Chapter 17
Federation Supermax Prison Diyu, The Moon
Clank. Thud. Clank. Thud. The chain gangs toiled at the bottom of the Pit. Pickaxes rose and fell in unison as men and women carved another level of the prison out of the hard basalt rock of the moon. Guards, all drawn from the victims of Zeon colony drops on Earth, stood on elevated platforms, keeping a finger on the trigger of their shotguns in case any of the Zekes got uppity.
She hadn't been here that long, she knew this. The work hadn't beaten her into a seemingly permanent slouched stance. The work hadn't eroded her yet. It was both a blessing and a curse. She still remembered what it was like to have silky hair that flowed down her back, what a good bed felt like, what it was to live as a person, not Prisoner 44367. It was a curse because the contrast between her current existence and what she had once had was torturous.
The work was hard, it was backbreaking, it was bone breaking. Life in Diyu was meant to wring you dry and make you drop, then you'd be put on an IV drip, nursed back to semi-health and sent back out to the pit. It was a cycle of labor meant to break the prisoners the Federation legal system had deemed too dangerous to put in normal work camps. The results of the Delaz Uprising in the POW labor camps on Earth had left their mark on the federal judicial community. Now the enemies of the Federation taken prisoner wouldn't be given the chance to formulate escape.
Diyu was the result of this new ethos. 'Work them hard and work them long' was the motto of the wardens, who themselves were handpicked from the ranks those most affected by the deeds of Zeon against the Earth. Constructed in the remotest parts of the basalt plains on the near side of the moon, the prison was a work of genius, a genius twisted towards making the lives of the prison's inhabitants utterly hellish, but genius nonetheless.
Clank. Thud. Clank! The antiquated loudspeaker crackled to life above the toiling prisoners clad in white jumpsuits. "The work shift it over. All prisoners report to barracks. Repeat, the work shift is over. All prisoners report to barracks at once."
With a concealed sigh of relief, she joined her fellow work-mates in returning pickaxes, placing the tools in a great bin from which the next work shift would retrieve them. Everything in Diyu centered around the downwards expansion of the Pit. Each prisoner barrack served one shift on, two shifts off in digging duty. Now that her barrack was done digging, they would take their turn sorting the collected material. After that, they would be put on menial labor.
After returning the pickaxes, she and her comrades in bonds were chained together by wardens who smelled of tobacco, and then the exhausting march to the living ring of the Pit began. Up and up they went, the levels of the Pit becoming filled with the necessary buildings to support life in the supermax prison she found herself in. During the march she risked a look at the sky or what accounted for the sky in Diyu. There was no glass ceiling to allow her and her fellows the glimpse at the vast tracts of space that was humanity's birthright as affirmed by Zeon Deikun. Instead the Federation had constructed a vast metallic dome, painting the topside gray to fit with the rest of the Moon's surface while the side that the not-so-free residents of the prison had was colored a matte black. Those among her barracks that had had any kind of tan before imprisonment had quickly lost it when the only source of light was artificial.
She knew that she looked wraithlike in appearance, having had alabaster skin before her imprisonment. Maybe that's what they all were now, the waiting dead of old Earth myths, waiting for their passage into the next life to be approved.
As they reached the level of Diyu that was home to their uncomfortable barracks, she took the opportunity to reassess her neighbor. To the right of her barrack was one of the Axis Zeon groups, to the left resided an amalgamation of other anti-Federation groups. Below the ring her barrack was situated was the single barrack filled with Titans who had resisted folding into either Neo Zeon or the EFF after that organization's final defeat. Diyu truly was filled with every single foe that the Federation had ever fought, some rumors even claimed that on the opposite side of the Pit there was an AEUG barrack.
There was another changing of the chains as they were taken out of the long walking chain and shoved through the single person doors into the communal entity that was a Diyu barrack. The only positive thing she could muster about her living accommodations was that they had given her further reason to be proud of her body.
But it was when she found herself in her bunk, idly staring at the metal rafters, that she allowed her mind to wander to what events might be occurring in the wide open space, far away from her prison. Was he still out there? She believed that he was still alive in her heart of hearts. She could still feel him though it was faint and felt muffled, like she was feeling him through several blankets. Had he been injured? Was he in a coma?
If she ever confided in anyone else, they would say that she was going crazy from prison life. But even so, her only hope in life now was that Char Aznable was still out there.
"Please hurry my captain." Nanai Miguel whispered to herself before rolling over to go to sleep. She'd need it every ounce of its regenerative abilities here in Diyu.
U.C. 0094.3.1
Quarters of the Supreme Commander, Calyx Military Port, Palau, L4
"The essence of the art of mobile suit combat is that of the balance between speed and velocity. Any pilot must be able to meet the needs of these two forces, never favoring one or the other in a combat engagement, in order to be the victor. Too much attention to velocity and the pilot is liable to weaken his ability to engage and disengage quicker than his opponent. Too much attention to speed and he loses access to approach vectors. A truly great pilot should be able to instinctively switch between these two needs, knowing which one to prioritize on a moment to moment basis while in combat. Those that are unable to meet the needs of these two conflicting mechanics will not be a mobile suit pilot for long." I closed the book with a snap. "Who would have thought that Dozle Zabi would be such an authoritative author in the world of mobile suit combat? Leadership too."
I paused, looking around my office. I don't know when I started talking to myself when considering literary material but it was a habit, one I needed to drop. A glance at the clock on my desk told me that my "personal time" was nearly up. My copy of Dozle Zabi's On the Nature of Mobile Warfare, the seminal work in the fields of mobile suit warfare, was set aside, the page I was on dogeared to mark my place. The book was placed atop a stack of similar works: Clauswitz, Rommel, Dozle again, and both the Federation and Principality primers on the operation of mobile suits. Part of my efforts to bring myself up to snuff in the leadership department. I had realized that implanted combat knowledge or not, I had larger responsibilities that I needed to both live up and exceed expectations.
Maybe it was sharing my headspace with the remnants of an accomplished military tactician but I felt the need to measure up. To be the leader my men thought I was, or seemed to think I was. In addition to growing my literary knowledge, I had forced more simulator hours into my training regime. I could have done the training in the real deal but mobile suit grade fuel was being carefully rationed for training purposes in order to account for our limited fuel supplies. I couldn't make an exception for myself even with my efforts to completely master the intricacies of the Geara Doga mobile suit.
A quick stop in the closet to don my red jacket for the day, a simplified version of my more complex jacket. It lacked the high collar and tailcoats, and was the test bed for the new style of uniforms that would be introduced next month. The designer had been given the job to merge both Axis Neo Zeon and Newborn Neo Zeon aesthetic into an inclusive uniform design that would raise the morale of former members of both factions. At least that's what the proposal had said it would do when it passed my desk for review. The major improvement was that the new designs brought back the standard Zeon green to all uniforms, so I wouldn't be subjected to my captains and commanders being half dressed in green and the other half in a metallic light blue.
"Sieg Zeon" The guards posted at my doors said as they snapped to attention at my appearance.
"Sieg Zeon." I replied casually, noting that it looked like the rooster had been shaken up again. It seemed like Major Silk had been rotating every member of our ground forces through the duty of guarding my residence and my person. A separate pair of guards peeled away from the opposite wall to fall in behind me as I made my way to the headquarters here on Calyx.
Luckily for my feet, the internal monorail had been restored halfway through February, so the journey from the center of the asteroid to the Military Port district was over in a matter of minutes. Headquarters was right next to the monorail station and it was vastly amusing to me on a personal level that I was running an insurgency from the floors of an office building. If only we had the excess budget to have a giant neon sign that read 'Neo Zeon Inc" installed on the side. But I didn't have an excess budget to allocate.
"Captain Zinnerman, good morning." I greeted the commander of my intelligence department. Zinnerman's office was my first stop of each day, with the lack of ongoing operations that I needed to direct, consuming as much intelligence as possible became a priority. Zinnerman's Arango-class ships were the Sleeves best source of intelligence on the positioning and routes of EFSF patrols over Luna.
"Sir. Good morning to you." Zinnerman gruffly responded before pulling a sheet of electro-paper from his desk. Despite his advancement up the ranks, Zinnerman still constantly dressed in his duster, but due to him being on Palau he was wearing his uniform underneath. "The latest scout reports from the Moon."
I took the electro-paper and started to read, paying particular attention to the bluff components of each report. Like the spies of wars long gone, Zinnerman's ships had blended in with the civilian populace which allowed them to pass unnoticed through the lunar shipping lanes, monitoring the movement of Federation patrols.
"So the estimates have remained consistent three separate times now." I noted. "Your opinion on the possibility that these estimates represent the most accurate number of Federation ships present during Operation Left Hook?"
A pensive look took over Zinnerman's face, bush eyebrows furrowing downwards. "Give or take one, maybe even two in a highly unlikely scenario, to account for patrol courses that take ships near the Moon, the analysis of four to five dedicated EFSF patrol fleets in lunar orbit is the most likely probability."
"Which would number roughly the same as the patrol fleet we engaged at Pezun." I said.
"Yes, maybe even with fewer ships if the Federation stand by of assigning more ships to AOs with a higher chance of combat persists." Zinnerman theorizes, flipping through reports.
"However the Moon is a high value target in space, the crossroads of the Earth Sphere. If the Federation allowed any hostile force to gain a foothold on the Moon, that enemy could strike at Federation bases and fleets with nigh impunity." I continued our brainstorming session.
"So we need to expect a quick Federation response time after the opening strike." Zinnerman spoke, now leaning forward on his desk. Dark eyes locked on the map of the Moon pinned to the wall. "We'll have to be prepared for all of them to converge on our main detachment once they locate us."
"Unless we disrupt their ability to coordinate long enough to remove the numbers advantage to enact a defeat by detail strategy." I twisted a lock of hair idly, pondering the issue. What weapon could there be to induce the Minovsky particles jamming effect without having ships nearby to disperse Minovsky particles?
Zinnerman slapped the desk and exclaimed "That's it!"
"What?" I asked, feeling like the captain had an answer without him saying anything.
"I remembered something we used during the One Year War that is just what we need here." He flipped through more electro-paper and tablets before selecting a tablet and handing it to me. "M-Warheads were used heavily during the opening offensives of the One Week War so that Principality fleets could gain the first strike against their targets. It's effectively a missile with a low explosive payload that serves to rapidly saturate a large area with Minovsky particles stored in the warhead."
After reading the details of the M-Warhead equipped missiles, I had to agree with Zinnerman's reasoning. These could be invaluable tools in Neo Zeon's arsenal, assuming that we could construct them in sufficient numbers to have a noticeable effect on combat operations. And there was one more issue I noticed.
"Sound reasoning Zinnerman, but these are banned by the Treaty of Granada." I held up the tablet with the relevant line highlighted. Then I remembered who I was and the fact that I didn't need to abide by strategic arms limitation treaties that I hadn't signed.
Zinnerman must have thought I was making a joke, because he started laughing. I joined and made sure to ruefully shake my head after the laughter had finished.
"Well." I said. "Good job captain, I'll have engineering start construction, though Oshikawa won't be happy with the additional workload."
"Thank you sir. Anything else I can do while you're here?" Zinnerman asked.
"Only two items captain. I need our radio man to step up his rhetoric now that the time for Operation Left Hook is nearing. We need to invigorate the AEUG base with a solid victory against the Federation and a victory to drive fence sitters to us instead of another organization at the moment." I rattled off.
Zinnerman stroked his beard. "Especially now that the new Earth Relief Bill has started to hit the local lunar shipping industry hard. If they knew that we were promising action and then delivered, our reputation would grow in leaps."
"Right but that brings me to the second item I need you to attend to: Find me someone or some group to bring into the AEUG. A Lunar Independence group that is willing to be allied with Neo Zeon and that has ambitions to expand their reach into every lunar city." I explained. If Left Hook was to be announced by Radio AEUG, the station would have to say that the operation had been executed by Neo Zeon. Such news would most likely draw in more Zeonists to join Neo Zeon itself but I wanted Left Hook to grow the AEUG as well.
"If we announce that we worked with a lunar separatist organization, potential recruits who wouldn't have wanted to work with us would join to work with them." Zinnerman deduced. "Or those who only care about the Moon instead of the wider struggle of spacenoids."
"Exactly, so find me a group to work with." I told him. "And keep looking for the location of our people. Your people have made good progress on narrowing its location down to the Moon so far. We're close, I can feel it."
"It will be done sir." Zinnerman saluted as I left his office, guards falling back in again.
"Take this to the Engineering and give it to Chief Engineer Oshikawa." I ordered a passing adjutant, handing her the tablet I had definitely borrowed from Zinnerman. She responded with a chipper 'at once supreme commander!" and went off on her way, completely unaware as to the tongue whipping Oshikawa would give her for being the bearer of more work. The old man was great at what he did but as he was part of the military meant that he got more work to account for his ability. So he had a lot to work on these days with the lack of combat for the Lindra to sail into.
The next stop on my daily travelogue of Calyx was the upper most level of Headquarters, where Captain Hill Dawson was planning the naval maneuvers to move the Neo Zeon fleet into position around the Moon.
As I entered the top level, I cast my gaze around the floor. It had taken a good head of elbow grease to safely demolish enough walls to create the empty space needed for a large holoprojector to be installed into the floor but it had been managed. Now the room could project large, manipulable 3D images of any object in the solar system, provided it was documented in available databases. Why bother looking at still images of the lunar shipping lanes when you could watch all that traffic in real time?
However due to such a large hologram being in use, there were no lights on in the chamber when it was operational. The only lightsource was the blue light emanating from the hologram. It made Hill Dawson's already dour face positively ghoulish.
"Captain Dawson, how goes the work?" I asked, tugging on my collar as the room's heat washed over me. Holograms of this size emitted a large amount of heat. This was probably the hottest room in the building. Just my luck that I wasn't a heat person.
"Ah Supreme Commander. I've been progressing at pace but now that you are here, the two of us might be able to close out the plans by the end of the day." Dawson spoke, his laconic drawl in full effect. Truly the man would have been right at home with a group of ancient Spartans. He would have brought the house down.
"Good news for your mental efforts then Dawson, my cleared my schedule just for you."
"I'm honored, Supreme Commander. Shall we get to work?"
"Let's."
And then we got to work. Plotting the approach routes that would give our warships the most advantage during the attacks on Federation ships. Assigning ships that would work well together, namely keeping the ships used by the first and second Neo Zeon movement's separate due to differences in their design philosophy. Musai Kais and Endras were designed to provide powerful rearguard fire support, or engage ships that also lacked direct mobile suit support. Musakas, on the other hand, were intended to both fulfill the rearguard support role of its spiritual predecessors and to be able to close to knife range thanks to its dozen AA turrets. A feature the Musais and Endras lacked entirely, depending on missiles to fulfil anti-mobile suit roles.
Personally I preferred the approach Horst Harness had gone with when he was designing Char's navy.
Then we moved onto calculating rally points for various fleet elements to rally to in the event we needed to consolidate or retreat. Finally we allocated pilots and their mobile suits to ships and decided which pilots would be assigned the new production suits that my deal with Anaheim had allowed us to complete construction of. Ten Zaku IIIs, seven Dreissens and two Zssas were desperately needed reinforcements, allowing us to assign pilots who had had their older suited decommissioned from active service. We still ended up with six floating Dreissens that needed assigning.
"These AMX-009s are too valuable in their anti-ship role to be excluded from this operation." Dawson drawled. "It's the main weakness of our mobile suit force at the moment. The Feddies will have the chance to regroup if their ships aren't hammered hard in concert with their mobile suits. I've seen the results of ignoring ships in favor of mobile suits happen far too often to fall into that trap. Just as you have sir."
"Of course." I replied absentmindedly, focusing on the hologram of the Dreissen was being displayed. While Neo Zeon might currently be limited in the R&D department, let it not be said that its current members weren't damn good at their job. Their internalization of the Dreissen's triple beam cannon power cables had resulted in no drop in cannon's ability to function. There had also been something about an improved power supply system added as well that increased the cannon's output. "But now that we've run out of trained pilots, we need to switch to finding pilots that can pilot without crashing."
"You want to pull from the training corp." There wasn't judgement in Dawson's voice, in fact it sounded more like approval.
"Only the best of the current crop and even then they'll be deployed onto Geara Dogas. Pull those piloting Geara Dogas who served in Axis onto the Dreissens. Make it so that no one is operating a suit they aren't at the very least familiar with." I rationalized. I wouldn't have a A Baoa Qu situation under my command, not yet at least. The fact that if we pulled the prison break segment of Left Hook off would mean that I wouldn't have to stretch my soldiers around like too little jam on too much bread was soothing to my conscious.
Dawson scoffed. "Who would have thought that the day would come when I would be asked to put my trust in the piloting of Glemy Toto loyalists. It's bad enough that they managed to sneak their color scheme into what all our Dreissens look like." Seemed the captain had a low opinion of Glemy Toto and his followers, which makes sense. Hill Dawson had joined up with Char Aznable, the famed Zabi killer, afterall, it would be strange if he had any strong sense of loyalty towards the Zabi family.
"I'm sure Haman is spinning in her grave. Probably hard enough to generate gravity." I commented sarcastically.
"A low opinion of the late Regent sir?" Dawson asked, dull grey eyes still assessing the holographic Dreissen.
"What I know of her and her rule is rumors and second hand accounts from self-professed biased sources Dawson. Besides, I try not to let dead leaders and their opinions affect my decisions."
All I got was a 'hmm' in response to that. Oh well, at least that gave me an opening to move onto my final business with Dawson. It had been a long time coming to be honest, ever since his first action of loyalty to me back in that lonely colony on the edge of Side 3. And if I wanted to make a Neo Zeon that didn't fall into infighting, I needed to reward loyalty, bind my subordinates to me in chains that would withstand a war.
Turning to face Dawson, I began to speak, projecting that aura of command you read about all true leaders having. As far as I knew, this just meant looking calm, cool and collected at all times. "As you know Dawson, the fleet is going to need a flag officer to take command of the naval maneuvers during this and future operations."
A spark of life in Dawson's dull eyes appeared as he took himself away from diagrams and plans to face me. "Would you like my recommendations sir?"
Through a mighty effort of personal will, I did not roll my eyes. Dawson might have the body language of a dead fish, but his eyes were very expressive. He was fully engaged. "While that will be necessary in the future Dawson, I've already filled in the spot."
I reached into the interior of my jacket, I really did need to give whoever kept designing such useful pockets a raise, and withdrew a steel snuffbox. Not very impressive but it was what was on hand from one of Corolla A's thrift stores. Opening the repurposed snuff box, the blue light of the holograms glinted off the gold and black rank tabs of a commodore in the service of Zeon's navy.
"Today is March 1st, 0094 of the Universal Century calendar. On this day I, Full Frontal, Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of Zeon, do present Hill James Dawson with the rank of Commodore in the Neo Zeon Navy, and entrust to him all the responsibilities and privileges therein invested in this rank. Do you accept?" I mustered as much formality into my speech as I could, the end result was that I sounded like an ancient judge proclaiming the verdict, back when they still wore wigs.
Hill Dawson stiffened to attention at my words and after I was done talking gave his response. "I, Hill James Dawson, accept the rank of Commodore in the Naval Forces of Neo Zeon with all the responsibility and privileges in it. Sieg Zeon!" He snapped off, extending his arm in a salute.
"Sieg Zeon!" I responded, handing the new commodore his rank tabs which he took with the gentleness of man cradling his firstborn. "Congratulations Commodore Dawson, I hope that you will serve with distinction."
"Thank you sir, you have my loyalty and gratitude for this."
"I'd expect nothing less from a man with your dedication to Zeon and its principles." We shook hands after that statement. "A memo will be sent out to all of your new subordinates informing them of the change in the chain of command but the weekly meetings will continue as they have. And once Operation Left Hook has concluded Dawson, you'll transfer your flag to the Rewloola which will serve as the flagship of the fleet once it is fully manned again."
He was pleased at that, anyone with eyes could tell, but it turned out he did have a question. "I thought that the Rewloola was Hans Lyle's command sir?"
Was that a hint of jealousy I was detecting in the good commodore's voice? It sounded that way, but Dawson was doing a fair job at concealing it to normal ears.
"The status of Captain Lyle has yet to be confirmed, he could have died during the end of the Axis Shock. Even if he is still alive, I want you to be in command of the fleet Dawson, not a man I don't know. I'm sure Captain Lyle will be open to a new command if he is liberated from the Federation." I could almost see the increase in reputation I was gaining with Dawson.
"You are the Supreme Commander for a reason sir. I have complete trust in your command decisions."
"Good man. I'll leave you to familiarize yourself with the new intricacies of your rank, and I want a fleet readiness report on my desk first thing tomorrow, commodore."
Corolla A, Palau, L4
My last item of official business today necessitated a change of attire and locale. A navy blue business suit made me blend in far better with my current company, where I was playing the role of an angel investor. Two men, one a pale germanic man with blond hair and the other being of indo-aryan heritage with black hair, addressed the room, running everyone present through the benefits of Imago Trading's newest asteroid belt operations.
In a definitely strange turn of events, the two men bore the names of Elias Kadwell and Jake Sutton, the two aliases I had created to interact personally with Anaheim Electronics. Another interesting tidbit my good friend Pepe had told me during the early days of my stay at Palau: in an economically struggling colony, there are people who would accept just about anything to crawl themselves out into the light of steady income. It turned out to be very easy to find two ex-business men hungry to get back into the game who would be willing to go under the knife to become my former fake identities. And while they were at it, why let a perfectly good shell company go to waste?
So Imago Trading, and its new CEO and COO, came onto the Palau business scene, specializing in the procurement and sale of construction materials mined in the asteroid belt. These materials would be refined and then sold to the local government and anyone else who needed building metals in bulk. Despite the fact that they were a front for funneling materials mined by the Zeon exiles who had set up shop in the belt, and it was a pleasant surprise that they had spent the better part of fifteen years amassing a vast amount of military grade metals because there wasn't much else they could do out there, the excess material could be sold at good enough prices to grant Imago Trading a net profit over time. Enough that the company could pay all its employees a living wage without having to dip into the gold and platinum the asteroid bases were sending along with the metals for the war machine. The problem of low fuel was a constant headache among myself and my high command but it looked like it would have to wait until Left Hook had run its course.
Although the new Kadwell and Sutton had yet to cease complaining, in very vitriolic words, about new trade regulations Earth had recently imposed on the Sides. A topic that would have to get added to the reading list based on how they never ceased to talk about it when it was a company meeting with just the three of us.
As I sat there, in the back of a small room drinking cheap coffee, it was surprisingly pleasing to know that whatever came next; whatever chaos and death I was about to unleash into the Earth Sphere, that I had left Palau a better place than I had found it. A once poor and forgotten colony on the fringe of Earth Sphere proper had been economically reinvigorated by the presence of soldiers with cash to spend and the pay given for manual labor needed to bring the military port in Calyx back online. Now with Palau being the headquarters of Imago Trading, there was another source of employment for the population of eighty thousand to enjoy.
Maybe once all was said and done, I'd vanish into the mass of humanity that inhabited space and spend the rest of whatever days I had left by that point as an angel investor. The work seemed gratifying enough.
So with the dawn of new military action in the Earth Sphere, I spent the rest of the work day indulging myself by idly day-dreaming about business opportunities before spending the evening in a simulator pod, racking up the training hours.
Because in a few days, the time for wasting time would be over.
Archived Radio AEUG broadcast. Date: 00EOST.
Let this be a message to oppressors who rule my brothers and sisters in space with an iron fist. The time is quickly drawing near for them to be reminded of the fact that when oppression becomes intolerable, the oppressed strike back with a vengeance. So I'm calling out to you my brothers and sisters listening in right now: look to the skies in the coming days for the vengeance of us spacenoids who have felt the iron caress of earthnoid tyranny for too long. Look out for those exemplars of our people who have decided that enough is enough! And I pray my brothers and sisters that soon these exemplars will not be alone for long! That we, the spaceborn human race, will soon be united in an Anti Earth Union to strike tyranny down into the gravity from which it came! This is Fifth Wave of Radio AEUG, signing off. Keep a close eye on the skies my friends.
Archived Military Dispatch FFSC1569-99. Sent on all Principality and Neo Zeon frequencies with proper authentication codes.
By order of the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of Zeon. Stop. All military operations on Earth to cease immediately. Stop. All Zeon divisions and army groups to regroup and reorganize. Stop. Further orders from High Command to follow when combat operations are completed in space. Stop. Look to the sky, comrades, the fight in space is not over. Stop. Sieg Zeon!
A/N: So things move along! Nanai Miguel makes her long awaited, by me who knew what was going to happen, entrance into the story. I'm very excited to write interactions between her and SI Frontal along with more Mineva scenes. Other than that this chapter is mostly set up for the next chapter, but it also establishes necessary components about how the Neo Zeon warmachine will function moving into the future of the story. On another note, this story quickly approaches the 100k word mark. Something I thought nothing I would ever write in my life would reach. You readers have been a major fact in encouraging me to keep on keeping on with this, so I personally thank you all for that. Comments and the like are encouraged and appreciated.
I'll see everyone next time for "The Red Baron Appears!" (and that's my attempt at a gundam episode title for now).