Resilient Ridge

Side Two:

Lagrangian Point 4, Earth Orbit

3 January 0079UC:

A contingent of Zeon infantry walked brazenly and unopposed through the colony's control center. They had strict orders to capture it before the Side 2 Colonization Administration was able to raise the alarm. Many technicians and administrative personnel gasped for air and fell to the floor around them. Dressed in protective suits, the Zeon infantry were immune to the poison gas being pumped into the control center. The soldiers reached the doors to the control center and forced them open. They had to secure the center in order to open the airlocks and allow reinforcements to board. The door was forced open and inside, the Zeon discovered one last dying technician at his post. With his final effort before death, the technician brought a fist down onto a large red button on his control panel.

The alarm claxons blared the most awful and recognizable warning. Every colonist aboard a space colony knew this sound from the earliest age. It signaled a breach in the hull. Something did not seem right to Ellie Leighton. She had just returned to the family home from a grocery outing with her infant son, Thomas. The tranquil street scene in front of the apartment building had come to a halt.

Those on the street looked around in bewilderment. A hull breach meant the air should be rushing from the pressurized habitation zone into the vacuum of space. The air was oddly still in the massive cylindrical interior of the O'Neill colony. Ellie still was not taking any chances. Her husband, Horatio, was an engineer and worked on maintaining stations throughout the colonies. He had warned about the effects of depressurization and the urgency to get into a spacesuit should that alarm ever be sounded. She heeded his warning and grabbed her own lifesuit from the family closet, as well as the infant pressurized rescue bag. It would have been more comforting if he were here with them, instead of on another engineering job.

To the comfort of those on the street, a convoy of military vehicles approached at a high rate of speed. The people believed them part of the station's militia. No verbal commands were given about the blaring claxons and no effects of depressurization were felt, so many on the street assumed it was a false alarm. Some did heed the warning and sought out the nearest air tight shelter or pressurized suit lockers, but the majority disregarded the call. The convoy of vehicles came closer.

These jeeps were not like the ones driven by the Federation militia. The symbols painted on the olive drab vehicles had the appearance of a barbed flower; the symbol of the seditious colonists from Side 3, who called themselves the Principality of Zeon. The convoy of several jeeps and large cargo transports came to a halt in the middle of the street.

The soldiers of the convoy began to disperse. They were all dressed in pressurized suits, with rifles at the ready. The soldiers around the cargo transports pulled the canvas roofs off the rear sections. In each of the cargo transports were large filtration devices with several large gas canisters attached by hoses. The order was given by the Zeon commanding officer by a wave of the arm.

Citizens had gathered around the perimeter, established by the soldiers, to gawk at the military vehicles and their cargo. Within seconds, citizens were falling to the ground, desperately gasping for breath. The devices in the cargo transports were dispersal units for the Zeon's deadly G3 poison gas. All around, the unshielded and curious spectators were convulsing, as the gas worked quickly. It only took a matter of seconds for the poison to take effect and death to shortly follow.

Those who had made it into the pressurized lifesuits were safe from the gas. A few had gathered to see the commotion caused by the vehicles. Now, they turned and tried to escape. The Zeon troops raised their weapons and opened fire. One by one, they brought down those who attempted to flee. Another order was given by the Zeon commander. He ordered his men to begin a building by building sweep for survivors.

Ellie had watched the entire scene unfold from the window of the Leighton apartment. She watched in horror while the innocent people were gassed by the soldiers. The gas had not affected her or Thomas, as they both heeded the warning and dressed in pressurized suits. In an act of desperation, she had tried to call her husband on the subspace phone, but the connection was offline. Before Ellie could react further to the atrocities, the door to the apartment was flung open. In the doorway was a Zeon soldier, obscured by the reflective glass of his pressure helmet. Ellie stared back at the man, with young Thomas cradled in her arms. The Zeon soldier raised his weapon at the mother and child.

000

Federation Controlled Zone:

Mogadishu, Earth

Late April 0079UC:

Lieutenant Leighton was finding sleep impossible. Since his capture of the enemy's Zaku, he had hoped to be assigned to piloting the mobile suit against the Zeon. Instead, he found himself detained, interrogated, accused of being an enemy agent, and held aboard a Federation surface naval ship, anchored off of the Port of Mogadishu.

The ship was an antiquated and long obsolete naval cruiser, pressed into service since the Federation needed everything and anything to fight the Zeon. Leighton guessed the ship had begun its service before the Universal Century. He was being held somewhere below deck in the interior of the steel beast. The room was hot and poorly ventilated; the faulty climate control system was beyond salvageable. There were bunks, stacked six high, in orderly rows and occupied by others guilty of some infraction against the Federation Uniform Code of Justice. Most were there for desertion.

The room, or rather the makeshift brig, was stifling from a number of elements; poor ventilation and the climate. The conditions were intolerable and Leighton stared at the ceiling only a few inches away from his spot in the top bunk. He was frustrated by his predicament. He wanted to be out on the front, fighting the Zeon, and making them pay for what they have done. Rather, he found himself held here and regarded as a traitor. No formal charges were ever filed against Leighton, at least not to his knowledge. He would have known if any were.

The confinement meant no access to any alcohol. Leighton turned to drinking heavily, as a manner of dealing with the deaths of his wife and son. Now, he found himself shuttering and in need of a drink. It did not help his situation since he had a photograph of Ellie and Thomas in his hand. It was the most recent, and last, photograph of them he had. He took the picture while the family was aboard a starliner returning to Side 2, from a November holiday trip. Leighton flashed to the trip. They had missed their initial flight from Earth to Side 2. After hours waiting at the airport, they finally caught a ride home.

The memory only angered Leighton. The rage burned inside of him and he was overcome by their loss. He recalled the agony of being trapped on Luna II, the day the Zeon attacked the colony his wife and child were aboard. For an entire week, he watched reports on the news channels of Zeon chemical attacks; unable to do anything because of the Federation imposed "no fly" ordinance.

His body shook almost violently, from a combination of withdraw and wrath. He leapt out of the top bunk and began to pace about the room. It was the middle of the night and his commotion upset the other detainees. Leighton felt like his skin was crawling and his body on fire. In an act of desperation, he tore off his uniform shirt and began to claw at his arms. He scratched his arms viciously and dropped to the floor in the corner of the brig. There, he rocked back and forth, as he sweated profusely. After several moments, Leighton blacked out and slumped to the floor.

000

"I was just handed an ultimatum by the Zeon Commander," General Frederickson, commander of the Federation 5th Army spoke. "It calls for the immediate return of the Zaku units our forces 'liberated' from the enemy. The Zeon Commander claims our usage of the Zakus directly violates the Antarctic Treaty. Claiming, since the mobile suits are an extension of the soldier operating them, it is no different than our own men wearing the uniform of the enemy. They think the Zaku a uniform…"

The room erupted in laughter. It was the command briefing room, a requisitioned conference room at the Mogadishu Airport Hilton Hotel. The corps and brigade commanders were all in attendance, along with their staff officers and adjutants. Captain Takagi felt out of place in this menagerie of the top brass, yet eager. He found himself invited, since it was his unit that captured the Zakus. Sergeant Tupolev was also in attendance because of his heroic act of piloting the Zaku through enemy lines. No word was mentioned about Leighton's involvement, and that was kept from General Frederickson.

"I sent the Zeon Commander the following reply…" the General began. "To hell with you!"

The commanders seated around the large conference table banged the surface with their fists in jubilation. They all cheered the defiant act and the General's crass retort.

"The order has been given sir," the Colonel from the Support Division interjected. "My men are repainting the Zakus in Federal livery. That way there will be no confusion amongst the enemy as to who is shooting at them!"

"Thank you Colonel, I am sure the Zeon will appreciate the clarification," replied the General. "Now, I believe it appropriate we recognize the heroes of the hour. Where are Captain Takagi and Sergeant Tupolev!? These are the brave men who risked everything to bring us these weapons!"

Takagi was caught off guard by the sudden attention. All of the eyes in the room were upon him, as his peers pressured him to stand and be recognized. Takagi did, indeed, stand and nod to the men in the room. He felt embarrassed by the situation. Surely, the General had been properly briefed about Takagi's involvement. How Takagi actually did not capture the Zaku.

Tupolev took a stand with Takagi. The whole time the Sergeant gave his Captain a look of disapproval. He suspected Takagi had something to do with Leighton's disappearance. Tupolev had been taken in for similar questioning when he and Leighton returned to the Federation lines with the Zakus. Most of the questions that were asked of Tupolev concerned Leighton. Tupolev was released because he was born on Earth and deemed loyal.

"The Lieutenant should be here," Tupolev muttered under his breath.

Takagi ignored him, though unsettled by the suspicious and intimidating Sergeant. Once the applause had ended, the room settled in for the General's briefing. An orderly dimmed the lights, while another activated a projector. On the large wall, to their front, was a map of Northern Africa. The map was color coded, indicating the lines of the Federation and Zeon forces. In West Africa, toward Algeria and Morocco, was a large red arrow pointing toward the sea.

"The Zeon African Front is staging a massive push on our forces in West Africa," the General spoke. "Their intention, intelligence has determined, is to drive west into Morocco, while their Western European Front pushes south through Spain. We believe they seek to link up and effectively cutoff the Mediterranean. But, advantageous to us, this requires a massive amount of the enemy's resources be diverted from our sector to support the advance. We are facing an enemy that has over extended its supplies and has stretched itself too thin. This is the opportunity we have been waiting for. No more talk of capitulation; we will launch a counter offensive here."

The commanders in the room listened to their General's words with increased anxiety. They were unsure if the Army could support the proposed counter attack. They were barely holding on, with their backs to the sea and supplies running shorter every day.

"I know our predicament," the General continues. "I can see it in your faces. We have our backs to the wall, we're on the ropes, and one more good hit and we're down for the count. The Zeon know this and we wait for that final blow. But, I pose this question to you, where is that final blow? We have over stayed our welcome here. We should have been driven into the sea, but yet here we are. They lack the strength for that final blow, so they are content to wait us out. That incursion against their supply pod showed us how vulnerable they are. They have grown sedentary. They believe us weak and defeated. We hit them now and they will not be able to stop us."

The General motioned to his orderly and the image displayed by the projector changed. A slide read, "Operation Resilient Ridge". It then switched to a diagram of Mogadishu with the Federation and Zeon positions clearly detailed. However, this map featured the Federation lines of advance and where units would surge toward the enemy positions. The proposal had Takagi's full attention. He had made similar proposals to his superiors about attacking the enemy now, when they least expected it. Perhaps, one of them heard the proposal and it made its way to the idealistic General.

"Captain Takagi!" the General shifted all of the attention in the room. "We will commit our new Zakus to this fight and I extend to you the honor of leading our vanguard!"

000

"I don't know the first thing about piloting a Zaku," said Takagi, as he downed a shot and signaled for another.

Major Park joined the Captain in the Hilton's bar, turned officer's lounge. Takagi was in an almost panic. He was honored, almost thrilled, to be selected as the General's vanguard, but terrified at the same time. The General wanted Takagi to pilot the Zaku, along with Tupolev, and lead the 5th Army in its counterattack. The briefing continued with detailed explanations of the attacks. A few officers tried to persuade the General to hold off in deploying the Zakus until they could be studied, but Frederickson would not listen. He wanted the Zakus at the forefront, leading the charge.

The information, Takagi suspected, did not reach Frederickson about the raid to capture the Zakus. It seemed the General believed, or was led to believe, Takagi commanded the assault and personally piloted one of the Zakus back to Federation lines.

"Don't worry," Major Park spoke, as she sat down next to Takagi. "Tupolev is training one of the more adept Guntank commanders to pilot the Zaku. The General will be informed of your involvement of the capture that will save face and still win you recognition, or something."

The bartender refilled Takagi's glass and poured one for the Major. The pair took a drink. Takagi felt a bit better about the situation.

"I hate to admit it," Takagi started. "Tupolev is familiar with the Zaku, but he is not the expert. You saw how badly he fumbled just getting it here. And we're trusting him to lead this offensive? It should be Leighton piloting the lead Zaku."

"You'd be wise to forget that name," Park snapped. "After the operation, the cruiser Anzio will set sail for Cape Town, with Lieutenant Leighton. There he will be interred for the remainder of the war, or executed for espionage. If they decide to go that route."

"You think him a spy?"

"I think him a monster. Better now, that he is out of the picture."

"Regardless, he is the best mobile suit pilot in the 5th Army."

"We'll train another."

Major Park shifted her focus from Takagi to her drink. The perspiration from the heat covered the glass. The air condition unit for the hotel had broken down, like the rest of the buildings at the airport. The Major made it clear she had heard all she would on the subject of Leighton. Takagi stood up. He had to escape the heat of the building and seek refuge in the breeze blown in from the sea.

"By your leave Major," Takagi requested and was answered by a nod from Park.

000

Tupolev sat in the pilot seat of the Zaku he captured. The mobile suit was freshly painted with a coat of Federation tan, and the military's star and crescent ensign applied. Already stressed to his limit, he took to digging his fingers into his shaved scalp. The Sergeant attempted to recall everything Leighton had taught him on how to operate the mobile suit. This seemed to come so naturally to Leighton and proved incredibly difficult to Tupolev. On top of the stress of trying to figure out the complex machine, Tupolev was ordered to train a commander of a RTX-65 Guntank. There was a diverse pool to pick from since all of the 5th Army's RTX-65s had been lost. The Guntank was the Federation's closest weapon to the Zeon's Zaku, and many in command believed its crews could be easily cross-trained on Zaku operation. This was in theory.

The inept Guntank commander who drew this assignment was Warrant Officer Fields. Fields found the Zaku's control completely foreign. The RTX-65s, he knew, operated on tank treads and handled like a tracked vehicle. The Zaku was a biped unit and far more complex. Corporal Bukowski leaned into Tupolev's cockpit in order to be of assistance.

"Hey Sarge," Bukowski started. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

"No fucking clue, Bukowski," Tupolev responded. "It'd be better if Lieutenant were here."

"I heard the MPs talking. Word is the Lieutenant is a Zeke spy!"

"You know the Lieutenant. Do you really believe he'd be working for the Zeke?"

Tupolev returned to his work, dismissing the Corporal's comments. He had wondered what had happened to Leighton. It had been nearly a week and there had been no word from the Lieutenant. Everyone seemed reluctant to discuss his absence and those that did told fantastic rumors about how he was a Zeon spy. Tupolev knew what was true about Leighton's past. The pair had done extravehicular structural work on the colony cylinders before the war. Tupolev had even met Ellie, on a few separate occasions. He knew, first hand, how hard their deaths affected Leighton.

Warrant Officer Fields was becoming frustrated. Tupolev saw the WO slam the control consol with his fists. There was no way they could lead the vanguard; they were still struggling with basic movements. Tupolev lamented the fact the intelligence officers seized Leighton's MIL-book computer. Leighton put together a "cheat sheet" program for Zaku operation and stored it on that computer. It would have been beneficial to Tupolev. He had protested about piloting the Zaku; stating he was not experienced enough. He took his protest to Takagi, then to Park, and even sought, in vain, an audience with General Frederickson. In two days, the attack was scheduled. Tupolev would be at the vanguard whether he was ready or not.

000

Leighton found himself waking up in a bed. This bed was far more comfortable and the room more pleasant than the dungeon-like brig he had been for the past few days. It only took a moment or two for Leighton to realize he was still on board the ship, but in the medical bay. He went to get up, but found his left wrist handcuffed to the side railing of the hospital bed.

"Glad to see you're awake," an overworked nurse dispassionately remarked.

"How the fuck did I get here?" Leighton asked, as tried to sit up and recall the last thing he remembered.

"Alcohol withdraw?" the nurse mentioned while she jotted some unrelated notes on a clipboard. "My deadbeat ex-husband went through the same fits. Hurts, don't it? Not having a fix. Surprised how you can get any out here. War is hell, who am I to judge."

"Got any paint lying around? Guess I'll be huffing that from now on," Leighton cynically joked. "How long have I been here?"

"As long as it took for the sedatives to wear off, hell I don't know, I just work here."

The banter was interrupted by a shrill bell and a call for general quarters. Immediately, the nurse and other medical personnel raced to the portholes and closed the blast shutters. The bright medical bay became darkened and full of commotion. In the exterior hallway, Leighton could hear sailors rushing to their battle stations at a full sprint.

The ship started to vibrate, as a mechanical roar surged through the hull. Leighton could make out the sound of a missile being launched from one of the cruiser's firing tubes. The missile blasted off with tremendous force. It could not be expected to do any precision damage, Leighton deduced. The amount of Minovsky Particles both sides dispersed in the city made any form of guidance lock impossible. They were too far to direct the missile by wire, as the short range rocket teams had done. This missile would be fired blindly toward the Zeon lines, preprogrammed to crash toward the ground after a determined duration and distance.

"What the hell is going on out there!?" Leighton demanded.

"Looks like Resilient Ridge is underway," the nurse responded.

000

Sergeant Tupolev was in a position he did not want to be. He was in the lead Zaku, with WO Field's mobile suit and a brigade of armored vehicles stretched behind on the Varsity road. It seemed they were ready to repeat the same operation only barely accomplished a week ago. This time, the odds were stacked against Tupolev and the other Federation soldiers. The forward observers watched for several days, as Zeon troops fortified their positions. The Zeon were not going to be overwhelmed so easily again.

Overhead, the missiles from the off shore naval vessels streaked across the sky. They were fired wildly because of targeting interference. The Federation soldiers below hoped the missiles would land somewhere critical. The missile barrage was joined by a large scale air assault. The Air Force was throwing their last reserves into this fight. The ground attack planes roared low above the buildings, as they fired their payloads into the Zeon positions.

The scene ahead looked, to Tupolev, like the ending of the world. The buildings to his front exploded in brilliant balls of fire, as all manner of ordinances found a target. The Federation aircraft were proving to be more difficult opponents. At the beginning of the Battle for Mogadishu, the Zeon were able to easily lock on and shoot down the enemy planes with guided surface to air missiles. The increased dispersal of Minovsky Particles now made that impossible.

Zeon troops with turrets of Vulcan cannons attempted to manually target the aircraft. The sky was quickly filled with deadly trails of lead fired at six thousand rounds per minute. With enough emplacements, the Zeon were able to effect enough aerial obstructions to force the Federation pilots to increase altitude. When the slower Federation ground attack planes climbed higher, they were met immediately by squadrons of Zeon Dopp fighters. The aerial carnage intensified, as the Dopp fighters preyed upon the ground attack planes, only to be engaged by the Federation's own FF-3 Saberfish fighters.

The afternoon sky of Mogadishu lit up with a deadly aerial dance. Planes were torn apart by cannon fire; their debris falling precariously back toward earth. The burning hulks of aircraft plunged into the surrounding buildings. Some exploded, while others simply burned. A slow moving Federation AF-01Mongoose would be blasted in half by the superior firepower of a Zeon Dopp, which, in turn, would be destroyed by a faster and more atmospheric adept Federation FF-3.

The air strikes and missile barrages continued for two hours. The Sergeant checked his watch. The digits instantly changed to read 08:00, the predetermined hour of the attack. At that moment, the order was given for every Federation unit along the front line to move. Tupolev powered up his Zaku and began the advance. The second Zaku, with the tanks and infantry, followed quickly behind.

Tupolev charged up the Varsity road. The lumbering steps of the Zaku shook the ground, as the mechanical behemoth sprinted at a high rate of speed. After a few city blocks, Tupolev was into Zeon territory. Directly ahead was an entrenched Zeon 88mm gun emplacement, in the middle of the intersection. The Sergeant frantically tried to manually target the enemy. He pulled the trigger on his throttle, which sent the command for the Zaku to do the same with its 120mm machine gun.

The Zaku's weapon fired wildly. The bullets following the up and down motion the Zaku made, as it leaned forward and back while sprinting. The stability control! Tupolev searched frantically for it. It would allow servos on the Zaku to maintain a stabilized weapon fix despite the pitching caused by movement. He searched in vain, but could not find it. The only option was to stop.

Tupolev brought the Zaku to a halt. Now, he was able to align his weapon and target the emplaced Zeon gun. However, this made Tupolev a stationary target. Every Zeon with a handheld rocket launcher rushed to a window on a building that overlooked the street and the Federation Zaku. White trails of smoke were followed by blasts that impacted Tupolev's Zaku. The launchers were only rocket propelled grenades, their warheads not enough to seriously damage the Zaku. They did succeed in distracting Tupolev.

The Sergeant shifted his focus toward the source of the blasts. Tupolev fired wildly into the buildings. The Zeon were so numerous and dispersed throughout the buildings it was impossible to get a solid fix. The disruption did give the Zeon gun crew enough time to line up a shot at the stationary Zaku. The 88mm gun fired and the round hit its target. The screen in Tupolev's cockpit went dark. The shell tore through the optical unit in the Zaku's head.

Now he was in trouble. There was an emergency backup camera on the breastplate for just this situation, but Tupolev forgot how to engage it. The Sergeant began to panic. He engaged the drive unit on the Zaku and took off in a sprint. Running blind, Tupolev's Zaku collided with the building to its immediate right. The mobile suit slumped forward, as it fell to the ground with the collapsing building. The power began to short and the control panels flickered. Tupolev's Zaku was effectively, out of action.

Fields had followed closely behind Tupolev. After Tupolev's Zaku collided with the building, Fields set up to target the gun emplacement. Following what commands he remembered, Fields brought his Zaku to a kneeling position. The Zeon troops looked on in bewilderment at the odd actions preformed by one of their Zakus painted in Federation livery. Fields raised his Zaku's 120mm machine gun. The gun crew of the 88mm cannon worked feverishly to load another round. Ready to fire and with the gun emplacement sighted, Fields pulled the trigger on his throttle. Nothing happened. Frustrated, the Warrant Officer tried to determine the reason behind the weapon's malfunction. No warning indicating a jam was displayed, and the weapon was loaded properly.

After a few tense moments of searching, Fields determined the problem. The safety on the weapon was engaged. It would not fire until disengaged. Fields now shifted his search for the disengage switch. He did not recall ever going over this with Tupolev. Fields was thoroughly distracted and oblivious to what was going on outside.

The crew of the Zeon 88mm decided to abandon their position at the impending obliteration by the Zaku. Unbeknownst to them was Fields' weapons safety issue. Surging past the kneeling limbs of the Zaku were the armored tanks and infantry of the brigade. They were ordered to press forward despite the technical difficulties of the mobile suits. The tanks turned, as they navigated around the Zaku. The infantry sprinted past with apprehension. They were unnerved by the easy loss of the two and only mobile suits their side possessed.

Tupolev was face down in the cockpit of Zaku. His restraint belt kept him in his seat. The Sergeant hit the hatch release, but nothing. The door was blocked by debris and would not open. A single dim emergency light flickered and provided a modest illumination. Tupolev had to figure a way out. The Zaku was not responding and he was not sure how to execute a full power reboot, more uncertain if that would even work.

The Sergeant unclipped the belt buckle and controlled his downward fall onto the control panel. He turned himself onto his back and reached for the release handle behind the pilot seat. After an uncomfortable search, he found the handle and pulled it toward him. The seat became unlatched and swung forward on a hinge. This exposed a rear escape hatch that opened onto the Zaku's back. Tupolev turned the grip on the hatch and it flung open. With his might, Tupolev pulled himself through the hatch and stood on the back of his now ruined Zaku.

000

Captain Takagi advanced with the remnant of the 2nd Battalion up the Varsity Road. Major Park made sure Takagi retained command after it was decided he would not actually pilot one of the Zakus. For the first time, in what seemed an eternity, Takagi and the men under his command were not in the first wave. They were part of the reserves, brought up to continue the attack, as the captured territory was secured. Takagi marched on foot with his men. He wanted to be with them in this fight, and not sheltered in a hover truck.

The Battalion marched into the intersection where the great demonstration of the captured Zakus had faltered. Fields had managed to accidently power down his unit. The Zaku remained in a crouched position with its weapon trained. The joints had all locked up and Fields could not get it to respond. Next to that, in the crushed building, lay Tupolev's ruined Zaku.

The Sergeant stood on the back of the mobile suit and waved to Takagi the moment he recognized the Captain. Takagi stopped while his men continued forward. Tupolev climbed down from his Zaku and traversed the debris. He looked enraged.

"This is fucking disaster!" Tupolev exclaimed, clearly speaking with emotion. "I told them I did not know what I was doing, but did they listen? No! Now, we are down only Zakus we had!"

"Is there any way yours can get started?" Takagi asked, hopefully. "What about Fields'? Is there anything you can do?"

"Mine is totaled, done, gone, dead. Fuckhead Fields has managed to get himself locked out and now his unit is shutdown."

There was a tense pause between the two. The frustration that had built up inside of Tupolev was starting to lash out. He was on the verge of insubordination. Takagi knew he had better get control of the situation. However, Tupolev was proving difficult.

"Lieutenant Leighton should be here!" Tupolev snapped. "You know where they've taken him, but yet you say nothing."

There was a misconception in Tupolev's words, but he did not know it. Takagi was equally oblivious to Leighton's whereabouts, as the Sergeant. The one thing in this situation that could not be tolerated was Tupolev's insubordinate behavior.

"Sergeant Tupolev!" Takagi shouted in a commanding voice that snapped Tupolev to attention. "It is not your duty to speculate on matters outside of our control. You were put in charge of this operation and any factors up to this point are irrelevant. Now answer my fucking question! Can these Zakus be made operational?"

"No sir," Tupolev responded, dutifully, but with contempt.

"Why not, Sergeant?"

"Because I lack the knowledge, sir. Now, if you will excuse me?"

Takagi nodded in affirmation and Tupolev stormed off toward Fields' Zaku.

000

The fighting raged across the City of Mogadishu all throughout the morning. The Federation forces surged forward from their lines and advanced along the city streets. This attack was proving not to be the easy victory. Only a few days ago, the Federation forces launched a successful raid that overwhelmed the Zeon and allowed them to destroy an enemy resupply capsule. The lynchpin of Operation Resilient Ridge was to capitalize on the former success against an over confident enemy.

The Zeon were ready this time. They were not going to repeat the same mistake twice. In the days following the raid, the Zeon fortified their positions. The infantry constructed roadblocks that would force advancing enemy armor off of the main roads and into smaller side streets designated as kill zones. The Zeon were able to accomplish this feat, despite the logistical resupply issues and the diversion of their forces to other fronts. With a diminished force, the Zeon would have to rely on their resourcefulness and guile in order to withstand a Federation attack.

Throughout the city, columns of Federation tanks and armored vehicles advanced up the main avenues into the Zeon lines. The Zeon infantry would fire from elevated positions in the buildings that lined either side of the street. This hampered the swift advance the Federation had hoped to achieve. The Federation commanders had anticipated the Zeon would abandon their positions, not expecting a massed attack. They were fast being proved wrong.

There were roadblocks constructed by the Zeon soldiers to block Federation armor. Though crude obstacles welded together from bits of scrap metal, they were formidable enough to block passage of the tanks. Without armored support, the infantry would be cut to pieces.

As a result of a roadblock, a Federation tank commander would have to seek an alternate route. Under heavy fire already and with a roadblock ahead, the commander would order is tank to turn down the nearest alley or side street. The commander would then have to contact the combat controllers at the Mogadishu airport. The combat controllers were the ones responsible for navigating the Federation forces toward their objectives. In a drawn out and time consuming process, the tank commander would be patched through to a combat controller. He would have to give his location, to his best approximation, the situation, and list any route obstructions, and his best course of movement.

The combat controller would have to process the information and determine the best possible route. This was all occurring while the Zeon were laying down heavy fire. The Federation had numerous UAVs in the skies above Mogadishu. The UAVs monitored the progress of the Federation advances and provided a visual overview on the streets below. The dispersal of the Minovsky Particles was creating a lot of issues for the combat controllers.

The Minovsky Particles interrupted the signal transmitted from the UAVs. The interference caused a distorted picture for the combat controllers. To compensate, technicians had to convert the UAVs from transmitting real time feeds, to static images. The pictures relayed were sent at intervals of several minutes and on a high waveband. This allowed for clearer images, but they had lost their live feed. The technicians, who operated the UAVs and worked on their transmit issues, were in a different operations center on the other side of the airport from where the combat controllers were located. Through a miscommunication, the technicians failed to mention the fact there was a signal delay from the UAVs. The combat controllers believed the images were current and updated.

Combat controllers would signal back to the tank commanders with the best possible detours. The tank commanders would follow the directions only to find themselves ambushed by well entrenched Zeon forces or encountered by a dead end road. On several occasions, tank commanders would be waiting on orders from the combat controllers on when to turn down a street. With the delay in signal, a controller would issue the command and the tank column turn. The tank commanders would find they had missed the turned, as the correct street was several blocks behind them. In an exercise that served to only cause delay, the column would have to turn around and find the correct street.

Frustration overtook the airways. The tank commanders and combat controllers exchanged heated remarks and insults. It served to only tie up communications and prevent urgent signals from being heard. The combat controllers would be accused of not paying attention and giving poor directions, while they accused the tank commanders of not following commands closely and blatantly ignoring instructions. The confusion about the signal delay had yet to be realized. Many tank commanders took to stopping their vehicles in areas safe from fire in order to examine street maps to determine their next course. The situation was causing the advance to become bogged down.

000

Takagi found himself crouched behind a Federation Type 61 Tank with the vehicle's commander, Lt. Paulson. The pair had a street map of Mogadishu. It was a tourist map of the city, printed by a tour bus company that had all of the city's major landmarks enlarged in caricature. The map had been liberated from the ruined tourist kiosk across the street from their position, by Takagi. The proper street map of Mogadishu was with the tank battalion's commander, Major Saunders, but he and his lead tank were missing.

"This can't be right," Takagi said quizzically. "We should be east of the stadium! But yet I see it ahead to our right."

The demolished remnant of the stadium could be seen through a concaved roof of a building that had been blown apart. The stadium appeared to their right. This meant they were off course and out of position, as their line of advance should have been on the east flank of the stadium. They were still under enemy fire at their location. Bullets could be heard deflecting off the armored plating of the Type 61. The tank's turret swung around in order to bring both barrels against the Zeon point of fire. Bukowski sheltered against the right rear side of the tank. With his assault rifle trained on the windows of the surrounding buildings, he fired. He could not see the enemy, he just fired in hopes it would force them to seek cover.

"There's so much yelling on the radio," Paulson spoke. "I can't get anyone at combat control to respond. All of the channels seemed to be taken up by everyone yelling at everyone else."

The advance was losing momentum. It was already 13:00 and Takagi had not even reached the stadium. By this hour, they were scheduled to be pushing through the northern outskirts of the city. He was not sure how they reached their current position. They had followed the commands sent by the combat controllers, but they had run into roadblock after roadblock. Now, they were unable to reach the combat controllers on the radio and decided to stop, in order to reformulate their strategy. Takagi figured he had seventy men in what was left of his Battalion. Paulson had assumed overall command of the four Type 61 Tanks and the one Type 74 Hover Truck in the column.

"I say we make for the stadium," said Takagi. "It was one of the objectives designated for capture. It would be a good rally point location to link up with our forces. We have a bearing on it."

"But look ahead," Paulson motioned, as he spoke. "Those tanks traps won't let us through, we can't continue on this street."

"Then we turn around!"

A distressed vehicle crewman moved from tank to tank, using the vehicles for cover. The man was distinguished by his lack of combat equipment, the tan Federation crewman jumpsuit, and the rounded tank crew helmet. The crewman had a pistol in hand, more out of paranoia than practical defense. Paulson turned to acknowledge the crewman.

"Sir," the crewman spoke, as he crouched with the officers. "Hover truck's taken an RPG to the starboard lift fan. And some metal debris has bent the blades on the port rear fan."

"How bad?" Paulson asked.

The crewman could only somberly shake his head. There was no need to ask for clarification. Paulson already knew the seriousness of the issue. At that moment, a rocket propelled grenade whizzed past and detonated a few meters to the left of the tank. The explosion blasted apart the front section of a ruined café and sent two of Takagi's men flying through the air. A medic raced forward to aid the wounded, but there was little he could do. One of the soldiers was killed instantly. The other lay on his back and clenched at the intestines that protruded from his gut. The tanks wheeled their turrets around and fired at the building where the rocket had originated.

"Hover truck is down," Paulson said to Takagi.

"What does that mean?" Takagi demanded.

"It means the hover truck isn't going anywhere and neither are we. The road is too narrow; we won't be able to get around it."

"We can't go forward, we stay here and we'll be torn apart, and retreat is blocked! Do you have any suggestions?"

"I do. We make a road."

"We do what!?"

"Just follow the lead vehicle."

Paulson turned to the tank behind them, the second in the line. He held a fist in the air and crossed his other below it. This was the hand signal for the driver to start up the engine and prepare to move. Dodging the small arms fire, Paulson climbed onto the back of his tank and dashed for the turret hatch. He dropped down through the opening and closed the armored cover. After a few moments, the jet turbine that drove the Type 61 roared to life. Takagi moved to the cover of the second tank, as Paulson's tank wheeled to the right.

The driver pushed the throttle and the tank sped forward. There was a small damaged one story building directly in the path of the rushing tank. Without any regard, Paulson's tank crashed through it in a brazen move. The small building, already blasted to pieces from the battle, collapsed onto the armored beast. The tank did not stop there, rather it kept going. Following Paulson's strategy, Takagi ordered his men to follow. They charged through the ruins of small the building. The other tanks followed. The hover truck was abandoned and its crew joined the infantry.

The lead tank found itself on a wide open avenue. The avenue traveled east and the stadium was visible several blocks ahead. They were not met with any resistance and the infantry soon caught up with Paulson's tank. The reckless gamble had paid off. The convoy headed toward the stadium.

000

The command center in the airport Hilton was a scene of pandemonium. The room was deafened by the shouts of the commanders to their subordinates over the phones. They would then turn to the combat controllers and scream at them for leading their vehicles off course. The situation was rapidly deteriorating for the Federation. Units all over the city were pinned down in Zeon kill zones, or lost because of a confusing series of detours. The issue with the UAV delays had been figured out, but only after several hours. The combat controllers adjusted accordingly for these factors. A new problem plagued the slow moving UAVs. The Zeon soldiers started shooting them down. With fewer UAVs in the sky, it was taking longer to get data for the combat controllers.

The casualties were starting to mount for the Federation. An unending line of ambulances made its way back to the terminal from the front. The doctors and medics were completely overwhelmed by the surge of wounded. Those who were in the worst shape were stabilized and immediately loaded onto Medea transport planes, to be flown to the Federation hospital in Mombasa. This barely helped to alleviate the workload on the doctors.

General Frederickson was oddly calm, as the situation fell apart around him. He seemed distracted. In his hand was a report on the Zakus. So much of his plans depended on the Zakus that had been captured. They proved to be complete failures.

"Tell me Captain," Frederickson addressed an adjutant. "What of our Zakus?"

"Sir!" the Captain replied. "One Zaku severely damaged and feared lost. The other is inoperable."

"And what of the pilots?"

"Warrant Officer Fields was seriously wounded in the head by a sniper round. He is in an ambulance on its way to the field hospital now. They believe it is mortal. Sergeant Tupolev was last reported still working on the inoperable Zaku."

The General clasped his hands together behind his back and slowly began to pace about. The hotel ballroom, where the command center was established, had an elevated stage. It was on that stage where the General had his station established and his orderlies situated. The ballroom had every table and surface covered with computers and other monitoring equipment. Manning them were the combat controllers and the staffs of the 5th Army's divisions and brigades.

"Could you get me Sergeant Tupolev on the radio?" the General turned and asked his orderly.

The orderly nodded and picked up a receiver on the radio unit. He punched a few digits into the keypad. Once entered, the orderly signaled to the operator who he was, who he spoke for, and who he wished to communicate with.

The Zakus were trailed by a team of mechanics in a hover truck. In the event they needed to assist in repairs. Though, the technology was far beyond anything the mechanics were accustomed. There was little they could do. In addition, a radio operator was attached to the hover truck of mechanics. Since the Zakus were of particular interest to the General, the radio operator was there with a dedicated channel. It was in place so the General could receive immediate reports on the Zakus. Now, the General took the receiver from his orderly.

000

Tupolev sat in the cockpit of Fields' Zaku. The mobile suit was still locked in the kneeling position from earlier. A team of mechanics had every service panel pulled open, as they searched for the cause of the power outage. Two of the mechanics had opened a rear access hatch and gawked in wonder at the power core. It was like nothing they had ever seen before. No engine they had ever worked on even resembled the core.

To their limited expertise, the core appeared to be putting out power. A diagnostic screen attached to the core indicated it was operating at full capacity. Now, they had to figure out why the power was not reaching the other onboard systems. That was the problem that vexed the mechanics.

"Call for you Tupolev," the operator in the hover truck radioed. "General wants to speak with you."

"Fine," Tupolev responded. "Patch him through to my unit."

The operator switched a few buttons to change the transmission over to Tupolev. The Sergeant carried a small personal radio that linked to the larger transmitter in the hover truck. The personal radio was how the pilot could communicate with other Federation units and avoid using the onboard Zeon radio.

"This is Tupolev," the Sergeant spoke.

"Sergeant," the General began, coolly. "This is General Frederickson. What is going on out there? Why aren't you able to move?"

"Damn thing…I mean, sir, the unit is in a sort of power down mode. I believe it was accidently powered down by Fields."

"So what can be done? From what I am told, you are the expert on these machines. Why aren't you able to get it working?"

"I am not the expert sir. That would be Lieutenant Leighton. He was the one who studied the weapon, he was the one who stole it, and he is the only one who could pilot it!"

Tupolev uttered that bit out of frustration. It took an instant to recognize that had been a mistake. He was warned to forget that name. Not fully thinking his actions through, Tupolev switched his radio off.

000

The General slammed the receiver onto the desk. He was known for his cool and level head. This outburst was uncustomary and rare. Those who had seen the temper manifest knew, very well, that it was not good. The General clenched his fists and turned to his orderly. The orderly appeared terrified.

"Captain," the General spoke firmly, the rage barely held back. "Who is this Lieutenant Leighton?"

"I don't know, sir," the orderly responded.

"Well then, I want you to find out who that is. I want you to find out where they are. And I want this Lieutenant Leighton brought to that Zaku. Is that understood, Captain?"

The Captain nodded in affirmation and set to work. He raced from the stage to find a quartermaster, or a clerk from the personnel unit who might locate a service record. Though the General had addressed only the Captain, the General's other orderlies seated at the terminals knew they were also to assist in the search. They began calling commanders to try and determine the Lieutenant's identity.

000

Leighton balanced himself against the railing on the port side of the cruiser. He stared over the water toward the ferocious battle that raged in the city. Explosions lit up the afternoon sky. The trails of plummeting aircraft crossed with the unguided missiles fired blindly by both sides. The cool breeze from the sea was comforting in this heat, and it was a nice rest bit from the brig. Still considered a patient, Leighton was evicted from his hospital bed to make room for the more seriously wounded. He and the other fit patients were allowed to convalesce on the forward deck. The cruiser switched from a role of fire support, to one as a hospital ship. The wounded from the airport were ferried to the medical facilities on the cruiser and the other naval vessels anchored off shore.

There was a continuous procession of small boats that approached the larger ships. All were laden with a cargo of wounded men and women. Leighton spotted a VTOL dropship making its way toward the flotilla. He initially paid it no attention, but it seemed on a course with his ship. The VTOL circled around and then set down on the landing pad. Leighton returned to staring at the city.

"That's him," a nurse said, as she pointed at Leighton.

A contingent of three MPs and a Feet Officer from the Office of Strategic Intelligence approached. They were directed by the nurse. Leighton became annoyed. He rolled his eyes and turned to meet them.

"Lieutenant Horatio Leighton?" the OSI Officer spoke in a tone devoid of emotion.

"Who wants to know?" Leighton responded, believing he was about to be taken to another facility.

"Are you Lieutenant Leighton or not?"

"Did I win the sweeps? Lucky me."

Leighton figured this was his last taste of freedom and fresh air. He wanted to enjoy it and cause as much of an inconvenience to his captors as possible. Therefore, he resolved to be difficult.

"You are to accompany us," the Officer spoke again.

"But I am enjoying the sun?" Leighton joked.

"NOW!" the Officer barked.

The MPs took that as their sign. They moved over to Leighton and each of the MPs grabbed him by an arm. He shook them off.

"Alright, you win" he said in compliance.

The contingent, with Leighton amongst their number, proceeded toward the aft landing pad and the VTOL. The pilots of the dropship kept the engines humming, ready. When all were on board, the pilot throttled up and the VTOL took off. They flew at a high speed back toward the airport. Leighton was still convinced he was going to be transferred to another, more secure facility. He had seen several Medea transports take off from the airport and assumed some intelligence officer found him a seat aboard one. The only thing left to do was ponder his fate.

"So where am I bound for?" Leighton tried to get an answer. "Cape Town internment camp or the Luna II penal facility?

"You're not getting out of this fight, Leighton," the Officer spoke.

Leighton was confused by what that could mean. As the Lieutenant pondered, the OSI Officer opened a satchel and passed a folder into Leighton's hands. Inside the folder was a hastily printed street map of the avenues that approached the city stadium from the south. It was marked with red arrows from the Federation zones, indicating troop advancements. At one intersection there was a large red circle with the hand written word "Zaku". The word had been underlined. He began to think that maybe this incarceration had been postponed.

"The Zaku you captured is in this intersection," the Officer spoke and pointed on the map. "Sergeant Tupolev is there with it. He tells us the unit has powered down and will not start back up."

"And the other one?" Leighton inquired. "I brought you two!"

"Destroyed."

The dropship banked wide to circumnavigate the air traffic above the runway. This allowed the VTOL to land in a cleared area near the hangars, designated for craft of this type, so as not to interfere with the aircraft on approach. The scene at the airport had reverted to its normal pandemonium. When a Medea transport landed and taxied to the terminal, it was immediately swamped by a tide of desperate Federal soldiers who were eager to escape the hopeless struggle for the city.

A contingent of MPs, heavily armed with assault rifles and a light machine gun, formed a perimeter around the landing pad for the VTOL that carried Leighton. They were in place to hold back any soldiers who attempted to climb aboard. Also, Leighton needed safe escort to a vehicle in order to get him to the stricken Zaku.

The Lieutenant was immediately rushed off of the dropship when it touched down. The OSI Officer and MPs formed a protective formation around Leighton. Only a few seconds had transpired, enough for the passengers to exit, before the VTOL took off again and was airborne. Not a word was spoken, as the formation walked across the tarmac, through a service exit, and into a vehicle lot. There, a hover truck sat idling, waiting for Leighton. Three of the MPs, the OSI Officer, and Leighton all climbed aboard. The truck's fans increased power and the vehicle sped off for the front.

000

Captain Takagi brought the column to a halt. He, Sergeant Khan, of his Golf Company, and two privates crept forward to survey what lay ahead. They were on the western edge of the stadium. The small team concealed themselves in the ruined building. Takagi took out his binoculars and was horrified.

The city stadium sat in the middle of a large open park. The Zeon had previously utilized the clearing as a landing zone for supply dropships. Its strategic importance made it a key objective for the Federation advance. When captured, Federation dropships could fly in supplies and reinforcements to the forward operating units. The Zeon looked to be in control of the field.

The burning hulks of a dozen Type 61 tanks pumped black plumes of smoke into the air. A column of Zeon Magella tanks drove in a formation headed south. Zeon infantry were scattered across the field picking through the bodies of Federation soldiers; collecting their weapons or pilfering souvenirs. In the center of the field, next to the collapsed edge of the stadium, were three Zakus. These Zakus were painted in the Zeon livery; these were the dreaded Zeon mobile suits.

Takagi slowly lowered the binoculars. Words were not needed to express the plight of the Army. The evening sun began to set to their backs. The stadium was only a few short blocks from where the Federation lines started. It should be under their control, but it was not. The 5th Army, by this time of day, expected to have driven deep into the Zeon lines. Now, their own position was untenable; the attack had failed.

The observation team slipped away from their post and back toward their men. The column had concealed itself as best as it could. The tanks were hidden from view; parked between the buildings. The men had all sought cover in the ruins. Takagi approached Paulson and the company commanders of his Battalion. They all eagerly awaited the news.

"So, what's the word?" Paulson started. "They preparing a barbeque for us or what?"

"The Zeon control the field," Takagi said, somberly. "They've brought up armor and mobile suit support. It looks like our guys were cut to shreds."

The commanders were all speechless. They had hoped to link up with friendly forces after a bloody and frustrating fight through the labyrinth of roadblocks and Zeon ambushes. The men were exhausted and just wanted rest. The news was crushing.

"Now what Captain?" Paulson asked the question on everyone's mind.

Takagi had everyone looking to him for a decision. This was the make or break moment for the Captain, who had only been an academy cadet at the beginning of the month. Now, the lives of the men under his command depended on the decision he made next. The only option was to turn around and try to navigate the maelstrom back to the front line.

"We head south," Takagi said. "We keep to the cover of buildings moving quickly."

"And what of the armor?" Paulson demanded.

"We leave it. We will move faster without having to detour for every roadblock we encounter."

There was uproar among the commanders. Captain Soliani was there, commander of Jolliet Company. He was bitter that the Battalion command had not passed to him; he worked to make things difficult for Takagi.

"The Zekes will gun us down without the support of the tanks," Soliani proclaimed.

"I can't just leave my tanks here," interrupted Paulson.

"What about surrender?" a Lieutenant added. "We have done more than has been expected of us. There is honor in surrender."

"That is sedition!" Sergeant Khan shouted.

The order had quickly deteriorated. The commanders argued amongst themselves. They were less concerned about taking orders from the young, recently commissioned cadet and more focused on their own preservation. They seemed to lack confidence in Takagi's ability to command.

"ENOUGH!" Takagi shouted, attracting everyone's attention. "The Battalion will form up and prepare to move out. We will abandon armor in order to make our advance more rapid. And, if there is any more talk of surrender, I will have the one responsible shot! Do we have an understanding?"

A silence overtook the group of officers. They were stunned, and a bit frightened, by the outburst. Takagi demonstrated that he was to be taken seriously and respected. The officers each turned and nodded to Captain Takagi. It was a showing that he was in command and demanded their loyalty.

The orders were passed along to the men to prepare to move. Takagi selected four men to advance ahead of the main column in order to scout the best avenue to the Federation lines. The Captain knew the Federation front lines, at least only a few hours ago, were several blocks to the south of their current location.

The column began their advance down a side street. It was a narrow street, with buildings towering on either side. It would have been impossible to get the tanks down this road. The only obstruction the Federal soldiers encountered was the litter. It was heaped in piles against the buildings, but proved not to be a significant hindrance.

They had traversed a few city blocks unopposed. The spirits were high and they were confident they could make it. Ahead, they spotted one of the forward scouts. The scout was running at full speed back toward them. Takagi halted the column. Several shots rang out and the scout fell forward onto the street. Her body lay motionless.

Zeon soldiers were spotted in the road ahead. They skulked along the sides of the buildings; firing at the Federation column. Takagi ordered his men to return fire. The Federation soldiers in the front dropped to ground and lay prone; aiming and firing at the enemy. Others spread out to find cover behind dumpsters, the piles of litter, or into the buildings themselves. A few of the Federals fell, killed or wounded, where they stood. Their bodies were quickly dragged from the street and into the nearest building.

Takagi aimed his M72A1and fired off several rounds. He noticed an onrushing Zeon soldier stumble to the ground; confident he brought down the enemy. The men of Takagi's column kept up an intense fire on the Zeon. They were in a desperate fight to escape and for their lives. The held nothing back; men brazenly rushed forward to lob grenades at their Zeon foe. Others would fire and advance toward the Zeon, determined to drive them back. It was a resolve rarely shown by Federation soldiers thus far in the War. It was an act of determination that needed to be repeated if the Earth Federation ever hoped to win.

The Federation soldiers took to the offensive, Takagi, at their helm, led them on. Their boldness overwhelmed the Zeon force that opposed them. The spacenoid infantry began to fall back. A line of Zeon decided to hold their ground and stood defiant. The charging Federation troops crashed upon them like a destructive storm surge.

Both sides took to hand to hand combat. The exhausted, desperate, and half crazed Federation soldiers fought like men possessed by the devil. They clawed, wrestled, and took to physically beating their foes with bare hands. Takagi found himself running full speed at a line of Zeon, the next; he was throttling life out of an enemy private. The man's face became stiff and lifeless, as the struggling ceased. Takagi released the enemy from his grip.

All around, soldiers clubbed or strangled each other. A Federation soldier just left to Takagi was stabbing a Zeon. The blade was thrust over and over into the enemy's gut. The pitiful Zeon coughed up blood and begged the attacker to stop. The Federation soldier, Takagi recognized it was Bukowski, was in a panic. It was Bukowski's life, or the Zeon. Tears welled up in Bukowski's eyes, as he plunged the knife into the gut of the Zeon soldier for the final time. He watched, as the enemy's pleas for mercy ceased.

The Zeon attackers were on the run. Takagi called for his men to regroup. In the chaos, he did not realize how many casualties they had suffered. There were twenty plus wounded soldiers that had been carried from the street and into the lobby on a hotel. The column had only one medic in their number, and she was already critically short on medical supplies. Some of the more critically wounded were in no condition to be moved. Before Takagi could figure out what to do about the wounded, the Zeon forced a decision.

000

The hover truck raced at a near reckless speed toward the stricken Zaku. It was cramped inside the armored vehicle. Unlike the command variant, the standard model was not build for the comfort of officers. Rather, every bit of usable space was taken up by electronics or equipment stowage.

Leighton sat on top of a stack of ammunition crates, fastened down by a cargo net. He fitted a flak jacket onto his torso, while the OSI Officer reluctantly handed over a pistol belt. In his knees, the Lieutenant balanced a modified flight helmet used by crews on the RTX-65s. A wire dangled out of the helmet; to be plugged into the radio affixed to the front of the flak jacket.

Visible from the small view slits on the hover truck was the chaotic scene outside. There was a stream of wounded soldiers being carried from the front, either on stretchers or over the shoulders of their comrades. On more than one occasion, the hover truck driver had to slam on the equivalent to brakes and bring the vehicle to an abrupt halt. This happed on the multiple occasions when the road ahead became clogged with the wounded. A Dopp fighter would fly low over the building and strafe the roads with its cannons. The attacks had soldiers scrambling for cover against the sides of the ruined buildings. The gunner aboard the hover truck furiously returned fire from the vehicle's Vulcan. It was clear the Zeon were gaining air superiority.

The hover truck came to another halt. It was evident they had reached their destination when the side door opened. The OSI Officer motioned Leighton to the door. The Lieutenant stood up and climbed through the hatch and stepped onto the street. The door was promptly shut behind him. Once delivered, the OSI Officer and the MPs had fulfilled their obligation. Now, they could return to the airport and figure out their own escape.

"Lieutenant!" Tupolev shouted.

The Zaku, the one Leighton had stolen and Fields deactivated, knelt in the intersection. Like a giant monument out of place in this warzone. To the right, a collapsed building cradled the one Tupolev had crashed. The Sergeant ran up to Leighton, excited to see the Lieutenant. He wrapped his arms around his friend, embracing the Lieutenant in the welcoming hug of the Muscovites.

"Misha," Leighton replied, as he felt himself being crushed. "It is…good to see…you too."

"Er-sorry Lieutenant," Tupolev said, as he released Leighton.

"So, you managed to fuck up my machine?"

"No, I broke mine. It was that Warrant Officer, who did this to yours."

Tupolev turned and pointed to the kneeling Zaku. Another Dopp fighter screeched overhead. The engines of the spacenoid fighter had a distinctive, unmistakable noise when it operated in this atmosphere. The situation grew worse and the Federation forces in this area could not hold out much longer. The Lieutenant and Sergeant had to work quickly, lest they be overrun by the Zeon. Leighton, with Tupolev following closely behind, approached the base of the Zaku.

"The reactor is still operable?" Leighton asked.

"Da," Tupolev replied. "It has power, but I cannot get any response from other systems."

Leighton climbed up a chain ladder that allowed access to the cockpit, several meters from the ground. Once he scaled the ladder, Leighton climbed into the pilot seat. Tupolev remained on the ground. The Lieutenant began to type commands on a small keyboard attached to the Zaku's main consol, by a pivot arm. The commands were basic Zeon boot-up commands. The same ones entered when a technician needed to access an operational system on one of the space colonies of Side 3. Leighton had figured out the Zakus ran off of the same operating system the Zeon used on every computer that served a life support, mechanical, or operations task. It was not difficult, for one accustomed, to learn its application on the Zaku.

"I think I got it," Leighton said over his radio to Tupolev.

"What do you mean?" Tupolev inquired.

"It was in power down mode. Remember when we encountered them the first time. The Zekes power them down for the orbital drop. That Warrant Officer fuck probably switched it off and didn't realize it."

"Fuck me, right? The one thing I overlook! My apologies Lieutenant."

The power coursed through the systems of the Zaku, the way blood would flow through a human body. The systems began to activate one by one. The ominous red glow of the ocular sensor began to sweep left to right. Leighton brought up the results of the system diagnostic the computer ran upon activation. It appeared everything was in working order. The Lieutenant gave a "thumbs up" to the Sergeant, who responded in kind. After the exchange, Leighton closed the cockpit hatch.

Before proceeding, there was one item of business. Leighton found the first aid kit to his left, above his head. He opened the metal box. The first aid supplies had been previously removed. In their place, Leighton had stashed a flask of whiskey. The Lieutenant took the flask in hand and began to drink. He swallowed several gulps, before the harsh taste forced him to cough. Once satisfied, Leighton returned the flask to the kit.

Leighton brought the Zaku to a standing position and began to survey the area. The soldiers in the street stopped what they were doing to gaze in a transfixed wonder at the mobile suit. They watched, as the arms began to rotate and then the torso. It was to check the range of motion and ensure the joints were operable. Leighton recalled the instructions given to him on the ride to the front.

The Officer from the Office of Strategic Intelligence briefed Leighton on the Army's situation. It was revealed that Operation Resilient Ridge, what they had called this attack, had turned into a complete disaster. The Federation attacks were poorly coordinated and units had suffered heavy casualties. The advance had devolved into a rout. The order had been discreetly given to begin the evacuation of the 5th Army from Mogadishu. They would slip away from their positions under the cover of darkness. At 05:00 the next morning, a massive artillery barrage would commence in order to cover the Army's final evacuation and hold the Zeon at bay. The city was considered lost.

General Frederickson wished to see the Zaku's full might turned against the Zeon. He hoped it would turn the tide of the battle, but he knew the situation was beyond that stage. The orders Frederickson gave to the Office of Strategic Intelligence were; to have Leighton repower the Zaku and deliver it safely to the airport, once again. From there, it would be loaded immediately onto a Medea transport and flown to the Federation base in Nairobi.

Leighton had the mobile suit up to full power. Tupolev and the technicians in the hover truck prepared to move. They would create a passage though the stream of wounded and defeated soldiers in order to allow the captured Zaku to travel safely. The Lieutenant was ready to turn the mobile suit and begin the trek, when a familiar voice came over the radio.

"This is Captain Takagi," the voice began. "To any Federal units in the area, help. We are holding position in a low-rise hotel, the Hotel Xeeb. We have many wounded who are unable to move. What is left of my Battalion is holding out against repeated Zeon attack. We are running critically short on ammunition. We need immediate evacuation. Does anyone copy?"

The transmission continued with similar requests being made. Leighton had to pause. His orders were to deliver the Zaku, and he realized he was in enough trouble already. The thought of leaving those men there did not sit well with the Lieutenant. Tupolev was monitoring the broadcast as well. He interpreted the silence from Leighton as a decision. Leighton activated the forward movement control of the Zaku. The mobile suit took a step, but it was not trailing the hover truck back to the airport. Leighton was taking the Zaku north, toward the enemy and Takagi.

000