The War on Gundam

by Eyefantasy

New dangers lurk when our After Colony heroes are mysteriously transported to Anno Domini. A new war will be waged, and it's up to Heero and friends and their new Gundams to protect this new world from falling into catastrophe. Battle lines will be drawn and crossed as military and political leaders plot revolution. As the world changes, the war on Gundam has just begun.

5. Chapter 5: The Changing Future

AN: It's been too long. This chapter turned out to be more than I thought it would be in words. Too many words. It's part of a larger arc that is leading up to the Taribian conflict. So, there's more in the wings. Also, a caveat: There is a lime/lemon in this chapter. It's short and between two male characters that we're familiar with, and I thought it was cool I that never realized it until the implications of them being in the same hotel room was made explicit in the Gundam 00 movie compilation (and partly in the series with his picture in his mobile suit). Is the lime/lemon needed? Probably not, but this one felt right. It gives me practice writing sexual themes and exploring sexuality, and how Alejandro views Ribbons.

Also, no fight scenes in this one. This is chapter is character-driven. I guarantee you there will be a battle scene in the next chapter. We can't forget about Heero now, can we?

Side note: I am still working on Icarus's Vanguard. Besides work, I get a deluge of ideas that distract me from my main stories.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam 00 or Wing and any affiliated stories. I just like to write about stuff I like.

---

Warm dusk sunlight bathed the fountain where Quatre sat at its walled-brick edges, listening to the energetic splash of the water rise and fall and enjoying the small community of people gathered in the café square. Despite the coolness of the evening breaching his skin, he – and like so many here – ignored it and found comfort in the warmth and liveliness of the atmosphere.

He spied at least ten to eleven people gathered around the fountain's edges, a drink, or a smoldering cigarette in their hands, lackadaisically resting, uninterrupted by life's dizzying energy. Others were on their phones, taking selfies, texting, or reading. They did not seem to mind the running children, whose jubilant laughter resounded with the crowd, as they whip their hands into a frenzy inside the fountain's water and splashed one another.

It was a very peaceful atmosphere to lose oneself, and Quatre found himself doing just that. He compartmentalized Rashid's stern lecture on undermining his authority when in public after meeting with the princess. He wasn't sorry about what he had said at the meeting, but as someone he cared and looked out for, Quatre did apologize and promised to keep his opinions, unless when asked, expressly to himself.

In his periphery, there was a dark spot that called in its silence as people walked to and forth, ignoring, or consciously forgetting, the mar. The security forces that ambled about, watching behind black-midnight sunglasses, couldn't protect what had already happened. No one could protect past.

The security forces stood before and surrounded a yellow taped barrier. What called to Quatre, like voices screaming in terror, was the blackened wreckage of a building, crumpled, broken, and black. Black scorched the rubble; black scorched the walls and ran up the sides of adjacent buildings; black scorched the ground and made it seem volcanic, as if it was still hot.

Observing the rubble, Quatre surmised it might have been an explosion that tore into the building, shattered glass, and obliterated and seared flesh. A pretty large one as spiderweb cracks lingered underneath black scars on the ground. He was almost afraid to look at it – but he had to: confronting terror took away its engulfing fear. It made it bearable to face it, eye to eye, and subdue it.

He wondered when this had happened and why. He wondered if this stressed the kingdom, that the princess felt the tremoring of her people, of her people enraged and manifested across the city. This was a strong possibility, and he knew, somehow, he was right. Just how right he was, he would see in the future.

But the princess's ineptitude to control her people, to quell violence that was beginning to throw her country into the depths of civil war, brought Quatre short with her. His people and his property, despite being of foreign design, needed her protection. If she couldn't protect them, in fear of siding with a foreign entity, which would raise hell against the conservatives, then his workers would be endangered by the growing propensity of violence that seemed to gnaw its way closer to his people.

This country was headed towards violent rebellion, spurred on by radical and insidious forces that would love for Azadistan to fall, to break into edible pieces for consumption. It came as no surprise to Quatre why the ESUE wanted to obtain the region. Besides their coveted imperialism to elongate their empire and have strategic bases within the region to intimidate the AEU and the HRL, the ESUE desired something more physical. It could only be found on Earth but refined into something new for the colonies and colony construction and military hardware.

Steel.

Azadistan's growth today relied heavily on mining iron and carbon and refining it into steel exports, where, even after centuries, its production seemed unlimited. It was one of the reasons why Azadistan's economy, along with its new solar generators and its plastic and fruit exports despite years of drought, could stay afloat. When fossil fuels were superseded by the new solar generation technology and the Solar Wars, Azadistan fell into dissolution, and its only way to rally its people before civil conflict could reduce the monarchy and country to ashes, was a war with its neighbor Krugis.

The country was walking a very thin line between self-destruction and war. If the ESUE proved impatient in its saber rattling and finally thrusted its saber into the heart of Azadistan and then extended its reach into Middle Eastern kingdoms and nations, they would fall like lambs to slaughter to a mechanized factory. If Azadistan fell, the ESUE would forcibly conscript her people into its imperialist war or genocide them by stealing all their natural resources, following in the same vein of the fallen nations before it. Quatre couldn't let this happen, wouldn't let this happen when he had the power to act.

Patience was virtue, but even virtues could be worn and diminished into a skeletal foundation that teetered on crumbling into dust. But still… But still he had to arm patience like a shield, which was why he patiently waited for Rashid to meet him in the small square as he had been called back to the princess to finalize negotiations. These negotiations depended on how much Quatre's patience would wither or thrive.

Quatre checked his phone finding the time late in the evening. He withheld a sigh as his messages remained unchanged and grew a bit restless as this meant talks were still underway. As he leaned backwards on his hands, staring at the dusk sky in long horizontal melding bars of orange, purple, and dark blue, a sudden shadow darkened his view. He turned his attention to an old man hobbling in front of him, his cane his steady guide and balance as it moved with his ponderous feet.

Passing Quatre, the old man collapsed into the seat next to him, expelling a deep breath. His shoulders slumped but soon shook as he let a low chuckle erupt from his chest and rumbled in his throat. He gave Quatre a polite nod, his dark eyes on his gray mustached face pleasant and curious. He soon turned his attention to the market and then to the sky.

"You like looking at stars, boy?" the man asked softly, his gaze still focused upward. "You can't see them from here, not with the light of the city. Barely see them at all. Just specks of white fading into blue-black night."

Quatre gave the man a quiet appraisal. He looked to be an older man in his 80s, judging by how frail his body seemed and how his green and brown clothes, weathered dull and mute, hung from him like a hangar. Age lines and spots were prevalent and deep and ran up and down his face and arms.

"Yeah," Quatre responded. He hunched forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands and placed it under his chin as his eyes remained skyward. He gazed further than the white speckles.

"Looking at them from Earth, they seem a lot closer than in space. No matter how much light bleeds into the sky, they'll still be there. Waiting. Beautiful. Magical," replied Quatre.

It was almost like he could touch them the further he moved his eyes upward into the sky. It was one of the things he had found he enjoyed while on Earth. The stars looked just as alive as they were in space. As much as Quatre loved outer space, there were some things space could not provide, and that was simply perspective from this colorful world.

"You've been to space now?" the old man asked, turning his head to him.

Quatre nodded. "Yeah. I was born there."

"Born there," the old man echoed. He chuckled a little. "What an amazing gift – to be born among the stars. What amazing things humans can do when working together to further humankind and live there.

"You know, my son worked on the Union's orbital elevator. Tower, it's called. Yes, indeed, he's an engineer. His dreams could not be filled here as Azadistan does not have a prolific space program as the Union, so he immigrated to the United States. And to endeavor in building a linear train to space, as painstaking as it was, is an amazing feat. I was even invited by him to go on the linear train and visit space.

The man's face became wide and open, his eyes shining, his lips a large grin. "To see the Earth from below, to feel the lack of gravity is something I will never forget. To see the Earth and my beautiful Azadistan from space made me weep. We can never know how precious the Earth is to us, how finite its resources are."

A smile pulled at Quatre's lips. "Problems of the world seem comparably small from outer space but no less important. Watching the Earth, its axis spinning, spinning, in perpetuality, really calls to the heart. In space, things are hard. Living in space is hard, it's difficult, but it's worth it, and as humanity spreads to the stars, we cannot forget the Earth and her beauty. How we have to protect it."

He looked at his hands then. He did not realize how hard he was balling his fists. Blood thrummed to the surface of his finger imprints in angry red splotches and then faded to the white of his palms. The Earth and stars must co-exist together. They must. To be separate is to fall out of balance, and if we're out of balance the world falls apart. There is no existence without the other.

"You must see things differently than the way we Earthlings see them. To live among the stars…" the man broke Quatre out of his reverie as he inclined his head in his direction.

Quatre smiled. "We do. There's a different environment and culture up there. Sometimes, it's peaceful. Sometimes, it's not."

"Peaceful? Hmm. I dare say it's not down here. What you're seeing is a façade, for now. What's lurking underneath is another monster we are unprepared and unwilling to face.

"This country is going through hardship. It has been through a lot. Princess Marina, inshallah, had led our country very well. Her heart is in the right place, but with youth, sometimes, she has to rein her optimistic idealism to the realism of the situation. We're not in good shape.

"See the markets over there." The man pointed to a near empty area of canopies stretching into a long aisle with empty tables lining the sides. Quatre said he did.

"As you can you see those are empty. You would think that would be good. But there's a serious drought in the rural regions and food scarcity has become a huge problem in industrial areas like Tabriz and Tehran. The rural regions are a nightmare in itself.

With scarcity comes high demand of products, and then, the death nail hits when prices unfortunately rise to meet the demand. And the fear of foreigners colonizing, taking our wealth for their own self-interest, has put a great strain between are two party system. It's a difficult situation."

"What do you think they should do?" Quatre asked.

"Well, we can't do nothing. To do nothing invites death, and I would rather live. But human beings can be cruel when desperation and fear controls their motivations. That's something I don't want to see. I saw it during the Krugis-Azadistan War. Men, women, children employed in bloody murderous work that took away innocence and lives. Ruined a great many."

The man turned and pointed at the scorched rubble. "This is what happens when fear runs rampant, when it infects people's minds, and then festers into madness. Extremists came in, singing their praise to Allah, and razed the earth, killing tens of people two days ago."

Even with the quickening of night, as it darkened the area, the rubble seemed like a void, endless and devouring maw. Quatre could still feel the maw expel screams of innocents. The immutable scar wouldn't heal, even when the rubble was cleared. It would still echo in the mind of all those who were present. A shiver ran down his arms.

The old man paused solemnly and the way his jaw clenched made him seem ancient. Full of ancient pain and ache etched in the lines of his face. "I don't want to see that again," he finally said quietly. "I don't want to see my home inflamed in violence by the ESUE or her own people. It would devastate the region. But things aren't looking too bright with the food shortages and political escalations.

"I just hope peace can be established, otherwise, my home – our homes – will perish." He stood up slowly and dusted himself off. "It's time for my leave. Thank you for letting an old man talk. Don't stay out too long, boy, we all need our rest."

With a start, he hobbled away, his cane striking the ground echoed in the distance. "What would happen if this nation disappeared in the fires of war," Quatre asked himself. He hunched himself over the ledge, his arms resting on his legs as his head bent down.

He was there for some time, thinking, when he heard a series of footfalls. The footsteps stopped by his shoes. Quatre lifted his head up and looked into the smiling face of Abdul. "Master Quatre, we're good to go. Our preparations are set for our visit to Sarbaz and…" he leaned forward, his black glasses shining menacingly from the stream of yellow streetlights, "Princess Marina agreed."

"Agreed to what?" Quatre asked carefully.

"We can station Maganac troops and mobile suits as deterrent against any resistance. She agreed to this quite reluctantly I might add. There's a caveat: We can only fight to defend that is. If we're attacked, we can attack. Her assistant, Ms. Baktiar, quite readily agreed to this. I wonder…"

"'bout what?" Quatre asked, nodding gravely at the information.

"Why would she say yes? Doesn't really make sense."

"No, it doesn't. But I suspect she's a lot cleverer than we give her credit." Quatre blinked and then an epiphany hit him. "I had my doubts, but this is a good thing. We can finally move up operations."

A flash of yellow lighting lit Abdul's features from the lampposts. His smirk became downright eager. "Let Operation Blue Aegis begin."

---

Rain pelted the window where Wufei sat, beating the glass in an unrhythmic rhythm that changed by the minute. Under the soft yellow lighting, Wufei gazed at the flash drive in his hand, watching the USB stick catch the light and reflect off its metal tip. The way the light glinted on the metal made the edges appear sharp like a knife. He gave it another careful look, quite curious of its content, before putting it into his laptop's USB port.

He was in the Berlin Central and Regional Library, having just escaped the clutches of Rahm who had all but asked for him to spend another round in one of Berlin's many bars. He had adamantly refused, saying he had work to conduct and needed time on his own. To Rahm's great reluctance, and Wufei's exhale of relief, he acquiesced and drove him to the library. There they departed with Rahm inviting him to another bar if he ever was in town.

Wufei lied and said he would, knowing, unless he had to, he would never again spend time with that man. Rahm was too gregarious for his taste and that often clashed with his quiet and thoughtful disposition. He had no filter at times, and Wufei discovered when he was drunk Rahm would rant and rave about this and that, amusing patrons and bartenders alike in fantastical stories. Wufei could see why bartenders liked him so much. An atmosphere of fun and festivity followed him along like the shirt on his back. Traveling with him was its own microcosm of celebrations.

"Never again," Wufei whispered as he watched his laptop read the files from the USB drive. "Now, let's see what you have got for us, Eternal."

The file window popped open and then he furrowed his brow in confusion. "Is this it?"

Inside the window was only one beige folder. He clicked on the folder and two files appeared. One was a video file and the other one was a code file icon. Wufei felt his confusion grow. He expected more on this small flash drive than these two files, considering Eternal's contemporary.

"A video file and a code file," he pondered thoughtfully. There had to be more than this, he was sure of it. His intuition had never led him astray, and intuition was a powerful thing when logic served as the foundation.

Looking to his sides, behind, and front, Wufei found barely anyone in the facility. The closest person to him was the librarian who was approximately twenty-one meters away. The librarian's eyes were glued to his screen as he quickly typed in the call number from a large stack of texts from several book carts. There were some people scattered about like drifting molecules, distracted by a tablet, book, or notebook in hand.

Dark eyes drifting back to his satchel, Wufei took a pair of wireless headphones and put them in his ears. On the screen his pointer finger pressed on the video file. It took a moment to load on the screen, but the video window popped open, and the face of Eternal Alan Ray appeared.

Ray had a small smile on his face, his light skin a sharp contrast to his dark green, short hair that almost appeared brown in the dim lighting of his background. He wore a solid blue blazer over a muted, button-down, yellow shirt with the collar open and softly falling down his blazer's lapel. He looked like a younger version of Rahm, his nose sharper and pointed, his eyes larger and a deep shade of purple.

Ray smiled at him as he started, "Hello humanity's saviors. I am Eternal Alan Ray, a member and co-founder of Celestial Being. If you are seeing this, then this means my journey has come to an end. Had I lived longer than this, I would have been personally happy to have met you and discussed the newly awakened world and humanity's innovation to the stars.

"Unfortunately, since you have accessed this drive, the future may be in danger, and the eradication of war is in turmoil due to human follies or outside forces. It's perplexing. Human beings are like this sometimes, their insatiable greed and fight for supremacy has led to humankind's downfall over eons."

Ray shook his head and closed his eyes briefly at what he said. When he opened them, he continued, a smile dancing on his lips and eyes shining with something that resembled genuineness or hope. "We can focus on the follies of humans another time. You're here to ensure humanity's survival.

"What I'm about to give you are the keys to the future. The future is unpredictable – no one can truly grasp it. We can understand the patterns, yes, but we humans don't have the foresight to truly predict its workings."

Ray seemed to chuckle at something as his eyes glided down for a moment. "But we have tried. Aeolia has tried with different keys, opening humans to the new realms and worlds of possibilities. These possibilities make the future worth saving if one were to have the courage take the plunge. I hope you see it the same way.

"As you know, a key unlocks many things – or locks them forever – and these keys, I hope, will preserve humanity, for when the time comes, the final key will be humanity's hope. Now, in my travels, I left various keys around the world. Gather these keys. Because of the secrecy of Celestial Being, I cannot divulge the true location, but once you find these keys, they will lead you to your final location.

"Do not lose this key. It will consistently update in your code file. On the code file is your first destination. I left the first key somewhere safe. Find the location and continue the mission. Good luck."

The video ended with Eternal's smile. Encouraged purple eyes. Frozen. Ever hopeful.

Wufei was left in a stunned and thoughtful contemplation.

He sat there in the storming silence as the rain crashed against the windows and obscured the city. He contemplated Eternal's message carefully. What he now held was a key to humanity's future. But a future to and for what were left unexplained.

Wufei narrowed his eyes. Humanity's future? To what ends? What a loaded question. Humanity has always fought for a future, but that future is sometimes indeterminate. The future is always in motion, influenced by its environment, a person's hopes, and those, who stole those hopes, and sought to turn them to their own self-serving ambition.

Treize flashed in his mind, and Wufei, caught in the moment, didn't realize how hard he was balling his fingers into a fist. He unclenched his hand and shook off the numbness. He then gave a small sigh. The man was still a nightmare to his thoughts.

Our we dealing with people like Treize, those who would dictate the future for their own control over the will of the people? What path did you and Aeolia plan?

Wufei was used to the unexplainable and to piecing together different worlds to form a cohesive picture. All he needed were these inexplicable terminals. However, he imagined the world Ray lived in had now changed. Would these terminals still exist, or would they be lost to time and age?

Wufei didn't know the answer. He could only maintain that Ray had the foreknowledge to predict future events. If he didn't, Wufei found this meaningless scavenger hunt would prove fruitless and a waste of time. He hoped he was wrong.

He exited out of the video window and moved his finger to the code file and clicked on it. He read the directions of the first location as it popped up:

23˚ 18' 20" N

78˚ 26' 36" W

The final location coordinates appeared in text at the bottom:

45˚

125˚

Memorizing the first set of latitude and longitude locations, he pulled up his electronic map and set to work. As his eyes moved across the globe, he slowly narrowed them on the location of the coordinates. His face remained blank, but a thoughtful hum vibrated from his throat. It seemed he had more tickets to book for air and sea travel.

---

It was late in the evening when a wet Setsuna returned to his apartment building in Tokyo. He had left Exia in the shelter and protection of her GN Container off the coast of Tokyo Bay in Ōta City. Celestial Being had sent the mobile vehicle during the start of operations to serve as his civilian operating base. It was deep in the bay, at a depth where it remained hidden from the sights of curious divers but not deep enough where bodies were crushed by unseen pressure that seized lungs and closed airways.

He felt mild irritation build at the state of his clothes. His clothes, for the most part, were drenched from the sea. He had to swim to the surface as he did not have an underwater vehicle to lift him up, less there be questions from curious observers on his reentry to society. Or risk passing by an officer.

Time from Tokyo Bay to Toshima did not seem to dry his clothes but to dampen and freeze his skin as autumn wind came and caressed Setsuna and his clothing with a cool touch. He did his best drying himself off as he made his way to the nearest trains, but he still left puddles on seats and behind his feet. He figured he would need to purchase a waterproof backpack to store his clothes at his nearest convenience.

Going through the foyer, he headed to the elevators. A bright ring came, and the elevator door opened. As he entered, he stood to his right watching his reflection on the golden frame of the elevator buttons. His hair stood limp and wet, and his bangs clung together in strands like thick wet ropes. He felt the need for a long shower and rest.

As the doors closed, a voice called from the foyer, urgent in its approach and volume, "Hey! Hold up! Hold that elevator door!"

Before Setsuna could push the open-door button, a white arm barged through the closing slip followed by the body of a young man. The man breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes closed, a slight smile on his face. "Didn't think I would make it."

Setsuna retracted his hand to his sides and appraised the hunched over man. He had brown hair, his bangs sprung like a collection of tendrils, and a long dangling braid wound down his black blazer and touched his ass. The man looked up and Setsuna noticed his large cobalt blue eyes on his face and how young he looked. He looked a bit older than him. He had to be a person in their late teens. The teen smiled and Setsuna stared.

"Yo!" he waved, and Setsuna again felt his irritation build.

Seeing Setsuna's reluctance to talk, the teen merely shrugged. Setsuna could sense the extroversion from him like it was a second skin – his shining and happy eyes, the large grin on the teen – it seemed unrestrainable. The man turned to the elevator buttons and pushed 30 above Setsuna's 24. He took a step back and stood to Setsuna's left.

The elevator closed and took them up. It was quiet for barely a second before the teen broke it.

"Ya know, it's pretty cold for a swim," the teen said. Still staring at the elevator button frame, Setsuna could feel the older teen's grin. "I bet you're freezin' your ass off. Couldn't be me in this weather as much as I like the ocean."

Setsuna glanced at him and said, "I know. I went to retrieve a child's ball that fell in the ocean."

The teen gave him an incredulous look, twisted his lips, and scrunched his face into a comical expression. "Really? In this weather? Damn. That water is freezing at this time of year – right-to-the-bone cold. I guess ya couldn't ignore it, could ya? Was it worth gettin' sick for a ball? To play hero?"

The teen then broke into a small chuckle that rumbled his throat and echoed in the small compartment. Setsuna answered him with a shrug, saying, "Yeah."

The teen leaned back against the bronze-colored, gleaming wall, his arms resting on gold rails. "Pretty nice of ya to do, pal. Hmph. I woulda done the same, to see that child smile. Nothing like seeing a child's smile. I guess some risks ya gotta take in life. You gotta be persistent if you want anything from life. Even if it's a small moment in time."

From Setsuna's periphery, there was a warm smile on the teen's face. His eyes seemed far away as they glided to the ceiling's corner. Setsuna returned his eyes to the elevator buttons noticing it was on floor 15. A few more and he would be home.

A sudden flash caught Setsuna's eyes. The light seemed to have come from the other teen. His chestnut eyes found, under the white lighting of the elevator ceiling, something hanging down the boy's front. It was a white badge and it read: JNN Reporter. Duo Maxwell.

Setsuna's eyes slightly narrowed as he returned his eyes to the elevator frame. Duo Maxwell. Yes, he had heard of that name before, that specific one. A photojournalist and freelancer for JNN, he served as a mobile suit technology journalist as well. Looking at the teen again, he never imagined him being this young.

Setsuna blinked when Duo caught his eye through the elevator frame's reflection. Duo gave a grin and inclined his head to him. "Yo, what's up? I see that you're givin' me that 'suspicious' look. If ya wanna know something, just ask, buddy? No need to make that face."

Setsuna frowned. Duo was a lot perceptive than he imagined. A thought came and he rolled it over in his head. He wasn't too sure he would ask, but if it could get him more clarity then he would take the risk. But how to go about this… he wondered, watching the teen look a bit impatient as he crossed his arms.

Setsuna figured he'll start out small and build. "Duo Maxwell. JNN reporter. Must be a tough job."

Duo smiled at Setsuna and shrugged his shoulders. "It's alright. It's not too bad, not too good. It's challenging as hell, but like with anything that's daring, it's so very worth it."

Setsuna nodded at the answer. He seemed receptive which was good. "I follow you on JNN. You're a good writer. I'm surprised you don't do live interviews. Most of your interviews are by phone or audio."

Duo seemed surprised by this, judging by his eyebrows lifting, and then he chuckled. "You can say I'm a bit camera shy." He turned his eyes to the front door. "Most of the time I'm not available. I'm usually travellin' from one place to the next. It's gettin' busier these days, ya know."

"Is that so," Setsuna responded, nodding his head once.

"Yeah. Can't help that, can I? There's always something to do with the way the world is now," said Duo, throwing in a small chuckle. "Always something out there."

The chuckle sounded humorless to Setsuna's ears. Like it was meant to mock Duo or the state of the world. Perhaps the older teen found the world ironic, that his job revolved around destruction than unity. It sounded like his job didn't bring him much joy.

Seeing an opening in the conversation, Setsuna seized it. "Yeah. The state of the world seems to be in chaos whether you're in the ESUE, Union, HRL, or AEU. In your latest piece, you state the growing arms conflict between the solar power nations and the ESUE is increasing conflict from cold to simmering. What do you predict will happen?"

"Well," Duo drawled but paused. The corner of his mouth turned down and he took on a look of contemplation. "We know the four nations are playing a zero-sum geopolitical game for prestige and military might," Duo managed, "but I feel that prestige is only a façade for one nation."

There seemed to be something great on his mind as his eyes still held that look of contemplation. "The ESUE has been increasing tension between all three solar nations since the end of the South African Rebellion, and its only heightened feelings of aggression. Proxy wars and arming insurgents to weaken the three other nations. As much as there is tension between the HRL, Union, and AEU, they've only grown closer since the war, especially building a relationship to further space development. Ha! Now that's a beautiful positive.

"It's the ESUE that has me worried." Duo bit softly on his thumb, thinking, and then put his hands to his side. "Something's going on with them. With a lack of reporting on them, this is concerning."

Setsuna nodded accordingly. He felt the same but found all nations complicit in making war. Celestial Being's purpose was world peace through the end of conflict and the necessity to destroy any and all organizations that abet war. Despite the growing relationships between the three solar nations – which he found aligned with Veda's goals – they still supported open and subterfuge conflict, and that, in its unholiness, was the moral wrong of three nations that needed to be changed.

The ESUE was a nation Setsuna truly despised. He despised them because their very nature, inherent in their behavior and their three principles, made peace impossible. Peace was a contradiction, a wayward digression, or regression. To the ESUE, when they talked about peace, it was in ruling. Domination.

They had three principles and these standards framed their society and warlike culture.

Their first principle: Authority is Rule.

Humans were meant to be ruled, and to Setsuna that reeked of tyranny and oppression. Celestial Being may have been considered a terrorist entity, but they never sought to rule. Setsuna committed atrocities to take on the moral sins of the world and lead it to a freer and unified existence. It was a terrible burden to bear, because, in their interventions, innocents were killed.

However, he had to bear it as those deaths were a solemn reminder of changing this distorted world.

The ESUE believed their very existence, granted by a false God, deferred to them powers of rule. They felt ordained to spread what was known as the Rule of Khushrenada. It was said by their former deceased leader, Treize Khushrenada, humans were meant to be ruled as God gave them too much freedom.

The second rule was Celestial Being's antithesis: War is Necessary.

The ESUE would manufacture, create, and prolong war to further perpetuate their empire. On a smaller scale, the HRL, Union, and AEU were doing the same for prestige and showcasing their military might in a zero-sum game. The ESUE instigated war because war and conflict were their ritual, their existence. It drove Setsuna mad that they were allowed to exist and claim war created peace. But Setsuna knew the truth: war fought to expand and dehumanize could never gain true peace.

A flash of wreckage came sharply in his mind of Krugis and the bloody aftermath of Azadistan swallowing up the country. He balled his hands. Their excuse of a war still left the country unstable, and peace was nowhere to be found.

The last principle was Conflict is Reformation.

Setsuna had found this principle interesting to say the least. The ESUE leaders hoped through war and authority, the summation of their foundation, to reform the world. Through conflict a person actualized their self. He wasn't too sure world domination would lead to reformation nor the will of those oppressed would surrender to an ideal.

Looking back at Duo, Setsuna retraced their conversation. There was something in his voice that made Setsuna alert. "I thought you would know, considering your source?"

Duo snorted. "That source – that beautiful source – is risking their lives with that information. Thank the stars and galaxies they haven't been caught. The ESUE does not allow foreign journalists, and if they did, only a skewed truth could be gleamed from the report. Their borders are closed to anyone who hasn't fallen under their devious spell."

Duo looked relieved as he blew out a sigh. Then, "But that's not what you wanted to hear."

Setsuna blinked slowly. "What do you mean?"

"It's written all over your face. Can't say it's written on everyone else's face for that matter. You want to know about Celestial Being and what affect they're going to have on the world, and ya know what? I'm sure they'll do awesome! They got tenacity. They'll make the world tremble to a shake and change. Whether that change will be for the betterment of the world, I don't know. Things are looking more clouded."

Setsuna stared at him for a while. "You don't think their interventions will eradicate warfare?" he finally asked.

Duo smirked and his eyes seemed to twinkle. "Celestial Being has the technology and sure as hell they have their overzealous and overcommitted pilots. I bet they ain't gettin' much sleep nowadays. This isn't an easy task to do. But I think it's not gonna go the way they think it will. I hope that I'm wrong, but…"

He trailed off, looking thoughtful, his eyes flashing for a moment. "Somethin' tells me the future isn't as malleable as we would like to believe."

Setsuna thought over what he said, and he could agree to some points. It was true Celestial Being had no control over the future. They didn't know what type of future would come from the wreckage of their battles. Even with Sumeragi Lee Noriega, as gifted as she was in forecasting with Veda's predictions, did not mean things would come easy.

But Setsuna had one thing he held tight to, that would never waiver, no matter what darkness came to crush it and take him whole. He had already been through that darkness himself, bent his body and mind through shadows, and laid his hands on his own and the innocence of others.

Setsuna knew where that darkness could lead, but he had, like a blooming desert flower, faith, and that faith came from his wholehearted belief to exterminate war. The Gundams were the centerpiece to that divine crusade. Embodying the spirit of Gundam, Setsuna wanted to spread that faith to the world. Just like that time in Krugis.

A ring soon came, and the elevator stopped on floor twenty-four. The elevator doors opened. He strode out but stopped at the entry of the doors, and said, "Thank you for the conversation, Duo Maxwell."

As soon as he strode out of the elevator, Duo's voice called him to a halt. "Hey, I didn't get your name, buddy!"

"Setsuna F. Seiei."

"Well then Setsuna buddy, I'll see ya soon!" Setsuna missed his wave as he headed to his apartment.

He took his key out and proceeded to unlock the door when he heard a voice next to him. "Hey! You must be my new neighbor!"

Turning his head to the right, Setsuna saw another teenage boy. He looked to be about his age with brown hair that curled to his eyes and fell to his neck. He had large brown eyes and, uncomfortably, they looked innocent and happy. His mind flashed to Duo, who had to be a bit older, but Setsuna noticed right away, despite his age and gregarious nature, his blue eyes were pools of maturity, like they've been through rough waters of hardship.

This boy, judging by his countenance, looked extremely friendly and open in his rolled-up sleeves, dark blue vest, and red tie. He probably went to the local schools here and dutifully did his homework. He looked peaceably comfortable with his place in life, and, suddenly, an epiphany hit Setsuna at the dichotomy and contrast between the two teens. It was unnerving.

Weariness fell on his shoulders, and Setsuna withheld an irritating scowl. Feeling how tired and cold his body was, he was going to ignore him when the boy began to speak again. "It's always nice seeing a new face here. Oh, my apologies. My name is Saji Crossroads. I live here with my older sister. You?"

Annoyed, Setsuna said, "Setsuna F. Seiei," as he turned and opened the door.

Saji cupped his hand under his chin and looked down. "Setsuna F. Seiei? Seiei. What an interesting name. I hope we can –"

Setsuna did not hear what he had to say as he closed his door, jumped out of his drenched clothes, and fled to the shower to wash the smell of ocean off him.

---

President Carlos Fallas of the Republic of Taribia sat nervously staring at his laptop. The room's silence, its loud red walls trimmed in gold, only seemed to provoke his anxiety. He dreaded the next few moments that were to come and tried to keep the glum expression that spread across his face subdued.

It would not suit him in this business dealing.

His hands were clasped, and his fingers opened and closed on his knuckles, a dance they had been doing all morning, since the ray of gray light shined on his face. Even the comforts of rest, which he had foregone the night before, spurred his anxiety. In fact, it seemed to encourage it. And leaped unrestrained to claim him.

Carlos had never been this nervous for a phone call. With foreign dignitaries, the president of the Union, Brian Stegmeyer, and other organizations, he had rooms worth of confidence. He had always taken those in stride, though, lately, he had been more hardline against Stegmeyer and America's iron grip on power distribution from the orbital elevator's solar energy.

He peeled his eyes away from the screen to stare at his now empty room. He had dismissed his advisors and secretaries, saying he needed a moment to think about the decision he was about to make. They thought it was over seceding from the Union. He gave a grim smile. It was more than that.

He knew this could all go wrong, but he was playing to win, whether he lost or won. He needed –

The phone rang. It was emphatic and demanding and he steeled himself and his nerves. He was a politician of a great country, a country who bowed to no nation. A country's who proud heritage demanded its own sovereignty.

But why did these steady rings give him pause, make his belly quiver and his mouth run dry. He listened to the rings until he could no longer ignore as he could ignore the coming of the day and acted.

Pressing the phone icon, only the audio opened on the other line. "Ah, a person of impeccable timing," Carlos said calmly, a complete opposite of his sweaty palms. "Thank you for meeting with me today, Defense Minister Farkill. I am very honored to discuss this opportunity with you."

"It's no problem at all, President Fallas," came a deep, baritone, male voice of Farkill. His tone was very rich in its delivery. Carlos found it grating and he withheld a biting comment. Just deliver what we asked for.

"The ESUE finds it an honor that you have sought us in your time of need. Have you agreed to our offer and conditions?"

I'm sure it is, Carlos thought snidely. He knew this conversation was dangerous and he was dealing with a two-headed dragon: the dragon, when called upon, could grant him victory and treasure or, in its ferocity, eat him alive.

You would love to bleed us dry.

"I looked through your contract, and your terms are reasonable. There is one thing. The question remains: Why are you doing this? We have adequate support for resistance," Carlos asked.

Besides the military, the citizen and police militia groups had been arming themselves. It made him proud that these devout people believed in the sovereignty and autonomy of Taribia. They looked to him for guidance, and he had never felt so full, so powerful in commanding them to fight for their liberty.

There was a long pause on the audio. However, when the man spoke, he could hear the smile in his voice, and it bit into his comment like an enthusiastic white shark claiming fresh meat. "Why, indeed. We see another vulnerable nation reaching out their hand for help. We are that nation that grabs hold and helps those who need it, who will not let the tyranny of the Union be absolute and domineering.

"American imperialism has run its course," the man added with a chuckle. It sounded almost like some sort of finality, and it raised the fine hair on his arms. "When a nation can no longer grow, it will decay. Its ills will fester and degrade. Their golden age will lose its luster, and its radiance, like with all light created in immorality and decadence, will fade. It has to fall like all relics of the past. It must crumble in ruin. Then, and only then, through its destruction can rebirth happen."

"And who's to say another nation would take the Union's place?" Carlos dared to ask. "Would you pressure my country into a stranglehold like they are?"

He needed to ascertain Taribia's fate. This was a gamble he wasn't too sure of its outcome, but by God he knew the ESUE had power. The Union had power too, and he wanted Taribia to be in the same field where they not them commanded their own destiny.

"President Carlos, your lack of faith disappoints me. The ESUE cares about its relationships, but we aren't here to start a world war, to tempt fate into quandary for our nation. There's no need for that. The next stage depends on you. We can help you free your country from the manacles of the Union and their monopolization of solar energy. We just need your final approval."

There it was! The declaration came, and Carlos took a swift exhale through his nostrils. "I approve."

"I believe you, but the fallout I am not looking forward to," added Carlos distastefully. "When the Union hears of this, the repercussions would be quick."

Once the Union knew what they received, and if they lost, the whole country would suffer under the America's big stick waving policies. There was no doubt – there couldn't be – that America would crush any chances of negotiations ever again. The sanctions would be detrimental to their economy.

Unless…

A thought flashed. He felt something bubble up inside him, almost like glee, but it did provoke the same happiness. He wouldn't even call it glee. It was darker but firm and pragmatic. Deceiving.

"Do you what you need to do, and let our gifts be the answer to your freedom. Our gifts wouldn't be like what we give other nations. These gifts will speak for themselves. Put them to use well and claim victory.

"Remember our deal, President Fallas, for if you don't follow, the ESUE has ways of collecting." Farkill spoke the last softly, a chilling warning that tremored almost invisibly in his tone. Visible enough to let Carlos know what would befall him if he should fail.

The phone call dropped off, leaving President Fallas in a stony silence. He stared at his phone for a while, trying to gather his thoughts when tension wracked his body, paralyzed the smallest of movements. He inhaled and exhaled slowly through his nose. He stood up and went to the large window behind his desk.

There were dark clouds looming over the capital. They appeared animus in their dark amorphous body, probably filled with striking lightning and roaring thunder. But in the distance, strays of light pooled from the darken heavens. A smile pulled at his lips. He might have a fighting chance yet and save his nation when all appeared dark.

He put one hand on the window, to where those lone lights fell, and whispered, "For the Republic of Taribia."

---

United Nations Union Ambassador Alejandros Corner let a low moan as he opened his amber eyes and stretched across the bed. His lean and large right hand glided across the twisting white sheets, like trailing down a snow blanketed mountain, in search for the warmth that remained on the other half of the bed. There was a burning and a necessary, almost primal, need he sought to satisfy, to quench and revel in if only to satiate his morning hunger. It burned in his belly and throbbed in his loins.

His fingers treaded and traced the warmth and then he gripped the sheets and moaned in disappointment when he found it empty. He kept his hand there, remembering the passion of last night. It had been euphoric, just like many nights before. The melding of bodies, of plunging and thrusting into sinewy and taut flesh, until they reached that climatic high, where breaths, caught in a vigorous rapture, exhaled in simultaneous exaltation. Euphoric.

It gave him chills just thinking about last night's blissful, intoxicating lust. His amber eyes spied the empty space, and he gave a small frown. "Now, where did he go?"

He looked around the large hotel room but found no trace of his intimate. He wasn't in the chairs, by the bar, the kitchen, or anywhere his amber eyes could see. Unexpectedly, Alejandro did notice his own clothes perfectly folded on the chair near the bed. He gave a low chuckle that rumbled his throat, his assistant truly disliked untidiness. He was one who saw shapes and lines, and if it deviated from its course, he was quick to fix, to put back, to replace, or create anew, where the lines and shapes were fixed instead of skewed.

When he could find no sign of him, he leaned against the headboard of his bed, the sheets, like falling water, drifted downward from his muscled frame to his hips. His hair fell back, and he leaned his head against the wall, listening.

There! He heard it. The pitter-patter sound of water hitting the floor from the shower made his ears perk, and his eyes drifted towards the bathroom. He felt the primal sensation emerge again and grip him and wondered if he too should glide in and surprise the young man.

No. That would be too needy, and though Alejandro was a possessive man, one of covetous nature, he was patient. His family had bred in him patience. Years' worth. He decided he would wait. He did have time before his next meeting with the General Assembly.

And not a moment soon, came his assistant from the bathroom. Alejandro felt himself smile as he appraised the young man who came to stand near his bedside, arms behind his back and a patient smile on his face, waiting. Always waiting for his call which touched Alejandro deeply, for he knew how lucky this angel came to his side. Fortune had smiled that day when this beauty had fallen into his lap.

His assistant was a beauty, young and exquisite like the oldest red wine buried for centuries. His lime green hair danced around his soft and pointed features, curling around his cheeks. Some of his entourage thought the green was dye, but Alejandro knew beneath his pants it was real as green grass grew from the ground. His purple eyes shone for a second, and he almost felt lost in them.

His assistant's face seemed to inherit both masculine and feminine characteristics, soft and subservient then masculine and dominant when those purple eyes grew controlling. Alejandro could feel his member throb and his nipples harden when those purple eyes grew controlling and possessive – just like last night.

Down his long slender neck, he wore a deep skintight blue shirt that almost looked like a collar the way it wrapped around his neck. It humored Alejandro because it represented the young man's astounding willingness, his obeisance, especially at his touch, when his hand curled around his neck in affection, of the lengths his assistant would go for him. A light blue shirt covered his skintight shirt and pants, and a baby blue vest held tight by a golden belt fastened his outfit together.

His assistant bowed his head slightly, his placid smile remaining as he watched Alejandro. "Mr. Corner," his soft voice came, "good morning."

"Now, Ribbons, what did I say? Alejandro, in private. No need to be formal. You weren't formal last night."

Ribbons smiled. "Of course, Mr. Alejandro."

Alejandro smirked. Ribbons still needed to work on his over politeness, especially in private company. He was an obstinate learner in that. But Alejandro had time, as long as he stood by his side, he would always have time. Manners could be taught with repetitive actions, but in the private domain, affection and intimacy were a far better teacher. And Alejandro enjoyed teaching.

"Where are you off to today, Ribbons. Our meeting with the General Assembly is in two hours at 8:30. We still have time." Alejandro moved his hands down his covered thighs as the sheet fell further down his waist. A silent request offered.

Ribbons' smile grew, and Alejandro felt his blood grow hot in his veins. "Unfortunately, Mr. Alejandro, I have a business trip."

"Really?" Alejandro asked, a curious eyebrow rose to meet the space of his forehead. Strange, he was not aware of this. Sometimes it was quite perplexing how Ribbons worked and operated. He was almost like a phantom, appearing to him when needed but gone to haunt other sites.

"If I might ask Ribbons, where to?"

The smile left his face for an earnest response. "I've made a flight reservation for yours and the Corner family's dreams. It's a lead," Ribbons answered immediately. "I'm afraid it cannot wait, Mr. Alejandro."

Alejandro blinked and then his own smile grew. Of course, Ribbons would, always desiring to please him. To say his disappointment in his want for seeking flesh was large would be a lie. Alejandro knew above all else – how could he not when it was engrained into him since his infancy – that the Corner's family's desires and goals superseded his own. They were priority.

"Has Celestial Being taken notice," Alejandro said carefully.

"Of course not, Mr. Alejandro," Ribbons responded, and Alejandro gave a small nod. Indeed, Ribbons was thorough. Celestial Being was arrogant, but it was this arrogance that Alejandro found remarkable. It was this arrogance that he found manipulable.

"Very good, Ribbons." Alejandro looked at the clock in the dresser. It read 6:00 AM. "What time is your flight?"

"The flight should leave at nine, but I would like to be there early. Morning traffic in this city slows to a crawl during the morning commute."

"Is that so? It seems we still have some time," Alejandro purred, removing the sheet and letting it fall to the floor. Ribbons followed his hand as it dropped and stared at his throbbing member.

"Ribbons," Alejandro's voice came softly.

Ribbons gave a helpless smile and shook his head. "My goodness, you can't seem to help yourself." Even as he spoke, he had drifted to him. When Ribbons dropped to his knees grasping him, was when Alejandro said, cupping his warm cheek, "Of course, my angel."

Ribbons bowed his head, and Alejandro swore, through the lush of green and when he felt a wet warmth and tightness wrap around him, he heard angels sing.

---

In space, the stars watched and glittered from afar as a large, blue, spacefaring vessel called the Celestial Being Ship Number 70 Ptolemaios sailed through them, quiet in its approach, solemn in its course, and intrepid in its appearance above the Earth, just out of reach from Earth's anchoring gravity by miles. The very glow of the Earth brightened the hull of the Ptolemaios as it remained on course.

It lived to its name in its pursuit of travelling the heavenly bodies of its origin, pulsing through space with a bevy of brilliant, green particles trailing in its wake, glowing like the stars, and then ebbing like embers into pitch black mass.

Inside the Ptolemaios, his command crew gathered in the conference room. To the right of the room, amid the white lighting that enveloped the five crew members, floating next to the right large monitor was Sumeragi Lee Noriega, the tactical forecaster of the Ptolemaios. She leaned against the gleaming steel railings, arms crossed underneath her heavy and slightly open bosom. Dark, voluptuous, brown hair cascaded and floated behind her like long brush strokes of brown paint; and olive-green eyes focused ahead on the monitor in front of her.

She was relieved to be in her civilian attire. Although, in the end, especially in space, it meant little before an operation. When those alarms bells blared, it was back into the tight and stuffy normal suits. But the fact she could be in her regular clothes did not dismiss her relief or comfort as she quietly reveled in it. A simple blessing for living in space sometimes, she thought.

As much as she loved outer space, it could be annoyingly claustrophobic. To be self-contained to a ship, it felt like she was bottled. Sometimes it felt like being chained or caged to her miseries – to be left alone in the dark of space with nothing but your thoughts. How depressing. It was one of the many sacrifices she had to make before joining the Celestial Being, and in hindsight, it was a minor change. Not all missions called for space travel.

Her blue vest outlined the sloping and lean curves of her upper body and ended at her bare midriff, where white pants streamed down her long legs and white high heels cut into the empty space above the ground. She had no worries of walking in them as they would barely touch the ground because of the lack of gravity. It was one of her favorite things about space in that respect – the freedom of always floating.

Wearing regular clothes meant she was off duty, "off" being the operative word, for when a mission called, she went straight into her normal suit. She shrugged inwardly – she was used to it. It was just like being back in the AEU military, where –

Stop.

She immediately cut those thoughts. They would have consumed her if she went down that familiar rabbit hole, down the dark tunnel of her misery. Her fingers twitched and her throat ran a bit dry. She desperately needed a drink. She looked at her hands and cursed – damn – she left her water bottle in her room.

She felt the growing impatience, the temptress and seductive hand of cravings call to her. She harshly squashed it. She re-focused her attention of who was here with her in the room, hoping it would be enough to silence those whispers, for now. Paralleling her, leaning against the rail, was the black-haired Lasse Aeon.

Lasse, the Ptolemaius' ship gunner, eyed the front monitor with a frown. He wore a tight red shirt that clung to his muscled frame. Sumeragi ogled his hard chest for a bit. She wondered how her hands would feel gliding across his pectorals.

He would give Allelujah a run for his money on how built he was. Sumeragi briefly wondered if they were sharing fashion tips. Their shirts were so skintight it left little to the imagination. She would have to tease it out Allelujah when he came aboard. Despite his gentle and quiet nature, he was still a man, and men had proven to Sumeragi to be as flawed and taken by a woman's wiles by the simplest of words, touch, and exposed skin.

If she remembered right from Veda's Level 2 information, Lasse was around her age. An old twenty-five. Just like her twenty-six. Next to him was Licthendal Tsery, or Lichty for short, the Ptolemaios' helmsman.

Lichty had a youthful face, almost too young, she thought briefly, with a messy set of brown bangs. He wore a blue zippered jacket over a green turtleneck and dark gray pants. He looked a bit nervous at the screen at the front. He would make small quips trying to get laughs, but that let Sumeragi know he was anxious of what the HRL would say.

At the front, floating in a red skintight bodysuit with an open back, tucked into a pair of green cargo shorts and white stockings that ended in black slippers, was Christina Sierra, the Ptolemaios' CIC and AIC. Light brown hair framed the sides of her face while her long hair was tied in a gray scrunchy. Her large hazel, doe-like eyes gave her the appearance of innocence.

They were honest, exactly like Christina. In Sumeragi's estimation, Christina was the most honest and blunt person on the ship, her feelings expressed fully through words without regret. If asked, she would deliver an honest opinion, but that didn't mean she ignored the feelings of another. She was young too, like the rest, around twenty-two, bound to them by obligation and loyalty.

Sumeragi adored the funny and vivacious young woman. Everything about her screamed energy and fun, from her clothing to her tastes in music. Sierra appealed to the senses and danced in the here and now, where every moment had to be lived and experienced. She was a self-contained ball of fun. Sumeragi was thankful for another woman like her onboard, sometimes it was too masculine between Lasse's one-track mind and workouts and Lichty's dull reminders that he needed a girlfriend as Sumeragi and Christina did not return any of his flirtations.

The last and youngest member of their group, floating silently in the middle, turquoise eyes locked on to the screen in front of Christina, was Feldt Grace. Stoic and introverted, she was the clear opposite of Christina, who the older woman loved like a younger sister. Feldt was logical and quiet, and she hid her feelings like the world was often too much or too dull. Perhaps, she was afraid to speak her mind and let people in.

Sumeragi shouldn't have been surprised that a girl as young as her would be an operator. Feldt was an extremely smart girl, but to put her into active duty made Sumeragi at times question Veda's reasons. No young girl should be doing this type of work. It made her grieve that Feldt had taken on the world instead of having a childhood.

Sumeragi read Feldt's files, and it was very brief, that Feldt's parents helped develop the second generation Gundams. She was the progeny of Celestial Being, and she very much was walking in her parents' footsteps. If her parents could see her, would they approve of Feldt's decision to continue their legacy, especially on the frontlines? She couldn't imagine any parent would give their child permission to willfully participate in these terroristic activities despite Celestial Being's goal of eradicating conflict.

Children shouldn't have to bear the pain and hurt of adults.

A strand of pink hair fell into her face and Feldt brushed a lock of it behind her ear. Her change from bright red to pink was a surprise, considering her introverted nature. Reluctantly, she said she was born in space and thus did not follow Earthling's rules of naturalness. That common hair types associated with earthlings did not represent how Spacenoids thought of themselves.

Sumeragi had to give the girl credit as the pink looked almost natural on her light skin as it wound down in swirling tresses that curled at her shoulders of her zippered yellow jumpsuit. Under the jumpsuit she wore a short purple shirt with a long trailing belt that settled on her waist. Her gray glove-covered hands were clasped. Feldt looked down into them with a thoughtful yet sad expression, and Sumeragi felt a pang in her heart.

There were no guarantees this would be an easy or a moral thing to do. We, as Celestial Being, bear this incredible weight of what we are doing to and for this world. The weight of our sins cannot be unburdened or washed so easily. And we're still not done causing grief and aches of many more people and families. I can only imagine how Feldt suffers now with this weight.

It was this weight, this heaviness, that had brought all of them to the conference room except one Gundam Meister. Tieria seemed to have other plans, but Sumeragi doubted that. He'd probably be watching from somewhere else, likely in the Veda terminal, for only he could access it. She was sure he'd come check on them despite his own anti-socialness that seemed to border on the obsessive.

The monitors showed what was to be the HRL's response to Celestial Being's interventions. She forecasted this would happen, that, from Celestial Being's interventions, the HRL would react. How quickly they're doing so was in response to the Gundams and their own cold war against the other solar factions. There would be no doubt that the world now believed Celestial Being's sincerity in ending conflict.

Here comes their anger.

Chairman Dai Minsheng of the HRL strode his way to the podium. He was a stout man with broad shoulders and stern features that were set in a determined if not intimidating glare. He had been elected with the completion of Heaven's Pillar and his bold stance in bringing the HRL into prominence and dominance. His approval ratings had taken a hit recently with the affair in Ceylon.

At the podium, he overlooked his crowd of dignitaries, of the press, of party officials, and military servicepersons. His glasses flashed fire when the glare of the sun overlooking the stadium bore over him.

His deep voice rumbled to a start, lashing immediately. "Good morning. I have come with sullen news; news that cannot be put aside and casted out. Our nation has suffered a tremendous loss.

"Because of Celestial Being's armed intervention on the island of Ceylon, and the ESUE's growing interference, their thirst for conquest, three hundred and thirty of our noble soldiers have lost their lives. Three hundred and thirty!" he repeated the number thunderously, his voice exploding over the microphone, ringing his rage. Sumeragi could feel the overwhelming silence settling into his audience.

The chairman did a sweeping glance of his audience before he continued. "Though they speak of eradicating warfare the actions taken by Celestial Being are nothing more than terrorism, throwing our nation into disorder. The ESUE too have become a thorn in our side, seeking, like Celestial Being, our downfall into chaos. Both organizations want to exploit and unravel all we have built and created. Military intelligence has found the ESUE are interfering in other world governments, sowing chaos and economic strife.

"When will their wickedness end?!" he shouted, and then paused as his dark eyes glared into the camera.

"My comrades, how could we forget the ESUE's South African War. The lives lost defending our interests and the indigenous people from the wrath of these miscreants. The loss of our civilians and soldiers in their push to control the continent. But we held firm, with the help of AEU and Union we halted their ravishing maw of conquest, cut their tongues, and barred them from taking over the AEU's orbital elevator on the eastern portion of the continent."

Sumeragi narrowed her eyes at this statement. Romancing war and your glories did not prove strong enough to save all those lives sacrificed, Mr. Chairman.

"It is time we renew our push.

"We, the Human Reform League, intend to take a firm stance and confront the ESUE and Celestial Being's terroristic actions. Should they enter our territory, we will introduce a military measures act. Whether it be ground or air or space or sea… Should they enter our territory, we will respond with military action. And to stop Celestial Being and the ESUE from continuing this violence…"

Sumeragi tuned his voice out as the crew became animated. It was Lichty who spoke first after shaking his head at most of the chairman's speech.

"They really came out swinging, huh. I don't think they like us," Lichty said with a smile. Sumeragi couldn't tell if he was being serious, scared, joking, or if it was an amalgamation of all three.

Lasse eyed the chairman heavily. "It's a natural reaction. We pose a threat to their military order. Of course, they're not going to like us."

Brown hair dancing in movement, Christina turned her head to Lichti and said, "But won't the Human Reform League strengthen their military because of us?"

The door opened and all eyes shot to the purple-haired man. Tieria had a serious glint in his eyes as his ruby gaze swept them fiercely, almost challengingly. "If that's what they say they'll do, then we will simply continue armed interventions."

Feldt looked down sadly. "Eradication of war."

Tieria looked to all of them, eyes determined, cutting them, slicing them if they should ever retreat or show weakness in front of him. For him, Celestial Being was everything. It was absolute law.

Tieria said, "Yes, that is Celestial Being's true goal. From here on we'll -"

Sumeragi interrupted with the shout of her voice, her arm motioning him to stop talking. She had returned one ear to the chairman's speech and caught something astonishing from his words. She nearly did a doubletake. She couldn't believe it!

"Wait! What did he just say?! Computer, playback 20 seconds," she ordered.

A confused if not puzzled atmosphere took on the crew. Christina and Feldt looked at each other, confusion written on their faces. Lasse had a hard look, Lichty was looking between all of them nervously, and Tieria, for once, looked surprised. He glided next to her and looked to the screen in the front.

The monitors rewound until it stopped, and the chairman continued, "…and to stop Celestial Being and the ESUE from continuing this violence, we have been in highly classified talks with the Union since the end of the ESUE War. I don't take this lightly, nor this nation, but by the end of the week, me and my delegation will be meeting with President Stegmeyer to release a joint statement to the world at the United Nation European Headquarters in Geneva. This means…"

"Impossible," Sumeragi whispered. How had they miss this? These level of meetings, of negotiations, should not have been happening at this stage. Veda did not predict this!

A multitude of questions burrowed into her head – How long were they negotiating for, when did the talks happen, was this the aftermath of Celestial Being's intervention or a catalyst from the ESUE?

And Tieria took offense, his voice saying her words aloud. "This was not supposed to happen this fast! Veda did not foresee this."

"Ms. Sumeragi," uttered Christina, floating next to her, worry expressed in her large eyes. "Wasn't this supposed to happen later, right?"

Sumeragi stared hard at her crew and then on the monitors of the Chairman Dai soaking the adulation of his audience. "It means the world is increasingly changing," Sumeragi said. "It means we cannot be off our game. Not for one second."

---

Momentary silence rocked the newsroom after the HRL's chairman declaration against the ESUE and Celestial Being. Only the soft clicks of mouses, the rustle of paper and the friction of feet against the carpet, echoed in the room, giving it the feeling of anticipation. To Duo, who was drifting over Kinue's right shoulder (Hayato had the left), his lips a line, he was slightly stunned as well. Or maybe baffled by the secret happenings of nations that he failed to predict.

He predicted something like this would happen, that the chairman would condemn the terroristic threats and ramp of military production, but he did not foresee the secret negotiations between the Union or, in their grandstanding, a unified message to the world coming this week. He should have seen this coming after the end of the South African Rebellion. For the HRL to mention them so openly, this was to be seen as a threat to Celestial Being and the ESUE.

Sheesh! This means trouble for the AEU as they might be goin' at it alone, he thought, gliding a hand through his bangs.

Unless the AEU was in there, somewhere, they were going to have an upward hill battle against the ESUE and Celestial Being. Not even their new Enact, as it seemed, with their latest addition of beam weaponry, could pose a threat against the Gundams. This shook Duo a bit as it left the nation vulnerable. Thoughts crawled to Heero. He hoped the guy wasn't getting his ass kicked in the desert. He'd be lucky to have the full support of the AEU. Moralia might be strengthening their ties with their parent nation because of this statement.

Don't do anything rash, buddy, Duo thought. You'll give the ESUE any excuse to sink their teeth into the AEU.

As if the collective met a truce inside the newsroom, chatter began ramping up, and it grew loud and feverish. Duo let himself speak, adding to the commotion of voices.

"Wooo we!" Duo blew, standing up and putting his hands behind his head. "Was not expectin' that!" he said to Hayato, who shook his head.

"The HRL and Union are serious," Hayato said, straightening. "You can't blame them, especially after all those deaths! Three hundred and thirty! This could go hot real fast!"

Hot? Duo snorted inwardly. It already was. They were in the oven, just waiting for temperatures to ramp up.

Kinue swirled in her seat to face them. She crossed her legs and bent forward, brown eyes earnest. She moved to say something and then stopped and looked at Duo. Her look was curious, perhaps measured.

"You knew this would happen."

It wasn't a question but a simple statement. Hayato gave a quizzical look to Duo while he merely shrugged at them both. "Yeah. I guess. Just I didn't have the foresight to see how deep those ties ran between the HRL and Union."

Kinue nodded her head ponderously. "The South African War. There were constant efforts to avoid friendly fire between the three nations as they tried to cover their interests. Each group had a sphere of influence – the Union and HRL – economic, and the AEU – socio-political and economic."

"Meaning it was in the Union's and HRL's interest to work together to weaken the AEU geopolitically," Duo posited.

"Yes, and seemed to have paid off with the ESUE exacerbation of funding these proxy wars, right? They're keeping the AEU in constant disorder," Hayato said.

"Sounds terrible to be an AEU member," Duo smiled. "I wouldn't want to be in their shoes now, knowing they have to contest with the ESUE all alone and Celestial Being's intervention. They're gonna get their asses kicked."

"But what about Celestial Being?" Hayato asked, looking between the two.

"Celestial Being will act on all fronts," said Duo. "The HRL and Union will work together on missions while ramping up their military. The AEU will be forced into a corner, and ultimately will build up theirs as well, with fear of an attack from the ESUE or the saber rattling from the Union-HRL military exercises."

Duo shook his head softly. "Celestial Being was the catalyst against ESUE machinations, and now it will be spilling out in the open," Duo remarked. "Celestial Being's work is going to get busy with two nations on the verge of cooperation. The ESUE will watch what happens before they act."

"Celestial Being. Aeolia Schenburg, did you predict this?" Kinue questioned. The question seemed more for herself as she gently shook her head.

"Probably predicted shit," came Duo. He found himself thoughtlessly speaking his thoughts aloud. He clamped his mouth shut when two pairs of eyes rounded on him.

"What was that, Duo?" Kinue asked.

"Me and my big mouth," he muttered inaudibly. "Whoops! What I meant to say was –"

He cut off when a voice, louder than the room's, shouted, "It's go time! Get on it! We need this up in five minutes! Get on this now! Duo!"

The three turned to find the chief out of his office, arms crossed, glaring down from the elevated platform near his office door.

Duo looked up to him, openly smiling. "Yeah!"

"Get in my office!" and with that he marched into his office and closed his door.

Duo gave his door an odd look, furrowing his brow and twisting his lips. Was he in trouble or something? He didn't remember doing anything wrong recently. The chief didn't look particularly happy.

"What was that about?" Kinue asked. "You didn't do something illegal again?"

"Again?" asked Hayato, perking up, his head rising like a ferret looking out of a hole when it detected something odd.

"What did he do last time?" There was an eagerness that shined in Hayato's brown eyes that Duo did not like. He needed to shut this down.

"Nothing you need to know about," Duo dismissed. Although Duo had the decency to look abashed. He felt his cheeks burn.

Kinue smiled as she leaned against her chair and crossed her legs. She turned her head to Hayato, her lips forming a sly smile. "You don't know? I thought you would have known, but I guess you weren't here when the chief dressed down Duo after he heard – and this was in passing with me – he hacked into the AEU military database."

Hayato rounded on Duo so quickly he thought he saw an afterimage. "Duo! Why in the world would you do that?!"

"It was an accident," I let slip because I thought I was alone, he left the rest unsaid. "I won't do it again!" Well, not in a place with people, he thought. He knew he should have been more careful, but how was he to know they'd sneak in like that?

The incident happened three months ago. It had to have been past one a.m. that day, and he thought he was alone in the newsroom. He wanted to do some digging on any AEU military placement. It was how he had noticed the buildup of military advisors and mobile suit sales to the North African bloc. He casually let something slip from his mouth – "The AEU's military digital security was a breeze to get into." -, not noticing Kinue had come back into the office and loudly repeated what he had said. And then, to his displeasure, the chief had heard in passing and erupted. The chief wasn't as worse as Une, but he still liked his job.

Kinue laughed lightly. "People don't hack into things by accident, Duo. You had full knowledge and control of the situation." She wagged her finger at him. He wanted to bite it.

"What were you looking for anyways?" Hayato asked, curiously.

"Stuff," Duo replied aloofly. He threw a smirk at Hayato who he knew would be frustrated by the lack of an answer.

Kinue shook her head and repeated what he said. "The kind of stuff that would get him extradited to AEU and imprisoned for ten years."

Moving on to the next subject as he saw Hayato's mouth open, Duo grinned at them and said, "Enough of that. I need to get to the chief's office. Perhaps he considered my next assignment in the Sahel!"

Kinue and Hayato didn't return a grin. They appeared more disheartened if not solemn at the prospect of him going into the Sahel. Duo gave them a curious look. Those faces won't do.

Duo shook his head. He placed his hands on his hips. "What's with those looks? Come on now, y'all know we need a good reporter covering this and getting' in the shit."

"I can only speak for myself, though Kinue agrees with me, but that assignment is something you shouldn't be covering," Hayato called back, crossing his arms. He seemed overprotective in this as he bore down over him.

Duo looked to Kinue whose expression wasn't precisely mirroring Hayato, but her concerned look and tight expression emoted more to him than Hayato's overexaggerated posture. When Duo's eyes hardened, Kinue then sighed and threaded a few fingers through her hair.

"Duo, can you at least reconsider? It's called the Graveyard of Journalists for a reason."

"I'll reconsider if you go on a date with me," Duo said pointedly.

Kinue scowled. "You know that's not fair, Duo. Be reasonable."

He had been plenty reasonable enough if he had to say so. Duo smirked which caused her to scowl even further. "I am. On getting this assignment."

With that, he strode to the chief's office door. He loved Kinue and Hayato dearly but sometimes they could be overprotective. It almost made him feel cuddly inside like holding a plush bunny. Duo had to remember that they did not know part of his real self; the violent, ruthless, and intrepid guerilla warfighter.

If he had to, they would never know unless he was feeling kind of enough down the years. They wouldn't be able to fathom that he was from another world and had put himself since the age of fifteen in harm's way. They could understand him being a child soldier, but not to the extent that he purposely put himself in danger, been beaten near death, held captive, been beaten in captivity again, and saved the world.

Pushing those thoughts away, he made it to the wooden door frame. The window that overlooked the newsroom had its blinds closed. Duo's lips pulled to the side. He had a bad feeling about this meeting. Knocking on the door twice, he entered the room.

The chief's room was a quaint four-walled room. On the right side of the room lay a shelf covered with books, each organized alphabetically. Sometimes the chief would let him borrow a couple to, as he said, "improve his journalistic voice." He would quiz Duo on them, to make sure he had read them, and Duo would surprise him with his analysis. Duo thought the chief at times didn't believe he had a gifted person as him in the room. Duo in return would puff his chest up and joke about it.

At the end of the room was the chief, huddled over his laptop, his glasses reflecting the blue tint of his screen. He looked up and his face was annoyed. "About time you came in. I thought I'd might have to manhandle you into here."

Duo simply smirked. "So, what's the deal chief? Did you consider my assignment?" Duo questioned. "I know it's a dangerous gig, but don't worry. I've got my bases covered. I could leave now if you need me to."

The chief tilted his head to the side a bit. He didn't say anything for a moment. "Duo, how old are you?"

Seeing immediately to where this was going, Duo dismissed it. "Why does that matter?"

The chief blinked rapidly. "It matters a great deal sending a reckless and an intrepid seventeen-year-old to his death. I'm not calloused to think that your life is expendable for ratings and the news, Duo."

Duo rolled his eyes. The nerve of this stubborn man. "Like that mattered at La Tour, chief. So, what, you not gonna send me because of my age? Ya know we need reporters down there. From my source, it's gettin' intense. We gotta cover all angles."

"Which is more the reason not to send you! It's more than your age Duo, and you know it. Your resume is impressive, but I'm still responsible for sending teens like you into danger. You're not seasoned enough. Not with how so many reporters have died down there. What would your parents think if they knew their only child died and he, by my poor judgement, met them in the afterlife."

Duo blinked for a second. That was a low blow. He immediately made to comment but didn't. He turned to the door and scratched the back of his head. This man was making the most of this. This was absolutely, hair-yanking, eye-gouging, frustrating!

"Their dead! Why the hell would they care. Like they would give a damn," Duo said, frustration leaking in his tone. "Besides, I'm pretty sure they'd be proud how I'm living my life. Well, the latter part of my life."

No need to mention the former, he thought. Duo did suspect if his parents or any parental figures were alive, they'd be horrified, saddened, and disappointed with how he had to survive on the streets of C-205 alone until he had found his first friend, Solo.

"Incorrigible, completely damn stubborn you are. I'm not sending you there and that's final, Maxwell." The chief released a sigh and then pointed at him. "For as long as you work here, I'll be giving and confirming the assignments. Understood? Or you can find another job."

Duo turned back to the door and grumbled. "Oh, now he's giving ultimatums. Some hotshot he is, sitting behind a desk and drowning in paperwork. Who does he think he is, knowing about the dangers in war? I don't mean to brag, but I'm one of the best he's got here. What kind of chief doesn't utilize all his resources and assets?"

"Duo!" called the chief.

Duo rounded on him, seeing his annoyed expression, and called with some snark, "What? Did you change your mind? Because if not, I'm gonna go spend my time doin' something worthwhile."

The chief gave him a critical look. "I talked with our international foreign correspondent, Mari Da Costa. She's looking for an extra hand to cover the Taribian anti-Union movement. I think you'll be a great fit for the job."

Duo's mouth dropped. Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no! Duo simply refused to work with her. Mari Da Costa was a terrific reporter, capable and fearless, yes, but she was a hard ass, the kind of person who did things her way. She rode her crew hard and treated them like luggage. Perhaps all that notoriety had gone to her head.

"I'm a war and mobile suit journalist - those things apply to the battlefield, not protest movements, chief."

The chief scoffed in return. "You're a journalist first and foremost. You can cover anything. Otherwise, you can find yourself another job, right? Your resume is good for that. Going to make Kinue sad, though. She and Hayato have taken a liking to you, kid."

"Ya know what?!" Energy fueling him he pointed at the chief, who had furrowed his brow, looking ready to take the heat, and then brought his fingers into his sprawl of bangs. "Fine! Have it your way. Just don' be crawlin' back when things go wrong, pretending you're sorry. I don't wanna hear that from you!"

The chief smirked. There was victory shining in his eyes and Duo wanted to extinguish it. "Good. You leave in three hours. I hoped that you're packed."

The chief typed into his laptop. "Check your phone. I sent your ticket. Confirm that you received it."

Duo took out his phone and checked his email. Not a second later, the ticket popped in his inbox. "It's confirmed," he said resignedly.

"Good. Safe travels, Maxwell."

Duo almost blew up at him but sighed and quickly opened and walked out the door. He rubbed his head. "Jeez. Triple teamed in sight." He looked up and gazed across the newsroom and found two curious heads looking his way. They were looking at him but were not making eye contact. As if they were… He narrowed his eyes.

"I still got some time to lay one on them," Duo muttered.

He glared at them. "Hey – you two! Yeah, I'm calling you! Don't hide your faces now!"

Hayato and Kinue seemed to shrink in their seats the closer he got to them. When he stopped in front of them, arms crossed, he gave them a withering glare that would have made Heero proud. He held that glare for another second or two and then frowned.

Then, Duo lifted an eyebrow. Anger called to him, and he knew it was irrational, but nobody dictated where and what he could and couldn't do. "So, you two are against this, huh?" He edged his voice into a whisper.

"I'm sorry to say this but listen up – I've been on my own for a while. Longer than both of you have. I know how to handle myself in a firefight or mobile suit combat. Or whatever the situation calls for."

"And that's what we're saying! Duo, you're seventeen! Damn it! You shouldn't be able to do this unless…" Hayato trailed off, his eyes seemed to gleam something, and Duo knew where it came from. He wouldn't let him air his thought out, not in a room crowded by people.

"So what?" Duo spoke loudly. "I am who I am." Duo pointed to himself and then cut the air with his hand.

"I ain't gonna change for that or you! So, next time you get in your head to try and dictate what I can or can't do – don't!"

Duo placed his hands on his hips. "Guess what? I'm going to the Republic of Taribia! Oh, the-not-so-dangerous place." He then smiled at them. His smile seemed to make them warier. "I might just get my wish. See ya later! I gotta plane to catch in three hours."

Before they had a chance to talk, to utter one word of disagreement or change their look of surprise, he had gathered his belongings and gave them a backwards wave.

---

The hallowed halls of the Human Reform League Oint Headquarters in Beijing, China, stood as utilitarian as Sergei remembered, lacking the festivity of what was known to the AEU and perhaps the Union. The gleaming marble floor reflected the low golden light of the hanging chandeliers. It reminded Sergei of low burning fire, and it seemed to temper hearts of the bold and intrepid, rein them to servile if not respectful humbleness.

The white walls and beam structures were dim, almost intimidating, and they seemed, in their long wideness, to go on forever into the dark with its crimson, blue trim tongue of carpet. They were conspiratorial, and they all seemed to be in agreeance as they watched from everywhere and nowhere within the halls. They seemed to whisper to him that they were watching, as black silhouettes from green uniformed people glided against their walls like phantoms, swaying, moving, and still.

Walking through the halls, his booted heels clicking, Sergei found the theme dreadfully dreary. Despite the HRL flags silently waving from their holders that summoned patriotism every twenty feet, Sergei found himself far removed from it. He was not a man of opulence; he had a certain disdain for men who bathe in their wealth and abused and lorded their power over the weak.

At forty-three, he could say he had seen his share of hardship and brutality. He was not like the doe-eyed, ever-eager-to-a-fault, fearless cadets who wanted to throw themselves into the tiger's cage to prove their mettle or seek another medal to decorate his chest. The long-jagged scar over his right eye was his testament to his country.

It also told of his mortality.

It reminded Sergei of his pragmatism. He would not be fooled, underestimate, or overestimate. The scar on his face was a painful reminder of his youth, that he too was foolish and rushed into combat, without fully knowing the enemy's potential. He had lacked visual certainty and fell into pride. Fortunately, the mission had succeeded despite his injury, but he would not ignore it again, no matter the showers of praise he had received from the upper echelon of the military.

Sergei's pride had transformed. It wasn't a trivial thing born of material or war exploits (and there were many) but by how much he lost and how much he protected. He knew the dangers of his job, and he had lost more than he would care for, but resolutely, and stoically, he bore his burdens on his heavy broad shoulders, quietly and alone.

Holly.

The name of his wife was a sweet kiss to his mind as he heard his voice whisper her name. His tongue felt dry. Holly's name was loving and bitter as it echoed in his mind. He kept his wife's name close to heart as he kept that jagged scar across his face. He could still see her warm and welcoming smile, her compassionate and dutiful brown eyes, and how she…

Why am I thinking of her now? Sergei frowned. There wasn't a day that he thought of her. But why now?

Coming to a crossroad, he looked to his right. Two guards, immovable like statues, stared down at him from the door. He went up to the door and saluted. "Lieutenant Colonel Sergei Smirnov reporting to see Oint Headquarters Commander Kim Chang-Min."

The men saluted and, in turn, one touched the terminal to his left and repeated what he had said. Sergei heard an "enter" from the terminal and the guards opened the door. Sergei made his way through the interim room where another two sets of guards opened the door to a wide room of Commander Kim.

It was a sea of red carpet below a wide and long, three-walled rectangular windows of blue sky. The wide room was shaped in a square with a rectangular, burnished wooden Katsura desk placed near the door, facing the windows. Commander Kim sat behind it. Sergei timed his steps. His boots clicked as he strode past the table, one step from it and then turned and saluted, his boots clicking, his fingers as one and his palm out by his temple.

"Commander Kim, Lieutenant Colonel Sergei Smirnov reporting in, sir."

Kim, whose unflappable face was stern and resolute, as one long brown strand fell into his face, nodded and saluted. "At ease, Lieutenant Colonel. Let's cut to the chase."

Commander Kim laced his fingers and rested them under his chin. His face relaxed; a friendly token granted occasionally between friends than the wall of impassiveness reserved for the military. They had met in their youth, Sergei being the older and more experienced soldier and Kim the cadet. Kim strove to be a mobile suit pilot just like Sergei but found his capabilities lied more in structure and bureaucracy.

"So, how was it, Lieutenant Colonel? You traded blows with that Gundam, right? Let me hear your frank opinion."

Sergei took on a solemn and thoughtful expression. "Yes, sir. In my personal opinion, I do not believe a mobile suit exists anywhere in this world that can stand up to a Gundam. I do believe the ESUE with their Serpent Customs can put up a decent fight, but still be destroyed by the Gundam's versatility and maneuverability.

"But I'm hesitant to include the Virgo IIIs. How they perform in space is comparatively better than on Earth, where they can exceed a human g-force threshold. It would make an intense and interesting battle."

Commander Kim grimaced. He didn't look surprised. "Is its performance that good?"

"That's just my personal opinion," came Sergei's response.

Commander Kim nodded slightly, then his face became stern, and Sergei straightened. It was back to business. "Then, it was worth calling you out here. I'm sure you heard of the chairman's speech."

"This is about negotiations with the Union," Sergei said.

Commander Kim confirmed when he said, "Exactly. I'll tell you in depth what this means. The chairman and the Union are going to reveal joint military cooperation between our nations. We've been building ties since the end of the ESUE War. It has taken longer than expected but with Celestial Being's interference, we needed to expedite the process."

Sergei nodded. It was as he thought. "So, it is true. Is that why the Union has been in our airspace as of late. There's been a report of a Union transport confronting Celestial Being in the South China Sea."

"Correct, Lieutenant Colonel. The HRL has approved Union sweeps and vice versa with us for the Union. This is just the surface. We are building a coalition against the Celestial Being and more importantly, the ESUE.

"We offered, both the Union and HRL, the same token to the AEU despite their black markets sales to tinpot nations that seek to destroy us. In their arrogance, they refused our offer."

Sergei's brow rose imperceptibly. "Why would they choose to refuse?"

Kim didn't say a thing for a moment, leaving the question in the air. When he spoke, anger tremored underneath. "Humiliation and arrogance. The Europeans and Africans were humiliated in the last war against the ESUE. We all were. But this humiliation, I gather, stems from their pride. We know, Lieutenant Colonel, that blind pride can lead to destruction."

"They want to prove to the world they are still a supranational power despite their growing decline," Sergei finished.

A nation seeking to express themselves through only their past accomplishments and deep pockets would only tighten the noose that they wrapped around their own necks. Or, Sergei thought morbidly, the one their enemy would wrap around them with their help. For the AEU, Sergei could only shake his head at their motivation. It seemed some nations could never rise above their failures.

"Correct," Kim affirmed. "The ESUE and Celestial Being will be their end."

Kim's darker eyes seemed to burn now. "You've been to Ceylon. I'm sure you are aware the situation there."

Sergei nodded affirmatively. "Yes. We're rebuilding our forces but the ESUE's generous advisory and additional troops had made it past our frontline troops, leading to the capture of the Lion's Rock Base. Celestial Being had done away with it and our forces."

"It's more than that, Lieutenant Colonel. Satellite pictures has led us to believe they had shipped mobile dolls, the Virgo IIIs, to the battlefield. The Gundam had destroyed them in their second incursion on the Ruwanwelisaya Base before they were operational. If they were to deploy those monsters, the sheer loss of our troops would have been devastating in maintaining peace on the island and our geopolitical gains within the region."

"Virgo IIIs in Ceylon… are they trying to escalate a war?"

Sergei held solid contempt for those monstrosities. They made war a game, and he wouldn't put it past the ESUE to treat it as such. They were warmongers, after all. His first encounter with a Virgo had been disastrous. It had been in Tanzania when those war machines had confronted them on a patrol.

Sergei had never experienced such raw and accurate fire power that could easily blaze through a mobile suit. Their shields were impregnable, and he had realized how much trouble he was in if he did not call a tactical retreat. They were what HRL feared the most as they did, still, did not have the fire power to defeat them. He had learned early on if they could blind side them, ambush them, and engage them in close-quartered combat, they had a fighting chance. Still, their losses were phenomenal.

Kim nodded. "We suspect so. Although, time will tell. But these recent exacerbations are an increasingly concern for us. We cannot deny them any longer. You know how difficult they were to defeat in the last war. Against our forces now, as they are, we don't stand a chance. On a tactical and energy scale.

"Which brings us back to the Union. By building a coalition, we hope to enforce military R&D departments in a joint collaboration to receive efficient energy weapons to combat the ESUE menace. In this collaboration, we are putting forth elite teams to combat ESUE-influenced forces but also, to work in conjunction or solo with the Union. You have a new mission.

"Lieutenant Colonel, acquire a Gundam."

"Yes, sir," Sergei said at once.

"I am forming an elite unit for this purpose. This force will work with the Union's elite units from MSWAD's Anti-Gundam Investigative Unit and Special Operations Command. You will answer to me and the joint top Union commander of these elite forces, General Darren Jones. I'll leave the selection of personnel to you, but there's one soldier I'll like to entrust with you."

Commander Kim turned to the door. "Come in."

The doors swung open, revealing a young girl with long white hair that streamed down her green uniform. She walked forward and saluted. Sergei could tell by her walk, her sharp salute, and her cold and empty golden eyes she was born from the military. There was no sense of emotion on her pale face.

Everything was formal, disciplined, from how she arranged her hair, to her perfect posture, and the distinct lack of wrinkles on her uniform. Nothing was out of place. Or, if Sergei had to put it clearly, as this made him feel uncertain, everything was out of place. There was a distinct lack of pride or joy or confidence. Yes, he could see surety, but confidence came from one's abilities and self-worth, and there was nothing there.

She looks far too young for this.

"Excuse me. I am Lieutenant Soma Peries, Super Soldier Number One of the Super-Human Institute Technical Research Center," she announced coolly.

Frowning in surprise, Sergei turned to Commander Kim. This couldn't be right. "Super-Human Institute?" he asked Kim.

He had heard the project had been discontinued after its abuses were made public. Abuses on children bordered if not exceeded torture. Children as young as three were gathered and tested and if they were found "useful" they would be slotted for the Super-Human Institute. The children that were "irrelevant" were made obsolete.

To continue such a terrible project… the madness it would spark. Has my country no decency to human life?

Looking at her, Sergei couldn't but be reminded how the youth of children were taken for granted. How war eradicated their innocence. She has to be Andrei's age, he thought concernedly, thinking of his son. He had heard he had left the house when he turned eighteen. He still felt pained for not being there for him as his military job demanded more from him than being a father.

When Holly had died, he could not bear to look at his son. He had looked so much like her that he was haunted by it. He chose to remain on duty, hoping to find relief in his work. It kept him busy, but his thoughts did meander, and they did stick on things that plagued him the most.

Sergei turned to look at the commander. "Sir, I thought that project was…"

Commander Kim interrupted him as if knowing his hesitation, his eyes cutting and stated, much to Sergei's displeasure, "Apparently, it was continued in secret. The higher-ups believe that it will be our trump card against the Gundams."

"As of today, I have been assigned to serve in your elite unit, Lieutenant Colonel. Pleased to meet you," Soma said.

Sergei looked at her rather sadly and murmured, "You are much too young for this."

Soma's eyes held nothing but a goal, a mission, and it made Sergei quite uncomfortable to be looking into a child's eyes with such intensity. There was no warmth there. She must have been trained rigorously – too rigorously. Nothing human – or human emotions – was in that look. He spotted fealty to her duty, and that seemed to bring another sharp pain as it reminded Sergei of himself.

---

Quatre stood on the edge of a worn, brown brick-laid ledge overlooking the shimmering blue of the Gulf of Oman. His arms were outstretched, turquoise eyes wide in wonder and his opened dark blue suit jacket whipped as a gusty and salty sea wind past. The waves crested and lapped against the brick walls and splashed upward into his face. He gave a grin, enjoying the cool sensation as he scouted diverse and various ships making birth or leaving port. A flock of white seagulls soared high above and round the large tanker ships, their cries echoing with the undulation of the sea.

They were singing in harmony.

He almost forgot how naturally beautiful the Earth was. How did I miss this for so long? he thought. The sight was spectacular. This reminder seemed to spur the teen on as his gaze wandered to drifting fishing vessels and swooping seagulls diving into depths of dark blue and then reappearing with a beak full of fish.

"I better make the most of this sight," he said watching golden sun rays reflect off the see in blinding light. It nearly blinded him for a moment before he moved his eyes further into the sea.

He wouldn't be here for long though, less he got too attached to his surroundings. For Quatre, it was easy to become attached as his love for the environment, accompanying his ardent need to see the Earth less polluted, had been the start of his fight for a cleaner future. Fighting in the war against OZ and the Romefeller Foundation on Earth he had noticed the pockets of scarred earth unable to heal, large swaths of missing trees, sporadic metal of doomed ships and mobile suits washed ashore like shells. The scenes were terrible to see and deeply hurt his heart.

Earth was the center of human life. Humans had now reached the stars, but they still polluted their hearts and their environments with their recklessness.

Their car to Sarbaz was running a bit late so he had time to relax in Chabahar. It never seemed he had much time to begin with. Always on the move, from Operation Meteor to his family's business and now organizing the resistance movement to the ESUE, there was something that grabbed his attention that he sometimes forgot to live in the moment.

He had a fleeting thought of being on a beach in Australia, the waning sun illuminating the sea like daytime stars that contrasted against his angst and relief. Had it only been two years? Despite he and Heero being on the run from the execution orders of the Romefeller Foundation, he had found respite, (or was it resolve?) in the kindness of his capturers, the reluctant Count Townsend, and the amiable dogs of theirs.

It was this personal kindness, one that strangers were forced into, despite their grave reluctance, that gave him strength. That kindness was a flame, a hot one, but a small one, and its tongue needed the oxygen of those that can keep it burning.

After a moment he checked his watch. It was almost 8:05 a.m. A distinct thunderous roar came from above. Quatre only had to look up to see a ginormous hull and wings of a passenger plane flying over, cutting the blue sky. He watched it gain altitude until it was a microscopic speck, a black dot that faded into blue.

He turned his gaze back to the glimmering sea but soon was obscured by vast length of light gray. Quatre looked up to an enormous destroyer skulking by, commanding the sea by size and its sheer presence. Its black CIWs glinted intimidatingly as it rotated this way and that. Quatre watched it drift off, sailing towards the elongated body of the cruiser.

For a small port Quatre noticed, its navy presence seemed substantial if not out of the norm. Besides the cruiser and lone destroyer, a frigate trailed behind, treading through and breaking water. Are they pressured by the ESUE? he thought curiously. The ESUE had control of Pakistan and Turkmenistan and their naval ports. It would be deterrence for any enemy vessel or smuggler to invade.

As he ruminated a voice called behind him. He turned to find Abdul waving for him from a distance. He stood next to a sand-color Humvee in the middle of two more with Rashid and seemed to be holding something in his hand. There was another man there with a black rifle in a low carry position. Quatre jumped down from the ledge and walked towards them. The closer he got to the group, he noticed the thing in Abdul's hand was a black bulletproof vest. Both Abdul and Rashid were wearing them.

Quatre would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. Rashid and Abdul looked right at home, a sharp contrast for the businessmen they were presented as they wore the heavy armor like it was another piece of clothing. Rashid must have been missing his time as head of the Maganac Corps.

Quatre would have thought Rashid reluctant to shoulder the role as the figurehead of the Royal Yasmin as he commanded the corps of his 40-man militia, but he seemed to take on this new role just as smoothly as water taking shape into a container. The attributes of leadership, even in foreign circumstances, were necessary in commanding business organizations just like militias.

Reaching the group at the Humvee, Abdul handed the Kevlar vest to him. The material was firm and there was a significant weight to it as it sank in his grip. It was quite heavy.

"Saud. This is Captain Solrab Gul, the head our security force into Sarbaz," Rashid introduced.

Captain Gull gave him a curious if not pitiable look. His large, hooked nose made his beady black eyes intense. With a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as smoke poured from the smoldering tip, the man looked bored. He was probably thinking he was some neophyte, fearful of weapons, and he proved Quatre right when he said, "Boy. You know how to put that on?"

Quatre gave him an affirming nod. "Of course. This isn't my first time in a Kevlar vest." Quatre lifted it up and pushed it down over his upper body. It had been a while since he wore one. However, he remembered the lessons from his youth with the Maganac Corps and how they had trained him for these types of situations.

The man gave raised his brow and then shrugged, giving an indifferent look. He squashed his cigarette against the door of the Humvee and climbed in the passenger seat. Rashid opened the door for the backseat passengers and Quatre climbed in the middle. There were three helmets sitting on their seats.

The man turned behind him and said, "Put those on. If we encounter IEDs, you need to have those on in case we tip over. Can't have you injured." Taking the middle, Quatre placed the helmet over his head. He spotted Abdul giving him a smirk behind his sunglasses, and Quatre couldn't help but return it. This felt too much like the old times.

When they were situated, he noticed the man bang the side door interior. It seemed to be the signal as the driver sped on the road.

It took them a matter of minutes before they were out of Chabahar and on the road to Sarbaz on Highway 95. Great deserts stretched on, bordered by rugged mountains made as if Allah had raked his fingers through the earth and dragged them a good distance. Everything was arid and terribly dry.

Despite rough terrain, Quatre loved it. He had never been to this part of the Middle East region. He had stayed within Saudi Arabia and North Africa when he had ventured down to Earth. This was special to him. Something green caught his eyes.

He turned them on a closing green billboard. It was one of Princess Marina, her smile warm and her out reached. The billboard and her face were marred by thick black scrawl. He couldn't read Farci, but it did look derogatory.

"It says 'The rose rebirth will cleanse our country. Glory to Hizb Laleh Qarmaz," announced the captain. "I can tell by the confusion on your face." He had turned his eye on Quatre for a moment as they passed by the billboard.

"Is that common?" Rashid asked, stroking his beard.

Captain Gul gave him a listless look. "Very common, yes. In this region, you foreigners are not welcomed. You're seen as intrusive, hence the need for this entourage."

"Do you find us an inconvenience?" Quatre asked.

Captain Gul gave him a piercing stare. His expression was indecipherable. "I'd rather not say my thoughts. Just you know you'll be looked at critically here."

It was a diplomatic answer, and Quatre let it go. He'd rather not be too pushy in case of annoying the man. He did not seem too fond of them. They traveled for a few more hours making little conversation. A droplet of sweat rolled down Quatre's face and splashed on his pants, joining one of many wet spots. Inside the Humvee, it was hot as the heat smothered against Quatre's skin. He licked his parched lips as the heat drained and dried all moisture.

Luckily, as if on a whim, the captain shared some water from a cooler underneath his feet. At least he was kind enough to offer some water, Quatre gratefully thought.

A few hours had past when Quatre had noticed the change of his countenance in his driver and in Captain Gul. They seemed to be more animated, talking to each other in Farsi. Judging by Gul's body language he seemed to be ordering something of the driver and sweeping his hands across the windshield. He kept pointing to the sides of the roads. He picked up the radio microphone and mentioned something.

Captain Gul turned his head to them. "We just crossed Firuzabad. I need you to –!"

Quatre felt the world stop. A loud and deafening boom tore into the Humvee, cutting off the captain's words. Rocks pummeled into the door, banging like a storm and a hurricane of dust and rock crashed into them. The Humvee shook violently and tossed Quatre this way and that. Quatre felt his head being ducked down, and a body covering over his. There was a moment he feared they had been hit but assessing himself and listening, it seemed he was far off.

"Damn it." Captain Gul turned his head back. "Are we injured?"

When the shakes from the Humvee subsided, Quatre felt the body stiffen and then lift. He was able to raise his head up, and Abdul looked down on him in concern. "You all right there, Qua–Saud?"

"I'm good here, thanks," said Quatre. "And you?"

"Relieved," Abdul said, smiling. He looked towards Rashid who was looking out the window. "Rashid, you good?"

Rashid nodded and looked towards the captain. "An IED?"

"What do you think it was, fireworks?" called the driver sarcastically.

"Stay calm, Ahmed," Captain Gul pacified with his hand squeezing his shoulder. Captain Gul then picked up his radio mic and said something into it. Quatre believed he was checking the state of his fellow men and issuing orders. His tight brow seemed to fall to almost relief as alertness overtook his expression.

"We're going to conduct security. Stay in the car and keep your heads down. Ahmed, you know what to do."

Ahmed nodded and rolled down his window and positioned his rifle outside. Taking his own rifle, the captain opened his door. Quatre felt his stomach turn as he saw a large crater three meters from the side of the road. It had caved in part of the road and smoldered ominously. The captain closed the door and moved to the front of the car and took a knee. He heard the voices from the people in the lead Humvee gather and circle around the captain.

Quatre looked out the window on his right, wishing he had a weapon next to him. Maybe then he wouldn't feel as useless being trapped in this metal contraption. Playing the role of a young assistant had its drawbacks, and he inwardly scowled at his ineptness. For a working pacificist, he certainly was doing a good job at it.

It did not go by him if any of the security forces had died, it would be because of him. Guilt washed over him. He should have planned better. He knew this could happen! He knew –

A light thump whammed on his helmet and tilted it a little to the side. The thump broke his train of thoughts, and he looked through his bangs to Abdul.

"None of that, Saud." Abdul must had read his expression. "Don't go blaming yourself for things you could not prepare for. Act in the moment, not after it."

Receiving a nod, Abdul patted Quatre's helmet again and turned to the left window. Five minutes strolled by in the highly tense atmosphere, and no sounds of gunfire or retaliatory fire could be heard. Quatre wondered was this by happenstance, or was this a ploy?

At the end of the tenth minute, the captain came around and opened his passenger door. He gave a rough sigh and looked back to them. "We received minor damage to the Humvee - dents and scratches. No major problem. We'll be on the move as soon as the lead Humvee goes forward. It looks like it was a remote controlled IED. Since there was no further action, they'll probably be watching us."

The captain then took out a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered one to Rashid, Quatre, and Abdul. Rashid took one and Quatre and Abdul waved it away. Quatre wasn't much on smoking and usually avoided it when he could. He knew Abdul delighted in it from time to time, but he seemed distracted as his gaze fell into his window.

When the lead Humvee drove, they followed close behind. The smell of cigarette smoke didn't lessen the tension inside the vehicle.

The explosion had seemed to have awakened every nerve. It awakened everyone's mortality. Quatre realized they were really close to death. Just a few lucky feet away and boom! They would have been up in flames.

A flash of limbs and human remains spread across the desert came to his mind's eye. He shivered at the thought. It wasn't like the first time he had saw something as grisly as dead people. He had been, at one time, the cause of many deaths.

It would be another hour when they came upon the outskirts of Sarbaz. The desert-colored city, plentiful with thick green vegetation, was nestled in a valley surrounded by vast, unyielding mountain ranges. They found housing high on the mountains and dropped to the floor of the valley. Large farmland spread before the city in fields upon fields of crops where a languid river purchased land below the opposite side of the river. Large shadows rolled across the city, as its mountainous defenders leered over it.

Quatre's heartbeat beat faster. There something dangerous in the air he could feel.

Instead of going straight into the city, they traveled along its outskirts for ten minutes until they reached the solar generator facility. They stopped at the entrance or would have been the entrance had it not been crumbled into rubble. The captain looked outside for a moment and then opened his door.

Another man wearing an orange uniform came from the entrance. He looked to be armed and Quatre surmise he was from the local police. The two talked for a while. Captain Gul pointed to the Humvees and that seemed to make the man's face twitch as he glared at it. He then said something and nodded his head.

Captain Gul came and then opened Rashid's door. "Out. We must make this quick. The man I spoke with was from the local police. He says this place is still dangerous. They get sporadic gunfire now and then."

"We understand," said Rashid. "But we still have to inspect the facility."

The captain said nothing but looked distressed. His eyes certainly said as much: the whites of his eyes seemed to be straining from their sockets, red veins stretched and zigzagged across the white, glossy surface. Abdul patted Quatre on the shoulder as Rashid and Abdul walked into the facility.

What they came upon was shocking. The damage was worse than expected. Bullet holes riddled the walls and casings cluttered the floor. There looked to be blood on the walls, too. Quatre slowly made his way around the facility.

This was simply unacceptable! His mind went straight to his workers, and he knew he would have to pay them a visit when he could at the local hospital. As he finished his tour, he noted with relief none of the generators looked to be damaged. They could still help with the city.

As he made it to the front, he met Rachid and Abdul. Their faces were grim but determined. "How does it look inside?"

"There were some damages to the interior from rocket propelled grenades. The damages didn't make it into the control room where everything looked fully operational. We just need the manpower to make sure this doesn't happen again."

Quatre told them of the generators. "I deducted as much," Rashid said.

"You seem to be in bad shape here," called a male voice.

The group turned to a man with flowing crimson hair that looked like blood. Stubborn stubble painted his face in a goatee as a chin beard fell to his upper neck. His amber eyes studied them carefully.

"Hold it! Who are you?" Gul ordered, bringing his weapon and baring it on the red-headed man. More weapons flashed in the air, trained on the man.

The man placed his hands up and he seemed wary, if not fearful of them. "I mean no harm. My name is Aarzam, and I'm a local dentist. I just came to see if the generators are still working. My family depends on these to survive, and my business needs the energy. It's been hard living without them."

"It looks to be in working order. We'll be turning it on," Rashid said. "No need to worry yourself, Mr. Aarzam. We officials of the Royal Yasmin will make this possible."

Aarzam sighed and his hand leapt to his heart. "Thank Allah. We weren't too sure if we had enough electricity to survive on. I thank you, friend."

Rashid nodded and clapped his hands twice. "Yes. This place and the others will be better protected starting by the end of the week. We will make sure no more attacks will interfere with your energy source."

Aarzam looked to be delighted as a smile split his face. "Thank you so much! I cannot wait to tell my family."

When he turned his back was when something clicked for Quatre. "Mr. Aarzam?"

Aarzam turned his head and said, "Yes."

"Why would you knowingly come here when there's been recent attacks? Wouldn't that put you in harm's way?" Quatre asked, watching his expression very closely. "Wouldn't you wait for word from the local police?"

Aarzam didn't say anything for a moment, but then said, "I do. But the situation is pretty dire. I can only last on electricity for so long. Mr. Khianat" – he pointed to the police officer whom Captain Gul had spoken with earlier – "allows me to come by, with permission, of course."

Quatre looked at Mr. Khianat, who nodded his head. "Yes, Mr. Aarzam is… he's quite the persistent character and has been pushing us to restart the facility. We cannot unless it's safe for employees to come back. He knows this and still comes. Even amid gunfire."

"Please don't endanger yourself, Mr. Aarzam," Rashid warned. "We will handle this."

Aarzam bowed his head. "I know and am thankful. Please be safe. Let Allah bless your stay." Aarzam turned and walked down the hill.

"Bloody man," came Mr. Khianat. "What a time to come. I'll check the perimeter and see if any other people escaped our notice."

The police and security forces soon spread throughout the facility leaving Quatre, Rashid, and Abdul alone. The three gathered, and Abdul chuckled. "It's about time we begin. After your orders, Quatre.

Quatre looked to the sky. His thoughts were on Aarzam. It was strange for a man to come through without being noticed. Was he let through, or did he have training? The police should have detained him right away. He couldn't put a finger on it, but Quatre knew something was off with the man's story, and the more he thought on it, the more his mind seemed to recall the IED.

He would need to inform the head security force of the Maganac Corps for this reason. He could not take anything off the table. Turning his thoughts away on Aarzam, he looked at Rashid and Abdul, who seemed to be anticipating what he would say. It didn't give him any pleasure for his next words.

"Begin Operation Blue Aegis. We'll have a squad of three stationed here and other troubled areas. We got to get this area protected, less we leave it worse than what it was."

---

Tokyo Park thrived in noise, sound, and festivity as people basked in the cloudless day. Children were running up and down the playground, laughing and squealing and shouting. They were uncontained beings of energy sprinting from one thing to the next, not necessarily focusing on the task but on the excitement that seemed to spring around them. It was completely contagious and infected the kids with carefree smiles, twinkling eyes, and energetic red faces.

Parents looked on with fond, adoring looks, taking pictures, and sharing them with other adults who also found that they too could share in the excitement and make future playdates. Couples sat by fountains holding each other, making faces saved for private spaces and on social media. Families were on the grassy field picnicking, lounging on large elaborate blankets. There were a couple of people alone, some watching, others reading or eating in the comfort of their own privacy.

Setsuna was one that was eating, holding a warm hotdog in his hand, drizzled with ketchup along its length. He had come to the park to escape the confines of his apartment. He needed some fresh air and the park, on this sunny day, looked like a good place to be. Sometimes enclosed spaces made him feel uncomfortable, tight, like walking through tight city alleyways where the walls seemed to intimidate and close in on him.

Outside gave him time to think about the world – his world – that is. Everyone seemed so at peace, delightfully at peace and ignorant to the goings on of the world. He wondered at times if this was the real world or a dream. It didn't seem real to him.

It was distant, and this distance was far removed from conflict. Should they not care for their fellow man? Were they worthy for the world Celestial Being was creating? He surmised people only cared about other people in the world until it affected them. They really did not want to know about the state of the world or at least form popular movements to bring humanity together.

"If they did, there would be no reason for Celestial Being," he said quietly. He brought his chestnut eyes on the crowd, watching them be, watching them live.

The excitement he saw on the public's faces did not bring him excitement. He felt nothing towards them. Just empty. Dead.

Am I supposed to feel something? Setsuna wondered idly, taking another bite from his hotdog. He chewed mechanically. Even the taste of his food felt dull today. It usually didn't and he was a picky eater. A cool breeze swept in, ruffling his long locks and nibbled at his skin.

Perhaps, it was as if that teen said: persistence could only make change and that change would affect these people as well. Duo Maxwell, Setsuna recalled his name. Setsuna hadn't forgotten their conversation. In fact, he had spent the night thinking over it.

What did he mean when he said Celestial Being will change the world, but it won't be the change they were looking for? Did he know something he didn't? Clearly, he seemed educated on geopolitical matters of the world.

Is there a driving force, a distortion that will pervert our change? The way Duo had phrased it seemed his mission was about to be more complicated. That down the road, Celestial Being's goals would fall asunder to the gravity of their cause. And the way he looked, like someone who had seen so much, like him, made Setsuna question Duo's experience, or maybe rate it up.

There was something familiar in that deeply ponderous expression that looked like the past had trapped him in his mind.

Whatever it was, Setsuna decided he would be following Duo's writing more closely. His take on the simmering cold war wasn't wrong, and it provided one of the best pieces to lookout for. He then took another bite of his hotdog and changed his gaze to the fountain merrily spouting water. It came in streams. Children were running their hands in it and flicking water in the air. The water droplets caught the sunshine, turned golden, and then into blazing embers.

A terrifying scream tore through the air.

The scream became a cry as a bomb exploded at his feet. The bang roared and shook the air, rattled the senses, and disoriented the mind and body. The earth quaked, and then trembled in small bursts. He was shrouded by a screen of fire and smoke as the explosion tore into the ground. The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils, and then there was another scent that lingered in the air.

It was a smell he could never forget. It roiled and churned the stomach by its pungency. A smell that only came when fire fed on human flesh. The scent of dead burned bodies.

The smoke shrouded his sight in thick, strangling blackness. It obscured, distorted, and moved. It soon lessened and thinned, dispersing by a heady wind, revealing an apocalyptic nightmare of destruction. Tokyo Park was in flames and scorched rubble, and greater Tokyo had been demolished.

The sky raged in crimson and black, reflecting a red haze over his vision. Dreary embers rose into the red sky. Dead bodies littered the grounds, grotesque and misshapen at odd angles. The children's playground was demolished and smoldering.

The grassy field was on fire and the surrounding trees black skeletons. They stared at Setsuna in a haunting disparate degradation. The fountain was a smoking crater and where water spurted, it now languidly pooled on black concrete like an oozing wound. Setsuna looked down at a lone, disfigured hand laying at his feet, its pale skin and fingers withered and shrunken black.

Am I supposed to feel something?

He silently stared at it for a moment. He felt nothing. There was no overwhelming fear or anguish, no sadness that gushed from his heart. There was no anger or distraught. There was just an empty space, a void that took it all in.

When he blinked, the world came splashing back in color. Blue brightened the sky. The sounds and noise leveled up and people were back as if that cataclysm never happened. Setsuna turned his eyes to his hotdog. It still felt warm in his hand, and he took another bite. Another smell invaded his senses other than the hotdog's and slightly wrinkled his nose.

Strange, he thought, the scent of smoke and decay won't leave.

"Hey, it's you."

Hearing a soft male voice, Setsuna looked up to see the boy he had met yesterday and a blonde-haired girl. She clung to him like a boa constrictor, looking somewhat afraid as her dainty fingers seized his biceps. They were a colorful couple that almost hurt his eyes. They looked to be on a date.

The blonde girl wore a blue skirt, saddled with a brown slouching belt, and pink shirt inside a muted yellow cardigan. Four golden barrettes were clipped to her hair, two on each side framing and holding her side bangs. Saji dressed in a beige suit blazer and dark pants. Noting his clothes, Setsuna couldn't find a wrinkle in sight. They must be on a date.

"Saji Crossroads," Setsuna said.

Saji looked to be delighted by Setsuna saying his name as his brown eyes brightened. It was as if he would forget him. How trivial, he thought, looking to Saji's shining and warm eyes.

"Yeah. That's it. You remembered my name," Saji said, smiling.

The girl looked to Saji with confusion written on her face. "Who is this?"

Saji turned to the girl and said, "Oh, he lives next door. He's, um…" he faltered at the end and gave an embarrassed look, one that was looking for askance.

How trivial to not remember a name. Setsuna almost growled his name. What a dull-headed boy.

"Setsuna F. Seiei."

"Yes, Setsuna. You have the strange name. I'm sorry I forgot for a second," Saji apologized. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

Setsuna stared. "Oh!" Saji's eyes widened. He turned to the girl on his arm. "Let me introduce you to Louise. Louise, this is Setsuna, my new neighbor."

Louise blinked at Saji and then turned to Setsuna. Her brow furrowed and she seemed to be expecting something, perhaps an introduction and a smile. Her blue eyes bore into his expectantly. Setsuna found the scene wholly unappealing.

Setsuna neither gave her a smile or a warm greeting. He averted his eyes to his hotdog and took another bite. While he was chewing, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed Louise pout her lips, and she quickly turned to Saji and whispered, "He doesn't seem like the friendly sort, Saji. Maybe we should leave him alone."

"Be nice, Louise. He's… he's the quiet type. He probably doesn't know anyone in the city. Let's make him feel welcomed."

"Saji," Louise whined, "you are always too nice. I think he wants to be alone." She tugged on his arm like a child yanking on a parent's pants leg, trying to direct the amused adult. "Let's go!"

Saji gave her a nervous smile, and Setsuna found his space crowded as he planted himself next to him on the bench, with Louise reluctantly filling the end of the bench. Setsuna gave the couple a questioning glare, and Saji chuckled. "You don't mind if we sit down here? You looked to be lonely."

Setsuna didn't say anything, and Saji took this as some sort of confirmation. "So, Setsuna, what brings you out on this nice day? Are you enjoying yourself here? Louise and I are travelling through the park before we go out to eat."

Louise nodded her head vigorously. "Saji's being a gentleman. He's going to take me out to eat takoyaki. You said it was close by, right?"

"It is Louise, I promise."

"You better!"

Setsuna turned his eyes downward and thought if he ignored the couple, they would go away. Like any other person who found a solid wall of silence. Walls don't speak, and Setsuna was counting on them to take a hint. A beat past, and Saji, along with an impatient Louise, continued to wait for him to answer.

He sighed softly through his nose. "I needed some space from my apartment. Today looked like a nice enough day."

Saji smiled at the answer and his brown eyes, briefly, flickered up to confirm what Setsuna had said. "I couldn't agree more, Setsuna. Despite it being chilly, there's nothing like these days before they turned frightfully cold."

Saji inclined his head to Louise. "Louise wouldn't know anything about cold," Saji teased. "She's from Madrid, Spain, where their fall and winters are pretty cold and dry. No snow."

"Jeez, Saji," complained Louise. "You think I've never been outside Spain during the winter!"

Louise brought her fingers up and began listing them. "I've been to Germany, France, England, the United States, China, Switzerland, Sweden, Norway…"

"Now, Louise, I think we get it," he said shakily, but Louise ignored him, still counting.

Setsuna had tuned her out, focusing on his hotdog. He had left it unattended, and it was starting to cool. He was about to take another bite when a beeping noise came. Setsuna froze for a second, checking himself. It wasn't coming from or vibrating from him.

He looked to the side to find Saji had his phone opened, its display screen opened on an JNN article. Louise had stopped talking and leaned forward. A voice echoed from the phone: "BREAKING NEWS! PMCs from Moralia have entered the Sahel countries to fight off ESUE-allied insurgents. The conflict has taken another turn for the worse as Sahel insurgents, now equipped with ESUE-developed Serpent suits, have seized numerous cities and capitals. Moralian PMC Trust, who seek to end the conflict, were sent hours ago along with allied forces, to liberate major cities captured by the insurgents."

"The Sahel?" Saji questioned, looking at Louise. "Isn't that region on the African continent?"

"Western Africa. Areas still in contention between the AEU and the ESUE over governance and colonialization policies," Setsuna stated automatically.

It was a topic he had been concerned about. It seemed if the war between the insurgents and AEU-influenced countries did not end, Celestial Being would make its appearance. He had been wondering why Sumeragi had not contacted the Meisters for intervention. He was sure soon they would have to, otherwise, the conflict in the Sahel would get progressively worse. If the ESUE had felt threatened, then, perhaps, another war between the two supranational nations would be on the carving block.

Thinking deeply, Setsuna could foresee a bigger battle on the front. The need for far from ordinary weapons and armor would need to be employed, and that was faster than expectations of Sumeragi and Veda's predictions. Both sides would be at fault, and that still left incrimination of weapons from the ESUE. What would they do?

And could they do something? Dynames was still being repaired from their intervention in Ceylon. It would take some time, and Virtue was needed for space to recharge the Ptolemaios. It would be just Kyrios and Exia, and such a wide conflict wouldn't be feasible. They would need a uniform plan of attack with all Meisters to assail the combatants.

Setsuna blinked, and Saji and Louise blinked, heads swiftly turning to look at him. He was taken aback by his response. "Will Celestial Being intervene? Didn't that Aeolia person say they will intervene if there's conflict?" Louise asked to Saji.

Saji shrugged helplessly. His face took on a look of concern. "I don't know. They probably will. Will the world change because they ended the conflict? They attacked both sides in Ceylon last time, Louise. But they're still fighting."

"Yeah – but Celestial Being attacked them again. They haven't started back again," Louise countered.

"The world will change," Setsuna said surely. "Even if it takes time, no matter how small or big. The world will change."

"You think so, Setsuna? I guess that'll make you an optimist," Saji chuckled. "What makes you so sure?"

No, not an optimist, thought Setsuna. He was a realist. His experiences defined his reality and the weight of the Gundams made the sword of change that easier to wield. The world had to change if the end of conflict was foreseeable in the future. It had to change.

Setsuna eyed both teenagers seriously before standing. "I just know," he said, and walked off. Not a moment later, his phone vibrated, and he felt himself tense. He took out his phone, read the contents of the message, and sprinted out of the park. A new mission had just arrived.