Where in the world did you get the idea that God condemns your soul based on the understanding of a piece of paper? Does he smite his creations on a mere technicality? Daikun's vision is freedom from such mindless superstition. Let anyone who wants to know the truth understand that your deity, your mythology, all the world's religions combined are the way of the ancients to understand what the Contolist knows in his own heart: that heaven and hell are terms of evolution, that salvation is progress and damnation is oblivion... True, every newtype will taste of death, but in our comrades and our descendents, all newtypes find eternal life.
- Alicia Robyn Cunningham



Chapter 14: Obedience

- March 28, UC0084 –
- 2230 hours (CST) -
 Captain Bekner frowned at the damage reports scrolling across his screens. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up these efforts, or for that matter how long he could continue to hide from the Titans in the Shoal Zone before they finally put the death blow into them. More than half the ship had been sealed off from damages, and with the MS deck out of action the two surviving GMs had to be repaired outside the ship. The Montblanc itself was nestled up against the side of an asteroid, masking against the surface with its running lights and outer hatches sealed tightly, both mobile suits hiding behind the bulk as the repair crews replaced damaged armor panels.

Then good news, a report came in over the radio from fire control at last, "Bridge from Fire: starboard main gun and forward secondaries backin action."

Henken almost leapt for joy. "Great news, fire control! Any word on my missile bays?"

"Nothing good, sir. One of the magazines cooked off at that last run. Don't think we could repair the launchers without a few days in dry-dock."

Henken laughed at the irony of that. "We were just IN a dry-dock."

Then came a new signal, this time from one of the Ball pilots hiding as lookout on the other side of the asteroid, "Lefty to Montblanc, we've got incoming! Two Hizacks, search formation, closing fast!"

The ship was already at battle stations, there was no need to remind them. "Minovsky density?"

Jefferson checked his computer. "Still at maximum."

"If their mobile suits are here, the cruisers must be nearby..." He thought through possible scenarios, all his experience and everything he knew about Bosque Ohm and his tactics. The Hizacks would try and locate his position, then 'accidentally' give away the position of one of the cruisers. The other was undoubtedly waiting nearby, ready to pounce on the Montblanc when it came out to attack. As soon as he opened fire on one, the other would already be on his back... "Are the mobile suits ready for action?"

Jefferson checked the MS commander and then nodded back, "Unit Two and Three are standing by."

"Send them out. Have them ambush those Hizacks as soon as they get close to the asteroid..." and then another thought occurred to him, "Scratch that... GM unit, there's a section of colony wreckage at 22 kilometers moonward. Try to lead them away from it."

Everyone on the bridge turned and looked at him nervously. Even his gunnery officer had to comment, "Captain, that'll give away our position pretty easily."

"I know that. Even a rank amateur wouldn't setup an ambush so close to his hiding place. Hopefully, Bosque thinks I'm an amateur." Captain Bekner watched the two GMs rise slowly out of their concealment from behind the hull, carefully move around to the other side of the asteroid and crouch down in the shadows waiting to ambush their targets.

The cruiser Brunei was only a few dozen kilometers distant, moving forward, waiting for the Hizack squad to lead the Montblanc's mobile suits back towards them. Captain Bosque knew that his ship would appear to be isolated and vulnerable in space where it was, and that Captain Bekner wouldn't miss a chance to take out one of his attackers and possibly slip away in the confusion. He had the two Hizacks on his monitors, approaching something of a clearing between a fairly large asteroid and a gutted colony cylinder with both of its bay-blocks missing. Perfect place to hide a ship, he mused, looking at his monitors, "Hizack unit, check out that colony wreckage at 24 kilometers moonward. If the Montblanc is in there, lead her back to us."

The two Hizacks changed direction towards the wrecked colony, all at once putting themselves directly in the sights of the two GMs crouched in the shadows of the asteroid. The pilot in Unit Two grinned, then locked his beam gun onto it and fired one blast. It hit one of the mobile suits in the vernier pack and sent it into a spin, and his next shot struck it dead on and destroyed it completely. At that the two GMs leapt from concealment, both firing with beam guns in an attempt to drive the Hizack away from the cylinder...

Bosque's mouth started to water. "You're mine, Bek... bring us in closer, helm! Open fire with all main guns and see if you can unmask him!" That Bekner hasn't changed since the Academy. The man never knows when to retreat.

The Brunei's main guns each fired a double blast into the colony wall, blowing away a massive section of the debris and sending fragments of metal scattering in every direction. It took Henken all of three seconds to trace the beams and figure out where the shooting was coming from, another three to figure out where the other cruiser was hiding. He'll be close by... but he'll be in a position where he can catch me off guard...

The second Hizack took a direct hit as it came close to the Brunei, and as soon as it was down the cruiser opened fire with all of its guns in an effort to keep the two mobile suits at bay. Bosque watched his guns pour fire into the colony wreck in powerful barrages, but as he cleared away more of the obstruction he started to grow impatient. "Dammit... even if he's not in that wreckage he should have tried to attack me by now... what is Benker doing out there?" As if an answer to his question, he happened to turn his head just in time to see all hell break loose in the distance just ahead and to port of the Brunei, right in the direction of where the Zaire was waiting to ambush the Montblanc. In just the time it took for the Montblanc's first shots to hit their target, Bosque realized he had just been had.

The main guns scored direct hits near the bow and amidships of the Zaire, and a blast from the secondary batteries hit the main bridge and blew open an entire section of the bulkhead there. In just the time it took for one attack, he had reduced the cruiser to a floating wreck, spitting fire from its insides and twisting painfully in space. "Who's in fire control now? Chief Sakura right?"

Lieutenant Jefferson turned and grinned. "The one and only."

"For shooting like that he gets a promotion and the rest of the beer ration..." Captain Bekner waited for the follow up salvo to finish off the Zaire's weapon systems, then breathed a quick sigh of relief. "Alright, the Brunei will be on us any minute! Fill the sky with decoys and lets get the hell out of here!"

The ship's helmsman didn't have to be told twice; with a touch of his consol and a surge of acceleration, the Montblanc's engines were carrying them through the shoal zone, away from the carnage of the now-wrecked Zaire, away from Bosque and the Titans, back into the abyss from whence they came.


- April 3, UC0084 –
- 0810 hours (CST) -
 Lower Granada was a place of familiar sights and sounds for Lieutenant Naomi Wilson, perhaps the only place in the universe besides the Tarawa she could consider calling "home." She'd expected it would be exactly the way she had left it four years ago to join the military, but as she was seeing now the city had indeed changed quite a bit in her absence. And not for the better; there were four times as many people in the Basement as there had been before the war, and as was the trend in Lower Granada, not a single one of the new arrivals had anything that could be called a permanent residence. The saving grace of the city was that being underground, there was never any concern about foul weather... the homeless could live comfortably anywhere they could lay their heads. Some didn't even bother staying out of sight anymore.

Even the Burial Grounds had become a sanctuary for some of the lost souls of Lower Granada, but aside from a few tents and blankets strewn about the perpetually-empty parking lot the grounds appeared untouched by any human presence. On an average day a dozen or so people would be loitering nearby, wandering down memory lane with the ghost of comrades buried somewhere inside, but on the day of Alice's funeral they respectfully kept their distance until the crew had put the casket in the ground and the burial detail was dispersed. What little of her could be scrapped off the interior of the mobile suit had been collected over the past week and placed in a wooden box inside the casket, along with letters from the entire crew, and a copy of Alice's favorite book.

All of those in attendance felt the weight of the world pressing down on them... all, it seemed, except Brian himself. Naomi could only guess that the reality of his sister's demise hadn't quite sunken in yet, and as the attendees dispersed she joined him before her tombstone and patted him on the shoulder. "Look," she began slowly, "I don't know if you can ever forgive me but..."

"We've been over this already, Lieutenant. I'm not blaming you, it wasn't your fault."

"But what if..." Naomi sagged and stared at her feet. "If I'd just been a better pilot..."

"My sister would still be alive."

"Exactly. I let them separate us there's no excu—"

"Who's Anna Larson?" Brian cut her off abruptly, glancing over her shoulder at a tombstone across the driveway lined with hedges.

Naomi glanced back briefly and shrugged. "I don't know really..."

"Yes you do. You were looking at it when you came in. Who was she?"

She glanced back at the stone again, the grave that contained a likewise body-less casket and twice as many memories. "Just someone else I couldn't protect."

Brian nodded, understanding on only the most general terms. "You grew up around here didn't you?"

Naomi nodded slowly. "Mission District way over in on East Block."

"Hmmm..." Brian thought for a moment, then looked at her more carefully. "Me and Alice grew up in South Block. She spent the first eight years of her life in this little church-sponsored shelter before we managed to catch a shuttle to Riah."

"How'd you afford the ticket?"

Brian grinned. "Who said anything about a ticket?"

Naomi chuckled and grinned back. "Couldn't take anymore, huh? This place is quite the shithole..."

"The Federation likes it that way. If they don't wanna look at you anymore, they drop your ass in the Basement. All the Cunninghams were buried here too."

She glanced up at him with a curious glance, but in the same movement her eyes caught something far more familiar and far less comforting walking towards them from across the grounds. She didn't know why exactly, but seeing Admiral Dyson again under the lighting of Lower Granada sent a powerful chill down her spine. "Aren't you a bit late, Admiral?"

Dyson frowned and stared at the tombstone as he walked up to them, standing across from the still-open grave facing either of them. He sighed distantly, then shook his head muttering, "Poor thing... what a terrible tragedy..."

"A tragedy YOU caused." Naomi snapped automatically.

Dyson looked up and narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't be so critical, Baby Doll. I did everything I could to save that girl... yet I can't help asking what she was doing piloting that mobile suit in the first place? You're the commanding officer of the unit, surely you knew what was going on."

She knew when she was being baited, and she also knew that Dyson was on the exact same page as she was, despite his stance of ignorance. "By the time I knew what was happening, she was already dead." Dyson looked at her with an expression of annoyed skepticism, but as he was about to say something else Naomi added, "The units that ambushed us... they were new models, sir."

Dyson nodded. "Intelligence believes they were upgraded recently. Analysis of the wreckage suggests a group called AEUG..."

"No sir," Naomi said slowly, "They were Hizacks with Titan markings. Both of them."

Dyson sighed and shook his head. "I think you are mistaken, Lieutenant Wilson..."

"Like hell. You know what I'm talking about, Admiral. That ambush was a perfect setup. They knew our deployment, they knew our equipment, they even knew the weakness of the Gundam's magnetic coating. I could understand them guessing at the rest, but the Gundam's combat system... there's no way they could know that without inside information."

Dyson walked around the edge of the grave, brushed past a passive Lieutenant Anderson and grabbed Naomi by the elbow, pulling her off to the side to speak with her in relative private, "You're over-analyzing this situation, Lieutenant, and it's not helping you one bit." He hissed angrily into her ear, "We both know what this is about, and don't flatter yourself thinking you can outsmart me. I was in the business when you were still teething."

Naomi turned slowly, her hands clenching into fists. "Cause and effect, Dyson. You screw around with people long enough, eventually they draw the line somewhere..."

"Don't give me that self-righteous bullshit. You played with fire, you got burned. Get over it." Brian looked up slightly in their direction, and Dyson pulled her farther away so his voice wouldn't carry to him, "You're skating on thin ice Lieutenant, I don't know where you got the idea you could take ME on and win. Who the hell do you think you are anyway? Have you already forgotten where you came from?"

She yanked her arm away from his hand and just stopped herself from throwing a punch. "You will not get away with it."

"You go on telling yourself that, Baby Doll," Dyson gestured with his hand and pointed off to one side; only now did Naomi realize they were both standing right at the foot of Anna's grave, "I'm not one to forget people who try and double cross me... but since we've been through so much together, I'm giving you one last chance. Keep in mind, you go behind my back one more time..." He turned his head slowly and glowered down at the grave stone, "You'll be picking up where this little tramp left off. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?"

She stared into his eyes for a long moment, burning hatred flowing between them like a putrid river of fire... until someone came up behind Dyson and tapped him on the shoulder. The instant he turned, Brian slapped a small leather pouch against his chest with enough force to make him stumble back a step. "Do me a favor and hold onto that for me." Brian said dryly.

Dyson raised a brow in confusion. "What the hell for?"

"Alice wanted you to have it," Brian said flatly, "She said you'd get a kick out of it."

"Really? I'm surprised she even remembered me..." Dyson unbuttoned and opened the pouch and looked inside, stared at it for a few moments and then dumped the contents into his hand, a look of confusion on his face, "A Twinkie? What the hell is...?" When he looked up again, both of them were gone, both Brian and Naomi and the crew of the Tarawa, all vanished like ghosts in the fog. He looked around for a few moments, then shrugged blankly, stared at Alice's gift and then smirked. "Dumbass kids..." he said, tossing the pasty over his shoulder and turned to leave the cemetery with a head full of steam.


- 1203 hours (CST) -
 Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion... at every opportunity she had a chance to turn back... ever fiber of her being was screaming inside not to do this... but she did not stop, she could not stop. The children were all sitting contently on the rug before a buzzing TV screen, watching what could have been the very last showing of their favorite cartoons before the electric company killed their power. They were splitting a bowl of Nachos between them, the youngest of the three just barely old enough to be able to eat them. Good, she thought, I won't have to look them in the eye. She opened the door slowly, checked her pocket for her wallet and IDs, making sure to leave her keys on the hook next to the deadbolt. She would not be needing them again. It was Anna who first noticed her movements to depart, the others followed along and in an instant all three of them were on their feet. No... no don't look at me... "Mommy's just going out for some milk. I'll be back in half an hour."

"Hurry back Momma!" Anna said with her strange southern accent, the one she would carry for the rest of her life. Gwen never did know where the girl picked it up, but like everything else in the house she had grown sickened by it. It served as only one last reminder why she had decided to do this in the first place... she slammed the door shut on the three children and walked down the hall, down the stairs, catching the bus just as it pulled up to the stop in front of their dilapidated building. She rode the bus all the way to the spaceport, all the way to the shuttle that would take here to Zum City, away from this nightmare life and three ignorant children who could think of nothing but themselves.

And when she stepped off the bus, her mind's eye changed... the same very same bus, the very same stop, almost 12 years later stopping to pick up a now-teenaged Anna Larson. The tickets in the girl's hand, the excitement in her eyes at seeing her mother again after so many years of wondering and waiting. Gwen had seen this all before, and her heart sank as she waited for the gruesome scene to play itself out; the man behind her with the duffle bag across his lap, all the telltale signs of a Feddy intelligence agent, reaching into the zipper section and fiddling around with a small dial looking something like a punch clock. He set the bag down under his seat and got off at the next stop, and as he left Gwen began screaming out at the top of her lungs as a warning. Anna couldn't hear her; she was 10,000 miles away by now, dancing in a strip club in Zum City. She tried screaming again in warning but her voice was silent in her daughter's ears and her warnings went completely ignored... but someone else outside the bus was screaming a warning of her own. There was Naomi, running as always, chasing after the bus shouting at the top of her lungs with tears streaming down her cheeks. Anna turned her head at the sound of her voice and smiled. She opened her mouth to say something, but the first hint of a word left her lips at the same instant the fuse hit the trigger...

The alarms were screaming throughout the ship and Gwen snapped awake in her bed to the sound of the Captain on the P.A., "General Quarters, General Quarters. Lieutenant Larson report to the bridge immediately." She tossed off the covers and slipped into her boots, heading out of her quarters and down the hall in sweatpants and a tank-top. Now what? These little fire drills are getting tiresome.

At long last the rear hatch to the bridge opened and Lieutenant Larson made her presence known to the crew with a very loud and obnoxious belch. This time no one in the room even turned to look at her as she entered, eyes still glazed over from interrupted sleep. She planted her feet on the deck next to the forward viewport and looked out at the sight that had the attention of everyone else on the bridge: two Salamis class cruisers were approaching off in the distance, their guns aimed directly at their hull and mobile suits circling around them like mechanized vultures.

Lieutenant Larson regarded them for a few moments until one of the GMs moved up alongside the ship, set its hand on the side of the bridge and opened communications through the skin, "Do you read me? This is Lieutenant Aiello of the Titans Border Patrol. You're ordered to surrender immediately and prepare to be boarded. If you fail to comply, you will be fired upon."

Larson spun around and faced Captain Montgomery with a look of confusion. "Captain, can they just do that? I thought they needed a search warrant?"

"I thought so too..." Captain Montgomery opened a channel and answered calmly, "Titans pilot, we will comply IF we understand your justification—"

The GM pilot cut him off mid sentence, "I repeat: prepare to be boarded or you will be fired upon."

The mobile suit broke contact at that point, leaving Captain Montgomery and most of the bridge crew shaking their heads in wonder. Lieutenant Larson started for the hatch again, slightly annoyed with the situation. "I'll have your mobile suits ready to launch sir..."

"Hold on a minute Gwen..." The Captain stopped for just a few minutes to think, then slowly reached over to his consol and opened a laser channel to one of the cruisers, "This is the Alexi Leonov to Titans vessels: we're standing down. You have clearance to come aboard."

It was all Gwen could do to keep from leaping across the bridge and slapping the old man silly, "Captain! What the hell is...?!"

"With Green Noa under suspicion, we can't afford to be uncooperative. We don't a repeat of Side 6, after all."

Gwen was silent for a few moments, then turned slowly and looked back out at the two cruisers approaching in the distance, "That's assuming the Titans will leave us alone if we cooperate with them."

"It may be assuming too much, but we have nothing to hide, so the Titans will find nothing to complain about. Where is your faith Gwen?"

Gwen shook her head and moved back towards the hatch. "The only faith I have is in my mobile suit."

"Where are you going?"

"To greet our guests." She said, closing the hatch behind her.

*****

The two shuttles from the Titans landed with a thud in the main launch bay as Gwen and four others in pilot suits entered to greet them, all totally unarmed except for discontent frowns and nervous gestures. The hatch to the shuttles opened even before both of them were landed and more than a dozen men with rifles emerged from each, spreading out across the shuttle bay and heading immediately for the airlock hatches without so much as a greeting. After a moment, a pair of black GMs entered and landed behind the shuttles, and the two pilots emerged from the cockpits and descended to the deck to join he four bewildered Zeon officers, "Which one of you is the commanding officer?"

Gwen stepped forward and met Lieutenant Aiello as he landed, "Lieutenant Commander Gwen Larson, Marquis Fleet. As you are no doubt away, I've just come from the cruiser Agamemnon as liaison to the Ti..."

"I'm in no mood, Larson. Take me to the bridge."

Gwen raised a brow at the young officer's impatience, but out of respect for the Captain's wishes she complied with him. "Of course. You know we have nothing to hide." She turned and started leading the man into the airlock and down the corridor to the nearest lift. "We're merely passing through here on the way to our home port and have no intention..."

"I have asked you no questions, Larson. Now be quiet."

Gwen grit her teeth as the five of them stepped into the lift, and grit them even harder to arrive in the bridge and find three armed marines already standing alongside Captain Montgomery's chair. It didn't take her long to realize these men had entered through one of the gangway hatches while Aiello's party was still landing. "Who's in command here?" Aiello said coarsely.

Montgomery turned around slowly and nodded. "Captain at your service, Lieutenant."

Aiello reached into his pocket and pulled out two sheets of paper, both signed with the unreadable scrawl of a Federation Admiral. "By order of the Earth Federal Forces and the Titans Elite Forces, this ship and its crew are in violation of the terms of the Granada Armistice. This ship is to be impounded and crew detained for questioning. Failure to comply will be considered an act of war by the Marquis Fleet."

Captain Montgomery immediately picked up on the fuzzy logic of the complaint, and slowly stood up to address it. "Admiral Marquis never signed that Armistice. We're not part of the Duchy of Zeon..."

Aiello's response was as swift as it was unexpected; he quickly drew his sidearm and shot the Captain in the shoulder. No one else moved, the rifles from the three marines pinning down the rest of the officers in the room. "Any further complaints?" Aiello said slowly. No one answered him, and with a satisfied grin he stepped up, shoved the wounded Captain aside to be tended by the two nearest crewmen and placed himself in his chair. Already, Gwen could see two additional shuttles moving alongside the ship to offload yet another contingent of soldiers with rifles to further passify the Leonov's crew. "Now then," Aiello began, "As of this moment all Zeon personnel are confined to quarters. Senior officers will report to the bridge immediately. This ship will follow the New Zealand and the Tanzania to Konpei Island for further inspection. Does anyone here not understand this situation?"

In truth no one did, but with the .45 in his hand and the three men with assult rifles flanking the Captain's chair, no one dared offer another word of complaint. Gwen could only grit her teeth at the circumstances and swallow the burning rage at what was happening on her very own ship, And now I wonder if Duncan and Vanessa had the right idea after all...


 - April 5, UC 0084 –
- 1055 hours (CST) -
 In whispers and random inclinations in a dozen languages, a restless spirit had found its way to the homeless shelter and soup kitchen adjacent to St. Paul Lutheran Church. In a room the size of a high school classroom holding forty men, the silence in the air played on the nerves of even the nuns behind the counters and rattled the ladells in their hands. The whispers were all of the same subject, what all of them knew was coming soon but didn't know when or where. Everyone knew it, but everyone was afraid to say it out loud—the rumors of a new union that had snowballed since the Titans' sacking of Riah.

Forty men, face down in Styrofoam bowls of soup, even those who would normally shoot their mouths off for hours were as somber as a infantry men in a foxhole. For most of them it was a familiar feeling, too familiar for some... but when the double doors to the soup kitchen finally swung open, all heads turned and all jaws dropped. A Tall man in a Federation uniform now filled the doorway, ramrod straight with the commanding presence of a five-star general. But even the nuns could see this man was no ordinary Feddy; his face masked in a pair of enormous sunglasses framing a jagged scar in the middle of his forehead, light blonde hair, the lean build of fighter jock or a mobile suit pilot. But most striking about him was the uniform itself. It was standard Federation issue with a Lieutenant's insignia... but the uniform was colored crimson red.

The stranger stood firmly in the doorway, looked around the room, meeting the weary stares of these tried and hopeless men huddled here for a Church's mercy. He took off his sunglasses, tucked them into his pocket, and boldly looked each and every one of them in the eye, staring into each of their souls. When he had their attention, he stood up just a little straighter and declared to the room, "If there are soldiers among you, stand up now!"

All but ten of them stood, faced him with trembling hearts and stood at attention as best they could remember how. Immediately, all of them were surprised at themselves, and at the power of authority of the stranger. He stood there for a few minutes and met each of their eyes, then declared smoothly with a commanding tongue, "Any man who wishes to remain here in the basement, sit down now. The rest of you, follow me."

With those simple words, the stranger turned and left the room. All thirty men standing there immediately abandoned their soup bowls and followed him into the street, and after a matter of moments the ten still seated followed suit and joined the veterans. In half a minute the soup kitchen was vacant, and in another half a minute so were the streets. Six covered trucks, all military issue, loaded the men into the back to join the ones assembled from elsewhere. Men and women of all ages, with tired faces and weary eyes... the lost children of Lower Grenada were gathered here at last.

Lieutenant Quattro climbed into the cab of the first truck and nodded at his driver. The truck shifted into gear and started moving again, the other five trucks following shortly after it on the way to their final stop at Grenada's space port. They turned the corner and headed for the giant elevator platforms that would lift them to the upper levels of the city, and just short of them Quattro's radio crackled with the voice of authority, "Mr. Quattro, you were supposed to report in after your last two stops."

"We're on our way now, Mr. Brex. Sorry for the rather long wait but we've had an unexpectedly high turn out this morning."

Commodore Brex chuckled on the other end. "Seems you were right after all. This will teach me to underestimate the power of human discontent."

"Hardly, Commodore. These men were soldiers during wartime. Every soldier knows that tomorrow may not be peaceful."

"Hence your joining the AEUG, Mr. Quattro?"

The lieutenant grinned at the remark. That could be said to be one of his reasons... if one were to overlook the circumstances of his short-lived (and non-existent) career in the Federal Forces. "I don't know any other way to make a living, Commodore. At least... I'm better at training pilots than I am at civilian occupations."

Brex chuckled again. "I see your point... I couldn't really picture you as a basket weaver... anyhow, we're waiting for the new recruits over on South Block. The Titans ships have already left port and the Feddies will be leaving within the hour so don't worry about the time frame."

"Understood, Commodore Brex."


- April 6, UC 0084 –
- 1802 hours (CST) -
Four days from now, the battleship Dogos Gaia and its 12 mobile suits would arrive at Green Noa-II, meeting an otherwise complacent and now utterly useless Admiral Marquise to forcibly remove him from his colony. Admiral Carter was saddened by this turn of events, mainly at having wasted so much time working side-by-side with the Zeon dissidents only to have to ultimately dispose of them when the time came. But it was necessary all the same; the Titans needed their own dedicated construction facility and space borne center of operations for what was soon to come.

The ship was just passing through the asteroid clutter of Side 4, on its way to a polar orbit of the Earth that would take them straight to the Titans rally point at Luna-II. Even with his disappointment, the operation was sure to prove exciting for the type of action he would be able to see this time... and of course, there was always Lieutenant Cunningham... "You look good in a Titans uniform, Dieter."

"Thank you sir." Deiter said mechanically.

"Doesn't seem unusual to you? Turning on your former superiors in such a way?"

Dieter shrugged at the question, apparently not having given it that much thought before now. "To be honest, Admiral, I found your reasoning very convincing. The Republic of Zeon and the Titans SHOULD work together. Admiral Marquise stands in the way of this unity, just like you said."

Heh... I bet this one still believes in the Tooth Fairy too. Carter almost laughed, "What exactly do you value if not loyalty, Dieter?"

"Why, the progress of mankind, of course. If the Titans can keep order in the colonies, then the newtypes will be able to progress without interruption. In fact, if Project N is successful we might even accelerate the process."

Carter chuckled out loud this time. Poor little man. He's even easier to control than the Components... Dr. Adams arrived on the bridge at that moment with a stack of papers in his hands and a massive grin across his lips. Speak of the devil, "How's our new lab rat adjusting to the program?"

Adams seemed beside himself with joy. "In all my years I have never encountered a newtype with such amazing abilities. Number Nine interfaced with the system perfectly within an hour of adjustment, and she's already synchronized with the resonators."

Carter joined the Doctor in his frozen gleeful smile. "That is excellent news, Dr. Adams, but of course it means nothing if..."

"I'm WAY ahead of you, Admiral. Nine's conditioning is progressing slowly, but we can count on her obedience in the future. I'd still like to do more work with her to make sure her mind is properly aligned, and of course there's the issue of her mobile suit."

Carter's smile faded. "What mobile suit? You don't mean...?"

"I think we've finally found one that can operate the network effectively. If that is the case, we'll be able to use all four of them and synchronize them through Number Nine in combat. No more deploying them one at a time."

Carter turned slowly and looked through the veiwport at the stars. "It's ironic in a way... the answer to our problems was right under our nose all this time..." His mind wandered for the longest time, back to the old days of the project, before the Titans took over development and stepped up his funding. He had searched long and hard to find someone to replace Naomi as the tactical fulcrum of the trio but so far found no one who could measure up... until now. "I'm guessing the Marquis fleet will likely scatter when they see us coming, so I don't expect much resistance when we arrive... nothing either Six or Eight couldn't handle on their own."

Dieter cleared his throat loudly, but Carter dismissed him offhand. "I don't care for your complaints, Dieter. You'll support the Flash Gundams from the rear line just like everyone else. Understand?"

Dieter groaned slightly but straightened up and saluted. "Yes, Admiral. I'll follow your orders."

It was all Carter could do to keep from rolling his eyes at the man. "Run along now, Dieter. Your presence is no longer required."

"Sir," Dieter saluted again and marched off the bridge in step, at once leaving Adams and Carter shaking their heads in wonder.

"You sure HE'S not part of the program?" Carter said half-joking.

Dr. Adams shook his head. "It would be perfect if he was. The Components follow orders because they don't have a choice... Dieter does it because he LIKES to."

"That's very unusual for spacenoids," Carter's brain suddenly made a connection, "In fact the exact opposite. If people like Dieter weren't such a minority among the people living out here, the Titans wouldn't even need to exist."