"Yet another travesty of an engagement. I'm beginning to question the wisdom of continuing the BCPU project." Cervantes growled, leaning back in his office chair and staring into the video screen. The Doc looked back out of the screen at him from deep within the Andean mountains of South America, at Project JIHAD. "Almost every time we send them out on a mission, one of them... usually Frost... comes back with serious injuries and a totalled machine. Blue Cosmos has vast resources, as I'm sure you can appreciate. But that does not mean we can or will just throw funding around like confetti. I demand results... good results. And as yet, the BCPU's have only racked up one good result, at Washington DC. Do you have an explanation for their... history... of failure? As I recall from the last war, the prototype models performed at considerably less than design parameters as well."
The Doc stifled an impatient glare. Always it was the same with his sponsor... the man was a boor... drunk on his own power and influence and consumed by soul destroying hatred for almost everyone else. It seemed that a conversation could not go by without some allusion to a failing of one of the Doc's programs or studies, or even direct threats upon the health of the Doc himself. Never did the bastard call to compliment the Doc on a job well done, a product well delivered, a masterpiece well crafted... no, it was always this leering sarcasm and unsubtle threats. So he must explain one more time, it seemed.
"What you say is true, to an extent, sir. Almost every time we have sent the BCPU's out into combat they have come back damaged in some fashion, often seriously. However, the one time they did not come back in such a state was the one time they were deployed in total compliance with the protocols I had designed for their implementation. During that one deployment they functioned exactly like I said they would and produced more than excellent results,as I'm sure you can appreciate. The so called history of failure you spoke of is nothing more than the result of improperly applied procedure. The BCPU's were never designed for the sort of independent missions you insist on sending them on." The Doc sighed and clenched his fists inside his lab coat.
"Too much has been stripped from their humanity to ever trust them on solo missions... they invariably are overwhelmed by their conditioning and revert to instinct unless directly controlled by a firm hand. They are more like scapels than hammers... they should not be just thrown into battle to shatter the enemy, but rather used under focused and deliberating intention to cut through resistance and remove the enemy as their controller sees fit. In business terms, they need to be micromanaged to bring out their full potential. They are excellent followers... as independents or leaders their value is actually less than that of an unenhanced soldier. I told that to Mr. Azrael as well... he ignored me and thus his displeasure at the so called failings of the BCPU's."
"That sounds a bit like criticism for the much lamented Mr. Azrael. I'd keep such a thought to yourself, since few within Blue Cosmos are as tolerate of critique as I am." Cervantes said, steepling his fingers. It was always a chore, lecturing the Doc. The blasted man was far too smart to just browbeat... Cervantes would invariably say something the seedy little man would be able to turn around on him, until Cervantes was so frustrated that he'd forget the main stream of the conversation entirely. And... damn him... he was too vital to Blue Cosmos to just eliminate, or even threaten too much. The Doc could call any bluff Cervantes chose to offer... as long as he continued to supervise and create such projects as JIHAD and the BCPU's, the Doc could not be killed without putting the greater goals of Blue Cosmos in dire jeopardy... in a way the Doc was actually more vital to Blue Cosmos than Cervantes himself was.
Another leader could always be found... many men had soul and drive. Few had the brains to manufacture weapons that were superior to those the Coordinators possessed. "So we need to keep a closer watch over them, is what you are telling me? That we need to split them up into small groups under near total supervision. That limits their fluidity and adaptability unacceptably, don't you think? I thought they were supposed to be the ultimate soldier, able to adapt to any battlefield situation and turn it to their advantage."
"You wanted ultimate soldiers? That's not what I heard you and Mr. Azreal say. I distinctly remember you telling me to create a weapon that would kill Coordinators better than Coordinators could kill Naturals. If it is soldiers you want, BCPU's are not where you should look. They have superhuman physical and mental abilities... but they lack the personality and humanity... the soul, you might say... to be good soldiers. They can analyze data, but in terms of being able to extrapolate more than a few minutes ahead... they cannot. They are creatures of the instant... living from moment to moment. They fight one enemy at a time, with no regard to the future more than the number of enemies that can be killed at one time. What the BCPU's are is the ultimate killers... a small but very important distinction from soldiers. Soldiers fight wars, but then they go home afterwards because they have a solid place in the world... they fight for reasons, for causes, conquering their fear and baser emotions and even channeling them to increase their chances of victory. Because they fear they work out plans and strategies to enhance their chances... they improvise to meet a long term goal, always clawing for that fingernail edge that will keep them alive while the enemy bleeds out on the ground." The Doc lectured, as if speaking to a young student.
"BCPU's fight wars because that is what they are created to do... they have no other place in the world... no past to go back to... no family... no loved ones... no friends. They fight because they are told to and because they want to... because we want them to, and we condition them to want to. The don't feel fear... indeed, Frost IS fear, more than any other entity I have ever seen. They have no motivation besides the desire to kill to force them to improvise... and so they improvise, but only on an instant scale... a blow to blow scale. BCPU's don't even really care about dying... the main thing that seperates them from humanity... in pursuit of a goal a human will break off if he takes a mortal wound he can save himself from, before he reaches the goal, to try again later at another time. A BCPU does no such thing... they save themselves after they reach a goal... if then." the Doc continued, fighting to keep the exasperation out of his voice. People never could make up their minds about what they wanted... one reason he liked the BCPU's... they were constant in their desires and feelings.
"I'll take your words under advisement." Cervantes allowed, in truth just too worn out to muster the spite to continue the argument. He may not have been an official world leader, but he was in reality up to his eyebrows in the mechanisms of the war. Alliance high command didn't take a shit without clearing it with him first... and while the feeling of power was enjoyable the tedium and frustration were starting to wear on him. He felt like he'd aged ten years since the start of the war... and while his physique had yet to be affected he could feel his internal mechanisms acting up... joints ached, bouts of indigestion, frequent headaches... the works. He also wasn't seeing nearly enough of the really important people in his life. He hadn't seen Vanai in the flesh for more than three weeks, and Sai for about a week. Even Asmodeus hadn't actually been in his presence since the day before yesterday. He hadn't even had time for one of his many mistresses... Vanai's mother was long dead and he had never desired to be remarried, and there was never a shortage of beautiful women attracted to his personal power so there was no real need for a wife... he'd been sleeping in the comfortable if not often used suite of rooms behind his office.
The last week had been a nearly constant blur of video meetings, conference calls, report reading and brief interludes of sleep. And things only stood to get more hectic as the war went on... already new offensives were being organized on almost a dozen terrestrial fronts while the Lunar forces were rapidly being whipped into shape to better confront the PLANTS on their home territory. The loss of Gibraltar had crippled ZAFT efforts to reclaim the mediterranean area, so that was good at least... one less fortress of monsters on the planet to be cleansed. But ZAFT had been successful pretty much everwhere else... a similar tactic had been repulsed at Carpenteria and now ZAFT controlled almost the entire southern Pacific ocean and much of the Indian ocean as well. ZAFT had also made inroads in the middle eastern regions and parts of northern Eurasia, but nothing major. Still, now ZAFT had a solid foothold on the Earth, through which they could pour reinforcements to prolong the ground war. That was a situation that needed to be rectified as soon as possible. "Very well. I'd like a progress report, if you'd be so kind, Mr. Borander."
The Doc glared at Cervantes Zunnichi, not bothering to hide his ire this time. "Don't call me by my name. If you must call me something, you may call me Doctor or Doc, as everyone else does. The only people who are allowed to call me by name are my family."
Cervantes sneered back at the Doc... the use of his name had needled him, just as Cervantes had known it would... for some reason the man loathed being called by name. Cervantes usually made an effort to humor him, because of his value to Blue Cosmos, but right now he was just too tired to care much, and seeing someone else get pissed made him perversely happy. "My apologies." Cervantes said, sounding insincere even to his own ears. "Pray continue with your update, Doctor."
"Very well... Mr. Zunnichi. Frost is healing well... and quickly. As I noted before he seems to be bouncing back from injuries faster and faster... the result of his body not only adapting to his biological and mechanical augmentations, but in fact incorporating them more fully into his own biologic structure. This is exactly what I predicited would happen, given the nature of the implants, so I am pleased by this result... and even a little frightened. The damage Frost took during the last battle should have killed even him... but now he will be ready for combat in two days time... a total recovery time of five days... incredible even with the highly advanced care facilities we have. It may come to the point where Frost will have to be eliminated, because the more fully the implants are integrated into his natural body, the less controllable he will become. We have time... my most cautious estimates indicate at least five years leeway... but the situation must be acknowledged. The other BCPU's were not injured during the battle and are thus still at fully ready capacity. Cray is itching for a good battle... I recommend you install him into a major offensive against heavy resistance. Ashino is much as he always is... calm, quiet, focused... I think he will best be utilized in a small but vital action... a raid on a command post or something like that."
"Once Frost heals... I recommend sending him on a hit and run assault against as juciy a target as he can find. The kill need is building to catastrophic levels within him... he has become addicted to inflicting death... he focuses on Lacus Clyne and her boyfriend as targets for his hate, you may be interested to know... but if he is not allowed to kill the enemy within a day or two of healing, make no mistake, he will kill someone here. Probably several someones. Maybe as many as a dozen or more." the Doc answered confidently. He turned and called up the status report on his own computer screen... an unessecary movement that allowed him to hide his smile of pride. Some would call it sick to be proud of Frost, but the Doc knew better. Frost was a devil given human form... and the Doc was the god who'd made him. It was a heady feeling and he took more pride in Frost's accomplishments than for any other BCPU... they were all his sons, in a way, but Frost was the favored child... though he likely wouldn't believe it. Doc loved Frost because Frost was exactly what the Doc had intended to make... it's natural for a father to love a son who is shaped by the father... and Frost had been shaped by the Doc in a way that was almost primal.
"As for the rest of the BCPU crop, within the next three months you will have the first BCPU 2's and 3's ready for tenative deployment to front line units. As of the moment there are only fifteen in the final class, but within two months of the first graduation, and every two months afterwards, another twenty five BCPU's will be ready for deployment. Within the year you will have enough to make a significant difference on the field of battle, even if they are only piloting Crusaders. If properly supervised they will become nearly as effective weapons as the greater BCPU's. As for material, well the Bane and Merciless are of course ready to go, rearmed and refueled. The Fury is still undergoing repair but it should be ready by the time the pilot is. Two additional Purifier's have been completed as well. As yet they have no qualified pilots, but I was thinking of using them as rewards for the highest performing BCPU 2 or 3 in any given class. The Judgment is just now 80 percent complete. We do not yet have a pilot worthy of the Judgment either... in truth I wouldn't trust it to a being of lesser capability than Ashino... preferably Cray or Frost. In all tests the Judgment is performing at or exceeding specifications. It is of course not the most mobile of mobile suits... it lumbers in all simulations, to be honest. But the firepower... oh the firepower. We completed a forty percent power test on the three hundred centimeter positron cannon that will be equipped on the right arm and hand... I shall send you the video. It must be seen to be believed. Other than those highlights, everything else is proceeding according to schedule."
"That's very satisfactory, Doctor. I look forward to better results in the future." Cervantes ended the call with a smile. The smile faded as he called up the most recent set of plans submitted for his approval by the Alliance generals in charge of the terrestrial campaign. "Idiots." Cervantes muttered. "Always stalling for caution... don't they realize we have to hit them and keep hitting them as hard as possible so that they do not have time to soliditate? These fools just don't seem to realize that despite our great numerical superiority, we are the less powerful force. The enemy has the advantages of advanced technology, solid morale, well established chain of command and logistics, higher ground and maneuverability. If we don't keep them off balance now, while we have the chance, we will lose the war. The PLANTS are no longer coming from behind, leaping to create a solid military force... now they have one and all they need to do is apply it to win. This calls for drastic action." Cervantes was thinking aloud without realizing it.
Not that it mattered, there was no one else to hear and even if someone did... anyone who could was a subordinate to him. "We need to strike a hammer blow... a roundhouse kick to the balls to follow up the sucker punch at Gibraltar. We need to put ZAFT on the turf where we can whomp the hell out of him with our greater mass. I think I know just the thing... Australia is a fairly useless continent anyway... no one of import lives there and this is the second time in two wars that they have sided against the rest of the world. But Australia will be just a trap... a battle to draw in their forces. It will be the feint which keeps them standing in one place, legs wide to recieve our real kick... another surprise attack on the civilian PLANTS. It is, after all, difficult to recruit for a military when there are no civilians left. And little enough to fight for besides revenge when your family is dead... and revenge never wins a war... only escalates it further, which is exactly what we need." Cervantes started typing revisions into the strategies, confident in the knowledge that the commanders would do exactly like he told them to.
"We start with what will appear to be a full on charge into the enemy main line. I think bringing in the Atlantic Federation 4th through 7th fleets along with the Eurasian 3rd and 5th fleet, the South American 2nd fleet and the Orb protectorate 1st, 2nd and 3rd fleets will be enough to convince ZAFT that we are making a major push to throw them off our planet. Which we are. Why would they think anything else, with more than one hundred thousand troops being committed to a single battle... it will be the largest battle in a hundred years. Assuming ZAFT manages to interdict the three waves of Long Range Ballistic Strategic Nuclear Missiles that will precede the attack... enough nuclear warheads to level all of Australia to the radioactive bedrock. They probably will though... at least most of them... Coordinators always seem to have the devil's own luck when it comes to escaping their rightful destruction. Meanwhile or even a little before the main attack, secondary assaults will be underway in the middle east and northern Eurasia, to deny ZAFT the toeholds they have gained there."
"In space, the twelth lunar fleet will circle around the dark side of the moon and come in on a long ballistic trajectory towards the back side of the PLANTS... in lower power stealth mode if possible. I don't expect them to go unnoticed, but with the hectic battle taking place over Australia I doubt the PLANTS will have many spare forces to send to investigate. Until it is too late, of course. I think hitting the Maius PLANTS will send the right message... cripple their manufactory capability along with their morale. The twelth lunar fleet will likely be wiped out in the attack... their sacrifice will be remembered. These plans must be implemeted with all possible haste... we need to strike the first blow in the second round of this war. Within a month if possible. In support of that I will be sending both Frost and Cray into the Australian front, under supervision by Asmodeus. Ashino will assist in the Eurasias, to help cement our backcountry."
"Now, as long as the PLANTS don't do anything too unexpected, our mobilization should go without a hitch. Of course, they probably will do something. Attack Orb or Hawaii, likely... if they could knock out both it would secure for them the entire Pacific ocean and leave the western flank of the Atlantic Federation bare of protection... an easy route into the unthinkable... a ground war on the mainland of the old United States... an event which has not occured in more than six hundred years. And will not occur for six hundred more, god willing." Cervantes leaned back in his chair. He reviewed the orders mentally, searching for any glaring flaws. Finding none, he smiled a lion's smile and pressed "send".