(Dilemma of Flay Allster, Chapter 15: Beginning of a New History)

(16 July CE 73, 0845 Hours Local (UTC-5))
(Allster Enterprises Corporate Office, Memphis, Tennessee, old United States territory)
(Coords: 35° 8'37.42"N, 90° 3'10.42"W)

A helicopter ride from the landing site of the Dominion to the south of Memphis International Airport was the transport of choice for the crew going to Allster Enterprises. This was partly for security reasons, but also for operational tightening of exposed assets and to reduce the amount of support involved. A single helicopter was just as easy to man for Mendel as would have been a convoy, and the convoys were needed for relief and security operations in the heavier urban areas. And, given that there were only a handful of persons headed to Allster Enterprises in one trip, doing a small helo made the most sense.

"What's the plan look like today?" Oruga asked over the helo intercom after they took to the air.

"Board meeting in the morning, going over the shape of the company and the direction we are going to go. Lunch is catered, then we are in session with Legal and HR to handle pay for the days off and necessary paperwork for the final transfer of power back to my control. Any time left in the day, we're going over financial numbers and forecasts, otherwise that is first thing tomorrow morning," Flay said after a quick look at her itinerary.

"Sounds droll," Temple said heartily. "I could use less excitement in my life, for a while at least," she said.

"Agreed," Oruga acknowledged the point. "Getting shot at gets old after a while."

"Adrenaline runs out, and eventually you become immune to it," the pilot said as he turned to head north once the helicopter crossed westbound over the 55 Interstate. "Dominion, Ladybird, inbound Allster HQ."

"Ladybird, Dominion, confirm inbound Allster HQ. No revised flight plan at this time, you are cleared to land and hold for further orders."

"Acknowledge all, Dominion. Ladybird is clear on this channel."

"Is that what the radio stack is for?" Oruga asked.

"Aff, I'll need your help carrying the gear in so we can get it set up," the pilot explained. "We're about four minutes out."

"Four minutes," Flay echoed. "Feels weird, we're so close to one of my personal goals, but…"

"It is what it must be," Oruga commented.

"And it must be proper and just," Temple completed the thought. "You have done nothing for which you should feel strange or out of place. You have taken back your rightful possessions. Doesn't matter if your father was a flaming BC supporter, what matters is what you choose now that you are the queen bee in charge."

"Thanks, I think I needed to hear that," Flay nodded twice, though was still looking at the deck below her feet.

There was no further chatter in the back of the helo until they landed. In keeping with proper helo decorum, they waited for the rotors to spin down before they opened the side doors and exited onto the roof of the Allster Enterprises headquarters.

Miss Allster was expecting to be met by someone, same as had been over the past week. She was not expecting the entire board to be waiting for her at the door to the executive level, which was a bit surprising. The remaining board members for the corporation were on the level, persons that wanted to stay with the company for one reason or another, though this crew didn't strike her as the personable type to someone fairly well seen as a foreign agent.

"Good morning," Flay said to the assembled crowd.

"Ohayo, Allster-sama," the CFO said with a bow. "I hope I said that right," he said in English.

"Very well said, actually," Flay admitted. "Thank you for the showing of honor, all of you."

"Some of us were on the fence, Milady Allster," the Legal Counsel said. "We discussed the matter this morning, and it was pointed out to us that you could have sold the company, could have folded it, parted it out, let Blue Cosmos run off with it into exile, but you chose to remain and rebuild even after we supplied arms and equipment to people shooting at you."

"I could have, but I did not," Flay said. "Let us walk," Flay waved them into the stairwell down to the executive level, and with them came the remainder of the personnel from the helo as well. "I chose to hold this company and rebuild it, against the wishes of my father and my family, for three very important reasons. First, because sacrificing Allster Enterprises at the altar of the Blue and Pure World would have no value, either to the company, to the staff, or to the world. Second, because this corporation has so much potential in it, and even the Mendel Brass want to see it do better. Third, because I am an Allster, and the Allster Family builds businesses, expands businesses, takes over businesses, it is what we do."

The conversation halted as they entered the boardroom and dispersed around to their seats. Oruga and Temple immediately took position beside the doors to the boardroom, though both were 'loose' in their posture because there were two unknown parties in the room.

"Before we continue, ma'am, I would like to introduce Thomasz and Maryanne, the two mercenaries on the corporate retainer that you asked about last Thursday," Corporate Counsel Louise Meyers introduced the two unknown parties in the room.

"Ma'am," Maryanne nodded to Flay. Thomasz simply gave her a peace-sign wave.

"Excellent," Flay said, rather pleased that these two had not turned in resignations or were holding a grudge. "I'll want to read through your jackets (1) in the next day or two to verify your records for placement. Depending on your skill sets, you may be folding in under one of these two," Flay indicated Oruga and Temple with a wave of her finger; "Or I may have you operating as a separate team under the corporate banner." She looked down the length of the boardroom table. "Please be seated."

Flay was the last to be seated, technically, but only by a half-second. So would begin her first day on the job (officially), and it would last until 1900 in the evening. And with it would the fate of her corporation be rebuilt, one decision at a time.

-x-x-x-

(28 July CE 73, 0740 Hours Local (UTC-5))
(Ground Floor, Allster Enterprises Corporate Office, Memphis, Tennessee, old United States territory)
(Coords: 35° 8'37.42"N, 90° 3'10.42"W)

The orders from Galaxy Commander Rico were rather unequivocal.

Kyril had done some serious work in the European theater as an Assault Ghost, finding and disassembling some of the worst of Blue Cosmos while the war went on around him. As an Assault Ghost, he routinely operated outside the control of the regular army forces, alone and unsupported, and as a Brotherhood Assassin, he could very easily track down and strike down targets that would be a major problem during or after the war but which did not warrant a full military response. That distinction, doing operations for both the military and for ongoing defense of the people, made him something of a rare operator in the Task Force but not unique.

And then the Earth Alliance ran out of horsepower and had to surrender. Which, Kyril admitted, was all good in all real moral terms. As was always impressed on the Brotherhood Assassins, war is a bitch of a thing, chaotic and unpredictable and to be used only in extremis. For that reason, Assassins worked to prevent war when possible, limit war when necessary, and impede or cripple a war when it became all-consuming. Such was the duty of those who fought for Life and Liberty as a Brotherhood Assassin. Every strike taken, every sabotage rendered, every soldier slain, had to be justified to their overarching goal: protect life, encourage liberty.

And now, Kyril had his orders.

"Kyril Von Havet to speak to President Allster," Kyril said to the receptionist in the ground floor lobby.

"Identification, please," to which Kyril presented his Codex. "No photo ID?"

"Neg. Mendel Armed Forces, we are issued only a codex," which Kyril did not have to state substituted for bog-standard photo ID and did quite a bit more.

"One moment," the receptionist checked his codex using a standard identification terminal she had installed behind the desk. "Von Havet, Kyril, Commando Star Commander, posting Assault Ghost, operations records classified," she read off, mostly for the benefit of the security personnel in the room. After that, she gave the Star Commander a quick look up and down to make sure his vitals matched what he appeared to be. "Checks out, thank you sir." She returned his identification and provided him a visitor's badge (escort required). "One moment while I contact the Executive Secretary to verify Miss Allster is available."

"Take your time, I'm in no rush," Kyril admitted. As much as his orders mandated this process he was about to begin, Kyril had no intention of hanging around, he was still on the hook for another several years as a Commando Ghost.

"Day off, troop?" The head security guard for the lobby asked.

"Beyond this, yeah. Got any recommendations for the area?" By which he meant things to do or places to go.

"Graceland is the big one in this area, survived the Reconstruction War relatively intact from the bad old days of the United States. Home of Elvis Prestley, heard of him?" The guard asked.

"Aff, grew up on his music," Kyril admitted. "Visiting his home would be a good one."

"And there's a hundred little hollers and holes between here and Nashville with some damn good southern cooking. One of my favorites for a long lunch break is two blocks down Madison past the stadium, on the south side of the road, barbeque joint, used to be Arnold's BBQ in years past, now it's Jonesy's Grill and Sauce. Last proprietor was drafted in the war of '71 and didn't survive ZAFT's tender ministrations."

"Thanks, always heard some noise about Tennessee barbeque, I think I'll give it a whang," Kyril said with a nod to the guard. "What's your story, troop?" He asked, given a hunch that the guard was at one point military.

"Was a bonehead EA infantryman, '68 to '72. Operation Elvis and Op 8.8, also had a piece of the occupation of Orb. Once I saw TF Jokers Wild tear apart both ZAFT and the Alliance, I saw the writing on the wall and jumped ship fast. Damn good thing, too, the way you guys hammered the Alliance flat this go 'round, I'm pretty sure I would not have survived. You?"

"Always been a sneaky bastard, so I decided to put that to semi-professional use. Didn't work out well, I did four heists before I was captured and hauled before the courts. Never did anything violent, so the Administrative Officer gave me an option: term of bond to pay back my debts, or join the military to pay back. I signed up when the Commandos were doing a push to expand the Ghost rolls, signed up for that, passed the quals on the second go. Two years training later, the rest is very classified history."

"Damn, I knew a few guys like that in the EA, bad choices and an offer to go military or go to jail," the guard said.

"Mister Havet," the receptionist prompted the Ghost. "An escort is coming down from the C floor to see you to Miss Allster's office."

"Thank you," Kyril said.

-x-

Flay greeted her new Corporate Security Officer after he entered the room.

"What gives? I thought we had a meeting coming up in 90," Yuri said.

"We do, but this is a briefing from a Commando specialist, doesn't pertain to the coming meet," Flay said. "Oruga, Temple, in here, you're in on this as well."

"Special request?" Oruga asked as he came in and took a seat.

"Special briefing from a Commando, you and I have heard some small part of this story already," Flay said.

That heads-up clued Oruga into what was involved. "That conversation while we were waiting for the surrender on the Dominion?"

"Yes," Flay nodded twice.

"Is this it?" Yuri asked.

"One more, I sent Louise to escort the Commando up, she'll be involved as well," Flay noted.

The door to Flay's office opened a moment past Flay's answer, and two persons stepped in. One was the aforementioned Legal Counsel, the other being a Mendel Commando that nobody in the room had crossed paths with before.

"Miss Allster, presenting Star Commander Kyril Von Havet, Commando Ghosts," Louise introduced him.

"Operator Allster," Kyril took her hand for a shake. "Heard your speech, ma'am. You screwed the Earth Alliance out of any moral justification they thought they had, I remember hearing more than a few of the EA troops lamenting that you had the right of it."

"Thank you, Star Commander," Flay acknowledged the point readily. "I am already apprised of what this pertains to, so I'll let you begin. This is Louise Myers, Corporate Counsel, Yuri Siskevich, Corporate Security, Oruga Sabnak, still on the Dominion's rolls but eventually to be Mobile Suit Instructor for the company, and Temple Miska Brennan, still Bondswoman to the Dominion but soon to be Extended Cadre Instructor," Flay introduced the remaining persons in the room.

"Welcome, all," Kyril said. "Some of you have already been partially apprised on this matter, but for all of you, I welcome you to the shadows. I am Kyril Von Havet, Commando Assault Ghost and Star Commander, but today I speak as Kyril, Brotherhood Master Assassin and Instructor of Assassins. What I am about to explain to you will take time, so feel free to interrupt with questions as you see necessary."

"Is this…" Yuri started to ask a question, but petered it off after a few.

"You are included because you know the value of not blowing cover, Mister Siskevich," Kyril said. "I would expect the same in your professional conduct, especially when the service of the Assassins benefits everyone to a degree and their parent corporations to a massive amount."

"Point taken," Yuri said immediately.

"The name Brotherhood of Assassins is an old name, it goes far back into the annals of history of humanity and reaches well into the future. The name is our method, our purpose is simple: we defend life and liberty wherever our blades may go. We are the shadows, the unspoken soldiers in the continuous war between the free will of Man and those who would attempt to control or enslave that free will. Every person in this room knows the wages of the domineering dezgra of society, those who would control, those who would sacrifice whole nations for control and power. The Brotherhood of Assassins are the reapers that thin out the control freaks where we can, and remove them completely from power when possible so that freedom and life may prosper once more. This is our duty to Existence, we work in the dark to serve the light, to protect the light and the life."

"Not a bad goal," Temple said. "Why us, though? Sounds like you're better suited to running solo or small teams."

"Normally, yes, we work alone or in small teams," Kyril answered the lesser of Temple's two questions. "We have seen that small team structure work sometimes and fail sometimes. In absolute terms, the best results we have had is when we work through and with the major and minor businesses throughout the land to achieve our objectives. Better still when we can work with those in power in a nation, those who value freedom, life, honor, purpose. Thus why I am here, now, to ask you to consider adding Allster Enterprises to the ranks of the Brotherhood. Allster Enterprises is a powerful corporation, and one sited well to help ensure life, freedom, and prosperity to the world and many worlds yet to come."

"Oi, we've made no mention of expanding off-planet, where did you pick that up?" Louise asked.

"It is obvious all the big corpos plan on expanding interplanetary and eventually interdimensionally," Kyril explained.

"And thus, you get in place and keep the corporations on the straight and narrow, to prevent them from becoming pawns to the controlling shitheads, or worse, that the corporations would become the controlling shitheads themselves," Oruga fleshed out the reason why Kyril was moving in the here-and-now.

"In a word, aff," Kyril admitted. "We have seen whole planets soured by a multitude of corporations taking control of the masses, to the point that the corpos used the husks of the governments as a stepping plank to become the controlling parties themselves. When they tried taking their subsumption routine to the stars, we had to act to protect the Star Empires. It became incredibly messy," Kyril admitted. "We broke the corporations and the control-freaks running them, but the bloodshed necessary to achieve that reversal was horrendous, enough so that the Executors had to become involved to settle matters. And it was four generations before that world was ready to stand on even footing with the worlds of the Star Empires, so thorough was the damage to liberty and life on that one world."

Flay sighed. "A bloody revolution and four generations more to unscrew that problem," she commented. "Anyone in here say 'no' to doing it right before it becomes a problem?" she asked.

"Hell with that, I'm ready to volunteer," Yuri admitted.

"Same," Oruga admitted.

"Not sure about volunteering, but I'm definitely on their side," Temple said before she waved a finger at Kyril.

"I'm no combatant, so probably not much use to the Brotherhood, but…" Louise admitted.

"Not all Brotherhood members are combatants," Kyril put a quick end to the line of thinking. "As with every army in Existence, there are those who fight, and those who support. We would like to teach the Extended cadre how to fight, but more than that, we would like to lean on the corporation for its support as well. Transport, logistics, real-estate, communications, organization, safe-houses, even just a shoulder to cry on is an immense help," the Commando Ghost said. "We will help solve the problems of the corporation as we move through its ranks, facilities, territories, and through the nations that Allster Enterprises calls home, if you shall have us."

"Anyone in this room object?" Flay asked.

There was no objection.

-x-x-x-

(10 March CE 74, 0740 Hours Local (UTC-5))
(Allster Enterprises Forest Training Center and Proving Grounds, Tennessee, old United States territory)
(Training Center Staff Building Coords: 35° 4'26.02"N, 86°53'39.09"W)
(Farmstead Coords: 35° 6'25.30"N, 86°54'9.69"W)

Roughly 290 kilometers due east of the Corporate HQ, Allster Enterprises had purchased several abandoned farmsteads and a large swath of overgrown forest area due north of the Tennessee town of Elkton. Bordered by the 65 Interstate on the east side, the 31 Highway on the west, and Hardy Road and Bunker Hill Road to the north edge, the new Proving Grounds had been mapped out at roughly 8600 acres (35 square kilometers) of multiple terrain types of ground to work with.

Acquiring the ground had been technically simple for Flay's team. Under Magi law, she could not force or coerce forfeiture of property, so she had to bargain her way to contiguous borders with the residents of the lands. The easy part for it was snapping up the abandoned properties; of all the RDs (1) and farmsteads in the chosen area, roughly 45% of them were abandoned with no clear chain of possession, and another 40% of them were abandoned but had a clear chain of possession. Of those properties that had clear chains of possession, two of them belonged to known signatories of Blue Cosmos and another belonged to a shell corporation under Blue Cosmos, so Flay had no trouble acquiring them at appraised value less fines imposed to BC signatories based on their conduct during the war. The rest she gave fair offers for and received decent counter-offers, so those properties were easily snapped up.

The remaining 15% required some extra legwork for Allster Enterprises, due to the fact that the properties were still occupied. Some residents sold at fair market value at first offer, glad to be able to move in toward one of the cities where factories and jobs were springing up like mushrooms. Some residents took a couple offers before they bit. A few held out until they were informed what the plan for the property was to be, and decided they did not want to live in or nearby a Proving Ground. And, oddly enough, despite being at threat of becoming inadvertent weapon test subjects, three residents on the south side of the area (along the Highway 31 route) declined any offer and willingly declined the sale with the clear knowledge that their backyard was going to become a training ground and weapons proving ground.

And then there was Mack Anderson.

"We're moving this down there?" Flay asked as Oruga's Gundam approached the site of Farmer Anderson's house.

"That's the plan, and you signed off on it," Oruga confirmed before he jumped clear of the Raider Gundam he was hitching a ride on, and the Raider transformed to MS form so it could land across the road from the farm, same as his machine. "Swampy, scuzzy green pond, five out buildings, a house that looks like it was built in six sections, and cattle. Lots and lots of cattle."

"Not seeing them," the Raider pilot said.

"They've already been moved down to the new plot," Oruga said. He had been on hand to watch the transport of the cattle down to their new paddock southwest of the farmstead, a large abandoned farm between the 31 Highway and Richland Creek had been purchased to compense Mack for his property within the Proving Ground. He was technically getting roughly double the land out of the exchange, but given the price of land in the here and now, Flay considered it a small price to pay to get him out of harm's way. "We're here to take LIDAR maps of the outbuildings and assist with moving the house." He flipped on a radio circuit for the movement group. "Hauler, Calamity, I am onsite at this time, what is your status?"

"Calamity, Hauler, we're still on the 65, expect we'll be there in 30. Our forward team should be at the house shortly."

"Copy all. Calamity and Allster One are going mobile." Oruga took a moment to lock out the Gundam but kept it running, then opened up the cockpit and helped Flay to climb out onto the door deck. A few moments later, both were on the zip-line down to the ground as the farmer came out of his house. Once landed, they were quick to cross the road to the farmer's house and met the farmer halfway.

"You the head honcho of Allster?" Mack asked.

"Been called that a few times," Flay indirectly answered him. "Flay Allster." The farmer and the CEO shook hands.

"Looked into you after your legal team came a-knockin'," the farmer said. "Saw the recording of the Trial where you took back your corporation. How did you manage to keep a stone face after those wenches tried screwing you out of it all?"

"Oh, I wanted to," Flay said candidly, meaning she wanted to do some gloating. "Would not have helped my position, so I bit my tongue and answered the Legion Commander's questions as it went."

"And then you're also a Mobile Suit Operator. What's that position 'bout?" he asked.

"I tell these guys where to go and who to shoot," Flay pointed at her boyfriend. "At least the Mobile Suits on the Dominion, that is. We answer to higher controls when we operate with the larger ships."

"Okay, that's some serious metal. And you are?" Mack asked of Oruga.

"Oruga Sabnak. Dominion Gundam pilot and chief instructor for Mobile Suits for Allster Enterprises," Oruga and the farmer shook hands.

"You're still in the military?" the farmer's wife asked.

"Sort of," Flay said. "Officially we are still on the muster sheet for the Dominion. If it is deployed, we have to go. That said, we also have special leave to straighten out my wayward business."

"Why'd you pick this area, though?" the teenage daughter of the farmer asked. "I mean, isn't there whole dozens of farms and square kilos of ground out west that are open?"

"Not for long," Flay said. "I initially looked at those, but was ordered to look elsewhere — national policy favors farming and industry, they didn't want to soak up prime farmland for a proving ground. And yeah, there's a lot of farmland in the grounds here, but this area is 70 percent trees by acreage. This makes more sense, less farmland to sacrifice for given acreage, and is better territory for training."

"Yeah, fighting in a forest is a lot harder than fighting open field pitched battles," Oruga built on Flay's point. "The only territory worse than good heavy forest like this is mountain terrain or cities."

"Space?" the teenage daughter asked.

"If you're not in a shoal zone or debris field, space is easy," Oruga said. " 'Specially for a big monster like mine."

The door to the house opened. "Whoa, cool! X-131 Calamity! And the X-370 Raider!"

"Son, watch your step," the father cautioned the teen as he approached.

"Kid knows his stuff, points for that," Oruga said.

"Hey mister, you the pilot of the Calamity?" the Teen asked with near-zero reservation.

"Yeah, only on Tuesdays, though," Oruga said with a clear hint of humor to voice. It didn't hurt the joke that today was a Friday.

"Cool! Can I sign up to learn how to pilot?" he asked, either disregarding the joke or having missed it.

"Well, I won't say no, but you have to make the grade, and I mean in school, at home, at the company, and in the selection testing. We don't hire scrubs or slackers, you have to walk in the door ready to do your best."

"Well, guess I'll have to do better, then," the teenage son said. He started to ask a question, but was interrupted by the arrival of the 'lead team' for the move project.

Thus began a day of working with the family, their own engineering teams, and the local groups to move a house several kilometers down the road to a new resting spot. It was, in essence, a costly and exorbitant venture, but prevented having a no-fly zone in the middle of the proving grounds. And Oruga had a couple curious ride-alongs for his phases of the work detail, first in lifting the house onto the retasked Mobile Suit Hauler for the move, then in uprooting trees too close to the road so the hauler could pass, and finally lowering the house onto jacks at the new site for the final emplacement.

Flay would expand the ground north and west several times in the future, and would have to move more farmhouses to make it happen. And it was that showing of goodwill, as well as her continued employment of the farmers in the area to service the farm fields in the proving ground territory, that would help cement Allster Enterprises as a decent corporation to work with, work for, and be neighbors to.

-x-x-x-

(1 August CE 74, 1000 Hours Local (UTC-5))
(CEO's Conference Room, Allster Enterprises Corporate Office, Memphis, Tennessee, old United States territory)
(Coords: 35° 8'37.42"N, 90° 3'10.42"W)

It was common practice for Allster personnel to remain standing until the CEO or presenter for a meeting to declare it clear for them to be seated. So it was for this meeting, when Flay entered the room, she moved to the head of the table and stood next to her chair as everyone else did so as well. "Good morning. Please be seated."

After the troupe of twenty administrative personnel took seats, Oruga and Temple took their customary guard positions next to the doors, but were not alone — two Mendel officers entered. There was a quick comment raised from the persons at the table about the fact that all four were armed with either sub-guns or shotguns, but it died quickly. Flay had commissioned a contractor to retrofit an indoor shooting range into the basement of the East Building, which was presently being refitted and rewired for corporate expansion.

Flay took a moment to look over the twenty faces in front of her before she began. It was a short look, all else being equal: she did not want to dwell on those who had chose to depart. Some were familiar to her, others she had seen only in passing, but none were Director-level or above, meaning she rarely (if ever) dealt with them directly.

"Ma'am, what's the summons for? I have a weekly managerial meeting at the same time," one of the familiar faces asked.

"I have convened you here for a quick consultation because your twenty names are on the rolls for deportation with the next Abjuration run," Flay said. "HR received a Telex this morning from the Garrison Administration informing us that you twenty are to be released from work today so that you may be choppered to the Administration building in Nashville for initial processing. Once that is completed, you will return here for your official termination by HR and to clean out your personal effects."

"Oh, wow," a lower-level secretary gaped. "I'd forgotten I signed up for deportation."

"Same," a programmer complained.

"Any questions on how the process is to go?" Flay asked.

"Can we rescind our application?" a janitor asked.

"That I do not know." Flay looked past the table to the pilot of the chopper. "Star Captain?"

"Your final opportunity to rescind is at the initial processing," the Star Captain and pilot of the transport chopper on the roof said. "You will be asked by the induction officer if you wish to modify or rescind your application. At that time, you may inform them that you intend to remain, and you will receive the briefing on procedures for remaining. If you do not rescind at the initial processing, you are locked in for the abjuration without an extenuating circumstance to clear you," she explained.

"The flight to Nashville is your last chance to change your mind. Use it if you will. Anybody that remains may remain with the company when you return, just inform HR that you declined the Abjuration and they will reverse the termination. Keep in mind, though, we will be informed by the Abjuration Administrator who is still abjured and who rescinded, so no shenanigans," Flay said. This was not the first group of Abjured she had to send off, and a couple attempted sabotage on their way out the door, hence the termination of anyone that was to take the flight.

"I had to clean up the shenanigans from one of those sour grapes, I sure as hell won't shit on my colleagues on the way out," the programmer said.

"Thank you for that," Flay nodded to the staff programmer in question. "Any questions?" The crew was silent for fifteen seconds. "Please follow the Mendel helo crew to the flight deck, they will get you situated on the transport to Nashville."

"Thank you for keeping us to abjuration," an accountant gave a short bow before she filed into the line headed up to the helipad.

After the crew was out, Flay sighed mightily. "No trouble, this time," Temple said.

"Wasn't expecting any," Oruga admitted.

"Trouble is not the problem, the hatred is," Flay admitted. "We just lost twenty more persons to an impossible creed."

"And at least six of the ladies are on this side of menopause, meaning they can still have children," Temple pointed out. Two were obviously too old to have any more kids, meaning that they were leaving out of personal preference and would only be a temporary issue on the new world. Flay had read through their HR jackets, both had children that were either killed in the past two wars, or had children that had decided to 'defect' to the new nations.

"The chain reaction continues," Oruga shrugged. "I'd say I'm of mixed feelings about this, but only to a certain extent. They earned their fates by nuking the Mjolnr, Mendel II, and Des Moines. Really, by Magi policy, they should have been annihilated for firing weapons of mass destruction on civilians. Empress Atrebas gave them a clean way out, which is more than I would have given them."

"Same, I don't think I would have shown the grace that Lady Atrebas did," Temple admitted.

Flay shrugged. "If it came down to me giving the orders, I think I could have gave the order to pull the trigger," Flay said, having considered the question more than once in the past from a hypothetical standpoint. Her next was an admission that she wasn't sure about her resilience after giving such an order: "Whether or not I ate a self-inflicted bullet after I ordered the death of millions of people, probably leaning likely."

"Just means you have a heart," Temple said. "Beats the hell out of the former rulers of these lands."

"I'd say more of a conscience than a heart. Djibril had a heart, a black and hateful heart but a heart," Oruga pointed out. "Bad Makeup Fuckstick also had no conscience, which is why we had to scrap his ass and brig him for eventual deportation. No such lack in this room."

Flay giggled. "I still laugh at how he got the run-around from the Strategic Psionics and the suborbital bombardment before we ambushed him."

"That was wild," Temple admitted. "That was one pisser of an ambush, too. Those bozos had no idea what hit them until the shooting was almost over."

"That's how it is supposed to be done, young one," Oruga admitted.

Flay nodded, then smiled. "Twenty c-bill bet."

"What's the bet today?" Temple asked.

"Five of them come back," Oruga raised his own twenty. He considered it a not very difficult guess at the competition for the day.

"Eight, easy," Flay held hers up.

"Only three," Temple pulled a folded twenty from the strap of her bra.

"Split the difference if it falls in between two of ours," Oruga acknowledged the point.

"I guess we'll just see what we'll see," Flay nodded. "Stick close, the next meeting involves facility sites for the new Allster Extended program."

"Oh, the fun stuff!" Temple found these meetings both boring and critical.

Only two of the personnel for Abjuration would rescind, making Temple the winner for this cycle. The remaining 18 persons were on their Dropships no later than September 1st, and the Golden Phoenix jumped out for Blue Terra 10 September CE 74, the sixth run out of what would be 28 total Abjuration Transports.

-x-x-x-

(4 May CE 75, 0900 Hours Local (UTC-5))
(Allster Special Operations Group Administrative Office, Allster Enterprises Corporate Office, Memphis, Tennessee, old United States territory)
(Coords: 35° 8'37.42"N, 90° 3'10.42"W (3 floors below C-Suite floor))

"Budgeting is a bitch," Oruga complained for not the first time today.

"It is what it is, sir," Extended Pilot Candidate Kuzey Dreesens retorted, though after he said it he felt as if his answer was a bit too sharp. "Sorry, sir."

"I'm whining, I should not be," Oruga said.

"We can blame the South African Union for pissing in this kettle," Pepe Szabó pointed out the big flailing red flag in the room. "They start sorting out food riots with machine guns, the rest of the world yanks their capital and business from their exchanges. Everyone loses."

"Aye, everyone loses," Temple said from the doorway to the SOG Administrative office.

"Got the latest numbers for me?" Oruga asked the senior SOG Operator under him. At one time, Temple was convinced that her road was only to Mendel, but a conversation in the Bondsman Hold of the Dominion had convinced her that working for Allster was just as beneficial.

"Flay was not happy having to pass these down, but here we are," Temple passed to the SOG Administrator (effectively, a Director of the company) the revised budget totals after the latest round of losses taken by Allster Enterprises courtesy of the happenings in South Africa.

Oruga opened the folder. "Well, that's a bitch and a half."

"How bad?" Pepe asked. Oruga simply handed him the folder as an answer, to which he read it. "Yeah, that's bad. Looks like my Cardboard Box Gundam Training idea is back on the menu."

"No it's not," Kuzey poked Pepe, so Pepe handed him the folder. "Yeah, it is, sadly," he reversed his declaration after he had a look at the bottom line.

"If it would do any good, we could go over and sort out the South African Government pukes that are giving these shit orders," Pepe declared.

"Won't help," Oruga pointed out. "Injecting chaos and violence into an already chaotic and violent scenario only makes things worse. Like tossing a full gas can on a bonfire, that only spreads the fire."

"Gas can and road flare," Kuzey said with some humor to voice. It was one of his favorite sabotage tricks that he picked up from a Ghost a while back, a field-expedient way to start a nasty fire with materials on hand.

Oruga snatched the folder back from Kuzey. "Well, Temple, please pass back up to Flay that the numbers are received, and if I'm doing the math right, this will only set us back six months."

"Will do," Temple came to attention, turned smartly, and was out the door fast enough.

The three guys doing budget were silent for a few moments, until Pepe broke the silence: "The arse I want, but probably has no interest in guys right now," he commented, still looking at the door.

"She might, don't think anyone's asked her out on a date or anything," Kuzey pointed out.

"Watch your step, though," Oruga commented as he started doing some numbers on a notepad. "If I have to do sexual harassment paperwork on you, what is left of your arse will be served in the cafeteria, finely ground, skillet-browned, and seasoned to taste, how copy?"

"Copy all, sir!" Pepe said hurriedly.

"Okay, here's the thing. Given our revised budget numbers, we're going to have to change up the plan," Oruga said. "We've already ordered our first set of machines, so we can't back out of that without looking like dicks."

"Good to avoid that," Pepe pointed out.

"Unfortunately, we don't have the budget to run them as we need," Oruga continued. "We have enough budget to run around eight training sorties on the new frames, assuming whole class is involved."

"Eight sorties across seven months? That's nowhere near enough to build or keep proficiency," Kuzey pointed out the shortcoming to come.

"No joke, one sortie a week was considered a 'light' training week on the Dominion. So, we change the plan," Oruga flipped to a new note tablet page. "We're going to take a proposal down to the Engineering group, and see if we can inject some of our training budget into their engineering budget to get it moving."

"Oh, get the slide-rule-heads involved? Awesome! But what's the plan?" Pepe asked.

"Nanomachine simulation pods," Oruga showed him a separate note-tablet that he had drawn a doodle on with some notes.

"Huh?" Pepe took ninety seconds to decipher the hieroglyphics in front of him. "A shell pod filled with a Nanomachine Hive that is reconfigurable for any cockpit we want to train on?"

"Holy hell, we could use that for a whole lot of things, not just Mobile Suit or Gundam cockpits," Kuzey said.

"I looked into simulators in the past, they have one big screaming flaw: you buy a simulator for one classification of hardware, and if you get rid of that machine, well, now you have to have your simulator reconfigured as well, if you're lucky and it can be up-cycled. If not, you scrap the sim pod and get a new one. By doing this as a programmable and changeable nanomachine hive, well, you can do simulations for anything you can feed programming into it for," Oruga pointed out the utility of the plan.

"I'm sold," Kuzey said. "When do we talk to the engineers?"

"I've got a thought." Pepe stalled the discussion on an appointment with the engineers. "Most simulators are horrible about doing motion simulation. Can we get them to do a bit better on that? Like, maybe some Gravitic Lattice built into the shell circumference so it can simulate G forces properly?"

"Oh wow," Oruga added that to the notepad pretty quickly. "I like that thought."

"So do I," Kuzey noted.

"Any other ideas?" Oruga asked, and neither responded. He put in a request for a meet later that day to get the ball rolling on the new Sim Pod Project.

In years, decades to come, the Sim Pods would become one of the hottest offerings for Allster Enterprises Armaments Systems, a cheap and easy way for pilots to build their skills and keep them sharp without the costs and destructiveness involved in operating a full-up Mobile Suit. Anaheim Electronics, Xigon Systems, Maius Military Industries, Morgenroete, Scandinavia Armory GmbH, and Adelaide Electronics would all create their own versions of these pods, but because Allster was first to the party, Allster would hold primacy of place for over a century.

It would be that combination of innovative technology solution and primacy of place that would change the future course of Mendel in several hundred years, as a lady would use an array of Allster Enterprise Sim pods to learn the art of Mobile Warfare and thus become something far greater than even she ever imagined possible. And it all came back to an idle scratch-note written up by Oruga Sabnak as a way to work around a budget shortfall created by a nation halfway around the world that he would never set foot in.

-x-x-x-

(26 September CE 75, 1500 Hours Local (UTC-7))
(Allster Family Mountain Ranch (Formerly N-Bar Ranch), Montana, old United States territory)
(Coords: 46°51'15.15"N, 108°56'18.85"W)
(One Mile Cabin Coords: 46°48'15.12"N, 108°58'31.26"W)

What was once the N Bar Ranch before the Reconstruction War had been bought up by Flay's Great-Grandfather during the S2 Influenza as a way to acquire some prime cattle territory in the foothills of Montana's mountain territory. Her Grandfather and Father had each expanded the N Bar Ranch into private properties surrounding it, sometimes by sale, sometimes by less-than-savory action, but always with an eye toward expanding the reach of the ranch and expanding the amenities for the family.

Today, Flay would be finalizing another expansion of the ranch area, buying in two ranches to the northeast to expand the grazing area and the herd. These last two purchases would give the Allster Family contiguous ownership from the Old Baldy Mountain all the way to Highway 87, with options to expand both north and south on the table for her next acquisitions, and she was reviewing what options she wanted to exercise next.

But that was not her big reason for coming out to the family holdings. She wanted the first real vacation of her life since before the first war, and she wanted to introduce Oruga to the lands that they would eventually retire to. And, most of all, she wanted some alone time with Oruga to pick his brain and maybe dive deeper on their relationship? Time would tell if she would go in that direction, or wait a little longer, she figured.

"Coming in for landing, milady, sir," the cabin crew for her private jet declared to herself and Oruga.

"Long time since I've been home," Flay said.

"Long overdue, milady," the Ranch Director said. He had flown down to Memphis on the jet to meet with her, and the flight up to Montana had been largely spent going over ranch paperwork, information, planning, and expansion. "On the right, you can see the Number Three herd as we come down on the 24 side of the runway."

Oruga looked out the window, and did a double-take once he saw it. "Oh man, that is massive! How many head is that?" Oruga asked.

"That field is about 3800 acres fenced and irrigated. We're running one of our medium herds in there, that's about 5000 head total. It's good ground, produces about 1200 pounds of forage per acre so we can support better than one cow per acre in there."

"Nice," Oruga said. "I take it not all the fields are irrigated?" he asked just before touchdown.

"Unfortunately not. We don't have the equipment to haul the irrigation systems to some of the fields," the Ranch Director said just as the private jet touched the ground.

"We have lift capability," Flay said with a wink to Oruga.

"A little bit, yeah. Might bring Xene up here with a couple Raider Full Spec units, 120 tons of Gundam should be enough to get the gear wherever you need it," he said just before the pilot kicked on the thrust reversers to rapidly slow down the jet.

"That'd do the job real hurriedly," the Ranch Director agreed a moment before the jet turned down the taxiway to the family hangar.

As the plane was rolling out, several vehicles of the staff for the family holdings came up by the access road, though in following with aircraft movement procedures, they did not cross onto the ramp or taxiway until the private jet made the turn into the family hangar and came to a complete stop. "How many jumped ship when I dethroned my sister and cousins?"

"Two, both BC Hard-liners. Five jumped ship when they heard your speech from the Dominion. And good fucking riddance, excuse my language ma'am," he said.

"I agree completely, good fucking riddance," Flay said as the pilot shut down the two side-mount engines on the private jet, then the tail-mount engine of the three-engine private jet. After the engine spooled down, a crowd began coalescing on the door side of the aircraft (the port side).

"If I may, ma'am," the flight attendant said while the pilot opened up the side door; "allow me to be the first to say, welcome home, milady."

Flay nodded. "Five years running, Gracie," Allster said as she stood up. "Thanks for sticking with the family."

"I considered quitting, your cousins nearly drove more than a few of us to resignation, but when we heard your speech, we knew you'd eventually take the family holdings back."

"Aye, more than a few of us considered quitting if not for the family legacy and your speech," the co-pilot declared. "Ready to deplane, milady?"

"Let's do it," Flay waved Oruga toward the door and picked up her laptop case on the way past the work area. She was first to the door and down the eight steps to the hangar floor. Oruga was second out the door as the cheering began for Flay's arrival.

"Welcome home, Miss Allster," the head maid for the household said.

"Thank you, Rosa. Last time I was here, the first war was in its infancy," Flay said, then nodded. "Before everything happened. A lot has changed, but one's home should always be where the heart is."

"This has always been your home, milady, but now it is your estate as well," the estate majordomo said. "With your father George's passing in the war, this rightfully belongs to you, and more is the better it was ripped from your cousin's hands and returned to you."

"Speaking thereof, ma'am, where will you be residing tonight?" Rosa asked.

"Today and tomorrow will be at the main house," Flay said. The main house was due west of the runway, the larger of two houses on the hill overlooking the runway. The smaller of the two houses was used as a guest house or retirement house for the present retired generation of the Allster family (of which there were none — Flay's grandfather died when she was seven). "Tonight, we'll fire up the bonfire pit out back and I'll give you the non-classified rundown of my time in the wars."

"Very good, milady," the Majordomo made a note to have the groundskeepers bring in some wood for the fire pit, maybe some marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores? He did remember that Flay always loved a good s'mores sandwich, and wondered if that still applied even five years after the fact.

"After tomorrow is up in the air, but I want to do at least one day, maybe two this trip up at One Mile Cabin. I need some quiet to recharge and plan my next moves." 'One Mile' was referring to a cabin fairly isolated in the woods due south of the main Allster Family household, and southeast of the hangar on the ranch runway. It was so named because the cabin's altitude was 5307 feet above sea level, or 27 feet above 1 mile. And given its location was roughly two kilometers straight line from the nearest road (closer to 4 kilometers counting having to drive forest trails), the cabin was supremely quiet and relaxful. "We're wheels up for Memphis as of 0900 in six days, have to be back to the airport for a patrol deployment of the Dominion the following day."

"You are still active, ma'am?"

"Another couple years, minimum," Flay acknowledged. "Legion Commander Lightbringer gave us special dispensation to clean up Allster Enterprises, and occasionally that includes some leave as well. And speaking of, this is Oruga Sabnak, pilot of the Gundam Calamity for the Dominion, and head of the Allster Enterprises Special Operations Group for the company. And, Oruga is the guy I most credit with rescuing me from a bad mental place after the end of the first war. Please see to him as you would family."

"Will do, ma'am," Rosa said.

"Now, enough with hanging out in a hangar, I do enough of that on the Dominion. I say we head in and settle down!"

-x-

(6 hours later, 2130 hours local)

"So, yeah, five years, every side of the war. Civilian in Morgenroete, then briefly crewmember on the Archangel, then captured by and later sort-of working with ZAFT, then freed by ZAFT, then into Blue Cosmos, then running cells in Mendel for Blue Cosmos, then technically Abtahka and quickly into Trial of Position for Mendel, rode out the second war telling Oruga where to go and who to shoot," there were some grim chuckles from the staff about that, "and now back to the family holdings and family business." She paused to take a bite out of her fourth s'mores sandwich of the night. "This has been a road, but ultimately worth it in every regard. I had the chance to work with each side of the war, see the guts of all the major players, and inadvertently told my story to the entire Earth Sphere in the process."

"Amazing to listen to," one of the groundskeepers said heartily.

"And embarrassing after the fact, but it happens," Flay said. "I found out after the fact that it was rebroadcast by JADE, the artificial intelligence entity from the Mjolnr, as something of a propaganda piece throughout the world. After the war, I found out it really worked."

"So, milady, what's the next steps on your mind?" the Majordomo asked.

"First and foremost is to finish consolidating the business holdings and ramp up production in areas where Mendel really needs it. Second, I intend to begin expanding manufacturing and the business possessions into both military and nonmilitary areas — the Ranch here will be part of that, agriculture and especially cattle ranching are going to be huge as Mendel begins interplanetary expansion. I intend that Allster Enterprises will be big on other worlds, not just here on Home Terra."

"Does that mean you'll be moving the homestead to a new world?" the Head Maid asked.

"Not at all," Flay reassured them. "This is our home, the Allster Homestead and just as much this is your homes, your livelihoods as well. I think we can make it on a different world, sure, but I wouldn't ask you to do that. And, frankly, I'm not ready to take that leap of faith yet, myself."

"Thank you, Miss Allster," one of the younger maids said.

"And the remaining big concept I have at this time, set up some heavy satellite stations either in earth orbit or at one of the L points around Earth. We need zero-G manufacturing, research stations, and the necessary supply and habitat stations to service them. The sooner we start acting like a proper interstellar power, the sooner we get there."

"Ships?" Rosa asked.

"Not yet, for now we charter hardpoints on jumpships until we have enough systems and outposts to justify having our own," Flay had already considered the possibility of Allster Enterprises having their own jumpship, but the costs for keeping such a ship was nasty expensive, more so than the company could stomach at this time. "Jumpships are big and super-expensive, even running one as a charter incurs heavy costs and a thin profit margin."

"Oh, wow, didn't know that," one of the groundskeepers said. "How hard is it to get into Jumpship school?"

"It's pretty exclusive, will be for the next few decades," Oruga handled that answer. He had spoken to Soritz Jamestown in the past, the jump engineer for the Mjolnr, and that was the answer that was at hand for that specialty. "Right now, the Jump Engineer classes are pretty much full of ZAFT, Scandinavia, and Orb personnel for their ships. That will change, eventually, but I'm not sure how soon."

"And what about you, good sir?" the Majordomo asked of Oruga.

"Not entirely sure where I fit in, but the Allster SOG will be there to defend Flay's plans and expansions," Oruga said. He had his suspicions about Flay's plans for their time up in One Mile Cabin, and truth to tell he had his own plans as well…

-x-

(Day 3 of vacation, 1900 Hours Local)
(One Mile Cabin)

Flay had been working on her expansion plans, granted — that was one of her major goals for the two days here at One Mile Cabin — but she had also been steeling herself for something else.

"Keid and New Home are first, obviously, they're the closest planets in our cordon," Oruga dropped his pen on the tablet he was working on. "Keid and Carver V are primarily agri, New Home and Procyon would be much better for industry. Which way do we go first?"

"Silly Gundam pilot, you assume we're looking at a dilemma," Flay poked him in the shoulder.

Oruga frowned. "You think we have resources to do both?"

"Oh Hell yes," Flay answered with a tone that bespoke confidence. "Our first forays into the deep dark of interstellar travel do not need a huge outlay of personnel. We put a geology crew on New Home and Procyon to begin laying in claims once they find the juicy stuff. We put agriculture teams on all four worlds — small ones to begin with — and use the incoming colonists to augment our manpower needs. As we build up food resources, the population naturally expands, and as more people leave Terra we start exercising the mineral rights our Geology teams have been claiming for us. Once we have the material, we start the manufacture. Manufacture and agriculture means an economy, and each world needs economy to drive the expansion farther out into the Mendel Cordon. Quick and dirty road to the stars."

Oruga stretched out and pushed his worktable away from himself. "Guess we've got a plan, then."

"I don't see a way we're going to short-circuit the process, this is how we're going to have to start it up. So we'll write up the documents and high-level primer tomorrow."

"Fine by me." He checked the time on his computer tablet. "Just after 1900. I'd call that a fair day's work."

"Agreed." Flay noticed the fire in the cabin was starting to dim, which would work as the perfect excuse to get him looking away from her so she could prepare herself.

Do I want to do this? Flay asked herself for not quite the hundredth time today, but not far from that number, either. Yes, I do want to do this. The conclusion was the same as every time she had asked herself the same question, every time she asked herself prior to this vacation, every time she had asked herself since she arrived, and now. The specter of her effective manipulation (bordering if not outright crossing into psychological abuse) of Kira Yamato still hung over her mind, but this wasn't manipulation. She had forsworn all such conduct in the past, she wanted to do this one properly. And now all that remained was those final steps.

I want him. That thought had not occurred to her in hours, days prior, but now it rang clearly in her mind. Maybe a product of alcohol? Flay checked the wine bottle she had uncorked for dinner, and realized that she had drunk only one glass and was a third into her second glass. Oruga had done three glasses and was partway into his fourth, which was not impossible for him. It was a good merlot, and Oruga was pretty good at doing mixed drinks — the Calamity pilot was very fond of either a Steiner PPC or a New Moon PPC, and Flay had no tolerance for any variant of the PPC drink.

I really want him, her mind rode over any semblance of protest. I'm going to do it. I'm going to do him.

Flay pushed her table aside and took another sip of her wine. "Fire's running low. Throw another couple logs on?" Flay asked as she stood up and stretched out.

"Just what I was thinking," Oruga stood up himself and stretched. "What's on your mind for a way to round out the night? ATV ride?"

Flay stretched out again and made sure that she was flexed out enough for what she was about to do. Oruga had moved to the fireplace and pulled aside the spark screen, so he was completely focused away from her. "Nah, that's tomorrow morning."

"Ride before breakfast, come back to the cabin for chow?" Oruga asked as he dropped the first log on the fire. Since he was focused away, he did not see Flay strip her sweater and shirt off, leaving only her favorite black bra on above her waist.

"What I had in mind, yeah," Flay said. "Finish up paperwork afterwards."

"Have all the major goals done before we go back to the main house, then," Oruga said as he dropped the second log on and closed up the spark screen. When he turned back to the couch, he saw Flay sitting in only her sweatpants, slippers, and bra, and immediately froze up, but only briefly. "Been a while since you've been this undressed in my presence," Oruga commented before he sat down next to her.

"Last time I was, it was medically necessary because a sniper aimed low," Flay pointed out. "Professional, if you want to look at it that way," she said before she craned over and gave him a kiss.

"Oh, the crazy shit we got into when we were young," Oruga said as something of a wan joke.

"We are not that old, you dork," Flay said, but still gave him another kiss for it.

"And I'm guessing tonight is personal," Oruga completed the hanging thought about her prior state of undress. He had not said anything to anyone about it at the time, but the fact that she had taken a hit had very much frightened him at the time, and that had caused a realization in him that he was very much attracted to her. And in the following months, years, he had quickly realized that he was very attracted to her.

"Very personal," Another kiss, and this time she shifted close enough that they were touching body-to-body. "Unless you think otherwise?"

Oruga made a show of deciding it for five seconds. "On further review, I'd like it extremely personal."

Flay embraced the larger Gundam Pilot and pulled him in close for a long kiss. When they broke up a minute later, the only thought in her mind was a mental shout of joy, in that she had what she wanted most in life right next to her, but also of victory, in that she had conquered her past demon and did it right this time. No manipulations, no projections, just herself and her heart, and Oruga and his heart.

I really want this, up close and real personal, her mind gave into what her heart had decided long ago. With a single, quick move, she rotated from facing the same way as Oruga, to straddling his lap and closed up for their longest, most meaningful kiss yet.

-x-

(Day 5 of vacation, 2045 Hours Local)
(Main House patio and fire pit)

"So, you keep using the name 'extended' and Special Operations Group interchangeably," the head chef for the grounds said. He had been Earth Alliance before the first war, but was out of the service before the first war kicked off and rewrote the history and future of the Cosmic Era. "What's the deal?"

Oruga finished off his beer and flipped the can into the trashcan just past the end of the pit. "Well, couple stories here, so bear with me. Ask any questions if you've got 'em." He stretched out for a moment, then as he dropped his arm his left thumb scraped across his pocket to make sure he had a special piece of equipment for later in this discussion. "The Extended program both was and was not Earth Alliance. It was run primarily under LOGOS, which is entirely civilian but the power-players in LOGOS called the shots in Blue Cosmos, who called the shots in the Earth Alliance. And there's a bunch of purists out there that say that the Blue Cosmos tie-in to the Earth Alliance is bullshit, when you see them, punch 'em in the face for me, please. I know Blue Cosmos called the shits, I watched Blue Cosmos call the shits, I dismantled their command and control apparatus alongside the other pilots of the Dominion SOG. So yeah, that 'special relationship' did exist, and Djibril liked it kinky in that relationship. Too bad he failed to bring enough army to the battle to do the job."

"Absent assholes," the Lead Chef raised his own beer in salute to the departed command section of LOGOS. "I've never questioned the validity of the war, but I know a few shit-stains that did. Most of 'em took the rubber duck boat to Blue Terra."

"Absent assholes," Oruga nodded in acknowledgement to the point. Several of the others around the bonfire echoed the salute.

"I think you've had enough to drink tonight, if you're mixing up 'shots' and 'shits'," Flay poked her lover in the leg from behind.

"Some days I feel like I've been shot at and missed, shit at and hit," Oruga admitted the defeat on the point; he had to pause a few seconds for the chuckles to subside. "Anyway, the LOGOS Extended program was to try to find a repeatable way to create soldiers capable of matching the better Coordinators out there without going down the genetic manipulation roads that the real-deal Coordinators were doing. The Extended program was an improvement, but not enough of an improvement and not repeatable enough that it would have been a war-winner. It also didn't help that the whole process was a physical and psychological clusterfuck from induction to deployment, so no, if the EA had taken the program full-scale it would have been a disaster."

"What stopped 'em?" One of the junior maids asked.

"We did. First, the three best of the first-generation Extended, Clotho, Shani, and myself, we were issued the best Gundams the Earth Alliance had in its inventory and assigned to the Dominion to hunt down the rogue warship Archangel. Welp, problem: when we tracked them to the area outside Mendel, we had no idea that we had crossed the doorstep of a warship that was the kind of ship from Hell that any EA sailor or pilot could have nightmares about. And they introduced themselves in a damn big hurry. Not only did these guys cold-cock and hammer the Dominion to the point that Captain Badgiruel had to surrender, Shani, Clotho and myself got a lesson in Mobile Armor combat from a master of the art: Century Commander Lightbringer. The three best-trained and best-equipped pilots in EA service, and it didn't mean shit against Angel Zero. He did two of us on his own, and captured all three of us for what we thought was interrogation, but turned out it was because he could sense something wrong with us. We never had a chance, and we didn't learn that fact until well after the first war."

"Nobody had a chance against the Mjolnr," Flay pointed out. "The Earth Alliance really did think they were the big bad boogeymen that determined who lived and who died in the earth sphere. The Mjolnr taught them they were not the masters of the battlefield, and the Golden Phoenix taught them that if you can do something once, it can be done bigger and better."

"We first-generation Extended learned the hard way that Lightbringer is one of the best of the best. The second-generation Extended thought they could do better. Oops, nope. The new anti-monitor Spec Ops warship Girty Lue got pancaked by the Dominion and Gerald Lightbringer again. Turns out that both Coordinators and Extended are not the top-of-the-line models in the human combatant tree, there are even nastier foes out there. So, now, the largest swath of the world is under new management because a few business punks thought they could call the shots against an empire that has shit on more threatening parties and lived to write the history about it. My sympathy for them is zero, but my thanks are eternal."

"How so, sir?" the Majordomo asked.

"Well, they created the Extended program, and because I did well in the training and selection, I was assigned to the Calamity Gundam and thereafter to the Dominion. That put me on a crash-course with the Magi, and more to the point it put me on a crash course first with a certain and rather infamous Flay Allster," and this time Flay slapped him in the back of his thigh, "and thereafter put me on a crash course with the Girty Lue and the realization that the Earth Alliance had a lot more Extended facilities than just the ones that Shani, Clotho and myself came from. So we assembled a plan to capture the Extended facilities and free the entrapped 'subjects' or 'biological CPUs' or 'Biological Operations Troops' or a few other rather insulting names that were used. Under the Earth Alliance, we were expendable, we were literally classified as equipment and not personnel. I still have a copy of the 'inventory' sheet that has Clotho, Shani and myself on it, it's in a frame on the wall in my office in Memphis, and I have copies of it in the Proving Grounds offices. It's a reminder that we were treated like disposable rubber dogshit by my former employer."

"And now you're going to revive the program for Allster Enterprises?" the Head Chef asked.

"A cleaned up version of it. The chemical enhancements are gone, that shit almost got the first three of us killed on more than one occasion. The mind-wipe work of the Second-Gen Extended is also right out the airlock, under some interpretations of Star League law that can be considered a war crime. Most of the physical augment work is gone as well, though some of the useful stuff will be reviewed. Hell, I'm thinking about neural interface implants myself, some of the work the Magi have done over the eons of their history with neural interfaces is amazing. What will remain is the hard-as-Spartans training regimen, combined with training lessons and conduct from all the big players in the Spec Ops fields: Mossad, SEALs, SAS, Green Berets, Spetsnaz, Rangers, and especially the Magi Commandos."

"You're all over the map with a list like that, good sir," the Majordomo pointed out. Oruga figured him for military in the past, and pointing something out like that was another proof point in that direction.

"Exactly," Oruga acknowledged the point readily. "The Allster SOG is going to be all over the map in real terms of duties to the company, that's flat unavoidable. We may have to fight a Mobile Suit scrap against raiders, rescue hostages from ecoterrorists, defend a ship from pirates, fight from a ship or board a ship as a hostile action, infiltrate and conduct espionage against opposing forces or corporations, conduct small-team sabotage raids, garrison facilities against attack, the list goes on. There are a multitude of things we could be called on to do in service to the company, and if you're not trained on how to do those things, you're not going to do it right or at all."

"Makes sense," the Majordomo acknowledged the logic.

Time to make my big move, Oruga thought behind a passive face. "And for damn sure wherever the company goes, we're going along for the ride to make sure our people stay safe and our interests are defended. For us, we Extended who signed on with Allster, that's personal and professional. Professional, in that our trade is the art of war. It's what we do. And it's personal for us, because Flay's gone out of the way to help us through some rough spots. I mean, there were some spiky bits in there, our early dating scene was kinda rough due to her still being Blue Cosmos on paper if not in reality," and again Flay slapped at his leg, but not seriously, "but in the end it all worked out very well. And the whole 'working on a warship' thing makes the dating scene very weird and very challenging, but we did manage to go on a few good dates and a few busted dates."

"Yeah, there was that one date in Rio that went south fast," Flay said. "This one I didn't cover the first night. We had dropped into South America to do some consultation with the USSA mobile forces. We were also granted some leave to visit in the country, so Oruga and I found a bar to have a drink and a bite to eat. We hadn't even placed our lunch order and a couple Blue Cosmos bitches decided to try to jump us. They tased Oruga incapacitated and I ended up using a table napkin dispenser to beat two of them down. Rare inter-war period victory for the Dominion, it was chalked up on the unit's record."

"That's awesome," the lead Groundskeeper asked.

"So yeah, when your girlfriend's willing to scrap a couple terrorist bitches with a napkin dispenser, and when she'll go into an enemy facility as part of an entry team to rescue the Extended within, totally a keeper. The whole 'worked on every side of the war at one point or another' thing is awesome, means she knows what's up from every angle. Bonus points for being the lady that tells me where to go and who to shoot," Oruga said, which elicited a few chuckles from the crowd. "Totally a keeper. Which is something I've been thinking about for a while now." Oruga had practiced this part a few times in private: he dropped to one knee next to her camp chair. "Would like to keep you around, if you'll have me as your husband," he said. In his left hand was a small ring box, the same box he had been using as a touchstone this evening.

The rapid shift of the conversation caught Flay unawares for several seconds, then a shocked gasp from her. Of course, given the way she had been going of late, she had only one answer.

"Oh, yes! YES!" Flay jumped from her chair and embraced her now-fiancee.

-x-x-x-

(10 September CE 78, 0330 Hours Local (UTC-7))
(Allster Family Mountain Ranch (Formerly N-Bar Ranch), Montana, old United States territory)
(Coords: 46°51'15.15"N, 108°56'18.85"W)

Oruga opened the fridge to check for what Beatrice needed at this hour. "Huh. No reserve of the good stuff," the Gundam pilot told his second daughter after he saw the empty vacuum bottle for Flay's breast pump waiting for her for the morning. "Have to go with the canned stuff," and he pulled a can of the store-bought Allster Agriculture baby formula out of the cabinet next to the fridge.

Opening the can one-handed was something of an art, but easily doable for Oruga. One of the first things he had learned in the weeks since Flay had come home with daughter number two, keeping her moving tended to reduce the volume of her crying when it came to anything except having to change a diaper. It was the exact opposite with daughter number one, Kelsie, who dropped her volume after her first harrangue if Oruga didn't move around as much while processing food or trying to generally calm her.

With the can opened, Oruga upended it into a formula bottle and put that in the steam bottle heater and sanitizer. "90 seconds, love," Oruga said quietly. To help pass the time and calm down the newborn, he took several laps around the island while her overnight meal was heating up.

The first nights between Oruga and Flay had been what they both wanted, but had not resulted in their first daughter; that had come between them at the end of their following patrol run on the Dominion. Flay had thought she was in the clear in terms of timing, and the two of them had a rare coinciding shift off, so a little bedtime romp had been how they rounded out their night. The day after the ship had landed, Flay had ended up in sickbay with significant nausea and thought it could be food poisoning, though the doc was quick to point out that Flay was the only victim thereof, which immediately changed the name of the game.

And, as required of Magi regs, since it had to be reported to their section commanders (Captain Jamestowne for Flay, Legion Commander Lightbringer for Oruga), Flay thought she was going to be brought up on charges for inappropriate conduct on duty. Which concern went out the airlock as soon as LC Lightbringer entered the medbay with Oruga in tow with a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Captain Jamestowne and CIC Commander Grey had both joined after lightbringer had explained the regs in detail: "Because you both were off-duty at the time you did the bounce, and I have no need to inquire about inappropriate conduct, there is no violation of regs," as the LC had explained. So, not only did the crew have cause to celebrate a coming wedding, but now an incoming child.

The timing had worked out very well for the new parents. Flay's maternity leave had been assigned to Mountain Home Extended Medical Center, so she was close to home at the time she gave birth to Kelsie Allster. The debate on family name was short between Oruga and Flay, since both wanted to follow in the common tradition of the Executors: sons would take the name of the father, daughters would take the name of the mother.

Round two, Flay and Oruga had decided, would be first-gen Coordinator, as would be round three in the future to come. So, they made sure to be careful in bedtime timing until they had a good opportunity to visit the Mountain Home Medical Center and make the necessary arrangements. That had been December of '77, which spaced out the pregnancies a bit and worked to make things easier for father, mother, and the staff at the Allster Ranch, of which the whole crew was falling over themselves to take care of the little tykes.

A few seconds before the steamer finished up, Oruga popped open the fridge to double-check that he had not missed a bottle that Flay might have left him; fifteen seconds of inspection past the timer, he was convinced that he was in the clear. Oruga knew intrinsically that Flay was not small by most common measures, but was surprised twofold by her bust during this adventure: one, in that she gained sizes rapidly during the first trimester of the pregnancy, and even after the birth retained some of that size, and two, she had no problems with breastfeeding and even produced well more than she needed. So, when not actively providing for first Kelsie and now Beatrice, she had been siphoning and storing for Oruga to give to her overnight.

With the bottle done, Oruga tested the temperature to make sure it was good, then went into the family room and grabbed a seat in his favorite recliner to feed his second daughter. The division of labor between the two had quickly worked out between them: Flay covered the days, Oruga covered the nights. It also helped that Oruga preferred working nights, and the Allster Enterprises SOG did a lot of night operations to help train for fighting in night-time conditions, which helped with readiness in the teams.

"Working late or starting early, good sir?" The Majordomo asked.

"Working late," Oruga said. "Just finished up my internal audit and accounting paperwork when the little lady here decided it was time for a late-night meal."

The Majordomo grabbed a chair from a nearby small table and pulled it up next to Oruga's recliner. "How are you doing with all this change, pilot?"

"It's not as bad as I conjured in my mind, but a lot more responsibility than I expected," Oruga said. "Helps that I'm a nighthawk anyway, so Flay gets her downtime and I get the watch when the sun goes down. You?"

"Three sons by two marriages. First wife and first son were slain by Blue Cosmos as collateral casualties while I was on deployment in the EA navy, and that is what drove me out of the military and towards hating Blue Cosmos. Before you ask, I fell into working here because I knew George Allster from prep school, and he wanted someone who could whip the ranch and grounds into shape. George was a decent guy with some bent-out-of-shape political views, but those problems come and go. My second try went better until my wife took up with some punker and took both sons with her on the way through the divorce. One son is a chemical engineer for PMP. Other son was killed in the first war, Battle of Panama, Tank Commander that was hosed even after the EMP blast and he surrendered. Since then, I have done nothing but hate the Earth Alliance."

"Makes sense," Oruga said. He could not fathom how much he would hate the man that took the lives of one of his daughters or his wife, but he was pretty sure it would be supremely violent.

"My one surviving son hates the Earth Alliance just about as much as I do, he had been signed up by PMP to take the trip to Blue Terra without his knowledge. When he found out he was on the block for shipping, he threw his badge at the security director, punched the HR Director unconscious, and went down to the Mendel Admin building for his area to request an out. When the Galaxy Commander over the area heard his story, he had three Trinaries of Armored Infantry in PMP's headquarters to audit the entire listing of persons going to Blue Terra. Apparently the CEO did not realize that he could not make that choice for his entire company, and he made the mistake of trying to Refuse the summary judgment of the Galaxy Commander after the fact."

"Oh man, how did that end?" Oruga asked.

The former sailor chuckled. "Mister CEO was gutted by the Galaxy Commander in the grass patch behind the corporate headquarters, you don't knife-fight a Trueborn Galaxy Commander of the Infantry. That is a terribly bad idea and losing proposition, as PMP learned that day."

"Absent assholes," Oruga gave a half-ass salute to the CEO of that story.

"There's one that better serves the world by departing it, for sure." The Majordomo sighed. "I was a little leery about Mendel and the Magi, especially when word starting coming down about some of the things the Magi have been into over the millennia. But, after seeing what Mendel has done with the country over these years, and how quickly they've cleaned up Eastern Asia and the Eurasian areas they control, holy shit has this world needed some new management."

"It's a repeated story," Oruga admitted. "Early in the history of the Magi, Terra Two had a council of dipshits that were trying to control and limit the world for nebulous reasons, similar to what we just shitcanned with LOGOS. Emperor Atrebas knew of them, and managed to keep them from screwing with the early Empire for the first couple centuries of their history, but a couple misunderstandings kicked off a shitfest of no small proportion. When the dust settled, it came out to be every nation on planet against their own citizens, except for the Magi who did their damndest to save lives around the world. Turns out after the fact, this shadow organization used the war to try to bury the Magi and try to reduce the world population by a few billion, make it more manageable. Atrebas annihilated all of the offending jackasses and appropriated their controlled regions for their own, and the people welcomed the Magi with open arms because their prior nations sucked ass and no amount of patriotism can sway a mother with starving children. Or sway a man who has to bury his children because the police wanted to be cruel in putting down a protest."

The Majordomo chuckled again. "The phrase 'my nation right or wrong' has definite limits in the modern era."

"And the more advanced we become, the more hypersensitive the average person on the ground becomes about it. To the point that the nations of the Cosmic Era had better learn a hard lesson from the demise of the Earth Alliance, or they could very quickly learn the lesson of the ascension of the Multimage Star Empire," Oruga said.

"Question becomes, will we keep that lesson in heart?" the Majordomo asked.

Oruga set aside the bottle for Beatrice; she had had her fill, and was now napping in his arms peacefully. "I damn well hope so, for her sake as much as the rest of us."

-x-x-x-

(4 March CE 83, 1500 Hours UTC)
(North of Allster Enterprises Survey Camp, heading toward Halbiero Starport, Halbiero Continent, planet Procyon)
(10 years after the end of the second war)

"Plans change," Flay said from her position in the jumpseat of Oruga's cockpit. The addition of two jumpseats in the cockpit of the Calamity was new, the product of depot improvements to the Calamity courtesy of Allster Enterprises' engineering acumen, especially when combined with their acquisition of Actaeon Industries, the original manufacturer of the Calamity. For all their savvy with battle equipment, the engineering capabilities of the Mjolnr and crew were rather thin, and not much was done to the captured Gundams other than removing the very heavy and inefficient battery packs to be replaced with battlemech-grade fusion engines. Now that the war was over and Oruga had bought out his Gundam due to meritorious service, the engineers in the company had upgraded it to a significant degree.

The first of the Dual-Cockpit Calamity units was scheduled to be assigned to Oruga when next he rotated through the Proving Grounds. That would give him seating for the whole family, with himself in main control, Flay in the backseat, and Beatrice and Kelsie on the forward jumpseats.

"This is a good change, even if unexpected," Oruga consoled her. "We're only ten years ahead of schedule for mass migrations to this planet and Keid."

"Only ten years," Flay rolled her eyes. "I'm already up to my ass in complaints from the budget office on how this change of plans is putting a hammering on the bank accounts."

"Bean counters," Oruga grumped. "Can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em."

"Be nice, husband of mine," Flay poked his leg. "Those bean counters are the pukes that make the SOG financially workable."

"After that fun we had with Blue Cosmos on Keid last year, I would have figured the necessity of the SOG was self-evident," Oruga pointed out. "And if you're going to tell me that they seriously considered letting BC have their way with our personnel, you need to replace every mother's son's of those bitches that even breathed that in your presence."

"Oh, no worries there, it was never brought up that we would let BC off the hook or try to bribe them to give up the hostages." Flay sighed. "No, the first option on the table was the SOG, and the results speak for themselves." The hostage situation has been resolved by Coby's Team the night of the incident's start, the firefight had been fast and furious and left 12 BC terrorists in bodybags, with only one injury among the hostages (a kneecap shot to a secretary that nanomedicine had quickly repaired). The entry team suffered two casualties, Corporate Officer Kernes (a new hand) had been killed in crossfire and Mechwarrior Xene Amantea had been paralyzed by a rifle round. Xene had quickly opted for a nanomachine and cybernetic augmentation to her spinal column to undo the damage and enhance her back and fine motor control, and Allster's medical department delivered. She had been paralyzed in combat in April; by August, she was back in the cockpit and back on the entry team.

"Good, can't let the fucksticks off easy when they crop up," Oruga said as they approached the spaceport. "Time to call the ground tower."

"Definitely, don't need a fine for being out of contact with movement control," Flay said.

Oruga dialed in a frequency from a code sheet he had on his console. "Movement Control, Calamity One, requesting movement instructions to ramp parking for Dropship Allster's Boxcar," he requested on the ramp frequency.

"Calamity One, Movement Control, be advised that Allster's Boxcar has been delayed in the landing pattern due to a scheduling foul-up. You have a 90-minute wait for arrival, pilot."

"Copy all, where do you want me to hold?" Oruga asked.

"You can park it on the west side of the fuel tank farm, we'll give you a heads-up when your ship is inbound," the Movement Controller ordered.

"Will do, MC. I'm going to go offline and shut down in the interim, give me a page on the radio when our bird is cookin' down."

"MC rogers your last, enjoy your downtime pilot. MC is clear on this channel."

Oruga took 90 seconds to move over to the area of the fuel farm and parked on the open fuel truck parking spots that were not at hazard of being used anytime soon. Halbiero Spaceport was easily the busiest of the spaceports on Procyon so far, and the fuel trucks were constantly on the move to gas up the myriad aircraft, aerospace, shuttles, and dropships that landed here on a routine basis. Once in place, Oruga shut his entire system down except for the radio, and he locked it in receive only mode with the click of a switch and the drop of a safety cover.

"90 minutes, and I've had enough of work or work-like activities for now," Flay commented.

"We'll be pulling a double with the incoming staff and organization work to be done. And then we need to be on the Allster's Boxcar to head back home."

"Nope, not this round, next round we're headed home. That's another 60+ days into the future," Flay pointed out. Procyon was not the same classification of star as Sol (the Sun by common name on Terra), since it was a much larger star and Procyon II (the second planet orbiting the star was the habitable one) was 14.94 days flight time from the Zenith or Nadir jump points. So, for a Dropship, it would take over two weeks to go from the planet to the Jumpship, then take a day to dock and conduct the jump, then undock on the far side of the jump, and would need roughly 7 days to get to Home Terra. When on planet, the ship would have to be serviced and loaded for the trip, which usually took about a week on the ground. Then reverse the routine: 7 days to the jump point, a day to dock and jump and undock, then another effective 15 days back to Procyon. Round-trip total: 52 days in normal operations tempo that maximized safety and efficiency.

The pace would pick up a bit with the expansion of jumpships and dropships throughout the cosmos, but that happy state of reality would be another hundred years into the future, she figured. For now, Allster had two of its own Dropships (with four more on order), but were at the mercy of contract Jumpship service.

"So, how to kill 90 minutes…" Flay commented slyly.

"Well, I can think of a few ideas," Oruga said. He had one light on in the cockpit, which wasn't enough to do paperwork by. "What's on your mind, my love?"

"Well, we've done three, and I've always wanted to go for more, partly because my sister and I didn't get along too well and I want to make sure that doesn't happen in my sons and daughters, and partly because Master Executor Tomoe's words still haunt me."

"Which are we talking about?" Oruga asked, given that he was privy to more than a few pieces of wisdom from the now-departed Master Executor.

" 'Only a failure of effort can doom the cause going forward'. Blue Cosmos always pushed the 'less is more' schtick, which has no value in the consideration of our future."

"And Blue Cosmos will come back for another shot at the title," Oruga pointed out. "Won't be in our lifetime, if they get out of the 'breaking rocks with bronze tools' stage before I retire, it'd be a miracle." He was grossly understating their starting point, but the premise held.

"I want to make sure we're doing this right going forward, in business, in love, in preparations, and in numbers. Question is, are you willing?" Flay asked.

"I've never not been willing," Oruga said defensively, given that her tone was borderline challenging to the Gundam Pilot. "I just thought, well, you'd call it at three so I've not been pushing my luck."

"Oh, well, no," Flay said before she popped her harness and leaned over to give her husband a kiss. "I'm not out of the game yet, love, and it's been four years since our last one." Brion Sabnak was just entering preschool, which was a tumultuous time for the family, doubly so that Flay and Oruga had been out on other worlds working on the expansion of cross-planetary interests and were not at home as much as they wanted to be.

"That settles it. We're both kinda crazy perverts for different reasons," he said with a chuckle that they shared for over a minute.

"Well, I guess the next question is, can I get up on you in that seat in my favorite fashion?" Flay asked. Her hand wandered down his side to his leg, testing the gap between the outside of his thigh and the side of his command couch. It only barely fit down between the side of his console and his leg. "Guess not. Ideas?"

"Different direction. Lap ride time."

"You still have a tube of alcohol cleaning wipes in here for after we're done?" Flay asked as she started working her way out of her jumpsuit, while Oruga did the same.

-x-x-x-

(20 December CE 93, 0900 Hours UTC)
(Orbital Manufacturing Station Aesir, L4 Colony Area, Sol III (Home Terra))
(20 years after the end of the second war)

"So this is what we've been financing at massive expense and resource outlay," Flay said with an approving nod. She had not yet set foot into one of the four Aesir-class Shipyard Stations, but now that she had to see her daughter to her new post, it was as good a time as any for a tour.

"This is different," Kelsie said after she passed over the warning lines on the ground for transition to gravity. Left and right of the passenger terminal were windows looking out into space, and the view was excellent of the colonies at L4. "And stunning. Always wanted to live on a space station or in a colony."

"And now's the chance," Flay said. "You'll be learning the art of Jump Core Engineering from an old friend of mine, and finish up your schooling here on the station."

Whence fully clear of the docking bay, the station's Gravitic Lattice had taken hold of the mother and daughter and they walked down the main arrival corridor in the same way as if they had been standing on the ground on earth. The travel was short, though, before they made it to the security post for the arrival docks. "Identification and destination, please," the rather-bored security guard said.

"Flay Allster and Kelsie Allster to speak to Director Brennan," Flay presented her old and rather worn company ID, Kelsie presented her much newer ID.

The name caught his attention, even if he did not recognize her by sight. A scan of the multi-phase barcode for her ID confirmed it was indeed Flay Allster, CEO of Allster Enterprises. "Aye, 'am, allow me to give the Director a — "

"Already here, Willie-Bob," an approaching voice said. "I'll take it from here."

"Aye-aye. Your IDs, ma'am, miss?" the security guard returned them promptly.

"Temple, it has been long," Flay and the Director had a quick hug. "How're you doing?"

"Five years since I set foot on a planet's surface, but no big deal. Come," Director Temple Miska Brennan waved them toward the corridors into the station and out of the line of other disembarking personnel. They were quick to turn off into a waiting area for embarkation and disembarkation that was just around the corner from the security desk. "And welcome to you, Kelsie."

"Temple!" Kelsie's embrace was a bit more energetic than her mother's hug. "Last I saw you, I was in fifth grade."

"Hai, been a few years, young one." All seven of the Allster children had spent time around the various company facilities and had traveled to the other worlds that Allster Enterprises had possessions on, and of the seven, Kelsie was easily the frontrunner in the daughters of Allster for company work — though not the front-runner for a command position. "Welcome to Station Aesir."

"Already can tell this is going to be an interesting start," Kelsie said. "Now, when mom said I'd be studying Jump Core Engineering, did she mean under you?"

"Yes, that is exactly what she meant," Temple guided the younger Allster over to a chair in the lobby; Flay took a seat between the two. "After reviewing the testing scores of all the graduating Actaeon Academy grads, yours was in the top five for naval and aerospace. The other four were sniped by Actaeon for their projects, can't fault them there, but I made sure that they didn't grab you before I could."

"Thank you for that," Kelsie said. "Actaeon had made me a couple offers before graduation, and while they are technically in the company, was hoping to work under the parent company. And better still that it's under a family friend."

"Don't expect any breaks, though," Flay cautioned her daughter. "One thing I learned when working in space warships, they're unforgiving ships in unforgiving environments. It has to be done right, same with Jumpships."

"More so with Jumpships," Temple built on the CEO's lesson. "There's not much room for error in Jump Core Engineering, but you've got the aptitude for it. Starting tomorrow, we're going to get you in and working on the first Jumpship for the company while I train you how to engineer the core and control systems."

"Understood, ma'am!" Kelsie said. Flay was thankful that, even despite her occasionally-prolonged absences, her children were turning out better than herself or her sister had. It helped that neither parent was a drug addict, which Flay could never discuss about her parents but was the truth. It also helped that Oruga had been downchecked by the medical department some years ago and had to give up Mobile Suit piloting, so he was now at home more often than not and was a very doting father. Investigation was still ongoing as to what was starting to ail him before he even turned forty.

"This is a salaried posting, ten-hour days, six days a week. Commute time is about a minute from your quarters to your office." Both daughter and mother had a chuckle about that tidbit, given the driving situation in downtown Memphis was atrocious. "Sundays are shut-down days for the full facility except for critical station personnel. We get a good data feed from the networks, but commercial entities up here are kinda thin."

"Dating scene?" Kelsie asked.

Temple had to think about that one for a moment. "Your age bracket? I won't say thin, but not super-plentiful, either. You may have to grab a shuttle over to Mendel or one of the habitat colonies to expand the horizon."

"I won't say no, but I will say watch your step, daughter of mine," Flay said with complete gravity. "It took your father and I a few years to settle on it. Make sure you go where you want, the rest will follow."

"And done right, it will keep going," Temple added onto Flay's advice. "Pepe told me to tell you 'hello' but he's busy over on Station Frigga and can't visit."

"Work wins," Flay acknowledged.

"Work is also the leading cause of interference in work," Temple pointed out to her CO.

"Too true." Flay sighed, then opened her mouth to say something else, only to be interrupted by Temple's tablet computer beeping at its user. "Meeting notice?" Flay asked, since she recognized the alert tone.

"Hai, 0930 staff meeting for the Jump Core Team. You'll need to be in on that tomorrow, Kelsie."

"When's my start time?" Kelsie asked.

Temple already had that planned out for the apprentice Jump Core Engineer. "Report to my office tomorrow 0800, we'll go over everything before the 0930 staff meeting. For now, get yourself settled in and rested, tomorrow is going to be long and stressful. First days up here in the Shipyards always are."

"I'll see her to quarters, Temple, you have a division to run," Flay said.

"Memorized the layout of the crew quarters?" Temple asked.

"Yes, exactly so," Flay said. In truth, she had memorized the layout of the station to a degree, it was all fairly easy to understand since it had been designed by the Extended trooper sitting across from her, first as a Monitor Shipyard, and with a couple upgrades, now as a Jumpship Shipyard.

"Then I'll leave you to it. I'll come grab you two for lunch." Without any further circumstance, Temple was out the door.

"Well, let's get your quarters set up and ready, love," Flay said.

"Love to," Kelsie stood up and offered her mother a hand up.

"I'm not that old, not yet," Flay said, but still took the hand. She didn't know that it was a ruse to pull her into an embrace. "Huh?" Flay asked after she was hugged, but still returned it.

"I know you weren't home as much as you wanted, but I don't hold it against you or father. You did what the family business required."

"And one of you will have to take over some day," Flay pointed out. "Not sure who gets the top spot, yet, but it will happen eventually."

"I don't want it, I can say that right now," Kelsie said. "If I like this direction, I may just become a master shipwright."

-x-x-x-

(4 April CE 123, 1800 Hours Local (UTC-7))
(Allster Family Mountain Ranch (Formerly N-Bar Ranch), Montana, old United States territory)
(Coords: 46°51'15.15"N, 108°56'18.85"W)
(50 years after the end of the second war)

This time around, the transition to the next generation of the family did not require any legal wrangling or a forcible takeover. There was one clear winner amongst her seven children as to who would take over the business and take it farther out into the stars, following along with Mendel as it moved farther into the deep reaches of space.

Kelsie was not the chosen one. She was an excellent manager, certainly, and had a nose for business, but she was much more the technical operator and easily earned her posting as Master Shipwright for the company. Her personal record was 55 Jumpships built from start to finish, with seven of those hulls still in service to Allster Enterprises.

Beatrice, likewise, was not in the running for the post. She had quickly taken to the medical field and was the Head Nurse at Mountain Home Extended Medical Center. She had her own home away from the family spread, and six children of her own.

Brion was definitely off the list, due to being a Galaxy Commander of Gundam Pilots and on the shortlist for a Century Commander posting. There was some noise made about him riding on his father's name, but none of that noise was made by anybody in a serious position to judge his merits; he came up through the ranks the hard way, earned his placements through legitimate (and difficult) Trials of Position, and was a very serious operator in a military full of them.

Marlene took herself off the list out of deference to her younger sister, Christina. Marlene was decent in a managerial position, but Christina was far and beyond better as both a figurehead and a chief executive officer. Flay agreed on both accounts, and the two had gone through all the necessary steps to transfer command over to Christina Mae Allster in the weeks prior. Marlene, to make sure she gave the younger sister a clear field and no conflicts of command, had taken a board position with a petrochemical outfit for the USSA and was most often out in the worlds, supervising the setup of new chemical and refining plants. Tonight was a rare night, though, in that Marlene was home with the rest of the family for the send-off.

The twins, Lambert and Quentin, were also out of the running due to their positions — Lambert had earned his way into Mendel's Mobile Armor forces and was quite happy piloting a Dendrobium for the Empire. Quentin had gone the opposite direction, medical, and held the position of practicing geneticist for Lodonia. The twins were the last of Flay's children, and along with Beatrice and Brion were her promise to the family (and the world) that she would give her family to come all the advantage she could. The youngest of the lot, nonetheless they were already moving in their own direction and more the better for it.

"I had prepared a speech for this, but no," Christina said. "We've both done formal speeches this week to finalize the retirement in the company, and nobody wants to hear a rehash of that again."

"Thank you, Aunt Christina," the eldest daughter of Beatrice answered.

"Agreed, I've done enough and heard enough," Flay said.

"So, I'm going to keep this short and worthwhile." Christina sighed. "Looking back at the family history, we almost didn't come to be. Our Matriarch had a wildly misspent youth in the two wars, almost got blown up more than a few times, almost got shot on ground actions, delved into enemy facilities as a member of an entry team, operator on a big target like the Dominion, crew on the Archangel during the first war which ZAFT really had a killboner for, and that was before you took over the company. Even not in a shooting war, you still had six close scrapes in your years of the chairmanship, including a Blue Cosmos Zero Squad while pregnant with Lambert and Quintin. Just about a textbook case of 'anything that can go wrong, I'm going to ask for it to go wrong'."

"Won't deny that I got into a few nasty ones," Flay acknowledged the point. "Asking for it, well, I guess I can't deny that one, either."

"You did volunteer, multiple times, mother," Brion pointed out. He had seen the enlistment records, both EA and Mendel, so there was no room for wordplay on that one.

"And for damn good reason, I might add," Flay commented. "First time I was chasing a guy and chasing vengeance. Terrible idea on both counts. Second time I was looking to get out of Blue Cosmos. Better idea, far better results."

"Well, it worked out in the end, in one of those 'cosmic accident, film at eleven' kind of ways. And it started with a literal Cosmic Accident, then evolved into a running quest to escape Blue Cosmos and LOGOS, and then the real clincher. You rescued the family business and family ranch from the sister and cousins, and in the process won the hand of an awesome guy and restarted the family. A family, I might add, that almost ended with your generation."

"Some days I wonder if my sister ever decided to give up on the 'zero population growth' kick, or if she bought into it even after going native on Blue Terra," Flay acknowledged the point, without realizing that she was playing more-or-less into Christina's plan for the speech.

"Doesn't matter, they're not here," Christina said. "We are. All of us. Three generations of Allster, cleaned up, shined up, building the business and making the name louder with each passing decade."

"And possibly headed for a fourth," Kelsie's eldest son said. Flay considered that he was easily old enough to be headed in that direction, but was definitely not going with the pace that she had done so in the past.

"And we owe it all to the one lady of the family who was brave enough to try, lucky enough to survive, and persistent enough to pick up even after the shit hit the fan and some less-than-savory relatives tried stealing it all," Christina said. "So, here's to the Matriarch of the family, fifty years of building back better than ever, at home, at work, and now in the stars. Kampai!"

Flay joined in the salute as well, but wildly wished that Oruga had survived to be here for it as well. He had been downchecked at 41, debilitated by 44 and dead at 45 because of a chemical that Murutha Azrael had ordered given to the three Gundam Pilots Oruga, Shani, and Clotho. The longest surviving of them had been Clotho at 47, and Flay had been to all three of the funerals. Thankfully, Mendel had pulled all research into the chemical used on them, as it was considered too risky long-term even if it could be cleaned up or useful in some other context.

Despite the instant wave of sadness, though, she stood up after the salute and drained her wineglass in one quaff, a quick reminder that theory Matriarch had done a few hard drinks in hard times and good times now past. "Thank you for the benediction, daughter of mine, but I'd like to remind you all that I'm retiring, I'm not dead yet and don't intend to check out for some time still." The reminder drew chuckles from everyone at the table and the staff that was listening in as well. "Only thing I would like to add to it is a story I think I've properly told maybe four persons total, and three of them are dead."

"Ooh, spooky, Grandma," Quentin's younger son (of two sons and a daughter) said.

"Back when I was young and very certifiably crazy, the guy I was chasing before I met Oruga, we had lost contact with each other due to the nature of the war. We met again by accident in the interim period between the wars, and we went over what happened to us after we lost contact and what we were doing at that time. Dude had an attitude, and he had most of the skills to back it up. Still, before the second war broke out, I promised him I'd help create a new future for the world. As I said in that discussion: 'Keep your innocence, Kira, what's left of it; the world needs it. We tainted few, we ancient hands and old glorious Empires of days past, we will do the rest, and then the rest yours. That is my debt.' And I look at this table, six children, over two dozen grandchildren, and maybe some great-grandchildren to come in a few years, then you look out the window at a country that had done better in the past 50 years than in the prior 200, I think it is safe to say we have done the rest, and paid the debts of old, and we've built the future. Whether or not Kira picked up the gauntlet or not, I don't know. Last time I spoke to him was early in '73, and I've not been too interested to go looking."

"I hope you're going to tell us the rest of that story, mother," Kelsie said. "That sounds way too juicy to leave partially on the table."

Flay sighed. We've built a good future, Oruga, damn shame you couldn't be here to share it. I just hope it stays that way. "Well, the full-length version of this story starts back when I was in high school, '71…"


Author's Chapter Afterword:

This one was a bit of a wild ride for me, working out the sight and progression of the future for Flay and Oruga in a few blurbs and sections and pieced together from notes I had assembled for the continuation of the Allster in Section 3. The dice roll interesting, today, and things worked out very well for the Allster family in the long run, so you can expect that going forward into the future, they will make a niche for themselves just as much.

You read that first section correctly. There will be a third Jokers Wild story, and it will be a tour de force operating on a ballistic curve and with a bigass rocket motor to drive it forward. I've been writing it over the summer as a way to force myself to put ideas on paper and keep writing, and once I finish my upcoming 2022 Christmas present (ho ho ho or har har har, take your pick), I'm going to delve into polishing those story sections up and posting them early in '23. The Gods only know we're headed for a shit year next year, so I'm looking to spread some cheer and insanity in the new year for all the good little readers out there in the box.

Not much else to say about the chapter. This is pretty much the wrap-up for the Jokers Wild; I have two side-stories to work out still, but I'm not going to delay my mainline work for it. Also will be continuing on MMC 2 and AAA (the latter being a big goal of mine), and I'm considering just trucking forward on Sigma because it seems to be a fairly popular read even despite the issues it has. I've got options and since this is crap weather season, i've got time to write and motivation to do so. Plenty of stress to burn off from work and all that.

I would like to thank all of my readers who have stuck with me over the years, and thank you all who have read to this point. I know I've had some bad takes over the years, and I've pushed a few buttons, and this classification of crossover isn't for everyone, but for those who have enjoyed it, I am glad to have been able to bring some cheer to you over the course.

Stay tuned for further, Task Force Jokers Wild will be back for another sortie!


Review Replies: Three replies on Chapter 14, and they are good ones.

Sajuuk: Oh, lol, you don't get to see much in the way of research or independent expansion for Allster Enterprises, yet, but that will definitely come into play in the next Joker's Wild. I can tell you already that research and new unit design are a very big factor in the next story, as well as a very loud echo from this chapter of DFA being one of the main driving points for JW3. Hope you're still reading, because it will be coming early next year!

Just-A-Crazy-Man: Thank you good sir for the accolades!

Fireminer: Reviews like yours are one of my major motivating factors to keep writing, so much obliged for staying on!

A Protomech against a Mass-Pro MS is more often than not going to go to the MS because while they are under-armored and under-gunned compared to a Battlemech or Aerofighter, the same can't be said in comparison to a Protomech or Battle Armor. Now, that said, if a protomech ambushed a MS in close, the odds lean toward the Protomech, and if you're talking a point of Protomechs and not just a 1v1, again it leans toward the Protomechs. The circumstances of the battle determines the victor just as much as the hardware.

Truth to tell, Magi forces are mostly revised units, there is very little Star League hardware that is not in long-term storage awaiting issue out in the Days of Ragnarok. The newer models, better engineered units are the common deploy forces, older Star League relics are rarely seen in common use outside of collector's clubs, family 'mech stables, or one-off units that the Quartermasters can't seem to be rid of. That said, I could always do some revised and up-gunned Star League units…

Thank you all for the reviews! This one may be done, but the action has not stopped yet!


The Gripe Sheet: No complaints for my prior chapter. Much thanks to my tireless Beta Reader Takeshi Yamato for hanging in there and keeping my typing clean.


Footnotes:

(1): Jacket refers to a soldier's combat record and personnel files.

(2): Residential Domicile, a technical term for a private residential property. 'RD' is sometimes used as shorthand for a civilian house.