"In preparing for battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable."
- Dwight D. Eisenhower

Chapter XXVI: Nemesis Games

Zeon supercarrier Dolowa
Warp
October 12, GC 379

Once more unto the breach, Lutjins thought as he watched the streaking stars move around the Dolowa, the latter proceeding to her next operations area at best possible speed. No, the Admiral did not think that the Fetlar System would be Revil's rallying point, any more than those systems previous, but the fact remained in contained a considerable sized Feddie installation that needed to struck from the cosmos, and the Dolowa was the ideal vessel to perform the deed. Lutjins took some solace in that fact; while it likely would not bring them any closer to accomplishing their present mission, at the very least they would be doing further damage to the Earth Federation's war effort, which would in turn soften the Feddies up that much more for when Zeon did, in fact, find the Odessa gathering point and bring upon it the full wrath of the Empire. At least, that's what Lutjins purposely thought, as opposed to the counter that this was all some cheap prank that His Majesty was playing on him personally. Sending him and the most powerful ship in the fleet out to mop random parts of the galaxy while much greater glory was held elsewhere.

No, Lutjins knew his Emperor far better than that, just as he also knew that this was all vital to Zeon's conquest. Again while the Fetlar System may or may not be Revil's pesthole, it still had a rather large EFSF presence to it, and that made it as valuable a target of opportunity as any other. Not only would it strain the Feddies, but it would also diminish their presence in the sector that much more, from which the Empire, or one of its erstwhile allies – useful fodder as far as Lutjins was concerned – would have a much easier time in conquering it and moving on. And as a bonus, using the Dolowa, a single ship, would conserve much of the Empire's ships, mobile suits and manpower for other targets, targets that may otherwise have been too well defended had those same resources been concentrated on a system like Fetlar. That amounted for much, Lutjins knew all too well, though it did not quite soothe the frustration he felt from within. He feared that, short of blind luck leading him and the Dolowa to their still unknown, unidentified target, nothing would.

Thought the Admiral wished he did not wish to think it, this whole mission was feeling more and more like what the Earthnoids would refer to as a wild goose chase, and there was very little he or anyone else aboard his lone flagship could do about it beyond striking and hurting the Feddies as they went. Just what were they doing out there, hopping from one star system to another like this? Granted those star systems had considerable enemy presences to them, and as Lutjins had highlighted on, sundering them went a long way toward Zeon's final victory. Having said that however, it wasn't what His Majesty had sent them out there for, nor would any of those destroyed bases, ships and mobile suits cripple the Federation as well as decimating Revil's combined fleet before it could hit Odessa. In other words, as the best Lutjins could describe it, they were striking glancing blows against Earth when they should be attacking its throat. Striking a delipidating blow then and there, which would inevitably open a path to the finisher. The Admiral's personal feelings toward well documented within the whole of Zeon.

All in all, the best Lutjins could determine, at least to himself, was that he wanted this mission over and done with already. Not simply because he wanted to attack Earth and finish what was started at Arcturus either. As he and Captain Lindermann both agreed, the Dolowa and those who crewed her and piloted her legions of mobile suits were meant for far greater than this. Piecemeal attacks against isolated Feddie basins as opposed to entire battlefleets, as well as select number of mobile suits and support craft instead of whole hordes of Earth metal. The Dolowa was meant to be one ship that could, and would, stand against all that her enemies could muster, yet here she was, performing system raids that any adequately strength taskforce could accomplish. Hell, for Fetlar alone, Lutjins suspected that a good sized fleet of eight, maybe ten ships could do what the Dolowa – a ship that was equivalent to hundreds if not thousands – was about to with all of her overwhelming force. And again, she would likely be no closer to finding Admiral Revil and his forces than Lutjins would be to making that second run against his primary enemy's homeworld.

Alas, there was nothing he could do about it, he knew all too well. Only accomplish his mission and move on, rinse and repeat. Until someone back home made a positive identification, or universe willing the Dolowa inadvertently stumbled over her target, this was all that she and those aboard her would be accomplishing in the immediate span. All the while, in some far flung star system, the Feddies continued to gather for their assault. Which, should they actually managed to succeed…

Suddenly feeling a presence behind him, Lutjins frowned at the unwanted intrusion. "I wish not to be disturbed."

"Forgive me Admiral," the yeoman replied without any hint of intimidation whatsoever, despite the vast difference in rank and status. "But Captain Lindermann requests your presence at once in regard to the coming operation."

"Heh," Lutjins let out without surprise, and actually feeling some strange appreciation. His flag captain was fast proving herself to be one of the most capable officers within Zeon's muster, and for her to request his presence meant she found something else in regard to Fetlar that they may have missed earlier, and so wanted to fill him in on.

"Very well," the Vice Admiral replied as he turned around and straightened his cap. "Lead the way."

"Yes sir," the Observer, now attired in an unassuming uniform, saluted before turning and doing as commanded, leading the Lutjins on to Captain Lindermann's wardroom. Doing well to conceal the knowing gleam in his eye from the Zeon flag officer as they went.

Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
Bhatan System

The taskforce reverted back to normalspace easily enough, the motley collection of six cruisers, two carriers and the lone battlecruiser entering the Bhatan System without much fanfare. Not that fanfare would have made much difference to Bright or his crew however, especially given what now laid out across the main monitor. Far from the picturesque world that was Jericho, and certainly a far cry from Earth itself, Bhatan was something of a deep red orb within the depths of space, a basic desert world that held two orbiting moons, a surface environment akin to pre-terraformed Mars from the Old Calendar, and very little else. A highly unassuming world, both Bright and Mirai could see why Admiral Revil had selected it for his initial headquarters, though they also imagined the Admiral was far more appreciative to have moved his rallying point to Sevastopol III, which was undoubtedly far more scenic by comparison. Not that the world itself truly mattered to the Ark Royal crew so much as what was presently around it, and different intervals.

This many ships remained behind? Bright thought as he looked over the innumerable signals and corresponding forms of EFSF warships and mobile suits, all but dotting much of the system between their orbit over their "headquarters" world and their patrol patterns. If he hadn't known any better, Bright would have assumed that the entirety of the Odessa force had chosen to make their stand then and there instead of follow the Fleet Admiral out to Sevastopol, at least before rationality set in. As vast as this force was comparatively to the miniscule Bismarck taskforce, it was but a tiny bit compared to the sheer number of ships – thirty percent of the entire Earth Federation Space Force to be precise – that Admiral Revil was bringing together to strike Odessa with. The force before him, as considerable as it was, would hardly have been but one percent of that great force, though Bright hoped it was enough to fool the Zeeks aboard the Dolowa. Just as he also hoped that their numbers would be enough to take the supercarrier on, with or without the wunderwaffe that was the Solar System, which did not seem to be setup yet. Bright figured that would be deployed upon the Dolowa's imminent arrival.

"What the…?" Omar queried from tactical, blinking twice before an expression of disdain crossed his eyes.

"Omar?" Mirai inquired herself, curious to see what had put off the tactical officer so.

Once more blinking, Omar emphasized. "Sir, ma'am, you may want to see this," he said as he brought up a new tacwindow on the main monitor.

At first glance, they appeared to be additional Earth ships in Bhatan's orbit, but as the tacscreen magnified, the whole of the bridge crew immediately realized the source of their TO's disgust. There were not nearly as many of them as there were "regular" Space Force vessels and mobile suits, but they were there, the ships keeping to their own formation above the planet while the mobile suits performed their own patrols, keeping well away from their "regular" cousins. All of them tinted in the telltale black of their organization, for lack of better description, and all variously marked with a distinct golden eagle sigil with a star placed at its center. The same sigil that now emblazed itself on the monitor via IFF readout, as though to emphasize the unwanted presence.

"Titans," Mirai glowered in much the way Omar had. "What are they doing here?"

Bright could understand her disdain, as well as the disdain of those around him, even if he was better at remaining forwardly stoic. The Titans were Earth's premiere black operations force, meant specifically in dealing with enemies of the Federation well into the background. Though a de jure part of the Space Force in themselves, they answered to no one, and made no secret of their contempt for the regular Federal Forces and the men and women therein. And that was before one heard whatever stories were told about the Titans themselves, and the wanton acts they repeatedly performed in the name of Mother Earth. Even Bright could not say he was too fond of them.

"Signal from the flagship," Kikka spoke up, breaking the dark spell that had otherwise lingered on the Ark Royal's bridge, causing all attention to shift. "We are to touch down at Bhatan Base and disembark."

She looked toward Bright. "Admiral Wakkein requests that you join him in meeting Admiral Forer, sir."

Nodding, Bright simply faced forward again, doing well not to look back on those black ships and mobile suits. "Proceed Katz, ahead one-quarter."

"Aye sir," Katz stated as he brought the Ark Royal along with the rest of the taskforce, with the Enterprise and the Magellan – apparently also having been granted direct landing clearance – falling in. From there, it was simple enough for the three ships to enter Bhatan's gravity well and touch down upon the main EFSF base as stipulated, though the crew's discomfort did not recede at any point through the span. Especially as additional black ships and mobile suits were found to be on the surface as well, settled upon their own section of the base.

Zeon supercarrier Dolowa
Warp

This is really irritating, Lieutenant Junior Grade Gusta Piper thought in distaste as he sat by, wishing he had brought some kind of tablet or projector into his cockpit with him. With Level One Battlestations having been sounded but a good few minutes ago, all he could do now was wait until the Dolowa exited warp and began deploying mobile suits against whatever Feddie pesthole they were going to hit. Until then, all he could do was wait with the rest of the ship, not even able to converse with his fellow pilots over the comm.

Damn it, the young Zeon soon found himself cursing, all but slamming his head back against his Act Zaku's cockpit chair in his boredom. It was the damned waiting that he hated the most. In many ways it was even worse than the actual fighting, especially for a non-combat junky like Gusta. Oh sure he fought for Emperor and country like the rest of Zeon, but as opposed to his commander, he had never become enamored with it, and it helped even less that, for all of his considerable skill, he was no Char Aznable or Ramba Ral. As a result, Gusta simply wanted to get out there and win the day for the Empire then and there, as opposed to having to remain on standby as he was. Especially as the temptation to contemplate his own mortality began to set in.

Indeed, the more Gusta waited, the more he could not help but think about it, as he had off and on since his assignment to Esser Squadron. He was not an ace like Commander Sanguine, nor was he a prodigy like Lilia. Sure he could keep up with them in battle, and he could certainly hold his own against the Feddies, but he could not hope to perform all the stunts and make all the kills that they could. And he certainly did not share their thrill for battle, though he did admit he felt a fair amount of pride in his service to His Majesty through each Inner Power lackey he did kill. Even so, he could only "just" fight, as opposed to dominate as his wingmates could. To say Gusta Piper felt inadequate would have been a grave understatement, even if he was actually doing his part.

Still, Gusta supposed it could have been much worse than it was. At the very least neither Commander Sanguine nor Lilia, nor anyone else in the squadron for that matter, seemed to view him as a liability. In fact, the Commander seemed to hold utmost faith in him over the fact that he had assigned Gusta to serve as Esser Three, putting him in the same team as he and Lilia. And as for Lilia, she also seemed to hold him in some regard, to an extent that they could be considered friends as well as comrades. Though she could be sharp in her criticism at times, especially over his piloting, she had never been condemning of him, and more than once had trusted him to look out for her and their commander while in battle. Surely there could be no greater indication of their belief in him, yes?

And yet, the more Gusta thought about it, the more he could not help but be unsure. Certainly they thought well of him and trusted him, that much was apparent obviously. Yet when it came to seeing him as an equal – even if only as a fellow Highborn – Gusta found himself questioning.

Shifting his mono-eye over to the two Act Zakus next to his, Gusta very much wondered. Though he tried not to think about it so much, he knew there was a connection between Commander Sanguine and Lilia that they shared with each other, and no one else. Nothing romantic of course, but at the same time that connection wasn't simply wingmates or comrades, or even fellow pilots. Again Gusta tried not to think about it so much, and as a result he could not come up with an elaborate way of describing it beyond that the two of them were a fixture. One that stood out within the multitudes that crewed the Dolowa, and certainly not something he himself was a part of, for whatever reason.

It bothered him, he could only admit. He did not know why it did, but it did. And not simply because he was left out of it in itself, but rather because it felt different. As though Commander Sanguine and Lilia were something else altogether; something that was beyond even their being "simple" Highborn or extremely skilled pilots and warriors. If so, then Gusta, and potentially the rest of the squadron, were even more adequate to them than initially thought. A feeling that did not help the Lieutenant any…

Abruptly did the indicator on Gusta's monitor flash in notification. At long last the Dolowa had exited warp and was setting up to launch her mobile suits. As a result, Gusta Piper dispelled any remaining thoughts on the issue, instead closing his helmet visor and focusing. All that remained for him now were Feddies to kill, victory to be claimed and further marching toward the Galactic Core. Those three things, and nothing else, at least until the day was indeed won.

Space Force Base Bhatan
Ananke, Bhatan

Flanked by the two senior captains and the de facto intelligence chief of his taskforce, Admiral Wolfgang Wakkein marched through the near deserted headquarters toward their impending destination. Himself having been stationed on Bhatan as part of Operation Odessa, it was strange to see the once nearly filled building so reduced in occupancy, and the fact that it had deserted so quickly assuaged that feeling even less. For him, it was almost like walking through a ghost town or colony that had been a thriving metropolis but a few days ago, especially when one considered the amount of brass that had originally answered Fleet Admiral Revil's call to arms. Now, there were only a select number of junior or middle ranked officers moving about, seemingly left behind in the great migration yet continuing to perform whatever duties left to them and otherwise keeping Bhatan up and running. Anything and everything to help Wakkein supposed.

Eventually he, Bright, Bekkener and Miller came to the door to the office that had originally been Admiral Revil's, with Wakkein knocking twice. It shifted open, and the four entered to meet its new occupant, who was not Admiral Revil but was something of a legend in himself. Wakkein admitted that he had never interacted with Admiral Blex Forer personally, but the man certainly had a reputation – one coupled with his appearance as an apparent blonde rendition of Abraham Lincoln – as one of the more accomplished fleet commanders in the EFSF, especially in the present war. Upon the latter admiral turning to face them, both Bright and Captain Bekkener snapped into salutes as Wakkein simply nodded, one colleague to another. "Admiral Forer."

"Admiral Wakkein," Forer greeted, his voice even sounding akin to an Old Earth Kentuckian as he reached out and shook his fellow admiral's own. "At the risk of sounding facetious, welcome back to Bhatan."

"What's left of it, yes," Wakkein remarked, earning a small laugh from Forer. Knowing that his fellow Admiral knew Bekkener, Wakkein introduced Bright and Miller to him. "Commander Alice Miller of Space Force Intel and Captain Bright Noa of the Ark Royal."

"Ah yes, our Trojan Horse jockey of the hour," Forer exclaimed as he nodded to the three juniors. He looked toward Bright in particular. "From what I understand Commander, you've really put on one hell of a showing up on your way here."

"I like to think my ship and I have done our part for Mother Earth, sir," Bright responded dutifully enough, deciding to take the cautious approach for the moment. Admiral Forer seemed genuine enough, and again his reputation preceded him, but Bright didn't know the man as well as he knew Admiral Wakkein and so reneged from speaking too candidly. He only hoped that his otherwise automatic remark didn't sound too trite.

Forer only laughed that much more. "Please, at ease son, and you too Commander Miller," the Admiral stated as he returned to his desk chair. The very same that Wakkein remembered Revil sitting at not but a few days ago, when the Fleet Admiral had given him his orders regarding Operation Bismarck. "We're all friends and good company here."

"All of us?" Bekkener inquired none too hintingly.

Again Forer laughed somewhat in understanding. "Yes, all of us," for a brief moment, it appeared the Admiral peered past the three newcomers, but then returned his gaze to them again. "For as long as the Dolowa is out there at least. Which, at the risk of offending certain sensibilities, will hopefully not be for much longer."

"Quite," Admiral Wakkein responded as he took a chair in front of the desk, Bright, Miller and Bekkener both following his example. "How long have they been here exactly?"

"Less than seventy-two Earth hours," Forer responded, again seemingly looking past the three but then withdrawing quickly, as though to remain otherwise unnoticed. "Honestly I don't know what they're really doing here, but apparently they were sent out by Admiral Om himself."

"That's a comfort," Miller quipped, recalling the visage of Earth's own Red-Eyed Monster with visible disdain. Much like Admiral Forer, Admiral Bask Om's own reputation – as much as the commander of a black operations force could publicly hold – preceded him.

Forer nodded sympathetically. "Honestly I'm not too happy about it myself, but considering what we're up against, the more the merrier," the Admiral then flashed a conspiring smile. "And at the very least, they sent over one or two things that may actually help us."

"Like what?" Wakkein could not help but take up where Bekkener left off. "G3 gas cannisters to go with the Solar System?"

"Perhaps Admiral Wakkein," a new voice spoke up from precisely the part of the room Admiral Forer had been glancing toward, causing the three newcomers to nearly jump from their chairs. From that apparently shadowed corner, a fifth occupant stepped out into the light. One who, while dressed in that all too notorious black and red rendition of the EFF uniform, carried himself with a strange, somehow enigmatic assurance. One as strange as his outlandish hairstyle seemingly. "That is, if we were here to eliminate Bhatan's rebellious population."

Frowning toward the man, Forer could only proceed with his introduction. "This is Titans Captain Paptimus Scirocco," the Admiral proclaimed. "He commands their contingent."

"Indeed," Scirocco affirmed as he came to stand beside Admiral Forer, gleaming in the face of the three glowering "regulars". "And suffice to say, it is as Admiral Forer stated. We're all friends and good company here."

The Titan Captain's smirk only deepened for emphasis. "So long as our immediate enemy remains at least…"

Just what are they doing here? Sayla did well not to glower, or curse so forwardly, as she, Amuro and Fraw entered one of the innumerable hangar blocks, this one containing an assortment of Guncannons in black and red. Though their entry was immediately noted by the equally uniform colored occupants, the latter regarded them with clear disinterest and so went back about their work. So long as their "comrades" in grey did nothing to hinder or obstruct them, the Titans otherwise could care less about the three "regular" Federals entering their territory and looking over their hardware. Some of them even regarded them as actual comrades-in-arms, both Amuro and Sayla picked up with through their Newtype powers.

In any case, they were there, and as far as the three could see, they were there to fight. There was quite an abundance of black and red uniforms to go with the mobile suits, most of which bore the same golden eagle sigil somewhere on their person or chassis, and more than enough self-superior egos to go with them. It was quite an eye opener for Amuro and Fraw, who had only heard stories of the Titans and their activities up to the present, but certainly had never seen any, much less operated in the same space as they. For Sayla however, it was as though they were sharing breathable atmosphere with one of her principle enemies. To say she was affronted at the notion would have been a light description, even if she did well to keep the bulk of her disdain off of her otherwise neutral expression. Again, what were these black coated lowborn vermin doing out here? Wasn't there some defenseless planet or colony further out to butcher for its anti-Earth sentiments?

Doing well not to concentrate on the humans themselves, Amuro found himself scanning over the mobile suits instead. For whatever one thought of the Titans, they certainly kept their machines at optimum levels, perhaps a league or two above the average Space Force unit in fact. The White Devil could not help but marvel at the internal framework of the Guncannons, which had to have heightened areas of performance alongside. At the very least it would give their side – assuming they were, in fact, all on the same side – a fair edge against the Dolowa and her legions. Especially those new model Zakus that had given them such a hard time at Zorres.

Through his scanning however, Amuro came across a particular mobile suit at the near corner of the hangar, well away from the entryway. Actually identifying that particular unit, he felt his eyes widen in their recognition, the sensation having been enough for Sayla to pick up on as well. Before the other Gundam pilot could turn to question, she felt a rather repugnant and quite obvious Oldtype presence sift toward her. Said presence unabashedly gazing over her and Fraw.

"Damn, look what we have here," the obnoxiously loud, obnoxiously brown mustached man in black and red proclaimed as his eyes moved over the two women, completely disregarding both Amuro as well as the disdainful warning in Sayla's eyes. "What are you fine ladies doing in a squalor like this?"

Sniffing with contempt at having to acknowledge this particular man's existence, Sayla answered regardless. "Just passing by sir," she responded, immediately taking note that the brown mustached man was a full Lieutenant. "Nothing in particular."

"Well damn, we can't have that can we?" the mustached man gleamed, eyes shifting between she and Fraw while ignoring Amuro entirely. "How about you fine ladies follow me out in the town? Celebrate truth, justice and the Earthnoid way before the big green bitch shows up!"

"An appealing offer sir," Sayla let out as she noted Fraw move closer to Amuro, who himself was now affronted and prepared. For her part, Sayla wouldn't mind putting this particular Titan in his place, but at the same time it wouldn't do well to reveal her Highborn superiorities so openly. "But as I said, we were just passing by and otherwise have our own…"

"Now now, Lil' Miss Junior Grade, don't be like that," the Titan pressed on, clearly not recognizing the danger he was in. "We're about to fight the biggest, baddest thing the Zeeks can possibly throw at us in the next few days, and any of us could cash in from the effort!"

The Titan's eyes gleamed even more as he looked toward Fraw. "Surely you want to make most of the time you have left, right hon…?"

It was at that point Amuro stepped in, facing down the Titan with utter contempt. Much like with Sayla however, the Titan didn't recognize the danger. "Move it junior! These ladies are fine enough without you!"

"My apologies sir," Amuro responded with forward diplomacy, yet remaining firm. No he wasn't frightened by this particular deadbeat – he had certainly got into fights with worse scumbags on Shangri-La – but he would rather avoid beating the living hell out of him with the other Titans so near. Two in particular – a black haired, tan skinned man and another with blonde hair, either bearing full Lieutenant and Lieutenant Commander tabs respectively – seemed to be observing the confrontation with interest. "But I'm afraid…"

"That's quite enough Lieutenant Monsha," a new, far more feminine voice called out as its bearer moved into open view. Not only did this one also have Lieutenant Commander tabs, but both Amuro and Sayla recognized the distinct ethereal pressure of one of their fellows. "You would be wise to back off while you still can."

"And why is that Commander?" Monsha quipped to his superior, out of respect to her rank if nothing else. "Because I might end up hurting more than this brat's feelings if I don't?"

It was then the woman Commander grin. "That 'brat' happens to be the White Devil," she pointed out, causing Monsha's skin to turn visibly pale. "And 'Lil Miss Junior Grade' is the Valkyrie of Riah."

"You're lying," Monsha blurted out, suddenly looking upon the two Gundam pilots with newfound apprehension, as though he had nearly picked a fight with two of the biggest badasses in the galaxy. "There's no way…!"

"Sorry Monsha, but she's right," the blonde haired LCDR then came up, nodding down toward his fellow Titan in confirmation. "If these two are anywhere near as good in a ground fight as they are in the saddle, then you wouldn't last ten seconds. Best call it quits."

"Not like you won't have other opportunities elsewhere," the darker haired Lieutenant chimed in from the background.

Though visibly sulking at that particularly lost opportunity, Monsha nonetheless receded as his apparent CO led him back to their original spot, though not without saluting the two aces and their own comrade as he went. Amuro, Sayla and Fraw were respectful enough to mirror his salute while the woman Commander in black and red greeted them.

"Please forgive Lieutenant Monsha. He is something of a relic of a bygone age," the Commander explained quite sardonically. "An age when women, especially blondes, existed in the kitchen and the bedroom exclusively."

She then saluted as well. "Lieutenant Commander Emma Sheen, Titans 118th Squadron," the Titan introduced. "Obviously I know who you two are, though not you so much Lieutenant."

"Doctor," Fraw corrected, feeling that this particular Titan seemed friendly enough. "Doctor Fraw Bow."

"I see," Emma nodded in acknowledgment. "So, what brings you three to our fair part of Bhatan?"

"Just taking in the sights ma'am," Sayla answered. "With respect to you and your comrades," she couldn't help but notice the responding glower from Lieutenant Monsha, which she flashed a grin toward. "None of us have operated alongside Titans before. We were merely curious."

"Understandable enough," Emma nodded. "Considering we seldom operate alongside our comrades in grey…"

"Excuse me, Commander," Amuro spoke up again, this time with renewed interest. "But…" he turned and nodded toward the direction where he had made his prior discovery. Is that what I think it is?

Hearing both Amuro's vocalized words as well as those projected, Emma nodded again in confirmation. "Indeed Lieutenant," she responded, understanding that much more. She should have known Lieutenant Ray, who had been attached to Project V from the start, would have recognized their other ace in the hole. "And suffice to say we brought it here for the express purpose of kicking the Dolowa back to Zeon…"

Fetlar System

Another day, another decimation. At least, that's how Mallet felt as he once more brought his Act Zaku up and over the latest round of beam fire, then returning in kind with his own rifle. He managed to shoot down one Guncannon before being forced back into evasion, the rest already trying to enclose around him, only for Lilia and Gusta to move in and shoot another of their number down as well. That was enough to dissuade the oncoming attack, from which Mallet and his wingmen immediately retook the offensive, gunning down the remainder of the Troopers before the passed onto the next line. All the while chaos and bedlam continued on throughout the rest of Fetlar around them.

If anything, the Feddie presence in Fetlar seemed to be more than those in previous systems, Mallet felt through his special senses. Certainly not their intended target, wherever it actually was, but more than enough to present the commander and his squadron, and the rest of their comrades too he supposed, more of a challenge than usual. That suited Mallet well and fine as he blasted the head off another Guncannon, this one a Stormer, before banking right to dodge its blind gatling fire. Another beam rifle shot through the flank ended that Feddie as well, though naturally there were two more where that one had come, with Mallet raising a beam shield to deflect their rifle shots before maneuvering out of the way of their cannons. Again Lilia and Gusta moved in his place, taking those baseline Troopers out with pinpoint accuracy. Two more to follow on with the innumerable flashes around and well into the background, which Mallet again could feel and comprehend through his power. The blood he eternally lusted for in sheer abundance.

And yet, as Mallet continued to drown himself in that blood, leading his squadron along the way, it still felt so hollow and empty to him. In fact, he dared say that, despite the seemingly infinite targets around him – choice meats for what should have been a grand banquet – he actually felt boredom and tedium, even as he continued through the onslaught. It was all "the usual" for him, he knew. Just the standard brand of Feddies to reap through, akin to an archaic scythe through fields of wheat. A blood-filled harvest to be sure, but nothing like what he had fought at Zorres.

Indeed, as Mallet gunned down another pair of Guncannons while flying by, he found himself actually wishing that there were at least one Earthnoid to stand out from the cattle, something that would give him a proper challenge. Not to say that killing in itself wasn't fun – certainly there was that particular thrill, as well as what his special senses picked up before the inevitable oblivion – but it hardly compared to actually having to work at it, Mallet realized. And it helped even less that the last few battles had been precisely the same as this one. Slaughtering basic fodder and little else.

And then came the great barrage from the Dolowa, striking down the last of the Earth garrison's capital ships, as well as the lunar basin itself, wholesale. That was it, Mallet knew, as all that remained were the mobile suits, themselves with no means of retreat nor escape in spite of their still considerable numbers. Regardless, it wasn't long before the calls to surrender began to be broadcast, despite a few hardy souls that chose to continue fighting to the end. Not that it really mattered, as neither Mallet nor the rest of his comrades were about to respond to those surrender calls. Admiral Lutjins' orders remained paramount, as did His Majesty's, in that regard.

Thus, like those before, the formal battle came to its end and the mop-up operation began. To their credit, the remaining Earthers were quick to realize that their enemies could care less about their offerings of surrender, and so valiantly chose to go out in the same blaze of glory as so many of their fellow lowborn had done previously. Determined, Mallet and his wingman credited them, but ultimately futile. If they could not withstand the so-called Zeon Scourge when they were at full strength, then they most certainly wouldn't be able to now. Their increasingly dwindling numbers emphasized that fact, alongside the number of additional destroyed Guncannons that Mallet and his squadron shot or slashed into the waiting beyond.

And so the Battle of Fetlar would end with all objectives met and minimal losses among the Imperial Forces. Once again as Mallet was concerned, another day, another decimation. Sieg Zeon.

Space Force Base Bhatan
Ananke, Bhatan

"It took a bit of time, but we managed to identify a fleet commander aboard the Dolowa," Scirocco explained as a holographic image of the commander in question appeared before his seemingly captive audience. "Vice Admiral Johannes Lutjins."

"Lutjins," Miller murmured with a fair amount of recognition that she couldn't quite conceal. "How did you learn this?"

Scirocco smiled enigmatically. "With respect to Space Force Intelligence, Commander Miller, the Titans possess their own assets," he spoke as though he were illuminating the Lieutenant Commander in some best kept secret. "We would rather not get all of our bad news from Mayfly."

"How wonderful for you," Wakkein intervened in a not-so-subtle rebuke. He had only known Captain Scirocco for a few minutes, but he already knew he wasn't going to like this pretty boy in black and red. And not simply because of his outlandish and utterly horrid hairstyle, which Wakkein actually wondered was deliberate. "What makes the good Admiral Lutjins so special?"

Scirocco nodded in apparent concession of the point. "In terms of acumen, Lutjins has proven to be a capable strategist and tactician, as you can see here," Scirocco explained, a listing of the Zeon Admiral's military record soon appearing beside his profile. "However, what truly sets him apart, even among Emperor Gihren's degenerates, is his rather zealous belief that Earth is the Empire's primary enemy. An opinion he has been quite vocal about within Imperial High Command, as well as all the way up to Gihren himself."

Again did Scirocco smile as he saw the realization dawn upon the "regulars" before him. "No doubt that once the Dolowa is finished with the Odessa forces, Lutjins will direct her, and possibly a full battlefleet alongside, to Earth itself," he emphasized. "Which naturally falls under the Titans' purview to eliminate all threats to the Federation."

Wakkein opened his mouth to reply to that, but Admiral Forer beat him to the draw. "I suppose your orders come directly from Admiral Om then?" Forer asked simply, without any hint of accusation.

"Not quite sir, but they were certainly passed down to him," Scirocco confirmed, allowing a moment for that to sink in before his audience. He again looked over them as a gathered whole. "Though I, at least, acknowledge the…checkered history between our respective services, we all remain soldiers of Earth and her affiliated worlds, and we have all sworn oaths to protect them. Following that, the Dolowa and her hordes are presently greatest threat to the Federation, especially with the concentration of our forces for Odessa."

The Titan then spoke with affirmation. "Thus, as so commanded by the President himself, we are to sink the Dolowa," he stated clearly and concisely. "And to pursue every applicable option toward, including and especially working alongside the Space Force."

Though the five members of the said Space Force remained dubious of that point, with Wakkein wanting to throw a few more jabs toward Scirocco's way for good measure, they all knew there was ultimately no argument. Like it or not, it was as Scirocco said. They were indeed in the same trench, and they were indeed facing the same enemy. Everything else could be dealt with once the Dolowa was firmly sunk alongside Lutjins and his aspirations.

"With that out of the way," Scirocco went on, having effectively gained the result he had wanted. "Allow me to share with you additional intel that we in the Titans have gathered regarding the Dolowa," he glanced toward Wakkein. "Up to and including that new model Zaku that your forces engaged at Zorres, which I'm sure you will find quite fascinating sir."

Again before Wakkein could respond did the holoprojector flicker, this time displaying a full schematic of the Dolowa and corresponding data. As well as the aforementioned mobile suit that had been encountered, its name reading out as the Act Zaku…

What in…? Sayla inwardly cursed – without broadcasting it – as she, Fraw and Amuro all beheld what now stood before them, with Commander Sheen standing off to the side so that they had a full view. For the life of her, she never would have thought of seeing one such as this particular mobile suit there, much less in the black livery of the Titans. In point of fact, she never would have thought that this particular mobile suit actually existed. "I did not realize the Titans were involved with Project V."

"We aren't technically," Emma explained as she looked up to said mobile suit, obviously her mobile suit, with clear admiration. "But there were apparently enough murmurings going on back on Earth for us to pick up on it, so naturally we appropriated one of the four for ourselves while the rest went to Shangri-La," she then smirked rather facetiously. "I hope you don't mind."

So that's what happened, Amuro thought as he looked up at what was very well the long lost member of Project V's line, which had all but vanished in thin air right before he and the other three had been shipped out. Now, much like the "prodigal son" he had heard off and on about through his youth, Gundam Unit Delta stood proudly within that hangar in Bhatan, inactive yet gleaming darkly in its obsidian coat. The golden aquila of the Titans stenciled into its left shoulder, as though to emphasize the force it now answered to.

"I suppose you have used it with due effectiveness?" Sayla inquired, doing well to mask her accusation but not her inquisition. Again she, and Amuro with her, did well to recognize the familiar pressure that Commander Sheen emitted, establishing that she was in fact one of their brethren. N-III at least by Sayla's own observation.

Emma smirked as she more than recognized the attempt. "I'm afraid I could not say Lieutenant Mass," she responded, as though actually regretful. "Only the President and select others may be aware of the Titans' exploits at any given time. More so with Unit Delta and myself."

Letting out a bemused smirk toward that, Sayla could only nod in acknowledgment. At least from the way Commander Sheen presented herself she was far from the stereotypical jackbooted thug that the Titans went out of their way to recruit. That amounted to something in her opinion.

Satisfied with that response, Emma looked between her and Amuro. "Having said that however, I must admit that I am far more assured of our chances with you two and Commander Law here," she said, looking upon her fellow Gundam pilots with clear admiration. "Not only because all for Gundams are now reunited, but because, in contrast to what I just said, your exploits are renowned even among our ranks."

Emma then drew into another salute at that. "Suffice to say, I look forward to fighting the Dolowa and her mobile suits alongside you all," she stated with clear respectfulness.

Once again despite themselves and their apprehension toward the Titans at large, Amuro and Sayla both returned that salute, as did Fraw. "Indeed Commander," Sayla responded, herself assured that they would have far more than their Gundams to send after the Dolowa and her legions. "May the glory of victory be ours at that…"

Zeon supercarrier Dolowa
Warp

No sooner than when Admiral Lutjins entered the briefing room did the senior officer cadre of the Dolowa rise to attention and salute. Any other time Lutjins would have taken some appreciation in the gesture, even though it was far from necessary as far as he was concerned, but now he had far more pressing matters. As emphasized as he came over to the head of the table, all but tossing the datapad he had been reading over for the last several minutes onto the polished surface.

"Bhatan," he stated simply, as though that name alone would mean everything to the gathered, which it did. "That is where Admiral Revil is gathering his forces."

Needless to say the men and women were all taken back by that statement, effectively realizing that, all through one great intelligence screwup, they had firmly accomplished nothing. The battles they had fought all the way into the present, while certainly costing Earth much in the way of men and material, doing absolutely nothing toward fulfilling their Emperor given objectives.

"How long sir?" Lindermann questioned, somehow managing not to rub her strained forehead. To think that she and her ship had wasted so much time…

"I just received the communique myself," the Admiral stated in his own frustrated disgust. "From what I've come to understand however, Bhatan had identified the target well before we even set sail!"

"Why then!?" the communications officer let out through her own grief. "Why weren't we…?"

The question hung, lingered seemingly, in the open air as the gathered could only fathom it. Why hadn't they been told at the start? Why had High Command saw fit to let them run around the sector stamping out random Feddie bases when their real target had already been identified? None of it made sense, save for Lutjins, Lindermann and a few others. And they dared not consider what they suspected.

Regardless, Lutjins took a great breath as he settled down into his own chair. Despite such a gross setback, what was most important was that they now knew. And could therefore execute. "Bring up a starmap of the Bhatan System."

From that command did the table holographic projector engage, presenting a full layout of the star system in question. Where the enemy, their real enemy, undoubtedly laid well in wait.