Archangel's Amazing Adventures

by CSS Stravag

Mass Crossover fic. Chapter 51 UP! Powerful magic draws the Archangel and the ZAFT Creuset Team into a world of magic and intrigue like nothing imagined by the straight-laced CE residents. Their battles on Cephiro are only the beginning of their nightmarish journey as they give Odysseus a run for his money in the 'bizarre trip home' category...

23. The Waiting Line

(Section 3, Chapter 07: The Waiting Line)

Simple plan.

Complex execution.

Strangely typical for the Archangel, Murrue figured.

"And this is where it gets tricky. We have the guaranteed support of Figaro and its lands. Two regiments. We should have little issue getting the support of Doma. Two more regiments, and Doma's troops are crack troops. Four regiments infantry and support are not going to be enough, even counting us into the invasion plan," Murrue concludes. "I figure six regiments minimum, preferably more if we can factor more into it."

"Six, seven regiments, minimum," King Edgar notes with a hint of depression. "And that if they don't catch us out on the open field. Were that the case, we would need upwards of fifteen regiments to hammer through their forces on hand," he completes his estimation sourly.

"That means we have to try and get forces from the Independent States to the east," Mu notes, looking over the maps. "Kohlingen, Jidoor, Zozo and their lands. Are they capable?"

"Kohlingen region, not likely, not more than a battalion," Edgar notes. "Jidoor definitely has the financial power to do it, but their population is kind of thin. Zozo, well, the only thing I have heard of that town is that it is the crime capital of the world. There may be no official government there, if it is half as bad as the rumors. But..."

"But what? Something up?" Mu asks in reply.

"But, we may be able to hire out an irregular formation from Zozo if we can find enough people brave enough to try it," he notes.

"Use Jidoor's financial backing as leverage to hire mercenaries? Interesting way to go about it," Natarle notes wryly. Something about the way she had said it twigged Mu's senses, but he was not sure why offhand.

"It will have to go that way," Edgar replies immediately. "My kingdom can do a lot with technology, but the Empire is as far ahead of us as you are ahead of the Empire."

"Oh," Murrue never really considered the disparity between the groups in that fashion, but it made sense.

"You have a pair of factories in your territory," Yzak notes. He had been included in the briefing and strategics, as it was his brain that had saved the ship's bacon more than once. They wanted Athrun as well, but Athrun was still laid up in the med bay. "It will be years before the Empire can do complex electronics, much less Figaro, but what about using intermediate firearms? I've toured the factory in South Figaro, it's a drop-forging metal foundry and factory, with some work we could use it to produce early bolt-action rifles," he notes.

"How long would it take to outfit two regiments with rifles?" Murrue asks. "And how hard would it be to also make some of the older machine guns?"

"I don't know. Depends on how high we can get the throughput at those factories, or if we could even get more going," Yzak replies. "Best guess, we could have a regiment outfitted by July, the other one by late August or early September," Yzak estimates.

"Too slow, that would put us campaigning in the winter. If we added a lot more personnel to the project?" King Edgar notes.

"Faster, maybe," Yzak notes. "We can design the systems by which you can outfit your army with weapons more comparable to ours, but they still aren't going to be a machine gun to each trooper. That's just way too complicated," Yzak notes. "As to machine guns, the Ma Deuce is the simplest machine gun we have, and it should do for the job," Yzak notes. "It may work..."

Edgar could only smile. "How effective would a mixed regiment of pikes and firearms be?"

"Forget pikes," Yzak replies immediately. "A bolt-action rifle with bayonet is far better than a pike or arquebus," he adds. "And you have the manufacturing capacity to build them, all we have to do is retask it, follow?"

King Edgar looks to Captain Ramius. "May I have the lease of Yzak and some other persons he may need to complete this as quickly as possible?"

"Yzak?" Captain Ramius asks.

"I'm in. I'll need a couple of the Mechanics, those that normally work on the Duel would be best. I think I can get the remainder from personnel already at the factory sites."

"Also, we should have Nicol and his mechanics tasked to building a third factory, for purpose of building LAWS weapons," Mu opines. "We're going to need lightweight, heavy firepower for taking down their Magitek units. I can't think of a better way than that," Mu says. "Too bad we can't have Athrun doing this as well," Mu notes.

"Yeah, true," Murrue says.

"We'll have it situated on the south shores, west of South Figaro. There are enough people in the area we can reallocate to it," King Edgar adds. "Is this how you fight wars?"

"This is how wars are supplied, King Edgar. Fighting them is a different story entirely," Yzak replies deadpan.

-x-x-x-

"Still in here, Nicol?" Commander La Flaga asks as he approaches the bed that Athrun was still situated at.

"No change," Nicol says by way of greeting.

"He won't be out for too long," Mu says as he grabs a seat next to the bed in question.

They were silent for several minutes.

"How's Fuu holding up?" Nicol asks.

"I think we have her cleared of the notion that she was at fault for Athrun's present condition," Mu replies. "Natarle actually had one of the most clever ways to go about it, a board of inquiry to cover the facts of the matter."

"Make it official and on the record that Fuu was not responsible for the incident and injuries to Athrun?" Nicol asks before the doc could.

"Yeah, that's basically it," Mu replies. "You going to be ready in a day or so to begin in on the factories?"

"I will be," Nicol replies in a soured tone. "I still can't believe we are doing this."

"We have to, unless you want to live here for the rest of your life?"

Nicol sighs. "We'd have to do this in either case, though."

"True, that," Commander La Flaga replies.

"Other than that, what else is going on?" Nicol asks, having hardly left the medical ward since the encounter with Tritoch days ago.

"Nothing huge," Mu replies automatically. "Umi tried pretty hard to rip Yzak's face off earlier today."

"Foul language again, I take it?" Nicol asks, unsurprised when he got a positive nod. "He'll learn...eventually."

"Or Umi will actually succeed in tearing his face off. Betting is in her favor right now, six-to-one odds."

Somehow, the sight of seeing a faceless Yzak and Umi stomping away holding the remnant was supremely amusing to Nicol for some reason. Not that it would happen exactly as he envisioned, but the thought was what counted.

"All the machines are in working order, so Murdoch and his team have been chillin' out. They took about two hundred empty two cubic meter crates, put holes in certain facings, and made a three-dimensional climbing maze. They charge five credits per try, person that gets through it in two minutes or less wins fifty credits."

"Can it be done?" Nicol asks.

"Yeah, but it will take you a few tries. They didn't make it easy, naturally," not to mention climbing and crawling through a tree-dimensional maze could be very disorienting unless you really paid attention.

"Thanks, commander," Nicol notes after a few seconds of silence.

"What for?"

"Few of us worry about each other when it hits the fan. Yet, you're here to check on Athrun and apparently more to check on me. Thanks," he replies.

"Sad but true," Captain Ramius notes as she steps up to the bed to look at Athrun, then check over his monitors. "Still no change?"

"No, not a movement," Nicol replies.

"How're you holding up, Nicol?" she asks as she takes a seat next to him but about a meter distant.

"All right, I guess," he replies. "All this time has given me a lot of time to think," he notes.

"And?" Captain Ramius asks.

"I don't think this is astronomical coincidence. Each time, we have been somewhere where we could help with the ongoing problems of the world in question, and...well..."

"You think someone is manipulating us, putting us in places where we can help the locals?"

"Maybe. I don't claim to know much about the Gods, or how they operate, and it's probably for the best. Still, I'd have to guess that something very powerful is causing this, and at a guess that power would have to be something along the lines of a God. Or greater."

"A god...the Rune Gods?" Captain Ramius asks.

"No, they were the first I knocked out of the running for this. If they were doing this, they would be effectively screwing themselves," Mu replies before Nicol could. "Remember, their physical arm, the Magic Knights, are stuck on this ship as well. If they were doing this, they'd be doing it to themselves just as fast."

"Oh, right," Captain Ramius replies. "But...why would a God want to...well...do this to us?"

"Comes back to my original disclaimer, Captain. I don't know, and even if I did there's no guarantee it would have any logic we could understand," Nicol notes.

"Oh," Captain Ramius notes. "Has anyone offended a God recently?"

"Not to my knowledge," Mu La Flaga replies. "You?"

"Nope," Captain Ramius replies.

"Entertainment purpose," the doctor adds to the conversation. "Maybe one just picked up on us and is doing this for entertainment purposes, basically."

"Could be," Mu notes. "Still, this is a bit much for a few laughs." The Commander's gesture encompassed the whole room, but more or less meant the whole trip.

"Gods would definitely have a different outlook on these matters, and that is where we come in," the doc replies. "I know, it is a cruel thing to say with the Rune Gods helping us, but a lot of the ancient Gods of the various tribes of humanity were like that. All this love, peace and purpose-based monotheism-based religion is a new advent, past three thousand years at the best. Prior to that, the Gods were portrayed in a far different fashion, and if those portrayals are true, then that is a lot of power and probably several thousand years of pent-up frustration to take out on we mortal pawns."

"The Doc definitely has a point," Nicol notes in surprise.

"Any way out of this?" Captain Ramius asks.

"If this is a God working on us, likely not. If it is random chance, likely not. We just keep trying, and maybe we shall get home someday," the Doc adds as he crowds in to check Athrun's monitors.

"So basically all we can do is hope we survive?" Commander La Flaga asks.

"That is all we can do in this case, except for making as much of our own luck as possible," the Doc adds.

-x-x-x-

The first factory was quite the large one. Crewed by around 200 persons from South Figaro and the rural areas around it, it was a metal processing and forging factory, with drop-forging equipment more or less exactly to spec of what they would need (with some modifications) to make the barrels and other metal components of the rifles. The second factory, actually built into Figaro Castle itself, would be the facility that produced the lovely brass cartridges that would give the infantry enough firepower to manhandle a sword-only force for lunch, and oh, by the way, a single rifle shot can render a Magitek Armor pilotless.

The third factory that Nicol would be setting up would be the real surprise for the Empire. A factory to build basic LAWS rockets and grenades, two things that would prove to be amazing force multipliers come the first pitched battles, and he would build them from the ground up. In a way Yzak envied him the task, though not a mechanical tinkerer to the degree Athrun and Kira were, he enjoyed building mechanical contrivances. Unlike said two pilots, he was also willing to push the limits, which is why this plan was actually happening to begin with.

His first task, however, would be getting the first factory up to standard and begin producing the rifles they would need, as well as the bayonets that would allow the rifleman to do the routine of a pikeman as well, should it be needed.

The sound of the inside of the factory and machine shop was something that Yzak relished at one level, given that he was studying to become a contract machinist specialist before he signed up for ZAFT. The Regent seemed perturbed about the noise, but the one accompanying Yzak on this mission simply plugged one ear.

"Machinist, where is the foreman?" the Regent asks a Machinist that was walking past holding a large metal cylinder.

"Line D-3 in the factory block is where I saw him last," the Machinist says before he got back to his duties.

Finding Factory Line D3 was not the most difficult task. Finding the foreman was turning out to be far more difficult than initially appeared, as every time they went looking he was in a different location. "Sorry, chap, last I saw him he was headed toward the smelting area," another of the press workers notes after the fifty line checked.

"This is starting to get on my nerves," Yzak notes to the other two with him.

"It is," the other from the Archangel Team replies.

"He's around here somewhere, but he's the kind of guy that likes doing his job more than the paperwork, and far more than talking to myself or the King," the Regent notes.

"Well, that I can understand," Yzak replies, noting clearly to himself that there were days he'd rather fight a pitched battle against a Trinary of Clanners rather than deal with Commander Badgiruel or La Flaga.

"Ah, here he is, we've finally found him," the Regent says as he gets clear sight of the Foreman talking to two of the area managers. The three closed up on the three from the factory, waiting patiently as something was discussed between them, which boiled down to reconfiguring the A lines for something...

"Not now, Regent, I got a crapload of work to do for the King," the Foreman says as the two managers walk away. "He wants rifles, I need to get to work reconfiguring these machines for it," he says.

"Now, now, Wilhelm, these two are here for that purpose. The plan to refit the Royal Regiments with rifles was actually a plan derived by—"

"One of those mercenaries from the Archangel Team, yes, I know all that, and I got a lot of shit to do before we can begin modding the equipment to specification," he says.

"Then you two may get along," the regent says while indicating Yzak. "This is Yzak Joule, one of the pilots and a skilled mechanical engineer from the Archangel Team, and this is his assistant in this endeavor, Umi, err, Ryuuzaki, did I get it right?"

"Yes, you did," she replies.

"Ah, you two are the help the King promised in achieving this. So, tell me, what kind of rifle are we building? Flintlock, wheel-lock?"

"Bolt-action cartridge breech loading," Yzak replies as he pulls out his note-puter and fired it up. He also had two high-capacity satchel batteries, in case it had to be used for a severe length of time, so he had plenty of power for it. "I have a graphic and exploded diagram of the requirements for this rifle, but if you were thinking about simple rifles with a flintlock mechanism, I can tell you now to throw that idea in the bin. One bolt-action rifle has five times the power, ten times the range and ten times the fire rate over even the fastest of flintlocks, and all that on a bad day."

"This I must see, come to my office and we'll talk there," the Foreman orders. The whole group headed to the office in question and closed the door, which silenced most of the noise of the factory around them. "All right, it sounds as if this is a miracle weapon you are bringing us, explain how it works, please."

Yzak sighs as he takes the proffered seat, though he like the regent waited for Umi to be seated first. "The rifle uses a pre-prepared cartridge that loads into the breech of the rifle, instead of ramming it down the barrel. In this case it is possible to fire and load a round in a matter of seconds, not twice or three times a minute." He had the necessary graphics up on his machine, which he used to demonstrate the workings. "You draw the bolt up and back, then as it cycles forward it picks up a round from the magazine below the bolt, here, and rams it into the breech. When you lock the bolt down, it seals the breach for firing. You fire, the slug goes out the business end. Once that is done, you pull the bolt up and back, which automatically ejects the fired round and recocks the gun, then push it forward to ram home another round. Repeat until you run out of rounds in the magazine here, which on the rifle I am planning on implementing is ten rounds."

"And how accurate is it supposed to be?"

"Sniper rifle accurate," Yzak says. Seeing the blank expression from the foreman, he continued: "with this rifle, I can reliably hit a man-sized target at 800 yards with little issue, farther than that if I had a magnifying scope sight."

"Larger magazine? And can a trooper carry more than one magazine?"

"Possible, but not recommended. This rifle is supposed to load by a stripper clip, where you use a bundle of rounds and push them down into the magazine. Easiest if we simply keep it to that," Yzak says.

"And how long would it take to make one of these?"

"If we can get the whole factory reset and ready for it, we can make theoretically ten rifles an hour on this equipment, maybe more, and that is including the bayonet." Yzak was making extrapolations, but they were the kind that he could only make after seeing the process in action, and so far what he was seeing of these factory workers well exceeded what he expected.

"Explain that."

"Present maneuver formations are a combination of arquebus and pike. A bayonet is a knife or spike on the end of the rifle, which turns a rifleman into a pikeman if need be. Honestly, if you start firing at five hundred yards, more than three quarters of them will be dead before they get close, but just in case, you have the bayonet.

"Got it," he says. "Good Gods, we may just win this one yet," the Foreman adds.

"I'll be alternating between this factory and the other one in town, due to the requirements of the ammunition I'll have to get them set up to roll brass, stamp it and form the cartridges. The ammo is just as important as the rifle, without one or the other you are really having a bad day," Yzak notes with a hint of humor.

The foreman nods thoughtfully. "I think we can do this, but one thing. I kept hearing tales of a weapon that fired a dozen rounds at a pull of the trigger..."

"And on that, I bring to you the other weapon we'll be building here, the M2 Heavy Machine Gun," Yzak begins.

For her part, Umi knew she was here more or less to cadge the personnel into keeping going, and to supervise and relay information as necessary (particularly weapon tracking and auditing when the manufacturing got into full swing). After all, Yzak would not have brought her along unless she could best do the role of a dignified commander and graceful manager, she figured. All in all, she wasn't far off on her purpose, but way off on the 'why' of the matter.

-x-x-x-

Commander Badgiruel really hoped she would have a chance to clean up before seeing the King and Regent of Doma. Riding a Chocobo a week with the King of Figaro may have gotten them to their destination, but she also suspected she smelled like a Chocobo stable right now. She couldn't tell, all she could smell was Chocobo. Regardless of how far away she was from the birds.

Still and all, the bastion of Doma was an impressive sight nonetheless, an ancient-style castle that had some modifications for modern amenities, like mechanical ventilation and running heated water, at least according to King Edgar's description of the place. He had visited Doma twice on visits of state prior to the onset of the invasions in the south.

"Halt!" the front guard says as they approach after having dismounted the Chocobo.

"King Edgar Roni Figaro and Commander Badgiruel to speak to the King Wyatt Ju Doma. He knows we are coming," King Edgar says smoothly.

"A moment, sirs," another voice declares as the speaker steps through the personnel entrance in the portcullis door. "Ah, King Edgar of Figaro, it has been long, good sir," he says with a gracious bow to the King.

"Indeed, Lord Cyan," King Edgar says with a warm smile. Natarle could tell it was a gesture reserved for those whom he had trust, respect, not the colder smile of a professional politician that the representative of the Empire got. "This is Commander Natarle Badgiruel of the Archangel Team, and is here representing their interests and employ," he continues.

"A pleasure," Natarle says with a formal bow of her own. Lord Cyan had returned the favor.

"Please, we have quarters waiting for yourself and your companion, no doubt you are wearied from your travels," he says. "The King has scheduled a strategic meeting of our Lords for tomorrow midmorning. I am told the meeting shall be with an eye toward assembling and preparing a force to take the northern grievances to the Emperor," the retainer of Doma notes.

"Ah," King Edgar replies, instantly deriving a world of intent from that one statement. "Please, Lord Cyan, lead the way," King Edgar prompts.

As Natarle enters the castle proper, she unsteps her assault rifle sling and switches to carrying it by the grip handle instead of having it slung. Inside, she realized that she would not need it inside the castle bounds unless the Empire decided to lay siege to the castle once again. And should that be the case, Natarle had a long-range radio to call down distant thunder onto them again.

The castle itself was an odd one, as it was built literally straddling a river on two sides, with the river curving down the middle of the stonework of the castle itself, which lent it water even during a running siege. Fouling the river would be a simple task for an invading army, though the ability to use the river to get rid of waste either way was still a plus. The inside of the castle itself was fashioned in two levels, a ground floor and a balcony supported by some massive stone columns, making it something of an impressive structural wonder in its own right. There were some machines here and there, but nothing so much as the machines in use by Figaro Castle, and Natarle could only imagine what machines permeated the Imperial Capital Vector.

Inside the Donjon, the main keep of the castle, the decoration was even more lavish than in Figaro. More than a few tapestries covered whole walls, expert weaving of scenes that Natarle could only guess as to their significance. A few suits of armor and decorative polearm racks were stationed along the walls, the armor of a type that no longer provided ample protection but still had aesthetic value. Up the forward stairs and right were the main quarters for the Retainer, the Regent, and the distinguished guests of the King.

"Your quarters, King Edgar. Please summon if there is any issue," Cyan notes.

"My thanks, Lord Cyan," King Edgar says. "I gander the next meal is dinner?"

"Indeed, such should only be a few hours off," Cyan notes.

Wow, I did not think it was that late already, Natarle thinks behind a passive face.

"By your leave, Commander," Edgar says to Natarle.

"Thank you, King Edgar," Natarle notes in response.

"This way, my lady," Cyan leads her down the hall one room and on the other side of the hall to another set of quarters. "These would be your quarters, lady Badgiruel. Please summon if there is any issue outstanding with them," he says with a bow.

"Thank you, Lord Cyan," Natarle says as she returns the bow. Without further ado, Natarle stepped into her quarters and relieved herself of her gearpack, which included (among other things) her Earth Alliance Officer's uniform, which was what she considered the closest thing she would wear to a dress. She also had a small collection of decent arms, as well as traveling rations of MREs. King Edgar had carried his own rations and arms, and Natarle had made it a point to have him bring a rifle and learn the principle of using a proper rifle, as demonstration what his army would be worth when refitted.

The quarters were impressive, easily far better furnished and decorated than the quarters and stateroom on the Archangel combined. A separate bathroom that was thankfully enclosed was also included, and there were several casement windows that she could see a good percentage of the courtyard from. A franklin-style stove in the room would provide heat if she had any temperature issues, and might also be useful for heating up her MRE packs if that is what it came to, though Natarle could sense more than else cooking in the area would be excellent.

Without further ado, she collected up her uniform and necessary undergarments, moved to the bathroom, and proceeded to take one seriously long bath. Five days on a Chocobo that smelled like nothing else she had ever dealt with was more than enoughmotivation to give herself a very thorough scrubbing.

-x-x-x-

Nicol found himself doing a rather strange thing with his spare time of late, as a way to vent unused feelings. Though potentially duplicating effort, Nicol had begun writing up a straight account of the things he had done since beginning with the Archangel, lo those many days past on Cephiro. Though it could be considered a bit redundant in the face of Natarle's open reports to the Earth Alliance command, he did it anyways. Besides, her reports were more or less for a tribunal. Nicol figured they would only make it as an official record as to what they did. Nicol's aim was to tell the odyssey of the Archangel in its clear fashion, which would be an entirely different tasking at hand. Not to mention, someone needed to know the whole truth of what happened here, the leftover hatred and the triumphs of the team. And of course to tell of the loss of Dearka.

Not to mention, should he get a chance, Nicol would have killed for even a small kid's electric keyboard, much less any fashion better of a piano.

"Unhhh...that hurts..."

"Need two aspirin?" Nicol asks automatically, used to asking such things without regard to who asked. It was only a few seconds later that he properly understood who had said it, and he froze up. The former Blitz pilot looked up from the table he was doing the transcription on and looked to the speaker on the medical bed just beyond. "Holy...you're awake!"

"Yeah, point being?" Athrun asks weakly. "How long have I been out?" he asks, after coming to the realization that maybe something happened that he did not remember.

"A week," Nicol says. "This is excellent news!"

"What's the big deal about it?" Athrun asks weakly.

"You don't remember what happened?" Athrun indicates not. "You got half-nuked by an Esper. You hit the ground and just twitched after the lightning struck, we thought you were dead until after the argument between Tritoch and Windam."

"Oh," Athrun says, not remembering any part of that. As far as he was concerned, his day had ended shortly after the shooting in the craggy pass. "Anyways, who do I talk to about a few Tylenol?" Athrun asks.

"I'll get some," the Doctor says as he turns toward the dispensary cabinet.

"What's been going on, since I was out?" Athrun asks.

"A lot," Nicol says. "We're converting some factories to make rifles for the northern forces, we're building coalitions to head south and basically counter-invade the Empire, Commander Badgiruel and King Edgar should be talking with the King of Doma right now or close to it, and otherwise the ship has been recovering from the losses we've taken recently. It has not been completely pleasant, really, but not impossible to bear."

"Oh," Athrun notes calmly.

"And...you've had a steady stream of visitors, just about everyone's stopped by at least twice, just to check and see how you're doing. Captain, the pilots more like three, four or more times a day. Hikaru, I think about six a day, same with Fuu, Umi a little less."

"Oh;" and this one was not so much as a proper word as it was a squeak from Athrun.

As if there was something destined to accentuate the point: "Any change—Athrun!" Captain Ramius begins asking, then immediately changes her tune when she saw him blink. "Finally, we all were beginning to get worried that Esper had caused more damage than we could undo," Captain Ramius notes as she sits down.

"Esper...I don't remember it," he comments.

"You may not, but much of the world does, having seen the Esper through the eyes of the Rune God Windam."

"The Rune God...stopped the Esper from massacring us all," Commander La Flaga notes, having followed the Captain in.

"Natarle recorded everything from that telepathic conversation, I think you'll like it, especially the one that got the mental beat-down was the Esper that decided you need a couple billion volts persuasion to die."

"I'd love to," Athrun says. "I just...need to get better, that's all," he notes.

"All right, all of you get out of here, go on, shoo," the Doc says. "This patient definitely needs some rest," he says as he starts waving them out of the medbay.

"Aye aye, Doc," Commander La Flaga says. "We'll have some reading material for you later today, Athrun," Mu notes on the way out. Even Nicol evacuated as per the Doc's order.

"I must be running a circus today, there's been more activity in here than in the past month," the Doc mutters. "All things considered, I think Nicol just became 500 C-bills richer off some of the Mechanics."

"How?"

"They figured you'd cling on for several months, but eventually lose. Nicol figured otherwise. Nicol won. Not that I condone taking bets on who lives and who does not, but it is good to see you beat the odds against," the Doc says as he gives Athrun a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. "Ration those, and keep to the directions on the bottle. After a few days, we'll get you up and walking, see what parts of your body took the most damage and how we can correct it."

"Yes, sir," Athrun says immediately.

-x-x-x-

"Ah, excellent, King Edgar, well come," the King of Doma says as the two approach and shake hands vigorously.

"I wish this visit could be under better circumstances, but now is the time to move with aggression, and maybe we can avoid all becoming vassals to a perverted Emperor and his insane flunky." By pervert, he did not mean in a sexual fashion (if anyone qualified, it would be himself), he meant as in having no proper sense of right and wrong.

"Milady Badgiruel, a pleasure," the King says with a deferential bow. Over last night's dinner, they had learned in extensive detail some of the battle that the Archangel had been subject to, and how the Archangel had survived and even won those battles, one grossly outnumbered ship fighting against insane odds. There was little question that Natarle Badgiruel, Lieutenant Commander of the Earth Alliance and Commander in the Archangel Team, was one of the few masters of war on the planet. "I have heard much of your team's exploits, and yours in particular,"

"Highness, thank you," she says as she returns the bow.

"All right, we might as well get straight to it, since the sooner we get this cemented, the sooner we can convince the Western States to join our cause," the King says. "First, Commander Badgiruel, please detail your course and intention for taking the Empire out of commission for the Lords," he requests.

"Gentlemen, my intention is to attack the Imperial Capital, Vector, in such a fashion that they have no possible recourse but to surrender and dissolve the Empire. This will be accomplished by punching a discreet hole in the Empire's guard forces around Vector, by entering and securing Vector, and by expedient of eliminating the command structure of the Empire, namely Emperor Gestahl and Lord Kefka. This will accomplish the necessary tasks to allow us access to necessary resources to find our way home," Natarle begins her briefing.

"An auspicious plan, but do you grasp the totality of what you are saying? Killing an enemy officer is very poor sport, Commander, killing an Emperor is more than ample cause to escalate a war." This was from one of the Lords of Doma, whom Natarle could remember his name as Gahstmane.

"Under normal circumstances, yes, that would be far more destructive than anything else. However, by all accounts the only thing driving this war is Emperor Gestahl and his insane ambition. If you take him down, yes it may seem deplorable, but at least it eliminates the reason the war continues."

"All right, we shall set aside the question of the morality of killing an Emperor, for now at least," one of Doma's many Knights says.

"How do you intend on getting through the Imperial armies around Vector?" Lord Cyan asks, since this was the one hanging point he figured the whole operation had. Once inside Vector, he was convinced losing was impossible.

"Blitzkrieg, an old technique of war from my home lands," Natarle says. "We punch a small hole in their defensive line, going for penetration more than area denial, and the forces follow our armored thrust right through and into Vector itself. This way, we get the Capital without a costly siege action," Natarle says. "First, we will have our own advanced infantry weapons. Second, we will be able to salvage enemy Magitek units and use them against the enemy of their own right. Third, we have the Archangel and her Mobile Forces, which is more than enough to do the initial break-in phase of the assault and provide limited cover for the follow-on forces. We can break in, the question remains whether we can have your support knowing that our intention is to eliminate the Emperor?"

"You have my support," Lord Bezz notes directly. "My lands were hit hard by the Empire when they brought siege to Doma. I have thousands of men with little more than a burning desire to kill Imperials."

"He does not jest on that, and I am in agreement," Lord Wilker replies. "The sooner we put a stop to their scourge, the better."

"Then, what questions have you?" King Edgar asks.

"We know somewhat of your industrial retooling for making these rifles. Are they as advertised? Can they really strike down a man at a mile?" another of the Knights asks.

"Yes, with a caveat," Natarle notes. "The farther away you are, the harder it is to hit the target. However, the rifle we are preparing to manufacture, and may be manufacturing right now actually, is capable of putting a shot out to two thousand yards, minimum. The heavy machine guns, which will be a lot more rare than the rifles, are capable of even worse." The thought of having already begun the production was grossly optimistic, but Natarle was not above touting the ZAFT Pilot's skills any more.

"Supposedly you are working on a way for the Infantry to take out the Magitek units at range?" another Knight asks.

"Well, first off the Magitek Knights can be stopped by the same rifles that all personnel will have, simply by shooting the Magitek Knight. Second, we are working on a man-portable rocket weapon to use against the Magitek forces and other hardened targets, as well as hand-carried grenades that are a lot safer than the lit-fuse type commonly already in use. Third, the Omnimechs we have are easily capable of turning Magitek into scrap in very short order. We will not be caught shorthanded when we have to go head-to-head with the enemy Magitek forces, that is for sure."

"It would seem thou has already planned this campaign thoroughly so as to assure a victory," the King of Doma notes. "I find myself a bit frightened that you have such a ready grasp of a strategy with having been here mere weeks," he notes.

"The principles of war do not change from planet to planet. How you fight the war is what changes," Natarle notes.

-x-x-x-

(27 March 986)

Miriallia's telepathy helped guide Nicol and Fuu toward the town of Kohlingen, though so had Windam for that matter. In the end, the backwards stealth used by the team worked to their advantage, however, as the town appeared to be little more than a low-tech farming town, nothing like the large urban expanses around Figaro or the more rustic bustling city-centers of Doma's lands.

It was a wise decision that they did not enter or approach town on the Stormcrow, as Murrue had initially assigned to them. Though dressed oddly enough to draw instant attention to themselves, the fact that they were not piloting anything, just walked in with only the Rorynex showing gave them an instant leg up, so to speak. The locals were not immediately hostile towards them, which itself was a good sign.

The other thing that was working for them was the fact that the King's brother, Sabin, had tagged along for the journey as well. In all reality he wanted nothing to do with the crown, but he did want to end the war. Fuu thought he was tossing away an opportunity like no other; being a normal civilian from Japan, she had no clue what being royalty was really like and as such had a rather idealized version thereof in her mind. She would have been seriously shocked by the reality, but Sabin wasn't going to disabuse her of that image she held.

Finding the mayor of Kohlingen was easy enough. Getting in to speak to him was just as easy. Getting the answer they wanted...

"So, you're saying that you plan on invading the southern continent, and you plan on assaulting the Imperial capital. Do I have that much of your plan right?"

"You do," Nicol replies calmly.

"Kid, has it ever occurred to you that the Empire has more forces available than the northern continent has total with an extra pair of regiments to spare? Not to mention the Magitek they use? You are asking for an early death," he says.

"Have you seen or heard of the Archangel?" Nicol asks in response.

"A bullshit story to raise hopes against the Imperial onslaught. There is no way a ship can float above the lands and wield cannons capable of what is said of the Archangel," he replies immediately, definitively.

"An interesting look at it," Nicol says. "I take it from context that you would not support your prior claims to support the Returners, then," Nicol notes.

"Correct, boy, the Returners are getting far too bold. I question whether or not they would be a suitable replacement to the Empire, should they win. With such a desperate struggle, I have to wonder if it is freedom or power they are after," he notes coldly.

Nicol sighs, a feeling echoed by the rest of the team.

"For your sake, and the same of your friends, I suggest you disabuse yourself of this notion and find somewhere to live a peaceful life. Death on a battlefield to the south is not going to get you a proper family and estate." Such a thought immediately caused Nicol to blush almost beet red, for two reasons. One, he was planning on asking Fuu out on a date sometime after the shooting was over, two, he was rather incensed that anyone could consider such an important matter as one's freedom on the same level as one's family, which he also qualified as important but far more suited to after the world was cleaned of the hazards of the Imperials.

"This isn't working," Fuu says in Japanese, which intended the comment only for Nicol.

"I know, he isn't going to budge," Nicol replies in the same language.

"Then best we be off," Fuu notes.

"Is there no recourse that you shall budge on?" Sabin asks in a lull between Nicol and Fuu's discussion.

"There is not, mister..."

"Sabin," he adds, not using his full name likely to conceal his royal lineage.

"No, I cannot send my town's men to die on the southern continent for no good reason," the Mayor concludes.

"Then we occupy your time no further," Nicol replies. "Thank you for at least hearing us out."

"I still advise you reconsider this folly, kid. It can only end in disaster," the Mayor says as he escorts the three out of his house.

"Well, that could have gone far better," Sabin says. "The line of mayors in this town have always been obstinate. don't take it as a personal failure to convince him, your pitch was excellent. He just did not want to hear anything but his own bleating," Sabin says.

"I figured as much," Nicol replies though still disheartened.

"Be at ease, Nicol. As Commander La Flaga always says, we can make the impossible possible."

"I will admit that last dig he had on you, about comparing freedom to family, that was not on the level. It is his autonomy right now that allows his family, if the Empire comes in here he can expect the rules about that will change drastically," meaning that the Imperials would take all the good-looking ladies for their own purposes. Nicol and Fuu had noticed that he had a wife and (at a guess) six children, just from those they had caught a glimpse of when they were peeking in on the conversation in a fashion that was not entirely stealthy.

"It cannot be helped, some people think in those terms," Nicol says, remembering clearly the anti-war protests in the PLANTs in the days prior to him signing up to join the official war effort.

It was several minutes of walking before any of the three said anything. "If you always live at the threat of being killed, if you live with no rights of your own, what is your life worth at the end?"

To whit, neither Fuu nor Sabin had an answer to Nicol's pressing question.

-x-x-x-

(31 March 986)

The turnaround on the factory was exceptional, in Yzak's opinion. And they even managed to get the ordinance factory running even faster, which made things simpler in the end.

They had ready supplies of all the necessary components for the firearm, the Enfield Mark IV bolt-action battle rifle, ordinance-grade steel for the barrel and bolt, high-grade for the magazine and trigger group, wood for the stocks, excellent steel for the bayonets, brass for the shell casings, lead and copper for the jacketed bullets, the components necessary to make nitrocellulose-based gunpowder. All in all, the only thing the Kingdom of Figaro was lacking was the proper 'motivation' to assemble them into a decent rifle.

For that, they had Yzak, who had ruthlessly dogged the whole factory crew to get them into shape to make rifles at the needed rate to properly outfit the regiments, two from Figaro and two from Doma as per King Edgar's orders.

Yzak had watched the whole process as it was being executed. First, he watched as the Blanchert lathe took a properly formed Enfield stock and a blank of oak that was slightly larger and square and began cutting the blank in passes to match the finished form. Each stock could be turned out in a matter of ten minutes, after which it went to a final drilling step where the necessary holes were drilled for the barrel, magazine well and trigger group. His next stop was the drop-forging facilities, where a worker pulled a superheated steel rod from the foundry furnace with a pair of insulated tongs, then placed it on a drop-forging machine that had a huge metal press on it with component holes in it that matched what would need to be punched into it in mirror, that way the machine punched the right pattern onto the steel blank. The operator punched the breech end of the barrel and housing four times, each time adding or modifying to the shape already held, until it was ready. The noise made by the drop-forging was hellish, but it was worth it in Yzak's opinion. After forged, the piece was reheated, quenched, then reheated only slightly and left to cool in water to provide the necessary strength from tempering it. With this done, the barrel would be able to survive its own internal forces as a cartridge was fired. Once cooled, the barrel went to a bore tap that cut first the hole in the barrel for the bullet, then a second bit went through and cut out the rifling grooves that would make it extremely accurate. All in all, the barrel was the most complex part from a full machining standpoint, but not from an 'assembly required' standpoint.

The bolt of the rifle was manufactured on a different line, of separate components and assembled by a series of workers. The parts were made similar to the barrels, drop-forged, though rather than several steps each part only had to be hammered once, and to get the hot metal in place a worker used a smaller set of tongs to pull the metal blanks out of a blast furnace and array them on the press. Each press hammered out one each of the necessary parts for the bolt, and did so at the rate of thirty bolts an hour (they could do far more, but the metal supply was not all that fast just yet). Once forged, the parts were quenched and tempered in the same fashion as the barrel, giving them the hardness to survive the battle. Once cooled to an acceptable temperature, the parts were assembled by another person on the same line, freeing the drop-forge operator to hammer out and temper the next set of parts for the bolt.

The magazine, magazine spring and magazine shuttle were also drop-forged, and all on the same line as one another. Once forged and tempered per their individual requirements of each part, another worker assembled the magazines, of which each trooper would receive two magazines since they were so easy to manufacture. This would allow them to rotate magazines so the springs did not wear out so fast. The trigger group and necessary mechanism was forged and assembled on its own line in a similar fashion, though the trigger for the Enfield was a lot more complex than the magazine. Also, the necessary sights were assembled on a small line of their own and tempered, then the elevating flip-up rear sight was assembled by someone with really nimble hands who could manipulate the twist screw into the sight frame.

Final assembly was performed on the final production line, which received the readied parts from each line and simply out a part onto the rifle where needed. Each worker on the line was responsible for putting together the whole rifle, then stamping the Figaro Industries logo and the serial number onto the rifle barrel just forward of the breech. When they were finished assembling and marking the rifle, the weapon was racked to finish cooling internally.

This had begun yesterday. Yzak was ready to try his fast-paced engineering work out today, and for that he had a case of 500 rounds, .303in Ball (full metal jacket) ammunition. Outside the wall of South Figaro, he had gone out with the factory foreman and Umi, who was overseeing the ammunition factory, and set up a target stand with a simple paper target suspended between two poles. There was a moderate breeze rolling across the plains today, which he knew would affect his aim to a small degree at 100 yards. Very small degree.

The demonstration began with him breaking down the weapon and thoroughly greasing all the moving components, something he learned was a religion of the Infantry: keeping your weapon cleaned and oiled was the only thing that would save your ass come time for a firefight. With that accomplished, he loaded a single round into the magazine before he put the bolt in and locked it into place. The bolt went forward and down smoothly, and he had visually recognized it picked the round up from the magazine as it was closing. In one swift motion the rifle came up to his shoulder, centered on target, and he fired the first round from the first Figaro Enfield Mark IV, Rifle serial number 00000.

Without any warning before the shot, Umi only managed to partially cover her ears, the Foreman not at all. Both bellowed their rage at the aural abuse, but overcame that quite quickly when they realized one important fact: it worked.

It only got better when they realized the addendum to the important fact: it worked as advertised. As they approached the target, they could tell that Yzak had shot a 10-ring shot that grazed the bullseye ring, completely cold shot.

"Good God, and you say this rifle can do that at over 1000 yards?"

"In good hands, yes, it will do that range," Yzak notes. "It's reliable, robust, tough, ten rounds in the mag, and the cartridge was the low-end of what people used to knock out elephants and other large game on my home world back in the day. Enough of these will fuck up the Imperial Army and send them home in bloody chunks." Umi did not bother trying to slap Yzak, she just kicked him in the arse hard enough to sting. "Damnit, girl, that's getting annoying," he notes crassly.

"So is your mouth, boy," she replies just as crassly. "But it works, and that is what counts," she says with admiration. After all, she was the person more or less responsible for the ammunition working.

"And all this in two weeks. No wonder the Imperials are afraid of you guys," the Foreman says as he begins the trek back toward the ammo crate. He wanted to try the rifle, as did Umi.

-x-x-x-

(2 April 986)

Jidoor was a worse bust than Kohlingen had been. Not only had Nicol been flatly denied any form of assistance, the populous had more or less ran them out of the wealthy town of several thousand persons, to which Nicol had to retreat under fire while using his Rorynex judiciously to keep them from murdering himself, Fuu or Sabin. No simple task, that, and in the end he knew he had to take fatal shots at a few of the foppish assailants, and more than one of them was dead due to his actions. There was no two ways about what had transpired, the Archangel Team and Returners were not welcomed in Jodoor.

On the other hand, Jidoor could be sorted out after the Imperials were dealt with, Sabin had stated clearly. First things first and all that.

Zozo came next, for which more than just Nicol, Fuu and Sabin would be going in on the ground. The ground team would be augmented by Pytor, who could be very intimidating when needed (and also knew more about fighting than even his fellow bondsmen-inductees admitted), Commander La Flaga, Kira, and Hikaru. This gave them a good amount of personnel to go looking for possible recruits as well as defend themselves if needed.

Zozo, as a resort location...less than stellar. As they walked into town, they came across a body laying in the road.

"Knife to the back," Athrun says. "And he's been here for some time," he notes as he tests the body temperature to be stone cold. An attempt to move the arm resulted in evidence that the body was suffering complete rigor mortise.

"I'm beginning to think this was not such a good location to be recruiting personnel," Commander La Flaga notes as he checks the body himself.

"Guys, we're not alone," Kira notes as the shadows began moving with purpose.

"Great," Mu says as he sees the unmistakable flash of a thin sword in the little light available to them.

Almost simultaneously, Fuu, Kira, Hikaru, and Mu pulled their magic weapons from storage in the glove and readied them for a battle of rather epic proportions. Pytor had a sub-machine gun for use in close quarters, the Gunther KA-23 with silencer for 'delicately' dispatching an assailant should it be necessary. In this case, as the dozen-plus bandits started filtering out of the shadows and toward the group, the necessity of the task was obvious.

Nicol, who was covering the right with Fuu and had his own sub-machinegun shouldered and readied to fire, did not. Something else...nonhuman and rather large...moved in the shadows behind the shadows that the bandits had come from. Something about the way it moved...reminded him of an incident several weeks past in the hills of Narshe..

No cry, no static feeling, nothing. As the bandits began to close in, drawing various weapons ranging from swords to wheel-lock pistols, the Archangel Team braced for the worst. The worst, however, happened to the enemy, not to the Archangel Team. A searing hot blast of some type erupted in three places among the bandit ranks, immediately incinerating eight of them and lighting three more on fire, who began running around the area in classic rendition of the human torch.

Those few scattered that survived the initial blasts looked around, wondering what the hell just hit them, those that were not trying to pat looser clothing of growing smoldering or flames. After a few moments more, they could sense the static electric feeling exactly akin to when Athrun had been struck by lightning in Narshe, and several of them immediately dropped their longer weapons and crouched, hoping to minimize their target profile to the lightning. The bolts of electricity struck and consumed in pure energy three more of the bandits, leaving only two standing.

Pytor, sensing that now would be an opportune time to finish the fight, did so with his Gunther. The two remaining bandits were not wearing armor of any fashion, and as he sighted up the first that was forward of the crew the shadow that Nicol was observing began moving again. He depressed the trigger for a three-round burst on the target's chest, and had the satisfaction of seeing him collapse forward and face down, three massive holes in his chest courtesy of the Gunther's larger slugs. As he sighted up the second, he froze, staring not at the enemy but at what was behind it.

The enemy never saw his fate coming, but the Archangel Team did. As the body itself collapsed to the ground, the head severed by the large claws on the object of their terror, Fuu could not help but wonder why this was happening all over again.

We are now even, Tritoch informs them telepathically. Though I still shall not trust you any farther than I can sneeze you out of my arse, one of our ranks has a pressing matter to discuss with you. Tritoch looked to the tower that was looming over them, three blocks away. The central tower of this town, the top level, we shall be waiting there. Do not delay long.

"Aye aye," Mu replies just before the Esper takes wing, headed for the top of the tower indicated.

"Is this on the level?" Pytor asks after the Esper landed on the said building.

"I don't know, but if these bandits are any sign of the quality of this town, I would much rather deal with the Espers. At least they'll kill us fairly quickly," Nicol notes morosely.

"Any votes against?" Mu asks. Nobody spoke up. "All right, we have a lot of stairs to climb, so let's get to it."

Getting to the tower was no difficult task, especially after the way the first group of thugs had been erased from Existence. Though unseen in common man for over a thousand years, the art of wizardry was still easily recognized, and all it took was one instance of Hikaru's Flame Arrows to get most of the thuggery to stay way the hell away from them. For the remainder there was Mu's halberd, Hikaru's broadsword, Nicol's paired swords, and Fuu's two-handed sword to quell any further opposition.

"Man, Commander, you weren't joking about a lot of stairs," Kira says as he stops about four levels short of the top to take a rest.

An eerie, solo clapping sound came across the night air and from the staircase they were getting ready to take up to the next level. "Impressive. Most intrepids do not make it this far before succumbing to the banditry of the lower levels. It has been long since I spoke with anyone other than the Slam-dancers," the man's voice notes.

"And your point is?" Pytor asks.

"Come, now, you do not need to be so hostile, old man. All you need to do is accept that you aren't going any higher, awe can have a civil conversation."

"I would not be so arrogant about stalling us, mister," Nicol says offhand, looking at the side of the tower and upwards. "An Esper has asked us to the top of the tower for an important meeting. The same Esper you no doubt saw annihilated sixteen bandits in two strokes."

"Now I know I did not hear that right," he says.

"Oh yes, you did," Kira says. "A flying Esper, five times longer than you are tall, a combination of lizard and flying beast that calls massive lightning and fire from the sky, might be able to do even more than that," Kira adds.

"Oh, shit," the man says. As he emerges briefly into the moonlight, they could tell that he was at the least fit, likely a bodybuilder or martial artist. "Espers? Here? In this world?"

"Oh yes," Commander La Flaga replies.

"SHIT!" He shouts before jumping clear over the rail of the balcony. The whole crew rushed to the side to watch him plummet to the concrete below, where he struck the ground and did not move again.

"Kira, Mu, Nicol, I have heard of depressing personalities in my time, but this is far beyond anything I ever expected to see," Sabin notes as he watches a pair of bandits approach the body, check it, and walk away.

"Now that just makes me feel bad for the poor schlub," Mu notes.

"I guess fear of Espers is still very real in this day and age," Fuu notes with a bit of sadness.

"Unfortunately, we don't have all night. Should we continue?" Pytor notes.

The last four levels were easy to transit with the brief respite, and soon they were upstairs in the top-level room of the building. As they entered, Tritoch climbed in to the room from an open window, apparently watching their progress from above. There was another being in the room, one that looked like a bald, wizened old man with a beard that literally reached to the floor. Tritoch indicated they should talk to him by a nod of his head in that direction.

"You must be the ones that serve the Avian God," the old man says. "I am Ramuh, an Esper. We have heard your call to action, and should the Avian God beseech us we shall join your effort."

I was expecting to find some help here, but this...whoa, Commander La Flaga thinks.

The time of your penance is fast approaching, Magic Beasts. On this campaign you shall aid the Archangel against the tyranny and genocide of the southlanders, but you will do so as they order, not as you so choose. Far more is at stake in this coming battle than simply wiping out those who would drain you for your essence, and it must be done right or far more problems will come. The mental voice of Windam was pronounced but not full of anger as it had been those weeks past.

"We hear and shall comply, Avian God," Ramuh notes.

-x-x-x-

(11 August 986)

Both Figaro's two Regiments and Doma's three regiments (one more than initially planned on) were refitted end to end with the bolt action rifles and crew-served Ma Deuce Machine Guns. Doma had taken on the responsibility of manufacturing the Ma Deuce, since they had their own mines, transportation systems, and more than enough population to run a factory or two. As such, the M2 Heavy Machine Gun came into production late in June, and with a production run of five a day, more than enough had been manufactured to give the regiments some serious firepower.

Natalya was the first called upon to whip the Figaro forces into shape. The Crazy Cook was assigned to Doma's forces. As such, there was a literal expectation that the troops would be more than capable to the task, since their drill masters and assistants were professional soldiers who knew what ranged warfare was all about. They also had to learn how to fight in urban terrain, since by all accounts Vector was one massive city. Fighting open field battle was one thing, fighting in close was another.

"Observe," The Crazy Cook says as he stacks up on the door to the first simulated room. "When you do this, you do it fluidly, do not stop in the door. I will only show the first entry, normally you do not enter except with two or more persons," he says.

The squad he was working with right now watched intently as he demonstrated again how it was done, using one of their rifles to do the job. As he entered he immediately, gracefully slid right as he brought his rifle up and fired a single shot into the target standing there. As he ran the bolt he swiveled onto the next target and gave it a headshot. "Clear!" he shouts as he ducks back out the door, then to the next simulated house and the door there, since the holes in the walls were for observation, and not considered windows that a trooper would normally inspect the room's contents from before entering.

Room two went the same way, he entered and went right, drilling one target with a precision shot, then another. There were three targets in the room, though.

"Now do you understand what I mean? When you enter, you enter, you do not stop at the door and prevent the rest of your team from entering."

"Aye, sir!" the squad chants in response.

"Now, pair off and prepare to do it yourselves," the Crazy Cook orders. "Remember, stack on the door, second shooter has his left hand on the left shoulder of the point man. No exceptions," he orders. The eight men broke down into four pairs, then moved to their individual rooms as ordered. "Room one, go," he orders. Immediately the two troops entered, and this time they moved properly. The first went right and forward, then serviced his first target. Before he could even begin to turn on the second target the second soldier had entered and put one dead center in the target's face.

"Room two, go," he orders as he walks down to where he could see the action in said room. The two troopers entered in the same fashion and fired one shot each, a fatal shot into the chest for each of the felled enemies. Both had centered on the third target, the lady, but neither fired.

"Room three, go," he orders loudly as the two on that room sim were waiting. Immediately he noticed one error and a partial in their actions, though when they entered they got the one target in the room among three. He figured he would have to go over the points again that they messed up on, but it should be easy enough. These were very disciplined troopers, the only thing outstanding would be their training.

"Four, go," he orders. Immediately, a comedy of errors cropped up, including the one that he had just warned them on. The entry man realized his mistake after a moment's hesitation and continued the entry properly, and fired his required shot. The secondary had his own shot, and took it, though he would have only winged the enemy, not outright killed them.

"All right, form up," the Crazy Cook orders. Immediately they safed their weps, moved up to the assembly area, and stacked in a proper line. "All right, people, we did this one better than the prior ones, but we have room for improvement still. We're going to keep doing it until we get it right first time, every time," and the other sergeants were going to do the same for the rest of the squads and platoons. Everyone got the entry training, since taking Vector would take a lot of troops inside the superstructure, and would likely be very bloody.

There were moans from the troops.

"First, when you stack, the rear soldier always puts his left hand on the left shoulder of the entry man. Second, DO NOT block the doorway, keep moving into the room. If you can not go right, go forward. Third, center mass shots. Now, pair off, stack up, and do it again, and we keep doing it until you get it right first time every time."

The groans were discreet from the team, since they knew this 'demonic' soldier only made things harder when they complained.

"Such difficult drilling, I don't think I could continually do this and do it right."

"It is a different form of fighting, General Celes," the Crazy Cook replies as she approaches to observe. "One, go!" he orders. The 'range technicians' (a couple young boys he had hired from town to do some drudgework to keep them out of mischief) had moved the targets around and patched them so they looked 'new' and could be trained on again. This time the soldiers entered to a wildly different target scope, but training is the master of the battlefield and they got it right.

"They improve continually," Celes notes.

"They will need it and more," the Crazy Cook replies. "The worst we can do is send half-trained soldiers out onto the battlefield against the Empire's veterans. That would be disastrous." He looks to the second door. "Two, go!"

"And when is enough training?"

"When battle becomes nothing more than a bloody drill to them," the Crazy Cook replies. Celes was quite abruptly reminded why people called him The Crazy Cook by that one sentence. "Three, go!"

-x-x-x-

(19 August 986)

"Aegis report status," Miriallia orders over the radio.

"Aegis standing by, awaiting launch clearance," Athrun reports immediately.

"Aegis, you are cleared to the starboard-side catapult immediate," Miriallia orders. "Good luck," he appends.

"I will need it," he replies, and for good reason. Though he had been 'cleared' for piloting some time ago, he did not take it back up. Now, months after having been blasted by Tritoch, whom through the vagaries of divine intervention (literally) was now on their side, he was stepping back into the cockpit to take part in a modified Clan ritual.

The issue was simple. As both confirmation of their restored piloting status and as practice, the Clan pilots Kristen Redmond and Pytor would engage in a Trial of Position using their newly-assigned Omnimechs and do so with simulated weapons. Athrun drew the short straw between himself and Tolle, meaning he had to face the bigger and nastier of the two. Tolle had broke almost even with Kristen Redmond, who was a natural at gutting Gundams with her lasers. Now it was Athrun's turn to face the Clan nightmare known as the Warhawk.

Athrun positions himself and prepares. "Athrun Zala, Gundam Aegis, Launching!" he half-shouts just before he jams the throttle all the way forward. The catapult reacts automatically and adds an extra 100 Km/h to his exit velocity.

"Mechwarrior Pytor, this is your Trial of Position," Natarle notes on the radio. "A successful outcome ensures your place on the deployment team, as well as likely giving you a significant amount of bragging rights. Athrun is not going to be a pushover by any standard, even having not piloted for weeks. Good luck, Mechwarrior."

"Aff, Command," he replies curtly as he rams forward the throttle on the Warhawk. It was a lot larger than the frames he had piloted before, and almost three times more durable than the Hunchback IIC he had been soundly defeated in last he fought in meaningful battle. It also had far more reproducible firepower than the Hunchback IIC. I am not past my prime, as Nikolai said more than once. It is he that was sundered by the guns of the Archangel's mobile forces, and they saw fit to take me on as bondsmen. I shall not disappoint their faith in my veterancy, Pytor thinks as he flips several switches in the barely-familiar cockpit, changing his radar settings out and verifying his weapons were in simulation mode. No sense firing real shots in a simulated battle, after all.

Even piloting a far larger machine, the sight of the Aegis as it transformed from mobile armor mode to mobile suit mode, then rapidly descended was wicked and significantly frightening to Pytor. He had watched the Mobile Armor in action on Romulus, as it and the other Gundams and the Rune Gods tore the garrison forces to shreds as the Archangel itself destroyed three Dropships in a single salvo each. Malthus had dishonored himself and the Clan by continuing to harry such a potent force without any justifiable military gain, and only now did Pytor properly understand why they lost so thoroughly.

The Archangel Team was driven, even more so than the Clans' crusade against the Inner Sphere. They would get home, hell or high water or little green squeaking aliens, and woe would certainly betide those who tried to stop them. This Pytor now understood, and he respected that more than most would assume.

As the Aegis touched ground about 1700 meters off Pytor's right forequarter, Pytor immediately locked him up with the sensors to keep a solid track on his machine, and immediately thereafter activated his targeting computer while slewing the torso of the massive Warhawk to target his Gundam. Aegis was not caught unawares, of course, as the pilot immediately began a circular strafe with his shield up, to keep the massive assault 'mech from having an advantage over him. Pytor responded with his Large Pulse Lasers, which would make things far easier for him at that range and actually could damage the shield carried by Aegis. Two shots, two hits, both on the shield, though the PPCs effectively would not have damaged the shield as the anti-beam reflective coating on the shield would dissipate the PPC bolt better than the relegated Blue Shield System. (1)

The return fire from the Aegis was hellish, for starters, though Athrun did not keep the pressure on. Three shots from his beam rifle as the Aegis jetted to a different location, one partially concealed from Pytor's view as he moved laterally to avoid the fire. Two of the three shots contacted, resulting in a hit to his left arm and left leg, both hardly consequential. As he continued moving the Aegis maintained its position for a second too long, and Pytor popped off another pair of PPC shots along with one laser. The laser and one PPC missed, but the second contacted Aegis on the right leg with a grazing blow, but still apparently caused simulated damage to the Gundam. As Athrun jetted up and right, closing by about 200 meters in the process, Pytor could tell he was not moving the left leg properly, which meant his battle computer thought it had lost control from the knee down.

As proof, when Athrun landed the Aegis it started limping at an uneven pace, headed farther right and trying to flank Pytor's assault 'mech. To keep his machine cool, he fired only the PPCs at a range of 1400 meters, both of which contacted the shield and caused no overt damage on his scanning system. Again with the three shots, though as Pytor was charging the Aegis down at full throttle the targeting solution to his 'mech was dead simple. All three hit, two in the center of his torso and one to the right, leading his battle computer to screech defiance at the damage he was quickly taking.

Six hundred meters closed in less than ten seconds, and with the Aegis not ready to jump again, Pytor found he had the opportunity of a lifetime. He was running his machine with the Enhanced Imaging implants few of the bravest (or most foolhardy) Clan pilots use, and with his EI activated he set the Targeting Computer to dwell on the right leg of Aegis, where he had already struck once. He fired all four of his weapons, and contacted with just one ER PPC, which was actually an acceptable outcome given he was trying to hit just one small part of the 'mech while running dead out and the Aegis itself was still moving. This resulted in something that Pytor was flat-out not expecting, the Aegis fell over onto its right side, temporarily pinning the beam rifle under its side

Temporarily, but not completely. As Pytor circled around its head, the Aegis sighted him up and tried firing several shots. The one of the four that Athrun fired from prone hit in the dead center of his 'mech, which breached his armor in simulation and bored in on the precious gyro, damaging it significantly. Pytor immediately noticed the machine's balance was skewed right, though he fought against it as the veteran 'Mechwarrior he really was and continued the battle. While walking around the enemy machine, he slewed his torso to the right and down, centering on the Aegis as it struggled to twist to where Athrun could easily fire on him. At close range of 500 meters, Pytor let loose with everything on his 'mech except for the flamer, and only one of the PPCs missed. With the shield out of the way, the three shots tore into the right side of his Gundam and did some major damage. Before his machine could finish dissipating heat and recharging the PPCs, the Aegis depowered and collapsed.

"Mechwarrior Pytor, we show your foe has lost neural linkage between the cockpit and the upper half of his Gundam. This battle is concluded. Congratulations are in order," Commander Badgiruel declares on the unit frequency.

"A toast to the pilot of the Aegis, as well. One more strike on the center of my 'mech, and it would have been me on the ground, not he."

"Still, you got me, no two ways about it," Athrun declares as the Aegis stands up. "Taking the leg off a machine, how did you do that so skillfully?"

"The Warhawk has an advanced targeting computer and this machine has the Neural Interface. I can target specific locations on a 'mech with only minor difficulty."

"Oh, wow," Athrun says. "I think I need to take a look at that when we get back to the ship," he notes.

-x-x-x-

(5 September 986, 2015 hours Figaro time)

"Ah, it feels so good to relax, at least for a night," Tolle says as he leans back in the hot springs, popping his back in several locations.

"A long road, seven months of manufacture and training, and tomorrow it begins," Yzak says in response.

"We build an army, we unleash an army," Athrun says in preemptive counter to any protests of how 'unfair' it would be for the enemy.

"Seyla," one of the Clanner Engine Mechanics replies. He had taken leave of being an engine mechanic to help drill the Figaro regiments, and was fairly confident they would not fold in their first battle. Especially with the Archangel in support.

"And then, there was one," Yzak says. "Just Vector. Then I build us a way out of this dimension."

"How do you intend on doing that, really?" Tolle asks.

"The Imperials use teleporter systems to move large formations from place to place. They haven't used any in five months, since they know that doing so is suicidal now, but it goes without saying it should still be intact right now. We capture that system, and modify it to teleport not just between places, but dimensions. We're going to be defying a lot of 'laws' of physics here, but I think it can be done."

"I'm not going to comment," Athrun notes sardonically.

"That was enough of a comment of its own right, pilot," the Engine Mechanic says.

"Hey," Murdoch says as he enters the springs.

"Hey, Chief, how's it going?"

"Everything is ready on our end, polished to a shine and loaded to the top with ammo. When we hit them, it's gonna be big, loud and real bloody," he says as he slowly slinks down into the springs.

"Excellent," Tolle replies with an evil grin.

-x-

(Same date and time)

Flay had been ordered held until the conclusion of hostilities, due to the fact that she was a security hazard at several levels. And the Doctor had needed only a quick discussion with her to conclude that she was out for revenge, mainly against Kira but also against the rest of the ship. Being imprisoned had hurt her deeply, well past the point of mental instability.

General Leo, well, was General Leo. There was no two ways about his conduct, really, he was still the honorable General day in and day out. And, unlike Allster, he did not believe that the continued incarceration was dishonorable conduct. In fact, the time in the brig on the Archangel gave him plenty of time to search inside, understand why he lost and understand why the eve of the Empire's destruction was upon them.

The argument between the Esper and Windam had been one that mirrored the conflict he was party to, only in a different organization structure. Leo had initially found it amusing, not to the level that Flay had, but after consider what had been said, it was not funny. Genocide was what people were thinking of, seeking, and he had been party to it. After that realization, Leo had never felt so violated before. A week after, he was willing to sign on with the Returners to stomp out the Empire, but he was still imprisoned on the Archangel and he could understand that.

The answer was simple. The Archangel Team was driven, ready to do the right thing at a moment's notice and to hell with anyone being naughty. That being said, they also had a lot of survival instinct and the ability to understand even the most complex political equations in mere minutes, and how they did that was beyond Leo. He could only guess that some or more of the could read minds, which was not entirely impossible but rather unwelcome as well.

"Meal time," Miriallia notes as she enters the cell block with two trays. Of late, the first she had been giving their meal was the General, which though chafed his sense of honor (the lady in the brig should start the meal, by his upbringing) but he could also understand why. Flay liked to badger whoever came in, lately complaining about her continued incarceration, though what Leo heard her mumbling in her sleep was more than ample evidence to keep her locked up. She wanted Kira dead, only after veritably raping the poor sod as far as he could tell. Not so much sex or love as power, he could tell. Leo had seen people like that before, Lord Kefka being one of them.

"Thank you, milady," Leo says as he receives the meal. "I can sense...the invasion begins tomorrow?"

"It does," Miriallia notes.

"Then be wary the Kraken forces, submarines deployed out of Albrook for sinking transport ships," Leo notes.

"I think the commander's already compensated for them, but thank you nonetheless," Miriallia says as she moves over to Flay's cell. "Meal's here," she notes as she slides the tray into Flay's cell.

"I'm filing a complaint of illegal incarceration when I get back to the Earth Alliance."

"You go, girl," Miriallia replies facetiously. " all rights, you should already have been executed for that stunt, Flay, consider yourself lucky you are alive."

For what it was worth, the look on Flay's face when told that fact was more than enough entertainment for Leo for a day.

-x-

(Same date and time)

"It's almost over," Fuu notes. "All those months of training and trying to forge alliances, and tomorrow we sail for the South. I can't believe it is almost time," she adds wistfully.

"Yes, almost time," Miriallia replies as she arcs her back to stretch it from the strain of constant tactical drilling. Kira had written an excellent program that took into account the team's skills and fighting styles, which she used to practice her own tactical coordination skills to make sure she was able to command the mobile forces to their best. So far she was doing excellent, but she had little doubt that Natarle could still smoke her four times of five, maybe more.

"Then what?" Hikaru asks.

"Yzak has a plan for getting us home. After that, we try to get you home as well," Miriallia replies. "That is, if you want to go home."

"I don't know any more," Hikaru says. "I do want to go home, I do want to see my friends and family again, but I also don't want to leave this ship."

"I agree, this place has become our home. We've been here almost a full year now," Umi says. "If I've been tracking the days right, I should be close to fifteen and a quarter now," she says.

"I lost track of how old I'm supposed to be, though I don't think it matters any more," Miriallia says. "I think I'm somewhere between seventeen and a half and eighteen."

"Fourteen, fifteen, and already soldiers. And I thought the Empire was depraved for starting Terra and I out at an early age."

"We chose to become Knights, sort of," Hikaru retorts.

"And we chose to help the ship in its time of need, because without the help we would have gone down with the ship," Miriallia notes.

"Why?" Celes asks bluntly.

"Well, surviving the evolving war qualifies as a good motivation as far as I can see," Miriallia replies almost immediately. "Same thing on Cephiro, Dustball, Romulus, Twycross, and now here, on this world. We had to do it, or we wouldn't be this close to going home," she concludes.

"And, if you don't object to my prying a bit, then what?" Celes asks after a moment.

"Hard to say. Returning to the Earth Alliance is out of the question, they'd court-martial us and hang us for this," and her arm wave encompassed more than just the ship. "Probably back to my homeland, Aube, just to avoid the firing squad. Maybe we'll work on stopping the war, but I am not entirely sure right now. Getting home is the big part."

"And Tolle?" Celes asks. Their relationship was about as obvious to her as a coal pile in the hangar, as it was to anyone else who spent a length of time on the ship.

"Oh, we'll definitely have to make arrangements when we get home," she replies.

"And if he runs off? Or tries hiding?"

"I have a magic bow and telepathy. There is no running, no hiding."

"Whoa," Hikaru breathes.

-x-

Though the work on the Archangel was done and its crew relaxing, the work of the soldiers on the ground was not.

Cyan stood watch as soldiers loaded themselves into every available boat, be it a ship of war or a measly transport, with hordes of supplies and support personnel to make sure they were fully outfitted and ready for the battle. Several of the troops nodded as they passed him, which he returned as his stern gaze swept back and forth across the docks. Tomorrow morning, they would set sail, and with four days to their expected landfall point, it would be an arduous journey for the five regiments of crack troops.

Cyan never really considered himself a professional soldier, per se, since his duties were more to the King of Doma rather than to the army. However, he knew how to recognize good troops from bad ones, and the troops that he was leading into battle now were some of the finest, easily the match to the Imperial Army in training and morale, far superior to them in armaments. Unless the Commander on the Archangel screwed something up, victory was very close to certain.

There would be no pretense here. The only objective of this coalition was to tear down the Empire. Four powerful forces were allied against the Empire, and four forces would bring certain doom to their ranks. The two Regiments of Figaro, the three Regiments of Doma would provide the main punch, the mass of force to crush the Empire's scattered and shaky formations. The Archangel would prove the armor, the main thrust that began the blitzkrieg, or lightning war, that would shock their whole command structure to the core.

And the fourth force, a partial unknown but far more feared than any mass from the North, was the Espers of old legend. They wanted blood, plain and simple, for the Empire's off and on raids of their homeland, stealing the Espers for their own cruel and malignant purposes. The Rune Gods gave them a rally point, a pillar by which they would challenge and assault the Empire, exacting their bloody vengeance on the army and the imperial command structure for their grievous losses. And Cyan would not fault them a shred of their intentions; the Empire was bloodthirsty, malignant to the core; its demise would strip away a cancer eating at their world.

"You ready, troops?" Cyuan asks as a battalion of the heavy infantry boards the ship.

"Sir!" their Lieutenant comes to attention. "Incredibly ready, sir, just give us the word and we'll storm their lands with pocket knives," he replies with a huge grin.

"You shall get the chance. Remember your orders and your command structures. And for the sake of the Gods, do not shoot the Espers. They are on our side, this time around."

"Yes, sir!" he replies.

"Dismissed," Cyan says.

-x-

"And, as it stands, we're featherbedded with supplies. If the assault bogs down, we can leave the 'mechs and Gundams here as the Archangel takes a suborbital hop north to pick up supplies to ferry back to the troops. Also, with the long-range radios, we can move the Archangel between the assault fronts to support the forces on the ground, all three vectors of attack."

"When they find our Regiments up north and west, they will never see the Esper assault coming from the south. They doom themselves," King Edgar says. "This...is a marvelous drink, what is it called?"

"Jack and Coke," Natarle replies as the King lowers his glass and takes another sip.

"All right, everything executes as planned," Murrue orders. "We launch at high tide tomorrow morning," she orders. "Dismissed," she concludes.

King Edgar, Captain Ramius and Commander La Flaga left before Natarle did. Before she exited the stateroom, Natarle stopped to look over the growing collection of flags they had. On the 'allies' side they had the Earth Alliance, ZAFT, the Rune Gods had a flag with their three symbols, the Federated Commonwealth, the Draconis Combine, Figaro, and Doma. On the enemies side, they had a flag of Zagato's personal crest, the Earth Alliance, the Jade Falcons, and one of the Empire.

King Edgar retired to his quarters about the same time that Gundam Pilot Koenig and his fiancé (for lack of a better term) did so as well, and both appeared to be in a very good mood this night. He could tell he was in for another of those nights that he got less sleep than they did, for reasons that only a telepath would properly understand. He totally underestimated the severity of the situation by an order of magnitude.

Commander Badgiruel had seen the same scene as Miriallia practically dragged an unresisting Tolle into his own quarters, which abruptly told her who would eventually ask who for marriage in the end. She did not begrudge them the relation, either. Not everyone on this ship was prepared to be the professional soldier as she was, though her leanings of late were leaning far different than a year ago.

Commander La Flaga and Captain Ramius, unbeknown to anyone else at the time, would share quarters this night. The months of growing intimacy between the two would only grow closer as the Captain politely requested he share quarters with her tonight.

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Author's Chapter Afterword:

If you can't smell the blood now, check your nose for obstructions.

Five regiments, outfitted to early WW2 combat standards, against an indeterminate force of Imperials with wildly varying equipment of their own. Then there is the Esper Factor which will crash into them in extremis in the next chapter, and I intend on pulling no punches on that term. You can expect to see massive amounts of blood in the coming battles, as you rightfully should from me. I pull no punches, and I like it that way. So do a lot of you guys, which is why I do this.

On a personal note, the silence is broken officially. After my exam, which I passed by a fair margin of success, I began the planning phase of this chapter while finishing up a few that were almost completed of other stories. I took two weeks out basically to study and prepare my soul for the exam, and I am glad that is behind me. Now to take another in a few months :P

Also on a personal note, I have the first of my shoot meet videos up on my Youtube account. Search for author CSSstravag, you'll find them. No comment as to which of the persons in the videos is I. I have a lot more video from that meet to chop up and post, so stay tuned for even more. Not to mention, I intend on doing some non-firearms videos sooner or later, so...

All right, now that I am through diddling around, this is it for this chapter. Thank you to those who dropped reviews, and keep the inspiration coming, comrades. Also of note, I have a poll up on my profile page, so any of you who have an opinion on whether my stories are too bloody or not should take a moment to vote. I respect opinions of others, and I would like to hear what you have to think.

Next up: The invasion goes south, literally, and runs headfirst into a wall of Imperials. Who will survive?

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Review Replies: Eight reviews today on this chapter, and for that I have thanks to all of you. In order of the reviews received:

Knives91: Always a pleasure to cause mass casualties, Thank you.

Etienneofthewestwind: Well, Celes' status will be examined in greater depth in coming chapters, so I shall not spoil that surprise, comrade.

CHM01: I think the Espers are going to be a bit more complex than simply helping the Archangel. So stay tuned.

Deathzealot: The whole thing is up in the air right now, the next chapters hinging on the outcome of the dice as the invasion begins. The only thing I can guarantee at this point is it shall be bloody, and the story is not over yet. As to replacement personnel, you can expect they will get some local recruits to cover losses and fill the personnel gaps they've had for quite some time. Remember the bondsmen taken did not completely cover the losses they took even all the way back in Cephiro, so the whole ship has been running short on personnel.

Kite Lanford: Thank you for the review, comrade. As to quantum physics, it is hard to really say what is and is not possible in a physical sense, since we do not even have a complete understanding of matters ourselves. Theory holds that what happens to the Archangel should not be possible, but theory is just that, and there are numerous theories as to how this could be possible. I like to think of it as possible but unlikely, and that will catch up to them sooner or later.

Evil Manic (Anon): A similar idea has been presented, and like all such ideas it is classified whether it shall be done or not. Sorry, minimizing spoilers, comrade, but it is a killer idea :P

Maddery: Most of what goes falls back on three of my old principles of writing:

1. The main characters drive a story, but the main characters can't win the whole story. Goes back to the fact that real wars aren't won by aces.

2. Introduce a chaotic variable to a storyline, things will change. No questions asked. (as such, the Archangel is the chaotic variable in this telling.)

3. Reality is a far stranger place than most fiction.

As to the rest, things will be picking up with those characters that do actually show in this series.

Bien: Been a while since I heard from you, comrade. And I would think by now that it was obvious the Gundams have serious problems in some stand-up battles, but that will be even more evident in coming chapters.

Thank you, one and all, for the reviews. Keep the inspiration coming, comrades, your dreams are but a drop of fuel for the ongoing nightmares of the Archangel.

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The Gripe Sheet:

One outstanding major gripe. The use of sound effects, particularly gunfire sounds, has been toned down per Maddery's outstanding complaint about it. It will not go away, just be used in limited circumstances, where most suitable.

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Footnotes:

(1): Blue Shield System is a semi-official Level Three battletech component set. It is designed to cut the damage from PPCs in half on a mech equipped with it, but to my knowledge has no other usefulness. I use it in limited circumstances in Level three play.