A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome to yet another story by yours truly. This one is a bit of a new experience for me; it came about after I realized the story I was writing (Changing Plans) had way more storytelling potential than I was giving it, so rather than bloat that one with all kinds of pace destroying material, I decided to package the extra stuff off into a separate one. So here's a side story for a main one, neat.
A few disclaimers before I start. First off, there will be no main protagonist for this one. There'll be recurring characters, a LOT of them (if you don't like large cast list then you should skip this right now, I'll understand why), but there won't be a central POV character. Second, while I'll try to make it a standalone tale as much as I can, reading Changing Plans will be necessary to get the full context here. Which is understandably annoying, but c'est la vie. On the flip side, if you're coming here from CP this won't be needed to get all the information going on. This is more of a grander scope/extra detail stuff that I can't/don't want to put in the main story.
Now the dealbreaker: there'll be talking in this. A lot of talking. Fictional politics, behind the scenes deals, ground level views, all yap-yap-yap. If that's your thing, cool, but if not, best to give this a pass. That said I will be sure to put in as much action as I can get away with, most of which will be several flavors of mecha carnage. But if there's not enough for your taste, then I'll get it if you drop this story like a hot potato. And before anyone asks, yes, Lelouch will be featured here a lot.
Okay, disclaimer over-wait. One thing: as before I don't own Code Geass or Muv Luv. If I did this would be a thirty minute OVA special released on Blu Ray. It'd probably bomb, but oh well.
This is How-Not-To-Do-Something, and I bring you "Changing Plans: Ancillary Stories."
Darkness. All encompassing, all consuming, subsuming existence in its totality. The human mind couldn't understand the darkness, not for what it truly was; more than a mere emptiness, it was the void in its purest form. Absent of air, matter, light, time, everything. It was nothing in a way that was impossible to grasp by a mere mortal. Thick, thin, suffocating, the eldritch darkness held onto its hapless victims, unwilling to allow a contamination of its existence so trivially. The reaction was petulant in a sense (as much as a shade of actuality beyond creation could be such), but a warranted one against unprotected violations instead of its usual travelers, those who were long since wise to this realm.
Soon, or eons, who could say in this place? But the darkness receded, returning the contamination to a physical state that it needed to exist. Pushing against the boundary of creation, a momentary tear formed in what lesser minds termed reality formed, creating a tiny rip in the universe. so tiny that its effects would not be felt for a dozen billion years. And through this hole, a speck of matter was deposited in a place that it did not belong. Drawing back, the matter fell through the void to interact with physical laws subtly different to its own; a gulf that was incredibly minor, but it existed nonetheless. Foreign matter returned to that condition that it began at, energy carried over with its passage resuming its previous functions. Scratch became matter, shapes, life. When the contamination was fully through, the breach repaired itself as if a break had never occurred.
Lingering unbalances remained on the newcomer, righting itself swiftly. Forged steel streaked by rust behaved as it was supposed to act. Energy flowed through circuits and life forms, as they had prior to touching the void. All they were returned to what they should be when the last wisps of inky smoke vanished. Left behind was some lifeless salt water, and a flat roofed ship topped by a stubby tower.
But not without reaction.
On the bridge of the USS Lexington, when the darkness receded the humans within staggered and heaved. Sailors lurched in their seats, gripping consoles and handholds to steady themselves, with one unlucky young man limply dropping from passing out. The executive officer had to throw his back against a wall to keep himself upright, muttering curses under his breath as he hissed. Grabbing the helm station, the Captain gasped while he felt his rubbery legs nearly give out from under him. And nearby, the two guests nearly collapsed when their functions resumed, one of them having to grip his mouth to deal with a ragged coughing attack.
Groaning as he held onto his spinning head, Captain Wayne Avery blearily lifted his head up to croak. "Sound off, status."
"Ah, fine as, can be, skipper, son of a-" Commander Hamill nearly fell over, sliding unsteadily across a panel before righting himself, using his prosthetic hand to hang onto an outcrop. For an aged sailor he appeared very green in the gills.
"Uh, yellow sir. Won't be green for a while... hang..." adjacent to the helm, Lieutenant Daisy Irons clamped a hand over her mouth, gulping unsteadily prior to slumping. "Williams is down, somebody help me."
Feeling the nausea fade quickly, Avery spared a glance to his tagalongs. "You two?"
The first was a bald man with a thin mustache, clad in a green splotched uniform quite unlike the sailors' garb. Lowering a crumpled handkerchief, he stood up straight and took a deep breath, letting a shiver roll through his system.
"Decent, Capatine." answered Captain Gerard Bressette, the French liaison officer stuffing his handkerchief in his breast pocket. His English was heavily accented but legible in his weak tone.
Beside him, a woman of thirty years needed a shuddering gulp of air before she could speak, closing her eyes to groan. Brunette hair shadowed her attractive face, all of a sudden feeling greasy and clumpy, despite every sign to the contrary. Her uniform was likewise dissimilar to the others, green fatigues better suited to an infantry grunt than what she really was, currently spotless yet wrinkled when it wasn't some time ago.
"I'm alright sir." Major Jinguuji Marimo replied in accented English as well, clenching her fists to deal with a full body shiver. Once she breathed deeply she spared a glance at the unconscious sailor Irons moved to help, trying to avoid peering at the sunlight streaming through the windows.
"Alright. Everyone, get your bearings." Avery turned to his crew, rolling his shoulders to dispel his weakness. "To your stations people, don't slack off now. Get started on an atmospheric reading, if there's radiation or toxins I wanna know immediately."
"Yes sir." the requisite sailor nodded and turned to his post, prompting others to recover and focus.
"Number one, go down the chain at each level, and get a full inspection of every system we have. If there's any change whatsoever, inform me immediately. Doesn't matter how tiny it is." Avery snapped off next.
"You got it skipper." Hamill saluted and marched out of the room. He was delayed a moment by Irons helping to awaken the stirring boy, tapping the sailor's cheeks to rouse him, and he nodded in satisfaction before walking off.
"Environmental seals?" Avery moved on, holding his gaze when Irons helped the sailor to his feet.
"Still good sir, we're practically a submarine."
"Helm is green. I'm detecting a magnetic north, setting a temporary alignment marker."
"Radar is functional, near as I can tell without pinging the entire area."
"Reactor green, reading a power outage in aft compartments. Temperature is within normal parameters."
"Sir, catapult hydraulics are reporting a pressure drop off from a busted line."
As the Americans chattered Marimo crossed her arms behind her back, trying not to peek outside just yet. Though she didn't look like it, her spine was crawling; she and everyone else involved in this mission was assured repeatedly that it would work, that they could enter an entirely new universe with no ill effects. Three probes over a week gave the impression this place would support them perfectly; water salinity that was within old boundaries, an atmosphere of perfectly normal composition, exactly standard gravity, and a dozen other things which claimed it was viable. Clips showing a shoal of fish supposedly cinched matters for the brass.
She felt otherwise. The New United Nations security council may have felt this endeavor to be worth risking an entire carrier (even with it running on a skeleton crew), but Marimo couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Her anxiety being due to the rather disconcerting travel method crossed her mind, a possibility she decided to rule out; the cause had to be the one blight on the too rosy summary of the Bridge experiments.
Said cause made Avery sigh before moving onto the last issue of his ship's operation. "Comms?"
Without a doubt the couple sailors by the radio stations hesitated, sparing an uncertain look at each other when they lowered their headsets. The lead one stood up from her chair to face him, turning paler than before entering the portal, or even immediately afterwards.
"Sir, there's transmissions across the spectrum, civilian and military channels. Traffic on AM and FM frequencies is consistent with the pre-departure briefing." she reported grimly.
"Are the languages still Arabic and French?" he asked in the same tone.
"Yes sir." she confirmed. Avery closed his eyes, exhaling through his nostrils. Marimo unwittingly copied him.
There were people here. The last probe picked up on that detail, although she was sure the other two did as well. Radio traffic could be hidden or downplayed, but a clip of a plane flying over the scouting zone was impossible to omit without consequences, ones the Americans were unwilling to accept. Not even the seismic results confirming no BETA presence could bury that troubling fact.
"Sir, atmo readings are clear. We can open the windows at any time." a sailor interrupted.
Sparing an uncertain glance at the bridge's side hatch, currently encased by rubber lining and warning stickers, he nodded slowly. "Send out the NBC team."
Marimo cautiously approached the front observation windows, peering down to the flight deck as much as she was able. Far from the conn tower, a section of the deck lowered slowly, a side elevator for maintenance now put to use as part of a makeshift airlock. Minutes later several figures in bulky airtight suits climbed out, helping each other stand before hauling up equipment. While she had little understanding of the gear itself, she knew enough to tell they were keen on their task. Gripping her elbows, she abruptly realized that the sailors too were watching them intently.
Finally one man lowered to a crouch, gently planting his scanner on the deck. When he rose the radio beside Marimo crackled, the sudden noise startling several of the crew.
"Palmer to Bridge, come in."
Avery stepped forward to the mic. "This is Bridge, go ahead."
"Prelim results are in. Salinity is a bit high, seeing as we're on the ocean. Beyond that there's no contamination, radiation, or biological matter. Gas mix is consistent with pre-Day standards. This atmosphere is perfect."
Grins spread throughout the bridge, sailors high-fiving each other and whistling, Irons sighing raggedly with her wide smile, and Avery let a smirk come with his relieved exhale. Even the permanently dour Bressette allowed the corners of his mouth to tick up at the update. Marimo was no exception, breathing out at the good news. It wasn't fresh information, multiple probes already gave an all clear signal before they left, but hearing it on the ground (so to speak) was far different.
"Understood. Good work everyone." Avery said with a nod.
Spying a faraway team member yanking off his helmet, Marimo turned to square up her shoulders. "Captain sir. Do we proceed to phase two?"
"Correct Major Jinguuji. Get to the hangar and prep your team." Avery commanded, flicking over to her side. "Captain Bressette, we could use your help on the radio."
"It was my understanding your translation software was top notch. But I'm on it." he gave a perfunctory salute and walked to the requisite station.
Marimo saluted as well instead of tracking him; the American leadership (what was left of it rather) insisted on inviting the Franco-Canadian alliance into this venture, and Bressette was the man they sent. Why him, apparently a TSF Pilot instead of any number of lesser government or military officials from either nation, she didn't understand. Although his coughing gave her a clue as to why.
In the meantime Avery nodded, and she strolled from the bridge at a decent march. On the way out she overheard someone say, "Looks like the el-tee's high school french wasn't needed after all."
Through cramped corridors now filling up with personnel, most of whom either didn't acknowledge her presence or gave her a tiny berth, she traversed the maze of a ship without a word. Marimo was fine with it; there was too much on her mind to be caught by small talk. Partly because she had to stop and backtrack, muttering a curse for taking a wrong turn. Internally she regretted leaving a map of the ship's interior in her quarters, where it couldn't help her navigate this labyrinth.
Some relief came in the form of glass panes in a main corridor, slowing her pace to examine them. Plaques and encased photos lined a section of a wall, what she skimmed with curiosity, until she discovered they were the Lexington's history. The evacuation of Lisbon, the defense of Oslo, a culling operation in Hamburg, the battle of Gdańsk, celebrating its nuclear reactor retrofitting, the defense of Tel Aviv, and at the farthest end... she snorted; the battle of the Philippine Sea, in 1944. Not far from where the Bridge experiments were carried out, a little too close to the Mandalay Hive's former location by her reckoning.
Still, the irony of Marimo being on a ship that once fought against her country wasn't lost on her.
Shaking her head, she moved on. Marimo didn't dwell on that war, as far as she was concerned it was ancient history. Some in the American population (and more than she liked in the Japanese) tried to use the Second World War to protest the two nation's close relationship since the Day, either not understanding the world's state, or just not caring. She knew full well that America needed Japan and vice versa if anybody was going to survive. Especially with... she clenched a fist rather than linger on the incident which brought her here. Right now she had a job to do.
Entering the hangar itself after another backtrack, she closed a hatch behind her and strolled through the seemingly cramped space. There was actually a lot of room within the Lexington's interior, but a few hundred crewmen, tons upon tons of equipment of every size and shape, and nine giant mechs made the place seem much smaller than what it was. Marimo crossed via a designated walkway towards a gathering, situated between the American and Japanese sides of the deck. As she walked several people at her destination picked up, jumping to their feet to come to attention.
Halting a few paces away, Marimo returned a salute from four young people and a middle aged man in greasy fatigues, crossing her arms as another few men and women strode to a spot a body's length away. Lacing her arms behind her back, she nodded approvingly at the mismatched four standing in a line, sparing a glance at the waiting Americans.
"Wardog Squadron, are we prepared to depart?" she began, noting they were already in their fortified suits. They and the Americans alike, the revealing outfits similar yet subtly different from each other.
"Final inspections have just finished. We're ready Major Jinguuji." First Lieutenant Hibiki Tatsunami reported concisely, head tipped back a few degrees because of his short stature. His russet tinted face appeared a little flushed she observed, something he shared with the others down the line, particularly on the last member. But apart from some sweat, he displayed no indicators of fear. None of them did; the dark haired and almost petite Yuzuka Sendou, caucasian and blonde Ellen Aice, and childlike Shizuku Miono, who truly looked her young age in this environment. All looked determined for their mission.
"Ma'am, I went through the entire checklist, even started up the engines to test the fuel. Your Type Ninety Four is working perfectly." her chief mechanic told her. He was an older man, streaked with grey yet not many wrinkles, and like many of the personnel here not part of her usual team.
"Excellent work." Marimo flicked behind them, to the grey painted giant in its berth being serviced by multiple crewmen. Long arms and legs, broad shoulders, and a rounded head topped by swept back antenna, the Type-94 Shiranui stood at just over eighteen meters tall, a third generation Tactical Surface Fighter built to take the fight to all enemies of Japan. This one (dented and its paint scuffed to her displeasure) lacked weapons at the moment, but that would change when they left the ship. She let her gaze linger on the equipment on its forearms and shins, various sensor gear bolted on to gather data on this new world. Meaning extra drag to reduce her speed and agility she mentally added.
"While we won't know for sure until you're airborne, everything appears to be in order. The only trouble was with this gear, I had a hard time getting those computers to talk to your OS. But I had the same hassle when I worked on some American Eagles a few months back. It's nothing new." he assured confidently.
One of the Americans, a stubbled Chinese featured man in his late twenties, stepped forward to clasp his hands behind his back. She faced him to nod; technically she had no authority over them, but it never hurt to show proper decorum.
"Ma'am, Black Knives second flight is ready to move out." he reported in perfect English. His name was Chen if she remembered right, a First Lieutenant under Liliana Kjellberg, acting as her second in command. She herself was currently back in Seattle as per orders, literally a world away. What was important now was that her handpicked squadron had backup, and she could think of worse help than US Marines.
Sparing a look at the F-18E Super Hornet in a berth adjacent to her Shiranui, she examined the burly machine who's performance rivaled her own, painted a darker shade of blue to the old UN standard. Leaving that thought aside, she nodded both to him and the TSF. There were four here instead of the full eight, seconded here after the Lexington's USN Salt Goblins squadron was lost in the JFK Hive operation; officially dispatching only half of the Black Knives was to minimize potential losses, something she was sure was true. But that was for them, deploying one of the most skilled units left in the Imperial Military as well was a wholly separate matter.
Marimo knew exactly who sent them here, and was poignantly aware that Imperial command wouldn't be unduly troubled if they didn't come back. But for the time being she set aside her hatred for the orchestrator of her fall from grace, the hand behind the throne, and focused on her task.
"Alright, I know everyone here was briefed, but I want to go over the mission one more time." Marimo began in english, catching Yuzuka translating for Shizuka; the young pilot made great strides in the past few months, but english fluency still escaped her. "Wardog Squadron will reconnoiter this region for two hours time, to a range of two hundred kilometers. We're to identify topography, watch for local flora and fauna, and locate a suitable zone for large scale colonization. Along the way those sensors." she waved to the extra equipment on the Shiranui. "Will be checking the atmosphere beyond the entry zone. While we're busy there, the Lexington will be doing its own work on atmospheric and geographic conditions. In six hours all of us will be here to head back home if this place isn't viable. Black Knives, you'll be on standby in case we run into trouble."
She paused a second, inhaling once before deciding on a sudden addition to the plan.
"Eishi Shizuku, you'll remain here." she ordered.
Shizuku balked, recoiling with a whiny cry as the others did a double take. "Nani?! Why?"
Marimo held up a hand. "This is a risky mission, I don't want any unforeseen problems to crop up. I have full confidence in your abilities, but this calls for experienced pilots. Until then I want you on standby with the Black Knives. If anything happens, we'll be counting on you to assist us."
Shizuku stood up straight, face scrunched up unhappily. As much as that look pained her, Marimo had to set her concern aside, especially when Aice took her hand to squeeze a moment.
"One more thing. If you establish visual contact on locals, do not engage. Call it in and return to the Lexington. Understood?" she checked, receiving a round of nods. "Any questions?"
None met her. Marimo nodded in satisfaction, spying a small prefab suite erected nearby, a welcome consideration; she changed into her fortified suit in open areas before, but privacy was always better. Spinning on her heels, she quickly made her way over to the enclosed room, clacking the thin door behind her before making sure her outfit was ready.
"Just a recon flight, all it is." she muttered while changing, placing her uniform in a duffel as she put her limbs into the thick flight suit. Minutes later she sealed it up and made sure her spare jacket was safe, then exited with a breath. Under the outfit her skin bristled no matter what she did. "Just a recon flight."
In no time at all she was in her Shiranui, the cockpit's hatch closing with a hiss. Lights flicked on as a hum brought her TSF to life, screens flashing before displaying the surroundings. Short rail lines rolled her machine to the elevator alongside its partner, which her systems identified as Hibiki's. When the rails paused a ping came from her console, interrupting her habitual restraint inspection. A flicked hand from adjusting her jaw brace answered the call, four panes springing to life on her panel.
"Wardog One, check one two." Hibiki began, his young face wrinkled.
"I read you Wardog Two. Everyone else?" Marimo felt along her restraint lanyards, finding them good. That done she gripped her controls to test their responsiveness.
"Status green One." Aice reported quickly, her pane flickering a moment when she lifted her arms to an extending platform. A crane behind Marimo's Shiranui attached a Type-74 PB CIWS (a lot of terminology for a katana-esque sword used by Japanese TSFs) to her mount pylon, leaving her hands free to grab a pair of Type-87 assault cannons, the guns' systems quickly syncing to her onboard computers. Ammo counters appeared on her retinal HUD, rising swiftly when the berth's automated sub-arms inserted magazines into hip compartments. A process that was repeated beside her, although Hibiki only took one rifle instead of her dual weapons.
For a moment she considered dumping the sword altogether to save weight, but upon thinking it over she shook her head. Who knew what she'd face out there? Peering to the side, she saw the first Super Hornet apparently have the same idea, attaching a pair of AMWS-21 rifles to its pylons, and grabbing another set for the hands. She wryly questioned if that Marine used to be an Intruder pilot.
"All good One." Yuzuka chimed in, static flickering her image when she stepped onto the elevator, rising into open air. She flinched at the bright light assaulting her vision before her camera filtered out the glare.
"Status nominal Wardog One." Shizuku said glumly, her expression matching the tone. Marimo grimaced during her walk out of the entry zone, moving her Shiranui as gently as possible across the Lexington's deck to keep from damaging it, her partner copying her the best he could. Flight crew were pouring from the conn tower, guiding her and Hibiki to an empty spot. The static lessened when the elevator descended behind her, retrieving the rest of the squadron.
Marimo sighed when she reached her designated zone. "Its nothing personal. I believe you can do this, but if anything happens, I want you safe and sound Miono."
"I know, but still." she protested with a sigh.
"Take it easy Shizuku, we'll be okay." Hibiki spoke up in a hopeful tone. "I'm sure nothing will happen anyway."
"It'll be fine, you'll see. I'm betting the people here will be nice and friendly." Yuzuka smiled, rolling her shoulders.
"Now you jinxed it." Aice joked, bringing forth soothing grins.
"One can hope they'll be good." Marimo smiled. She sighed when her console pinged again, revealing a data package from the bridge, probably their preliminary weather forecast. She hit the download icon, finally sparing a look outwards.
Shimmering blue met a white strewn sky in every direction, the reflected sunlight's glare weakened to tolerable levels thanks to her filters. A standard ocean view that she stopped appreciating when tsunamis finished what the BETA started. But far away, what caught her gaze was a green and brown shore, a hilly landmass stretching in both directions as far as the eye could see. A new land was just a few dozen kilometers from her position, eliciting a brief shiver. Keeping the implications at arm's length was proving to be a hard task.
Her radio clicked with a much needed distraction. "Wardog flight, status."
Spying the other two Shiranuis rising upwards, Marimo hit her reply button. "We're ready on our end Bridge."
"Copy. Be advised, we're reading short-wave radio traffic to the south. There may be bystanders nearby." Avery reported.
"Understood. I'll take that direction then. Wardog Two, you head north. Three, go west. Four, east." Marimo ordered.
"Roger." her team responded.
"I'll have both Seahawks prepped just in case. You find anything, report it immediately."
"Acknowledged." Marimo rolled her shoulders, idly watching crewmen waving glowing rods to guide Yuzuka's and Aice's Shiranuis behind hers, making room for the elevator to start bringing up the Super Hornets. When the first blue TSF was in sight, she hit her radio. "Control Actual, requesting permission for takeoff."
"Permission granted Wardog Squadron, you are cleared for launch. T-minus one mike, mark." said a traffic control officer instead of Avery.
"Roger control." Marimo hesitated, then activated her channel again. "Wardog Squadron. Remember to keep an eye on your fuel gauges, that extra equipment will be weighing you down, and we're a long ways from resupply."
"Copy that Wardog One. You stay safe out there." Yuzuka said.
She inhaled deeply. "You too. All of you."
A chime had Marimo grip her controls tightly, her jump units roaring to life. "Launch, good luck Wardogs."
Throttling up the engines was a basic affair, she did it a thousand times before. With the Shiranui she had to be a little gentler than what her flight training taught; this one was far touchier than her long gone Type-77 Gekishin, or even an F-15E Eagle she practiced on almost a year ago, as part of a joint drill with the US Army. At least now she knew the Shiranui's quirks, not stumbling over its differences compared to her old Phantom. She smiled upon remembering the two unlucky Americans who tried to test her TSF, neither one able to even hover due to the finicky controls. The fact their first Shiranui flight went about as well as hers was left out during the drills. Things would've went smoother had they been given time on the IJA's Fubuki trainer TSF, like her UN trainees.
Marimo's smile faded when she remembered those days. When she was preoccupied by making sure her charges were ready for the challenges ahead, ignoring the political tightrope they danced on. When all that mattered was ensuring that her six students were trained as well as she could make them, knowing how to fight against mankind's enemy, and that they wouldn't make the same mistakes she did. And within months of their commissioning ceremony, four of them were gone. And the last two...
She stopped the trip down memory lane, rippling fingers on her yokes. Perhaps later she could dwell on old memories, but right now, she had a mission to save what remained of mankind. Her demons could wait to haunt her later.
For now she fed more power into her jump units, keeping her Shiranui from veering sideways as she cleared the surface. In seconds she was firmly airborne over the Lexington, right behind Yuzuka and Aice climbing from the flight deck, and just before Hibiki's ascent. All four hovered in place a moment, each pilot swiveling to their assigned directions. With the low windspeed and the scattered cloud cover, this was almost a perfect day for flying.
One by one they departed. As she ordered Aice blasted off eastwards, Yuzuka headed west, and Hibiki waited a second prior to going north. For Marimo herself, she pointed her Shiranui at the shoreline and laid on her throttle, swiftly picking up speed. G-forces pressed her against her seat, tightening her strained breathing; she told herself that her huffing respiration was due to her velocity, what no fortified suit could fully compensate for. It felt like a lie even to herself.
But instead of focusing on that, she eyed her altimeter out of habit, making sure she didn't break the hundred meter mark. Even if there were no Laser Class BETA here, she didn't want to make herself an easy target. Shaking her head, she brushed a strand of hair out of the way to clear her vision, swiveling between readouts and the view. Below her craft the sea blazed past in a hazy sheen, waves and light blending together to make a palette of lightening blue.
Closer and closer she flew to the shoreline, making out what looked like a road some distance from the beach. Marimo pursed her lips once she crossed the rocky shore, but until she was over land she didn't want to make assumptions. For all she knew it was an animal trail. Except animals usually didn't make paths that large, and there was a bunch of...
"Oh hell." Marimo winced when she soared overhead. Twisting her head around, she tried to relocate what she saw: a line of vehicles parked in the middle of the road, swiftly hidden by a dust cloud she unwittingly kicked up.
Gritting her teeth, she tightened her grips while slowing down, forcing herself to breath. The numbers and arrangement she saw made her think she just buzzed a military convoy. Sure enough her radio pinged from a fresh transmission just seconds later, an icon popping up that claimed 'unknown source,' making her growl in self reproach.
"Alright, let's do this." she rapped a knuckle on her comm line button.
Rapid speech filled her cockpit, what she understood little of but recognized clearly as French. After the border wars she'd know that language anywhere. Sighing through clenched teeth, Marimo activated her translator.
"-say again, this is Echo unit to the machine who flew over my convoy. State your name and nationality." spoke an overlaid synthetic voice in Japanese. Enough of the speaker's tone (a man by the sound of him) filtered through to tell her he didn't sound pleased.
Banking around, Marimo kept the channel open on her way back to the convoy. This time she hugged low and slow, fighting instincts that told her to duck behind these hills, what she saw would offer little cover against hostile fire. Her radar display didn't leave her vision for more than a couple seconds at a time, currently showing nothing in the immediate vicinity.
"Echo Unit, state your name-" she halted, squeezing her eyes shut a moment with a mumbled curse. Making sure her translator was on, she repeated herself in an unintentionally harsh tone. "Echo Unit, state your name and nation of origin. You have thirty seconds to comply, mark."
Several seconds passed before her translator churned out a reply. "We are part of the one forty ninth Panzergrenadier Brigade. Again, identify yourself."
"Panzergrenadier?" Marimo repeated with a puzzled frown. Those were Germans? But they were speaking french? Groaning to herself, she decided to find out more; Avery would throw a fit if she didn't call in first, but she assumed they had anti-air munitions locked onto her Shiranui already. Not that she was afraid of missiles per se, but buzzing a unit then running off would send the wrong message, and she didn't want to botch things more than necessary.
Of course, that just left the issue of her violating the orders she stressed to her squadron, but as a Major she was best qualified to handle a contact meeting anyway. She groaned at how weak that excuse sounded.
This time Marimo was sure to go slowly over the unit, taking in as much detail as possible. There were six parked vehicles, four bulky APCs similar to the Imperial Army's Type-96 transports but a little taller, and at the front and rear, two trucks she immediately recognized as French Army VBLs. Blinking to make sure, she realized there were infantry clustered around the transports, and she winced at the dust she kicked up swallowing them again.
Sighing apologetically, Marimo swiveled the Shiranui to face them and throttled down. When her TSF thumped from the landing she cut power to the jump units, automatically ensuring they were still primed in case she needed to flee. That done, she shifted one foot to a more stable position at the ground below crumbling, adjusting the other limbs to stabilize her as best as possible. The entire time she trained her rifles on the unit, safeties off yet keeping her fingers away from the triggers. The unknown soldiers down below returned the favor, although little they had that she saw would hurt her machine before they died.
"No." she muttered, shaking her head; for all she knew they had particle cannons and black hole bombs. Nevertheless she activated her external loudspeaker, watching many of the men flinch at the sound. "Echo Unit, identify your leader."
Marimo waited then, tracking the plainly intimidated men shift in place. They had what looked like ordinary rifles, clad in flat beige fatigues suitable for the environment, although not as good as true camouflage. Her grips tightened when she spied a couple MANPAD launchers behind an APC, both pointed right at her. But just as she adjusted her aim to them, she saw one dart inside a truck to retrieve something, bringing it to an unarmed soldier.
Her gaze tracked that man, likely an officer, as he left the safety of behind an APC to enter her view, hefting a megaphone to mouth level. A brief squawk of the device almost made her pull the triggers in surprise.
"Captain Matthias Bindl of the one forty ninth Panzergrenadier brigade, North African Command." said the man, his words rendered dull and lifeless through her translator.
Marimo pursed her lips. A germanic sounding name, he said panzer, yet he spoke french, and drove what she had every reason to suspect were French Army vehicles. And North Africa? That wasn't an answer she expected, although she knew precious little about that region. She wasn't sure how exactly to approach this situation, especially since this convoy looked like a counter-insurgency patrol she heard the French did on the East Coast, if a little large for such a role. But if this wasn't a COIN operation, then why were they here? Scouts?
Unless...
Her guts clenched when she hit her mic, her deepening breathing preventing her from replying promptly. The idea grabbed at her thoughts and refused to let go.
"Are you at war?" she questioned sternly.
The man paused, her magnifying camera showing his clean shaven features (actually a rather handsome man, before she brushed that observation aside) wrinkling into a frown upon hefting his megaphone. "We are."
"How long?" she demanded, jaw clenched. Her mind raced; the probe's seismic readings claimed there were no BETA signs, but she had plenty of experience with faulty sensor equipment, to say nothing of its limited range. It crossed her mind that she was perhaps jumping the gun as the Americans say, but she needed to be sure. For everyone's sake, she had to be.
"Roughly a year." he answered after shifting his weight.
Marimo let her Shiranui's arms fall, catching those men observe her movements with befuddlement. Sighing through her gritted teeth, she undid her restraints.
"Stupid, don't." she protested fruitlessly under her breath, freeing herself from her harness to stand up, having to hunch over. With that done she tapped the hatch controls, unsealing her cockpit with a hiss of released pressure, the pod shuddering as it slid out. Warm dusty air swam inside, buffeting her at the salty gust that swept over the interior, inadvertently making her ears pop.
Before she unloaded her rappel line to get to the ground, she rooted around under her seat for the emergency survival kit; a case of food, water, medicine, and a radio, sealed in a hardy case attached to the cockpit's powered exoskeleton. The IJA ceased producing these kits for new TSFs after the BETA invasion, learning as the Europeans and Soviets did that a downed pilot would be dead or rescued long before they actually needed the supplies. Hers was a holdover from an old stockpile she was lucky enough to acquire. But there was one addition to her case however, the object of her wary attention.
Lifting the ugly lump of metal to chest level, Marimo gripped the Minebea .45 in one hand while her other drew the slide back, putting a round in the chamber. This pistol, combined with her fortified suit's minor bullet resistance, would grant just enough protection for her to get back into her Shiranui. Or likely not, but she decided to take solace in those anyway, stepping out to grab her handholds. With one last sigh at her own foolishness, she made certain her chin brace was synced to her TSF's translation software, and stepped into the open.
Bright sunlight assaulted her eyes, causing her to squint heavily while her vision adjusted. Grit somehow found its way into her mouth, crunching her tongue on her teeth whenever she breathed, and the omnipresent salt was the last thing she needed now. Groaning from that hated taste, she beheld the rocky shoreline as her whirring line descended, pistol by her side all the way down.
Sightseeing ended when she saw the officer detach himself from his unit, for whatever reason limping towards her parked Shiranui. His pace was slow and cautious, either from his leg acting up (a prosthesis maybe?) or to not startle her, maybe both. A gun on a hip holster caught her eye, making sure his raised hands were well away from the weapon before she allowed herself to check the rest. With the bright sun, she was able to make out tiny flickers across his expression; he couldn't be afraid of her, could he?
No. Marimo saw it when he stopped about four meters away, his eyes darting towards then away every couple seconds. Not at the machine or her face, but her chest, right where the elastic fortified suit was at its most skintight. Internally she cursed, wishing she grabbed her jacket. Luckily for him he straightened up when she trained her Minebea on his torso, clearing his throat to tap on his breast pocket.
"I am Captain Matthias Bindl." he greeted, catching her off guard; he spoke in English. Badly accented, but legible all the same. Marimo narrowed her brow, but at the same time she was happy to not rely on her translator more than necessary. Upon seeing his poorly restrained grimace, she copied his tap without lowering her weapon.
"Major Jinguuji Marimo." she introduced flatly. Distantly she wondered why he chose to use english; he wasn't listening in to their transmissions, right?
She dismissed the thought for the time being. This Captain Bindl person was in his late twenties or early thirties, blond and fair toned like she expected of a german, and to her distaste he had a head's worth of height on her. As she watched he coughed, or cleared his throat, she wasn't sure which.
"Français? Deutsch?"
"No, few words. English here." Marimo shook her head, not letting her gaze fall. If he felt confident enough to greet her in that, then it was good enough to carry out a conversation. But firstly, her biggest concern. What made her put herself at such a huge risk. "Tell me about the war."
"Ah, we've been at war for a year now, as I said." he told her, brow wrinkled. He was stumbling over his words, so he wasn't used to speaking this language. That information she filed away for later.
"Where?" she questioned, tightening her grip.
When he carefully pointed a finger to the west she followed his cue, without losing track of him. She didn't know if he'd try something after all. But still, where he indicated left her curious, and not in a good way.
"An enemy army is approaching Mostaganem, a hundred kilometers or so that way." Captain Bindl told her, lowering his hand.
Marimo returned her gaze to him, lifting her brow. That wording, did that mean...
"You're fighting humans?" she asked to make sure.
"Yes? The Britannians want to conquer this entire continent." he frowned, as if she was the one talking nonsense. Still she felt the urge to slump, happy to hear that the BETA weren't here too. Sure this meant there were a thousand other problems to deal with, but she could rest easy knowing there were no... wait.
"Britannian…" Marimo suddenly repeated, raising her brow. They were at war with the British? A Franco-German alliance against the United Kingdom here in North Africa?
Just what kind of place did she arrive at?
Captain Bindl slowly dropped his arms, though her aim didn't leave his chest. "Major, just who are you? And what is this thing?"
She didn't trust him whatsoever, but she felt he needed some answers. Gods knew she did. Reluctantly lowering the Minebea, she decided on the basics.
"I'm with the Imperial Japanese Army, Seventeenth Flight Wardogs. This is my Shiranui." Marimo explained, nodding to her machine.
Zero recognition showed on his face. That puzzled her, and gave rise to yet more questions; did they have nothing like Tactical Surface Fighters here? His reaction supported that assumption, but she couldn't be certain. Or was he confused about her being Japanese? Did Japan exist here? Too little information. Then again, she suddenly worried if she was being unclear.
"Did you understand me?" she checked with a frown.
"Yes, but… Imperial?" Captain Bindl shook his head, sighing in what she had every reason to assume was irritation. "If you're Japanese Major, how do you not recognize the Britannians?"
Marimo sent him a look bordering on hostility, particularly because of his quick glance over his shoulder. "Who are they?"
He gulped, dropping his head with a sigh. "They're, ah..."
"What's wrong?" she lifted a placating hand, but just in case this was a trap she didn't move. There was always the possibility he was trying to bait her into making a mistake, so-
Captain Bindl froze. He stopped moving instantly, eyes slowly widening, breath coming in shallower and faster. Marimo unwittingly copied him, recognizing that look. Like a wild animal sensing danger. For she felt it too now, a charge to the air that wasn't there a moment ago. Were she an infantryman she was sure her combat instincts would be much sharper, but even as a pilot she knew what a battle felt like right before it started. When he gulped, she tensed up.
"Major, get back inside right now." he warned.
Gunfire boomed from a nearby direction, the air turning to cascading lead instantly. Marimo ducked with a curse, diving for her rappel as fast as her legs could carry her, feeling rather than seeing dusty soil be kicked up by whistling bullets. Sharp pings came from rounds striking off her TSF's leg armor, ricocheting off to pass right by her skin. Just as she grabbed a hold to hit the recall switch, a stray bullet smacked her on the shoulder pad, wrenching her around with a pained snarl. Feeling her vision swim from the stinging impact, she aimed in the shooter's rough direction and fired her Minebea, knowing she wasn't going to hit anything but not caring, and when her sidearm's slide locked back she tossed it away without a second thought. The scant few seconds spent returning to her cockpit felt like an eternity.
Immediately after her feet hit a panel she closed the pod, slamming into her seat as the hatch sealed behind her. With the hull chattering in a high pitched jingle, she fired up her power systems as fast as possible, cursing the two second delay between the pod's seal and her screens activating. But once she was able to look outside, Marimo discovered their unseen attackers had already reaped a toll on these guys, igniting an APC and leaving several men dead on the ground.
Then she saw what they fought, and hated herself for doing a double take.
Below there were four machines zipping over a hill, all stopping to peer at her activating Shiranui. Beige mechs streaked by grime, standing upright on two legs with skate-like motors on their feet, kicking up dust from small wheels. Those connected to boxy limbs attached to rectangular torsos, sporting large backpacks the size of a civilian car, all topped by cyclopean heads. Three of them were armed with bulky machine guns, with the last hefting a lengthy cannon under one arm. Small arms fire pinged off their hulls as she watched them cease shooting, seemingly gawking at her presence.
"So, miniature TSFs." Marimo said quietly. There was no way those things were taller than five meters, but not for a second did she let herself think they were harmless.
For a moment she considered turning on her loudspeaker again to tell them to stand down. This wasn't her fight, she didn't know what side she contacted, she didn't even know who any of these people were. All she had was some contextless information that might as well be useless. But when all four attackers raised their weapons, she let the opportunity pass.
Whipping her Shiranui's arms up, Marimo laid on the triggers; automatic fire caught two machines before they could react, thirty six AP rounds ripping through their armor as easily as a squiggling Tank Class. For a second the pair stood in place with gaping holes in their torsos, before they unexpectedly exploded in a concussive blast. Wondering if she accidentally hit their fuel supply, she relocated the other two turning tail to run, and for that she took aim via her weapon's secondary barrels. She nailed both Mini-TSFs with one twenty HEAT rounds suited for armored vehicles, splitting them apart in twin fireballs.
Marimo's sensors detected infantry running away, but she felt she did enough damage. Letting her Shiranui's head fall on the ravaged convoy, she activated her comm line, and braced herself for a well earned reaming.
"Wardog One to Lexington, come in." she began, wincing.
"This is Lexington, go ahead."
Marimo debated on her wording, deciding on the bandaid treatment. "I've made contact with a local faction. I rendered armed assistance when they came under attack by an unknown foe."
The line went silent. There was a scuffle, then Avery's voice came on, as cold as ice.
"Say again Wardog One, did not catch that." he practically growled.
Sighing, she closed her eyes to shake her head at her own recklessness. "I came under fire from an unknown foe, so I... I'll return to the ship as soon as-
Powerful explosions suddenly bloomed over her Shiranui, throwing her back with a cry. Her TSF lurched from the blows, only staying upright by automated gyros compensating for the imbalance, yanking her so much she almost fell out of her seat. Snarling, she peered out of her flickering screens to find more Mini-TSFs, a dozen of the little machines racing over the hills with weapons blazing.
"Wardog One, respond!"
"I'm under fire!" she snapped, about to take aim before a cannon round hit her shoulder armor, throwing off her aim.
"This is Wardog Two, we are inbound! ETA one minute, hang in there!" Hibiki's alarmed voice left her radio, punctuated by a ratcheting whirr of her knee servo buckling. In return she sprayed fire at a speeding Mini-TSF, only to curse at her rounds trailing just short.
"Copy, hurry!" Marimo ordered as she primed her jump units, until her screen unexpectedly winked out. Snarling in the darkness, she kicked at a panel that succeeded at restoring light to her cockpit, the sudden change stinging at her vision. Then her eyes went wide at seeing one foe lurch to a halt, pointing a machine gun at her head unit. If she were blinded she'd be easy prey for these people, unable to escape.
Without any warning explosions flashed against its chest, wobbling from multiple impacts that bloomed into fiery smoke. A second long flick of her eyes told Marimo where the shots were coming from; a parked VBL nearby with its turret still intact, firing too slowly to be a machine gun, yet it was too small to match an autocannon. A grenade launcher most likely. And behind the turret was... Captain Bindl? He gripped the weapon's triggers as it fired, his face contorted in a scream.
One blast took off the thing's head, causing it to slump forward limply. As the Mini-TSF died the backpack unexpectedly detached to blast away, what she assumed was a pilot ejection system. Her thoughts ended when she saw another take aim at the VBL; she raised her rifle to save that fool, but she knew already her sights wouldn't line up in time.
The beige Mini-TSF trained its weapon on the vehicle, then it seemingly popped open. All of a sudden there was a jagged hole in its torso, perforated all the way through. The explosion flashed in front of her eyes, Marimo processing that she didn't fire any sabot rounds. Then she saw the machine's comrades switch towards the sea, and felt a grin split her features.
"Just in time. Target the small mechs, leave the vehicles alone." Marimo barked, smirking as Wardogs Two, Three, and Four swooped in from the sea, Aice and Hibiki banking away to the right to surround them, letting Yuzuka take the left. With one gun apiece they were able to maintain a high degree of accuracy, firing in bursts at the newcomers. In seconds five Mini-TSFs went up in flames, shredded in the blink of an eye.
Reaffirming her grips, Marimo stomped her Shiranui forward across the dusty soil, both guns belching rounds right over the convoy's heads. First one, then two mechs blew up where they stood, even as they turned to flee. A part of her recognized the stray shots didn't just hit dirt, distantly aware of enemy rifle flashes ending when her guns swept over their positions. But she wasn't about to allow them to run so easily, switching to the one twenties to slam two remaining targets, the HEAT shells hitting their marks seconds after the third was perforated.
Laying off the triggers, Marimo inhaled deeply to steady herself, making sure there was no more fire before she allowed herself to unfocus. A shuddering breath preceded her companions landing in a diamond formation around the convoy, split between checking the area for more hostiles, and grimly inspecting the damage these locals took. Without meaning to she leaned on her controls, servos whining as if to protest their abuse.
"Wardog One, status?" Hibiki demanded first, his pane blinking onto her screen, followed immediately by Aice and Yuzuka. All three showed clear worry at her state.
Quickly overlooking her status, she groaned at the battering her Shiranui endured. "Banged up but I'll still fly. You?"
"All good, down half a mag and three shells." Yuzuka sighed.
Aice however rolled her shoulders to grin. "You okay Tatsunami? I don't think you hit anything."
"I, my targeting system glitched. I'll have to get it looked at when we get back." Hibiki replied quickly; Marimo noticed something in his voice, but chose not to confront it just yet.
"You didn't do so hot yourself." Yuzuka butted in.
"Better than you." she smirked, hearing her growl.
In the meantime, she spied Captain Bindl dropping against the side of his tattered vehicle, yelling something to another soldier, maybe a lower ranking officer. For the rest however, those who weren't wailing in pain or dead were busy quaking at the Shiranuis around them, unmistakably scared out of their minds. All in all, quite a mess.
Marimo hummed. Perhaps she could salvage this situation?
Her target gazed up when her loudspeakers crackled, gazing at the head unit she swiveled to his direction. "Captain Bindl, are you hurt?"
"I'm fine!" he yelled back in french, having to cup an uninjured hand around his mouth. She thought otherwise, but when he hollered at an approaching medic to scurry off, she decided not to press the issue.
"If you are able, my commanding officer wishes to speak to you. There are important matters that need to be discussed, for both your country and mine." Marimo paused, catching him flinching. "You have my word that you will not be harmed in any way."
Captain Bindl glanced away, needing a moment to notice another soldier darting up to him, this one's face betraying severe alarm. They spoke to each other a moment, their volume just below what her external microphone was able to catch. Whatever he said caused the latter to slink back, and with apparently great effort he dragged himself back to his feet.
"I agree to your request!"
"One?" Yuzuka asked cautiously, sharing her frown with Hibiki and Aice.
"Thank you. My subordinates will remain here to protect you until assistance arrives." flicking her mic off to her radio, she spared an apologetic wince at her companions' portraits. "Sorry for this. Wardog One to Lexington, come in."
"Wardogs, status." Avery demanded tightly.
"Status nominal. I'm a little dented but alright." Marimo rippled her fingers. "I've established contact with a local military officer, a man named Captain Bindl. He agreed to meet with you."
"Hang on, meet?"
"We need intel, and if he can get in touch with his government, we may have an option here." Marimo reasoned in a calm tone.
"How were you able to talk to him?"
"Over loudspeaker." Marimo lied; she went too far as is, she didn't need to risk tripping the quarantine procedures. Upon thinking that, she consoled herself by remembering that she didn't get close to him, so she should be fine.
She held her breath when the line went silent, bracing herself when she heard a sigh. "Understood, I'm dispatching a Seahawk to your location. Remain on standby. And for the love of god, don't get into any more trouble. Lexington out."
"Acknowledged, Wardog One out." Marimo took a breath, happy to have something go right. Who knew, if things weren't crazy she could find herself in Japan again by month's end.
Except, who were these Britannians? And why did he seem surprised at her lack of knowledge? Marimo resolved herself to find out all she could.
A/N: okay, two points. First, thanks for reading this far, but if you just skipped to the end, shame on you.
Second, as mentioned up top this story is a new experience. Its an anthology style thing unless I'm mistaken. So to make things even worse, what I'm going to do here is put out an invite to you guys for ideas; I have five, maybe six ideas for chapters (including a couple focused on Lelouch, obviously), but there may be aspects of the setting I've overlooked, or there's characters or concepts you would like to see explored. There's also omakes to do, but I'd prefer actual story ideas. Stuff that expands the setting basically.
To keep this from being cheap review bait, I'll ask you to submit prompts or suggestions via PM. I do have to say that I may not be able to use them, it depends on the idea, but unless its something like "have America drop canned sunshine on Britannia" I don't see much reason why I can't. Submissions will be granted credit and a shoutout. To make sure all my bases are covered, I'll write the ideas, unless you really wanna jot down something yourself.
Okay, a third: thank you for reading this. I appreciate it, I really do.