Belated Disclaimer: (AKA; Legal shit) I do not own Gundam Wing. Gundam Wing, it's merchandise, and the likeness of its characters are the sole licensed property of the Shotsu corporation, Sunrise, and Bandai Japan. All settings and characters from this series, as well as names, titles, and mecha designs are the property of the above mentioned parties. This is a work of non-profit fan-fiction. No funds will be derived from the writing or publishing of this piece.

My Beta reader has also informed me that I should not the following. Any similarities to Robotech, ™ StarCraft, ™ or any other licensed animes, games, movies, or literary works, is purely coincidental. All persons in this story are fictional and licenses to real people is purely coincidental.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Senator Jackson Brays of the L3 Colony Cluster stepped out of the helicopter and savored the salty smell of the sea. The deck of riveted steel swayed slightly with the rhythm of the waves and there was a continuous groaning sound as the ancient construction settled further on it's iron pylons.

The oil rig had been abandoned by the co-op of oil producers that owned it over a hundred years before and been left to rust in the middle of the Pacific rim. It was dangerous to approach the looming edifice of rusting iron from the sea and the air routes were rarely traveled by anything but high-speed, intercontinental transports trying to save some time and fuel by looping over the arctic circle. Such a secluded location was ideal for the Senator's plans.

An ice laden wind swept across the deck and salty frost had accumulated on the deck piping. The rusted main derrick tilted crazily and wind howled through the holes on the tower as if some malevolent god was trapped inside and dying. Jackson pulled his fleece parka close about himself and drew closed the hood.

A hellish wind picked up as the helicopter lifted skyward. The wind dissipated as the down draft from the rotors cleared the deck and a moment later, the helicopter was thwok, thwok, thwoking its way east.

Brays was alone on the deck. Protocol demanded that there be no communication between incoming aircraft and the rig. Protocol also demanded that no one be sent to meet visitors, it would be too easy to have their security and plans compromised. For all intents and purposes, the oil rig still seemed abandoned.

The rig lurched a bit with a particularly violent and prolonged groan. A rusted chain swung free somewhere and began to clang against a pipe in the wind. The hollow ringing sound was unsettling enough that Brays considered trying to find it and tie it back down. He abandoned that thought a moment later and made his way carefully across the rocking deck.

He came to a hatch that was rusted shut. The rig was silent except for the howling of the wind, groaning of the ancient supports, and that damn chain.

clang, clang, clang

Brays pulled a magnetic clamp from inside his jacket and affixed it to the ancient hatch. The clamp's monitor glowed green to show it had a lock. Then a small hydraulic armature stretched out and attached itself to the hatch's wheel lock. After a moment, the hydraulics began to compress and with an earth-rending squeal, the wheel began to turn. Chunks of brown rust cascaded from the wheel and the locking bolts slowly returned to their sheaths inside the frame of the door. The hatch swung open slowly on ancient hinges. Senator Brays found himself staring into an inkwell of freezing blackness.

He took a moment to examine the hatch itself. The door itself was shiny new stainless steel on the inside. The rust had been carefully applied to the outside of the hatch to disguise the change. Brays resisted the urge to take flashlight out of his pocket as he knew that would result in his immediate death. He instead took a step into the frigid blackness and closed the hatch carefully behind him. The wind took hold of the hatch before he could quite close it and it slammed shut with an echoing crash.

Brays again resisted the urge to grab a flashlight despite a growing sense of claustrophobia. Instead, he steadied his breathing and counted off the seconds in his head.

1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . 7 . . . 8 . . . 9 . . . 10

At the ten second mark, a horribly bright light snapped on and Brays found himself staring down a rifle barrel. His attention shifted from the business end of the weapon to the face behind it. The man was bundled up in black and his entire face was hidden in a night vision mask. Brays expanded his attention yet further and noted that the man had four companions, all similarly attired.

Brays and the sentry regarded each other for another moment, then the sentry lowered his gun and pulled off his mask. It came free in a spray of unruly brown hair that covered a bright, youthful face. Brays was surprised at the seemingly young age of the sentry but said nothing of it.

Smiling, the youth snapped a precise salute, "Welcome aboard sir. Please follow me to the factory level."

Brays threw a return salute and nodded. "Thank you."

The youth led him down a brightly lit, but still rusted corridor. They reached a lift and the doors ground open with a moan. The inside of the lift appeared safe and comfortable but Brays was still dubious. The youthful sentry shook his head. "Don't worry sir, the shaft's reinforced the whole way down."

"Ah." Brays flashed a frosty smile and stepped in. When the doors closed, it immediately became warmer inside the chamber. The lift began to descend with a quiet hum. The sentry stood at ramrod attention and Brays hid a smile at the young man's fervor.

Brays leaned back against the wall of the capsule. "Tell me son," he began amicably, "what's your name?"

"Private Cadin Rowanoak, Sir!"

Brays snorted in derision. "Relax son, where're you from?"

The sentry seemed a bit uncomfortable with sudenly being on familiar terms with the senator. "L3-X2733, Sir."

"L3, huh? Good to know your from close to home. I grew up on X1744 you know. Always loved that cluster."

The sentry nodded. "X1744. Did you know anyone from the Barton foundation? I thought they had their base there."

Brays smirked. "You might say I was acquainted with a few members of the foundation, yes."

A tone sounded and Brays made a good natured nod in Cadin's direction. "Better snap it up son, don't want to be charged with laxness in the presence of a superior officer now do you?"

"No sir!" Cadin snapped to attention just as the doors of the lift hissed open.

And revealed a vast factory floor and hanger combination facility. The lift itself opened onto a cat-walk that spanned the facility and connected with a command room on the other side. Brays set off down the metal bridge at a fast pace, his boots clanging importantly against the meshed steel. Cadin matched pace in order to keep up.

Brays surveyed the room as he went, without turning back, he called, "We're under water now, correct?"

"Yes sir."

Brays nodded. "Tell me, Private, are you just a sentry?"

Cadin smiled at the senator's back. "No sir, I'm a pilot as well."

"Just a pilot?"

"No sir, one of the pilots."

"Excellent." Brays drew short at the middle of the cat walk and turned to face the production floor. Five Gundams stood at attention in massive docking brackets. They were all identical except for variations of paint scheme.

They looked as though a madman had gotten hold of the schematics for Gundam Deathscythe and regurgitated them in his own twisted image. Bulbous armor covered the frames of the mecha and lethal looking spikes jutted from joint caps and the shoulders. A pair of demon wings were folded over the chests and the head seemed oddly canted forward, lending the entire construct an appearance of a feral beast ready to strike. Each Gundam clasped a wickedly warped beam-scythe in their hands that had the appearance of a curved threshing sickle.

Brays smiled. "Which one's yours?"

Cadin grinned and pointed at the center Gundam. It was jet black and its paint shimmered iridescently. Custom green flame had been detailed along the eyes and the scythe handle had been painted to look like knotted wood.

Brays felt his smile widen into a dangerous grin. "Wonderful."

* * *

Sally and Lady Une burst into the command post and saw the face of a very drawn looking man grimly towering over them from the main communications screen. Lady Une straightened and smoothed her dress out of habit. "The aliens have entered the perimeter, Admiral Grapphin?"

The grim man nodded. "We are awaiting orders Ma'am."

Lady Une nodded. "They get one chance. Send out a courier broadcasting a peace message. See what they do. If they respond with hostility, you are authorized to fire."

The grim man nodded again and the screen winked off. Lady Une turned to Sally. "What is the status of weapons mass production?"

"The factories have been operational since an hour after the first impact."

Lady Une's eyes widened a bit, "Does Releena know?"

Sally shook her head. "Let's say we had an inkling that code Beta would be initiated and acted on that assumption."

"I see, and are our peace keeping forces ready to respond should the invasion escalate?"

Sally nodded. "We have troops in all major population centers. We can institute Martial Law at a moment's notice."

Lady Une gave a small smile. "Excellent. And if Releena or the Senators should cause trouble?"

Sally looked troubled for a moment. "We are prepared to detain them as a protective measure."

Lady Une nodded grimly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

* * *

The ships were visible from the observation bubble. Not distinctly, not as anything more than points of light, but visible none the less. Gloval and his crew suddenly found themselves surrounded by top level officers and technicians hauling portable monitors. Admiral Grapphin of the Griffin class destroyer George Washington, the flagship of the one week old Preventer Earthsphere perimeter fleet, walked in followed by an entourage of high ranking officers. "He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Senior Commander, we are requisitioning this room for fleet command, please remove your crew."

Gloval shook his head. "No, this is my station, if anything's going to happen to it, I want a say."

Grapphin looked as though he was about to order Gloval's execution on the spot but reconsidered. "Very well, but your crew must remove themselves."

Gloval nodded. His crew turned silently and departed.

Grapphin surveyed the officers arrayed before him. "As you know ladies and gentlemen, this is an unprecedented situation. We have no experience with large scale combat in space and many of our capital ship systems have yet to be battle tested. Our leaders at Preventers headquarters have ordered that we send a courier broadcasting a peace message to see if they respond. If they respond with hostility, we have been ordered to respond at our strategic discretion. I don't need to tell you that 'strategic discretion' is as close as we'll get to a free bill in the military. We've been handed a blank check, to do with as we please.

"But we all ready know what we'll do if the aliens respond with hostility. We're going to throw our fleet down their throat and hope they choke."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, aboard the light courier ship Avita, Second Lieutenant Sect felt like he was going to piss his pants, or maybe throw up. Yes, throw up seemed likely. Sect was the first human to get a really good look at one of the alien ships. What he saw was terrifying.

Though the comm was turned off he knew it was transmitting a message of peace and understanding. He didn't think he could stand listening to the endless stream of hopeful platitudes for any extended period of time. Looking out at the ships, he was pretty sure he all ready knew the answer.

The ship nearest to him seemed to be a light frigate of some sort. It appeared to be made of glowing gold and ivory, possessing a terrible and graceful beauty. A pair of forward swept wings gave it the appearance of a manta ray swimming backwards. The central keel bulged outwards and a strange construction protruded from the prow. He could not identify any weapons or hangers but something about the bulge at the front of the ship worried him.

Suddenly a voice entered his head. It was a great and terrible voice. It reminded Sect of a choir he had heard in an ancient cathedral as a child. It seemed to echo grandly in his head and for a moment, he was so stricken that he could not decipher the words that flowed into him. He backed up a bit and listened to what was said.

"Oh Infidel! Do not come nearer to us or you will disgrace us! Instead, hold thy head low and accept thy cleansing!"

"What the-" Second Lieutenant Sect was no more.

* * *

On board the station, no one had heard that glorious voice, for it had only been sent into the unfortunate Lieutenant's head. They merely watched from the observation bubble as suddenly, in one terrible instant, the visible spectrum inverted itself. Space outside was pure white and flecked by specks of blackness. Officers threw up their hands to cover their eyes and whimpered in terror.

Then they awful light was gone. As was all trace of the courier ship. Admiral Grapphin apprehensively opened a channel to the courier's frequency. "Sect, Sect, do you read? Sect, report if you are able."

Only static.

Grapphin's habitually grim face settled into a grimace. "I'd say that they've responded with hostility."

* * *

Noin entered Lady Une's office quietly. The Commander's chair faced away from the door but Midi had heard her enter. Without turning she said, "I suppose we've elicited a response from the aliens?"

"Yes Ma'am, we have."

"And the response was?"

"The response was hostile."

Midi finally turned to face Noin. "What colony cluster is facing the aliens approach vector?"

"L2"

Midi sighed and for the first time, Noin thought how truly old she looked. "Very well. Inform our cells in the L2 cluster that they are to institute protective peace-keeping measures immediately."

Noin nodded. "And Releena?"

"Send a contingent to take her and her staff into custody. Make sure that contingent is armed. Releena will carry through with the Code Beta protocol."

Noin looked as though she wanted to say something but refrained. Instead she snapped a salute, spun on her heel and exited the room.

And so, after twenty years of uneasy peace, Releena's worst fear was coming true.

Martial Law.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Please Review! Pleeeeeeease!

Next Chapter: Holy War