Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed and Gundam Seed Destiny. They belong to their respective copyright owners and publishers. This work is not created with any commercial aims.
Phase 10: A new world
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Part 4
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Central Command and Control
EA Ptolemaeus Base
The Moon
When politicians and military officers all over Earth and the space colonies discussed how Operation Stardust, and its immediate aftermath in Spain, shifted the course of the war, there were two groups affected more than most. First, it was obviously ZAFT, whose superiority complex and belief in inevitable victory shattered like a sand castle trod upon by an overly eager child, before sea waves washed it away without a trace.
The second group was obvious as well, the crewmen and pilots of the Earth Alliance fleets cowering at the Moon under the dubious protection of heavy fixed defenses. Unless a miracle happened, they were dead men and women walking, everyone but the greatest optimists and delusional cadets pressed into service before their instructors could properly open their eyes, knew that truth. To face ZAFT in open combat, even when backed by what should be overwhelming numbers was a sure way to commit a very expensive suicide.
That was literally true during the single victory the EA managed to scrap together at Endymion. To those few who survived that particular exercise of mutual butchery, the news of the consequent victories won by their allies came as a rude, yet pleasant shock to the system, one initially met with understandable disbelief.
Yet, the news kept coming, this time backed by sensor logs, even preliminary After Action Reports and soon the floodgates opened, bringing a new age of opportunities and danger. The dead men and women walking, they received a new lease of life, only for their commanders to begin planning how to take an advantage of the new world they found themselves in.
Two of those commanders stood side by side in the cavernous chamber holding the primary nerve center of Ptolemaeus base. Nearly two hundred specialists worked day and night collating data, keenly watching sensor screens and all the other endless duties that came with working at primary hub hosting Earth's space fleets.
Huge screens showed real time pictures of the Earth system. They were covered with a myriad of symbols designating every single known ship and installation in the vicinity of the home world and for the first time since the war began, there wasn't a single hostile red symbol signifying ZAFT units in the vicinity of either Earth or the Moon.
"This is a priceless opportunity to get the rest of the civilians out of here and receive all the supplies Panama can send us!" The tall, sickly thin form of Commandant Francis Luis shook with the strength of rarely shown emotions. His sharp fine features cut a sinister visage in the subdued light of the command center, something that a long time ago earned him a number of less than flattering monikers.
"I agree." Fleet Admiral Timothy Robins, the Theater Commander of the Earth Alliance Space Forces, spoke curtly, as was his manner. He was the highest ranked EA officer in space, and the man responsible for the prosecution of the most critical aspect of the war. That was a post Timothy held only because his predecessor had to fall on his sword after the disastrous defeats the EA Forces suffered because of the never sufficiently damned N-Jammers those pesky Coordinators pulled out of their exhaust ports.
Standing next to his colleague, Robins appeared short and chubby, something that back at the academy earned him the nick-name the Space Napoleon, in no small part due to his obsession over tactics and how combat in space would work in the age they all watched unfold in their youth.
"I received a few messages from friends back at the Pentagon this morning, we should be getting official communications later today. First, Washington got confirmation from our Eurasian friends." Robins nodded at a small cluster of symbols slowly crawling through the tactical plot. "That Eight Fleet squadron is coming here, bringing some of their wounded for treatment and more importantly, examples of salvaged ZAFT tech."
Commandant Luis perked up at that. "Something they believe we should have?" His question came out with a hint of his native Quebecois accent, something only heard when he was agitated for one reason or another.
"Working examples of ZAFT communication equipment – both from their Mobile Suits and a partially salvaged communications suite from a gutted Nazca class." Robins' lips might have twitched upwards as he said that.
The implications weren't lost on the two career officers. For all their nasty side effects, the N-Jammers interference with communications and thus proper coordination of forces was particularly devastating. If the captured equipment could be reverse engineered and native examples built in a useful amount of time, that by itself might be a game-changer, even if any engagements against the enemy would still happen in an environment benefiting the Coordinators. At this point, neither of the Earth officers dared hope that the captured technology would be enough to give back their navies the use of the heavy networking they relied upon.
"That's certainly good news. They will bring full AARs and complete sensor logs from the battle as well, I trust?" The Commandant inquired.
"They will. I already have my best people studying what we have and running war games. I've been thinking too…" Robins paused briefly to gather his thoughts. "I'm almost eager to do something we've been avoiding from the moment we figured out how much we were outmatched. Earth needs time. Admiral Halberton bought us all couple of weeks respite. Every additional day we can buy, it means more time to prepare defenses, more time to hunt down N-Jammers while there are no ZAFT bastards in orbit to replace them, and as a consequence, more war material being produced."
"More time for us to get new Mobile Aromours and even Mobile Suits of our own, to reverse engineer captured technology as well." Luis looked at his not quite friend. "Do you really intent to offer ZAFT battle when they come to reclaim the orbitals or just try to play cat and mouse with them before retreating to the Moon? Either way, the dangers are going to be extreme."
"I'll want the Archangel up here along with every prototype we can get our hands on before offering ZAFT a battle if I can help it. Now we know they can be defeated if pressed hard enough, if we have the right power multipliers to cover our weaknesses and blunt their advantages!" Robins slammed a fist into his open palm.
"We lack every single one of those necessary advantages. I don't need to tell you that if we lose our remaining mobile forces in space, anything that our people can send up from Earth is going to be a sitting duck for too long before it could deploy for battle." Luis warned.
"I know, damn it! We just got the initiative back and I'll loath to let it return to the Coordinators! If we can just bluff them, buy more time…" Robins let it go at that. "At any rate, we're going nowhere for the time being. I already have plans in place for when Washington authorizes Panama to send us heavy shipments, we'll have ships in place to pick the supplies up and bring them in. On a similar note, the rumors my friend heard imply that its unlikely we'll see the Archangel up close and personal for the time being. She'll likely remain in Europe for at least a few more days, perhaps longer. The Eurasians are going to milk their victories for all they're worth it, there might be a parades, the works. Likely an award ceremony where our people will be taking a prominent place. After the circus is over, they're likely to be retained as a defensive force for when it is time to send up shipments heavy with brand new hardware in order to escort them our way."
"That actually isn't half bad idea." Luis raised a reedy eyebrow at that.
"ZAFT didn't manage to kill all of our competent people, with us being the obvious exception." This time there was no mistaking it, Robins' mouth indeed twitched in a very brief, very thin smile.
"Not for a lack of trying." The Commandant scowled. Both of them lost many a friend over the past months, most of them not even in a proper battles but in engagements which were pure one sided slaughters.
"Well, no longer. I recon, our counterparts in ZAFT aren't enjoying the experience of actually fighting soldiers who can fight back. Unless you need me, I'll be back in my office, plotting how to repay all our debts in full."
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Part 5
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EAS Archangel
Gibraltar Base
Spain
The relative peace and quiet following our insane stunts was a strange thing to experience. It wasn't until now that it dawned on me that I hadn't really expected to last this long – even drawing on my counterpart's fragmented memories and skills, I should have died in one of the battles I fought. There were too many close calls, too many crazy ideas, we all pushed our luck to the breaking point and beyond.
Yet, here we were – sitting in the mess hall, having a decent meal and busying ourselves with typing extensive After Action Reports. The powers that be would soon be using those to decide if what we did was downright insane and we were just poor bastards who expended all their reserves of luck for the rest of our lives, while the gods of war smiled upon us, or more disturbingly, that our desperate measures actually were good ideas given the circumstances. In the later case, we would likely be required to make a repeat performance and get ourselves killed for good.
It was moments like these I was grateful for my medicine – otherwise I would have likely fallen apart due to stress already. Very soon, I became even more thankful to said medicaments, when Natarle's voice gleefully sounded over the comms.
"Rise and shine, boys and girls! I've got news. We're to press our best parade uniforms and prepare to meet the top brass. We just got confirmation from our Eurasian hosts as well as Earth Alliance Theater Command, we'll be off to Geneva for some R&R, but only after a parade and a few reward ceremonies thrown in our honour. Command crew, report to Briefing Room 1 in fifteen minutes. Pilots, report to the hangar at fifteen-zero-zero, sharp, to inspect your machines and make sure they're presentable…" Natarle continued to happily bark orders.
Now I could vaguely recall that she was a sap for military parades and such, something that very rarely happened back in the AF.
At least someone was going to enjoy the circus, which reminded me two points. First, no good deeds remains unpunished, as the AARs I was yet to finish could attest. And second, among other things I lacked proper uniform for such an event – I grabbed only the most essential luggage back at Heliopolis and left the rest in the car at the research facility's parking lot. Needless to say, those uniforms among other things were gone now.
Second, I was likely still declared dead in the civilian world, perhaps in some of our military systems, which put me into an "interesting" position as far as accessing my account and getting my hands on a new parade uniform went. You got one set of said uniform issued, if you got it lost or damaged, it was up to you to buy yourself a new one, which might prove problematic for various obvious reasons.
"Oh, fuck me running…" I groaned.
"Why the gloomy face?" Mu butted in from where he sat surrounded by multiple data-pads, while holding a cup of steaming, genuine coffee the Airborne liberated from Gibraltar's stocks and shared after we suggested the drop at Tarifa.
I did concisely explain my newfound situation, which made him frown.
"I should have thought of that, I'm your bloody CO. Do you think Commander Harper could help expedite figuring out your status? You're technically one of his own as much as ours right now and another confirmation that you're back among the living can't hurt." La Flaga suggested.
"I probably should get the ball rolling and await confirmation one way or another while finishing these…" I waved helplessly at my own collection of data pads. I did recall having an account set up at Heliopolis, which should have contained at least one salary for expenses, though that again was a moot point. As far as my financial status back home was concerned, it was something to be untangled once the war was over. Being officially dead was a good thing as far as maintaining the secrecy of the G-Weapon Project went or that had been the general idea, for all the good that did...
Before the war, figuring out my status would have taken a few minutes and a device with internet connection. Here and now? I had to call it up the chain of command, if for no other reason, because showing up in fatigues for an award ceremony at Geneva of all places would be a big no-no. The looks of sympathy that my limbo status enticed and the reminder of the reasons behind me were more than enough to further sour my mood.
The good news, which became apparent soon, was that both Garcia and Harper were willing to put into writing and testify if necessary that I was who I said I was, which would help cutting through the red tape in my immediate future. The bad news? I was officially declared dead, both in the civilian world and within a lot of government systems as it turned out over the next few hours. Unfucking this particular complications was going to be easier said than done and might require more paperwork than the mountain of AARs I had to write up lately.
Joy.
Another complication came in the form of Natarle, who appeared at the doors of my quarters that very evening, looking to talk.
"Nat?" I blurted out and looked up from the data pad in my hands.
"Delkatar." My… former girlfriend I guess, offered me a small smile and invited herself in, sitting on Mu's currently vacant bed. "I heard about your troubles…" She trailed off. "It struck me again, you were dead, damn it!" Natarle shouted and tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "You promised you'll be back and you went out and died!"
As I could recall, I think I promised that I would do my best to get back, not that I would be back, no matter what. Or I might be mistaken on that front. It was all one vexing blur. That said, I wasn't dumb enough to raise the possibility aloud.
"I know." I said awkwardly. "Nat, I…" Didn't we have this conversation before? I wasn't the same man who she fell in love with, neither the one who fell for her. On the other hand, whoever we were before, the war did change us both, didn't it? "We aren't the same people we were back on Luna. I don't know if we would have had a future together, though I hoped that what we had, would last."
"Me too." After a moment, Natarle gathered herself and looked at me calmly. "What now? I… I want to try again. It's war, this might be all we could get for ourselves before it's all over."
Well, that was one possibility that hung over both our heads – there was no guarantee that we would make it to the other end alive. In that regard, well damn it, why not?
"I'm of the same mind, Nat."
"You did promise to show me some of Europe's highlights when the opportunity presented itself." My maybe girlfriend smirked.
"I would like that very much." Hopefully, this, whatever it was, wouldn't end up in fire. "And you did promise to do the same if we ever found ourselves in North America."
