Soldier of OZ: Walker's Account

by Synthesis

In AC 195, five Gundams come to Earth in Operation 'M', testing the strength, virtue and intelligence of officers and soldiers of the world's armed forces. After failing his first encounter, one ex-engineer has a chance at a better outcome, and takes it. An effort to reconcile 'Gundam Wing' with 'The Glory of Losers', from the perspective of those in OZ.

37. Battleship Libra

Soldier of OZ: Walker's Account

Chapter 37 – Battleship Libra

News had already spread to Luna, past the First Lagrange Point, that an invasive strike had been ordered from Barge on the Area D of L1. The Lunar Military District's troops weren't summoned to join. Instead, sometime later, the order went out to sortie: a mobile suit closely resembling a Gundam was approaching over the northern hemisphere.

"Wait, 'approaching'? Not attacking?" Pilot Officer Liu Enlai asked, as Squadron 6 of the 91st Combat Engineers Regiment went on alert. The whole regiment had a reputation as one of the top Space Leo units permanently deployed in the Lunar Military District—immediate threats to Luna, particularly in the Oceanus Procellarum region, were usually its purview—versus the frequently-rotated Taurus squadrons.

"It hasn't opened fire," a voice responded over his black communication cap under his helmet, just as he secured the magnetic seals.

"Who spotted it, ma'am?" he asked while jumping into the air: in Luna's low gravity, it put him within reach of cable hanging from the gantry above, which pulled him up to the level of his OZ-06SMS and its waiting, open hatch.

"You're not going to believe this: the personal shuttle of one Colonel Tubarov Villemont."

"Holy cr-…acknowledged." Liu shook his head as he climbed in and began buckling his restraints. A nearby hangar crewman reached into his cockpit, flipped a bank of switches to power up his avionics, and then gave him a thumbs up. Liu nodded at him as he floated away. Another hangar crew officer cupped his hands and shouted, "Begin distribution of beam rifles!"

With his cockpit hatched closed, Liu took a moment to consider the situation while he completed his preflight check. It could be one of those close-range combat Gundams. If it were Zero-One, it would have shot down the shuttle already. We'll need to look at the data from telemetry.

"Spade Flight, sound off!" he said as the other pilots in his unit indicated their status.

A different voice spoke out. "All call signs, altitude restrictions lifted! Engage the Gundam and good luck!"

In the deep space between Earth and Luna, on the bridge of the EASFS Africana, Counter Admiral Arroway sat at her 'throne', legs crossed and playing with her fan. Ex-Alliance Army Major General Grumman stood next to her in full uniform, watching the fire in the distance.

"You seem very well prepared out here," he pointed out.

"That we are, Mr. Defense Minister," Arroway replied, snickering at her own joke. Having the Republic of Utah's Minister of Defense, and his secretary, on her ship courtesy of Operation 'Dunkirk' was humorous even before the coincidence of her own cabinet position.

"Well, you didn't think OZ would just end it with a few mobile dolls, did you? They have a fleet, and far more than that."

"Trust me, we're prepared," she smirked back. "And as your secretary pointed out, the longer OZ waits, the more time we have to dig in."

She leaned forward, her voice taking a much more authoritative tone. "Any reports from Khattāb's Flight out at the Ventei Line?"

"Negative, ma'am, looks like they're still observing silence," a comms officer announced.

"He's got the stamina, he can take a few hours in the field," she mused aloud, eliciting a chuckle from her older guest. "Tell him to return directly to D-120 while we're engaged."

"Aye aye, ma'am!"

Arroway's muscular XO turned back to her. "Sir, Soletta's flight has deployed."

Leaning back in her throne, Arroway nodded. "Let her have some fun, this won't be lasting long. We have much better pilots up here too, you see."

"Hopefully that'll be true when your colonies run out of fuel as well," the general replied calmly, a smiling forming in the corner of his mouth. "Or have you found a solution to that issue as well?"

Outside, Captain Soletta's OZ-06SMS 'Space Leo' weaved in and out of her own colony's defensive network, trying to lure the OZ-01MD units attacking into multiple fields of fire. In response, the Taurus mobile dolls matched each dive and twist while keeping their formation, with only the mobile dolls on the edges being tagged with fire.

"Shit, they're learning!"

"I know, Sabre 2-1, I know!" Soletta shouted back. Since they scrambled, she'd barely had time to throw on her normal suit, and her helmet sat between her legs. Using her AMBAC systems, a quick burst from her starboard vernier thruster sent her mobile suit into a controlled spin as it dove out of a Taurus' sights. Another Leo appeared behind where she'd been, catching the mobile doll off guard, and began firing repeatedly, scoring hits with its beam rifle.

Soletta watched the doll's right manipulator explode when a lucky shot triggered an explosion in the beam rifle's cyclotron. "I got it! I got it!"

"Great, Sabre 2-1, but watch out for…!" she began before she was cut off. The same mobile doll, unphased by the attack, threw itself at the Pioneer Leo and savagely bashed at it with its incredibly hard arm fins. The Leo spun erratically before suffering a fuel explosion, its pilot barely having a chance to bail out.

"All units, pull back further into the defensive field. Get in range of the destroyers!" The remaining Pioneer Leos flew backwards towards the defensive positions, upon which a lone Titan-class cruiser opened fire with its main guns, forcing the tight mobile doll formation to scatter.

II

At Barge, Lieutenant Colonel North and Major Bremer sat in on a briefing from a junior officer, recounting the events of 25 and 26 August in low Earth orbit.

"Our own findings support the Military Commissariat's earlier report that the Continental American Military District used biological weapons to cover their escape into Outer Space, termed Operation 'Dunkirk'," the officer said, gesturing to the array of Alliance units depicted launching into orbit.

"The Commissariat should have already received Space Forces report about how many Alliance troops were recovered by this new Admiral Arroway," Bremer explained.

North nodded. "We'll also need a new liaison from their office."

"Really?" Bremer asked.

North nodded. "Hopkins just checked out. The kid won't stop shaking in his boots about Millardo Peacecraft. Though on the positive side, Nichol looks nicely composed next to him."

Bremer raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. Nichol had sent two flights of Taurii out to 'observe' Millardo Peacecraft's rendezvous with the Alliance at D-120, his indignation not allowing him to just let it go.

"I'll request Luxembourg send someone up here. We have enough work to juggle as it is."

Bremer nodded, then looked over at the door to the conference room stoop up. He walked over to it, closed it, and returned to the table. "Do you think we're close?"

North nodded, glancing at the calendar hanging on the wall. 1 September, A.C. 195. "'Citadel' will begin before the end of this month. I've heard a second pair of Mercurius and Vayeate are nearly completed."

"I'm not really a mobile suit man," Bremer admitted. "My daughter knows more about this sort of thing."

North nodded. "Will Flight Officer Bremer be joining us?" he asked, tauntingly.

Bremer smiled. "Not if I have anything to do with it. Returning to the matter at hand, I can't imagine Colonel Une will be happy to hear about Nichol's decision."

"Well, it was hardly his decision to make."

"I could have given him some fire support from Barge itself," Bremer speculated.

"And then you'd have to fall on your sword along with Nichol. You made the right call." North shook his head as the door beeped and slid open, revealing Tycho Nichol himself. The flight officer looked particularly defeated.

"Sirs, Officer Nichol reporting in," he said with a somber salute.

"Nichol, how went your 'reconnaissance' mission?"

"Poorly," Nichol admitted, clearly embarrassed. "They were all lost. I'm sorry to have wasted a whole six mobile dolls."

He paused briefly after saying that, as if turning the concept over in his mind.

"They were just mobile dolls, Mr. Nichol," North said finally.

"I-I know that," he said, almost stuttering. "I'll tender my resignation if necessary, sirs."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Bremer said, quickly leaning forward while glancing at North's smile. "I think Colonel Une will be dealing with you personally."

Nichol visibly swallowed and sat down at the table. He still looked rather pained.

"The real concern is: Project 'Krepast' is well under way, but will not produce results usable on our time frame. Try as we might, 'Citadel' can't be delayed any longer. Thanks to this 'Dunkirk' evacuation, the World Congress is demanding we strike before something like this happens again. And Noventa is only becoming more entrenched with every day passing. I heard at the same time as your mobile doll attack, one of their cruisers was prodding at our outer defensive line. So, what can we do?" North asked.

"Call back all your best men. Forget these down-the-line projects, get everything tangible here now." He glanced at Nichol. "The same for you, Mr. Nichol, while you still can."

"Yes sir." Nichol rose from his seat and paused. "Oh, and one last thing sirs: Gundam Zero-Five surrendered to the Lunar Military District just a few hours ago."

The two superior officers looked up at Nichol. "Really?" North finally asked, holding back a smile.

"Yes. The pilot's being held at Luna for the time being, along with what's left of his Gundam. It seems like he never intended to assassinate the arriving Colonel Villemont, but surrender his arms. If you'll excuse me, I need to place some calls."

Nichol excused himself quickly from the room as North looked at Bremer for a few moments in silence.

"Can you believe how little I find myself caring about that?"

"I keep telling your comrades in the M.S. Troops, sir, the Gundams aren't the enemy up here. Half of them can barely operate in space, which you think wouldn't be the case given where they came from," Bremer insisted.

North nodded. "Neither can the troops evacuated during 'Dunkirk', but don't tell that to the General Staff." He leaned towards Bremer. "Nichol's lying, but what do you think of?"

"No idea," Bremer admitted. "Maybe it's worse than we think."

"Moving on, Armonia is already doing the same with her operational command of First Recon. I'll muster the rest of the Seventh Division." North leaned back in his seat. "Bradley's at L2, overseeing recruitment, but we can cut that short. Chernenko is still at L4 with Sedici's man Andretti, and Walker's out with Project 'Krepast'."

"You think he's ready?"

North shrugged. "I'm not a psychologist, that's Dr. Arai's job. But so long as he doesn't have to fight Ambassador Millardo Peacecraft personally, I'm sure he'll be fine," he said, convincingly.

III

Lucille Aisley floated through the outermost corridors of MO-V, being passed by trollies of shipbuilding components running on rails on the opposite walls. At the corridor junction she spotted Dick Hidasaki checking off a list as the carts sped by.

"Dick, have you seen Rani?"

"Ms. Bishop? She's...at the fabrication dock."

"Thanks!" Lucille replied, already flinging herself in that direction. As Hidasaki said, standing amid unmistakable assembly gantries for Space Leos, was Rani in a baggy jumpsuit unzipped to her waist, her long pigtails and ponytail floating in the air, despite being half-tucked into her bright headband. Over that she wore a pair of protective goggles, same as the others.

"Rani!"

Rachel Nina Bishop turned, pigtails bobbing about, and took a metal clipboard off the loose-hanging utility belt she wore and tossed it at Lucille, spinning vertically. Aisely caught it, turned it over, and review the papers attached to it. Rani, like the other independent contractors, was overseeing the testing of smaller components arriving from all over Earth Sphere and their preliminary assembly: the motors for a lift car, the distributor system attached to a power generator, and so forth.

"Each of these components will need to be tested, then assemble in its local subsection. From there, each subsection will be tested again, expanded upon and tested again. We'll repeat this until the component is either due for attachment to the superstructure or too large for us to work with in this area." That was the speech she'd given to the body of contractors that arrived to work at this part of the North Block, even if many of them were familiar with the common extraterrestrial shipbuilding practices. Rani was a little different.

"Hey, Number Thirty-Three! Watch your head, will ya'?"

Each regular worker, in addition to their identity badge on a lanyard around their neck, had the same information blown up on a sheet carried in a transparent envelope on the back of their work uniform, including a very visible two-digit number and their ID portrait. Rani was 04 to Lucille's 02.

"Looking good, Rani," Lucille said, all smiles, as she floated over.

"You know it," she rejoined, watching 33 duck underneath the controls of his crane, as a length of cable as thick as a human torso was pulled by on wires.

"Ever work on anything his big before?"

"Nope," Rani replied quickly. "Worked on mobile suits though."

"Good, good…" she said, watching Rani spin around in time to point a handheld scanner at a exposed power coupling floating by her, reading the barcode label taped to the side. "For a terrestrial, you move really well in space."

"Thanks!" she said, before using the furniture of the station she was working at to turn herself upside down and then throw herself to a lower level. "Come on, I wanna' check out this turret well."

Lucille followed Rani to a corner of the chamber, where they found a heavy anti-mobile suit twin-barreled beam cannon ball turret, upside down, with its generator column, capacitors, cooling system and power conduits reaching upwards from the actual barrel sockets and hydraulic motor.

"Man, how many of these things are there?"

"I've counted more than twenty so far."

"No, I mean more like déjà vu. This is just a supercharged version of the circular-mount colony defense ball turret. I must have seen hundreds of them in my career," she admitted. She watched as 37 and 41 carefully mounted the remaining turret barrel, turning it into the socket like a large screw with magnetized handholds. With that, the turret itself was completed.

"We'll start running the component test," 41 said as he floated by. Rani nodded.

"Outer Space really is super militarized," Lucille muttered, before chuckling. "Sounds like something your boyfriend would say," she teased, giving Rani a friendly shove. With surprising speed, Rani snatched her by the waist and their shared momentum caused them to spin, Lucille yelping in shock.

"Take it back!" Rani demanded, high-pitched but threatening.

"Let go!"

"I said take it back!"

"Okay, okay, I take it back!" Lucille retorted. Rani let her go, and being closer to the turret, stopped herself by sticking one of her boots into the grove between a bunch of power conduits. Lucille kept spinning until she was within arms' reach of massive pneumatic screwdriver, which gradually slowed her down

Outside the assembly building in the dock, underneath North Block itself, Flight Lieutenant Walker and Lieutenant Sernan slowly floated in construction-grade normal suits, watching civilian mobile suits at work. Less than half the size of their military counterparts, the skeletal-looking machines carefully moved assembled components through the gaps in the superstructure for installation.

"There's a lot less of it done than it appeared from the Jupiter," Sernan said over the open radio channel.

"That's usually the case," Walker said in agreement. He floated by Sernan, taking care not to get tangled in the other's tether.

"I see what you meant by tetramerous symmetry," he observed, pointing further out to the edge of the block. He spoke of a symmetry that suggested the block was one of four symmetrical blocks to be combined ultimately. "See the support axis reaching out?"

Walker nodded under his helmet. "At this rate, it'll be at least three thousand meters long. Half as long as Barge."

"That has to be the largest battleship ever commissioned. But frankly, I don't see how it's going to be a battleship or a dreadnought."

"Agreed. It'll look more like a space fortress." Walker said, before pointing his handheld telescope in the direction of a sensor tower being raised into position. Turning slowly to his left, he was interrupted by something; Sernan watched him let the telescope hang from a lanyard around his wrist and check his pockets, eventually taking out his mobile.

"You're getting a signal out here?" Sernan asked. The mobile slipped out of Walker's grasp and he had to leaned forward to reach it before it floated too far.

"Yes. We should, given that we're not getting it inside the satellite."

"Good point. Who is it?"

Walker took a capacitive stylus out from his left wrist then swept it down the mobile's screen. To Sernan, it looked like he'd received a number messages.

"Nothing, actually," he told him in that deliberately neutral tone of voice. "Switch with me, I want to get a look at that bulkhead section."

Sernan floated by him. "So, what happened between you and Ms. Bishop?"

Walker held back a sigh and resumed looking through the telescope. "You have a lot of questions today, don't you?" He glanced to the left as some machinery approached."Why don't you bother Mr. Bernett?"

"Please, sirs, 'Bernett' is fine. It sounds like you're talking to my father." This came from the pilot of an approaching construction mobile suit, with its pilot visible in his normal suit. Odin Bernett came to halt on top of the utility transport that both officers were tethered to.

Sernan gave an apologetic chuckle. "Sorry about that."

"Bother me about what?"

"Nothing really."

"Sernan was curious if there was some history between myself and Rachel Nina Bishop." Sernan glanced at Walker in surprise.

"Oh, you mean Lucille's new partner." Bernett laughed. "Well, if I know Lucille, I'm sure Ms. Bishop won't get much in edgewise."

He continued laughing and then stopped as he floated up to them. "Don't tell her I said that."

Both men murmured their quick agreement. "You two seem to have some history, actually," Walker said, aiming his telescope in another direction.

"Me and Lucille? I mean, sure, I've known her since childhood, but everyone here has. We're a pretty small community, really."

"You sound proud."

Bernett laughed. "Well, I never thought I'd be helping build a huge battleship to help protect the colonies! I guess I am proud!"

Sernan smiled at the youth's response, while Walker kept staring through his telescope. Bernett glanced at Walker, then at Sernan, who just shrugged.

IV

"So, what are you in for?"

This had been Nichol's effort to make some lighthearted conversation. He spotted Second Lieutenant Hopkins as soon as he entered the waiting room for Une's office in the OZ Legation. He stood in front of tall window overlooking the city center in L1-C-102. He was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

"Hopkins?"

The Military Commissariat officer just kept facing out the window, shaking weakly. It didn't fill Nichol with confidence.

"Her Excellency will see you now," a lady's maid in a black-and-white uniform announced from the door.

A maid in place of a diplomatic guard? Is this the 'Lyra' I keep hearing about? Nichol stared at the woman, with her light complexion and dark hair in a short bob with precisely-trimmed bangs. He gave a sigh and entered the office reluctantly. Waiting behind the desk, in her full maroon dress uniform, was Lieutenant Colonel Une.

Staring at the Countess of Hanover, North's words repeated in his head as he saluted sharply.

"You tell her whatever you need to, Nichol. But say nothing about Operation C. Une will be kept out of this military operation for as long as possible. Since she's completed her design work at Luna, we have seen no reason to her distract her from her normal diplomatic duties."

"I understand, sir."

"I would hope so." North gave him a cool, largely non-threatening smile. "His Grace Duke Dermail seems to agree."

"What do you have to say for yourself, Nichol?" she asked, her voice a little dangerous.

He gave her a resolute stare, locking eyes with her own. "Lady Une, do you remember what I told you when you mentioned your belief that His Excellency, Colonel Khushrenada, would not join us in Outer Space, and there was no point for you to remain?

"I said that nothing could be farther from the truth. That no matter what, you had a duty as a soldier of OZ. That you were following orders from a fine leader, and that that was enough. That you, yourself, stood as fine leader above the soldiers, but your greatest strength was as a soldier and not just a commanding officer. That your place is not to guide His Excellency, but to serve him. And that that, more than anything, was what His Excellency desired."

Une didn't respond.

"I failed in my duties and will gladly resign immediately," Nichol said quietly. "But I am a soldier too. And I will not apologize for orders from the command structure."

"And those six Taurii you lost?"

"Five mobile suits, ma'am. The unit commander hasn't been confirmed. And I will assume full responsibility for all of them."

She stared at him. He couldn't tell if she would explode or smile, and it frightened him. "Tycho Nichol, you're dismissed from your command. Report back to Barge and await further instructions."

He saluted. "Yes, ma'am. I have only one thing to say, ma'am."

She raised an eyebrow.

Nichol swallowed. "Trowa Barton is an excellent pilot. But he is not at all fit to act as my replacement, Colonel."

"I'll be the judge of that, Nichol."

V

Safely beneath the grey surface of Luna and the Gundam attack a harmless memory, Tubarov Villemont watched his work steadily come together in the workshop in the Marius Crater Mobile Suit Works. He had barely had time to arrive from Luxembourg before overseeing the final assembly of the first units of OZ's first purpose-built mobile doll. A cursory glance at the unarmored frame betrayed this unique feature: in lieu of a cockpit module, the OZ-02MD had a man-size military bandwidth transmitter and receiver sitting on top of an OZ Type 02 Mobile Doll Combat Computer, in turn bolted directly to the casing for an ultracompact fusion reactor. When it received its titanium alloy airframe and Gundanium armored skin, the absence of cockpit hatch would probably be overlooked next to its unusual appearance: still a humanoid mobile suit, but distinctly designed for autonomous, unmanned combat. His antagonism towards Une aside, the technological fruits of 'Bliznets' were instrumental to developing a true mobile doll, rather than the autonomous drone aircraft-derived system on the Taurus, combined with the unpredictable and dangerous learning computer.

Virgo, the Virgin. Tubarov wasn't one for poetry, but even he found the name fitting. A precisely-made weapon, for the demands of a precise-waged war.

"God, it's already too top-heavy!" The chief engineer could overhear one of the technicians surveying the work so far through with a monocular. Next to him, gathered around the individual components, were the five captured Gundam designers, transferred to him from Une's control.

"Trust me, it'll work. Have a little faith," one of them, the apparent leader with the prosthetic eyes, said with a grin.

"I'll remind you that while these are for mass production, you needn't worry about costs! The resources of Outer Space are unlimited," Tubarov declared.

"Hmmph. He treats the colonies like they did in the old world, as something to be plundered!" the same designer muttered loudly.

"Let him be. We'll remind him of that one day," one of his compatriots, sitting in the seat of a mobile suit carrier truck.

"I'm sure you will," the same technician snapped in their direction, looking down from his binoculars. "How ironic. The colonies go to Earth to destroy as much as they can, and Earth goes to the colonies to build as much as they possible could. And you old men are in both sides of the coin."

"Whatever you're bickering about, shut it!" Tubarov ordered.

"It's this, the Gundam you've taken apart to steal for our technology," one of the designers explained, pointing at the tarp-covered wreck on the truck nearby. "It's flattering, actually. You still want this even after it's been trashed."

"That's ridiculous!" Tubarov replied. "We don't need another one of your ruined pet projects. Dispose of it if it's going to be a distraction."

"Yes sir, Chief Engineer, sir," the designer replied, mockingly.

Tubarov rolled his eyes. When completed, the mobile doll would mount a single, permanently-affixed short-barrel repeating beam cannon. Like Vayeate, its capacitors and transformers drew directly a secondary power plant carried in the right shoulder housing. Like the Mercurius, it featured an active protection system: four planetary defensors carried in sockets on the left shoulder. All Virgo mobile dolls would carry this same armament, though he was also thinking to the future, if a successor to the Virgo were needed, and programming had evolved to efficiently use multiple weapons. In the meantime, it established them as the obvious successors to Une's tandem prototypes, not the defeated Gundams.

The possibility occurred to Tubarov, and others working at Luna, that the Gundam designers might attempt to sabotage the war effort, either against the Gundams or against the Alliance, through their work. Simple and effective precautions were taken. The final Virgo design differed, subtly and unsubtly, from what the designers originally drew up, that in turn a response to Tubarov's own vision. Their role was conceptual as much as practical.

Their expertise is valuable. But it's not indispensable. And contrary to what they might think, we're not stupid. And while only one or two pairs of tandem Gundams can be manufactured each month at Marius, soon hundreds of mobile dolls would be assembled on the lines, to be deployed all over Earth. While the Space Forces under Une fumble for solutions to their problems with D-120, my machines will wipe out every last shred of resistance on Earth, no matter whatever desperate measures the Alliance uses.

He allowed himself a private smile. That will be Operation 'Nova'. As one former Alliance officer watched his dreams take shape in reality, another one watched his be steadily dismantled by logic as he shared them among the colonies.

"In the past, the colonies didn't have problems with their principles against Outer Space warfare. May I ask what has changed?"

Following its repulsion of OZ's attack force, Millardo Peacecraft had departed L1-D-120 for another colony on the edge of the Republic of Noventa that had flirted with both the Alliance and OZ politically, D-411. There he met in secret with the chief representative, a member of the colonial legislator and a mayor.

"A hundred years have since the colonies entered stability," the mayor explained calmly.

"Those concerns belong to a different age. Today, we can only avoid battle with a show of force."

The chief representative brought up a military report as a presentation on the main screen. "This this Sally Po, formerly a major in the Alliance Army Medical Service. Her 'Long March' rebel organization in Western China has opposed OZ. We also think she may possess two of the Gundams, Zero-One and Zero-Four. OZ's principle civilian backer, the Romefeller Foundation, is now the most powerful organization on Earth. We're wary of the Foundation."

He removed his glasses. "However, our self-protection is paramount. That's why we've chosen to accept OZ, it was the option that would best guarantee our safety. Armed struggle will continue on Earth, we can't just assume we won't be caught up in the crossfire here in space."

Millardo turned from the main screen. "OZ is keeping the Gundam designers in captivity. Those on Earth opposing OZ believe that OZ alone is changing the world into a dangerous place to live."

"I'd heard the engineers had already been executed," an official pointed out.

"We cannot maintain our dignity as a nation unless we have the strength to eliminate any rebel movements like those on Earth."

"Our decision hasn't changed," the chief representative repeated. "Please try and understand our reasoning, Ambassador Peacecraft."

Peacecraft seemed locked in thought for a minute before he responded finally. "I see. I thank you for your time."

The three officials rose as he departed and waited until he left to sit back down. "He makes a good case, but he must think we're delusional if we don't see that as many rebel factions on Earth are fighting national governments as they're fighting OZ."

The chief representative exhaled deeply. "He doesn't care. He knows what he wants, he just has to justify it to us." He put his hands together. "I've heard war materiel shipments to Luna from the rest of L1 have tripled since the N.E.P. was passed."

"People care as much about jobs as they do the war. And colonies about their food loan payments. These interest rates aren't going to stay low forever."

The mayor nodded. "I've heard the Romefeller Foundation's predicting an across-the-board increase. Too much fighting has shut down food production, and Earth gets first priority to its own grain production. Interest rates are going to rise."

"That's the problem with men like Peacecraft," the representative explained. "They only think of one thing: OZ and war, which are interchangeable for them. Meanwhile the rest of us have to worry about little things like unemployment and famine."

VI

William O'Brien sat in on the transmission to his flight lieutenant at Dayton Air Force Base, part of the Ohio territory of the Pennsylvanian Commonwealth. He was surprised to see how grave he looked, considering how much success OZ had enjoyed turning back the Christian States invasion from the west. A few minutes listening in established why.

"We've determined the biological agent was YO-448, a popular agent stored only in North America. So far, about sixteen hundred square kilometers outside New Jerusalem have been contaminated."

"And you think they might use it here?"

"Lieutenant, I'm not trying to start a panic, but you need to be prepared."

He nodded. "I know, I wasn't suggesting that. I'll check up on our C-B-R-N equipment. And obviously our mobile suits are completely shielded. Thank you for the update."

The fuzzy video image saluted sharply and vanished, and O'Brien did the same as his CO turned.

"I bet you're glad to be here, Will. You can drink and you don't need to worry about shitting your intestines out from ricin poisoning," he pointed out, pushing his glasses up. "Excuse my language."

O'Brien nodded slowly. "Yes sir. Why do you think they did it?"

"The Alliance? Who knows. Maybe it was some other Utahan group. Whatever the case, it is delaying the fall of New Jerusalem." The flight lieutenant shook his head. "We need a longer campaign here like we need a hole in a bridge."

O'Brien nodded at the metaphor as the officer's computer console beeped again and its owner leaned over. "Outer Space, apparently."

"Should I leave, sir?"

"Don't bother," he said, pressing a key. "Wójcik here, who is this?"

"Henry, it's Oliver. Am I coming through?"

The officer needlessly leaned towards the monitor and raised his voice. "You are, but the signal isn't great! How are you out there? Is the Seventh Division treating you well?"

"Well enough, Henry. How is Ohio?"

"Hot and humid. What brings this call, where are you?"

"A colony in L2, they rotate flight lieutenants in and out of this academy, keep a bunch of new faces for the militia recruits."

The flight lieutenant dismissed O'Brien, who stood saluted and left, while keeping his eyes on the monitor. "That would explain the time lag."

"Is it noticeable?"

In Flight Lieutenant Bradley's office in a distant colony, the response came after a momentary pause. "Yes. I thought you were on Barge with the rest of the Seventh Division."

Bradley resisted the urge to tell him he'd seen be returning. "Truth be told, it's more comfortable out here."

"Than Barge? I would hope it's more comfortable than a thirty-year-old space fortress," Wójcik replied, his image briefly overwhelmed by snowy static. "How are you liking your new diamonds?"

He smiled and touched his left uniform epaulet. "I'm not disliking them, even if it only so I could sit behind a desk for a few weeks," he chuckled when the door opened and a junior officer saluted.

"Can you say that again? I missed that."

Bradley looked up at the junior officer, then at the worsening video on his monitor. "There must be some a dropped signal relay or some cosmic interference. I'll speak to you again, Henry."

"Powodzenia," the other voice said before cutting out entirely.

"Is now a bad time, Flight Lieutenant?"

Bradley shook his head and stood up. "No, not at all, Miss…"

"Schbeiker sir," the young pilot officer explained.

"Ms. Schbeiker. How can I help you?"

The militia pilot in a colonial-cut hunter green uniform nodded and presented him with a maroon plastic binder, which he opened. "The applicants for next week's qualifying exams, sir."

"Thank you, I'll sign off on those," he said, sitting back down, opening the binder and taking out the filled-out sheets while leaving the blanks.

Schbeiker smile at him warmly. "If you don't mind me saying, you make a good desk jockey, sir."

He looked up at her, feigning distress while he handed back the binder. "Well, someone has to. The other flight lieutenants and captains have speeches to give and exercises to run." Not including himself, there were more than a half-dozen flight lieutenants from the Mobile Suit Troops and captains from the Space Navy at the now-reopened Alliance Academy. "Please don't tell any of them I said that."

"Of course not, sir."

"I don't like these new uniforms," Bradley muttered as he began reading each sheet.

"Really, sir? I like them."

He raise an eyebrow. "They don't remind you of the ancient regime?"

"Well, sir, everything starts from somewhere, doesn't it?"

Bradley waited for her to leave before falling back into his seat and shaking his head. "I really don't understand Colonials," he muttered.

In the academy's main concourse, Schbeiker shielded her eyes from the bright lights of the artificial sky visible through the bay windows. Past a trio of senior officers, a video monitor set to ESPAN replayed a speech given by a pro-OZ envoy from Luna.

"Soon, we will no longer live within the threatening reach of D-120. With the help of Commander-in-Chief Treize Khushrenada and Colonel Une, this will mark the beginning of a new era in Outer Space."

"What a bunch of crap," someone muttered. "They're the ones who planted the fear of war in everyone to begin with."

Schbeiker turned to the speaker: a Caucasian boy in dressed in black with sunglasses, reclining in a chair on the edge of the concourse. "That's not true," she countered, putting a hand on her hip. "The colonies have suffered a history of humiliation. We're ready to fight to protect ourselves now."

He looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses. "And who are you?"

VII

In the cockpit of her OZ-12SMS 'Taurus', Kaneshiro Kanna watched as a flight of three Taurii raced ahead of her own, firing from a loose delta formation, Colony L1-D-1777 looming before them in an otherwise dark patch of space. They unleashed a barrage on a minefield on the outermost perimeter of the colony, breaking off before the defensive fire began in retaliation.

"Mobile doll, move to cover the Winthrop Flight!"

Obediently, the third mobile suit in their flight left formation and move into position to distract the long-range defensive fire. The beam turrets on the defensive platform turned their attention to it and continued firing.

Winthrop Flight's leader settled into a new vector. "Archer 1-3, get back into formation! Let the cruiser do its job!"

"Affirmative, sorry ma'am!"

"Archer 2-1, come in!"

Kanna turned her head right in her cockpit, then checked her system readouts. "Archer 2-1 to Archer 1-1, can you hear me?"

"Acknowledged. Kaneshiro, bug out and go around, heading zero-nine-for. Watch for stragglers."

"Affirmative. Archer 2-2, Archer 2-3, regroup on me."

As Fight Officer Mazuri and the mobile doll closed in on her, she got a brief glimpse of OZSS Europa, BC-80, accelerating into position, its four massive double-barreled beam cannons turning a few degrees each. Immediately, they fired in two bursts, vertical and horizontal pairings sending bright, blinding streaks of yellow-white down in the direction of the colony. A number of defensive platforms exploded dozens of kilometers away.

"Looks like that information from the Hundred-First Intelligence Squadron was accurate. The Alliance is rotating its peripheral defense from colony to colony."

"Archer 2-2, cut the chatter," Kanna ordered, pressing a key on one of her MFDs and bringing up the communications controls. She switched to a point-to-point transmission. "Mazuri, were you able to find out what happened to Nichol?"

This response came back after a delay. "I think so. Une sacked him."

Despite herself, Kanna whispered. "You're kidding! Just for following orders?"

"I don't think they stripped his rank, but he's now adjutant to Major Bremer on Barge."

Kanna checked her artificial horizon before putting a gloved hand to her helmet. "Une's lost it. The commander-in-chief of OZ Space Forces is totally off her meds."

The Europa continued onwards, defensive fire bouncing harmlessly off its thick armor. Its anti-aircraft armament began raining fire directly ahead as the colony's defense fighters raced forward to meet it.

"That may be true," Mazuri admitted calmly. "Let's just hope she's not needed."

Racing ahead of them, the Europa dove at the colony like a bayonet, firing in all directions around it.

VIII

Sernan found Walker back on MO-V, in the long-range telecommunications room in the docks, a handset to his head.

"Yes sir. I understand, sir. I'll inform Sernan. Thank you sir."

"Who was that?" he asked, holding long rolls of component schematics in his arms.

"Lieutenant Colonel North. I'm being recalled to Barge."

"Oh I, see, that…wait, what? We just got here!"

"Not 'we', Lieutenant. Just myself."

Sernan processed this for a second. "Is something happening with the Seventh Division?" he asked urgently. "Is it 'Citadel'?"

"Say that a little louder, why don't you?" Walker asked, managing his sarcasm to sound very literal.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Someone from Luna will be sent in my place, it shouldn't be an issue," Walker explained. "Good luck out here."

"And to you too, sir. I think you'll need it."

Sernan saluted and Walker saluted back, before leaping for a nearby guide rail. After a minute down the main corridor, he found Aisely and Bishop floating at a junction and waved.

"Lucille, you're here. I've been recalled to Barge by my superiors. You should see my replacement in the next few days. And please thank everyone for the hospitality," he explained as he floated by.

"Wait, what? Hold on!" Aisley shouted, just missing him as he floated by. "What's happening?"

"Military matters, I'm sorry I can't elaborate beyond that."

She looked at Bishop, who gave a distasteful shrug. "Well, some warning would have been nice!"

"As I said, I'm sorry, Lucille," he said, reaching another guide rail.

"Let him go," Bishop yelled at her. "That's how their operation works, don't you know? Someone says 'Jump!' and all of them climb over each other, asking 'How high?'."

"Well, if you know so much, what's going on?" Lucille asked.

Rani took a guide rail handle and sped off. "Don't ask, Lucille. Nothing good ever comes out of this sort of thing," she warned her coldly.

IX

The penthouse on the top floors of the Barton Building gave an unparalleled view of the curving cityscape of Colony L2-X-18999, a sea of construction cranes and concrete avenues. Dekim Barton enjoyed the view, which informed him of the colony's status in an rather artistic manner since the Barton Building's completion.

His granddaughter, Mariemaia, liked it for different reasons. The penthouse had been her home ever since she left the private nursery on the same colony; Mariemaia Barton was one of the first children to be born on L2-X-18999 following its completion in AC 189. It was elegantly furnished, a comfortable place for a child to grow up in the care of her governess, her nanny, and the staff of her grandfather.

"Ms. Mariemaia, if you'd like, I can take this meeting at work," Dekim Barton told her softly, smoothing a crease in his grey suit.

"No, grandfather, I think you're right: I should be more involved in our family's work," she replied politely. Her grandfather always called her 'Miss Mariemaia'. She sat in a large red sitting chair in the study, her grandfather standing by the doorway, arms crossed. One of the household staff entered the room in her black-and-white maid's uniform.

"Sir, ma'am, she's arrived."

"Send her in," Dekim instructed.

Moments later, one of Dekim's subordinates appeared. Everyone Mariemaia saw personally, except for her grandfather, could be divided into one of two groups: her grandfather's subordinates working in the Barton Building, or her grandfather's subordinates working outside of it. She understood that there was a world beyond these two groups of people, she just had no access to it for now.

This particular subordinate Mariemaia remembered because she was quite beautiful, nearly as much as one of the women you could see on advertising billboards from the penthouse. She was very tall, even next to her grandfather who towered over many people, with long, light-brown wavy hair, and she was very fashionable with her expensive clothes and thin glasses.

She very seldom spoke, though Dekim forced her to when she appeared. 'Maya' they called her. Mariemaia was smart enough to know that was not really her name, but a pseudonym, as a lot of her grandfather's outside employees went by. Despite being difficult to deal with, Dekim held Maya up as an example to some apparently less effective subordinates, which was why he was short with her frequently. She remembered her grandfather had once given one of his outside subordinates an earful over the piercing on her lip, something he informed her not to have on in his presence, and compared her to Maya.

The tall woman entered the room briskly, put her hands in front of her pinstripe miniskirt and bowed at Dekim before noticing Mariemaia. Her eyes flickered in surprise and she repeated the procedure, then stood there, silent.

"Well?" he asked finally, annoyed.

Maya clenched her delicate jaw and then spoke. "I…he hasn't responded," she answered in her usually introverted manner.

"Why not?"

Maya looked unable to answer this and instead took a step towards Dekim, flipping her mobile open and pointing the screen at him.

"What does this mean?" he asked impatiently.

"He has…received my messages, but he isn't answering."

"And why not?" he asked, hands on his hips.

"I don't…know," she admitted finally.

If I weren't here, Dekim would be yelling much more, Mariemaia thought, smiling at the tall woman from her oversized chair. Instead, her grandfather took one step towards her, causing Maya to immediately retreat back towards the door two steps, pressing her mobile against her breast with both hands.

"And aside from standing here, what do you intend to do about it?" he barked.

Maya stopped shaking and said something inaudible.

"Speak up!"

"I know…that Oswald Walker left Barge…a few days ago."

Dekim raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"

She turned her mobile back towards him, but kept it held close. "Message timestamp," she whispered. "If it is this long…it must be Luna or beyond."

"What was he moved for? On assignment?"

She shook her head, wavy hair moving about. "No, the rest of his unit…is still at Barge."

"So he went out alone. Another one of his inspection visits, maybe?" Dekim asked rhetorically. "Since you seem able to keep an eye on this particular engineer, you'll keep doing just that. Keep a tab on his movements. He could still be useful for the future, and in the short run, I think the Noventans would be open to negotiating if we had a technically-trained officer from OZ in our corner."

He regarded her with one eye. "It looks like you can be trusted not to act without permission from me."

She nodded quickly, and Dekim gestured at her while turning to Mariemaia.

"Ms. Mariemaia, I think we can trust her to provide a solution to our ownership problem, as well as a way to make the Republic of Noventa more open to negotiations. What do you think of that?"

Shifting in the chair, Mariemaia put both hands on the large arm rests and smiled. "I would like that very much, Dekim."

X

There was a steady downpour over Luxembourg City, but it didn't stop traffic in and out of Finder Airport. As a transorbital shuttle taxied through the rain, Eva Cebotari stood in the shelter near the terminal exit, watching a detail of airmen ran through the rain towards the mobile stairway. As the Tupolev shuttle came to a halt, its door opened along the stairway, and a Space Forces officer cradled another officer down the stairs. He was huddled over, halfway out of uniform, under a wool passenger blanket.

On the other side of the terminal, Edward Parsons, one raincoat in a squad of eight, splashed through puddles on the way to an identical transorbital shuttle. He was the only one not carrying a compact machine pistol.

"Flight Lieutenant Lee!" he said through the bullhorn he was holding. "This is the Military Commissariat! We've grounded the spacecraft, now come out and surrender!"

One of the armed men leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. "Right, right," Parsons muttered, before turning to the bullhorn. "Lee, you've been charged by the Grand Ducal Police with destruction of property and the rape of a Luxembourg civilian. You're not leaving Luxembourg, much less Earth!"

The group kept staring at the shuttle as the rain continued. Nothing happened, even as they could see the pilot and co-pilot inside staring back at them.

Parsons tapped his foot against the ground impatiently. "OZ has waived all rights to extraterritoriality! You are not a marine, this is not Okinawa! Now get out of the shuttle or we will drag you out, slowly and painfully!"

"At least we know he's not armed," one man muttered, wiping the water from his eyes.

"Tell yourself that," another replied, clenching his weapon. "Ever stormed an aircraft before?"

"Would you kindly shut up?" Parsons asked, cocking is head and scowling.

"The door's opening!" another pointed and yelled.

In short order, Lee descended down the stairway, dropped his luggage, then stood still as they descended upon him. Parsons took him by the collar of his uniform, yanking him down to his own height before brandishing his sidearm with his other hand.

"You know, I was looking forward to having these good men here drag you out," he scowled humorously. "I've had a very boring day."

Lee shrugged as one man frisked him quickly before kicking him in the back of his legs. He fell knees first into the puddle beneath him and his wrists were cuffed.

"Nothing on him, sir."

"Of course," Parsons muttered. He looked calmly, shook the rain from his sleeves, before kicking Lee in the back quickly. The flight lieutenant grunted but kept his balance, while Parsons leaned over, squeezed his shoulder, and with some effort tore off his right rank epaulet. Parsons glanced at the bit of gold and maroon thread and felt, squeezing it between his fingers, before tossing it aside.

"Give him to the Grand Ducal Police, and thank their captain for his patience," Parsons said, making a line for the nearest shelter fro the rain.

The raincoat-wearing officer saluted. "Yes sir!"

Parsons sat down on a bench, wiping some of the rain from his face and grunting. He didn't care for the weather.

"You seem to be doing well," he heard from behind. Parsons turned to see Dr. Cebotari, smiling at him.

"Well, the fun thing about human scum is that no one cares how you handle them," Parsons replied matter-of-factly.

"Looks that way," she replied in a deep, breathy tone as Lee was stood up, bruised and wet, and walked towards the terminal.

"What are you doing here, ma'am?"

She looked back at him. "Come with me."

"To Outer Space? No thanks, I like my sanity. It's one thing I have," he hissed.

She stood upright, held her arms apart and began walking away. "Have it your way. Keep fighting the good fight, Lieutenant."

Eva took a dozen footsteps before Parsons looked up, his hood dripping. "Are they going to end this farce with D-120?" he asked aloud.

She turned to him briefly, putting a finger in front of her crimson lips, before turning away. Parsons gave a sigh and reached his pocket, taking out his rectangular leather-bound ID book. Flipping it open, he watched raindrops slip past the plastic coating over his black-and-white service photograph. Parsons grunted, flipped his military ID closed and walked back out into the rain.

---

Author's Notes:

The Grand Ducal Police is Luxembourg's main law enforcement agency, just like its name would suggest. Plus, it sounds like something you might find in a Gundam Wing sidestory, doesn't it?

I actually really enjoyed writing this tiny bit of Mariemaia Barton, I was definitely looking forward to it for a while, given how much I've written in Treize in the past (and how little he's appeared recently). It was also fun to have the infamous Virgo Mobile Doll finally make an appearance, from the tech-side of things.