Author's Notes: I'd like to apologize for not updating this as fast as I promised. The chapter was long finished, but it was more a matter of actually getting around to doing fanfic related stuff and updating. Not like anyone reads this anyways. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Kido Senshi Gundam SEED is the property of Bandai Co. and its American subsidiary companies, as well as that of Tomino Yoshiyuki & SUNRISE.
Mobile Suit Gundam SEED: Fog of War Phase 2: Departure of the Innocent
That day was filled with preparations on all sides. Saito Nagisa navigated corridors of Government Terminus, hitching a ride in Kunio's groundcar—which turned out to be his, his graduation present, instead of his parents'—and spent most of the day in lines. He went into town, got a message patch to a branch bank where his former trust was established, and transferred his account to a new bank based in PLANT's Aprilius 1. His hefty bank account was the result of a trust fund left behind by his parents for him to complete college studies as well as help him on his way to a career. It would be more than enough to continue living off of until he enlisted, it certainly was more than what Nagisa needed when he'd been working as an office tech in Heliopolis' Morgenrater support office.
Wearing a suit he bought at a shopping district, he watched sullenly as the billboard video-news began to inform him and the other pedestrians of the day's events. Among them was Siegel Klein's daughter's impending memorial for the Junius 7 colony, which was now drifting in a stable Earth orbit, resting in millions of pieces, a sad irony not lost on the young Saito. Ms. Klein didn't seem fazed that Junius 7's remains were now in 'enemy territory'.
All the while, he noted that most people went about their lives as if nothing was wrong. Of course, there was some anxiety, all to be expected, but for the most part, life was tranquil and normal, and the overwhelming majorities were more focused on their work than they were on outside affairs. He knew it hadn't always been that way, and he vividly recalled watching clips of people with protest slogans such as 'Kill the patch worker', "Death to All Coordinators', 'for a blue and pure world' and the like. He pushed those thoughts away and focused on the job at hand, which was currently finding mass transit back to the Mimura house—his house.
Without exception, people treated him quite kindly. They were all very normal, accommodating, and exceedingly polite. Saito was well aware that they didn't even suspect that he wasn't one of 'them', and he didn't try to personally make the distinction that they were 'them', so to speak. Gradually, he was allowing his prior laissez-faire mentality to return.
When he got home, he found the legal papers waiting for him. As he was eighteen, and over majority by PLANT law, he needed to sign the papers as well, giving 'permission' for Mimura Hyosuke and Mimura Satomi to adopt him. It was an unusual, but not unheard of practice. As soon as the papers were filed, his legal name would changed to Mimura Nagisa, born in Aprilius 1 space colony. That same week he had a notarized copy of his new birth certificate. Now he was legitimate. There was only one issue now, and it was the most precarious of all.
True to his word, Hyosuke produced the ZAFT mobile suit OS—taken from a ZGMF-1017 GiNN—conveniently stored on a high-density data disc, ready for cracking and breaking. This was the job that would occupy him now, as he spent the next week and a half—with Hyosuke, Kunio, and Lyles looking in on him for occasional assistance—trying to piece together an operating system that he could use as well as any Coordinator could use the standard OS. It proved as daunting a task as he could have imagined, but thankfully no more so than it could have been. He was satisfied that he could probably achieve his goal.
Sitting at the computer terminal arranged for him in what once was the guest room but now was his bedroom, the would-be pilot smiled at his own fuzzy reflection in the darkened LCD screen. It was almost two weeks now, and Kunio and Lyles had settled their affairs, ready to enlist with ZAFT. News had gotten to him that Rakusu Klein went missing some days before, when she went with a civilian ship, the Silverwind, to visit Junius 7. Somehow, Nagisa wasn't surprised that something like that transpired; it was the reason he hadn't opted to go find transport to Earth's surface, and by extension, the Orb Homeland. He much rather preferred to be in control of his own destiny, as opposed to little more than a moving target for both sides of the conflict.
It was almost nightfall, and the house was quiet. Even Nagisa didn't stir now, his task completed after many a sleepless night. With the aid of his friends, he was able to put it together, though they didn't know quite yet. They would soon enough, and he was in no real hurry to announce it; Kunio knew where to find him.
There were a lot of things on his mind, the least of which was that soon he would be training to become a soldier, to go out and fight a war. The reality of it seemed so close at hand, yet in a sense utterly distant and hard to take. But it was a decision he made, one he could be proud of, or at the very least say he had the guts to do. There came a certain pleasure with taking charge of one's own existence, and Nagisa felt it was far too long since he'd experienced that sensation of self-possession and direction. There was also the issue of his new family, but that was almost secondary; he was used to Kunio and his mother, and felt a great deal of respect for Mr. Mimura, his new 'father'. There was no reason he should have felt out of place, and so he didn't. To him, looking back on the recent change, it appeared as a matter of course, though he didn't dare take it for granted.
As if on cue, there was a soft knock at the door to his sparsely furnished bedroom. The room was spartan not because of ill hospitality, but rather because Nagisa was accustomed to living simply. Anything extravagant was really beyond him now, even though he grew up in an affluent environment. Sometimes, Saito would wonder if it was because of his upbringing that he shunned amenities. Even his clothing was of an unsophisticated cut and style. It could have been said that he did the absolute minimum to maintain appearances, to pass for what he was supposed to be. Now that he was supposed to be something he wasn't though, his views on that had changed.
"It's open, come on in." The young man uttered, leaning back in the chair.
Into the quiet room stepped Kunio and his father, both of whom seemed rather intense at the moment. He had a clue as to why, but he didn't press it. If there was something they wanted to say or reveal, they would in due time. The younger of the two came to stand at the side of the desk and gave him a nod.
"Taking a break? You've been at it for days." Kunio said worriedly, his haphazard mop of dark brown and black hair bobbing with every word.
"Actually," Nagisa offered a small, tentative smile. "I'm done."
He couldn't see him without looking over his shoulder, but Nagisa imagined the Colonel was lifting an eyebrow or something to that extent. "That was fast work. Are you sure it will work?"
"I won't be sure until it comes time to pop the new OS into an MS and take it for a spin." He warned at length, backing the chair up so he could look at both his adoptive brother and father. For once, Hyosuke was wearing civilian clothing. His call to duty had been temporarily postponed, in lieu of a few meetings with the Council, and an impending summons for Admiral La Cruise, who was going to be taken to task for the events in Heliopolis. "But…I'm confident."
"It's definitely an achievement," Hyosuke said with a grunt.
Nagisa shrugged. "Shouldn't be too surprising. It's just a computer program really. I think anyone with the education and background could have put it together, given time. The fact that I put it together doesn't say much."
"I'm not an engineer, but I think Morgenrater would probably disagree." Hyosuke snorted, and he could see Kunio was fairly amused. "They've been having many problems."
"Yes, well, they don't have access to a working OS." Nagisa countered, unwilling to take credit for success. He stood as to stretch his aching legs, knees popping softly. "There isn't really any substantial reason why a Natural can't pilot a mobile suit, so what I did was just modify the existing OS, rewrote its mobile structure a little, and adjusted several variables to compensate for my own shortcomings. I'll be able to refine it in the field as time goes on. Hell, since I know how the system works now, I could probably ad hoc it for a while until I perfect the new OS."
"Though…" Kunio wasn't as optimistic, and it showed in his tone and bearing, as he sat at the edge of the desk. "How are you going to hide it? I don't think they'd ignore that an MS' OS was overwritten when giving it maintenance."
Nagisa grinned. "Thought of that. I'm going to hide it in the computer core, the way old computers could run two different household OS systems. An MS' OS is actually somewhat smaller in size, so I can probably ditch it, run it on start-up right from the second time I use it. When the techs boot it up, they'll just get the normal system."
"Old tricks are the best tricks." Kunio confirmed with a nod. As a fellow engineering and computer science student, he knew his own fair share of old gimmicks. By his estimation, Nagisa was definitely on the money. Since no one would be looking for that sort of problem, no one would bother to check for amateur ruses. He likened it to how politicians sometimes admit to small trespasses to build trust while they backstab the people with bigger trespasses, but he didn't say that aloud. The young coordinator knew better than that.
"So." Nagisa crossed his arms, looking at Kunio and his father, a more sober note to his voice, "Tomorrow."
"Yeah. Hard to believe, isn't it?" Kunio looked skyward wistfully. He honestly didn't want to be in the military, but he felt it was his responsibility now, not only to uphold tradition, but also to do something about the situation. He'd complained and bellyached until now about the war, and realized that unless he took a place in the ranks, he was somewhat unable to offer any relevant criticism or effect change. Sure, a grunt MS pilot couldn't do much, but as things were turning out, every bit helped. "Lyles is ready too."
"Good," said Mimura Hyosuke, still standing. He put a hand on each teen's shoulder, smiling broadly. He wasn't without worry; no parent wanted to see their children go off to war, but Satoshi was already fighting, and it seemed to him to be a matter of time before his youngest son fell in too. It made him proud, to know that his two sons—no, three sons, he reminded himself ruefully—were turning out to be stewards of power for the people, an idea impressed upon him by his own father, so many years before. As a third-generation Coordinator, he knew better than most the importance of tradition and ideals. In turn, he also knew the limits they had. "Try and come back in one piece. I'll put in my word with Personnel and Command to see that you boys get a good assignment and CO. But it will depend on you to prove yourselves during training."
The two young men were in agreement with their patriarch, much more somber than before. They didn't dare let their pent up frustration and enthusiasm to go forward show; no, they would save that.
We'll save it for the enemy, thought Nagisa sordidly, taken by his own initiative and ardor. And send a message they won't soon forget.
There's an old saying amongst those who've dealt with warfare and politics, an oftentimes controversial expression, but one which has rang true more often than not: the more you fight and more you kill, the more fighters and killers you create to take their place.
In the wake of the Bloody Valentine and Heliopolis, the same could be said about Lyles Doyle, Mimura Kunio, and the erstwhile Saito—Mimura—Nagisa.
The next day the trio met in the residential district, for a last hurrah of civilian life before becoming full-time soldiers-in-training. It wasn't anything extravagant, but they would remember it for the company they kept. Though they didn't talk about it, there was a distinct possibility that one or none of them might not make it back to living the good life of a well-to-do civilian. That didn't stop them or dampen their enthusiasm though. With pure hearts full of hope for the future, of eagerness to make a difference, they were already willing to pay the ultimate price. However, they didn't want to dwell on that, so instead they passed each other conspirators' glances as they stole looks at some girls their age, walking about the malls, or just going about their daily lives. None of them had girlfriends to say goodbye to, and truth be told, they were privately glad. There would be no shed tears for the three as they marched off to the beat of ZAFT's unseen drummer-boy, save for those of one Mimura Satomi, who, in her heart of hearts, felt that she was losing yet more children to the fracas that was human nature. But she was proud, no doubt. They all were.
Standing about, loitering in front of a café, they sipped some drinks in the overcast day, not far from the 'downtown' section of this end of the colony. With travel bags with meager personal belongings now packed, ready for barracks life, they exchanged jokes, jibes, and juvenile ideas about life, still reveling in their age; Kunio and Nagisa were eighteen, and Doyle, the 'senior' of the group a ripe twenty-one.
Because Doyle just had to, they found a public computer kiosk to check for any updates about Rakusu Klein. There was a brief blurb that the military was going to investigate, but of course no details were released. They all assumed Asuran Zara, the raven-haired ace and 'hero' of PLANT would find her, somehow. Nagisa was unconcerned; it wasn't his issue. He never quite understood people and their obsession for the famous and powerful. The problem he felt with them was that they were all too human, Coordinators notwithstanding.
As they walked to Government Terminus, each reflected on their reasons for going to enlist. Why do people join the ZAFT military? Probably for the same reasons people have been enlisting for service since the time of the great Mesopotamian, Roman, Japanese, Chinese, and Greek armies: adventure, patriotism, pay, and the opportunity to make one's name and living. It was a prospect for seeing the world, for getting to know new and strange places, and to take the fight to those who would to the same to them. Looking back on it at the end of their training, they would probably admit to themselves the naiveté of their decision to enlist, but likely not regret it.
The rate of enlistment in the youth bracket of sixteen to twenty-two was rather astounding in the case of the PLANT colonies. With a very low birthrate, and a smaller population than the Earth by far, it meant that a disproportionate amount of Coordinator youth was becoming integrated into the military's command structure. The numbers were twenty-five percent—fully a quarter—of that category, if not more. Indeed, trying times seemed to bring out the best and worst in people of all sorts, so the recruiting officer downtown was hardly surprised to see the three young men, who'd called ahead for an appointment and interview, each processed separately by a different recruiter.
"Name?" The male recruiter asked, someone about Doyle's age, a man of indeterminate race.
"Mimura, Kunio Toshiro." Kunio said confidently, enunciating each syllable properly as best he could.
"Date of birth?"
"One-fourteen-fifty-two." He was almost on autopilot, and he knew that the recruiter was probably satisfied that his replies were as spitfire as the questions.
In another room, Lyles swallowed, an inkling of what lay ahead hitting home once again, not for the first time that day. The recruiter—a girl—kept a neutral face. "Blood type?"
"B positive." He answered coolly. To distract himself from the sudden, unwarranted butterflies in his stomach, he focused on the young woman's pretty face. She's not half bad…he thought with amusement.
"Place of birth?" Another recruiter, also a woman, asked Nagisa.
Nagisa didn't hesitate, having practiced his responses many times, with his adoptive father himself drilling him. "Aprilius 1."
"Mother's maiden name?"
He had to think hard to remember that—he sometimes forgot his birth mother's maiden name—but the answer came in a naturally short interval. "Kikawa."
"Alright. Your identity and enlistment information matches the information in the filed application. You'll proceed this evening to this building later for swearing in and transport to training facilities." The young woman—a Private, Second Class, said sharply, staring him down with her wonderfully pale green eyes. She extended a hand. "Welcome to the Zodiac Alliance of Freedom Treaty's Armed Forces, Cadet Mimura."
With genuine happiness and satisfaction, he shook the Private's hand, and was surprised that the girl pumped it confidently. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She waggled her head politely. "By the way, you're allowed one small duffel's worth of personal items not including toiletries and a change of civilian clothes. Don't be late, trust me, they hate late recruits."
Nagisa raised an eyebrow, but didn't debate the issue. He thanked the woman again and exited the booth. He was met promptly by Lyles, and after a moment, Kunio. They each smiled, unable to form words to accurately describe their feelings, and went for the door. As they still had some time to kill, they ate some lunch, got caught a movie—a cheesy anime movie which didn't live up to the series which spawned it—and generally caroused until the appointed time came.
On the way, Lyles sighed contentedly. "I'm beginning to like military life already! Did you see that girl in my booth?"
"Here we go…" Kunio muttered with exasperation, though kind of glad things had a tint of normalcy still. If Lyles was still capable of ogling the opposite gender with any gusto, then they were still safe and sound.
"The private who interviewed me wasn't bad looking." Nagisa said after consideration.
Lyles put an arm around his friend, ruffling Kunio's hair. "What about you, Kun-kun?"
How he despised that nickname! Well, he figured, it was just one more link to his real life. "Mine was a guy."
The other Mimura laughed raucously, getting damned near a cough. "Poor Kun-kun."
"Oh shut up, Old Man!"
For all their debauchery, the three recruits were more than happy to be in each other's company. They wanted very much to be assigned to the same detail once training was complete, but knew that they shouldn't be surprised if that didn't happen. Kunio, who was sometimes their de facto leader, told them as much, when he inquired about the issue with the Colonel. But it was good to be in high spirits before basic training, it would give them all the more energy to take on their tasks with. It was no surprise then, when they turned up again at the recruiting office—which was actually just a Defense Committee sub office—in the auditorium for swearing in with all the glee of kids on a spending spree. Both Kunio and Doyle had blown a stupendous amount of money on good snacks and drinks the last couple of days, figuring that they wouldn't get much chance to spend their money once their lives as soldiers began. Nagisa spent his money on portable electronics.
They fell in with the other new recruits, an assorted bunch that reflected a wide-cross section of Aprilius 1's inhabitants, but none of them seemed much older than Lyles, something much to be expected. The military didn't often attract career-changers, instead picking up the human flotsam colleges and high schools generated when they graduated their students. There were both men and women, no more really than boys and girls, in an almost equal number. They talked amongst themselves animatedly, all probably feeling the same high as the three recent arrivals into the auditorium. Their banter died down however, when a military officer appeared on the elevated stage, walking in with loud footsteps.
He wasn't very imposing, considering he was a naval officer, but his uniform spoke volumes. He wore the same royal purple and black outfit of ZAFT's commander-ratings, and his boots fairly shone, glinting in the strong lighting of the auditorium. He was probably about forty, give or take a few years, and looked of western descent.
"Atten-SHUN! Recruits, listen up!" He barked, his voice surprisingly strong. If all eyes weren't on him before, they were now, and Nagisa was transfixed by the commanding aura the officer produced almost at will. Both he and his two buddies stood even taller, even more rigid than before. "I'm Commander Jeffery Gates, and I'll be overseeing you until you begin Basic Training. You're all here because you filled out an application of enlistment. Now, since all of you have met the prerequisites for that enlistment, I'll administer to you its Oath."
About forty young men and women focused in on him, and were guided through the verbal Oath, in English, and repeated after Commander Gates.
"I do solemnly swear," the commander intoned, after instructing the recruits to raise their right hand. "To uphold and defend the Constitution of the PLANT Colonies,"
"…Constitution of the PLANT colonies…" Kunio was droned, his mind less on the ritualistic oath than on what it meant. His father had taken the same oath over twenty years before, and now was a seasoned Colonel responsible for the oversight of an entire task force. He burned with pride.
"…As a member of the Zodiac Alliance of Freedom Treaty," Doyle, not to be outdone, kept his voice loud and clear, in his native English, speaking without the slight accents his two friends possessed. Idly, Lyles Doyle wondered how people on the other side of the conflict did this. Did they do the same little song and dance, dog-and-pony show as ZAFT?
For Mimura Nagisa, this oath had special meaning perhaps beyond that of his companions. To him, it was almost like how someone might feel fulfillment with taking an oath as a citizen of a new home—something he was unable to do. While adoption implied citizenship, it didn't require him to take such an oath. "To abide by its code of military justice, and defend the Colonies from all threats both foreign and domestic."
There was a brief silence as Commander Gates, weathered face and all, stared at the motley bunch of recruits. He reminded himself that even Admiral La Cruise received the same treatment, and once was a civilian, same for Patrick Zara. With a nod, he announced, "Congratulations, you are now all enlisted Cadets with the ZAFT Forces.
"I'll now brief you on what's going to happen to you. As you all know, indubitably, we're fighting a war." The commander's tone was slightly strained, despite his conditioning. "We might lose that war, or we might yet survive. But what we do know is that we're in a war for survival. The Naturals didn't know what they unleashed, but they're sure going to pay for it. We won't roll over and die."
At that, Nagisa subconsciously flinched, but apparently no one had taken notice to his adverse reaction to the reference to his 'kind'. Passively, he listened to this briefing, which for the moment sounded more like a tirade or a rally.
"As such, training time has been reduced drastically as compared to our peace-time basic training timetable. You'll learn and do in one month what we used to do to you in six." He said without feeling an ounce of pity for them, and it showed. "Most of you will become either ship's crew, mechanics, or mobile suit pilots. Some of you'll become Fleet security—Marines—but only the very best of you will be inducted into our Mobile Weapons Corps. Still others will be assigned noncombat duties that are still essential to the logistical operation of our Armed Forces. Under Chairman Klein, we've been receiving less and less funding, so that means we'll have to do more with less."
So he is a pacifist, Nagisa thought momentarily. He didn't know too much about Chairman Siegel Klein, but what he did know he found quite admirable about the elder statesman.
"At 1800 hours, you'll proceed with me to the Lancaster, a shuttle which will take you to our training facilities at Boaz. There, at Space Fortress Boaz, you'll be pretty close to the front lines while still in a training environment. I hope you've eaten already, because as a night flight, this shuttle has no meals, kiddies." This amused Gates, and he grinned accordingly. "Our transit time will be a few hours, enough to catch some shut-eye before we arrive at Boaz. Any questions?"
A tentative hand was raised in a far end of the room, and Nagisa had to crane his neck about to catch a glimpse of the speaker. At a nod from Gates, he asked, "How will we be sorted into our specialties?"
Commander Gates grunted. He nominally asked for questions, he didn't particularly like dishing out answers, but this one was at least educated. "You all filled out the enlistment application, and circled one of our divisions. You'll each be tested for admittance into the proper training programs. If we see you're better for something else, we'll just throw you in where we need you, no questions asked."
That seemed to sober some people up, as they realized that the ZAFT Military was now very much in control of nearly every aspect of their lives. They would live where they were told, eat when they were told, and fight and die in the battles they were ordered to. The prospect, to some, was undeniably daunting. Nagisa swallowed, but surprisingly, was completely unafraid. He asked for this. It would be his baptism of fire into PLANT society, proving his worth as a protector. He had no qualms with following orders. He imagined Kunio felt the same on that last bit; Colonel Mimura wasn't an easy man to be a son to, and already Nagisa could feel the weight of expectations settling on his narrow shoulders.
"If that's it, then, Dis-MISSED!"
Right on schedule, they went up the Terminus and boarded the Lancaster and after about half an hour of flight delays, set out for Boaz with a few other ships in a fleet group as escort, all with some business or reassignment at Boaz in mind. Alongside them flew at least one Nazca-class ship, its avocado-green hull illuminated by powerful running lights.
The shuttle was four seats deep on either side, so Kunio, Nagisa, and Lyles were able to sit together, along with a comely young brunette of mixed heritage named Suzuka Hayes-Sato. She sat at the end of the row, on the aisle side, and strapped in along with the three boys, proceeded to introduce herself and get acquainted with her new traveling companions.
Doyle, of course, was fast on the uptake, but kept his flattery to an unexpected minimum. Through mutual disclosure, they discovered that Suzuka was a Biology student that couldn't find much work, and her parents suggested she enlist. She was of an average background, and lived in the PLANTs all her years. The farthest out she'd been was the Moon colony, but that was only once.
Somewhat short and thin, with wavy dark brown hair pulled into twin tails, one on each side of her oval head, and striking gray eyes, she was also, of course, a Coordinator, second generation. With such a frame, she also had considerably small, slender hands. Suzuka wanted to be a logistics operations officer, a noncombat role that would guarantee good pay and relative safety, but she would do what she was asked to.
"What about you guys?" she asked in a mellow voice.
"Mobile suit pilots." The three announced in unison, and then looked at each other quizzically, before their bemusement was replaced with smirks. They would have to start learning how to answer questions separately, Doyle thought with a snort, but for now this was just fine.
The flight went by with unstoppable monotony. No one threatened the flight of dark olive-gray GiNNs that led the vanguard of the small flotilla, and there weren't any announcements over the intercom. Before long, most of the recruits and other passengers had fallen asleep, unable to do much else besides sit and look out the window to the vast emptiness of space. None of them were really fazed by the state of zero gravity within the cabin, and no one lost their supper in it either. They were space-dwellers, through and through, used to the rigors of living in a colony environment, even if null g was a rarity for some.
Nagisa felt briefly as if this were a junior high or high school class trip, sitting next to his two friends, his head leaned up against the thick Plexiglas polymer of the shuttle window. Outside, a tender ship drifted off their flank, assuming a different position soundlessly as the fleet adjusted course. Eventually, he too fell asleep.
Nagisa awoke to the sound of the ship's intercom blaring out that they were about to dock with Boaz station, and the usual spiel about keeping seated and strapped in until a full halt etcetera etcetera droned on. He spared a look to Kunio, who was sitting between him and Doyle, and then to Doyle and Suzuka, who were already having a conversation about pop culture.
When they docked, Commander Gates spoke up at the head of the cabin, his parade ground voice easily reaching even to the back, and waking not a few new cadets. "Attention, cadets. We're here at Boaz. I'll be leaving you here, but your instructors will pick you up for orientation at the military spaceport and base. We'll be offloaded by tube to the deck, so you don't have to worry if you're no good at zero-g maneuvers. That comes with training. So, to all of you, good luck and Godspeed."
As said, they were met by their first drill instructor, a stout man by the name of Gunnery Sergeant Jean-Luis Latour. They were taken to the base's cafeteria—mess hall, they learned, in military jargon—and given their identification cards and chits, as well as provided the evenly gray jumpsuits of ZAFT training recruits. Military food, as Nagisa discovered, was pretty low-rung stuff, even for PLANT, but he would live, and the sight of Kunio and Doyle wolfing down their food was encouraging enough. That was how their basic training began: uniforms, a quick instruction on the rather idiosyncratic ZAFT salute, brief orientation, and bad food.
The next month was spent in intense study and training. True to his word, Commander Gates' ZAFT propelled the recruits through an unrelenting battery of tests, courses, and exercises, physical, mental, and military. They learned basic military tactics, history, lexicography, and military justice, the laws they were all answerable to. The hours were long, and they were pulling sixteen-hour days most days, sometimes longer. Even the energetic Doyle soon grew a little worn, and by the end of the first 'determination' week, was already feeling jaded.
Kunio excelled in his training, doing well in marksmanship, academic learning, and drills. In one way or another, Nagisa believed his success could be ascribed to the presence of a military tradition in his family, something that Kunio was probably very much used to by this late date. For him though, it took a little bit of getting-used to and catching up to become accustomed to the 'hurry-up and wait' pace of military life and training. Of course, every free hour he worked on refining his OS.
At the end of the first week, Gunny Latour announced to them their preliminary scores and specialization designations. Kunio, with so far an exemplary performance in the first seven, overloaded days, was given the choice of Officer Training/Strategic Operations and Planning or Mobile Weapons. The choice was a no-brainer. Doyle qualified for the latter singularly, with no other outstanding merits, not counting a stern look from their D.I., and surprisingly, Cadet Hayes-Sato qualified for Fleet Security and Mobile Weapons.
"Not my cup of tea," she said lowly to Nagisa and the others, staring at the printout in her hands, which listed her preliminary aptitude scores, "but better than Transport Piloting." Reluctantly, she took Mobile Weapons, feeling that she definitely didn't want to become an infantrywoman.
"Mimura! The other one!" Gunnery Sergeant 'Tour de force' Latour shouted over the growing din, quickly becoming irritated at the noise. When the requested Cadet came up, he handed the young man his printout. He had a good opinion of Mimura Kunio's brother, Nagisa. He wasn't the most talented out there, by his standards, a mediocre kid in his estimation, but he had drive and guts, and was absolutely brilliant in the two things he was good with: computers and machines. He nodded to the teen. "Good work, Mimura."
Nagisa saluted, touching his fingers to his right temple vertically, as opposed to horizontally, the way other military forces saluted. He drifted away in the training hall towards his small cadre of friends in the recruiting squad. Opening the printout, he didn't even look. He couldn't look. It was like getting into college all over again. He pressed it into Lyles' hands. "Lyles, read it to me."
"Jittery, Nagisa?" the older one asked, leaning against the wall.
Nagisa nodded. "A little, yeah."
"You did fine," Kunio assured, standing erect on the deck. "You had us to help you!" He laughed a little, but then, with more seriousness, amended himself. "No, really. You're fine."
Taking this as his cue, Lyles unfolded the printout, brushed a golden bang away, and read aloud, in an obviously contrived tone. "Here be your dreadful future, Cadet Mimura Nagisa: Mechanical Logistics Support."
Both Kunio and Nagisa blanched visibly, as the latter felt the blood go straight to his toes. Mechanical. Logistics. Support. That was just basically fancy lingo for techies and mechanics—something like what he was going to do, but with less glitz and less glamour, since it was a grease-monkey job sometimes. He felt a sudden vertigo that had nothing to do with the lack of gravitational pull in the chamber.
"…And Mobile Weapons." Lyles added before Suzuka and Kunio could try and console their stricken comrade-in-arms. With a mischievous smirk, Lyles reached out and lightly punched the younger man on the shoulder. "Sorry about that. You did good."
"Thanks…" Nagisa said with a half-hearted smile. He reached forward and snatched the printout, reading it for himself. Lyles hadn't been lying; he was indeed double-qualified for both the mechanic program and the mobile suit pilot courses. "What do you know? You were being on the level for once."
"Oya, oya," The elder cadet said with mock disgust. "Such trust in your fellows."
It wasn't long before they were reined-in again. After they were through with the day's training, just before lights-out, Kunio and Lyles addressed their bunkmate, giving him a thorough toasting—even if was with just rations bought from the commissary—and congratulating him on making into the Mobile Weapons division. They were truly happy. Kunio was beside himself, and Lyles was more or less in heightened spirits, something hard to do as compared with his normally jovial mood. What Nagisa and Kunio didn't know was that their senior had been a little worried that the recent addition to the Mimura family wouldn't make it. The testing for the Mobile Weapons program included an examination with a controlled simulator, and the only reason that Nagisa passed was because of his familiarity with the standard ZAFT OS. If not for that, he would have probably failed. Another thing that worked in his favor was that the OS was very much a practical and straightforward thing; even untrained, most students were able to move around and shoot with varying levels of success and failure.
"With any luck," Lyles said, leaning back in his bunk at lights-out, "We'll all be in some GiNNs by the end of the month, on assignment."
Nagisa felt a little ashamed, so he wanted to bring up something else. Though he didn't have much time to speak with her, since they were constantly working towards becoming full-fledged soldiers, Nagisa thought highly of Suzuka Hayes-Sato. "What about that Suzuka, huh? Mobile weapons and infantry. Sounds like your kind of girl, Doyle."
"Well, she's as capable as anyone else, looks aside." Lyles murmured in the dark, to which Kunio thumped on the base of the bunk as if to voice agreement. "There's a saying: those who don't use treads, butt heads."
"Whatever," Nagisa grinned, and doused his bunk-mounted reading light. There was one person above him, but their other bunkmate—a young man by the name of Jackt Tungsten, was already K.O'ed. He of course, wasn't in on their secret, so they never mentioned anything about Nagisa's past around their fourth bunkmate. Nagisa, worn to the bone after seven days of rigorous preparations and instruction, fell asleep almost instantly, his lids leaden.
Kunio, on the other hand, wondered if he was making the right decision, going into Mobile Weapons instead of Operations and the route to command without enlisted service. One offered a great opportunity to shape the overall war strategy, but he doubted that he would rise high enough fast enough to make much of a difference in that area. Also, his father had been a mechanized infantryman, before becoming a fleet officer. Mobile Weapons seemed closest to the tradition.
"So be it," he muttered, and shut off his own little light.
The next three weeks saw the three male members of the 'Aprilius Gang' become much stronger, converting gained weight into lean muscle mass, and all of them were much more used to the routine now. Nagisa gained less weight and muscle, as his body was not that of a Coordinator, and he visibly didn't become as big as his two friends. The only consolation on that note was that the other two didn't get much bigger: Doyle had been in near-peak physical condition, and Kunio was, like his legal brother, of Asian descent, and thus didn't tend to get much larger than the average westerner at maximum. Despite the nature of Mobile Weapons, each pilot was required to be able to fight out of their mobile suit, should they get shot down. There was also the issue of dealing with the physical stresses of piloting. As a result, they spent a good amount of time doing 'laps' in the centrifuge, their least favorite activity. Each of them vomited at least once.
Like a coal being compressed by heat and pressure into a diamond, Suzuka only became more striking and breathtaking, even in mere recruit's jumpers. Her legs and arms were toned, and her stomach was very flat. Her gaze wasn't hardened—that only came with experience—but she was becoming a definite top dog. She piloted well, and exhibited good awareness and ability to follow orders.
Kunio was turning into quite the natural leader, and secretly, many of that recruiting squad began to see him as the next 'Asuran' of the ZAFT mobile suit corps. While not of as obviously high blood as Patrick Zara's offspring, Kunio possessed all the marks of success: good test results, strong leadership, great piloting, and steady character and charisma.
Lyles Doyle was becoming noted as a good pilot, but lacked the kind of finesse and polish in his ability that separated the good from the potential aces. However, what he lacked in skill he made up for with raw bravado and poise. If someone needed something taken down, Lyles was intent on doing everything—including hurling cargo containers in one infamous incident, known thereafter as MS Tantrum—to achieve his ends.
That left Nagisa, who, despite previous doubts, was becoming very skilled. The first day was the most frightening though, and really put him through his paces.
The prospective pilots stood in the launch bay of Boaz Station; all clad in the green and black flight suits of the majority of the mobile suit corps. The distinctive red and gray was reserved only for higher ranking and 'ace' pilots. There were twenty of them, and about as many mobile suits already waiting for them.
Their instructor, a man by the name of Li, stood off to the side, hanging onto the gantry railing precariously. This launch bay was reserved for training only, so they didn't have to worry about bumbling into the business end of a fleet cannon while landing and taking off. However that didn't change the fact that Li was secretly afraid of heights, and the bottom looked very far down.
"Flight Recruits," He said with an imperious tone, forgetting the heights, "What you have in front of you is the ZGMF-1017 GiNN Trainer Version. It's almost structurally identical to the ZGMF-1017 GiNN Mass Production Suit, and operates about the same way. We've modified most of it to sense paint rounds and low-light laser fire for scrimmage fighting."
The GiNN, the ubiquitous mobile suit that plagued the Earth Alliance, was more or less a pattern of dark olive-gray, and drab lighter gray, with a couple of splashes of orange on the head fin. A red monoeye camera rested dimly, deactivated on its dark, inset track on the head. Seeing these machines up close—even their training versions—was a bit imposing and awe-inspiring. Nagisa could only imagine what it must be like to be on the receiving end of a GiNN assault wave.
"As the GiNN is our main space mobile suit, you will learn how to pilot it like a natural-born flight-junkie." Li said, patting the rail. He began to float down the line, and to each cadet in the rank, passed out a keycard. "These are your keycards, they allow you access to your GiNN Trainer and log your flight hours. I'll be the one keeping score on your scrimmages. Now, as I hand these, go and find the numbered GiNN that you've been assigned. We'll talk more on the squad net."
Kunio and Nagisa exchanged nervous glances, while Doyle blew a kiss at Suzuka mockingly, which she 'caught' and motioned as if she were jettisoning it out the launch bay. Doyle drifted towards his MS with a look of mock dejection.
Standing at just about twenty-one and a half meters, and weighing in at almost seventy-nine metric tons, the GiNN was a behemoth of a single-pilot vehicle. Vernier thrusters in the back supplied it with maneuvering ability, and an assortment of apogee motors allowed it a wide range of motion. Nagisa took a seat in the chest-housed cockpit compartment, pulling his disc from under his suit's neck section and sealing his helmet, closing the chest compartment in due time.
Looking over the systems, he noted that he'd have to very quickly work before powering up for launch. Thankfully, Flight Instructor Li didn't go through pre-launch with them—by now that routine should have been second nature. This allowed Nagisa to place his disc in the maintenance reader, as he powered up the mobile suit with the push of a button. Instantly, systems came to life.
However, just as they were going to go fully online, he flipped out the onboard keyboard and began typing commands. He'd trained for this moment in his spare time almost as much as he did actual studying. His fingers were rapid and accurate as he followed keystroke with keystroke.
Reset boot structure, partition memory storage, allow for soft-rewrite activation…he went through the steps in his mind, as he typed out their commands into the main command-line program of the GiNN's standard OS. Within a few seconds the system suddenly shut down. He'd heard that the enemy pilot of the Strike had reprogrammed the OS of his mobile suit on the spot—all that Nagisa had to do was copy a few files and erase his tracks.
As the screens flared on again, displaying the restart progress under his own homegrown operating system, Nagisa let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. MS-DOS, as he'd named it, a geeky name, he knew—Mobile Suit Dumbass Operating System—was now loaded. Before he could savor his first victory though, he received an audio/visual feed from the instructor, who was inside of a normal 1017 GiNN painted in light gray commanders' colors.
"Alright people, now that you're all suited up, powered up, and ready to go, let's go out for a spin. Launch by designation numbers, that means Hayes-Sato, you're up." Li said over the comm channel, his rolling language easily understandable, almost inviting.
The linear catapult system was pretty straightforward. All the pilot needed to do was wait for the 'clear' signal, hit a return button, and hang on, as the controller ejected the mobile suit, dragging and pushing it by its feet and back-straps with bodily force. Powered flight wasn't even necessary, though most pilots liked to go out 'hot' with thrusters on full burn. Today, they were going to do a simple launch and get out of the way of the next pilot, and assemble at a rally point on the surface of the asteroid Boaz was bored into.
"Mimura Nagisa, GiNN Trainer," The young man said into his helmet mike, "Launching!" He hit the return button as soon as he got green for launch, and felt his body getting slammed into his seat by accumulated g forces. Within seconds, he was floating outside the asteroid. Now came the moment of truth.
Gripping the two handlebar-like devices that allowed him to move the arms and fire weapons, he tried the system out. First, he lowered his arms, and then, pulling the throttle forward, jetted towards the rally point. He didn't have to wait for his results.
With something of an ungainly trim, the twenty-meter metal giant shot off in the right direction, and he managed to land it on the surface without plowing his head into the rock. A few cautious steps were taken until he was standing beside Doyle and Kunio, identified by markings on his HUD.
"So far, so go…just need to adjust…" Nagisa said under his breath, getting out the control keyboard and editing the operating system's refined movement shift points. Soon enough, as the last trainee was landing, he'd adjusted enough to compensate, and was able to walk freely.
Piloting a mobile suit, he found, wasn't unlike riding a bike. It required a certain sense of balance—even though the computer system automatically balanced the feet—and timing. He felt that with time, he'd do it more naturally. Seeing the other pilot-hopefuls struggling about as much as he did was encouraging.
"Now, you'll notice that you're all loaded out with some neat toys," Instructor Li said with some derision. He knew that the students had studied their weapons loadout, but he wanted to go over it anyways; he didn't have a choice. "You're all carrying an MM1-M8A3 76mm machinegun. It isn't live, so don't take out your frustrations just yet." This was met with some nervous chuckles from anonymous students in the group, all of whom stood around the instructor in a loose circle. "It's currently loaded up with paint rounds and a laser rangefinder. I'll give you two motivators to do well: you'll get better and get out of here with higher starting rank, and the second is that you are the one responsible for washing off the paint on your MS."
There was a collective gaggle of groans and moans over the communications link, and Li only laughed. That was universally the reaction of flight recruits at the revelation of the old ZAFT tradition. Even Kunio wasn't immune, and Nagisa picked up a distinctive "In the name of Buddha…" and Doyle's characteristic "Bummer!"
"Normally, that gun fires APSV rounds, but you're only going to use that on the live-fire exercises. You've also been outfitted with a carbon-fiber, blunted version of the MA/M3 GiNN sword. That thing will be your best friend when you run out of ammo, so treat it nice and it treats you nice." Their instructor explained, holding up a metal-like, sword-shaped object that didn't look to be quite real. As if to prove his point, he hopped forward and hit a trainee in the chest with it, a killing move, which in this case only served to make a wailing cadet stumble back and keel over with a moan.
Nagisa smirked. He liked this man. As twenty eyes—a disconcerting vista of ominous, bright-red dots—found the instructor once again, he began issuing orders.
"Today, we do the Slalom." He said, and started the session.
The Slalom, as the training staff on Boaz called it, was a series of navigation buoys strung along on an imaginary ski-course. The objective of the Slalom was to get the best time with the best maneuvering through the sharp turns, weaving between 'red' buoys and 'blue' buoys. The first day was only a couple of runs through the Slalom, but they were equipped with their 'weapons' to get a feel for how the GiNN handled with their additional mass as a factor.
Kunio was already on his way to setting a record, impressing Instructor Li, but Nagisa was having his own problems. He discovered that flying in space was a little different than how he imagined it, and dealing with the reality of three to five g being pushed on every curve threw his piloting off by something he couldn't fault the OS for. So as he powered through the Slalom, he found himself groaning audibly with every turn.
The additional gravity sucked the breath out of him, and made it feel as it time was going slower, and thus he was going slower. Or so he thought. "Come on you useless heap of junk!" He grunted, gritting his teeth.
Pushing the throttle pedal, he rocketed out of a hairpin turn and made a beeline for the next swing. With even more stress on him, he felt as if he was going to gag on his compacted tongue.
"Relax, Mimura." Li's voice sounded on a private channel. "Just let your body go with the flow. Anticipate each turn, and then execute."
"Alright—" He managed behind a screen of pearly whites, easing back the thrust as he drifted through a turn with a sporadic use of verniers. Coming out of it, he opened up with his thrusters and killed his lateral momentum, pulling a curve that would have been a space equivalent of using the emergency brake. The force was enough that he banged his helmet on the side of his canopy with a loud thunk.
He made his way like that through the course, until he flew back to the rally point, settling down woozily, using the GiNN's sword like a crutch as his inner ear struggled to come to grips with a lack of forward momentum. "Shit…"
Over the open link, he heard what sounded like clapping. Then, Li came on again. "Not bad, Mimura. 1'29''90.04. That's almost as fast as Suzuka. Lacked style and finesse, but hell. You ripped it up. Try not to get knocked around as much next time."
"Bang-up job, Nagi!" Doyle beamed as they met up again in the launch bay, punching him in the shoulder in his inimitable way. "No pun intended."
Nagisa rubbed his temple humbly. "Yeah, no joke."
Kunio floated over from his GiNN, holding his helmet under an arm and smiled. "Hey."
"And the Master himself," Doyle said with a cough and then a sharp salute.
"Belay the mickeymouse!" they heard Li shout from his own mobile suit hatch, using his backpack jets to navigate towards them. "You've still got work to do!"
After acquitting themselves in with the Slalom, they discovered yet another of ZAFT's training traditions: Off-hours Ski Time. Flight recruits were allotted a certain number of free-flight hours to use for training each week, and the Slalom was always open for use whenever the instructors weren't putting it in service. Naturally, challenging the Slalom and setting up unique tasks was something of an unofficial sport, and Control kept tabs on the flight record. Time trials were the most common, with the all time record held at an unbelievable fifty-one seconds, in a GiNN trainer, held by Isaac Joule, one of the now-famous La Cruise Team pilots. Cracking the one-minute mark was the sign of ace-pilot portent, and it was a secret goal of Kunio to do this, though he confided it to his two companions from Aprilius, of course.
Thus, training continued.