The Golden Age: Reclamation War

by Maderfole

Book 3 of The Golden Age Trilogy. How far would you got to reclaim what was lost? What would you do to get your old life back? The culmination of the epic story. Over two million words of history leading in, and at least a million more to go.

36. Path of Determination

Author Note: Well, lots of mixed opinions on the events of last chapter. I know Leviathan is pretty OP, she's meant to be, the Grand Chimera are closer to gods than mortals, though they can be surprisingly mortal too. But even gods aren't invincible, and there's a nice topic on my forums about the limitations of telekinetics. Its like the Great Endeavor... with the right weapon, at the right time, used in the right way, you can send even the biggest things crashing down in flames with just a single shot. But anyway, I wrote this one so fast I can't really think of much else to say. Though I can mention that while many people are making good guesses about plot points to come, your timeline is... way too accelerated. Each chapter corresponds to slightly less than a percent of the story's completion, you really think something like that stuff would happen when the story is only 33ish percent done?

xxxx

New Eden, Shores of Lake Victoria, Ruins of Victoria Spaceport "Urbanis", December 5th, Morning

This is quite a fine city you have here, Sheriff-General Hales. The thought intruded on Daveron's musings as he stood atop one of the many observation and communication towers that had been erected among the new trenchworks and defensive emplacements that had been growing around his beloved new home city for the past few weeks, ever since it was determined that the USN was planning for its first major offensive to culminate in the destruction of that self same city. All to reclaim a ground to space launch system that was little more than a pile of rusty scrap metal lining one of the nearby ridgeways, so overgrown with bloodweed and partisan ferns that not even the most daring of local children wanted to play around and among the maze of corroded girders. Perhaps it was a sentimental thing, more a symbolic victory than a true military triumph, a "hey look, we reclaimed one of our most notorious landmarks, go us!" sort of thing. And in the pursuit of such a foolish thing, millions of peoples lives were placed in dire jepoardy! Was it any wonder that those of New Eden fought back against the invaders from space?

Daveron fought to keep his face composed and his mind calm, and not betraying the disquiet he still felt for casual psychic communications from strangers. He could listen to the Wind as well as the next man, but that didn't mean he had to like it! Daveron had the suspicion that he was earning a reputation as a stodgy old fart, one of the sort that always bitched and moaned to the grandkids about how all the newfangled inventions were corrupting people and making them degenerates and weaklings. This despite the fact that he wasn't even forty yet. Sure, his hair had gone grey early, but that was a common symptom of men who took excessive responsibility onto their shoulders, and now his distinguished grey was shot through with streamers of dark green, like natural winter-forest camouflage, though he kept it trimmed so short it was hardly noticable. A man of many military formalities, that was definitely the foible of Daveron Hales, leader of Urbanis's emergency militia self defense forces. Old fashioned, in almost every sense of the word, as far as life on New Eden was concerned.

Which meant he tended not to get on so well with the more radical elements, especially those from other city-states. And doubly especially those from the notorious den of decadence and radical thinking that was Garden City, the Himalayan metropolis that fancied itself the first among equals of all the various city-states merely because of their proximity to Yggdrasil. Daveron had counted his blessings that at least Garden City was largely isolationist, they weren't much into bothering with the business of other city-states. But of course that had all changed on the night of Nov 10th, when the sky itself cried tears of blood and fire as the USN forces made their unprecedentedly huge drop operation. And so, though he disliked them no less than before on a personal level, Daveron was only too happy to have been reinforced by several entire Legio's from Garden City's secretive Custodian military force in the past few weeks, and he had been impressed with their willingness to work and fight for a place none of them called home.

He was less impressed though with their chosen methods of fighting, and he turned on his heel, arms still clasped at parade rest behind his back, to eyeball the man who had so brazenly come up behind him and sent thoughts into his mind without so much as a "by your leave". It was the man he had come to see as his opposite number among the Garden City forces, Strategos Regulus Gregory Nobotau, of Legio Ironhide. As ever when laying eyes on the Strategos, Daveron had to swallow a scoff of mingled disbelief and derision, that any man could seriously go to war wearing such a... costume! Daveron was as familiar with the defensive properties of Borealite armor as any other man, but any defensive value the armor's strength gave was entirely negated, and then some, in his mind by all the exterraneous crap that was attached to the armor, which in this case meant sections of skull, teeth, tusks and brow horns from a variety of Oxiphants and Ironhides, which made the Strategos look like a walking coat and hat rack every time he had his war suit on, which was almost always.

As if that wasn't enough, the armor itself was highly decorated with carvings and inlaid mosiacs of ivory and semiprecious stones in patterns reminescent of the hide markings of some Ironhide bulls. Honestly, anyone with half an ounce of common sense would be able to tell at two hundred meters that the Strategos was an important officer, while they could get within spitting distance of Daveron and they'd still have to be lucky to make out the dirt dulled rank tabs on the collars of his savanna pattern camouflage fatigues. In a grim way, it was almost reassuring... as long as anyone from Garden City was on the battlefield, none of Daveron's officers would need worry about being sniped, they would look like common grunts next to the trophy bedecked Custodians, no matter how high ranking the officer in question was! Strategos Nobotau slowly doffed his absurdly heavy looking war helm, made from what looked like the entire skull of a adult Ironhide, the bigger, tougher and altogether less tractable version of the Oxiphants that were a staple of meat eating diets everywhere, the descendants of Earthen cattle.

"Strategos." Daveron nodded his head in acknowledgement of the other officer, his red-brown, gold pupiled eyes guarded as he watched his ally. "Yes, Urbanis is a great city. It's come very far in a very short amount of time, from what used to be hardly more than a slum to one of the largest metropoli on the face of New Eden."

"And its thanks to the efforts of men like you and your militia volunteers that it has accomplished so much, so fast. Truly I have never seen such patriotic fervor in my life." Gregory waved his arm at the rapidly growing network of bunkers, weapon emplacements, generators, trenches and shield projectors that was being constructed in front of them and around all sides of the city as well, though most heavily on the side facing the open savanna from where the USN ground attack would most likely come. "My soldiers and I are in awe, I kid you not."

"Fighting to defend your home and your loved ones tends to be quite the motivator." Daveron agreed, his chest swelling a bit at the praise, despite himself. "But thank you for your words, I shall be sure to disseminate them among the troops. It is good to have allies who appreciate the nature of what we are attempting to do."

"The only thing better would be to have appreciative allies who actually agree on how to conduct this defensive fiasco, am I right, Sheriff-General?" Gregory noted wryly, noting the look of sour distaste on Daveron's face at the title, a temporary measure bestowed upon him by the governers of Urbanis during this time of crisis because of his extensive prior experience in leading a combined arms regiment, the Orb 121st Mechanized Airborne Regiment, in the years before the Eden Disaster and his conversion to become an Edenite in the wake of the Battle of Cape York, where he and his unit had been shot down and abandoned by the USN forces in the wake of the fiercest fighting Daveron had ever seen. Something he was certainly more than a little bitter about, to be sure, even as happy with his new life as he was. "The only thing we seem to be able to reliably agree upon is that we really disagree with each other's plans."

"No battle was ever won soley by staying on the defensive, Strategos." Daveron retorted with a sniff as he turned away to view the defensive works once more. "All the defenses in the world mean nothing if there is no time or supply constraint upon the forces of the enemy. We might hold them off for a year, but we will run out of food and medical supplies and troops before they do. Without a force to relieve or reinforce us, there can be no victory in this battle for us."

"And there is where I disagree, Daveron." Gregory replied, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Whatever you think of the "grandstanding" tactics of the Custodians, when we set our minds to something there is notthing in this world of ours that can shift us or make us step back. They will strike with all their might, and we shall take all they have to give and then return it when they are exhausted and overextended. We will win through our greater endurance. That is the way of the Ironhide."

"Pretty words, but they are meaningless in the face of the attacking force we face, which outnumbers us only a hundred to one if we are lucky..." Daveron countered with a sigh. "I don't doubt that you and your men will fight like the very devils of hell, Gregory. But there is only so much mortal military force can accomplish, though we be Edenites and they only Naturals and regular Coordinators! If we had three times our number, I still would not feel confident in our ability to prevail!"

"That's because you're a pessimist and I'm an optomist. There is always hope and always a chance to prevail." Gregory shrugged and smiled.

"I am a serving military officer in charge of what amounts to a volunteer militia, with my back quite literally to a wall behind which are sheltering my family and loved ones, facing the largest ground offensive in the history of modern war. I cannot afford to be anything but pessimistic, Gregory. If things go as badly as they eventually must, you and your forces can still pull out, retreat and fight another day. There is no such option for me and mine. We will stand here until the ground is soggy with our blood, and then we shall fall and be forgotten. It doesn't make me happy, but that is what will happen, eventually." Daveron clenched his fists around the railings of the observation tower until his knuckles turned white. "And you know what the worst part of it all is, Gregory?"

"Worse than the dying in vain and being forgotten as your proud city-state is razed to the ground?" Gregory coutnered, trying to deflate Daveron's black mood with some grim sarcasm. "Going to be hard to top that..."

"The worst part, Gregory, is that I can't blame them." Daveron retorted with a snarl. "I can hate them just fine, I can rail against them for what they have done and what they still will likely do... I know as well as you that even death is preferable to surrender to the hands of those monsters up in space, the ones who work for FEAR. But I can't blame them for this. It isn't the fault of the soldiers that we will be fighting. They are just doing as they are told, as they believe is right."

"They're wrong though. They are fighting for a corrupt and evil government that..." Gregory began to protest.

"Yes, that is of course correct. They are wrong. But are we right? Are we really right?" Daveron turned his gimlet stare on Gregory once more. "Maybe my men and I are, at that. But can the same really be said of you, Gregory? Not you personally, but Garden City. Did you not provoke this war with your attack upon Orb, that most peaceful of nations? Did you not set off a thermonuclear device in the heart of Morganroete, killing hundreds of innocent men and women? Can you really blame the enemy for being angry at being attacked for no reason they can see? Yes, what they've been doing to us would blacken the hearts and turn the stomachs of some of the most evil historical villians... but does that make it right for us to turn to acts of terrorsim in reply? I don't believe so. And so, while I will fight with everything I have, I cannot but be sickened, because this is a war that should never have been fought in the first place."

"This war was coming whether we wanted it or not. We had the choice of starting it on our terms or fighting at a disadvantage even greater than we already face later." Gregory replied, his face like stone. "For the record, I'm not sure I agree with the actions taken by Kunai and the Praetorians either. But Yggdrasil and the Consols backed him, and what's done is, unfortunately, done. Yggdrasil promises hope for the future along this path, and I have no other option but to believe that is true, because any alternative is simply too horrible to consider. I understand that Urbanis is less fervent in its belief in Yggdrasil than we of Garden City, but I do know this for sure... Yggdrasil cares about us all, about all life on New Eden! It would never lead us down a path with no hope of victory. And that is why I say that despite the odds stacked against us, there must be a chance because otherwise, I would not be here now." Gregory reached out and clapped Daveron on the shoulder with one gauntleted hand. "That said, Yggdrasil best helps those who act to help themselves, so what say you and I go over the defenses once more, and see what we're still missing?"

"About a hundred thousand professional soldiers and six thousand state of the art Mobile Suits." Daveron replied with a humorless grin. "That would be a nice start." He waved a hand at some of the Urbanis militia Mobile Suits that were helping with some of the heavy earthmoving tasks. They were mostly taken from the surplus military stockpiles of the FNE and ALU, supplies and material abandoned in the haste to evacuate Earth during the Eden Disaster, which meant there was about equal mixtures of aging Ginns, ZaOots, and Bucues alongside Strike Cavaliers and Strike Dagger JAWs, with a single unit of three Templars thrown in as well. All were painted in the colors of the Urbanis emergency militia, a background of dark brown and tan splotched with olive green, in other words, savanna camouflage colors and patterns that might actually serve to break up their outlines against visual sensors from a distance, unlike the highly carved and decorated Dervish's of the Legio's, which would never be mistaken for anything but a Mobile Suit, except perhaps an oversized decorative statue, at any visual range! "These machines are well and good, but they are ancient compared to the machines we will be facing. Even our greater skill and reflexes won't be enough to fully make up the technological differences..."

"Your forces will be stiffened with the inclusion of our Mobile Suit manifolds from the gathered legios." Gregory reassured him. "We shall have close to one hundred twenty Dervishes in the battle line, plus as many as ten Spectres and all four of the Wraiths! Aiieee, but you should see the havoc they can wreak upon the battlefield, the enemy will flee from them in tears after the first few exchanges. Its also rumored that not just one but BOTH Executors and their Gundams will take the field in our favor! Think of the boost to morale that will be, standing at the side of Kira Yamato himself!"

"I sense a slight note of derision in your tone there, Gregory." Daveron commented with a thin smirk. "Are the Custodians not fully pleased with the introduction of their savior, Kira Yamato, to the command structure? Makes you feel a little inadequate, doesn't he?"

"He is the Executor. It is not my place to either agree or disagree with his decisions, whatever my personal feelings, though I will admit you are not far off the mark, Daveron."

"You mustn't let it get to you, Gregory. He's like that to everyone, he doesn't mean it in a bad way. You must admit far too many of your peers could do with a little ego deflating at the hands of a true legend." Daveron's smirk grew. "Truth be told, while as anyone with Orb blood in their veins would be, I am ecstatic to fight on the same battlefield as such a renowned member of the Royal Family, it is the second Executor that concerns me more. Unlike many of you, I still recall the name of Zacharis Frost, and it is not with fondness. That... thing... is no ally of ours, no matter what you may believe. He is merely biding his time before he acts to destroy us all. I would sooner ask a FEAR scientist to watch my back than Zacharis Frost! At least then my death would be somewhat painless..."

"Believe it or not, he was actually quite forthright about his intentions, from what I understand. As you say, he is just biding time until this war can comes to a close, upon which time he intends to start a new conflict, himself versus the whole of humanity. The guy is as crazy as cockroaches in high heels, but he's very compelling with his insanity, it's impossible to look him in the eye and laugh." Gregory shrugged, casting his gaze upward, towards the storm clouds that brooded more or less permanently over Urbanis these days, the glassy spires of the city proper reflecting the light of cloud to cloud lightning bolts every so often. The clouds were not natural, or not fully natural, the product of cloud seeding and environmental control machines imported from Garden City along with the Ironhides, serving as visual cover over the city and its rapidly rising defensive works from the orbital observations of the USN fleets. "I actually hope he IS every bit the monster he's supposed to be, because that monster is going to be in the very midst of the enemy forces. The question that truly vexes me though, is..."

"The orbital fleets, naturally." Daveron joined his companion in staring up at the stormcloud grey heavens. "Could be two or more of the Incarnate class dreadnaughts up there, and more than a dozen Myrmidons as well. The city shields are strong, as are the defensive emplacements over our primary defenses, but they can't last for more than a few hours against a sustained orbital bombardment from that many capital ships. We have to devise a way to prevent or sharply attenuate the time they have to strike at us. Especially with their damned Tactical Augmented Coordinator program, they'll be through our thickest shields as soon as they discover the first signs of a field weakness in the projectors."

"I believe a temporary measure will be effected for the course of the coming battle. Don't ask me what it is, I don't know, though I would imagine it to be highly psychic in nature. We've been recruiting some very nasty allies in the past few weeks, beings of incredible psychic potential. High command just says that the TAC system will not be nearly as detrimental to our situation as it is cracked up to be. A more permanent solution is being prepared for sometime early next year though. That will be one trump card that is going to be discarded from their deck as soon as possible." Gregory stopped to think a moment, before giving Daveron a shrewd glance. "You mentioned being a former Orbite, Daveron. What will Orb do, do you think? We've heard rumors of a fleet headed this way from Orb's direction, though no recent sightings of any activity through the Carpentaria convoy channels."

"They'll be here, you can stake your life upon it. Or more accurately, your death." Daveron replied, returning to gloominess for a while. "President Durandel has a real burr up his butt for Orb, he wouldn't miss a chance to put them at the front line of a major confrontation. We could be dealing with anywhere from two to five Gundams and all sorts of new technology, in addition to whatever elite units the USN decides to send. I would not be surprised if we saw the Vengeance again, their so called "Crystal Knight". I am also especially worried about the new FEAR models, the Panzerdragoons. We don't have anything even approaching that level of firepower in a mobile platform, and those pilots are invisible to our psychic powers. They're going to decimate my troops." Daveron rubbed at the bridge of his nose with two fingers in aggravation. "I don't know if we'll be able to count on the vaunted Executors to do much besides keep the very worst of the enemy elites from stampeding through our lines."

"You really do see the glass as half empty all the time, don't you?" Gregory shook his head in mock despair.

"In our current situation that half empty glass is lying shattered on the ground, shortly to be crushed by the bootheels of the enemy soldiers. Keep your faith, Gregory, and I'll keep my pessimism and we'll both walk away happy, okay?"

"Are you sure I can't convince you to wear something a little more... comprehensive than those skivvies?" Gregory asked, changing the subject, eyeing Daveron's camouflage fatigues disdainfully. "Those look like they'd hardly stop a spitwad, much less a linear round."

"The object of a camouflage uniform isn't to stop bullets, its to prevent them from ever hitting you in the first place!" Daveron retorted at once. "Why don't you just paint a big target on your chest and say "I'm the commander, shoot me first" through a megaphone every few seconds, it couldn't make you any less obvious a target!"

"If you're going to end up shot anyway, Daveron, wouldn't it be better to do it in style and on your own terms? Let them snipe me, I'm probably the least effective warrior in my entire Legio, I spend too much time giving unnecessary directions to people who I've trained to know their jobs better than I do." Gregory thumped his chestplate and his helmet benevolently. "Besides, this armor was hand produced by no one less than the Warsmith himself, albeit one of his earlier, less refined works. You could unload your full clip at my head and shoulders and barely even make a scratch on this stuff!"

"I'm sure he'll be glad to get the armor back then, after your body is turned to semi-liquid by an artillery shell or anti-tank rocket, or after we scoop you fricassed bones out of the shell after you are burnt to death by napalm. Or best of all, we'll sift your ashes from the ashes after they deploy their nano-weapon upon us, that damnable MAIDEN stuff. Not a suit of Borealite made that can keep that stuff out. For that matter, you could be stepped upon by a Mobile Suit, or run over by a tank. Face it Gregory, of all the ways for you to die in battle, a simple bullet wound is probably among the quickest and least painful... your armor denies you that luxury."

"You are such a gloomy son of a bitch! I'm gonna go take a walk before you convince me to slit my wrists or to hang myself by my bedsheets or something..."

"Also slow, painful deaths that your armor won't save you from, good point." Daveron pointed out with a malicious smirk. "You might want to avoid going near the lake shore too, it would be such a tragedy for you to drown like a standard Oxiphant cow, too clumsy to climb out of a waterhole."

"You really missed your calling, you know that, Daveron?" Gregory grumbled, slowly settling his helmet back on his shoudlers, the armor systems taking the weight of the reinforced skull protector, the Ironhide armor having been the very first prototype of what would eventually result in the Praetorian battle plate. "Who needs an army, we'll just send you into the heart of the enemy forces and you'll have half of them drunk and the other half dead by suicide in only two or three weeks!"

"And my mother always said I should have gone into customer service too..."

xxxx

New Eden, Garden City, Praetorian Enclave, Vaul's Laboratory, December 5th, Noon

"Lilia! It's good to see you back, hale and healthy. I must confess, I heard you had been injured during your last mission, and the girls and I were worried about you." Vaul said, a smile crinkling his sweat smeared face, his shaggy black hair hanging down across his eyes, as ever. He brushed it back, an unconscious gesture, but it would only fall forward across his face again in a few minutes, to be brushed back once more the next time he noticed it was in his field of view. He was sitting at his planning desk in the main chamber of his workplace, halfheartedly eating a few ambrosia sandwiches for lunch, but his attention was still mostly upon his work rather than nourishment. Lilia smiled at his effusive greeting and stared curiously at the 3D image revolving around in the air above Vaul's desk, it looked like a cross between a oil drum and some sort of reactor containment vessel.

"I don't know who started that rumor, but it was way exaggerated." She replied, stepping up to the desk and taking one of the sandwiches from the plate that sat there, pushed to the edge where he wouldn't have to look at it much. "Come on now, eat your lunch or the girls will be mad at you. You can spare ten minutes to eat the food you need to help you stay focused for the afternoon session."

"I forget who is more bossy, you or my daughters." Vaul said with a sigh, before taking the sandwich and making a big show of taking a few bites out of it. "But I shudder to think what kind of condition I might find myself in were you not around to make sure I take care of myself." He took another bite of the sandwich, chewed thoroughly and then swallowed. "So you didn't get hurt then? I am very relieved, my dear. The girls would be devastated if anything ever happened to you."

"I didn't get hurt any worse than anyone usually does on a patrol mission, let's put it that way." Lilia grimaced as Vaul gave her the evil eye, since many a Praetorian came back all but shredded by some nasty encounter out on patrol. "You know what I meant. I'd strip down for you, but that might give some people the wrong idea. But no, really, the one who actually got hurt was Zacharis."

"The second Executor? The unbalanced one? I could have sworn I saw him in the hallways earlier today, he seemed right as raindrops..."

"That's Zacharis for you, all of four days ago you would have had trouble telling him apart from someone trampled by a herd of Oxiphants!" Lilia shook her head and sighed in recalled distress. "He was an absolute mess, anyone else would have died two or three times over, easy. Imagine, trying to take on a fully grown Wendigo with your bare hands and no armor, ritual combat or not! I don't know what he was expecting to have happen, but he was only a few seconds away from being roadkill before I stopped the fight."

"You put yourself between a fully grown Wendigo male and his ritual combat opponent? Dear girl, you're lucky to be alive! From what I understand, their culture takes those ritual combats VERY seriously."

"Well, yeah, they do. But I think Erk was out of line in doing what he was, he was really trying to kill Zacharis. Some sort of past history between them, however that could be, but that's what I sensed. He called it ritual combat, but it was nothing less than attempted murder. And I think the other Wendigo's were of the same opinion, certainly Erk didn't make a big deal of things after I stepped in. He almost looked relieved actually, it must not have normally been in his nature to inflict such damage against a relatively helpless opponent. Funny thing out of it all though was that despite what Erk tried to do, Zacharis couldn't have made much greater of an impression on the tribe if Erk had been trying to make him look good!" Lilia shook her head again and could not help but smile. "I don't know how he does it, but he earned their respect and awe using tactics that would be cause for war in any society I know how to deal with. And he did it naturally, easily even."

"Not quite as crackpot as he makes himself out to seem, is he?" Vaul shrugged.

"Well, if you're asking whether he is or is not crazy, I'd have to say he is. By the literal definition of insane, he very much a madman, category defining even! But at the same time, there is a brilliantly deductive and perceptive rational mind in that head of his, and don't you dare forget it! In the course of a single conversation he showed me something about myself I'd never realized before, but now I recognize is nothing but the truth! And he was doing that more to humor and mock me than because he was really trying! He is... not like anyone else I've ever known..."

"You sound quite taken with him." Vaul arched an eyebrow speculatively. "Perhaps he does deserve a second look then. I had dismissed him as nothing more than a psychotic brute, but clearly there is more than just that shell. But if he can catch your eye and capture your heart, I definitely can't afford not to keep a close eye on him."

"Hey now, you make it sound like I've got a crush on the guy or something, and I can assure you THAT is not the case. He is very interesting, but he's also very scary, and he can be a real dick to spend time around. Its like sitting down to a dinner of freshly killed meat with Hector, even if he's not trying to hurt you, he can and might if you get between him and his goals. And may the Tree help you if he does decide you are a real foe or obstacle! Erk may have cleaned his clock and them some, but before that he faced down dozen juvenile Wendigos and made them cower in fear with just two or three moves, taking down their leader and holding him captive with his own tusk! No Praetorian I know, not even Alex, Heine, or Haman, much less myself, could have so easily pulled off something like that, and never barehanded! It was amazing."

"You realize your eyes are shining and you've got that slightly adoring look on your face you used to reserve only for recounting the exploits of Kira Yamato, right?" Vaul pointed out with a snicker at her embarassed flush.

"Okay, so maybe he did really impress me, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a meglomaniacal jackass either! And he may be pretty, but looks aren't everything! And after what he pulled after I stepped in to save his life, he's lucky I'd ever even think about talking to him again!"

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself of this lack of infatuation?" Vaul asked her, his eyes twinkling at her shamefaced look. "You always have liked living dangerously, Lilia. I trust you're able to take care of yourself."

"That's the thing though..." Lilia admitted at last, her shoulders slumping. "I know what I can do, but I really think Zach is beyond me. He's like... some sort of... half mortal... or something. Like he's out of phase with the rest of the living world, like it can't fully touch him. How can I even think about making a connection with someone like that? That, and he stands for the complete opposite of everything I believe in. I don't say this about many people, but he IS a bad man! He is evil, like so few thankfully really are! Kira told me about some of the horrible things Zach has done, and Zach told me about more. It made me physically sick to think about it... but I can't just turn away from him either, Vaul! That's what everyone who's ever been around has done, maybe if only for self preservation, but still, he's NEVER had anyone to rely on! No one to trust. He may be evil now, but no one is born evil, he is merely the product of an environment so horrific it beggars any description I can muster. I've seen flashes of it and they leave me shivering and weak for hours at a time. So I can't just shove him away, no matter the danger he presents to me, no matter how hard he tries to scare me away or hurt me. And he has tried... and succeeded. He looked through my memories, Vaul. Without my permission." Lilia could not contain the shudder of remembered violation, both from the old memories and Zach's latest outrage.

"I've seen you come close to killing people for even daring to try and do the same, much less succeed." Vaul said, very carefully. "You've never even confided to me what truly happened during your late teenage years, and I won't ask you to. I have some educated guesses and as a father of two daughters, I don't want to think about it. But if what you say is true and its not really his fault that he's the way he is, I agree that lashing out at him is just like kicking a garm puppy that wet the floor two hours ago. It doesn't remember doing anything wrong, so it thinks you're just punishing it for no reason, and eventually it will fight back. This is a very risky thing you're doing, but you know that. I don't think I would do it, if I were you, but I am not. You are a very special young woman, Lilia, and if anyone can perservere through all the resistance he's bound to put up, it is definitely you. Just try not to let him kill you in the process. You're no good to anyone, least of all him, if you die."

"Yeah." Lilia swiped at her eyes with her arm, Vaul pretending not to notice the moisture beaded there. "Thanks, Vaul. I won't abandon him, but I won't let him dicate the terms of our relationship either. He's got to learn that he can't just do whatever he wants to whomever he wants whenever he wants. Much as he's never had anyone to trust, he's never really had anyone he cares about stand up to him and tell him he's being a creep either. He had no role models worth mentioning... he never tells anyone anything about himself or his past... he'll talk about the future for hours if you let him, but nothing personal about him or his past... I don't even know what he likes to do for fun, though I am sadly sure killing and torture are things he would list if asked. I think he likes collecting weapons, he didn't seem too impressed with the standard armory grab-and-go selection. He really seemed to have an eye for what constituted a quality weapon." Lilia suddenly slapped a fist into her palm in realization. "I know what to do!" She exclaimed, and then turned her gaze on Vaul, who shifted uneasily in his chair.

"I know that look. You're about to ask me something and you don't think I'm going to say yes, but you want it bad enough to ask anyway." Vaul said slowly. "So ask."

"He mentioned that if he'd had a proper weapon, a scythe like the one his Gundam uses, that he could have killed as many Wendigo's as need be. He wouldn't have lost to Erk either, not if he was properly armed. But we don't carry any scythes in the armory, there's no demand for them since its a reasonably inefficient weapon. Besides, he would just turn up his nose and snort at anything from the general use selection anyway. But if you were to make him a weapon, even Zach couldn't fail to like it." Lilia answered hopefully.

"You want me to make one of my mastercrafted weapons for this admittedly maniacal, psychopathic, homicidal murder machine you call a boyfriend?"

"I don't call him my boyfriend!" Lilia protested heatedly. "But the rest is more or less true..."

"You know I'm swamped with work right now, vital projects that could determine the course of the war." Vaul waved his hand at the floating image above his desk. "Nano-Plague deployment canister, in case you were wondering. Something to counter that MAIDEN stuff once I get a sample of it. And Kunai has requested a few be set aside for some secret pet project of his. The Indigo Plan, I think he called it. But back to what you're asking me, is to spend a lot of time and effort on a personal request when I really should be working on stuff for the good of Garden City as a whole."

"I want you to make it LEMIM too." Lilia added, wincing, knowing the expression that had to be on Vaul's kindly face, something between aghast and angry. Forging LEMIM was a dangerous and exhausting process, and not just to Vaul, but to his daughters, both Latents, who were the ones that encoded themselves onto the item in question, lending it a fraction of their Latent amplification powers. Any LEMIM item created by Vaul quite literally had a piece of his beloved family forged into the item in question, and each process had the potential to permanently damage or even kill one of the Latents. In essence, she was asking him to risk his daughter's lives for this. "Please, Vaul..."

"Lilia..." Vaul's voice was tight, his emotions torn between sympathy for Lilia's request and anger at what exactly she was asking him to do. "I..."

"Please, Vaul. I've never asked for a really big favor before, but I'm asking for one now. I'll pay any price you set, but I need a gift for Zach that will give me a path into his heart and soul, and you're the only one that can make such a gift."

"This is completely unreasonable!" Vaul snapped at her, crossing his arms across his chest firmly. "I barely even know the man, how would I even know how to make the weapon for him, much less do anything else? I have no feel for him, no memories of him upon which to draw inference from. It would be a hopeless task even if I were to agree, and I won't. The only times I have ever made LEMIM in the past have been at the request of the Consols, acting as the voices of Yggdrasil. My daughters lives are too precious to waste on..."

"You said it yourself, Vaul." Lilia interrupted him, her voice steely. "If I can't get through to him, no one can. And I can't do it without this gift. And if I don't do it, then even if we win this war we're in now, we're only going to find ourselves in the midst of another conflict, perhaps even worse, when Zach decides to winnow down the human race of all that sees that he considers flawed. The world and space itself will burn to satisfy his desires, Vaul, and I might be the only one who can stop him! But I need your help first, to take this first step, to crack the door open so I can get my toe in. The future of the entire human race, not just us Edenites, could depend on this, Vaul." Lilia paused and swallowed. "You have no memories of him, but I do. And I would let you draw upon them if that is what you need. And yes, I know that it would mean trusting you to poke around in my mind to find all that you needed, unguarded. But that is how serious I feel about this. This is not just a want, this is a need, Vaul. So please..."

"I understand how you feel, but I can't just..."

"Daddy?" A new voice interrupted from one of the side rooms, where the elder of the Warsmith's two daughters, a raven haired young beauty named Marissa, the younger being Ellie, both in their late teens, stood. Marissa had longer hair and was more slender, while Ellie was almost portly and had boyish short hair. Both girls were their father's chief assistants, and nearly as bright with technology as he was, definitely tinkering was a family business. "I heard what Lily asked for, and we don't have a problem with it. If Lily really needs something, and it seems to me that she does, its the least we can do to help her out, after all the time she's spent being our older sister, aside from all the other things she's always forced to be doing."

Vaul let out a long and weary sigh, though he knew that as soon as Marissa, who always spoke for both herself and the much more shy and introverted Ellie, weighed in on Lilia's side of things that any and all arguements he may have had were worthless now. The girls knew the risks just as well as he did, perhaps even better, if they were going to volunteer, he couldn't deny them their wish. All the same, he fixed Lilia with a gimlet stare. "It seems I've been outvoted, Lilia. You will have what you need. I will make for you this scythe for Zacharis, and I will make something of my own for Kira, as it would not be well to favor one Executor over the other. The last thing I need is for them to think I'm trying to take sides or curry favor. Come back in the early part of January and you shall have what you seek, and I promise you that never will you see items of such quality from me again. The other LEMIM items were duty, but this... this is for one who is as family. May this choice never come back to haunt you. Now, if you please, I am a busy man, now moreso than ever, and I need to get back to work."

"Thank you, Vaul." Lilia all but went to one knee. "You won't regret this."

"I hope not, because if I do, then it will too late for a great many undeserving people..."

xxxx

Far Space Expansion Zone, Several hundred thousand kilometers outside Asteroid Belt, Ronin City ISSA, Colony Command Center, December 5th

The door buzzed open and Ashino looked up from where he was seated at the central desk, holographic computer screens showing reams of important looking data on three sides, a scattering of paper files stamped with varying code classifications spread across the glass surface of the desk, detailing troop movements, supply levels and communication protocols. It was all very military, very "harried but involved" commander, as Tamar liked to put it. Even the little model figurine of the Retribution, with a wicked smily face bobblehead instead of the usual head assembly, placed on one corner of the desk, was a carefully considered and placed item, designed to show he had a sense of humor too. All in all it was quite the nice presentation, sure to give anyone who happened to visit him at the office the impression that this really was a man in full control of every aspect of every detail of every minor thing that might concern him. In short, it was a reassuring impression. It was also completely false. Though he did find the bobble-head Gundam amusing from time to time.

But truth be told he spent far less than one percent of his time sitting behind this desk actually doing anything of import to the Retributor's cause, though he could much more often be found behind it, sitting and staring off into infinity, letting his mind unwind and unravel a bit, or else thinking about deeper, personal issues. A buzzer on the door warned him several seconds before anyone was admitted, giving him time to collect his thoughts and compose his face, and take the pose of a hard at work commander interrupted in the midst of a thousand different tasks, but still able to make room for one more of whatever his particular visitor needed. The real truth of the matter was that except for high level command decisions and the creation of battle tactics and strike scenarios, Ashino delegated the rigamarole of logistics, supply, intelligence gathering, manufacturing, recruitment, training and propoganda to highly qualified subordinates, stepping in where they asked him to, following the scripts they prepared for him, making him seem much more of a leader than he was.

Which was not to say that he did not lead the Retributors, he was the founder and controller of the organization, its figurehead and most infamous member and its champion as well. But so much of being a leader did not precisely fall within his true talent or skill set, the part that dealt more with the eighty percent of time that was spent in meetings and listening to briefings and giving reports and whatnot. He wasn't so good at that, though he'd learned to fake it pretty well. Ashino sat back in his chair, the creak of the furniture due to a carefully degreased screw that made it sound like the chair was just some secondhand piece of salvage, when it was actually extremely comfortable. Another Tamara suggestion, to blend in better with the destitute status of so many of the recruits, who often fled from the tyranny of the USN with barely more than the shirts on their backs, if that much! His current attire of simple red t-shirt with olive green suspender braces to support an underarm pistol holster, tucked into drab black and white urban camouflage fatigues and scuffed boots was designed to show that he was an informal, approachable man more concerned with results than decorum, which was true enough, as far as the latter part went.

But again, it was a reassuring image to many of those freshly fled from the USN and its tie wearing, nattily dressed secret police force, Section Nine; or the starched uniforms and strict parade drill of the military police forces; or the ostentation and pomp of the Solar Knights. Here was a man who dressed just like any other grunt in the field, yet he was widely considered to be one of the most dangerous criminals, or folk heroes depending on who you asked, of modern history. It helped people feel they could talk to him like he was any other guy. Or it was supposed to help with that anyway, his natural gruffness towards strangers was attributed to the stress of being the commander of the number one terrorist/freedom fighting group in human space. Honestly, without Tamara whispering these suggestions into his ear, Ashino doubted the Retributors would think even half as much of him as they did, and he wouldn't have been a quarter of the symbol he was now considered, a figure in some ways equated to Lacus Clyne herself, at least during her period of resistance to ZAFT under Patrick Zala during the latter part of the First Valentine War!

Ashino could not help but blush whenever someone made that particular comparison, having met and had his life changed, in many ways, by that selfsame Lacus Clyne before, during the Second Valentine War, he was privately of the opinion that there was no way anything he did could even hold a candle to what she had accomplished without ever once staining her hands with blood, but he kept that to himself. Ashino fixed his lime green eyes on the face of the clearly excited young officer, his uniform jacket unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up, the flaming "R" over the scales of justice marking that was the Retributors symbol freshly sewn onto his shoulder, in place of an older, USN unit patch. The man held a data slate in his hands, which he presented to Ashino, unable to help himself from stiffening to attention in front of this awesome man despite having been told not to observe such formalities by his friends who had been with the organization longer. Old habits died hard. And when Ashino stood up, revealing his deceptively short stature and returned the gesture with a picture perfect salute from the USN officer's handbook, the message bearer felt his heart almost burst with pride, that such a great man would deign to cater to the sensibilities of a mere junior officer, fresh from recruit indoc!

Inwardly, Ashino frowned at himself, still trying to school himself not to respond with the habits of the military lifestyle he'd enjoyed ever since the beginning of the Isolation era on Earth, before even thinking about it he'd returned the officer's stance with quid pro quo from his time as a senior officer in both the Isolation and USN armed forces. Fortunately, judging by the beaming grin on the young man's face, Ashino judged that his minor slip up had been very well recieved for some reason, perhaps even the man thought Ashino had done it on purpose to make him feel more at home. "This is the latest status report on the war's progress, Commander Ashino, sir!" The junior officer said smartly, holding out the data slate. And then lowering his arm a little, so Ashino wouldn't have to reach up quite so much to take it, the young man's face flushing as if he'd somehow insulted Ashino by noticing he was considerably shorter than most men. Ashino preferred people to notice he was short and act like it, rather than pretend it was some sort of deformity and act like he was only hunched over or something, and would be straightening up at any moment. It really wasn't a handicap, after all.

"Thank you, Ensign." Ashino accepted the data slate. He knew he was supposed to say more, try and connect with the man, but at this particular moment he wasn't much feeling it. Fortunately, just the simple hand off seemed to have satisfied the Ensign's feelings, and he hastily removed himself from the room, like a boy fleeing after asking his first crush to the prom, regardless of a positive answer. Or he'd been told young boys were like that, normal young boys anyway, since Ashino had had more important things to worry about during his early teens, such as impressing the Doc and staying alive, two things that were closely intertwined. And avoiding his brothers and sisters, save for his friend Shani Andras, as much as possible. Ashino sat back down in the chair, the creak echoing throughout the dimly lit room, the lights having reduced their intensity again as soon as the door was shut. He tossed the data slate on the desk and sighed, loudly.

"You didn't do too terrible of a job of that. Granted, you said all of three words when thirty were called for, but then again, you could have talked about just about anything and he'd have run off like you'd just bestowed a million dollars on him personally." Tamara commented, stepping out of the room that was cleverly concealed behind this office space, one panel of the wall behind the desk actually being a hidden doorway that was almost invisible unless you knew where to look for it. Ashino tapped a control on his desk and locked the outer office door, a red LED on the outer keypad would tell anyone who stopped by to come back later, since the door was locked. They would think he was reviewing top secret information, and that would even be true. But mostly he didn't want anyone walking in on Tamara and him like this. Especially because at the moment she was wearing a bedsheet wrapped around her hips and clutched to her chest, and that was it. "We're going to have to work on that salute thing though, you'll never convince anyone paying any attention at all that you're laid back if you do that all the time."

"How did you know I saluted?" Ashino asked, running his eyes over the hinted at curves beneath the sheet, though it was mere appreciation for pleasing shapes than anything meaningful, after all, she had spent the night with him, they'd had plenty of time to sate the physical side of their relationship. And once he turned that part of him off, it didn't turn back on again for at least a day or two except under the most extraordinary of circumstances.

"I didn't, until just now. But I expected it." Tamara said with a crooked smile, stepping over to the desk, letting the bedsheet slide a little lower across her hips as she did so, though since Ashino was in "work" mode, she could probably literally throw the sheet away and sit straddling his lap and he'd talk with her the same as if she was across the room and clad in an E.V.A. suit. So very focused and disciplined, was her BCPU. Inhumanely so, though she would never put it in those terms. "I know you well after all."

"You do seem to have an affinity for my thought processes." Ashino admitted, deadpan, as he slowly reached up behind her and pinched a section of inviting golden skin, eliciting a yelp of such volume that he was glad the office was soundproofed. "But this old dog is still learning a few new tricks." He smiled as she slapped his hand away, her cheeks turning rosy at being so caught off guard by him. He was doing his best to be human, sometimes it was a lot more enjoyable than others. Letting the smile drain mostly away, Ashino picked up the data slate again and began paging through it, his rigorously schooled mind absorbing data wholesale, to be chewed over and digested more intellectually at a later time. Though most of a BCPU's implants were focused around improving physical capabilities, the Doc had not negelected the mental side of things entirely. All the reflexes and strength in the world were worthless if you didn't have the wit to use them efficiently, and BCPU's were often required to observe and assess large amounts of fast changing, chaotic data patterns during training to prepare them for the cognitive stress of high speed battles. It was something at which he had particularly excelled.

A little less than five minutes later, Ashino paged back to the front of the data and wordlessly handed the slate over to Tamara, who half turned to sit down on the corner of the desk near him as she sped read the data as well, a skill learned long ago during her rookie years as a data-work specialist for the Tiamat organization, a knock off of Blue Cosmos. Tamara was his second in command, and the person who truly had a finger on the pulse of almost all matters, great and small, that concerned the Retributors and their adopted home colony. She was the one who did all the logistics and supply work, who coached him on how to deal with the colony government, who assembled and filtered the intelligence reports for prime nuggets of information, and who handled the day to day operations of the Retributors military forces. She was a godsend, and Ashino didn't know what he'd do without her, professionally or, somewhat disturbingly, personally. He hadn't meant to grow so attached to her, but one thing had led to another, and now they shared the same bed nine nights out of ten...

"Well this sucks." Tamara said, interrupting him from his moment of confused reverie. "The war actually seems to be going well for the USN. The Eddies have managed to slow the expansion down quite a bit, but they can't stop it. Standard little guy-big guy fight, no matter how tough the little guy is, the big guy has all the real advantages. And in this case, a lot of other, big guy friends nearby to help him. There's not many little guys, besides a certain red-head, that can prevail in those kinda fights." Tamara smiled fondly at Ashino for a moment. "But on a serious note, this will mean we have to back off on propoganda distribution for a bit, if we press too hard while the government is actually being effective, we'll make ourselves look like whiny bitches and we can't have people dismissing our idealogical presentations like that."

"What about the disturbing reports, or rather lack of reports at all, coming out of Porta Panama?" Ashino asked in reply. "I smell a coverup of some sort. Something must have gone wrong there."

"And I agree with you, but nothing our intelligence agents have yet discovered illuminates what that something is, so we can't touch it unless we want to risk being labeled as just another bunch of conspiracy theorists. Accusations without proof are just libel and slander, and as "terrorists" we don't exactly have the moral high ground in the greater public's eyes. I'll have our people focus in on it, but we'll have to wait on action there. Next?"

"A gem. Orb sent a heavily armed task force to assist in the upcoming operation against Victoria, but they have failed to properly check in and some reports say the fleet has been badly damaged and even scattered by some unknown Eddie force. Propoganda, cover up or accidental truth?" Ashino said, lifting an eyebrow in query.

"Durandel does have a hard on for Orb, but I'm leaning towards accidental truth with a smattering of cover up. He can make up a better lie than that if he wants to make them look bad, if they got their butts kicked by something he wanted people to know about, such as any regular Eddie forces, you can bet it would be all over the news right now. Something went wrong there too, something that has even the staunchest Orb-haters among the USN high command zipping their lips out of fear. Any chance you could nudge some of your old buddies in the Stormhounds and see what comes up?"

"I can try, but Richard is quite swamped these days, since both Thomas and Cyprus are out of action." Ashino shook his head as he said that, hardly able to conceive of any happenstance that could have resulted in both the Lt and the Sarge-Major being taken out of operational status at the same time! Details on the true events that had occured in Orb during late October and early November were still extremely scarce, just some notes about Queen Cagalli suffering a major illness that kept her secluded from the public. An obvious cover up, but no one in Orb was talking about it, not even the staunchest of Retributor supporters. Whatever had happened, it was obviously something that was very touchy to Orb pride, and that came first, before any other loyalties, or so it seemed. Details about an apparently unrelated terror attack in the PLANTS shortly after the incident in Orb, where a respected PLANT politician had been murdered in her own home, was also being covered up with fervor, but something was telling Ashino that he just had to look a little harder and he'd find the truth revealed, and it was already making his stomach clench a bit, for whatever reason. This didn't feel at all like the usual Durandel cover up.

"Anything else?" Tamara probed, playing the familiar game so well, where they would test the analytical abilities of the other, hoping one would find a diamond in the rough where the other saw only pebbles. You never knew from who or what a brilliant inspiration would strike.

"Rehabilitation centers..." Ashino said, more like hissed, well aware of what a euphanism that term usually was. "Run by the Reclaimer Initiative, which is led by none other than the notorious Lord Atticus Djibril."

"Now there's a man I'd like to see in my crosshairs." Tamara admitted with a convulsive grasp of her hands. Though originally a Natural supremacist herself, Tamara's hatred was much more individualistic rather than genocidal, and people like Djibril, who persecuted an entire sub-race of people for a fact of birth they couldn't change, made her feel dirty and sick that she was in any way or form idealogically associated with the man! Some Coordinators were evil, murdering bastards, yes, but so were some Naturals. Genetic tinkering didn't make a person bad, that was a choice they had to make for themselves. Some lorded their phsyical and mental superiority over those less fortunate, and it was that sort of Coordinator that Tamara reserved her ire for. But a man who lorded his "moral superiority" over others while sanctioning the bombing of hospitals and pregnancy clinics was far worse than that, no matter his race!

"Two primary facilities, both located in Europe, the former British Islands. A dead zone as far as the war goes. One is a "work and re-education camp", the other a "detention facility." Tamara quoted from her recollection of the data.

"Slave labor and death camp, respectively." Ashino translated with a tight frown. "Probably with "research" oversight from FEAR. Those poor people, no one deserves that sort of fate, I don't care who you are. I've been an experimental subject before, and at least I was valued for what I could do! They don't even have that much protection, they're just there to live out lives of misery until they are too broken in mind and body to be of any further use, then they go to the other camp. The camp no one ever comes back from." Ashino put his hand on the desk, pressing down hard enough to make the reinforced glass creak. "I once spoke with the Doc about the Nazi's, the instigators of the largest world conflict prior to the Reconstruction War. They too had these "rehabiliation centers" and POW camps, with the same purpose as these ones. The exploitation of people to the point of death, and then their extermination. I asked him whether it was the Coordinators or the Naturals of that time that were more like the Nazi's."

"And what did he say?" Tamara asked, all but on the edge of her already precarious seat, eager for this little glimpse into Ashino's past.

"He never did. Shortly after we had that conversation he was dead, I never got the chance to discuss it further with him. In my opnion though... both sides were equally like the Nazi's. Neither side was any more evil than the other, they just varied in the particulars of their evils. However, the comparison is a little more clear cut right now. Those camps... I will not allow them to exist. No one should have to suffer like that. I don't even care if we expose them first or not, those camps must be dismantled. Their presence is a stain upon the existence of all that is just and decent about humanity!" Ashino rarely let himself get this fired up in private, though he often had to be seen in an impassioned state for the troops in public, but the slavery and death camps had really touched a chord in him, like all crimes against humanity did. Though he'd once been an instrument of that very sort, perhaps that was actually why he abhorred it so greatly nowadays?

"So take the Justicar and a few units to Earth Orbit. A little monkeying around with the transponder codes and we should be able to get us set up as a supply run to geosynch over Heaven's Base. Getting through the atmosphere will be another matter, but I'm sure we'll think of something. I could do with a little excitment and hands on intelligence work, if you know what I mean?" Tamara suggested. She saw the brief flicker across his face. "Don't give me that, Ash. You couldn't leave me behind even if you slugged me over the head and left me tied up in the bathroom closet. I would so come after you, even if I had to E.V.A. my way there!"

"God forbid I should be concerned for you, Tam." Ashino shook his head in weary acceptance. "It goes against all standard military doctrine for both chief commanders to attach themselves to a front line mission at the same time."

"And since when have the Retributors been a standard military? I thought we were working very hard on giving the exact opposite impression." Tamara pointed out with a smirk. "Don't worry Ash, I won't do anything you wouldn't do."

"And that is definitely what concerns me." Ashino sighed, before smiling as well. "Thank you, Tam."

"For what?"

"For helping me feel just a little bit more human with each passing day." Ashino told her, and then reached up to tug the bedsheet away from her grip, dropping it in a pile on the floor. "Shall I show you the progress I've made?"

"But the mission..."

"The ship will take at least an hour or two to be ready to depart." Ashino waved her to silence, opening a comm line on the desk and giving the orders for the ship, the Retribution and a unit of Punishers to be made ready for a long range covert operation. That done, he closed the channel and turned back to the very alluring naked woman sitting only a foot or so away from him. "Now about that progress..."

xxxx

Somewhere, Somehow, Somewhen

Akira yawned sleepily, ducking beneath a low hanging tree branch, politely lifting one hand to cover his mouth, just like his mom had stringently taught him and his sister during the past few years, doing her best to hammer into them the same teachings of "elegant manners" that had been one of the few ways Grandmother Clyne had ever interacted with her daughter one on one. The manners, the operatic singing and musical appreciation lessons and some balletic dancing instruction, those had been the chief points of contact between Lacus and her own mother, Elaine Clyne having been very invested in her own career as a theatrical artist before an unfortunate car accident had claimed her life when Lacus was about Akira's age. Akira had done his best to pay attention to the lessons, recognizing them for what they were, a way for his mom to pass on what she considered a family tradition, and even though he didn't particularly like singing, and Aoi positively hated it, Akira humored his mother, most of the time. Aoi was less cooperative and altogether much more rebellious, and would often make herself scarce when they heard their mother start humming tunes under her breath.

It was Aoi that was leading the way through the forest, one hand out in front of her to feel her way through the dank gloom, a precaution made necessary after she'd been whipped across the nose with a branch earlier on, her other hand securely fastened around the wrist of her sleepy, quiet, introverted older brother, all but yanking him behind her like a kite on a string as she determinedly marched on. Akira absently noted that Aoi seemed to be of variable tangibility, sometimes her grip was like a vise around his wrist, and other times she was about as substantial as fog, which led him to the conclusion that this was likely some sort of shared dream between them, and Aoi was having trouble maintaining the connection. She was like that, she had a short attention span even when she was really interested in something, and god help you if she found something boring. Akira was the opposite, like his father, he could sit and do just one thing over and over again for hours and be perfectly content.

Akira stumbled as he recalled other dreams in which he and Aoi had been playing with dad, but try as he might the details never seemed to really come into focus, and Akira wondered how long he'd been sleeping for? Time passed differently in dream worlds than the real world, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a prolonged summer nap. That awesome treehouse place dad and mom had taken them to was a pretty relaxing place, but enough was enough, he wanted to get up and play and explore some more! But this stupid dream didn't show any signs of ending anytime soon, the dark forest they were wandering through was strangely silent and seemingly infinitely vast, no matter how far or fast they walked, they never ran out of forest. At first Akira thought that the trees were all dead or hibernating, but in a brief pause while Aoi cast about for directions, before basically choosing one at random, Akira took the time to examine one of the trees more closely, and he realized that it was still quite young, just beginning to grow into its first flowering period.

So this was a young forest then, though the trees were all really big for being so young, but that just might be the weird physics of a dream world. Akira looked up and down the trees as Aoi pulled him along, muttering under her breath about being lost and not getting any help from her spaced out older brother, but that was okay because she was used to doing all the hard work and so forth and so on. He tuned her out with the ease of long practice and focused on his study of the trees, which often grew very closely together, forcing them to detour with a wall of wooden trunks. Each tree was subtly different from every other tree, but they were also strangely alike. They seemed... connected... somehow, and though many of them did entwine roots with their neighbors, Akira didn't think that was really what he was sensing. It was a deeper connection than just physical touch, he just couldn't put his finger on what it was. Aoi phased out again, and Akira almost tripped and stumbled as he continued to walk forward on autopilot and caught his ankle on a root.

Akira recovered and bent down to massage his sore ankle, belatedly noticing his lack of clothing. Wandering around naked was something he'd grown out of several years ago, ever since he'd been old enough to read anatomy textbooks and realized what the big deal was about the difference between boys and girls. Aoi didn't seem to care as much, though he sensed that was more out of a wicked desire to scandalize their mom and dad than because Aoi was unaware of the social conventions surrounding nudity. As a baby or toddler it was one thing, but they were eight and nine year olds now, only a few more years and they'd be going through First Puberty... you'd better believe they'd both been researching the subject in preparation, to brace themselves against the unwelcome arrival of strong hormones. Life was so much easier and less complicated when you didn't automatically feel different towards girls or boys because of developing biological urges.

Aoi phased back in again, obviously not even realizing that she was an inconstant presence as she glared down at him with her hands on her hips and sighed loudly, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Honestly, Akira, can't you even walk in a straight line without falling down? You are the most uncoordinated Neo-Coordinator ever, I swear! It's almost like you're trying to be clumsy, I've seen you dance with Mom, and you never even slip then. But off the stage, you can't go ten feet without stubbing your toe or skinning your knees... ughhh...

Akira stood back up again, enjoying the slight height advantage he had over his pushier sibling, which never failed but to irritate her. He noted that she too was berefit of coverings, but that didn't bother him, for earlier mentioned reasons. Aoi herself didn't seem to notice her nakedness any more than she did her frequent fading in and out of reality, and Akira wondered if it really was Aoi, or just a figment of his imagination. He hoped it was the former, because if it were the latter, then he was doomed... bad enough to be stuck with a little sister in the real world, if she was going to hound him in his private dreams too, he'd go crazy! I'm sorry I'm always thinking deep thoughts and pondering important universal truths. Hameya knows, one of us has to have more in their head than ponies and frilly dresses. Akira smiled in an aggravating manner at Aoi, since they both knew she was very much like Aunt Cagalli, she hated girly things with a passion. Well, ponies were cool, but frilly dresses or dolls or fake kitchen playsets? Aoi did her best to destroy them as quickly as possible, though Mom didn't seem to take the hint.

I swear on dad's Gundam, if mom makes me wear another pink dress with frills and bows and ribbons, I'm going to scream as loud as I can and I won't stop until she takes it off me. I don't care how adorable I look in it, I hate dresses! You can't run in them, and forget doing anything fun like playing tag on the beach or hide and seek in the jungle. I'll dress up for important events or if we're going over to Allister's house, but why do I have to wear them at any other time? Shorts and tank top is so much more comfortable... Aoi groused. She would complain and gripe about her favored subjects for an hour if he let her, so Akira was quick to change the subject.

Where do you think we are? This forest seems to go on forever. He asked her, looking around at the trees marching away in all directions under a sky that seemed to have no delineation between cloudy and not cloudy. He couldn't even see the tops of the trees, just the trunks and the bare branches. It was kinda creepy in some ways, though that just might be because Halloween was right around the corner and everything. Allister had bragged that he was going to have the bestest costume of all time this year, and Akira was looking forward to proving that boast wrong. He wondered what he should be though? A sudden, grotesque image of a charred and crispy zombie child snapped into his head. Akira considered it. Yes, it was gruesome and scary, but it might be a little bit much. This was a contest of bestest, not most freaky after all. Mom probably wouldn't allow it either, she didn't like it when he pretended to be a dead or undead, she said it was bad karma. Mom and her little superstitions. As if he'd ever actually die in a fire! But as dad said, sometimes it was better to just not argue, rationality had nothing to do with it.

I dunno. Aoi shrugged and looked around the forest disinterestedly. Does it matter? I'm fairly sure we're asleep, I'm just pissed that I'm trapped in one of your deep, symbolic, crappy dreams that no one understands.

Mom would not be happy to hear you using those kinds of words. Akira noted, a hint of disapproval in his tone.

Those? I can use much more choice language than that. I've been around Mr. Dearka when he dropped a really expensive camera of Aunt Miri's and it shattered. I learned a lot that day, though he made me promise not to tell anyone what I'd heard exactly. I looked it up later though, and proved that, just as I expected, it wasn't biologically possible for two...

You don't need to go into details. Mom would freak out if she heard you emulating even the things I'VE heard Mr. Dearka say sometimes.

Mom's gonna have to get used to freaking out. Once I hit puberty, from all the internet blogs I've read, all bets are off. I'll seem like the little angel she wants me to be compared to that version of me! I'd tell you all about how I'm going to get grounded for the first time, but you'd just tattle on me and I don't want to ruin it. You're such a five year old when it comes to mom's rules...

Just drop it. Just because I told on you once or twice doesn't make me a tattletale. I only did it those times because you were going to try something that could have gotten you really badly hurt. And mom makes rules for a reason. Usually. I will admit one or two of them are kind of strange, but the majority are there to protect us from doing stupid or bad things. Akira sighed and shook his head. I'm fairly sure though that the "don't eat the seeds of watermelons or pumpkins because they'll grow inside your stomach" thing is just a metaphor for being careful not to eat certain parts of plants that might be toxic...

Yeah, you can believe that if you want. But she actually picks them out by hand, even when we're at other people's houses. She even made me spit them back out that one time. You've seen her do it. Its embarassing. No one's gonna call her on it, cause she's Mom, but you can't deny it's weird. And the whole holiday spirits thing... Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus... she still believes in them, even though we've both watched her buy the gifts and hide them, she still puts out cookies and milk under the chimmney! Or something like them anyway. Mom is such a nutcase! And let's not even get into the Haro's, I'm SOOO glad she got rid of those things before I was born. Grown ups aren't supposed to play with toys like that. Most KIDS I know wouldn't want to play with toys like that either, I sure wouldn't! Thank Hameya Dad is still normal, otherwise I think I'd go crazy...

Akira was searching for a good defense for Mom's "funny little habits", as Dad liked to call them when Mom wasn't around. He personally loved his mom's quirks, they were something she really only displayed around the family, it was like a special secret that they shared together, that mom was just as weird as any other mom, despite how famous she was. But then again, Akira was definitely very much a mommy and daddy's boy, making his parents happy was a great pleasure of his, while it was seemingly Aoi's great pleasure to do the opposite, perhaps as a means of differentiating herself from her brother, when they were otherwise much alike. But by the time he came up with even a halfway decent arguement, he turned around to find Aoi had disappeared again. Akira squinted unhappily, displeased to have let his annoying sister get the last word, even in a dream world, since she all too often got it in the real world too.

He waited for what felt like a long time, but Aoi did not return, either dreaming on her own now, or else she'd woken up and was off doing whatever it was girls did after getting out of bed, Akira was not particularly interested to know what that might be. Deciding that she wasn't going to be coming back, and even if she did, being stuck in the middle of the creepy woods by herself for a little while might do her some good, Akira walked off in a more or less random direction, having decided that in this particular dream world, direction was largely meaningless. He just wished he would find something besides just trees to see, he was actually starting to get a bit bored himself, which almost never happened to him. Almost as soon as he wished that, Akira heard what sounded like voices in the distance. I should have thought of that earlier. He chided himself. Of course, its a dream, I can make things happen if I want to. All the same, there was something about these voices that made him feel a bit cautious, and so Akira employed some stealth in investigating, shortly finding himself crouched behind a tree and peering down into an odd little grotto in the forest floor.

The were three... beings... for lack of a better term, standing in the grotto, roughly equal distances apart, facing each other as they talked. More like argued or even squabbled, the heated glances two of them, the male and female figures, were shooting each other strongly reminded Akira of Aunt Cagalli when she was angry at someone, their eyes practically seemed to shoot laser beams. All of the figures were more or less humanoid, but for some reason, Akira felt that might just be a result of his own perceptions rather than reality. The man to the right had albino pale skin and extremely dark brown hair, his eyes a mixture of red and blue and black that seemed to swirl and fade in and out, changing in time with his stature as he swelled from a midget to a giant, from emaciated to portly, seemingly at random or in response to inner emotional turmoil. He had no mouth, instead a sort of clipped beak, like an owl or maybe an octopus, filled his face, and he seemed to be connected to the earthy walls of the grotto in the shadows behind him with a multitude of wriggling tendrils or tentacles.

The woman on the left had blue-green hair that constantly rippled in the air around her like it was floating in invisible water, her skin slick and slightly rubbery, a grey-blue shade like a porpoise, her voice impossibly deep and sonorous, more like a dirge-song than a real speaking voice. Her eyes blazed golden, and were much bigger than regular human eyes, filling up a quarter of her face, which had no nose. When she opened her mouth to talk, she had baleen bristles instead of teeth, and gill slits fluttered at her throat and sides. Her size kept changing as well, though she was generally always bigger than the brown haired man-thing. The ground was muddy beneath her feet, and the scent of the sea was strong in the air around her, a mist rising from the grotto walls to her rear, within which fish-like shapes could sometimes be seen swimming.

The being standing between the earth-man and the water-woman was neither male nor female as far as Akira could discern, perhaps a combination of both or just straight androgynous, its stature was exceptionally tall but thin, the skin dark and curiously stiff looking, dark green hairs sticking up from along the arms and legs and head like pine needles. The eyes were small, glittering like silver coins from within a face that was thicketed with the green pine hairs so thickly it was impossible to tell where any facial features might have been, if any existed. The tree-thing kept its arms stretched out wide, crooked and gnarled fingers spread wide, keeping the man and the woman seperated, both of them shying away from direct contact with the tree-thing as if its simple touch was deadly poison. A constant slow breeze seemed to ruffle the tree-thing's hair at all times, the sweet vanilla smell of sap was a tangible thing around it, like an angelic halo of scent. The man and the woman were too caught up in their arguement to notice anything around them, but Akira could have sworn the tree-thing glanced over at him for a moment before interrupting the dispute.

IT IS AS I HAVE FORETOLD, IS IT NOT? The tree-thing's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, the tone like wind rustling through forest leaves in early spring. THE SEEDLINGS HAVE COME FROM THE PLACE BEYOND THE SKY, WITH FIRE AND POISON IN THEIR HANDS, TO RECLAIM THIS PLANET, OR DESTROY IT IN THE ATTEMPTING...

GIVE IT A REST, PIPEWEED, I'M SICK OF YOUR "TOLD YOU SO" ATTITUDE! AND COULD YOU AT LEAST PRETEND TO SPEAK LIKE A NORMAL BEING? This came from the tentacle-man, his voice buzzing and clicking thickly, like he was speaking with a mouth full of muck. YOU CLAIM TO CHAPERONE THOSE TASTY SNACKS CALLED "HUMANS", YOU COULD AT LEAST DEIGN TO SPEAK LIKE THEM. THEY MIGHT NOT BE WORTH MUCH, BUT THIS "TALKING" THING, THIS WAS A GOOD INVENTION. YOU CAN CON THEM INTO WORSHIPPING YOU IF YOU LIKE, I UNDERSTAND THE ALLURE, BUT THERE'S NO NEED FOR SUCH THEATRICS BETWEEN US THREE.

LET THE PLANT COMMUNICATE HOW IT WISHES. IT'S MYSTICAL WAYS ARE ANNOYING, BUT NO LESS SO THAN YOUR VULGARITY. YOU'VE EATEN TOO MUCH OF THE LAND DWELLERS, THEIR ECHOES HAVE SATURATED YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS AND CORRUPTED IT. The sea-woman cut in dismissively, her voice once again like a song sung in slow motion from a great distance away, not precisely quiet but very much resonant, the very air seemed to shake around her with each syllable.

JUST COME SWIMMING UP MY SHORELINE SOMETIME, SWEETHEART, AND I'LL SHOW YOU JUST HOW CORRUPT I AM. The tentacle-man grinned, or at least controted its beak into a facsimile of that expression, the eyes glowing hungrily as their colors pinwheeled in hypnotic, beguiling patterns. YOU'LL SING A DIFFERENT TUNE ONCE I'VE GOT MY TENTACLES INSERTED INTO YOUR BRAIN.

I WOULD BE CAREFUL ATTEMPTING SUCH A THING. THE ECHO OF ONE OF US COULD WIPE CLEAN THIS PLANET OF THINKING LIFE. THIS IS WHY WE MUST BAND TOGETHER, THE DEATH OF ONE OF US WOULD DIRECTLY LEAD TO THE DEATHS OF THE OTHER TWO, AND ALL OTHER LIFE AS WELL. The tree-thing gestured expansively at its brethren. THE HUMAN SEEDS HAVE ALREADY ALLIED THEMSELVES WITH ME, AS HAVE A GREAT MANY OF OUR MORE LIMITED KIN. THE HUMANS HAVE AN EXPRESSION... IF WE DON'T HANG TOGETHER NOW, WE WILL ALL HANG SEPERATELY LATER.

I FOR ONE HAVE NO INTEREST IN AN ALLIANCE WITH ANY LAND DWELLERS. LET THEM COME, AND I WILL SMASH THEM TO PULP SHOULD THEY CHALLENGE ME. IF THEY GROW TO BE TOO MANY, THE OCEANS ARE DEEP, THEY CANNOT PURSUE ME TO MY FASTNESSES. I HAVE NO NEED OF YOUR PETS, TREE.

ONCE THEY DEFEAT US, THEY WILL COME FOR YOU. THE SPACE SEEDLINGS ARE ENDLESSLY INVENTIVE AND SHORT SIGHTED, THEY WOULD EVENTUALLY BOIL THE VERY OCEANS TO STEAM IN ORDER TO SLAY YOU, FOR THEY CANNOT FEEL SAFE AS LONG AS YOU LIVE. YOU CANNOT SWIM AWAY FROM THIS PROBLEM, SISTER, IT MUST BE FACED AND IT MUST BE FACED TOGETHER.

I FAIL, PERSONALLY, TO SEE THIS GREAT THREAT THAT THE SPACE SEEDLINGS ARE SUPPOSED TO PRESENT TO US. I HAVE DEVOURED HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF THEM, THEY ARE WEAK OF MIND, BODY AND SPIRIT, LESS EVEN THAN THE ANTS YOU SO TREASURE AND SAFEGUARD FROM MY WHISPERS! I DO NOT FEAR THEIR COMING, INDEED I WELCOME IT. MORE DELECTABLE PREY HAS BEEN SCARCE OF LATE, PERHAPS IT HAS COME TIME TO GORGE MYSELF ON BLAND FARE AND LET THE JUICIER FRUITS BLOOM AGAIN AT A LATER TIME.

EVEN IF WE THREE ARE SAFE AGAINST THEM, WHAT OF OUR VASSALS? I HAVE SEEN BOTH OF YOU SUFFER LOSSES AMONGST YOUR KITH AND LESSER KIN, ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAND ASIDE AS THOSE WHO SERVE YOU ARE DESTROYED? WE HAVE A RESPONSIBILITY TO PROTECT THOSE WEAKER THAN US.

YOU CAN PROTECT WHATEVER YOU LIKE, THORNBUSH. IF MY CHIMERAE AREN'T STRONG ENOUGH TO SURVIVE THESE SEEDLINGS AND THEIR MACHINES WITHOUT MY INTERVENTION, THEN ANY INTERVENTION I WOULD OFFER WOULD BE UNWELCOME TO THEM, SINCE I WOULD PROMPTLY DEVOUR THEIR ECHOES. LIFE IS ABOUT SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST, THERE IS NO TIME FOR MERCY FOR THOSE WHO CANNOT KEEP AHEAD OF THE DANGERS OF LIFE.

I WILL ANSWER ANY CHALLENGE AGAINST THOSE WHO FALL WITHIN MY DOMAIN. BUT I OWE NO LOYALTY TO ANY THAT CALL THE LAND HOME, YOU HAD BEST TELL YOUR CHIMERAE TO WATCH THEMSELVES AROUND THE WATER, FOR I AM NO LONGER IN A TOLERANT MOOD. THE SEEDLINGS AND THEIR SHELLFISH-BOATS HAVE TESTED ME ONCE, AND FOUND ME NOT TO THEIR LIKING. THEY WOULD BE FOOLS TO TRY AGAIN.

AS USUAL, NEITHER OF YOU IS LISTENING TO ME, DESPITE MY PARTICULAR TALENTS. THE SEEDLINGS ARE FOOLS, IT IS PART OF THEIR NATURE TO ACT ILLOGICALLY IN LARGE GROUPS, NO MATTER HOW LOGICALLY THEY ACT AS INDIVIDUALS. IT IS HOW THEY EVOLVED. YOU CHASED AWAY A SMALL GROUP OF THEM, BUT THEY WILL RETURN, BLANKETING THE OCEANS WITH THEIR BOATS AND PUMPING IT FULL OF POISONS UNTIL ONLY YOU AND YOUR CHIMERA STILL LIVE IN THE DEPTHS. WOULD YOU RESORT TO CANNABALISM TO SURVIVE?

I WOULD!

NOBODY ASKED YOU, CRABPUS.

I TAKE YOUR POINT, DRIFTWOOD, THOUGH IT PAINS ME TO ADMIT IT. I WOULD NOT SEE MY CHATTEL REDUCED TO ANIMALS MERELY FOR THE SAKE OF MY PRIDE.

THANK YOU, SISTER. I WILL DISPATCH AN EMISSARY SHORTLY, HE IS UNIQUELY SUITED TO THE TASK OF COMMUNICATING WITH ONE OF US, THOUGH HE DOES NOT REALIZE IT. I HAVE SEEN MUCH REGARDING HIS FATE AND HOW IT ENTWINES WITH THAT OF US ALL.

DON'T SUPPOSE YOU'D LIKE TO SEND ANY MORSELS... I MEAN EMISSARIES... MY WAY TOO, WOULD YOU? I PROMISE TO AT LEAST HEAR THEM OUT BEFORE I DIGEST THEM. I'M A BIG FAN OF ENTERTAINMENT DURING DINNER, YOU SEE.

SHOCKINGLY ENOUGH, BROTHER, THERE WILL COME A TIME WHEN YOU COME TO REGRET HOW FLIPPANTLY YOU SAID THAT. YOUR VERY SURVIVAL...

IS MY OWN CONCERN, WEED. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE SEEN, THE IDEA OF ME NEEDING HELP FROM THOSE PARASITES YOU ALLOW TO INFEST YOU IS NOT JUST ABSURD, IT IS OBSCENE. THEY ARE NOTHING MORE THAN FOOD, ONE DOESN'T GET HELP FROM HIS FOOD.

JUST LET HIM DIE, TREE. WE'RE BETTER OFF WITHOUT HIM.

UNFORTUNATE AS IT IS, SISTER, OUR TENTACULOUS BROTHER SERVES A VITAL PURPOSE IN THIS WORLD, JUST AS YOU AND I DO. YOU AND I MIGHT SURVIVE HIS PASSING AND BE GLAD OF IT, BUT IT WOULD BE LONELY WITH JUST THE TWO OF US LEFT. I KNOW HE VEXES YOU GREATLY, BUT WITHOUT HIM THERE IS NO BALANCE. THINGS ARE DESPERATE ENOUGH AS THEY ARE, WITH THE FOURTH STILL GESTATING, THOUGH THEY STIR IN THE WOMB NOW. IT WON'T BE LONG BEFORE WE THREE BECOME WE FOUR, AND FACE THE PRETENDER FIFTH THAT WILL TRY TO ABSORB US ALL AND BRING NOTHINGNESS TO ALL REALITY.

THERE YOU GO WITH YOUR MYSTICAL NONSENSE AGAIN. CAN ANYONE REALLY UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU BABBLE ABOUT, EVEN YOURSELF? WHY DO PROPHETS ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SO DAMNED CONFUSING? YOU'VE SEEN THE FUTURE, JUST LAY IT OUT FOR US!

HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED, BROTHER, THAT MY CRYPTICNESS IS ALSO A RESULT OF WHAT I'VE SEEN IN THE FUTURE? I KNOW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I TOLD THINGS PLAINLY, AND I ASSURE YOU, EVERYONE IS BETTER OFF CONFUSED THAN ENLIGHTENED. BETTER TO SEARCH OUT MEANING FOR YOURSELF THAN RELY ON ME TO PROVIDE IT FOR YOU. IS THAT NOT A PART OF BEING STRONG, FINDING YOUR OWN ANSWERS? AND DO NOT THE STRONG SURVIVE, AS YOU LIKE TO SAY? I CAN AND WILL GUIDE THEM, BUT I WILL NOT ENLIGHTEN THEM NOR DRIVE THEM ONTO THE PATH, THAT IS THE PROVINCE OF THE FOURTH. THE SPARK IS CLOSER THAN YOU THINK, BROTHER, SISTER. THE FIRE OF DETERMINATION WILL AWAKEN SOON, AND BY ITS LIGHT THE SEEDLINGS WILL FINALLY BLOOM. The tree-thing winked up at Akira as it spoke. And then, between blinks of his eyes, the grotto disappeared, the psychic meeting he'd eavesdropped upon vanishing as the three creatures involved severed their connections to each other.

What did you really mean, Mr. Tree? Akira wondered, sitting back against the trunk he'd hidden behind. And why did I get the feeling you were trying to tell me something?