The Best Is Yet to Come

By Mr. Vinister

February 10th, UC 0088

Inter-Planetary Helium Carrier Jupitris

Seated comfortably in his throne of power, surveying the bridge of his dominion, the titanic ship Jupitris, Paptimus Scirocco watched the screens that displayed his loyal subordinate Reccoa Londe's Pallas Athena, returning with her squad. He was pleased to see that Reccoa had lost only three men to the mission. When his trusted right hand Haifan turned to face him, he already knew what he was going to say before the words had even begun to leave the other man's mouth.

"The operation was a complete success, Lord Scirocco. The Dogos Gear has been destroyed, and Reccoa Londe has confirmed the death of Colonel Ohm."

"What did I tell you, Haifan?" smiled Scirocco, the slightest hint of smug satisfaction creeping into his tone. Always cautious, Haifan had suggested devising a less discreet method of removing Bosque Ohm, but Scirocco had overridden him. And he had never doubted that he was correct in that decision.

Haifan dropped his eyes; even he could not meet Paptimus Scirocco's gaze, smug or otherwise, for very long.

"As always, your vision stretches far beyond my own, Lord Scirocco."

"The flow of time is on our side." assured Scirocco, rising from his seat. "Never forget that."

"Will you stay here to receive Ensign Londe's report?"

"No, I think you can handle such matters." said Scirocco dismissively. It had not been missed by anyone that the doting, almost nurturing demeanor that the Man from Jupiter had usually taken on when dealing with the Jupitris' newest recruit had long since vanished, least of all Reccoa herself. For his part, Haifan was familiar with Scirocco's methods, and had long since resigned himself to not understanding them.

"… Understood, Lord Scirocco."

Before he had finished his sentence, Scirocco was already walking away, inwardly not wanting to deal with the charade of humoring Reccoa Londe's desires. Not right now, at least. Allowing himself a brief sigh of satisfaction, Scirocco retired to his personal quarters. Once there, as was his wont, he undid the bun over his hair, letting it fall freely around his shoulders.

Unlike most military commanders, Scirocco enjoyed the privileges of his rank whenever opportunity afforded him the pleasure, and nowhere else was this more prevalent than within his quarters. One corner of the room was dominated by an enormous bed he had imported from Earth, while another corner featured an elegant oak desk, one brought back with him from Jupiter, a gift from a long-since-deceased mentor. The desk faced a large spherical porthole, giving The Man from Jupiter a clear view of space from the sleek, comfortable chair in front of the desk.

Shedding his pristine white Titans uniform and hanging it on its designated hanger in his walk-in closet, Scirocco donned an ebon robe and made his way to his desk, easing himself into his chair.

Littering the desk were scribbled strategies for battles to come, half-finished mobile suit designs, and his personal journal. Those who knew The Man from Jupiter would be surprised to learn that his workspace was such a disorganized jumble. But there was a method to his madness, though few would realize it.

Brushing aside the mess of blueprints and charts, Scirocco opened his journal. Engraved onto the cover were five scenes: in the upper left corner, the Titan Prometheus erect and proud, bequeathing the gift of fire to cowering humans; in the upper right corner, Adam eating from the forbidden fruit of knowledge, given to him by the mother of mankind, Eve. The lower left corner displayed scientist Sir Issac Newton hunched over a desk, writing his famous work "Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy"; in turn the lower right hand corner portrayed astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus standing upon cathedral turrets, observing the celestial firmament unaided by a telescope. And last, in the very center stood Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe's Faust making his immortal pact with Mephisto. Five scenes, each one depicting the gift or acquiring of knowledge either from the gods or through man's own effort. Scirocco had been known for both during his years out at Jupiter. Picking up a pen, Scirocco began to write the day's entry.

Today the last major threat to my power within the Titans, Colonel Bosque Ohm, has met with an unfortunate demise. Even with the loss of Sarah, my plans remain constant. Reccoa has proven herself to be more than able to handle the duties I relied on Sarah for, and I have no doubt that she will continue to serve me faithfully after the war is over. Assuming, of course, that she lives through the war.

With AEUG now in possession of Gryps 2, I've no doubt that Axis will treat us as a secondary matter, which I plan to use to our advantage. If we press our attack strongly enough, it's very likely that our forces can successfully disable Gryps 2 before the AEUG even has a chance to use it against us. Between Titans and Axis, the AEUG will no doubt target our forces all-but exclusively.

After the war is over, I am certain that Haman Khan will be the one to rise up as humanity's leader. Never before have I felt as powerful a will as when I fought the leader of Axis. Even the pilot of Zeta Gundam can't compare. Only Haman's will is equal to my own. She'll make the perfect woman to lead humanity into the golden age.

The only man standing in the way of that plan is Char Aznable. That particular pawn has been a thorn in my side for far too long. I'm going to have to make it a point in my next sortie to eliminate that washed up 'Red Comet' once and for all.

Tomorrow my forces will engage the AEUG fleet. This will be the deciding battle of the war. Until then, I remain

With a few curved, graceful strokes, The Man from Jupiter signed his name. Looking at his signature, he was reminded of the blood oath he had made to Jamitov Hyman months ago. He couldn't help but chuckle.

For all of your paranoia Jamitov, I'm still amazed that you put so much faith in a simple fingerprint of blood…

Closing his journal, Paptimus Scirocco sorted through the piles of scribbles and outlines, experiments that might or might not see production. For every mobile suit The Man from Jupiter built, he had ten that never made it off paper. This one, though… he considered as he found what he was looking for … this one is going to see construction, no question…

Though frayed in spots where Scirocco's eraser had gone back and corrected or modified, sometimes several times over, the mobile suit depicted on the sheet of paper had a clear shape and form. Bulky and bizarre to the untrained eye, this design was distinguished by its enormous shoulders, dominating chest thrusters, and narrow head, similar to his recently-completed PMX-003 unit.

All in all, the unit looked like a cross between the aforementioned PMX-003 The O and his earlier PMX-001 Pallas Athena. Which, in part, it was. But it was also so much more.

While the mobile suit itself was drawn from all views, nearing the bottom of the sheet were several renditions of a small, tube-shaped weapon. Ironic, then, that the machine in question was called the funnel, when it resembled a funnel not in the least.

It was a weapon Scirocco had first seen firsthand used by Haman Khan's personal mobile suit, the AMX-004 Qubeley. Outnumbered three to one, Haman had managed to use these small, PsyCommu-controlled remote weapons to disable both Sarah and Reccoa, and only his superior NewType intuition had kept him from the same fate.

Scirocco immediately fell in love with the weapons. They were so innocuous, yet so efficient, so utterly like the woman who used them. After the war was over, he was going to have to get Haman to show him the secrets behind such weapons, although he was confident that given enough time, he would be able to engineer a superior version with or without her help.

He had yet to think of a name, though, and Paptimus Scirocco prided himself on the names of his mobile suits. They were, after all, representatives of his great genius, and in the age of the 'Psyco Gundam' and the 'Hizack', Scirocco knew that many took note of his mobile suits' names, even though very few actually knew where they came from. No one he had met thus far knew that the inspiration for his The O came from Ouranous, god of the sky and father of the Greek Titans. And while he himself might not be able to claim biological fatherhood over his Titans, there was no questioning that he was their patriarch now.

Looking the mobile suit over, Scirocco thought of the woman who would pilot it, the woman who would, under his guidance, lead humanity to the stars. The Empress of the New Age. The Queen of the NewTypes.

At once, it came to The Man from Jupiter, and he hastily scribbled it down. He looked at the mobile suit, looked at the name, looked back at the mobile suit, and smiled. Erasing his rushed scribble, he stroked the name out onto the paper, with the elegance that befit such a design.

PMX-004 "Titania", by Paptimus Scirocco

Satisfied, Scirocco glanced at the nearby clock. 11:45 PM. Rising, he made his way to his bed and settled in under the velvety Italian sheets.

Just a few more days. After planning and waiting for over ten years, what are a few more days? After everything that's happened, I shouldn't be so anxious… but the best is yet to come.

Even in slumber, Paptimus Scirocco's mind was in motion, conceiving new machines and new plans. Three hallways away, Reccoa Londe dreamed of Paptimus taking her to a ball, sweeping her up in those magnificent arms of his and dancing the night away with him under the stars. The crewmembers of Scirocco's great ship slept soundly, envisioning their big victory tomorrow.

All the dreams on the Jupitris that night were pleasant.