Disc
Phase 07: Defection
- - -
All at once, the touch of an unknown signal burst throughout Bianca Tanner's central nervous system. She could not tell where or why she was, only that the signal was the only thing that kept her from falling back into the folds of the deepest sleep she could ever recall experiencing. She struggled to make sense of colorful blurs coming to her eyes, of the vague sounds that occasionally reached her ears in the guise of words.
Hungry. So hungry. She felt numb throughout her body, possibly by what she imagined would be a very cold metallic pallet normally. Cold seemed to radiate from it along with the walls of the small room she'd woken up in. A medical ward, by the looks of it. Vision slowly clearing, she could make out two similarly-dressed people standing near the glass door, not unlike-
Anno Domino officers!
Now she remembered. She'd been stuck in a far smaller chamber before, when Admiral Yamato had delivered news of her sentence, and then forcibly jammed a powerful sedative into her arm. She could have been out for weeks. Months, even!
"Don't blink", one of the blue-suited men was advising her. "Your eyesight needs time to refresh itself."
Of course, that was what they were doing by reflex action. She couldn't place either the voice or face, only knew that Yamato was not there, and neither were any of his black-suited troops, just two other officers, plus whoever was watching them from the transparency above and to her left.
Like the rest of her, her vocal cords felt sluggish from lack of use. "Where… How long… was I out for?"
"About five days", the helpful officer said. "It would have taken less time, but it's been so very long since we had one with a sentence such as yours. Like your senses right now, our surgeons had gotten sluggish from lack of use."
Surgeons? Sentence? What…? "What the hell is going on here?!"
The other officer was clearly older, had a gruff, atonal voice that sounded like a predator viewing prey. "To sum it up, petie… you're in the army now. I'm sure my friend Yamato explained the whole bit to you. He's very serious about explaining it to new intitiates, heh heh."
She paused for a moment, both to get a better look at the two men, and to wait for the older one's echo to fade, leaving them in utter silence. The older man on the right was now visibly recognizable by his baton of rank as an Admiral, and Bianca projected the old defiance at him in her response.
"Then I guess Yamato never told you what I told him: I will NEVER join you!"
Before she lunged, Admiral Gisbourne nodded upwards at the one-way transparency above them, and a new sensation stopped the young woman in her tracks, instantly falling to the metal floor and clutching at her head.
The sensation was familiar in some ways, but at the same time far beyond any standard of pain she had ever established in her life. Feeling like it bloomed from somewhere in the forehead, it seared through her, turning any and all thoughts away from attacking the Admiral or escaping, and towards only what it would take to make the pain stop.
After a period of time indeterminable to the receiver, the searing feeling abruptly ceased, and she had to fight hard to breathe a most heartfelt sigh of absolute relief at her savior. Her savior, who was now grinning defiantly above her, knowing that she did not need any further clues to put the pieces together into a horrifying picture of the AD Legion Corps.
Surgical implants in the temples beneath the skull. That was how they maintained control over hardened criminals, made them over into soldiers, by simply broadcasting a signal to the implants whenever any of them acted out of line. Every single one of Anno Domino's soldiers was a convicted criminal, cowed into submission by the basic language even the deaf and the blind could understand- the language of indescribable, irresistible pain.
While Bianca desperately hoped that one could accumulate mental resistance over time, in that first unguarded moment, she would have done anything, anything to make the pain stop. That shocked her almost as badly as the realization itself.
Gisbourne sighed as if he had seen this routine a thousand times- not an unreasonable assumption. "Come on now, girl. Enough melodramatics. We have a uniform and an electric razor with your name on it in the barracks. Would you care to lead the way?"
Gasping in short breaths, as though mustering the strength to resist agony incarnate, she stood nonetheless, radiating the utmost disgust. They still didn't know her name, and now they were going to shave her bald. "Alright. You win… for now."
"Wrong, pet", the other officer gloated. "Forever."
- - -
Jakob Daravon's latest meeting stood apart from the countless others he had experienced in more ways than one. For starters, he was the one who had called it, for once feeling an overwhelming need to compare notes with his primary benefactors- the top brass of Anno Domino.
He had also not attended many meetings held in the very core of said army's base of operations, the Lunar base on the moon. This room, hidden beneath the normal security of the more 'public' meeting room, held ten cushioned chairs encircling a disproportionately long black table. Jakob could easily notice that this room held no cameras, and required not one, but two ID codes of an Admiral or higher to even open the soundproof door.
Lastly of all, he had never before been forced to present Supreme Commander Lore Golavinsky with bad news.
One by one they filed in, taking seats not too near but not too far from the boss. Admiral Gisbourne, bearing a modest head and chin of olive-colored skin, topped by hair obviously dyed shiny silver. His fellow Deva, the spiky brown-haired Yamato, still the youngest of those gathered here today even with their newest addition… Admiral Aron Defoe, who sported a wild mane of hair a darker shade of brown than Yamato's, and a squinty look that easily conveyed his nervousness at being here.
Then there was the only other man beside himself not of military background, and the only one who did not require a chair. Premier Kagebarai Orpheon sat as he always had- in the hovering construct created by his own hand, to support both his crippled legs and his aging body. The wispy, dark purple-haired leader of the House of Orpheon's skills were no surprise considering the nation's specialty in neural computer uplinks. Jakob inwardly suspected that before long, Premier Kagebarai- as he preferred to be called- would have to install a voice box on the hover chair to convey his words as well.
That left only Supreme Commander Golavinsky and himself. Easy to forget about the latter given the state of things, but no one would soon forget about their boss. Former Russian war hero 'Golav' was the oldest next to Kagebarai among those present, his naturally silver beard and hair flowing together with the rest of his pale face to convey degrees of harsh wisdom, if not compassion.
"If everyone is settled in", Golav spoke slowly, focusing on the two civilian leaders, "I would think a refresher of purpose is in order."
Alternately eager to get it out of the way and dreading a possible backlash, Jakob nodded both to the Supreme Commander and his business partner Kagebarai, then cleared his throat. "Yes, commander. I bring Anno Domino news that may affect your future plans in many regards. I'm sure everyone here remembers the joint venture of our nations known as the Ignition project, and it's offspring, the FATE Equation Project."
Golav inclined his head accommodatingly. "Few of our special projects have been of greater secrecy. For those who haven't heard the latest, Shyron started its recent military resurgence by capturing two of the units promised to us."
"Captured?" Kagebarai let his wisened eyes convey the emotions his vocal cords no longer could. "That is difficult to believe. Did we not agree to disguise the shipment as a normal supply convoy? Those machines were carrying some of our most advanced and expensive neuro-computers, Daravon."
"However it may have happened", Bryce's father pushed forward gravely. "That mishap has now been compounded. A few days after, the last machine disappeared as well, along with my son, the chief designer."
While Golav received this news in silence, the rest of them did not seem nearly as stoic, quickly shifting glances and unpleasant mutterings upon each other, but mainly directed at the two civilians. "So you are saying your own son stole the last one", Kagebarai observed bitterly. "Any particular reason why he betrayed five years funding and private work, or is he merely a completist?"
No one laughed. Jakob studied the table closely as he gaged his reply: "It may have been possible… that he wished to save Edwina, bless her heart, who, against my orders, decided to supervise Admiral Landon's last battle."
"Landon is dead", Yamato noted sadly, also staring down at the table. "Only six ships of the expeditionary fleet survived, and they confirmed it. But that still doesn't explain why the last machine would also be placed into the hands of Shyron."
WHAT? Impossible! "That's…. I find that highly unlikely. May I ask where you received word of this?"
"From our cell of infiltrators aboard the Shyron Exodus colony", Golav answered him crisply. "They spotted the third machine coming in, although they could not make out the pilot. I've already ordered them to set in motion plans to retake or destroy them. You understand why, do you not?"
No… My son... my son… what have you done? "Yes", Jakob stammered helplessly, "but I would greatly appreciate viewing the actual evidence. A clip, perhaps?"
But Kagebarai shook his withered head in condemnation, moving the chair portion of his hover-sled into a steeper angle with the push of a square button. "The spies would not transmit visual files over encryption frequencies, Jakob. It makes them too easy to intercept. All we have is their word, is that correct?"
"If it makes it any easier, Daravon", young Yamato said earnestly, "We only recently received this information. It is not yet confirmed. And your son may not be responsible for this."
Yet I know he is alive, somewhere. His team's last report was… strange. Different. He managed a weak smile for the meeting's sake. "Thank you for that, Admiral Yamato. At the same time, I bring other news in regards to this project. I've received the preliminary design reports from the original team. However, it also came with a request for job transfer. With a different DES team running it, creating new Mobile Suits from scratch may be more difficult than the first time around."
"It seems this project has met with setback after setback", Gisbourne commented darkly. "First the disaster with the original prototype- the one we originally found for you, and now this treachery."
For once, Jakob could not hide his outburst. "If you mean to imply that my nation, my people-"
"-we have paid exorbitant amounts of money for-"
"-have never needed them before, and-"
"-I do not rule my people through fear-"
"ENOUGH!!!!!"
For once united as one body, Yamato, Gisbourne, and Jakob all looked up at Lore Golavinsky's now-foreboding gaze. "Ill fortune should not be blamed upon ye who suffers it", the Supreme Commander quoted bitterly, actually scaring the three men back into their seats with his drill sergeant's bark. Calming himself down now, he returned to his seat at the head of the table. "We did not come here to bicker amongst ourselves as the old Masters did. …Premiers Daravon and Orpheon. Do you honestly believe that these new weapons are worth continued effort to produce?"
Jakob scratched his chestnut beard, shot a wary look towards Kagebarai Orpheon's withered body. The truth of that answer not only hinged upon whether or not he could find someone as talented as Bryce, but whether or not old Kagebarai's nation could- or would- produce more top of the line neuro-computers to install within them. The other leader seemed to sink in his brown, cracked skin for a moment, than rewarded him with a slow, silent nod of approval.
"I believe so, commander", Jakob replied slowly, breathing a silent toast to the House of Orpheon and its leader. Kagebarai's going to find a little present from me coming into his country tommorow. Two-thousand crates of lumber, I think. "I've already requisitioned another team, along with the single remaining member of DES Team 18, to begin work on them."
Still unsatisfied, Gisbourne harrumphed enthusiastically in his seat. "Why use a rookie team? Just force the damn slackers back to work on it. I'll even give you one of my units to guard them if you want."
Jakob managed a fake-nice laugh at the 'generous' offer. "Well, we… we, we don't do that kind of thing. At least I don't. Besides, without my son… the real genius of that team is lost. Team 14- Dr. Mandell's group- is almost as good. And, in order to speed up the process, which I believe is now more important for us now than before, I had planed to reduce the construction time put into individual models and neuro-computers. As a result, these Mobile Suits will not be nearly as powerful or agile as the specimens we have just lost… but capable of mass-production. I can guarantee you we will have the first batch shipped out to you inside a year, and many more after that."
"That's very generous of you", Defoe approved, as if desperate to actually say something in his nervousness. "You were right to think that information has an effect on our future plans regarding the House of Shyron, correct?"
"Agreed", Golavinsky said. "If the specs on the initial machines are correct, Shyron will gain a decisive firepower advantage over us if they are able to use the three captured Mobile Suits before we have some of our own. Therefore, I move that we merely sit back and defend all of our current territory, continuing the buildup of ships and troops for striking at Shyron's colonies until this project bears fruit."
Yamato agreeably raised one hand out as if gesturing to the very planet they orbited. "In any case, Commander, it's a proven fact that we are experiencing a larger amount of civil unrest on Earth than the usual, particularly in the South American nations. We can't tell what's causing it yet, so we may need to keep our troops at home. Once we have the counter to their Valkyrie jets, the destruction of the House of Shyron can serve as a harsh example to the rest."
"Very well. All in favor of this plan?"
He waited expectantly for a moment, and it still took Jakob a moment to remember that Golav's ruling was not a complete veto. Being a unique military organization that existed independently and answered to no government, the top brass of Anno Domino all had a say in their actions. Lore Golavinsky was the highest-ranking officer, but his support constituted only a quarter of the majority of the group. Before long, Admiral Yamato had raised his hand in favor of restraint, and Defoe had seconded him. Kagebarai watched the proceedings with unreadable eyes, recognizing the one aspect of the command structure that even influential House leaders such as themselves could not yet affect.
"Motion approved", Golavinsky said at last. "And thank you for bringing this matter to our attention, Daravon."
- - -
In these very same minutes, a single star separated a similar meeting held beyond the Solar Barrier from its opposite. A semicircular table instead of rectangular, held in the core of an asteroid instead of the center of a steep lunar crater. Nearly all of its occupants were hologram instead of flesh.
Yet for all it's differences, this meeting was also caused by a Daravon.
The seven seats here were limited to councilors only, so Admiral Temeritus managed only to survey the meeting's focus leaning upon a wall, one of the few genuine asteroid walls in the core of Exodus. Contemplating exactly what would happen if he sat down 'inside' one of the static holograms was pushed aside for now- this time, someone else, someone much younger, was on the stand.
"Yes, my creations have SPS homing devices within them", the man in the turquoise lab coat was explaining to the assembled council. "Using my personal vessel, I tracked the Mobile Suit Peregrine to where its pilot had laid up for repairs, and killed him."
The elderly lady councilor known as Magda nodded, seemingly quite taken with this red-haired vagabond who had identified himself as Professor Nirel Verne, the listed creator of the Mobile Suits. Quick action by the local sensor officer had saved both him and his ride from being blasted into atoms by Exodus' huge defensive turrets. Looking back now, Temeritus was still unsure if that officer had made a mistake in letting the council hear him out.
"Which brings us to your motive", Jennala Olian said, clearly as suspicious of this odd turn of luck as the Admiral. "You were one of the greatest minds in Daravon. Why do you wish to join us, Professor?"
Yes, Temeritus thought, automatically leaning in closer, this should be most interesting.
Verne sounded as though he had recited the words before, but that was hardly a reason for doubt- he might very well have, knowing the suspicion Shyron would treat him with. "Because Jakob Daravon and his ilk have no respect for the cutting edge of science. He fired me, you know. After ten years of loyal service, of-of-of impeccable workmanship, the bastard chose to treat the incident as though it was my fault!"
Several of the councilors now leaned back in their seats. They hadn't been expecting such emotion as the reason for Verne to betray his own people, but now that they knew the reason, it was old hat. The blustery professor seemed to perfectly fit into the stereotype of the mad genius obsessed with his own brilliant work, his glossy blue eyes shaking as if someone had plucked him right from a sci-fi movie.
"So I left Earth", he continued, still keeping a healthy tone of anger with him. "My future lies wherever my creations are used and appreciated, and now you possess the entire set. I only wish to see the day when that Daravon regrets ever defying me, when that… primate becomes the victim of the very machines I built for him!"
Jennala could not help but look a bit amused by the man's livid ranting, but quickly schooled her attractive face into a businesslike, unreadable expression. "That will be satisfactory for now. We will, of course, undertake a fact-finding mission to ascertain if what you speak is the truth."
"But until then, professor", Pietro Nakura took over with his deep basso voice, "we welcome you into our defense fleet, in hopes that yours may be the first of many defections brought about by our quest for the truth. Your arrival is a watershed for us."
Verne's reaction was something like triumph. "Thank you very much, councilors. I guarantee you won't be disappointed."
Nakura smiled back with equal enthusiasm- perhaps he truly did believe Verne' story to be the real deal. Idiot. "The Admiral will show you to your civilian apartment on the top level."
"WHAT?!"
Verne and Temeritus stared at each other. Both had spoken the word with a start, the by-product of shock. Seeing Verne allowing him room, Temeritus spoke up first, but words wouldn't come out of his gaping throat- he could not yet articulate his surprise at being snubbed like this.
"If you would, Temeritus", Magda regarded him scornfully. "We have other matters to discuss that we prefer to keep private. Escort our new friend to his new home. Professor?"
"Oh, nothing", Verne replied, a far cry from his earlier indignation. "Just a bit thrown by the change of space. I had a summer villa back on Earth."
"Yes", she chuckled lightly. "But I'm afraid Exodus Colony was built for function, not comfort. If that will be all…?"
Temeritus could not stop himself from glaring hard at the young scientist, expressing his own anger at someone who did not yet deserve it. Greeter duty. That's what a warrior like myself has been relegated to now. Fucking Nakura. Save for Jennala, none of them trust me anymore…
But that could change. It could change indeed, if he was the one to catch what could be in reality a most-convincing spy red-handed. Walking out the door, he resolved to bite the bullet and simply watch Verne for the next few weeks.
Sorry friend, but you're my ticket back to this council's good graces…
- - -
Leaning up inside the large window space, Bryce surveyed the blank white quarters he'd been given with a satisfaction he found rather difficult to classify. Only after several hours of work had he been able to accurately isolate each of the hidden cameras and sensors in the room, and deduce where their blind spots were. His turquoise lab coat lay rumpled on the bed, and his pitifully few possessions, including Chameleon, had now been unpacked and activated.
Now, for the first time, I have my own place. I wonder if this is what my father pictured.
He and the little rainbow-skinned Haro were now surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people and machines and buildings who opposed the system of authority he had grown up under, the sole operative in an entire city of enemies, a freelance agent in every definition of the word, with no resources but his own. No surprise that he felt a little lonely.
He spread-eagled dreamily for a moment, finally mustering the effort to get to work. Even whispering the plan to Chameleon would likely be overheard, so he brought the tiny AI up on the bed to manually enter his instructions, including the password that safeguarded the Haro's true functions, into the interface on its back while he thought of them.
Step One: Reconnaissance. I have to learn where the MS units are kept, how to be stealthy, and how to fly them out of here on short notice. Thankfully, 'Professor Verne' would be expected to want to check his new surroundings, and you can explore the security areas once I'm done reprogramming it for my needs.
Step Two: Tools. I need to find the means to destroy the inert MS once I find them. Bomb components would be preferable. Probably need a gun as well, just in case. I'll have to wait for security to become more lax before I go asking around for that kind of stuff…
Step Three: Training. From what I've seen, Shyron's combat simulators aren't too bad. I'll need much more training with the Peregrine to have any chance at defeating the Alpha Gundam with it afterwards.
Stopping there, he looked up at the sheet metal ceiling. White… it would have to be white. I wonder… what if the Alpha shows up here and starts destroying things? More specifically, everything? Should I warn the Shyron council about it?
He laughed at his own absurdity. They are still my enemies. And they wouldn't believe me if I told them. Besides, what could they do? As powerful as my three are, that one…
Figuring out that Mobile Suit's weaknesses, as well as how to exploit them, would have to be strictly theory without the actual machine present. It would take a great deal of time, and that was something he had run out of for today. Feeling the familiar strain of tired joints, he whispered 'nap time' to Chameleon, watched the tiny Haro close its wings and switch off, then surrendered to the temporary abyss of sleep.
- - -
Target detected at 602x, 187y, 548z. Engage?
Where is he? Why has he not triggered the equation again?
The voices again. A mesmerizing gospel chorus. They never stopped, and without them he would feel doubly alone. The target was not the little one who had triggered the equation twice before, but a simple little colony lying on the borders of what the Alpha Gundam's pilot would later find out was Shyron's territory.
Laughter. Mad, heedless, jackal laughter. The voices spoke to him. They told him the little worms who lived on the Eurasia colony had already seen him, had already scrambled a few of their little ships to try and stop him.
Why would they try to stop him? Did they not understand that the gospel voices always told him how to avoid their attacks, how to kill every one of them without getting hit once?
Evidently not. "Drop your weapons and surrender your craft", a stern, serious voice broke over the comm.. unit, issuing from one of the small ships as far as he could tell. "You have ten seconds, then we will open fire!"
Laughter over the channel. The Valkyries did not visibly react to it, but scattered in a panic when the Alpha vaporized their squad leader in a single shot.
Maeyuwa Iji Sinji Te no KaniNemuri O Mawari
Iji Kanji You Yamete O Ga
Four missiles fired. Dodge, dodge, dodge. Three more shots, three more expanding clouds of debris. Laughter filling the headsets of the survivors, causing several to break off out of sheer terror, leaving him to look upon more interesting prey.
Civillian ships. Only a few had believed the Mobile Suit to be a threat to their guardian force, and only a few had gotten their private yachts out in time. The pale white Gundam callously flitted among the craft, blowing holes in one, slashing another into bits.
More speech over the channel. Equally serious, but this time pleading, begging teary-eyed for mercy. For a just a moment, he stopped short. "Tell me. Where is the other half? Why has he not contacted us?"
"What? I d-don't know what you're talking about. Please, for the love of God, stop destroying-"
Laughter. "Too bad for you then! Bye-bye!" Beam whip straight through, no more yacht.
Five Valkyries launched from War Cruiser at point 605x, 187y, 548z. Engage?
Boring. They are not the other half, the little one. But still better than these dullards. Engage.
The hypnotic chanting again, overlapping his banshee laughter so it did not terrify its own source. But only he could hear it. For the victims, for the psyche of all those on the Shyron War Cruiser, there was no refuge.
- - -