Back on Earth the Third Battle for Carpentaria continued to rage, regardless of the events occuring in space. The Earth Alliance forces were still battling to standstill, unable to breach the first line of defense, except for the notable exception of the Orb forces, who had become trapped between the second and first defense lines, unable to give or recieve support to or from the rest of the attack. In the atmosphere the ZAFT forces had largely mopped up the Skygraspers and jet fighters or sent them fleeing in retreat and could now descend, weary though they were, to help out with the ground war. In low orbit things were not going nearly as well for ZAFT. The remaining two Nazca class ships and their dwindling Guaize force were belaboured on all sides by the highly trained pilots of the Orb M4's. Lain Debora had accounted for three Guaizes in addition to his initial captial ship... not a bad haul for his first taste of real combat. Hard pressed, it looked like the fight in space was all but over for ZAFT... and when they lost space superiority they would lose all chance of quick resupply or reinforcement from home. A relief fleet was on the way, but not due to arrive for several more hours... by then elements of the EA lunar fleets could be in position to secure low orbit for themselves. The two ship groups of the EA that had broken past the ZAFT submarine forces had arived at about five o'clock and begun shelling the first and second lines of defense, not too threatening by itself, but combined with the balanced on a hair battle that was raging, it threatened to tip things in favor of the Earth Alliance for good.
Asmodeus was actually starting to feel good for once. The Merciless had just arrived and dropped off the Bane and Fury, the pilots for which had been rushed into medical care in order to get them back on their feet and ready for deployment as soon as was feasibly. The doctors were sceptical about Frost... his injuries would have kept a normal man in bed for months, but Asmodeus remained confident the BCPU 6 would be up and about in a few hours or days at the most... he had an astonishing capability for absorbing damage and bouncing right back. Ashino's injuries were less severe... mainly just a major concussion and a few broken bones... he'd be ready in four hours. Once the Bane joined the Merciless the fight would be all but over... two BCPU's would be far more than the hard pressed ZAFT defenders would be able to deal with. Asmodeus's good mood was ruined by a shout from the radar operator.
"Sir! We have a large contact approaching us along the Merciless's arrival course! Computers have identified the ship as the former AFSF Archangel! They are approaching us at combat speed and their weapons show powered up to combat levels!"
"Are they actually going to interfere in a full scale battle this time, rather than just sit on the sidelines and prevent either side from fighting to so called excess?" Asmodeus wondered. He snapped around. "What is the position of the Kusanagi?"
"Unchanged, sir. Still maintaining distance at roughly fifty miles to our south."
"ETA on the Archangel?"
"Three eight minutes and counting, sir." One the flight decks outside the massive Merciless was just lifting off to head for Carpentaria.
"Should we recall the Merciless, Mr. Sark?" one of the admirals asked nervously... technically he outranked the former EFSOU captain, but Asmodeus wielded an astounding amount of power and influence in his position as head of the Blue Cosmos operations department.
"No... the Merciless will maintain its ordered course of action. Divert one third of the third wave towards the Archangel and another third towards the Kusanagi... its high time they learned that there is no third side in this war."
"That only leaves a third of the wave to reinforce the forces assualting Carpentaria... will that be enough?" a general asked. The man eyed the map table, which showed that the third wave was just over half way to Carpentaria... diverting them would take time.
"With the Merciless arriving in their wake it will be more than enough. Divert those troops! I need them back here ASAP! Don't worry about formalities when engaging either... the Kusanagi attacked our missiles which is as good as attacking us. And the Archangel... I have strong reason to believe that ship is coming from attacking an EA base... they've already declared war, its our job to show them what a mistake that was." Asmodeus replied. "What's the ETA on the ZAFT submarine forces?"
"One hour ten minutes, sir"
"This is going to be close. What is the status of the merchant marine fleet?"
"They have passed through the ZAFT submarine force... losses number at twenty three ships sunk, four damaged and scuttled and twelve damaged but continuing on." the officer replied, wincing... twenty percent casualties were ruinious in most engagements. "They'll be landing in one hour and fifty minutes... about ten minutes before the third wave arrives and forty minutes before the Merciless."
"Status of mobile suit power for engaged mobile suits?" Asmodeus asked, his eyes closed as he calculated factors.
"Well, we managed to capture a few ZAFT recharging stations... most of our forces are on their third recharge... they've got power enough in the rechargers for another two recharges for each machine... about three hours at this pace."
"So Cray will only have thirty minutes to break the enemy lines enough to at least capture a few more charging stations... it'll be damned close. But he should be able to do it, especially since some of the machines can recharge off the transport ships when they arrive." Asmodeus was still thinking out loud. "Status of the twelfth lunar fleet?"
"They are proceeding on schedule except for one hitch. A single Laurasia class destroyer is driving right at them at maximum thrust... last report has the Laurasia class launching mobile suits in prepartion for combat. They'll be engaged within the half hour. A larger fleet of Nazca and Laurasia class ships is burning for that sector at flank speed, but won't arrive for at least two hours... far too late, assuming the single Laurasis doesn't pull off a mircale." an admiral replied with complete confidence. Asmodeus was not reassured... why would a single ship commit suicide like that, driving right at the enemy? Far better to stand off and harass and snipe... Laurasia class ships were fast enough to stay out of reach of mobile suits and mobile armors while still harassing the fleet enough to perhaps slow them long enough for backup to arrive. The ZAFT strategy did not make any sense... which meant he was missing something, because ZAFT did not do crazy irrational things. Something was going seriously wrong in space... he thought about contacting Cervantes again and shuddered... the last phone call had been explosive to say the least. Asmodeus had been angered and exasperated at the condition of the BCPU's and the fate of JIHAD. Cervantes had blown up... the loss of his prize base and the wounding of his prize BCPU's to a level where they could not participate in his prize plan sending him into a chomping, foaming rage. But there was no hiding from the inevitable. Asmodeus picked up the phone again. "AFFC (Atlantic Federation Force Command) please... yes, for Mr. Zunnichi again... I'm sorry to hear that, but it's of the highest importance. Just let me worry about that. Just connect me, damn you! Ah... hello, Mr. Zunnichi... yes... me again. No... I'm sorry sir, the battle hasn't been won yet. Why am I calling then? Well, sir, we may have a bit of a problem up in space..."
On the bridge of the Archangel Murrue blinked and yawned wearily. Something nudged her elbow and she looked up to find Waltfeld standing next to her a slight smile on his face. She took the proffered cup of rich brown coffee... likely from his personal store, she knew and inhaled the wonderful aroma.
"Finest warship coffee around. Took me absolute ages to perfect." Waltfeld said proudly. "But a few sips of that will keep you up through a twelve hour watch and the one after it too... there's caffeine enough in there to wake the dead."
"Mmm... doesn't taste all that caffeinated." Murrue commented.
"Well, it wouldn't, now would it? I mean, if you could taste the caffeine, what would the point be of the other ingredients?" Waltfeld said with a smile, picking up his own cup from the top of her chair. He studied the threat board intently. "Just a few of them, aren't there?" I count at least six carriers, assorted escorts and who knows what that monster in the middle is... thing looks big enough to eat the Archangel."
"Yes... we'll be on top of them in about half an hour. What should we do, you think?" Murrue asked.
"Well... now that you're asking my professional opinion..." Waltfeld sat down on the deck next to her chair and leaned back against it with a slight groan of relief. "I think we should go in with all guns blazing. I know we've tried to keep out of the major battles thus far... sit on the sidelines, prevent the use of WMDs, that sort of thing. But I just don't think that's really working out. Unless we make our presence directly known and felt we'll never get through to either side... if they don't count us as a threat then they won't respect us when we put forth a peace proposal. Its a plain fact of life... in a gunfight, nobody listens to the guy with a salad fork." Murrue could not help but chuckle... as ever, Waltfelds analogies were quite... unique.
"Are you sure we can win such a fight though? With Kira and the other pilots still recuperating... and our mobile suit forces still divided between us and the Kusanagi... if they have any sort of mobile suit force with them we'll be in a heap of trouble. I'm not so worried about the surface ships... the Archangel outclasses them all in terms of endurance and firepower... but in truth our greatest strength is denied us right now."
"I'm not sure if win is the appropriate word. We don't have to win a fight... we just have to make our presence known... and then get the hell out of there. All we have to do is survive long enough to say... take down that big ass ship and maybe another carrier or two. And then survive long enough to book it for the open ocean. We should be able to do that in one pass." Waltfeld answered. "Speaking of the Kusanagi, shouldn't we have heard from them about now?" as if summoned by Waltfelds words the Comm operator looked over.
"We have a communication from the Kusanagi coming in, Captain. They're holding position about seventy miles to our west. It's Colonel Kisaka."
"I should take up fortune telling... sometimes I'm so good I scare even myself." Waltfeld commented, sotto voce. Murrue silenced him with a smile and a gesture. She picked up the comm phone.
"This is Captain Ramius speaking." Murrue motioned for the comm operator to put Kisaka on the speakerphone.
"Captain Ramius... it's good to hear from you again. We were all very worried about you when you informed us that you were going after the kidnapped pilots." Kisaka said heavily. Murrue had to stifle a smile... Kisaka was so plainly worried about Cagalli, but was unable to ask directly without looking like an overprotective father.
"I won't say everyone is fine... but Cagalli is relatively unharmed. Just some facial and neck bruising suffered during interrogation by Blue Cosmos. Compared to say Dearka or Athrun, she got off quite lightly." Murrue replied. She stifled her smile again when Kisaka's sigh of relief became audible... he'd sighed quite a bit louder than he meant to. Perhaps realizing this, Kisaka immediately got back on the line.
"So you did manage to rescue everyone... I'm very grateful to you for that."
"Unfortunately, not everyone was rescued. Chanel Belaruse was executed by one of the BCPU's at the order of Asmodeus Sark before we could arrive." Murrue admitted with a sad shake of her head. The line was dead silent... Kisaka hadn't known the girl any better than Murrue, but he did know the girl's adoptive parents... Raine Belaruse and Alkire Majesty aka Robert Jones very well indeed.
"Robert and Raine must be heartbroken... those girls were children to them..." Kisaka's whispered voice barely came across the line. Murrue could detect more than a hint of old pain in Kisaka's voice... maybe he'd lost a child too, at some point? She didn't know all that much about the Orb Colonel's history... she'd never thought it polite to dig. "One more crime to lay at the feet of Blue Cosmos." Kisaka's voice came back strong and tough and hard as cold steel. Concern for Cagalli's well being satisfied, Kisaka returned to his usual bluff business attitude. "So what are your plans? Our sensors show you on a direct course for the EA command fleet."
"Yes... we've decided that despite our desires to prevent killing as much as possible, there is no way we can make our presence known and felt enough in this war by just sitting on the sidelines and shooting down missiles." Murrue replied. "If we are not perceived as a strong force by either side then they will not listen to us when the time comes to sue for peace. We have to make a difference and the best way to do that is to disable or destroy the agressors command ship, which is that supercarrier, unless I'm totally mistaken."
"Missiles... a sore subject. We managed to get about half of them... ZAFT got most of the rest. But seven made it through the defenses. Twenty eight warheads in all. I'm afraid... Australia is in ruins. Four major cities are just gone, as are all three major military bases. Casualties are already up in the tens of millions... radioactive fallout will likely up that more in the next few years. Ayer's Rock also took a hit... for what reason, other than pure maliciousness, we have been unable to determine. One nuke exploded in mid atmosphere and took down two of the five ZAFT warships in low orbit... the other nukes caused severe damage to the Oceania Union navy and pretty much disabled Carpentaria's third defense line. In retaliation I think ZAFT worked out some way to destroy the EA submarine forces... they've currently got seven submarine carriers and a bunch of mobile suits inbound underwater, ETA about fifty minutes." Kisaka informed them. Murrue held her hands to her mouth in horror... who would have imagined that the EA would nuke civilian targets... it was obscene. Waltfeld wasn't surprised... after the nuking of Junius Seven he had few doubts on the ability of humanity to do terrible things to itself for little reason at all.
"This only proves that we have to make our presence known... if we don't do something quick and bring this war to a swift end, I'm too sure that tragedies like this will only grow more common, not less. We're fortunate that ZAFT has so far confined itself to the less destructive WMDs... Gugnirs and the like. I don't think they're going to be nearly as pleasant in the future." Waltfeld cut in.
"I know I wouldn't be." Kisaka confirmed. "We're altering course to come up and support you. You're right... we can no longer afford to be mere peacekeepers... we must become a third side to the war... a third side that both of the other two must respect. Only then can we convince them to work together for peace. In truth it saddens me... we're back to calling for peace with guns in our hands... but that seems to be the only strategy that works."
"The media is going to crucify us for this." Murrue noted. "But that's a risk we must take. With any luck, people around the world will see this for what it is... an intervention with the intent to stop the war from escalating further... and not what it will be portrayed as... the random attacks of terrorists." A sudden alarm siren cut off the conversation. Murrue whipped her neck around to look at the CIC section. "What is it?"
"We've got mobile suit carriers inbound, Captain. ETA ten minutes and closing. Estimate twenty five carriers for seventy five mobile suits at least. Long range sensors show a similarly sized force closing on the Kusanagi."
"We've picked them up as well. Maybe they consider us more of a threat than we thought... they're certainly coming in with more than their usual heavy handedness." Kisaka said almost at once. "They've diverted two thirds of their second wave, just for our two ships... they either want us dead very badly or they think they have Carpentaria already wrapped up... neither of which reassures me."
"This doesn't change anything. It just increases the level of danger. We still have to destroy that command ship... now we have to do it before the mobile suits turn us into scrap metal. Nothing like a time limit to make you go all out, eh?" Waltfeld smirked. "Permission to go to battle stations?"
"All hands, go to battle stations!" Murrue commanded immediately. "I repeat, all hands, battle stations!"
Six decks below Kira woke with a start. He gently disengaged himself from Lacus, who mumbled in her tranquilizer aided sleep and turned over, hugging the warm spot on the bed where he'd formerly been. Kira smiled and brushed her hair away from her face... she'd suffered so much more than he had... and his suffering had been no laughing matter. He wasn't quite sure what to think, now that he knew about the Newtype phenomenom... it certainly explained a few things... but as always, it only raised more questions. As usual, "why them?" was near the top of the list. Kira quickly got dressed in his old EA uniform... the only one he could find in the slightly darkened room. His hands ached but he forced himself to ignore it... he'd heard the battle stations alert siren and he knew what he had to do. He was the only pilot capable of deployment right now... sure his hands were injured, but only the backs of them... he could fight around that easily in SEED mode. Maybe he'd regret it later... but that was better than regretting the ship exploding around him while he lay comfortably in bed. He stripped off all but the thinnest layer of bandages and was just going out the door when he felt an almost painful pinch inside his head. "Ouch..." Kira rubbed his head. He looked back over his shoulder... Lacus was staring at him, wide awake.
"So that's what that does..." Lacus murmered to herself. "Must remember to thank Katie next time I see her... never would have known to try if she hadn't mentioned it to me." Plainly Lacus wasn't nearly as awake as she looked... she never talked to herself when awake. She shook her head slightly. "You're going off to fight, aren't you?"
Kira didn't deny it. Lacus sighed. "I expected you would... you wouldn't be you if you didn't try to help others, no matter the cost to yourself."
"That's not a description that can be applied to me alone... I'm far from the only self sacrificing person in this room." Kira noted in reply. Lacus half smiled.
"I know. Just come back to me when you're done saving the world... I'll keep the bed warm for you. And don't wear yourself out too much... I've got a few plans now that we aren't in cells any more."
"I'll do my best to come back ready for anything." Kira smiled. He stepped out of the door and almost ran into Alkire.
"Going somewhere, Mr. I should be in a hospital bed?" Alkire asked.
"Yeah... I'm going to the hanger. Gotta have my exercise for the day or I get cranky." Kira replied, brushing past him.
"Funny thing... I was going there too... for the same reason. I just can't sleep at night unless I've done a bit of flying... you know, theres a nice Skygrasper on this ship that I've really been itching to take out for a spin." Alkire fell into step beside him, hands casually in his pockets. "And imagine that... but the Liberty has also been prepped to go... who'd a thunk?"
"Yeah... no kidding... it's almost like they want us to go out and pull their fat out of the fire." Kira nodded his head, playing along, wondering how Alkire had managed to get his mobile suit prepped for launch.
"Almost, yeah." Alkire aknowledged. He smirked... he really owed James and Victor one... how they and Vlad had managed to prep both the Skygrasper and the Liberty was beyond him... they must have been working almost nonstop since Murrue left the medical room. "Hey... in all seriousness... there's a lot of enemies out there. An entire fleet in front of us... at least seventy five mobile suits behind us... just as many on the Kusanagi... this isn't going to be a jaunt in the park."
"What are you trying to say?" Kira asked.
"I'm trying to say that there's a lot of good reasons for you to come back alive and in one piece... no need to try and take them all on by yourself."
"I never planned on being Horiatio at the bridge." Kira replied. "I'll take on as many as I can, no more. Just like you." They reached the hanger prep room and they both started pulling on flight suits... Kira's his normal blue, with Alkire finding a light green that fit reasonably well.
"I guess I don't exactly have to give you combat advice, huh? You've been in a lot more of these situations than I have." Alkire said with a smile. He paused for a few moments, the smile draining away. "I won't be able to avoid killing them."
"I know. I don't force my friends to follow my philosophy... it pains me when people are killed unnecessarily, but... who I am to tell someone else how to fight for survival? This is a war... I realize that. People die in wars. I try not to be the one doing the killing... but... well... it happens."
"So we friends now?" Alkire asked carefully.
"I don't fly with enemies." Kira answered. He half put his helmet on. "We have a lot of differences... moral, philosophical, historical... but we're on the same side, Alkire. I won't forget that. You choose to stand with us and support Lacus's and Cagalli's dreams for peace with your own free will... as far as I'm concerned, that makes you a man I won't ever mind standing beside." Kira put his helmet on. "Mind though, that I'm probably never going to invite you over for dinner."
"Roger that. That's all good to me. I mean, you're a great guy, Kira... God knows I wish I could have grown up with your sense of moral justice... but you're right... you and I just don't see eye to eye and I don't think we ever will. We're battle partners... not bar buddies. I'm glad we cleared the air." Alkire put his own helmet on and lightly punched Kira's shoulder. "Good luck and good hunting."
Kira tapped his shoulder back, causing Alkire to wince as the blow landed directly on one of the bullet grazes Cray had given him. "Good luck yourself... I'll be in a mobile suit... it's those jets that are deathtraps." Kira walked away, into the hangers.
"Thanks for that freaking image, you low bastard!" Alkire called after him. "Imagine, saying something like that before a life or death fight... ya gone an jinxed me!"
Kira ignored him, activating the lift wire that would carry him to cockpit level. He climbed into the familiar confines of the Liberty's cockpit... it was quite similar to that of the Freedom. He buckled himself in, winching slightly as his gloves caught on his burns... it was only barely more than a twinge though and he pushed past it. He punched the reactor start button and the Liberty smoothly powered up. He hit the phase shift, performed a five second system check that assured him that everything was operating properly and opened a comm channel to the bridge. "This is Kira Yamato, in the Liberty, requesting permission to take off."
"Kira?" Murrue's surprised voice came back to him. "You should be in bed, resting! You're wounded!"
"Believe me, there's fewer places I'd rather be than back in bed. But the situation demands otherwise... I understand we have more than a few incoming mobile suits."
"... yes... and who told you that?"
"I might have let something slip." Alkire said cheerily interrupted. "This is Alkire Majesty, in Skygrasper one, in the starboard hanger. I'm all geared up and ready to go as soon as the kid is."
"And how did you get a Skygrasper all prepared to deploy?" Murrue asked, exasperated. "For that matter, you're wounded too... you should also be in bed."
"I'll sleep on the way back from the battle... this seat is actually pretty comfortable. As for the Skygrasper... c'mon... I'm ALKIRE MAJESTY for crying out loud... you really shouldn't be surprised."
"I can see I'll be having a talk with the mechanics about hanger security in the future." Murrue sighed. "Very well... I cannot deny that your help will be greatly appreciated. You both have permission to launch... opening hanger doors now. Just be sure you both come back... there's people on board who are depending on your safe return."
"Of course." Kira replied.
"Roger that." Alkire added. "Race ya to the enemy, kid. Last one there buys the beer."
"Kira Yamato... Liberty... Taking off."
"Alkire Majesty... Skygrasper one... going all out!"
Asmodeus studied his threat displays... against all odds the Archangel had managed to deploy a mobile suit and a Skygrasper, despite Cray's assurances that all their capable pilots were injured. The mobile suit was the Liberty... which gave a very high probability that Kira Yamato was now one of his enemies. This was not a good thing... Kira Yamato had a well deserved reputation for being nigh unbeatable in mobile suit combat. And his only BCPU's were either too far way to make a difference or still recuperating. He wasn't likely to get much helpful advice from Cervantes... his boss had thrown his phone across the room at the end of the last conversation they'd had, about the Laurasia class menacing the climactic blow up in space... calling him again would only end in bloodshed... his blood. And deploying himself, in his Purifier, wouldn't balance the odds much... it may have been a superior mobile suit but Asmodeus was only a mediocre pilot at best... certainly not the sort who should be standing in the ring with Yamato. He could only sit and wait and hope the third of wave three would be able to do what no one else had yet been able to do and shoot down Kira Yamato, then destroy the Archangel. He didn't even worry about the ZAFT submarine force... if he survived the Archangel and Kusanagi he would worry about them. "All ships... prepare for anti mobile suit and anti ship warfare."
"Wow, it looks like theres even more of them than I thought from this vantage point." Alkire radioed, circling high above the Archangel. He'd attached the Aile Striker pack to the Skygrasper... his fighting style empashized maneuverability and speed, not heavy weapons. "There's at least thirty transports... they're starting to deploy mobile suits... but I might have a few things to say about that." Alkire jammed the control stick over and dropped the Skygrasper into a spinning dive, pulling up as soon as he reached the transports flight level. Using the speed from the dive and an extra special kick from the afterburners, Alkire closed the ten miles to the enemy in seconds. Most of the transports were still just starting to deploy their cargo of Strike Crusaders when Alkire reached them, beam cannons blazing, macine guns stuttering and missiles spearing from his launch bays as fast as he could trigger them. His first pass blew four transports out of the sky, trapping more than half the mobile suits aboard as they plummeted to a watery doom. "Hah! Thats what... eight or nine to my credit already! Whatta ya say to that, kid?"
Kira did not reply... a purple seed slowly dropped through his mind... bounced once... and exploded in a flash of revealing light. His hands flew across the control surfaces, activating his multi-target system. With resounding "blink" sounds his computers started labeling targets. Two... four... five... eight... twelve... eighteen... twenty four. Twenty four red target locked icons appeared on his screen. He calaculated an instant more to be sure of his points of aim and then fired. Blue-red plasma beams, yellow railgun tracers, hyphens of green beam energy and the triple orange beams of the sniper cannon screamed out of his arsenal. Target icons started dropping like flies in an ice storm... arms disintegrated, legs blown off, heads shot through... his shots kept coming and coming, each an unerring strike directly to some vulnerable but non fatal point on the mobile suit that knocked it spinning from the fight, disabled but not destroyed. Kira slowly walked his fire back and forth through the oncoming enemy, twitching aside to avoide the desultory return fire as need be, updating his multi-target system when he started to run out of red icons.
Alkire was turning around for another pass when Kira pulled out all the stops. For a moment Alkire forgot how to fly the plane, his jaw dropping. "Holy shite!" He closed his jaw and it dropped again. "The kid is a freaking god!" He started to count the disabled mobile suits, but was unable to keep up the pace... for every one he counted Kira dropped at least one more. And they were all non fatalities... the kid was shooting to disable and still maintaining that unrelenting pace. "Fine... I can tell when I'm not required. No need to hit me in the face with a sledgehammer. I'll go help the Kusanagi then."
Down below the Archangel had reached the outer ring of escort ships. Dodging or just ignoring their cannon fire... the ship's laminated armor was designed to resist far more powerful attacks than the ships could make... the Archangel opened fire with Valiants, Gottfried's and Iegelstellung. Each shot blasted easily through the light armor boasted by the destroyers and cruisers... in modern warfare ships tried to avoid getting hit in the first place... armor was a secondary concern. When the Kusanagi came storming through, anti air weapons blazing in all directions as it did all it could to dissuade the seventy plus mobile suits hounding its tail, the line of escort ships broke and routed. Alkire dived once again, coming out of the sun at the enemy, accounting for three mobile suits in his surprise attack. Unfortunately, twelve of their friends turned away from the Kusanagi and pursued him. The air around the twisting and juking Skygrasper quickly filled with far too many red-blue hyper impulse cannon blasts for his comfort.
It was at about this time that Cray finally reached land. It was about time too... seeing all that water passing below him had satrted doing funny things to his bladder... even a BCPU had to piss sometime. The third wave had arrived ahead of him, but its greatly reduced strength had done little but shore up the EA positions... without a drastic change in the balance soon, the entire attack would stall out for lack of power. Cray had passed over the merchant marine ships, still steaming for all they were worth, about ten minutes ago... that would help some, but all those infantrymen and vehicles were goning to need some place to go, otherwise they'd get shelled into oblivion on the beaches. Luckily for the EA, Cray was currently flying such a drastic change as was needed. He immediately launched both tactical nukes... one was destroyed on the way up, but the other struck home, tearing a three hundred meter gap in the second defense line. The Merciless descended into that smoking crater like meteor descending from heaven, landing with a crack like the doom of the earth itself. Cray wasted no time in stomping forward, weapons powered up and hunting for targets.
A pair of GINNs came running up, beam rifles spitting green death. Cray casually sidestepped their fire and wasted them both with a single blast from the 400mm anti armor shotgun on his right arm. More enemy mobile suits started rushing forward to fill the gap in the second defense line... BuCue's, LaGowe's, ZuOots, lots of GINN's and even a few Grendels and probably a few Efreet, even though he couldn't see them. Cray started to laugh, activating his multi-target system. It didn't take him long to fill up his target display... in truth he hardly bothered to aim at all, he just opened fire and whipsawed his firing arcs back and forth like a man spraying vegetation with a high powered hose. Hundreds of 120mm shells spat from the muzzles of his four gatling cannon, joined by the blue-red hyper impulse beams, anti armor shotgun munitions, radar guided missiles and green beams from his chest weapons. The Merciless shook like a man with palsy, threatening to be pushed backwards by its own recoil. Cray did not allow it... instead stepping forward, forcing himself ahead despite the shuddering protests from the legs of the Merciless... he knew what his machine could take and it was a hell of a lot more than it currently was. His carpet of fire blanked out his targeting sensors with backwash... even his main camera display was showing only fuzzy images and a lot of static. Cray didn't mind nor did he let up on his triggers... he knew the enemy was in a 270 degree arc around him... as long as he kept swiveling his fire back and forth in that arc he was bound to hit something. In reality, he was more than just hitting something, he was causing widespread panic and devastation. Mobile suits came forward only to be hurled back in tatters by the incredible firepower of the Merciless. Nothing could forge a path through the endless river of beams and bullets bleeding forth from the Merciless like an arterial wound that caused death to others rather than its owner. Finally a unit of five Grendels managed to disengage and circle around behind the towering enemy mobile suit. They got to within two hundred meters before Cray at last noticed them... they were in his back arc... he had nothing but CIWS back there for weapons. Many people would have been afraid... would have tried to turn and make a shot at the enemy. But the Merciless was more than just firepower... it was also a juggernaut of invincibility, though at the cost of that firepower and maneuverability. With the flip of a single switch, Cray activated his Citadel array... a lightwave barrier much like the old Umbrella of Artemis, which allowed weapons fire of all sorts neither in nor out. The greenish-white barrier swam into existence around the Merciless scant seconds before the Grendels opened fire. Three of them fired with their arm, shoulder and torso weapons, the other two used the back mounted hyper impulse cannons. The Merciless disappeared in a cloud of munitions and beam blasts. When the smoke faded it was still standing there, now half turned in their direction, completely unharmed.
"Surprise, surprise." Cray joked and blew them away with his gatling cannons and anti armor shotgun. Machine cannon fire walked along his torso, negated by the triple layer phase shift the Merciless sported. Cray ignored the cannon fire as less than beneath his notice... his armor could handle even a few beam blasts... cannon fire was nothing. He took his time in turning... showing them he wasn't worried by their fire. A triplet of missiles impacted squarely on the Merciless's head... if Cray could have made the Merciless spit in contempt, he would have then. "Is that the best you can manage?" he taunted over his speakers. He took another step forward, deliberately stepping on a mine, which exploded harmlessly beneath his foot. "Please... you worms." A LaGowe charged him, head beam sabers ignited, weaving from side to side on its jet thrusters to avoid the fire he wasn't shooting at it. Cray let it get close... and then spun the Merciless to the side. It may not have been all that graceful looking, but it was effective. The beam sabers passed within feet of the Merciless, but missed nonetheless. The LaGowe was unable to stop in time, it crashed directly into the Merciless's outflung leg, halting the smaller mobile suit as if it had hit an unyielding stone wall. With its front legs broken and smashed, the mobile suit settled weakly to the ground. Cray raised the foot it had crashed into and stomped down, grinding the cockpit section into the ground. "This is the Merciless... I think you can see why."
Heartened by the presence of this apparently unstoppable mobile suit that had appeared to aid them, the EA fought on with new vigor, while the ZAFT forces fell back in panicked disarray... what could they hope to do against the giant mobile suit that just laughed at them when they tried to destroy it? They had no champion of their own to face off with the enemy monster. The first defense line tottered on the brink of destruction, and the second was already well into routing. The second to last Nazca class came flaming down at that moment, crashing into Carpentaria harbor and sending up a huge plume of water vapor. High above, Lain Debora whooped yet again... he was fast making a legend out of himself against those ungainly warships. Carpentaria Base was hanging on by the skin of its teeth... unless something incredible happened soon it would fall. Luckily, unknown to all but the most senior commanders on each side, such a incredible thing was underway at that very moment. The twelfth lunar fleet had deployed most of its mobile suits and mobile armors, holding in reserve only those mobile armors loaded with nuclear missiles. More than fifty mobile armors and thirty Strike Crusaders were arrayed against a single Laurasia class and five experimental mobile suits. With the fate of the PLANTS and the battle at Carpentaria unwittingly hanging in the balance, Jeremiah Bornader moved forward to issue his challenge.
"This is Ace-Commander Jeremiah Borander in the Pulsar, addressing the commander of the Earth Alliance fleet... can you hear me?"
"I can hear you... space monster. What do you want?" Captain Icarus, commanding officer of the Wrath, the commanding Agamemnon class carrier, replied. He'd been given command of this fleet as a chance to prove himself to Cervantes... a successful mission would see him promoted to rear admiral at th very least.
Jeremiah winced... he was speaking to a Blue Cosmos fanatic... not exactly the most receptive of audiences. Oh well, nothing for it but to forge on ahead. "I'm warning you... divert from your course... attacking civilian targets is beyond the rules of war. Show some mercy for once... what honor does it do you to massacre helpless noncombatants?"
"Mercy... honor? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with those words. This is a war of genocide... it always has been, it always will be. I'm not massacring helpless noncombatants... I'm purging future foes and denying the enemy previous vital resources." Icarus replied coldly. "And I'm going to start with you, Commander Borander. Do you honestly think you have a chance against my fleet with just one team and a single Laurasia class? You must have been crazy to come here by yourself. I'll be doing you a favor by ending your life. All units... open fire. Target the source of the enemy transmission... I want him turned into space dust."
"I warned you." Jeremiah admonished. He brought up his hands... the Pulsar's hands. With a mere thought he flicked on the primary defensive measure of the Pulsar... the positron shield emitters. A unimaginable amount of firepower converged on the Pulsar... enough to destroy it a hundred times over. But only if it got through the positron shields. Something that all that incredible firepower singularly failed to do. Matter met antimatter and annihilated in a flash of energy so bright Jeremiah was forced to look away. When his vision cleared the Pulsar was still intact and unharmed... shield power levels had barely fluctuated. A slow grin spread across Jeremiah's face... that had been the first combat test of the positron shields. They had performed beyond even his expectations.
"That's impossible..." Captain Icarus complained to no one in particular. His gut had a sinking feeling that just wouldn't go away. "Isn't it?"
Jeremiah gunned the thrusters, pulling an easy five hundred Gees of acceleration as he went from floating idle to cruising speed, transitioning to only a few speeds in between first, so fast the transition periods were barely detectable. The Pulsar was unarmed... but it didn't really need to be... traveling at almost ten thousand kilometers per hour, a kick was just as devasting as a high caliber cannon shot, if not more so. Jeremiah put his foot entirely through the first Strike Crusader, stopping himself dead just beyond it and then cartwheeling sideways, one hand up and blocking incoming fire with its positron shield. The cartwheel ended with a foot through the torso of another mobile suit, while he tore the arm off a third with a twist of his hands. He flipped the Pulsar nimbly through space, spinning like an acrobat to avoid rushed fire from the mobile suits around him. Zero Gee martial arts were something of a hobby of his... a esoteric approach to the ancient fighting styles, but quite useful in his current situation. Fighting in zero G was all about gaining and using leverage... if you had it, you won... if you didn't you lost. With the use of thrusters he could create his own leverage and he used this to his extreme advantage. It was a proven fact that mobile suits did poorly at very close ranges... inside the reach of their arms. They simply weren't designed for punching and kicking or dodging the same. Jeremiah made sure he was never farther away than an arms length from as many mobile suits as he could manage... grabbing them, twisting limbs, throwing them into each other, pushing them, kicking them, punching them and generally tying up more than ten mobile suits with hand to hand martial arts. He disarmed a Crusader and blasted it with it's own weapon before spinning over a badly swung beam sword to kick another mobile suit's head right off it's shoulders. He jammed the barrel of the hyper impulse cannon into the gut of another suit, ruining the weapon and deeply denting the torso armor. He reveresed the weapon and belted the damaged mobile suit with it, finally caving in the cockpit section and causing the weapon to detonate, sending pieces of mobile suit spinning in all directions. The Pulsar was already long gone from that area... one hand gripped the severed arm of yet another mobile suit, ripped off by the Pulsar's unyielding grip as it accelerated away. Floating dead in front of the Pulsar was a Crusader who'd been stupid enough to try and grapple the Pulsar and had come along for the ride... and the three thousand G stop at the end. The pilot of the grappling mobile suit was currently painted on the inside of his otherwise perfectly functioning mobile suit. Jeremiah looted the hyper impulse cannon from the unresisting Crusader and spun around, seeking new targets. The four Elementals were engaged with the mobile armor troops... and coming out far ahead. Regular GINNs were more than a match for mobile armors... Elementals were two generations more advanced than GINNs... it was a slaughter.
The Strike Crusaders were blundering about, searching for him on their short range scanners, unaware that was currently about two hundred kilometers above them. Or below them, depending on how one chose to orient oneself. That was one reason Jeremiah loved space... the freedom of perspective it offered was exhilirating. He dived/climbed back towards them, firing the cannon repeatedly as he went. Of course the weapon overheated within seconds... but not before he'd blown six mobile suits out of his space. He took out two more by handing the overheating weapon off to them as he zipped by faster than their eyes could follow. He flipped around again without slowing and came around for another pass, fingers hooked like claws. As he thundered by this time around he tore the hands off two more Crusaders... two Crusaders that had beam swords in hand. Now that he had in hand. After that the mobile suit battle was pretty much over. Against an unarmed mobile suit like the Pulsar the Crusaders had been slow and ineffective... against one armed with two beam sabers they were nothing more than drifting targets. It was the work of only a few minutes to wipe out the entire thirty mobile suit force. He hadn't even broken a sweat. Discarding the two beam swords, he headed for the fleet. Escort ships tried to blow him away with barrages of missiles... all of which exploded harmlessly against his positron shields. Destroyers fired broadsides of cannon shells at him... it was almost pathetically easy to circle around so quickly the cannon turret mechanisms flamed out trying to track him. He landed on the prow of one of the Agamemenon carriers, directly in front of one of the twin beam cannons. The captial ship weapon oriented on him immediately. Jeremiah kicked the turret mount so hard he disabled its turret mechanism and sent it spinning around in a circle. Laughing jauntily, he strolled across the top of the carrier over to the other cannon, which was turning his way. He jammed his palms over the cannon muzzles and activated his shields. Both barrels fired and immdiately backed up and detonated, taking out a sizable section of the ship's hull. Bored, he cartwheeled back over to the still spinning turret and stopped it with a foot, so it was aimed at its own bridge. After a brief scan of the weapon mount, he located the manual triggers. He rammed the Pulsar's fist through the armored hull plating and gingerly felt around inside the newly ventilated compartment. With the gentle prod of a single finger he triggered the firing mechanisms, sending twin lances of beam energy directly into the ship's bridge, annihilating it in a cloud of burning gasses.
"Launch the nuclear force. Get those missiles on their way!" Icarus ordered frantically.
"But sir... at this range they have less than a 20 percent chance of hitting their targets." one of his aides protested.
"Better than the zero percent chance they have of hitting when that monster mobile suit comes over here and destroys us too!" Icarus screamed. "Fire the damned missiles!"
The Carnot had opened fire on the escort ships, blowing them out of space in a series of firecracker detonations... lured out of positon by the Pulsar, they were easy prey for the highly trained and motivated crew of the Carnot. The sensor officer immediately recognized the launching signals coming from the two remaining Agamemnon's. "Sir, I have multiple mobile armor launches from the Agamemnon class carriers. Heat and size signatures match those of the mobile armors that carried nukes against Boaz." the officer paused and frowned. "Sir, I'm detecting multiple launches... they're firing their missiles from here!"
"Chance of hitting the PLANTS?" the captain asked anxiously.
"Less than twenty percent at best, sir."
"Still too much. Can we intercept?"
"We can't sir... but the Pulsar has shown itself to be fast enough so far..."
"Get me Jeremiah!"
Jeremiah was currently dispatching the second escort Agamemnon, using the Pulsar's amazing speed and turning abilities to circle around the ship in a tornado like maneuver. The CIWS systems and main guns tried to track him but were unable to even begin to turn fast enough to draw a bead on him... panicked fire actually struck and disabled one of the 250 meter destroyers. Jeremiah finished his spinning maneuver with a twirling flyby of the bridge areas, clawing fingers tearing out the armored windows and exposing th bridge crew to hard vacuum far faster than any of them could secure their helmets onto their heads. While the bridge crew was still dying horrible deaths from explosive decompression, Jeremiah soared upwards for twenty kilometers before flipping around and reversing trajectory. Thrusters firing for all they were worth, Jeremiah extended his arms and activated both positron shields. Flying at a speed of more than three kilometers per second, the Pulsar's shields impacted on the top hull of the carrier, denting them inwards and then crushing through the thick armor like it was tin foil. Unable to resist the impregnable positron shields, especially moving at the speed they were, the Agamemnon carrier bent, twisted and buckled right down the middle, breaking in half a few seconds after the Pulsar punched out the bottom armor. His throat comms buzzed, alerting him to an incoming communication. "Jeremiah here."
"Commander Borander! This is the Carnot! Be warned... the enemy fleet has launched their nuclear armed forces... and those forces have fired their missiles. Their chances of hitting the plants are low... less than twenty percent per missile, but that is of course still far too risky. We are unable to intercept the missiles... they are already out of our line of fire."
"Understood, Carnot. I'll take care of it." Jeremiah switched channels. "I'm leaving the fleet for your guys to mop up... the Elementals don't have the speed to catch up to those missiles."
"Yes, sir!" his four teammates replied in unison.. One of them stayed on the line... the man piloting the unaugmented Elemental. "Are you sure you can catch up to them yourself, sir? Those missiles have a pretty good head start."
"We'll find out, won't we?" Jeremiah replied. He flipped the Pulsar around and once again gunned his thrusters. With a flick of a finger muscle he modified the timing of the heat up/cool down cycle of the FPR... boosting power up to one hundred ten percent, all of which he diverted to his thrusters. The Pulsar shrieked through space, its structural frame vibrating wildly under the stress, cooling canes starting to glow white hot. "C'mon... hold together..." Jeremiah muttured.
"Coolant heat levels rising into the yellow zone. Thruster output shows one hundred fourteen percent. Current speed estimated at 5 kilometers per second and rising. ETA to closest missile is two zero seconds." Noah called to his uncle, monitoring the Pulsar's systems through his remote link. While he talked, one eye never left the brainwave data being beamed to him... he was getting a good haul of maneuvering and hand to hand patterns. His brilliant mind hooked on a sudden oft repeated detail... there was a slight hitch... a delay in his uncle's thought patterns. It only showed up whenever he swtiched targets or changed from manuevering to fighting and vice versa. It was almost like the NIC system was applying inertia of a sort to his Uncle's thoughts... trying to focus them in only one direction at a time... the hitches were getting long and longer as the combat wore on... Jeremiah hadn't realized it but there had been a one point four second delay between his verbal response to the Carnot and his physical response. Noah was intruiged... if he was interpreting things right, the NIC system was trying to adapt the pilot to some plan of its own... the NIC system was as close to an artificial nervous system as had ever been created, and it seemed to be learning from its pilot even as it was used as a control system. And not only was it learning, it was trying to impose its "desires" on its pilot. An interesting side effect to the Flaw Noah had not expected... but now seemed obvious. When the NIC learned enough from its pilot it would attempt to take control of his actions, superimposing its learned signals over the impulses created by the pilot's nervous system... what effect this would have on the pilot was unknown, but Noah could guess with reasonable certainty that since the human nervous system was not designed to conduct high intensity electrical signals like the Pulsar used to control itself, the results would be relatively final. Noah had no idea how fast the NIC could learn... but it seemed to be pretty fast, given that it was already starting to interfere with Jeremiah's actions to a noticable extent.
The Pulsar caught up to the first missile and struck out in passing with a single fist, denting the thruster section of the missile inwards, causing the nuke to veer wildly to the side, corckscrewing off into deep space. Now approaching a cluster of missiles twelve strong, it was all Jeremiah could do to lash out with sweeps of his positron shields, knocking the missiles off course or crushing their fragile bodies with pushes from the magnetically contained anti-matter fields. Activating the shields slowed him a bit... at most speeds the shields had no effect on his speed, but at his current velocity the shields were hitting so much interstellar dust and gas that the explosions were actually acting as counter thrust. He was still flying faster than the missiles though and he caught up to the second cluster. Holding his arms out and back, he spun the Pulsar wildly, dragging his positron shields like nets of antimatter behind him, disintegrating missiles left, right, top and bottom as he passed through the cluster. Only one cluster and a pair of leading missiles left... only one thousand kilometers to the first PLANT in the path of the missiles... Mauis Ten. Jeremiah disengaged his shields... he needed every microsecond speed could grant him now. He caught up to the cluster of missiles and reached out with both arms, grabbing the trailing missile and diverting its course slightly and then gave it a boost with his own thrusters, causing the forty ton missile to skip forward at an angle, striking and destroying three other missiles. Pleased with this maneuver, Jeremiah repeated it twice more. Then he only had two missiles remaining... two missiles and three hundred kilometers... fifty seconds at his current speed. The missiles were fifteen seconds ahead of him, both on lucky direct courses for the colony. Jeremiah threw the Pulsar into what might have looked like a headlong dive, pushing both hands out and ahead and moving the feet straight back so he ws flying through space like some superhero of old. He caught up with the missiles with thirty seconds to spare... it was too dangerous to use the shields to destroy them at this range as the missiles were probably already armed by this point and a single impact might cause a detonation that could damage or destory the colony. Punching out their thrusters was also not an option... at this point a random course could lead to them crashing into another PLANT. There was only one course of action... and it was sheer madness. Jeremiah shrugged the Pulsar's shoulders... brilliance... madness... who could tell these days?
"Uncle..." Noah said with geniune worry... he may not have looked upon his uncle with respect, but he still loved him as family... Jeremiah certainly treated him better than his parents did. Noah was also worried for the people in the PLANT... he may have been an egotistical, manipulative little bastard, but he was as much a Coordinator as the next... he remembered Junius Seven as well.
"I got this, don't worry!" Jeremiah called back. "This'll be one for the history books... good or ill." he muttured after shutting down the comm line. He caught up with the two missiles, which were flying almost parallel, about twent feet apart. Stretching his arms wide, he spun the Pulsar like a top so its thrusters were facing towards the PLANT, flying backwards through space. In the instant before the GRS activated and redirected his momentum, his arms clamped down the forward sections of the missiles... as gently as he could manage while still maintaining a strong grip. To his immense relief, the missiles did not detonate. Then the GRS kicked in and the Pulsar screamed in metal agony as the GRS struggled to cope with the stresses of redirecting a seventy five ton object traveling at six point seven kilometers per second into a trajectory exactly one hundred eighty degrees opposite its former heading. Feedback raced up and down the NIC wires, causing them to spark and glow in the GRS gel. the sensation was somewhat like having his skin slowly ripped off as a whole single piece. He could feel the gel compressing around him... could hear the structure creaking and settling... could smell the gel starting to cook and crisp around some of the NIC wires... could taste the sensation of burning flesh on his tongue as one of the comm wires started to conduct heat from the ceiling. He didn't dare look at his cooling system indications as he twitched the Pulsar up to one hundred thirty percent power.
Alarm sirens and warning lights popped up on Noah's computer faster than he could click them off. Coolant overheating... structure fractures... thruster overtemp warnings... melting paint and armor... imminent GRS failure... FPR systems starting to meltdown... he just kept clicking override, not daring to cut in the safety systems which would shut down the mobile suit... and allow the two missiles to strike the helpless colony. either the mobile suit would hold steady through stresses at or beyond its design tolerances... and the PLANT would be saved... or else it would fail and detonate in an explosion that would utterly drown out the paltry nuclear missiles. To the people who happened to be in positions to watch from the inside of Maius Ten, it was an almost surreal sight. A single overwhelmingly bright blue drive flame twinkled in the lower east sky, framed on either side by the orange warheads of two nuclear missiles, visible through simple binoculars. The Mobile Suit holding on to the missiles and attempting to overcome their inertia was barely visiblee around its drive flame... all most people could see was twelve spiky projections that were glowing such a bright white color it was impossible to look at them without causing damage to the eyes. A hundred thousand people felt their breath catch in their throats as the mobile suit was force inexorably towards the colony by the twin thrusters of the missiles... each putting out more than eight hundred thousand pounds of thrust. It seemed impossible that a single mobile suit could output the kind of thrust needed to counteract the momentum of the missiles. The Pulsar's thrust backwash struck the outer surface of the tens of meters thick armored transparent alloy that formed the giant window panes that framed each PLANT. The Pulsar was slowly winning out against the missiles... his backward speed was down to only thirty meters per second. Thruster backwash melting runnels in the alloy, the Pulsar's feet came down to rest on the alloy window. The missiles were now held only eight meters from their impact points and were inching downwards for all they were worth. The missiles seemed almost alive... eager to reach their targets and explode, sending the helpless civilians inside flailing out into the cold embrace of space.
"I... Don't... Think... So!" Jeremiah gritted out. FPR power was up at one hundred fifty percent... the legs of the Pulsar were starting to bend backwards. Reactor power continued to rise as he mentally held down the override button, despite the searing agony of feedback he felt... he couldn't let another Junius Seven happen... he would rather die the most hideous and painful of deaths first. At one hundred sixty four percent power, the Pulsar finally overwhelmed the forward momentum of the missiles. At one seventy percent power... with so many alarms blaring on his computer that he could no longer read any of the data he was receiving... Noah observed the Pulsar actually start pushing the missiles back, centimeters at a time at first, but quickly speeding up. Once he'd pushed the missiles a good kilometer from the PLANT, Jeremiah flipped the Pulsar around again, spinning the missiles around as he did so, so that now all three of them were pointed back they way they came. He slowly eased back on reactor power... wincing as the Gel continued to heat up around him as the Pulsar's cooling systems struggled mightily to preserve the integrity of the reactor plant. "I believe these are yours?" Jeremiah contacted the Alliance commander through gritted teeth. "I've always believed somewhat in a catch and release policy."
"How did you... what did you..." Icarus sputtered before his sharp mind figured out what he was seeing on the sensor screen. The impossible enemy mobile suit... what was it called again... was coming back towards the ragged remains of his fleet, who were barely holding off the four other ZAFT mobile suits. And it was coming back fast... sensors showed speeds of seven kilometers per second and increasing steadily. It would be on top of them in minutes. It's speed made no sense... it hadn't moved that fast before, even when going at what had to be all out thrust. But then what the pilot had said clicked... he was riding the missiles back. He'd somehow managed to turn them completely around and now he was combining his thrust with theirs, using them like afterburners. "ALL HANDS, ABANDON SHIP!" Icarus cried, wasting no time in heading for the exit himself... no sense in dying for a lost cause... he was ashamed that he'd failed this mission... his career in Blue Cosmos was over. But there were other powerful figures looking for supporters out there. Some people he knew had whispered of a man called Dullindal...
Thirty kilometers from the remains of the EA fleet, Jeremiah released his grip on his captured missiles and slowly decelerated. He'd already ordered his team out of the line of effect almost immediately after he'd turned the missiles... no sense in nuking his own side. It was getting warmer than a hotspring inside his gel cockpit... the Pulsar's cooling systems were still laboring overtime due to his abuse of the FPR. But he did not head back to the Carnot just yet... this deserved to be watched. Both missiles flew unerringly, as if aimed by the hand of some higher power, directly into the Wrath, detonating in twin explosions of purple white light that grew into globes of destruction that utterly wiped any trace of the twelfth lunar fleet from existence. Jeremiah breathed a huge sigh of relief... once again, the PLANTS had been saved by the thinnest of margins.
Down on Earth, Asmdoeus slammed his fist into his chair arm in frustrated anger. He'd just finished receiving the shamefaced report from Captain Icarus. The Admirals and Generals looked over at him apprehensively. "All forces... withdraw at once. The battle has been lost. I repeat... all forces, withdraw at once." Asmodeus ordered harshly.
"Withdraw? But we have them on their last legs! The infantry and armor forces are just starting to land! We can still wipe them out!" a general protested. Asmodeus skewered him with his icy gaze and the man fell back a step.
"We could do that. We could sit here and let ourselves be killed by the Archangel... the Kusanagi... and the ZAFT submarine forces as well. Fat lot of good that would do the ground forces... cut off without central command and a way home, where would that leave them? At the mercy of the soon to be reinforced enemy, that's where. Face it, gentlemen... with the loss of the twelfth lunar fleet, this war will continue... and this battle is lost. To continue would be folly... we'd be throwing our forces into a meat grinder... we're going to need them to defend against ZAFT's counterblow."
"Counterblow?" an Admiral asked.
"ZAFT defeated the twelfth lunar fleet with five mobile suits... four new mass production models and a fifth suit unlike any that has ever been seen. I'm still downloading the data on it... but from the report it sounds like the machine physically caught two nuclear missiles and forced them to reverse course. Any mobile suit of a power even approaching that level is an imminent threat to all of Earth. We need to pull back, reorganize and reconfirm our intelligence before we make any more decision that might lead us into another Little Bighorn. Give the orders and start moving the fleets back... now is the time to live again to fight another day." Asmodeus looked out at the fleet engagement going on outside... the mobile suits he'd pulled from the third wave were just barely managing to keep the Kusanagi and Archangel at bay... largely due to the intervetion of Kira Yamato, who decimated any forces who dared approach within weapons range of the Liberty. The Skygrasper had also proved to be a formidable foe... through some of the most impressive evasive maneuvers Asmodeus had ever seen, the pilot had managed to trick three of its pursuers into shooting their own comrades down... it must be Major Jones in the cockpit, with that record... and then Yamato had finished off the rest with almost casual ease. As Asmodeus watched the Liberty suddenly pulled up short and then rocketed off towards Carpentaria.
"Sir... the Merciless refuses to respond to the withdraw order." a sailor cried. Asmodeus sighed... he suddenly knew where the Liberty was headed... always the knight in shining armor, Kira was... couldn't stand the slaughter of innocents... which, knowing Cray, was exactly what he was up to.
Cray had found several refugee bunkers, places where the support staff and noncombatant families of the Carpentaria troops had gone to hide when the battle began. He'd put down his arm weapons and used the Merciless's hands to scoop off the meter thick metal roofs of the bunkers to reveal the screaming people within, like crowds of wriggling pink sardines. Long range cannon fire bounced harmlessly off the Merciless's back and shoulders as he bent down and swept his hands through the press of civilians, crushing dozens and picking up five people per hand. "Whee!" Cray cried joyfully, flinging them high into the air in an arcing throw. He'd brought the hands back for the next group before the first Coordinators started to fall like obscene raindrops around the Merciless. The next group he tossed straight up, so that they splattered against the head, torso and shoulders of the Merciless like rotten fruit, giving the mobile suit a red polka dotted appearance. He worked the Merciless's arms tirelessly, crumpling mobs of people up into flesh balls and hurling them at any ZAFT vehicles that approached within hail mary distance. He nailed one GINN right on the photo-eye with a ball of fourteen middleschoolers, all mostly crushed together into a sort of potpourri, but still twitching and screaming... until they hit anyway. From the way the GINN staggered back, one would have thought it had actually sustained serious damage, rather than just a new layer of filth on its paint. A message light flashed insistently on his comm board, but he ignored it... he was having too much fun to be interrupted.
"And now for my next trick... a break dancing mobile suit!" Cray crowed happily, moving over to the next full bunker. He didn't bother to open the roof on this one... instead he just leaped on it, feet first, crushing it in like a man stamping down on a soda can. The Merciless was not designed to break dance. Or dance period. Cray mostly just threw it into convulsions, dropping onto the ground, rolling back and forth, kicking out with arms and legs in random patterns, looking for all the world like a giant man being simultaneously electocuted and burned alive. He rubbed off a lot of the human smears on his shoulders from the people-rain, but gained many, many more from crushing hundreds of refugees beneath his torso and legs as he lolled about, immune to the fire and smoke and falling debris. When he finally brought the Merciless back to it's feet, it's legs were solid red from the knees on down, and more red than paint scheme of black, purple and silver from knees to hips. The palms of the hands were also dyed a deep crimson from making snowballs... err... peopleballs. It would take some serious cleaning when he got back... but blood didn;t cut down on mechanical effectiveness in such comparatively small quantities.
"Aww... I think I broke them..." Cray gestured at the ruined bunkers... formerly full of people, now only ravaged tombs. "Will the rest of you play with me instead? Oops... theres one more group!" Cray swept his hands down and came up with a group of twelve high school girls... it was too bad... some of them were pretty cute. He trapped them between the Merciless's cupped hands and looked out at the dozens of incoming ZAFT mobile suits. "Uh uh uh! I've got hostages!" he called out as loud as his speakers could manage.
"How can we negotiate in good faith with you, seeing as we have the atrocities you've committed?" a strained and tense voice answered from the closest mobile suit, the GINN he'd plastered with a peopleball.
"Aww... come on... it wasn't that bad was it?" Cray mocked him. "I mean, I only just crumpled up little kids and girlies and threw them at you. Or rolled around and crushed them. Or flung them up to fall to their deaths. It was funny... wasn't it? I certainly got a hoot out of it."
"You make me sick... you Natural monster!" the GINN pilot retorted, drawing a sword and stepping forward.
"Ah ah... not unless you want a second peopleball to the face." Cray cooed, slightly tightening the Merciless's hands, to a chorus of panicked screams from the girls in his grip. The GINN froze in midstride.
"What do you want, you bastar..." Cray cut off the Coordinator by blowing the GINN apart with his shoulder gatling cannons.
"That's what I wanted... I wanted you to get just a little closer so I could be sure to hit you with all four guns." Cray replied. A sudden new threat appeared on his radar screen... it was moving too fast to be any ZAFT mobile suit he knew of. He called up a visual display. "The Liberty... how delicious. Sorry girls... I need one more peopleball. And guess who the lucky canidates are?" Cray cut off their protests by grinding the Merciless's palms together... flesh goo and bright blood squirted from between the giant fingers as he worked the mass of bodies into a cohesive shape, roughly like that of a ball. "Let's see how the goody goody I don't kill people Coordinator handles this curveball... wonder if he'll faint like the pansy he is?" Cray wondered out loud before winding up... taking careful aim... and hurling the ball at the approaching Liberty with all the strength the Merciless could muster.