Chapter Summary: The story begins.
Disclaimers, Ratings, Warnings, etc.: See Prologue.
Gundam Wing © Sunrise/Sotsu. Used without permission and not for profit.
With high hopes, humans leave Earth to start a new life in space colonies. However, using great military power, the United Earth Sphere Alliance soon seizes control of one colony after another in the name of "justice" and "peace."
The year is After Colony 195.
Operation Meteor: in a move to counter the Alliance's tyranny, rebel citizens of certain colonies scheme to bring new weapons to the Earth, disguising them as meteors. However, Alliance headquarters had already caught on to this operation.
Episode One: The Meteor She Saw
April 6th, After Colony 195, Alliance Surveillance Satellite #1613
Over the past two decades, "There's nothing going on out here" had become the daily mantra for those brave souls now living and working in outer space, especially for the crews of the United Earth Sphere Alliance's surveillance satellites.
According to them, nothing ever happened at 36,210 kilometers above Earth's Equator. [1]
Since there wasn't much of anything coming from the five Lagrange Point colony clusters, there wasn't much up there for them to surveil. The crews usually shrugged off anything strange as old satellites fragments or pieces of meteorite entering the atmosphere. At times, it was the odd shuttle going to or returning from yet another "peace" conference with the Colonies.
That "nothing ever happens in outer space" attitude was why the Alliance's satellite surveillance crews judged that there was nothing remarkable about five metallic objects entering the wave course for atmospheric entry. Yet in one of those orbiting observation satellites, a young radar operator decided something unusual was going on.
"Sir," he said, "radar has confirmed a moving object coming from the L1 cluster. It's in the AX position, and changing its course to GY. It'll reach the atmosphere in six hundred seconds."
Answering the report, a young captain of the Alliance Space Force floated towards the console. Because of inertia, his body wanted to keep moving, but he stopped himself by grabbing the back of the surveillance officer's chair. One had to be careful when making even the smallest move in zero gravity, but thanks to months of training, his movements were smooth.
"So, there's not just one?" the Captain asked, looking at the five green blips on the radar screen.
"No, sir. The radar's picking up five metal objects, one from each cluster."
Hearing this, the Captain started issuing orders without giving the radar a second glance.
"Zechs is in the atmosphere; report your findings to him," he said in a brisk tone. "They're probably just some meteors or pieces from an ancient satellite, though."
"Yes, sir," the surveillance officer said as he put on his headset and began to relay the message.
Zechs
Many kilometers below and to the East of the satellite, a jet flew towards the rising sun, the light of which shone off its glossy, blue enameled hull and made it glow. It was a huge, bloated craft built to transport up to six mobile suits: huge, human shaped suits of robotic armor originally designed for working in space, but were now the main weapons of the Alliance.
Bloated or not, the hypersonic jet had speed on its side. Besides its high-output jet engines, it also had scram jets built into its hull so it could fly at speeds faster than Mach 10, even in the uppermost layers of the atmosphere. Now, though, it was flying in the warm lower layers at an altitude of 100 kilometers per hour, headed east towards their home base in the Japan-Asia-Pan Pacific area, or JAP Point for short.
Inside the cabin sat three men dressed in uniforms of a bygone era. In their maroon and gold-trimmed green wool jackets, matching toque-styled caps and close-fitting white pants tucked into highly shined black leather boots, the pilot, Otto Richter, and co-pilot Bruno Jaeger looked more like fighting men from the distant past than modern-day soldiers.
Their commander, OZ Specials Lieutenant Zechs Merquise, sat behind them, reading a report on a clipboard. He wore a red and white cutaway coat over a dark gray tunic, and white breeches tucked into highly polished black Calvary boots. Covering most of his face was a silver masked helmet; all anyone could see of his features were his lips and chiseled jaw line, which testified to a noble birth, and waist length pale blond hair.
Dozens of wild rumors flew around Zechs; that he bore an ugly scar under the helmet, or he'd been blinded in a duel and it somehow compensated for that disability. Yet only a select few knew the truth, chief among them his aide-de-camp, Otto Richter. Since OZ's Supreme Commander, Lt. Colonel Treize Khushrenada, was the one who allowed him to wear it, no one dared to question what the truth was.
Amongst even the rank and file, there were no doubts where Zechs' skills lay as a warrior, pilot, or a superior officer. Every man under his command was almost fanatical in their loyalty to him, and would storm Hell itself to fight the Devil if he ordered them to.
"Lieutenant Zechs, a report's come in from upstairs. It's about some falling meteors," Bruno said, "upstairs" referring to the net of surveillance satellites above them. Zechs read the documents in front of him for a moment, snorted, and then looked up at his men.
"Figures," the blond-haired man replied in a quiet, composed baritone. "Those fools in satellite surveillance are practically blind. Do they seriously think five meteorites would ride the wave course to Earth?"
"Barring a miracle, Sir, I don't think it's possible," Otto joked, a hint of a chuckle in his tenor tessitura voice. [2]
"So, it's just as Lt. Une at Headquarters warned us," Bruno added.
"That's right. It's Operation Meteor, I'm certain of it. Otto, how many of those transports can this heap catch up with?"
Reacting to Zechs' question, the curly-haired man started working on his computer terminal, and within moments, the projected courses of all five objects appeared on the screen. Otto pointed out the object closest to their current position; it appeared to be a small shuttle, and its course was taking it towards the Pacific Ocean.
"Just this one, sir," he replied as he pointed to the object. "It's heading for the JAP area, just south of Okinawa."
"One'll do just fine for a start. No reason for mercenaries like us to rush into battle for nothing but meaningless glory."
"That's a pretty bold statement, sir," Bruno said, frowning at Zechs' words. The younger officer couldn't imagine why someone, even a member of OZ's High Command, would say such a thing, but he understood his commander's meaning. Though OZ was part of the United Earth Sphere Alliance, they were also separate from them. The Alliance were the masters, the Specials were the hounds, and for OZ to avoid being alienated by them, they were discouraged from meddling in Alliance business.
"I've already told you, Bruno; I'm just a soldier, no better than anyone else," Zechs quipped in a casual tone, letting a mocking smile linger on his lips, and then said "Otto, change course so we can intercept that craft."
"Understood, sir," Otto replied, tilting the controls to alter their course. Within minutes, the OZ carrier located and began to tail the much smaller craft.
"We've caught up to the object, sir. I'll put it on the monitor screen," Bruno stated as he flipped a switch, turning on the carrier's exterior camera.
"Just as I thought," Zechs said, looking over his mens' shoulders and at the screen. Even though his exact facial expression was hidden by his mask, it seemed he didn't like war much. "So that's their little war seed, all germinated and ready to create chaos."
"Operation M," Bruno quipped with a dismissive chuckle.
"He'll have to reduce his speed," Otto interjected. "There's a commercial shuttle in his path."
"You don't think he'll shoot down the shuttle and increase his speed?" Bruno queried.
"Not a chance," Zechs replied with a cocky grin, the irony that some information had already been leaked. "Maybe he'd try it if we weren't here, but he can't do something as conspicuous as shoot down a civilian spacecraft right in front of us. Remember, he's on a secret mission."
Bad enough that a weapon powerful enough to enter the Earth's atmosphere managed to escape the notice of OZ and the Alliance; what made it worse was that an experienced combat pilot escaped their sphere of influence. In any war, human beings were the ones who controlled the weapons.
"He's entering the atmosphere. We'll follow him."
Looking at the monitor, Zechs smirked. On it, the shuttle's belly started to burn, and suddenly, it began changing its position.
"Sir! The fighter's changing its course!" Otto shouted incredulously.
"He's what?! That's suicide!" Zechs exclaimed back.
"Maybe he thinks the only way to keep a secret is to destroy the evidence!" Bruno yelped.
"That might have been his original plan, but it's speeding up! He's trying to escape!" Otto stated, checking his instruments again. The small craft was, indeed, trying to break away from its pursuers.
Though dangerous, a shuttle changing its course while entering the atmosphere wasn't impossible. The real danger was to the shuttle's fireproof panels, which could slough off from the heat and friction of entering the wave course. If that happened, it would be all over for the pilot.
"That's impossible! No spacecraft could survive that kind of heat!"
"Maybe this one can," Zechs said as he and the crew watched the "shuttle" continued to glow red. "Looks like our foes own some advanced technology."
As if to confirm Zechs' words, their target's outer shell began sloughing off to reveal its true form. Soon, the outer layer of the shuttle blew away, exposing the craft's real hull as a white fighter plane extending its wings. A few seconds later, it succeeded in entering the Earth's atmosphere, where it dropped both in speed and altitude, retrorockets firing to further decrease its acceleration. As soon as the small wings of the craft caught the air, it started gliding, as though the pilot had the intention of landing somewhere.
Inside the OZ craft, Zechs and the crew watched the monitors as their target continued its course.
"Lieutenant Zechs, what is that thing?!" Bruno exclaimed. At the younger man's call, Zechs leaned forward towards the monitor.
"A fighter jet," the masked soldier said in an icy tone, his eyes narrowing behind his silver mask. "So that's the colonies' new "secret weapon," eh?"
"It looks and moves just like a bird!"
"Sir," Otto interjected, "we've reached cruising altitude. We can attack him now."
"Okay," Bruno added eagerly. "Let's fire off a warning shot with our machine guns."
"No!" Zechs exclaimed, angered. "No warning shots for him! Shoot him down, now!"
"Lieutenant Zechs, what...?!" Bruno queried.
"I thought our mission was to capture the weapon and bring it to headquarters, but our real target's the fighter pilot inside."
"Lieutenant!" Otto exclaimed. "The enemy fighter is reversed its course! He's headed straight for us!"
"Damn it. Is my Leo repaired and ready to use?" Zechs asked as he stood and headed towards the back of the flight deck.
"Yes, sir, but are you planning to destroy that fighter with a mobile suit?" Bruno replied with an astonished look.
"You got it."
"Then wouldn't an Aries light speed model be more suitable than the Leo?"
They all knew that in an aerial fight, the land-based Leo mobile suits were slow, cumbersome and impractical. However, while the Aries was faster and made for aerial combat, its armoring was weak, and due to it being top heavy, lacked the power to ascend at speed. A skilled enough pilot could shoot down an Aries before its pilot could do more than sneeze.
"My Leo's fast enough. Besides, if he wants a fight, I should respect our enemy's bravery and give him my best effort."
With that, Zechs left the flight deck, moving towards the cargo hold where they stored the mobile suits. There wasn't a man on board who didn't know of Zechs' skills as a mobile suit pilot; they were legendary, and he wasn't called the Lightning Count for nothing.
In the carrier's hangar, the huge forms of a Leo and two Aries were fastened. Mobile suits were huge, human shaped machines originally designed for space construction and mining resources. The first ones to develop them into combat weapons was a group called the Romefeller Foundation, who had started out as a loose group of companies shipping foodstuffs, medicines, and supplies to and from the colonies. Within a decade, they'd shaken hands with the privileged classes of the Alliance and became a powerful military organization.
The technique to use mobile suits as a weapon in combat were developed by a group called the Organization of the Zodiac, or OZ for short. Now known as a universally usable weapon, mobile suits had become the main vehicles for the Alliance, replacing many of their tanks and combat helicopters. This led to OZ having its own army within the ranks of the United Earth Sphere Alliance, and that was what the elite troops called the Specials were.
The Specials also carried a unique status within the Alliance military; even the lowest ranking OZ soldier held the rank of an Alliance lieutenant, and he, or she, was also granted the title of an aristocrat. In Zechs' case, he was a Lt. Colonel in the Alliance, and held the title of Count Merquise in OZ's hierarchy.
The mass-produced Leo looked like a sturdy, cyclopean giant; its drab, olive green hull the very image of a military use vehicle. Though used most for ground combat, Leos were equipped with two Vernier rocket engines at their hips, so they had a certain degree of aerial mobility.
By contrast, the Aries units were created solely for aerial combat, and were almost useless on land. Even its armor was inferior to that of the Leo, though it more than made up for that deficit in mobility, thanks to its retractable legs and six high capacity Vernier engines.
The pilots of the loaded Aries models were also on board, but since they weren't prepared for battle, they would back him up. After nodding as if saying "I'll leave it to you," Zechs went towards the mobile suit hangar located in the rear part of the plane.
Zechs opened the hatch in his Leo's breastplate and slipped into the cockpit. The propulsion system, already on stand-by, came to life with the flick of a switch; his mental attitude was that any time was an appropriate time for a battle.
After the hatch closed, a computer keyboard and monitor slid into place while more monitors ringing Zechs like a halo hummed to life and started showing him his surroundings. There were no windows in a mobile suit's cockpit; a live feed from a camera "eye" located in the suit's head caught left, right, front and rear views and projected the images on to the monitors surroundings the pilot.
The piloting system consisted of a throttle and control lever sticking out of the arms of the pilot's seat, switches lined up on a control panel, and pedals to control leg movements, such as walking and running, installed in the floor just in front of the seat. When compared to the fighter planes of centuries past, the controls, programs, and techniques needed to the steer a mobile suit were much more complicated.
Zechs spared a glance at the rear-view monitor and verified the cargo hatch opened, then inclined the control lever to extend the right arm of the Leo. Its hand grasped a huge Dober rifle attached to the partition and slung it over the shoulder. The enemy's capabilities were unclear, but he judged that he might not be able to compete with it, even with the Leo's 105-millimeter rifle. He then got the Leo to walk backwards. He turned the unit turned around and, as though he were skydiving, leapt out into the air.
The scene on the monitor first mirrored the blue sky from the hatch of the transport plane, then the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean far below. Zechs ignited his suit's Vernier engines and, after steadying the hull's position, looked at the radar, trying to locate the enemy craft.
"Lieutenant Zechs, I'll dispatch back-up as soon as the Aries units are ready!" Bruno quipped over the radio.
"Roger!" the masked pilot replied, his demeanor business-like. A few seconds later, he heard a loud buzzing as a small red light flared, and as he noticed it, Zechs exclaimed "What the Hell? He's above me!"
As soon as he read the position of the light point, he turned the suit around. The monitors changed into blue sky, and in the one in front of him, the white fighter plane was reflected. Zechs pulled at the control lever, bringing the beam rifle into position, and cross hairs appeared on the monitor before him.
Catching the target in the cross hairs, he immediately pulled the trigger. He fired a second shot at the target after made a quick rotation and escaped. Unable to evade the second shot, the shell hit the target in the lower part of its hull. Its balance shaken, the target plunged down towards Terra Firma.
"Great shooting, Lieutenant Zechs!" Bruno exclaimed over the comm.
"That's it? He's finished? That was almost too easy..." Zechs muttered to himself in stunned disbelief.
The masked man wondered what could have possessed this would-be enemy to risk his or her life to come to Earth, only to face certain defeat at his hands because they weren't used to piloting in Earth's atmosphere. If he or she had come from the colonies, there were plenty of possible scenarios, and none of them boded well for him or OZ.
A minute later, the two Aries suits from the OZ jet caught up to Zechs and established radio contact with him.
"Lieutenant, should we take you back to the ship, or chase after that fighter?" the pilot of one of the Aries units asked Zechs over the comm link.
"We'll follow him with the carrier and capture him on the ground," he replied. "It's our best chance to find out what Operation Meteor's all about."
"You don't think there's a chance he'll self-detonate?"
"No, I don't. No one wants to die up here. He's made it all the way to the Earth, so he won't commit suicide without seeing its beauty for himself."
Suddenly, the plane on the screen restored itself as the hull twisted and the wings retracted, as if a sleeping giant were awakening.
"It's transforming into a mobile suit!" Zechs exclaimed in shock.
"Sir, what kind of machine is that?!" came the shocked reply from the pilot of the second Aires.
"Not a clue," Zechs replied, then thought I can't believe anyone besides the Alliance and OZ having the technology to create such an advanced suit.
Zechs knew the organization against the Alliance comprised of people born in the colonies, and who never set one foot onto the Earth. This might be the case for the pilot of this fighter plane, too. He fired at the enemy craft twice, maneuvering his Leo as it fell through the atmosphere.
"Lieutenant, let us take care of it," the pilot of the first Aries said as they attached a parachute pack on the Leo's back.
"Thanks. Do it."
One of the Aries pilots attached a parachute pack to the back of Zechs' Leo, and then both Aries took off after the enemy suit, leaving the Leo behind to float down to the ocean below on its trio of parachutes.
Opening the parachutes, Zechs decided to follow the battle below on the monitor. Because the surface of the sea is close, he would be at a disadvantage in a fight with his Leo. He didn't expect that two of his men could be defeated by one mobile suit, but Zechs' expectations were proven wrong. The shots the two Aries fired hit the target, but it shrugged them off without so much as a scratch left behind.
"He's got strength... perhaps..."
The front monitor changed into blue sky, and in the middle of it, the white fighter plane stood reflected. Zechs pulled the control lever and as he brought the Dober rifle into position, crosshairs appeared on the monitor. Catching the target in the crosshairs, he presses the trigger immediately. He shot at the target which made a quick rotation and escaped. Unable to evade its pursuers, the shots hit the target in the lower part of its hull, throwing their balance off and causing the target to take a long plunge down.
As Zechs watched, the Aries fired on the enemy suit, but with no discernible damage or results.
"Holy...! It's turning around!"
"Never mind! Just keep shooting!"
Suddenly, the enemy suit turned around, aiming its beam rifle at its pursuers. In the next moment, the two Aries exploded, the red, glowing debris left a trail of smoke as it fell towards the surface of the sea.
"He blew two Aries out of the sky with just one shot! Not too shabby!" Zechs exclaimed as he watched the scene play out on the monitor. The Dober rifle of his Leo didn't have the capacity to make such an impact. It could, at most, pierce through the armor of another Alliance mobile suit, while the beam rifle of this new suit vaporized two Aries.
The thoughts springing up in Zechs' heart at that moment... was this the nature of the warrior? Or was it the pride of a Specials' ace pilot?
Zechs released his Leo from its parachutes and dove in free fall towards the enemy suit, drawing his beam saber en route. The transforming suit fired at his Leo and missed, but Zechs plunged on, striking the enemy suit full on and wrapping itself around the other mobile suit, immobilizing it for a face to face plunge into the sea. opened the cockpit hatch and leaped free of the tangled suits, waiting until he was clear before releasing his parachute.
"Lieutenant Zechs, are you all right?" Bruno's voice said as the masked pilot drifted to Earth.
"Yeah. Sorry to cause you any concern, Bruno. I did what I could."
"We've finished analyzing your combat data."
"And what are your findings?"
"Judging by the strength of the enemy suit's outer armor, it could only be made of Gundanium alloy."
"So it WAS a Gundam!" Zechs exclaimed as he watched the Gundam and his Leo fall into the sea, then thought If that suit was made from Gundanium alloy, then...
"The suit might've survived hitting the water undamaged, but at this height, anyone inside it was smashed like an egg."
"Sir, a carrier from the Alliance Navy Yard is asking us if they should salvage that downed suit."
"Let 'em go ahead, and inform them that the "treasure" sank in the JAP Point, approximately thirty-three kilometers south of Yakosuka Base."
"Yes, sir."
"They're offering to salvage it?" Zechs mocked as he continued to drift towards the sea. "Hah! No wonder there's no future left for the Alliance Military! Nothing but a pack of mutts scurrying for a reward!"
Hiiro
Kilometers away from the OZ carrier, as the rising sun crested over the Earth, a small entry craft resembling a shuttle stood revealed. Inside, clad in a space suit and helmet, a dark-haired youth of about fourteen prepared for his final approach to Earth.
"All systems normal. Will start operations in seven minutes. Right on schedule," the young pilot said into an audio recorder. An alarm sounded, so he checked his proximity monitor and found a transportation shuttle nearing his position. "A commercial shuttle?"
Inside the entry capsule, the pilot retracted the protective casing on the craft's main weapon and prepared to fire on the shuttle.
"Target's relative speed is 01545. Auto lock, engaged. Any obstacles to atmospheric entry must be shot down."
He checked the monitors as another proximity alarm sounded. He found the OZ carrier was within range of his position and gaining on him fast.
"Earth's assault craft?!" the boy exclaimed. "Figures the Alliance would already be onto me. Damn it. There's no choice, then..."
The young shuttle pilot flipped switches, turned dials, and pressed buttons to adjust his course, speed, and heading. Since entering the atmosphere, the need for camouflage was no longer necessary, so he jettisoned it. Underneath was a sleek white, blue, and red jet almost resembling a giant bird.
"I'm here. I've finally made it to Earth."
The Alliance ship opened fire on the jet, but its young pilot barrel-rolled his craft, evading the shots with ease.
"I can escape these losers, no problem," the pilot said, then heard a beeping noise and paused to check the forward monitor screen. "Alter the mission?! That carrier is loaded with OZ mobile suits! Judging by its speed, there's at least three of 'em on board, and they're changing their course to intercept me!"
"Roger that, mission! Returning to shoot down the OZ ship!" the pilot replied to his contact, a feral grin threatening to curl his lips. Checking the frontal display again, he readjusted his course and headed back towards the enemy craft.
The organization against the Alliance were, without exception, made up of people born in the colonies who never set one foot onto the Earth in their lives. Of course, this was also case for the pilot of this fighter plane. The enemy Leo fired at him twice, and he maneuvered his craft as it fell through the atmosphere. In the cockpit of the fighter jet, alarms sounded as the cockpit shuddered from the impact.
"Shit!" the pilot swore violently. "Left engine's drive system's malfunctioning! He's good!"
Reaching up, the young pilot pushed an overhead lever forward, and a slight shudder rippled throughout the cockpit as his fighter jet began to change its form once again. When it was complete, the fighter was now a mostly white mobile suit. Another lever pulled, and the suit turned its head, giving its pilot an unobstructed view of the pair of Aries suits before they resumed shooting at him.
The young pilot turned his suit around, aimed his buster rifle and fired, vaporizing the two Aries suits pursuing him with a single shot. As they disintegrated, the young pilot laughed, loud and on the edge of reason, before turning his attention back to his monitors. That enemy Leo was still out there, and the sooner he destroyed it, the sooner he could complete his real mission.
"One more to go!" he chortled.
The Leo released its parachute pack and dove towards the white suit in free-fall, drawing its beam sword en route. The young pilot took careful aim at the Leo, fired... and missed when it dodged the shot at the last second. The Leo plunged on, striking the white suit full on while it grabbed the arm holding the beam sword, then the Leo wrapped itself around the white suit and immobilized it for a crash landing into the sea.
The last thing the boy saw before hitting the water was the pilot of the Leo opening his cockpit and bailing out of his suit, hitting silk as soon as he was clear.
The impact with the ocean's surface rattled the pilot of the white suit, but that was all it did. As both crafts sank beneath the waves, the teen bailed out and used his rebreather unit to inflate his spacesuit, then shot up to the surface like a cork. As he bobbed, a swift bit of calculation told him the space port at Yakosuka Base was about thirty clicks south by southwest of his current position.
He was in for one hell of a long swim.
Relena
Inside the civilian craft the young pilot almost shot down, Thomas Dorlan, the Alliance's Vice-Minister of Foreign Affairs, was on his way home from a peace summit on one of the Beta 3 colonies in the L1 cluster.
Dorlan was a tall, lean man in the prime of his life who sported a full beard the same rich brown color as his hair, and his brown eyes were clear and sharp. His dark gray suit and gray-green tie showed none of the signs of wear and tear traveling caused; not surprising considering he'd had it pressed early that morning.
A chime resounded and the passengers heard the dulcet tone of a feminine voice over the intercom.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the shuttle will be soon be entering the atmosphere. Please remain seated and fasten your safety belts," came the flight attendant's announcement. A moment later, a purser wearing magnetic adhesion shoes walked down the aisle to check the belts of all the passengers.
"Minister Dorlan? Just checking to see if you and your daughter are buckled in... okay, that's fine," the purser said in a cheerful tone as Dorlan verified his and his young companion's seat belts were, indeed, fastened. Satisfied, the purser nodded and walked away with a smile.
Seated next to him, Relena Dorlan turned her face away from her father and returned to looking out the portal to the Earth below. She was an intelligent girl of 14, and had a sweet face with wide Nile blue eyes, a rounded jaw tapering to a strong, feminine chin, a pert nose and soft pink lips that were neither too thin nor too lush. Her straight, waist length hair, which was either dark blonde or light brown depending on the light, floated about her head, kept out of her face by two thin braids bound at the back with an elastic band.
Unbeknownst to Dorlan, Relena had a secret. She now sported a temporary tattoo of a blue rose on her right shoulder blade, and her first and only body piercing in her navel, both early birthday presents to herself. The tattoo wasn't one of those cheap ones from a vending machine, either; it was created with tattoo ink painted right on to her fair skin. The only reason it wasn't real was because she wasn't sixteen yet. A fourteen-year-old getting a body piercing wasn't uncommon in the colonies, but you still needed a parent's written permission to get inked before you turned 16.
"What's wrong, Relena? Aren't you glad to be returning to Earth?" he asked.
"No, not a bit," Relena answered, not bothering to hide her irritation.
"I'm sorry we couldn't spend any time together, sweetheart, but work kept interfering. I feel bad about dragging you from colony to colony like this."
Relena heaved a soft sigh. From the lowering of his eyelids, she knew her father felt guilty; his work kept him busy, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep her company. This visit to the colonies was to be an early fifteenth birthday treat for her, but his schedule became full of meetings with colony representatives.
If one thought about the current situation between Earth and the Colonies, how important could the life of one mid-level diplomat be? Opportunities for colonial representatives to submit petitions to Earth were rare, but Dorlan understood how the people of the colonies felt, which was unusual for a member of the Alliance's diplomatic corps. What would the result be if the situation between the powerless Colonies and the Alliance, who based their reign on military might, continued as it was?
Since he was the only one in the Diplomatic Corps who understood the situation between Earth and the colonies, he had to listen. Those meetings dragged on and on, so he had no time to spare for his daughter. Relena tried to keep up a cheerful front, but failed to maintain it.
"It's okay, Dad, but next time we come to outer space, how about leaving yourself some free time?"
Looking at her father for a moment, Relena turned back to look out the window as the thick portal shield slid into place. Soon, the passengers heard the thunder-like rumble from outside the machine, its shaking transmitted throughout the hull, and some started to worry whether the ship would break apart.
For someone experiencing re-entry for the first time, it would almost make you die from fright, but Relena was an old hand at it. To her, it was like riding a roller coaster; a little scary, but fun and exciting, too.
A few minutes later, the shields lowered, and outside, the blue horizon stretched out like a bow. Beyond it were the rays of the rising sun. Then, just above, something reflected the sunlight and glittered, catching the girl's attention. Relena saw a bright object in the sky, and both she and her father turned to watch out the opposite shuttle window.
"Huh? Dad, what is that?" Relena asked as she stared at the shining object, which blazed a blinding red. From a distance, it looked like a small, white shuttle.
It was so small, she couldn't imagine how even three people could ever fit inside it. As the shuttle passed through the exosphere and into the thermosphere, Relena lowered the window shield, giving herself an excellent view of the small spacecraft.
"Isn't that an atmospheric entry capsule?" Relena asked her father, her eyes growing wide.
"Operation Meteor!" Dorlan exclaimed, alarmed.
Not wanting to answer the unasked questions flying through his daughter's mind, Dorlan closed his sharp eyes and tried to think of something he could tell her. When Relena's gaze returned to the window, she gasped in shock as she saw the small shuttle fall to pieces. Did it explode, or did it melt from the heat of re-entry?
As it turned out, neither was the case. What appeared to be a shuttle was nothing but a disguise for its real form, a sleek, jet-like plane. As Relena watched, any further words died on her lips as she saw the white jet fighter appear from under its camouflage cover and disappear from her sight just as fast.
Several minutes later, they arrived at Haneda Shuttle Port, near JAP Point, and it was busier than normal. Shortly after Vice Foreign Minister Dorlan and Relena disembarked from their shuttle and made their way through to the exit, they found themselves hounded by a crowd of reporters.
"Mr. Dorlan! Any comments on what issues you discussed at the Colonial Summit?"
"What were the Colonies' demands to the Alliance? Are they trying to form their own coalition again?"
"It's a hostile situation with the colonies, isn't it, Mr. Dorlan?!"
"The people are anxious to know when the Colonies will declare war on us! What do you think, Mr. Dorlan?"
"Minister Dorlan, the press would like a statement. Any statement for the press?"
"Please tell us something, Mr. Dorlan!"
"My daughter and I just got back to Earth," Dorlan snapped at the mob, "can't we get a few minutes' peace?"
As much as he wanted to, Dorlan gave them nothing in reply, at least not about the summit he'd just returned from. All he knew was certain factions in outer space, led by members of the Barton Foundation, planned to start something Dekim Barton called Operation Meteor. This operation was meant to coincide with the twentieth anniversary of Hiiro Yui's assassination... which was Tuesday, the same day as Relena's birthday.
Without thinking, he drew Relena closer to him to protect her from being crushed by the press of bodies. The reporters soon gave up their pursuit of father and daughter when they found the pair being greeted by an escort of three men dressed in the olive drab and dun uniforms of the Alliance Army.
"Welcome back to Earth, Minister Dorlan," the officer, a Major, intoned in a resonant voice. "Please come with us. A car from the Defense Department is waiting outside."
"Right now?" Dorlan responded, glaring at the men. "Sorry, but that's not convenient for me. I have some things to pick up for my daughter's birthday party on Tuesday..."
"I've arranged for a separate car to take your daughter anywhere she wishes to go."
Since they were talking about her like she wasn't there, Relena chimed in with a sarcastic "Please, don't worry about me. I'm a big girl; I can find my own way home."
As if to point out the Major's rude behavior, she lifted a slender hand and performed an improvised yet elegant half bow. Her father inclined his head towards her, as if to apologize once again for leaving her to her own devices.
"Well, let's go, then," the Major said in a gruff voice. "General Septem is waiting for your report."
Once outside, Dorlan sat next to the Major in the back of a limo, while Relena headed in the opposite direction, looking at her father as he left.
Relena decided to leave the area before any nosy reporters noticed and mobbed her. She turned away from the space port's passenger loading area and began strolling down one of the wide sidewalks along the coastal road and the quiet, fenced-off beach. Because military machines taking off and landing took up most of the movements in the space port, no one came through this area anymore, so she knew no one would hound her there.
The setting sun shone on her white jacket and light gray skirt, coloring them a brilliant shade of orange. The cool, crisp wind blowing in from the sea made her hair flutter and brought the scent of the sea to her nose, but the tranquility of the moment was blown away by a sudden burst of anger.
"Dad, don't you realize that my birthday's the day after tomorrow?" Relena shouted, imagining her father was in front of her. A moment later, she dropped her head, shook it, and added "A normal girl would flip out over this and run away... but where would I go?"
Being on an access road, there was little traffic on it, which Relena was grateful for. The shuttle that carried and her father home was the last one of the day. A shadow darkened the ground and she looks up to see a cargo plane passing overhead.
"A military plane. This place would already be a space port if it weren't for those damned eyesores," Relena looked up into the sky, not bothering hiding her hatred. A moment later, Relena sighed, smiled to herself and added "Well, guess it's time to head home. Mom will be worried."
With another sigh, Relena headed back towards the space port. From there, she planned to use her cell phone to call home and have a car pick her up. Then, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye; something she'd overlooked before. Relena turned to look out at the sunset and saw something... or someone... washed up on the beach below.
"A body!" she exclaimed.
Without hesitation, she ran to the nearest gate, then dashed through it and flew down the steps to the beach below, cautious as she approached the body lying in the surf. With a bit of difficulty, she grabbed the rebreather unit on his back, dragged the prone figure further up on to the sand, and grumbled something about him being heavy for such a scrawny-looking guy.
"A military uniform... is he a soldier? He seems kind-of short," she quipped as the youth groaned and moved a little. [3] "I'd better call for help!"
Taking her cell phone out of the pocket of her skirt, Relena dialed 1-1-9 to summon an ambulance. [4] When she finished, she ran back to where the space suit clad figure lay, knelt in the sand beside him, and then removed the helmet.
"Why, he's just a boy my age," Relena said to herself, surprised when she saw the face appearing below the helmet was a boy of 14 or 15 years old, just like her. His hair was the rich color of dark chocolate, and his facial features had an Asian cast to them. He was a good-looking boy, and familiar looking, too, but Relena could sense a strong will in him none of the boys at school possessed.
Maybe it was the fresh air that revived him, but the boy's eyes, blue eyes, snapped open. He leaped to his feet and, almost panic-stricken, held his hand over his face, shielding it from Relena's view.
"Don't try to move," Relena said, her voice calm. "I've called an ambulance. They'll be here shortly."
"Did you see...?!" the boy demanded.
"See what?" she asked. Relena looked at their surroundings, not understanding the boy's question, or the reason why he was so panicky. She couldn't imagine there was anyone around who'd get her into trouble if she saw... whatever he was talking about, not realizing the boy was referring to his face.
A moment later, the sound of an ambulance siren came from the street. Reacting to the noise, the boy thumbed open a panel in his spacesuit and pressed a red button. He'd set off an explosive charge on his spacesuit that lifted him off his feet and hurled him back several feet, but the weak blast didn't seem to give him the result he'd expected.
"Shit!" he cursed in an angry voice. "It misfired?! Dammit, J...!"
The boy paused, then ran towards the stairs and the approaching medics, knocking the first of them off the access stairs to the beach in his race to the only available transportation - the ambulance.
"Hey! There they are! Down there!"
"Hurry, this way! Hey, who are you? ULLLFF!"
"What are you...?! Hey! Stop, you!"
The youth fought and overcame the ambulance personnel, slugging one on the jaw and kicking the other over the railing. He finished running up the steps and attacked the driver, kicking him out through the passenger side window, and drove off in the ambulance. Relena made it to the top of the stairs in time to see the ambulance drive away at speed. She stood and watched as the lights of the vehicle and the sound of the sirens faded in the distance.
"My name's Relena Dorlan," she said, holding her hand out in greeting. "What's yours?"
Treize
In an opera house in Bremen, Germany, many well-dressed ladies and gentlemen sat back to enjoy a matinee performance of "La Boehme." On the stage, a soprano and tenor's sonorous voices sang out before a splendid installation, while the conductor in the orchestra box let his baton dance like a butterfly. The atmosphere created was such that it would be difficult for a commoner to gain access to the performance, and that was the way it had to be. Each spectator belonged to the aristocracy.
On the second level was a box seat rumored to not only cost several times as much as a normal seat, but couldn't buy unless you were a noble, and that it existed as a kind of status symbol. A young man in his mid-twenties, wearing an OZ uniform, sat in one of the seats in this box, watching the performers on the stage through a pair of opera glasses.
The young man wore his shining brown hair short, a few stray locks hung down onto his high, broad forehead. Sharp blue eyes and a well-shaped nose graced his fine cut face. Treize Khushrenada carried himself with a noble posture, expressing his aristocratic upbringing with his entire body. He was one of the managing staff of Romefeller, the "mother" of OZ, who made him their leader. Then Treize's graceful forked eyebrows twitched, as though he sensed someone entering the balcony and standing behind him.
"Excuse me, Your Excellency? Lieutenant Merquise is on the line," the usher said in a quiet voice.
"Thank you. Transfer it to here, please," Treize replied, even though they disturbed his theater visit. From the way he spoke, he knew a message would be arriving sooner or later. Even though the opera house was old, the management equipped it with all the latest conveniences. The valet set a small netbook on the table next to him and opened it, turning it on.
A moment later, Zechs' silver mask appeared before him on the screen and began to brief his superior officer.
"So, you lost three of your mobile suits, eh?" Treize asked, unperturbed as he set the opera glasses aside to give the conversation his full attention.
"Yes, sir," the image of Zechs replied.
"It's not like you to be so careless, Zechs. It'll cost me an hour's worth of headaches to come up with an excuse the Alliance big shots will swallow, especially that idiot, Septem..."
"If they get curious, you can tell them we were up against a suit made of Gundanium alloy."
"You're kidding," the OZ commander said. If Zechs' revelation shocked him, it didn't show on his face.
"It's true, sir," the masked man replied. "Just imagine if it was actually built on a colony..."
Treize leaned closer to the netbook's screen and stroked his chin, deep in thought as he remembered an incident in the L5 cluster almost four months earlier.
"One thing's for sure; something like this would never have happened if we'd been in OZ fifteen years ago."
Fifteen years earlier, a team of eight scientists hired by OZ to research and develop mobile suits suitable for fighting in a war. This team of experts soon manufactured one suit they named Proto Zero as an experiment. They designed the first prototype on the basis that Gundanium alloy, a special, non-ferrous material only refined in outer space, was to be used in its construction.
The team chose Gundanium for their first prototype because it was many times stronger and more resistant to fire and beam weaponry than the Titanium alloy later used for OZ's newer models. They chose the alloy for its natural resistance to radar and sonar, and any mobile suits built from the alloy would be invisible to both.
When OZ deemed the suit to be too big, too powerful, and too expensive to mass produce, the scientists went back to the drawing board.
They gave the Proto Zero a second code name: Gundam, for its Gundanium armor. [5]
Soon, two more prototype suits with reduced capabilities, the Proto Leo and the Tallgeese, were designed and built out of titanium, but Romefeller scrapped them in the design phase, too. Shortly after an act of sabotage almost killed three of the eight scientists, they all fled to the Colonies to escape from OZ. Rumor had it even the designs for those two early suits no longer existed.
"Treize, do I need to remind you that, fifteen years ago, we were only four and nine?" Zechs joked, then turned serious. "So, what do you think? Are they Gundams?"
"Can't imagine them being anything else; the Alliance's surveillance of the Colonies has always been spotty at best, and it's gotten worse since Septum's utter cock-up in the L5 cluster last winter."
"The Alliance Navy's on their way here to "help" recover the enemy suit."
"All right, I'll let them know that we'll take care of it ourselves, and then I'll send out my specialists in undersea searches. You'll be in charge after that."
"Yes, sir."
"I'm sure you're already aware of this, Zechs, but we're about to enter an important period in history, and time is of the essence. We don't want to do anything to provoke the Alliance."
"I understand, sir. Merquise out."
On the screen, Zechs saluted, and then cut the connection, the screen going black as the transmission ended. After unclasping his fingers, Treize closed the net book, and then turned his gaze back to the singers on the decorated stage.
Solve the small problems before tackling the big ones, eh..? Treize thought, remembering his meeting later with the Alliance generals. Just then, a slight smile played at the corners of his lips. His meetings with them were more entertaining than the opera on the stage. It was a good thing he could enjoy it.
An hour and a half later, at Alliance headquarters, fifteen men in dress uniforms sat around a conference room table. They were the Alliance officials Treize mentioned to Zechs in their earlier conversation. Treize entered the room and took his place midway down the table, in a position of relative importance.
"Gentlemen. Sorry I'm late," Treize apologized as he sat down.
At the head of the table sat Field Marshall Luciano Noventa, leader of the Alliance's military force, who gave Treize a stern look. Though in his mid-sixties, the elder soldier commanded the respect of most of the men in the room. The tunic and trousers of his uniform were as pristine and snowy white as his hair, but still did nothing to hide the blood on his hands.
"Colonel Khushrenada, I've heard your man, Lieutenant Merquise, lost three mobile suits when his carrier entered the atmosphere," a stocky, bald-pated man in a green uniform tunic, General Cesare Venti, said in a solemn tone.
"Yes, sir. Is there a problem?"
"You wasted three of our mobile suits just to bring a minor rebel faction to heel!" the man seated to his immediate right, General Clarence Septem, bellowed, running a nervous hand through his pomaded black hair, the perpetual sneer he wore making his mustache twitch. [6] Septum was a crass, loudmouthed martinet whose bigotry and lack of care for the soldiers serving under him never failed to piss Treize off. In the younger man's eyes, Septem was a monster who'd wipe out the entire population of one colony with poison gas just because he suspected they were about to rebel.
"And because of their sacrifice, we prevented that "minor rebellion" from developing into an all-out war," Treize countered.
"I'm not talking about your results, God damn it! You're abusing the Alliance's precious military resources!"
"Hmph. "Precious military resources," eh? Are you talking about the soldiers who lost their lives today, or are you only talking about the loss of a few mobile suits?"
"You bastard! Are you ridiculing me?!" Septum demanded, his voice almost shrill as it reverberated off the walls.
"Septum, calm down and keep quiet," an aggravated Noventa snapped, then turned to Treize. "Colonel Khushrenada... Treize... something like this could happen again, so ask your men to exercise caution."
"Yes, sir," Treize replied, sounding contrite. A moment later, the room darkened and diagrams of the Earth and the five colony clusters flashed on to a large video screen.
"All right," Venti said, a laser pointer in his hand, "let's move on to today's agenda, which is how we're going to prevent the Colonies from forming a new coalition..."
Well, the Alliance Military has grown complacent during this peaceful time, Treize thought, chuckling to himself. My organization, OZ, are the authors of the new future. It's only a matter of time now...
Meanwhile, four more atmospheric entry capsules, disguised as meteors, had crashed down at other points on the Earth. Each looked different, but four of the five all start moving with the same goal.
Duo - Near Lake Michigan, United States, approximately 9,920 Km from where the first Gundam crashed.
While falling along the re-entry path into the atmosphere, a rounded cone-shaped capsule glowed red, and after slowing down with the resistance to the air, deployed an umbrella-shaped air break. Seen from below, it looked almost like a mushroom. After the glow ceased, the bottom snapped open and nozzles became visible from below. Immediately after their ignition, the huge jet of flame snuffed out, and the craft buckled some as the capsule's rate of descent decreased.
Moments later, the capsule plunged into the lake with an explosive BOOM, breaking apart from the shock and creating a giant plume of water in its wake. A few moments later, a black shadow dove out of the water; it was the figure of a mobile suit, the form of it like the one Zechs shot down, but its head, feet and torso were black, not white.
In the cockpit of the black and white mobile suit sat a fifteen-year-old boy. His long, chestnut brown hair was bound in a meter-long braid that trailed down past his posterior, and his cobalt blue eyes sparkled with mischief. The clothing he wore were a sharp contrast to his cheerful, easygoing demeanor; they were the same somber black as his mobile suit's torso, and the tab collar of his over shirt and neck of his undershirt resembled the cassock and collar worn by Catholic priests, paired with black jodhpurs and short leather boots.
"So that's our first mission, huh, buddy? That's not far from here..." His target was the Leo manufacturing plant near Detroit, and the information on its installations and armaments scrolled past. When the data on the number of troops came up, his wide cobalt blue eyes stopped scanning, narrowed, and he uttered an expletive as he found an unexpected complication.
The problem was there was many non-military personnel working at the plant, and the last thing he wanted on his conscience were the deaths of civilians whose only "crimes" forced them to labor for the enemy.
The boy's fingers danced around the complicated control panels situated beside each other, playing with the switches. Finally, his fingers hit the keyboard with a bang. On the sub-monitor to his right was the picture of an old man who radiated a somewhat dubious air. The man in the photo wore a coral Hawaiian shirt, punk rock sunglasses and an enormous, cheesy grin. He was almost bald, with only a fringe of wavy, graying brown hair, and it, his mustache and goatee were his most distinctive features.
"Mike Howard... that's the guy Pestilence told me about! [7] I've gotta contact him, but before I do that, we've gotta mission to complete!"
The boy grasped the left control lever and his right hand laid on the throttle, which he pushed forward. With a loud "boom," the accelerator responded and he felt his back press against the seat.
Later, at the Alliance's Leo manufacturing plant, the black Gundam, Deathscythe, descended to start destroying the facility.
"Uh! What the Hell?! We're under attack!"
Just as the soldier spoke, the black suit leapt into the air, igniting the Vernier engines on its back. He danced down on the plant, firing the Vulcan cannons installed near its head, and then drew the staff attached to the back. From a port near the tip, a curved, blade-like energy beam extended, glowing a bright neon green color. With the burning factory as a backdrop, the black mobile suit towering over them looked exactly like Shinigami, the God of Death himself, with his scythe at the ready.
After mowing down the unfinished Leos and destroying the assembly lines with a swipe of his beam scythe, the young pilot shouted "DIE! EVERYONE WHO SEES ME DIES!" over the suit's external speakers.
That got the civilian workers running for their lives, which pleased Duo to no end. [8] No innocents would die tonight if he could help it. The only ones dying were the OZ and Alliance scum who used these poor people as slaves.
Moments later, several Leos confronted Deathscythe, and were wiped out in a single, wide-arcing swipe. They were replaced by others, trying to block Duo's escape, and he waded into them without a thought.
"This is Duo reporting!" he shouted with a cackle. "My primary mission's complete and the factory's destroyed. I might as well play with the last of these losers while I slice my way outta here!"
Trowa - Dover, UK
On the open sea, approximately 50 kilometers off the southwestern coast of England, a falling capsule, supported by many parachutes, slowed its speed and then dove into the sea.
When it emerged again, its outer shell broke apart with a hiss of cooling metal, exposing the mobile suit hidden within. Except for part of the head, arms, the shoulders and hips were a bright vermilion in color, and its chest area painted orange. There were differences in anatomical detail, but overall, the suit bore a striking resemblance to the one Zechs had sunk in Japan.
The mobile suit swam through the water and landed by the Alliance spaceport bordering the port city of Dover. Without warning, it started shooting the Gatling cannon attached to its left arm. The outer wall of the Alliance spaceport shredded like wet tissue paper and the mobile suits stored inside the hangar went up in flames.
The mobile suit which started the attack opened the right and left side of the double door of its orange armored breast plate. Inside, two Gatling cannons became visible. The gun barrels started whizzing, turning at high speed. While white smoke gushed out, bullet casings were strewn everywhere.
"Command, this is the Space Port at Dover Base! We're under sudden enemy attack!"
"Sudden enemy attack?! Who the Hell's attacking you?!"
"No idea, but they're destroying the entire facility!"
The enemy suit walked across the airfield amid heavy machine gun fire, and in the cockpit, a boy of fourteen followed the scene on the monitor with calm, emerald green eyes. His outstanding characteristics, other than those eyes, were his almost elfin features and long auburn bangs, resembling a full-frontal cowlick, concealing a third of his narrow, oval face.
The Leos confronting him had no time to aim their guns. A hail of beam Gatling shells peppered their titanium hides and they exploded in spectacular fashion. In the shadow of the spaceport in disarray, the two Aries watching realized that even though they hadn't gotten bystanders involved, they had to ascend and take off.
"Now that you've seen me, I have no choice!" he snarled, thumbing the button on one of the control sticks. "I thought my mission to destroy the spaceport would be enough, but now I have to demolish everything!"
In almost no time at all, the vermilion and gold shoulder flaps opened and homing missiles launched. The Aries had no time to engage in evasive maneuvers before being shot down in rapid succession. Within minutes, the spaceport was destroyed without any resistance worth mentioning.
"This is battle record 001. Mission to destroy Dover Spaceport completed. Five enemy Leos and two Aries destroyed. Damages to Heavyarms suit, minimal. Ammunition used, seventy-four percent. Self-evaluation: seventy-five points out of one hundred. Pilot's name... let's just say Trowa... for the record."
As the smoke cleared, the youth exited his suit and looked around. He felt neither grief nor joy over the devastation he'd wrought; in fact, he felt nothing at all. He'd fought in wars ever since he could remember, quashing every emotion he'd ever felt, his own and those of others, killing his heart and soul in the process.
Once again, the boy who called himself Trowa wondered if he was a monster and shivered, attributing it to the wind drying the sweat which soaked his dark blue polo neck and faded jeans. [9] With a sigh, he returned to the pilot's seat and reignited the Verniers, preparing to go to ground until it was safe to travel on.
"The enemy wasn't prepared for our attack, were they, Heavyarms?" he asked the mobile suit in a calm voice as they left the scene.
Quatre - Sahara Desert
A squadron of fifteen Leos progressed through the desert spreading across the Arabian Peninsula, heading to investigate the crash site of one of the capsules sighted on the surveillance radar. They couldn't see anything in their surroundings but the endless desert sands, rolling like the waves of the ocean. Minutes later, they found the empty capsule half-buried in the golden sand, its parachute fluttering in the wind behind it.
"You're sure this was where the enemy transport fell?" the troop commander asked over their comm link.
"Yes, sir," his subordinate replied, nervous.
"I don't see anything here."
Three hundred meters from the crash site, the scene changed completely as the platoon found themselves surrounded. Some forty mobile suits had been lying in wait, and they rose from the sands and assumed formation around the Leos, their weapons at the ready.
These mobile suits were built for desert combat, and painted to blend in to the sands. While the basic design was the same, each suit was different. These customized suits were as individual as the pilots within, and each one marked with a number from one to forty on its shoulder. Details such as extra armor at the shoulders, one arm longer than the other and equipped with a claw-like "hand," or the head of another wearing a crest like a gladiator's helmet and carrying a heat tomahawk.
As the suits all unburied themselves, a basso profundo voice bellowed "ATTACK!" over their comm system. The Leo troop turned their beam rifles towards the machine marked with the number "01," assuming it was the rebel leader's mobile suit.
"What going on? What's happening?" the leader demanded as the rest of the Leos lay decimated around them.
"It's the enemy! They're attacking!"
"Then don't just stand there gawking, you fool! Open fire!"
The two remaining Leos made a run for it over the nearest sand dune, hoping to escape the destruction. Instead, they ran onto an ambush.
"We're surrounded! It was a trap!"
"Commander! LOOK!"
"What the Hell?!" the commander exclaimed upon seeing a white, gray and gold mobile suit standing amidst more of the customized desert units.
Though it looked like the mobile suit Zechs sank in the Pacific, this suit's coloring and characteristics made it an elegant apparition. This suit had larger, wider feet designed for desert terrain, a horse mane shaped decoration on its head, and the aristocratic design of its shoulders.
"Drop your weapons and surrender, and I'll spare your lives. You have no chance of surviving a battle against me," a cool, yet youthful and authoritative voice commanded through the strange suit's loud speaker.
The two remaining Leos turned towards the unknown mobile suit and launched a counterattack. The white, gold and gray mobile suit stopped its comrades from retaliating, ignited the Vernier engines on its back and flew straight to the pair of Leos, the hail of bullets having no effect on it.
The suit reached behind its back and withdrew two curved, glowing sword-like weapons, raised them over its head, and slashed downwards with them. Emitting intense heat, the two blades sliced through the Leos like a warm knife through butter as they arced downward, destroying the two remaining Leos.
After the fight ended, the white, gray and gold mobile suit stood in the center of the smoldering debris, its pilot still inside. Like the other suit's pilots, he was a young boy of fourteen, his eyes covered by a pair of old fashioned aviator goggles. Soft waves of pale sunlight blond hair tumbled into a fair-skinned face which floated in perfect symmetry between masculine and feminine. The boy pushed the goggles back on to his high forehead, exposing a pair of large, expressive turquoise blue eyes that looked at his main monitor.
"This is Quatre reporting. The search team was destroyed," the pilot young said into his comm link with a sad sigh. Moments later, the boy calling himself Quatre added in a sarcastic tone "I told you to surrender... why didn't you listen to me?"
Wu Fei - South China Sea
In the South China Sea, near the mouth of the Yangtse River, a capsule originating from the L5 colony cluster fell into the ocean and sank beneath the waves, sea water seeping inside. Just as the sunken capsule filled up, it exploded. Brushing away any remaining fragments, a mobile suit appeared from the interior. This one was much the same as the one Zechs sank at JAP Point, only its most important characteristic was a claw shaped like a dragon's head extending from its right arm, and the design of the suit was reminiscent of a Chinese warrior's armor.
His target was the Ninth Pacific Fleet of the Alliance Navy, which headed for Shanghai harbor.
The mobile suit progressed through the water towards the carrier at the center of the fleet. Clinging to the bottom, it punched a hole in the ship's hull with the claw of its right arm, then climbed up. When it reached the waterline, it ignited its Vernier boosters and flew up onto the deck. At the suit landed, it lifted its right arm and a hellish fire, like the dragons of legend, burned the fighter planes and mobile suits on deck. Unable to react to this sudden attack, all they could do was return fire.
In the suit's cockpit, an impatient Asian boy waded through the enemy's ranks. His hair, tied in a short, tight ponytail, was glossy black, and his almond shaped agate eyes were sharp. Though he wore a blue tank top, his snowy white trousers were of a style once worn in China.
"You think a weak attack like that will have any effect on my Nataku?! You're nuts!"
Pulling the steering lever, he pressed a button with his thumb, extending the right arm to more than twice its normal length, its claw-like hand penetrating the steel of the bridge. Spouting flames, it destroyed everything completely. After retracting the arm, he grabbed a staff mounted on the suit's back. Swinging it once, a ray in the form of a glaive blade cleared the decks of its weapons and cuts the Leos that were about to attack in two.
"My name's Zhang Wu Fei. I'm not running away or hiding anywhere. This fight will be over in no time at all."
Unable to conceal his impatience any longer, the boy chopped the deck in two with the glaive, and then stepped on a pedal, the mobile suit leaping towards its next prey. When the battle was over, the Gundam Shenlong stood amid the floating, fiery wreckage of several Alliance military aircraft carriers, which the suit destroyed.
"Thanks a lot, Uncle. This was a stupid mission," Wu Fei grumbled in frustration. [10]
Zechs
Back near the JAP Point, Zechs, Otto, and Bruno were en route to the landing zone where the Gundam crashed into the sea, and Zechs was again reviewing paperwork.
"Haven't the search units gotten here yet?" Bruno asked, his anger flaring. Finding humor in his co-pilot's aggravation, Otto suppressed a chuckle.
"They said they won't be here for another two hours," he replied.
"What's taking them so long? Do they think they're taking a lunch break?"
"Don't get so flustered, Bruno," Zechs interjected in a calm voice. "That new suit's not going anywhere. And remember, the water's quite deep here. It'll take a while for the Alliance Navy to complete their search."
"But..."
"Here, why don't I show you something interesting."
Zechs moved between Otto and Bruno and displayed photos of Shenlong's attack.
"Is this...?"
"An OZ surveillance drone took these photos an hour ago. What do you think? Looks an awful lot like the one we fought earlier today, doesn't it?"
"You mean there were two of these things?!"
"That's not all. I've just received this report: two major OZ facilities, a mobile suit factory near Detroit and the Dover Base, as well as an Alliance recovery unit looking for an unregistered shuttle, were all attacked by an unknown enemy and completely wiped out."
"So, there are four of them?"
"Five in total, if you count the one we sank."
"There were five Gundams?"
"We should consider ourselves lucky. Seems we're among the fortunate few who've encountered a Gundam and lived to tell the tale."
Hiiro and Relena, April 7th, AC 195
Early the next morning, a pink limousine pulled up to the front of St. Gabriel's Institute, a Catholic school teaching children from kindergarten through high school. The window lowered, revealing an embarrassed Relena, who once again wondered why, of all the colors they could have chosen for her limo, her parents chose pink, and not just any pink, but her least favorite shade of all, bubble gum pink. [11]
Entering the main building, Relena walked towards the outdoor dining area, stopping conversations as she went. She hated it. She hated being the subject of idle gossip. She wasn't as naïve as her peers thought her to be; she knew almost as much about the situation between Earth and the Space Colonies as her father, but she didn't know everything. What was this "Operation Meteor" her father refused to talk to her about? Was the boy from the beach last night a part of it? She had so many questions, but no answers were forthcoming.
Meanwhile, on the rooftop terrace of the cafeteria, several small tables were set out, and students in school uniforms sat or stood casually in small cliques, either drinking coffee or tea, or for the boarders, eating their breakfasts. The sound of many conversations buzzed in the background, and the topics of those conversations were when the colonies would start a war with Earth, Relena, and her weekend trip to the L1 cluster.
"I'm surprised Relena's not here yet. It's the first day of the new quarter," a blonde-haired girl named Violet Newsome said.
"Can't be helped," a brown-haired girl, Sophie Whitmore, replied, shrugging her shoulders. "She only got home from outer space last night."
"I sure do envy her!" a third girl named Chiong Yanmei said, her hands clasped worshipfully against her chest. "I'd love to go to outer space, even just once!"
"That's what being the richest girl in school is like," a freckle-faced, red-haired girl quipped with a rude, unladylike snort. "A daddy with money to burn is all it takes."
And there you had it. Money, and whose family had more of it, was all many of St. Gabriel's student body thought of or cared about. To them, money equaled popularity, and that was the reason Relena was the school's most popular girl.
"Oh, yeah, that reminds me; isn't Relena's birthday tomorrow?"
"That's right! I wonder who she's gonna invite to her party this year?"
"Shh! Here she comes...!" the freckle-faced girl exclaimed, shushing them.
As their favorite subject for gossip came out on the patio, all conversation ceased, devolving into obsequious greetings she replied to with a polite "Good morning" and a gracious half bow. She sighed as the bell for first period rang. The other kids thought all she did on her trips with her father was shop; fact was, she knew almost as much about the colonies and their citizens as her father did. The only ones who wanted a war were the ones who would profit from them: The Alliance, OZ, and OZ's parent foundation, Romefeller.
Inside one of St. Gabriel's large, auditorium-styled classrooms, nearly thirty students took their seats and waited for class to start. Moments later, the door to the auditorium opened, and the teacher, Sister Mary Agnes, entered the room, followed by a familiar-looking boy.
"That boy...! It's him!" Relena whispered to herself as the sister stood at a podium, the boy standing next to her.
"Quiet down, please," the nun said, her tone sharp. "I'd like to introduce you to our newest student."
"I'm Hiiro Yui," the boy said, his voice cool. "It's nice to meet you all."
That's the boy from the beach last night, I'm sure of it, Relena thought, then realized she was gaping.
"Hiiro, why don't you take a seat next to Relena? If you have any questions, feel free to ask her, and she'll be happy to help you. Now, let's start class, shall we?"
The boy called Hiiro walked up the steps towards the back of the class and took the seat to Relena's right. Unable to resist, she found herself checking out the new boy's butt, and she liked what she saw. All in all, Hiiro was blessed with a well-formed ass: set high, a little rounded, yet firm and muscular. The rest of him wasn't bad, either.
"Hello, Hiiro. It's nice to meet you," Relena said politely as he sat down. She was open, friendly, and curious, but Hiiro closed his eyes and tried his best to ignore her. A look of dertemination crossed her face, and after a moment, she thought she had the perfect way to get to talk to him about their meeting on the beach the night before.
At lunch time, Hiiro stood alone at the far end of one of the school's many terraces, his sharp Prussian blue eyes taking in everything around and below him as if he were looking for escape routes. Moments later, Relena and the rest of her classmates stood together at the other end of the terrace.
"Um... excuse me... Relena...?" the blonde girl directly behind, Violet, asked her, wondering why Relena would invite the new guy, a guy she didn't even know, to her birthday party.
Squaring her shoulders, Relena fearlessly approached Hiiro, a pale blue envelope in her hands, as the rest of girls looked on from the other end of the terrace. She hadn't wanted an audience for this. She wanted to ask him face to face, alone, but like baby ducks, they seemed to follow her wherever she went, leaving her with no privacy. They'd gotten like this once before when she tried to get another boy, a charity student named Owen Lancaster, alone long enough to apologize to him for bumping into him on his first day at school.
That's it! she thought, realizing who he reminded her of. He looks just like Owen did, only older!
"Hiiro?" she asked nervously, tucking the blue and white envelope into his hands. "This is for you. It's an invitation to my birthday party tomorrow night. I… I hope you'll be able to come by and have some fun."
Their classmates applauded the gesture and approached the pair as Relena gave Hiiro a genuine smile. After a moment, Hiiro tore the invitation in two without opening it, causing Relena to gasp in shock. The halves of the card fluttered to the ground, and a gust of wind blew them away. Clenching her fists, Relena turned away from Hiiro while the other girls made themselves scarce.
"But... but why?" the angry girl asked, her fists shaking at her sides even as her bright blue eyes swam with tears. Oh, how she wanted to give in to the urge to punch him on that smug, perfectly formed chin and knock him flat on his perfectly formed ass!
As he walked past her, Hiiro reached out, brushing the tear away from Relena's eye with his thumb. Misinterpreting the gesture, she began to smile until he whispered "I'm gonna kill you" in her ear, causing her eyes to widen in shock as Hiiro walked away from her.
"Who is this boy? What kind of person is he?" Relena asked as the wind picked up.
To be continued...
Author's Notes: When I started this, I thought it was going to be a cakewalk, but I've learned a couple things. First is, if it looks easy, it won't be. Second is, what looks good on the screen doesn't always translate well to the written page, hence my breaking down to the individual perspectives of each of the characters.
I'm using bits of the novel and the manga versions as inspiration for my narrative and how I portray certain characters, and the dub scripts as the basis for the dialog, but writing my own narrative and dialog.
The Relena in this is an incorporation of the manga and anime versions. The manga version's a ballsy girl brave enough (and crazy enough) to stand in front of an entire squad of Aries suits and calmly order them to get the Hell out of her country.
Finally, these bad boys are going to be long, somewhere between 8,500 and 13,000 words each, including author's notes and annotations. That's the way I normally write. Sorry.
Oh, and speaking of annotations...
Annotations:
[1] 36,210 kilometers equals 22,500 miles, and is the height many satellites orbit at. And my mother said I'd never learn anything from reading old Justice League of America comic books.
[2] A tenor tessitura is a masculine vocal tone directly between a tenor and a baritone. I thought it described Otto's voice perfectly.
[3] Star Wars reference.
[4] Japan's version of 9-1-1.
[5] No, Proto Zero wasn't made up just for Glory of Losers. Its name first appeared in the Gundam Wing novelization.
[6] And speaking of the novelization, that's where General Septem's first name comes from. His full name is Clarence Septem, Junior.
[7] Duo's nickname for Professor G comes from Episode Zero, and Howard's first name from the novelization.
[8] Head canon. I thought Duo wouldn't want the lives of innocent civilian workers on his conscience.
[9] British slang for a turtleneck.
[10] According to the Gundam Wing Encyclopedia (published in the US as the GW Technical Manual), Master O is a relative of Wu Fei's, and a master of the martial arts in his own right. I just made him Fei's paternal uncle.
[11] Rewatching Episode One, it occurred to me that Relena looked embarrassed by the color of her limo. Head canon says it's because her parents chose it, not her.
Next Chapter: The Alliance Navy sends out troops to find the sunken Gundam, but Zechs and his men find it first, using OZ's new Cancer and Pisces mobile suits. Hiiro must locate and destroy Wing Gundam before anyone can get their hands on it, but in the dark ocean depths, the shadow of another Gundam appears.
Next, on Gundam Wing Remastered, Episode 2: The Gundam Called Deathscythe.