The farm is always busy.

That much is certain.

He stands atop its bridge, his eyes fixed on the horizon. While he can't see beyond the horizon, he somehow knows that Panemian naval ships are lurking out there.

They are always close by.

His eyes are hard as he grasps the military-spec binoculars around his neck and raises them up to his eyes. Now he can see them.

They are just beyond the range of his vision with the binoculars, but he can make them out, even if barely. His teeth grit as he clenches the binoculars in his hands, and behind him he can hear his dogs barking.

Three Panemian Poseidon-class destroyers are close to Australian territorial waters. Their sleek, angular shapes are a dead giveaway.

The farmer lowers the binoculars and turns to look at the radar array. He walks to the edge and peers down into the bridge. "Radar? Got anything?" he asks.

The woman nods. "Yes. Three Poseidon-class destroyers patrolling just outside the twelve mile zone. They're testing us, as usual."

The farmer snorts. "Damn them. Always trying to take our resources..." He snarls as he remembers the last incursion that left one of the floating farms badly damaged, and its crops burnt. This is one of the risks to having such farms, but how else are they supposed to feed their larger population in the wake of the Apocalypse?

"How long before they try another incursion?" he asks.

The radar operator shrugs helplessly. "I honestly have no clue. Although I suspect it may happen within two days' time at best..."

(The scene shows a small flame before darkness snuffs it out. But a small ember burns...)

Hikari ga tsudzuku... ! (The ember is blown away, becoming one of many as the sun begins to rise beyond a war-torn town.)

Hikari ga tsudzuku... ! (The light from the sun overcomes the camera and it fills the screen before fading to show the skyline of Sydney and the name of the series.)

Yami ga sono tochi o shuchō suru kamo shirenai (The image flares before it shows two people trapped in a ruined structure in what was once Shanghai. They are both shaking and are wounded from shrapnel.)

Shikashi, kibō wa enjo no te o kasu (A pair of explosions rocks the area and they huddle and whimper before someone lifts the debris off the two of them. It is a group of Australian soldiers.)

Sekai ga kawaru to (The soldiers help the two children to their feet before one of them grabs a grenade and throws it at some bandits coming to pillage. The grenade explodes before the debris falls away, exposing the ruins of Europe, Marshal Sergei Kudryavtsev's image over the continent, King Lawrence III opposing him over Europe as well.)

Furui risō wa moe tsudzukeru (The scene is engulfed in a bright flash as it shows Korean soldiers storming through city ruins in what was once Seoul, South Korea, carrying Panemian weaponry as rebels fight back desperately. Above them is Ahn Sun Pok, her face twisted into a sneer as she holds her hands upwards, as if mocking the world's helplessness. Behind her is the Panemian Vice President while President Kane is off to the side, gazing at the sky.)

Kieru hikarinonakade (With a wave of her hand, she commands the forces to open fire on rebel positions. Missiles rain down, the black smoke engulfing the area before it is blown aside by a hoverplane.)

Kurayami ga hirogaru ni tsurete (The hoverplane is painted in Arabian colors, and on top of the imposing palace is Muthasim V, the sultan. He looks back as it fades to a map, showing the Egyptian Union breaking away from them. But then it shows the country turning a bluish green as it fades to show a new figure in the shadows.)

Watashitachi no kibō wa tsudzukudeshou (The figure holds up its right arm before it lunges out, coming into the light to reveal Seph Matthews as he swings his beam saber mounted onto his right arm, cutting through a bandit before spinning and cleaving another's gun in two, following up with a left hook leaving him dazed. He turns, his left optics lens flaring red as it engulfs the screen.)

Watashitachi ga mada ikite iru kagiri (The light fades to show three other members, all of them gathered around in front of the Meldney Complex. To the left is Japanese Empress Yuki Minaguma. To the right is Filipino President Gueo Largina. And in the middle is Taiwanese President Chae Yang Un. Behind them the flag of the Australian Confederation flutters before the camera zooms in on it, only for it to fall away.)

Un, hikari ga tsudzuku! (The image of Sydney is revealed, above it Seph and his fellow leaders side by side with the sun behind them, the Australian Confederation flag above them all as the series name appears below them.)

Chapter 5: Never Surrender

Location: Honolulu Farms, Australian Territorial Waters - Australia

Time: 1100 hours

Date: Friday, 12 May, 139 AF (2158 AD)

Captain Takahiro Mizushima grits his teeth as he paces atop the bridge of the floating farm barge, Honolulu Farms, one of many floating farms built to help feed their current population. But in doing so, they are also putting their population at risk for starvation because if pirates or even worse, Panem, got their hands on them, it would mean the demise of most of their people. And that is why the barges are listed as cities or counties, seeing as how some of them are like floating cities and counties in their own right due to their sheer size.

The barge he is in command of is one of those that could be classified as a county because of its sheer size.

The outer edges are lined with barracks and structures used to house the equipment to fertilize the crops, as well as packing facilities and the storage for the packed goods. The entire interior section is devoted to growing the crops, and as per the Floating Farm Regulations Act, the crops have to be rotated so as to not dry up the soil used for growing them. Some farms are devoted to livestock as well, so as to have a steady source of meat to also help supply the population. The farms are just one of many innovations to allow the entire Confederation to become self sufficient, and for good reason, as most nations are all about grabbing resources in this day and age, with no concern for the welfare of the planet.

The farms are always at risk for pirate attacks and Panemian incursions, but it is also risky because of the monsoon season and tropical cyclones. Thankfully the farms are built with this in mind, but sometimes events do happen. The most recent tropical cyclone nearly sank the O'Hare Farmers' Union barge; only the pumps kept it from sinking entirely. After the cyclone passed, it took weeks to remove the water and salvage the crops. One farm barge actually did sink back in 0039 AF; but that led to better construction for the current barges in use.

The captain is forced from his thoughts by the sudden blaring of the alarm for lunch break. He turns back to the scene of the workers as they hurry inside to escape the heat. He reaches up with a hand and wipes the sweat off his forehead before removing his cap and running a hand through his greying purple hair. His brown eyes glimmer as he turns and makes his way to the ladder leading down to the barge itself. He replaces his cap and descends the ladder before heading into the air conditioned bridge.

"Lunch break?" the radar operator, his wife Kimiko Mizushima, asks with a joking grin.

Takahiro smirks. "Of course." He wanders over to the fridge and opens it up, pulling out a pair of lunch boxes and set them down on the table in the middle of the bridge; the bridge also doubles as their home, as it has a fully working bathroom, kitchen, an office, and a bedroom for themselves. The two dogs they own run into the room, barking and Takahiro holds up his hands. "Whoa! Settle down!" he laughs as the two fox terriers dance about.

"Let me guess; they need some activity, right?" Kimiko asks as she grabs her lunch box and opens it.

"Hardly. I took them for a walk around the barge this morning!" her husband remarks as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Well, then that's good." Kimiko sighs, her eyes taking on a distant look. Her husband knows what that look represents and he sits down beside her.

"If you're worried about Panem, then they'll have to tangle with the submarines to get to us," he tells her.

"It's not just that I'm worried about..." she whispers, looking at the sandwich held in her hands. "It's those damn Games. What'll happen when they end? Will there be a third war? And if so... can we do anything about it?".

Takahiro is silent as he ponders this. While it is common knowledge that hardliners in Panem want the Games to continue, it is also common knowledge amongst the Confederation leadership that there are those who fought against such barbaric practices and rituals harking back to the Roman Empire. The resistance though is not as widespread as it had been prior to the Second Revolution.

"Honestly, Kim, I have no answer. Remember, we're just in charge of the farm here," he says. "But if anything, maybe the President has plans or something."

Kimiko sighs. "I just... how can we be the only ones to hold onto our ideals alongside Britain when all others are being taken over by that damn nation?" she asks. "As it stands, the only real way we can win against them is to overthrow their "allies" and reclaim them. But their navy... it's just too big..."

Takahiro nods, his eyes grave. "Well... we'll just have to sink them then. Somehow..."

Both sit there in silence for a moment before a loud klaxon begins to wail.

"Oh, bloody shit!" he blurts, scrambling to his feet and dumping his lunch on the table. He runs to the radar, and he slams his fists on it. "Crikey! They're doing it again!"

That gets his wife. She runs over, and her eyes widen. "Again?!"

The farm barge captain grits his teeth as he runs over to the radio receiver, his hand flying for it and pulling it off before he even comes to a stop. He dials in the frequency for the submarine closest to the barge; as per the Floating Farm Regulations Act, all farms have to be in constant contact with submarines patrolling their borders. The submarines are assigned to a farm barge and are permitted to dock for allowing the sailors leave time. It isn't uncommon to see submarines lingering close to the barges every so often; it also acts as a boon to the submariners when it comes to getting fresh meals every now and then.

He only hopes the captain is listening.

"USS Abbey, this is Honolulu Farms! Do you read me?"

"Affirmative, Farms. We read you loud and clear," the voice of Captain Guanyu Li responds.

"We have several hostiles coming into range of territorial waters!" Takahiro shouts. "Three Poseidon-class! Armed to the teeth. Suspected incursion imminent!"

Those last three words are enough for the captain. Her voice is hard as she gets back to him. "Understood. We'll drive them back."

"Good luck, and Godspeed!" the barge captain says.

The line goes dead and his wife joins him as they look out at the waters, as if seeing their imminent doom. The fate of their safety now rests on the submarines guarding their very livelihood.

Location: USS Abbey SSBN-745, edge of Australian territorial waters

Depth: 1200 m

Time: 1200 hours

Captain Guanyu Li narrows her deep red eyes as she runs a hand through her shocking yellow hair. The forty-five year old submarine skipper is not a big fan of the recent spike in Panemian incursions into Australian territorial waters, and the stripping of an entire country's resources is enough to make her blood boil in anger. She shifts in her seat as she peers at the radar mounted to the left arm of her chair. The screen shows the three Panemian naval ships incoming towards the large spots that indicate the location of the barges.

A scowl crosses her features and she grips the arm rests in her hands, feeling the metal digging into her palms. She glances at the men and women around her, waiting for their orders. All have their gazes fixed on her, and she feels a bit of satisfaction from this. Her crew is well trained, everything they know drilled into them through countless hours of simulations and test runs of their weapons. The Abbey is one of the best in the entire Confederation naval force, and she takes pride in it. She is a woman of discipline, but she knows the value of free thinking, and allows her crew to speak their minds, sometimes offering up new tactics to carry out so long as they remain within mission parameters.

"Helm, increase speed to twenty knots, and come about zero-five-one. Ascend to depth one triple zero."

"Aye!" the helmsman grips the controls and angles the sub upward while coming about. The submarine begins to hum with the immense power of her fusion reactor, sending it directly into the shaft and driving her propeller. The vessel's sleek shape continues to slip through the ocean, looking more like a phantom than an actual submarine.

Above her, Li knows that the three Panemian ships are coming closer. No doubt they'll be hunting for any possible attackers, she muses with a smirk. The Abbey is not a typical boomer, that's for sure. She's one of a new breed, designed solely for launching attacks from stealth, as the missiles now have the ability to launch from deeper beneath the waves than their original design indicate. The specs of the sub are classified, but she is known to the public as one of the new Spectre-class ballistic missile submarines. And Li takes great pride in the fact that her boat lives up to her name. The fusion reactor helps with that, that's for sure.

"We got the Pannie ships incoming," the radar officer says as he glances back over his shoulder. "Ten hundred meters out and closing rapidly."

Li nods, keeping her gaze locked on the radar. "Excellent. When they come closer, ascend and we'll pop a few torps their way, but off to the left so they'll miss."

"Frightening them is one thing, but don't you worry we may hit one of them on accident and prompt a new war?" the officer asks. "No offense to question your orders, ma'am," he adds hastily, fearing her wrath.

Taking her gaze off the radar, Li smiles at him instead. "No. It's good to question something if you're concerned about it. But do not dwell on it for it may cloud your judgment." Then she becomes serious. "I have faith that they'll miss. We always have done this, so why stop now?"

The officer's face floods with relief, but that does little to reassure him. Being in a tense situation always gets him nervous. "Understood, ma'am."

She turns to the helmsman. "Helm, ascend until we're at zero five hundred."

"Yes, ma'am!" He angles the sub a bit higher, and she watches the depth gauge mounted to the right of the radar monitor.

The captain's eyes harden as the gauge ticks closer and closer to the destination depth.

"Wepps, I need a few torps prepped for popping," she says.

"Aye, ma'am! Loading tubes one and two now, flooding shortly!" the woman says as she keys in the commands.

Within the front of the submarine, both torpedo tubes flood with water, and two torpedoes are slipped inside via the launching system.

"Torps ready, ma'am!" Wepps reports.

"Good," Li muses. "Wait for it now. We have to make sure that we miss them, but detonate close enough to give them a message."

"How close we talking?" another officer asks.

Li smirks. "Just fifty off their bow."

"That's..." Wepps' eyes widen as she grasps what's happening. "That's twenty meters shorter than last time!" she murmurs softly in shock.

The captain nods. "Yes. Best to give them a message that they can comprehend."

While Li is not a big risk taker, she's known for pushing the limits by toeing the line between warnings and unofficial declarations of war. This is the closest she has ever toed the line before. And perhaps the one that's finally making her nervous. What if they do miss, and sink one of the ships, inadvertently drawing the Confederation into war with Panem? What would the President do, and how would the people and politicians react.

She feels her heart rate increase and she bites her lower lip as her men and women make ready to launch the torps. The inside of the submarine seems to fill with tension, and she can practically sense it in the atmosphere. It's everywhere, and she can see the way her crew is tense and poised for the confirmation of war, or a successful warning shot.

The Panemian naval ships are crawling closer and she feels a smirk cross her face, despite the tension in the air.

"Play time!" she mutters to herself.

Location: Panemian Naval Ship PNS Varinius

Time: 1200 hours

Date: Friday, 12 May, 95 ADD (2158 AD)

Captain Aelianus Como runs a hand through his brownish blonde hair, his grey eyes hard as he spots the incoming barges. A smirk crosses his face. Those fools think they could keep their precious food safe by planting and harvesting it out at sea, do they? Well they are wrong on so many counts. And he is not about to let this go.

While he's not a fan of stripping entire lands, Panem does need the resources. He keeps those sentiments to himself though, fearing the worst for his family back home in District Four. His only wish is to see Panem take lessons from this self-sufficient alliance, and not have to destroy the planet for it. His grandparents and parents though, have squashed all those thoughts out of him in an effort to keep him conformed to Panemian society. But they linger. And yet... in some way, his indoctrination is at war with those thoughts.

It makes it difficult to know who he is as a result. Only recently has he uncovered a couple of forbidden tomes of knowledge and literature long forgotten and banned by the current government, and as a result, his eyes are now open to a world he never knew existed, and knowledge long sealed away. But why? Why hide this kind of knowledge? What does the government not want them to know?

What is it that makes them so unwilling to let this stuff become public knowledge? He had never even heard of any of these places until he joined the navy. And while his indoctrination tells him to view them as insects, if previous encounters are to be believed, some part of him actually has nothing but deep respect for the Australian Confederation. A respect that is completely forbidden. A respect for their determination to remain true to those ideals of... freedom and, dare he say it, belief in God?

While he is taught to believe only in Panem and not some so-called deity, he can't help but wonder if there is something to the churches he has seen as a child. He has never heard much about God, but in a way, he's drawn to this "make believe" deity. Aelianus is not one to say his real thoughts, though he does think them to himself in his mind, which is his only refuge from the ever present eyes and ears of Panem. He briefly recalls one of those tomes hidden away in his home back in Four. It reminds him briefly of the book, with the dusty and faded words Nineteen-Eighty-Four, and he shudders. Panem is in a way similar, but different.

And yet here is an alliance who dares to say no, that the world can become a different place.

His musings are interrupted by the call from Vice-Admiral Glamoure Hansson. He draws himself from his thoughts and puts on a mask of hatred, standing erect and tall as his training dictated.

The screen lights up and the Admiral's face appears. "Captain Como, are you in range yet?" she asks.

"Yes, ma'am," he says in a calm voice. "Those idiotic insects won't know what-"

He's cut off when a loud klaxon begins to blare.

"What is it?" he demands, trying to force as much hatred into his voice as he can.

"Sir, we have incoming torpedoes!" the sonar operator yells. "Three of them closing fast at fifty knots!"

"Get a direction on them and find out where they came from!" he barks.

"Seems like those blasted insects think they can be a dog," Hansson says with a sneer.

"Yes, ma'am. But I will make sure they have something to think about!" Como hisses.

The Admiral's image nods. "Good. I expect a report of success when you're done." With that, she cuts the line, and he turns to face the radar and sonar operators. "Keep an eye on those torps and launch countermeasures! Give them a full broadside!"

The ship's helmsman reacts on instinct, swinging the ship around as its three five inchers and its plasma weapons come online. The guns all roar as one, sending the rounds and shots right for the torpedoes. They strike the water, and the noise produced causes the torps to go off course and explode, but what they do not expect is a second wave coming in fast. And yet the homing projectiles don't hit the ships as they speed right past, and detonate further away, but the impact of the shockwave is enough to rock the ships and cause damage to their bows, flooding their magazines.

Como yelps as the shockwave rocks his ship, sending people and things scattering. He staggers to try and keep upright, as his training mandates. And yet some human instinct is telling him of danger, so he brushes his training aside and finally manages to right himself by using the console closest to him as an anchor. He manages to get to his feet and looks around, klaxons blaring in his hearing. The ship is mostly intact, but as the damage control readouts show, the magazines are flooded and he grits his teeth. Clearly the Australians are not fooling around. This is the closest they have come to actually sinking the Panemian ships.

His eyes are hard as he looks to the radar and sonar, and he frowns. So... they knew we were coming and had a group of submarines close by... he thinks. Clever. They're much smarter than our so-called leaders think. They don't want to risk a war, and yet they're still willing to use force in self-defense. A smart move in my opinion.

A snort escapes him as he feels the ship right itself, despite the klaxons blaring. As if my opinion even matters in this so-called society of ours.

He looks around as his men and women start to go through battle protocol.

How is it that the Australians are so resistant to the new old world order? What is it?

He has no way of knowing that it's due to the events of immigration and civil rights movements that led to the country's newfound, and enhanced, respect for what Panem has long since forgotten. His eyes shoot up as he hears something akin to jet engines flying past and he looks out the window of the bridge just in time to see an aircraft carrier coming in, and his eyes widen as he recognizes it from the briefing he received just hours ago.

And with it is that...whatever it is.

The Australian carrier's flag waves defiantly in the midday breeze, as if to say "screw you" to Panem's leaders.

Aelianus is not shocked to see the planes launch, but he dreads what's coming next.

Location: USS Enterprise - CVN-80, Australian territorial waters

Time: 1245 hours

The last thing he expects is to get the call to scramble during his lunch break.

But considering the circumstances, he doesn't blame them.

Especially since the farms are at stake here.

Lieutenant Ryo Maeda shifts in the cockpit of his machine, his grey eyes hard as he scans over the readouts, his pilot helmet placed within his lap as his hands fly over the controls. Years of practice and training are well worth the effort, he thinks as he finally leans back and runs his hand through his thick blue hair. He grasps the helmet and puts it on his head, the seal clicking shut and air being purged from the seals. He presses the side and the tinted visor slides down to protect his face, not just from the harsh UV of the sun, but also burns and explosive decompression should his machine get shot down. His pilot suit is one of the very latest, a unique model designed for this particular craft he's piloting.

His gloved hands grasp the controls as he waits for the launch order.

The shooter gets on the air. "Headwind's good. Steam pressure's good."

The pilot gives the thumbs up before flipping the armored canopy shut. As soon as it clicks, he braces for the acceleration.

He's immediately pushed back into his seat not even fifteen seconds later. He presses the controls forward and the engines of his craft roar, and he spins around in a barrel roll before joining the second of his flight.

"Eagle Flight, you are cleared for engagement," the air commander says. "Just remember to give them a show. Do not sink them. Their bows have been compromised already by the submarines."

"Understood, sir," Ryo replies. He grips the controls as he glances at the monitors showing the outside world. He can see the three ships struggling to remain upright and he feels a smirk crossing his lips as he speeds past, allowing them to see his aircraft.

He just gets a glimpse of one of the Panemians as he watches them, with something akin to awe on his face. Ryo can't help but grin. This is just too good. And this is actually a dream come true for him. He spins his plane around before speeding upwards, his hand flicking the control switch for the transformation.

And the ACSW-X109 Eagle Gundam transforms for the second time that week.

He feels the cockpit reorienting itself so it's right within the center of his machine's torso, and he can see the configuration altering to its humanoid form. The Gundam's transformation screen flashes once it's in its true form, and he grips the controls, splaying out the arms and legs in a menacing formation as the wings flare.

"Eagle Flight, clear!" his wingman says.

Ryo's eyes glint as he hunches over in his seat, his face split with a wide grin. "Okay! Lieutenant Ryo Maeda, Eagle Gundam! Engaging!"

He guns it and the machine's thrusters flare. He draws out the glowing blue beam saber, ready to attack. But remembering his superior's words, he only wants to get them to fire their missiles at him. And not a moment too soon, the destroyers fire off a slew of missiles at him. Whipping his beam saber around, he cuts through two of them before he jets to the right and slams his machine's elbow into another before speeding away as the projectile explodes.

Around him he can sense the power of the nuclear fusion reactor flowing through the systems and circuits, and he revels in it. This is the way to fight! No longer will the Confederation be restrained and limited in terms of their ship numbers. With a few of these machines, they can deal massive damage to Panem's naval forces for little more than a loss of one of their own ships. But he also knows that eventually Panem will get wise and start to develop their own mecha if too much is revealed. So he's under strict orders to not even use any of the weapons aside from the beam saber and missiles.

Ryo forces the thoughts from his mind though as he draws back his saber and slashes through a fourth and fifth missile, causing both to explode prematurely. He whips his machine's legs around using the AMBAC system and a fine touch on the controls, kicking a missile in half, both parts exploding in midair.

He spots one of the Panemian ships trying to slink away, and he narrows his eyes as he flips through the channels, finally zeroing on the frequency used by Panem's fleets.

"...shoot that thing down?!" the captain is screaming at someone.

"We're trying, Harrick, but the damn thing is just too fast!" the second captain barks. "As it stands, we'll all be in trouble if we let these insects get the better of us!"

"How can they be called insects if they're much cleverer than even our esteemed leaders anticipated, Florianus?!" the third captain in the group remarks, catching Ryo off guard. His eyes widen beneath his helmet's visor in mild surprise. Okay. This is new, he thinks.

"Aelianus, are you saying you actually think they can win against us? That is paramount to treason!" the first captain, Harrick, snaps.

"I'm only stating the facts. These so-called insects have managed to develop a weapon that outclasses us, even with our superior technology and numbers. Look at it. It's faster, more maneuverable, and if that demonstration was of any indication, it's clear that it's able to intercept missiles and take them out," this Aelianus says. "And we don't know if it has any other weapons."

The other two captains are silent as he listens in, keeping silent. No need to inform them of his presence, right?

"Harrick, I am only looking out for the fleet's best interests," Aelianus remarks. "I strongly advise we withdraw to further consolidate our assets and repair our ships. We can make another move later on this month.

Ryo brings his machine to a hover, watching the three ships with interest. This is odd. Why would one of the captains be insisting that... His eyes widen as he suddenly gasps to himself. The way he worded those statements... the first one is clearly a question directed at trying to get the others to drop that thinking. And the report on the facts of his machine, or what little they knew of it anyway, have some small hints of a free thinker in there.

Is it possible this man, this Aelianus, is not as indoctrinated as his fellow captains? If so... then maybe they can use his help!

But the thought is brushed from his mind as one of the other two captains resumes speaking.

"Very well, Aelianus. We will retreat for now. But only because our ships have all been compromised in some way. Those damn fools just don't know when to quit!" Florianus hisses.

Ryo switches the channels back to the Confederation's frequency just as his superior calls in. "Lieutenant Maeda, do you copy?"

"Yes, sir," he says, keying the mike. "But I think we have a bit of an interesting discovery."

"You can fill me in once you've returned to the ship. Plus, I need to debrief you as well. We're being sent down to the rigs near PNG."

"Why there?" Ryo asks, his eyes narrowing a bit. "Seems like a waste to me."

"Long story short, Panem may be attempting to go for another rig cluster close by, and there's a massive spill. The ERC is already on it, but they need cover in case those bloody wankers try anything."

The lieutenant sighs, rubbing his gloved hand down the visor of his helmet. "Okay. I'll be there shortly." He pivots his machine around in the air before transforming back into aircraft form and heading back to the ship.

Time: 1345 hours

Commander Bảo Tran is not pleased with the news as he paces the briefing room.

Especially now.

He stands in front of the pilots, their eyes locked onto him as he finally stops and looks at all of them. He fixes his gaze on Lieutenant Maeda before tearing his eyes back to the others.

"I'm sure you all heard of the recent events in PNG, but for those of you who didn't watch the news, long story short is that Panem triggered one hell of a spill. They left it for us to clean up knowing we'd be busy for years. So the gist of it is that they intend to strike at the rigs closer to what was once Indonesia. Our goal: to be there to intercept it and drive them back." He looks at each of the men and women before he presses a button and the monitor across from all of them lights up, displaying the area in question. He grabs a nearby pointer and taps it against the monitor's screen. "Here is where the spill is." He moves the pointer over a small ways, stopping close by. "And here's their target."

Maeda raises a hand. "Um, sir, what exactly is our objective, aside from diverting the Panemian fleet?"

Tran purses his lips. "Our objective is to try and prevent them from triggering another spill and prevent them from stealing any more resources from this area." He highlights Papua New Guinea, as well as the other territories annexed. "They want it, they'll have to trade for it rather than just swiping them like common thieves."

His yellowish eyes narrow. "And to be honest, someone needs to give them a kicking to their asses over there," he growls.

"As if!" one of the fighter pilots shouts back. "We can't even get the damn blokes to stop stealing our resources! Remember the last incursion? Three farm barges had half their crops stolen!"

The commander nods, looking at the group. "But the issue here is not the fact that they need their asses kicked. The issue is the fact that they set up a spill and we need to prevent another one."

"Anything the spooks have to say about that?" a second pilot asks. Her visible blue eye is hard as she glanced at him, her black eye patch a contrast to her shocking silver hair.

Tran shifts his weight before he resumes speaking.

"The intelligence guys did say that Panem was going to try and attack the rigs in Indonesia. No doubt because of how much oil lies untapped there." His eyes harden into amber shards. "But we're going to stop them cold."

"What I don't get is why Panem is after our oil reserves. I mean, can't they just derive oil from algae like us?" Maeda asks. "It would save us a lot of time and effort."

"True, but those blokes there think the world is theirs to use as they see fit, just like a certain Nazi did back Before the Fall!" Tran shoots back. "So we have to prevent them from getting those reserves, no matter what!"

Maeda nods, but refrains from saying anything else. To him, the fact that the AC is entirely green contradicts their need for oil. But then again, they never do use it themselves, except for sometimes when their algae oil supplies run low, which is rare. If it were up to him, Panem could have the reserves so long as they traded for it, and not stole it.

"Our orders are to also cover the ERC as they begin cleanup and restoration efforts," Tran continues. "As you know, Panem is also stealing trees and other resources without consideration for the environment, as Papua New Guinea demonstrated. So, our objective there is to cover the restoration of the forests for the region, and then for the next ten months to allow the soil to accept the newly rebuilt trees, provided it hasn't been contaminated by chemicals or whatever else they use."

"Any idea as to what they used?" the female fighter pilot asks.

Tran's eyes dart back over to her. "Lieutenant Silverstein, that is one thing we do not have any data on at the moment. But I fear they have used chemicals that made the soil toxic..." His voice trails off as she grasps the implications. Her blue eye widens before she shudders in her seat.

"So, we have to be prepared for whatever Panem throws our way. Regardless. Is that clear?" he asks.

Every pilot there nods and salutes. "Yes, sir!"

Tran glances back at Maeda. "And Maeda, be careful you don't go too crazy out there. Remember we only got one Gundam right now. So keep it from going too far, okay, mate?"

Maeda salutes once more. "Yes, sir!"

Location: Spill site

Time: 1415 hours

Zero is not pleased.

That's for sure.

His eyes are dark with anger as he watches his men and women start dispensing the nanobuilders across the spill using their helicopters. The silvery blue solution begins to eat away at the spill once it touches it. A few other helicopters are circling the two destroyed rigs, dropping nanobombs onto the structures. Already he can see that they are starting to be eaten away as well. But it will take time to fully dissolve and disassemble the rigs at the molecular level.

He glances at the smartwatch he wears, checking over the progress. His commset beeps and he presses a hand to it.

"Molecular disassembly progress for the spill is at two percent. Five percent of the piping at the three intact rigs is repaired and climbing."

"Destroyed rig disassembly is at five percent and rising. We'll be dropping a second load to speed things up."

"Be careful. Too much and it could really cause a catastrophe."

"Understood. After two loads we're done."

"How's it looking otherwise?" he asks over the commset.

"Sir, we've finished checking out the partially destroyed rigs. It's a go for salvage ops. We can scrounge up any remaining equipment to help patch the holes in the lines. But I don't think we'll be able to finish the repair job this month," one of the soldiers says.

"Just keep working at it, mate! We need to get this thing under control!" Zero shoots back.

"Yes, sir!"

He presses a button on the side of his commset and it changes frequencies. "How's the soil situation down in PNG?" he asks.

The screen bleeps a few times before the ID comes up. Colonel Fritz Adler. He knows the man from having served with him. He hears the distinct German accent and he smirks to himself, but it is wiped from his face as he begins to speak.

"Zero, ve have both good news and bad news," the colonel reports. "The good news is that the soil is not as contaminated as ve have feared. The bad news is that ve cannot plant any trees here for fifty years. Ve can start the process, but vithout many resources from Meldney, ve cannot get it fixed in time."

"At least it's not permanent," Zero grumbles. "How long with what we have?"

Adler's voice is silent before he speaks. "About fifteen years. Way too much time still, but it is something, at least."

Zero nods as the helicopter circles around, examining the rigs and spill. The process is going to take some time, he knows, so he forces himself to ignore it and focus on the matter at hand. "I'll see if I can get in contact with them and get some additional resources. The bad news is it may not be as many as you hope. The Veep doesn't want to overstretch our efforts."

"I understand, Zero. Keep me informed, no?"

"I will, Fritz." Zero shuts down the commset and looks back out as he spots the second helo dropping its payload onto the destroyed rigs.

He watches as the solution falls, landing on the rigs. His eyes are hard as he scans over the rigs a second time with his eyes. He lifts up the binoculars, and his eyes harden. "Damn barbies... They'll be sorry for this...!"

Location: Unknown

Time: 1600 hours

Date: Friday, 12 May 95 ADD (2158 AD)

A shadowy figure lurks in the fog surrounding the small fishing community in District Four. It looks left and right, its body shaking as it runs into the mist, coming to a halt just outside the old bar/inn. The door swings open and a man sticks his head out. He waves for the figure to come inside. As soon as the figure enters the building, the door shuts, throwing the small village into darkness once more.

The figure is hidden by the shadows, but the man seems to recognize him. He sighs as he places a hand on his face. "You are taking an enormous risk," he says to the shape.

"I know. But this information must get out. The AC..." The shape pauses, looking left and right before lowering the tone of voice. "The Confederation needs this desperately. Ever since our cover was blown..." A hand reaches into a pouch and lifts out some cash, and not Panemian currency. Old American dollars, now deemed forbidden by the Government, but still widely collectible for amateur historians.

"Is that it?" the man asks, frowning at it.

"Yes," the shape mutters. "I spent days getting this together. But it never even occurred to me what the whistleblower did... Giving outdated information to the Confederation was sneaky... making it harder to work with the government. What are they trying to accomplish?"

The innkeeper snorts as he takes the cash and pockets it in a hidden pouch in his apron. "No clue. Best to not even ask, lest we have an informant here," he cautions.

The shape seems to huddle closer to itself and nods its hooded head. "I understand, Hadrianus. But is this even really right, what we're doing?"

Hadrianus rolls his eyes as he grabs a nearby glass and starts cleaning it as the door creaks open and a pair of Peacekeepers wanders in. Both men are looking alert, and his guest seems to deflate in submission. Hadrianus merely continues his cleaning as the two men come his way.

"Are you the proprietor of this establishment?" one of them asks.

He nods, not even flinching. "Yes. Why?"

"We have reason to believe that this man has been seen in the immediate vicinity of this village," one of the Peacekeepers says in a cold tone, holding out a picture of the man in question. Hadrianus narrows his eyes, knowing instantly it is the man who has come to see him. But he brushes it off and just sweeps his arm around.

"As you can see, Officer, there is no one like that here," he says curtly. "It's just me and the regs."

The Peacekeeper narrows his gaze behind his helmet and frowns. He scans around the facility, but it's much too seedy for anyone but the fishermen and drug dealers. The shape in the corner of the bar merely sips a glass of booze, trying to remain calm.

The man grunts as he steps closer to the shape and grabs its shoulder. "Are you one of the regs here?"

The shape looks back, its hooded face barely visible in the dim lighting. For a tense moment, everything is still, and Hadrianus inches his hand for the pistol he carries. But then the head nods and a gravely voice issues out from under the cloak. "Yeh. So what?"

The Peacekeeper is silent, but then slowly his hand withdraws from the shape's shoulder and the pair meet back up before leaving the inn/bar. The first Peacekeeper looks back. "If you see him, report to us at once!" he barks.

The innkeeper merely snorts before waving them out.

The door slams shut and the patrons resume their normal activities.

The shape sighs before slipping the cloak back somewhat to expose a young Capitolite in his late twenties. His silvery hair is a dead giveaway, as is his metallic skin and grungy appearance. He glances back out the dirty window as the two men drive off. "That was too close..." he says in a whisper. "I was worried..."

"As am I, Antipatros," the innkeeper says as he looks back at his guest. "You're in danger, you know that?"

Antipatros nods, shivering as he draws into himself. "Yes..." he whispers. "And I need to get out."

Hadrianus shakes his head. "Best bet I can say is take a fishing boat out and jump overboard. Someone's bound to pick you up. You swim?"

His guest perks up and nods. "Yes. Why?"

A smirk crosses the old innkeeper's face as he lowers his voice. "My ex-wife's fishing boat. It'll get you out of here, and it's got scuba gear on board. Swim as far to the rendezvous and ditch the boat. I got a speedboat I can use instead."

The young Capitolite smiles in visible relief as he clasps the old man's hand. When he pulls it back, nestled within his palm is a sleek data drive, compatible with the latest Australian computers. The man scurries out into the misty evening.

Location: Oil spill - Papua New Guinea

Time: 1800 hours

Date: Friday, 12 May, 139 AF (2158 AD)

Seph growls lowly as the helicopter banks right, flying directly over the seething mass of oil. He can see booms being erected by the two ships to contain it. The large number manufactured in recent years has allowed them to contain more minor spills, but this is the first time they've been used to contain a spill as massive as this one. It extends out even beyond the maximum zoom range for his optic. His eye narrows as he grips the handle above the door tightly, feeling the metal denting under his strength.

"Yeah. It's bad, sir," the pilot says. He grips the control stick tightly in his hands. Seph looks over, and his optic whirs as he zooms back to normal focus. He can see the pilot's face is filled with disgust and he can't help but feel the same.

"How long do you think it'll take?" the pilot asks.

The President turns back to the spill and snorts. "Martha said about a few years. But due to the scale of this, it's unknown for the time frame." His optic flashes red. "I'm surprised they even pulled such a low move..." His teeth grit in anger. "...all to keep us busy for the next few years! And for what?"

The pilot shrugs. "I can't say, sir. But those bloody barbies are gonna be in for it soon, I hope."

Seph grunts once. "Hardly. We're gonna be busy with this, and on top of it we have the preparations for the concerts to focus on, as well as containing Pok's masses."

The pilot looks over out of the corner of his eye, confused. "Masses, sir?"

Here the President shifts, his eye hard and his optic flashing red angrily. "Damn right! Bloody masses of obedient drone-soldiers! Bloody communist thinking has left them unable to think for themselves! It's the same in the USS, mate. And I'm not referring to them as individuals until we can get some sense back into the world's leaders," he growls softly.

The way his superior says it sends shivers down the pilot's spine. Seph's words sound more like a dragon's growl than anything, and he gulps.

The helicopter circles a bit longer before Seph sighs. "I've seen enough. Head back."

The pilot nods, feeling intense relief. He turns the helicopter back towards the carrier, its rotors beating the air above it. As the spill fades behind them, Seph grits his teeth.

One day... they will remember... That... I guarantee! he thinks. America will be reborn, just like the Phoenix... and Panem's Ultranationalist elites will one day die! That I swear!

Ooh boy. Looks like a spy is intending on getting away, and Seph's busy with an oil cleanup. But what about the Games? As they draw closer, the Australian Confederation gears up for their biggest concert yet, and the spy satellites are about to be put to work scanning for the arena. What does Panem have planned for this year's Games?

Stay tuned, my peeps~!

Ja ne~! ;D