warship emerged from the darker spot, followed by a boxy supply ship hauling a dozen containers. The two split up, the warship circling MO-V and the supply ship moving in to dock. "Looks like a Novosibirsk-class light cruiser."
"Good call. Maybe the Yakutsk?"
"It could be. Or the Ufa." Walker grabbed a handhold to stop himself as he floated. The fleet really is scattered all over the place. "Come on, let's get to work."
When Lucille entered the construction dock again an hour later, both men were standing table display in an adjacent chamber, scanning past dozens of cross sections for the North Block, with subtle variations in colors highlighting the individual sections being brought together.
"It's coming together all right, but I'm still not sure what this is, sir. Maybe a military expansion package for a colony?"
Walker shook his head. "The shape is all wrong. And look at this drive core in the center going down into the ventral surface. Why would you want that for a colony?"
"An escape method? Like on that Winner Corporation resource satellite?" Sernan frowned. "No, but that's stupid."
He scrolled through more pages of schematics when Walker raised his hand. "Stop there. See? This is clearly intended to accelerate into military velocities."
"Well, maybe it's a replacement for the Jupiter Fleet. Something purposed designed. The armor superstructure might be for close maneuvering near Jupiter opposite tidal forces."
"Maybe. We'd need to ask an astronomer. That would answer the question of size though." Walker reached out and changed the page on the display. "You should be able to tell a lot about something from its power plant." At least, a good engineer should be able to.
Sernan put a finger to his temple. "I heard the Peacemillion-class is more massive, but they've been retired. There's only two operational ships anyway. EBC-31's had its primary drive reactor and propulsion engines removed, and cannot leave Earth Sphere. Same for the lead ship, if it's even operational."
"Making them the largest ships leaving Earth Sphere."
Sernan nodded. "I knew a colonel who'd spent thirty months on Mars. Retired years ago."
"Not on Mars, I hope."
Sernan chuckled at the joke for a moment as the wheel on the bulkhead door behind him turned and the door swung open. Lucille floated through, smiling cheerfully and waving. "'Morning guys! How did you both sleep?"
"Fine, thank you."
"And thank you for a delicious breakfast!" Sernan added quickly.
"Well, you can thank Representative Herman for that," she assured them. "He might be humble for a politician, but he enjoys showing off with a good meal."
Lucille laughed as Walker deactivated the schematics display. "Lucille, you're from the Technical College here at MO-V, right?"
"You got it."
"Humor me for a moment, please?" Walker asked.
Lucille smiled like a particularly smug feline, crossing her arms. "Of course."
"Civilian applications of fusion power rely on deuterium-tritium reactions, which has been around for centuries and consists of a deuterium and a tritium atom being fused together, producing a helium-4 atom and a high-energy neutron particle. Military applications rely on deuterium-deuterium reactions, where two atoms are fused to produce helium-3 and a neutron. The later produces more energy."
"That's right."
"And we use the Soviet Tokamak magnetic containment field design inside our ultracompact fusion reactors in mobile suits. It's a compartment about this big," he said, gesturing with his hands, "….with a number of superconducting field coils, a vacuum system and a central solenoid. And the cooling system of course."
"Of course," Lucille said, her tone jokingly implying it should be obvious to anyone.
"The energy needed to raise the magnetic field to a point where it can sufficient pressure is significant, but still several times less than the energy produced in the reaction, in the form of heat. That heat powers the magnetohydrodynamic system that is a very volume-efficient system of producing electricity for use. A large power station reactor uses a steam turbine and exchanger."
"Also correct."
"I also know that fusion reactors can be built with inertial containment by lasers instead of magnetic fields, and other methods. But while inertial containment produces more energy, it requires laser generators the size of large buildings, and is really only viable in large ships and civilian functions. And other methods are still largely experimental."
"Now you're sounding like an engineer in OZ. I hope you know more about military applications of fusion than I do," she admitted with a grin.
"What I don't understand is the fuel economy," Walker explained quickly. "Deuterium was obtained from the oceans. Tritium is produced from deuterium in old nuclear fission reactors. So what is the point of the Jupiter Energy Fleet?"
"Helium-3."
"Helium-3?" Walker repeated.
Aisely flashed a grin at him. "I'm not good with history, but about a hundred years ago, the market for helium-3 collapsed. For some reason or another, using helium-3 from Jupiter for fusion became totally unnecessary or uneconomical or something. The helium-3 that was needed came from deuterium reactors or Luna. The fleet of Jupiter-bound helium tankers, the biggest ships ever built before the Alliance commissioned the last expedition carriers, was mothballed. But they were still useful for colony construction."
Walker nodded. "And the construction of Barge as well.
The three stared out the bay windows at Northern Block.
"So you think this is part of a new space fortress, OZ's replacement for Barge?" Sernan asked.
"I thought it was, but now I'm less convinced," Walker replied. "It's difficult to make out with the naked eye, drive core paired with each one of those sensor towers on either side of the block. Compared to immobile colonies and space fortresses, which just have maneuvering engines."
"Like some kind of super-battleship?" Lucille offered.
"I'm not sure," Walker admitted. Lucille stared at his cryptically blank expression, eyes locked on the North Block. She couldn't tell if he was genuinely uncertain, or just hiding what he did know.
She laughed loudly. "Well, whatever. Maybe the next batch of engineers will have some theories. Then you guys, and those guys, can pound your theories together into something coherent," she chuckled, gesturing with her small fists.
"Ah, more reinforcements?" Sernan asked.
"Civilian contractors approved by your boss, Ambassador Une." She made an unconcerned expression, gesturing over her head with her right hand. "Apparently, we Colonials aren't enough. They should be on that supply ship that just came in."
She let herself float in the low gravity. "Even if she's an Earthling, it'll be nice to have another girl on board. I'm getting tired of forcing small talk with Dick all day."
The bulkhead door behind them creaked loudly as the wheel spun and Lucille easily spun herself around to face it. "That must be her now," she said with a smile, floating up to it and extending a hand. It was taken by the person entering the compartment, in the same orange-and-yellow work suit, with long blond hair crafted into a ponytail and a number of pigtails emerging from an off-blue headband. The other woman, the same age, shook it and flashed a sparkling, toothy smile back at her.
"Lieutenants, this is Rachel Nina Bishop," Lucille chirped. "I invited her personally from Earth for the job. Rachel, this is…"
"Hello, Rani. How are you?" Walker interrupted her, pulling his goggles over his cap.
The young blonde with blue-green eyes looked past Lucille, her eyes widening in surprise and then dismay and with her free hand, she shielded her eyes and forehead as she tried to shrink into her baggy work suit. Lucille looked at her, confused, then at Walker, still confused.
"You two know each other?"
Author's Notes:
I'm a little embarrassed how long this update took (I've been sidetracked with other projects and my two jobs, one of which gives me considerable time to actually work on writing typically).
Also, it's pretty clear I know the absolute bare minimum, or maybe even less, about the application of fusion for power generation.
We get a little more insight into the way Walker's mind work, and the appearance of more characters from the manga sidestory G-Unit. Hopefully, this is a good use of them into the general frame of the story, weaving them into OZ's rise in power from the Libra and from mobile doll production. This is a story about a former engineer after all. I'll have to make sure my next chapter goes up much faster. Stay tuned!