Captain Rancher and Marie hadn't expected to find themselves back in Captain Skelper's office so soon. They and Commander Skour were sitting in the padded chairs in front of the Captain's desk as he rubbed his forehead, his mantle a turbulent mix of frustrated reds, morose blues, and stormy greys.
"The stakes have been raised," he said at last. His voice was strained and the other officers were worried he might brake down and cry at any moment.
"The Military Procurement Oversight Committee has gotten directly involved. They'll be coming soon to assess our program, the warship upgrade program, and the Heavy Fighter Program. So not only are we going to be putting on a demonstration, but they will as well, and if they outdo us, it will mean the end of our program."
The Captain buried his face in his hands. He was a squid who was clearly nearing the end of his rope.
Unwilling to permit the awkwardness of the moment, she cleared her throat. "Sir, forgive me, but wouldn't the Army have something to say about that? They're also waiting for this mobile suit."
He sighed. "Of course they are, but they already have all they need in terms of testing and design. They're already building a limited production version of the GM on Terra while they wait for the mass production version to be ready. Unfortunately, they can only build on Terra. They wouldn't be able to get suits to the Lunar Army Corps. Gibraltar is the only location safe enough in space to actually build the GM mobile suits, since the Marines already took the only other available facilities on Scylla. I don't think they could afford the time it would take to convert their facilities making the Guntanks. Even if they could, the design won't have been adequately tested for use in space and they'd have to start our same test program over again."
Commander Skour explained further. "The Army and CSF were supposed to share the development and manufacturing resources between them. The Lunar Army Corps was supposed to get 40% of all GMs manufactured at Gibraltar for the first year of production. If the CSF backs out, the Army might not be able to afford the resources to continue the program, and even if they do, the CSF runs the factory up here and probably won't want to spend its own limited resources transporting supplies for a program they already rejected. Besides, they'll probably want that factory for the Heavy Fighters."
Captain Skelper groaned, his mantle a sickly yellow-grey. "They must have realized that with your unit here development would get accelerated and they're trying to cut us off before we're ready. Someone on their side must have called in some favours."
Rancher leaned forward. "By 'they' you mean the other programs?"
"Yes," Skelper sighed. "Vice-Admiral Horn is the main proponent of the Warship Anti-MS Upgrade Program. He's always been a member of the Battleship Committee. He hates things like fighters and bombers practically as a rule. He must have felt seriously threatened if he was willing to ally with Rear-Admiral Gibbs and the Heavy Fighter Program."
"Does that mean the Committee's decision is predetermined?"
It was actually Marie who addressed that. "Not a chance. The Committee is chaired by Councillor Greyfall. He'll have recognized what's going on and will keep an eye on things. I don't think he'd have an inclination for one program over the other and would rely mostly on his own observations and what the arguments are for the benefits of each program."
"He's a member of one of the conservative parties though," Skour pointed out. "They're not exactly known for radical thinking."
"I think he'd be practical." Marie casually smoothed one of the folds of her flight suit and looked firmly into Skelper's eyes. "We'd just have to convince him the program is worth it. The real problem is the other members."
"They all have industrial ties," Skour grumbled. "A few of them might be tied to the MS program but a lot of them won't. I'm not sure they'd leave this decision up to the Admiralty Board either, given their perceived lack of competence in the war so far, but if what you said is right, their opinions could carry a lot of weight and even the Committee can't override the wishes of the Admiralty without risk."
Skelper sighed again and rubbed his hands over his face. "All we can do is try to make the least problematic demonstration we can. If we could just fix that fuel line issue to the foot thrusters, it would be a huge boost. Compared to that, all the little production issues are a non-factor. Those are typical and we're working through those quickly enough it would be easy to reassure the Committee, and the design for the mass production suit will be much simpler anyway." Captain Skelper sounded like a person desperately trying to convince himself, wringing his hands almost ceaselessly.
Commander Skour coughed. "Well, Sir, if we're going to stand the best chance we can, we'd better get back to work. We've got a lot of ground to make up."
Skelper's eyes suddenly refocused, as if coming out of a trance. He looked at the three of them then flashed green. "Y-yes, you're right. I have a lot to prepare as well. Keep me updated as per usual, Commander. Captain, Lieutenant, you're all dismissed."
They stood up, saluted, then briskly left the office.
After they'd walked a short distance down the corridor, Skour spoke quietly to the other two. "I'm going to try and find out what I can about the other two programs. If they're moving this fast then they're going to have to rush things too. If I find out more about them, maybe we can figure out what we need to do for our own demonstration. In the meantime, I need maximum effort, push as hard as you can to get your pilots ready."
"Yes, Sir," they replied, though they both wondered what they were supposed to do when everyone was already giving it their maximum effort.
A few minutes later, Rancher and Marie were standing alone in the lift, letting some of the tension from the meeting drain out of their bodies.
"Thank you, Ma'am," Marie said.
Rancher arched an eyebrow towards her. "For what?"
"For not mentioning that my grandmother is the head of the Conservative Association and of the National Reformist Party."
Rancher smiled. "Of which Councillor Greyfall happens to be a member." She pulsed blue. "You're welcome, I guess. Not that that it would have helped."
"No, but it did save me from an awkward situation when I would have had to tell a superior officer I'm not about to abuse those kinds of connections. It's unprofessional and, frankly, it wouldn't help us in this situation. We can't risk any scandals."
Rancher flashed green. "I understand. I don't suppose you have some ideas of how we're going to push even harder than we already are? You can at least help us figure out a way to catch Greyfall's eye, right?"
Marie's jaw clenched. "Greyfall will look at the people involved in the project for clues. If someone has a lot of political or industrial connections; and what kind of person they are. We have to show that we can overcome what's being piled against us. If we can stand up in the face of all that, it might make enough noise that he'll wonder why someone's trying so hard to bring us down. To do that, we need everyone up to speed quick. We've been slowed down a bit getting Starburn adapted to space. She never got the full Marine training."
Rancher lightly tapped the side of her leg, thinking. "Then maybe I ought to give her some of it. Now that she's got her SNC, we gotta' get the basic principals of zero-g nailed into her head. If we can get them to become instinct, she'll fly as well as the rest of us." She grinned then added. "And better add the other two rookies in for fun. I'd hate for them to feel left out."
Marie smirked. "Oh, I'm sure they would appreciate that Ma'am. And if you're going to do that, then I might have an idea of how to speed things up even more."
"Again."
Sahna bit back a groan. One thing she was appreciating since joining the 13th was how well Marine basic training had prepared her for dealing with life in the military. Don't complain in front of your superiors and just get on with it because you have to do it anyway and you'd only get yelled at more.
She floated towards the start of the zero-g course that had been set up in the expansive training room normally used by special forces. In their absence, Captain Rancher had taken it upon herself to try and fill in some of the gaps in Sahna's Marine training, roping in Dirk and Hypori as well.
Federation Marines were meant to be trained in land, water, and space combat. Sahna had gone through the first two, but because the Collective had such commanding space superiority, the Federation couldn't afford the risk of sending Marine trainees for space training, especially when they would probably never leave Terra for the duration of the war. They thought it better to omit that training and get them to the front lines faster. Unfortunately, that meant Sahna was still playing catch up, and that gap in her training was unacceptable to the pre-war regulars like Rancher.
The Marine captain waited for the three rookies to line up at the start of the obstacle course then blew her whistle, and they were off once more.
As he'd done every round so far, Dirk led the way. His Lunar Army Corps training included activities like this, but Sahna was getting better at keeping up.
In order to make it through the obstacle course effectively, Sahna had to change her orientation in mid-air, use handholds to change direction precisely in order to fit through small openings without banging into the barriers, and keep herself from getting disoriented in a space with no real up or down.
To people like Hypori, who had grown up in space, this was second nature, but for Sahna and Dirk, who had grown up on a planetary body, up and down were things that couldn't be ignored, so they had to find new ways of orienting themselves, and that meant thinking in a 3D space instead of a flat plane like they were used to. Sahna had to lean heavily on her experience playing flight and space sims for that, but these were essential skills she needed to know to operate in space, even in a mobile suit.
Despite her best attempt, Dirk completed the course just ahead of her, with Hypori coming close behind.
"I almost had you," she panted.
Dirk, with a lack of smugness that somehow made it more infuriating, replied, "almost."
Hypori giggled. "Gotta' love that confidence. At least you're getting better, Scar. Hopefully, that means you won't be constantly crashing into satellites and buoys when we get out there."
Having caught her breath, she asked, "does that happen a lot?"
"Often enough. Usually it's because people are coming in too fast or trying to squeeze their ship in where they shouldn't. Usually writes off the buoy and then someone has to go out and clean up the mess."
Sahna grimaced. "I'll try to avoid that."
Dirk lightly tapped on her head with his index finger. "Marine head beats satellite every time."
"I heard that," Rancher called, but she was grinning. "You're done here for today. Head to the hangar and get suited up. Sansea and Cuttlefish are waiting for you there."
They wasted no time, heading immediately for the locker room, and now, Sahna didn't need to have her hand held in order to navigate the weightless corridors of the fortress. Compared to the obstacle course, it was child's play.
"What do you think it's going to be this time?" Sahna asked as they got suited up.
"Probably flight training," Hypori supposed. "Knowing Marie, she probably wants to push you two before she puts you in a 'suit."
"Haven't touched Zakus yet," Dirk observed. "Will be harder to learn than GMs."
That was true. The GM was based on a unit they had already trained on, but the Zakus would be very different beasts. They had been given a tour of their interiors at Black Butte during their initial training but Sahna still wasn't sure how well they would adapt.
They reached the airlock antechamber and found Callie and Marie waiting for them.
"Helmet's on," Marie ordered without preamble, and did so herself while opening the airlock door. She didn't say anything further until they were all inside and the airlock began to cycle.
"We're starting training on the Zakus now."
"Already?" Hypori exclaimed!
"They're not having us train just for the fun of it, Ensign. Most of the pilots in Blue Team were part of a test pilot group for the Guncannon, so they're ideal to test the GM in combat. And since Callie and I have more hours on the Zaku than anyone outside the Collective, we're ideal to fly them and train the three of you."
"Hypori's a head over us," Dirk pointed out.
Hypori groaned but Sahna grinned, remembering Hypori's Gundam being fitted with a Zaku's cyclops head after losing its own in fierce battle between the 13th and an elite Octarian unit. Hypori hadn't been happy about the modification, especially since it had been done without her knowledge.
Marie actually smirked, though again, Dirk somehow managed to maintain a completely straight face. But Sahna knew him well enough to notice the glint of humour in his eyes.
"Keep those puns for the enemy," Marie told him. "They're the ones we're trying to kill."
"Still better than some of yours," Callie muttered. Marie ignored her.
The airlock finished cycling and they floated into the hangar. The two skeletal units had been completed, looking less fragile with their armour on, and they were joined by three more, each in different states of deconstruction as the techs dealt with issues from manufacturing, which was apparently common for brand new models of any machine. Routing wiring through the cockpit armour was just one of many issues they were trying to solve.
The Zakus were juxtaposed opposite the GMs, as if they were there purely for contrast, and perhaps as motivation. Then again, they had their own issues; most of them were built from bits and pieces of different Zakus that had been recovered across various battlefields.
"So what are we doing?" Sahna asked. "Familiarization?"
"In a manner of speaking." Marie stopped in front of the only Zaku I, the oldest model. "This one's mine. It's the one I originally took from the Collective."
Hypori tilted her head, "you're taking the oldest one?"
"It's the one I know best, and besides, it's got the speed to keep up with the rest of them." She gestured towards the back of the machine, indicating the expanded thruster pack with additional thrusters at the ends of long, conical fuel tanks jutting out from the pack itself. That was definitely not standard.
"During testing, the original backpack was damaged, so they strapped on a new one they were developing for a prototype that never really saw the light of day. They skipped it and went straight for the Guncannon and Gundam after the Guntank. Their backpacks are just refined and compact versions of this one. Trust me, I won't have to worry about keeping up with you."
"I'm taking that one." Callie gestured to the machine next to Marie's, a Zaku II model, a C version if Sahna identified it correctly. Save for the bright orange colouration typical of most Federation test vehicles, she saw nothing to separate it from the standard model.
Hypori asked the obvious question. "So, we're taking the other three?"
"Of course. Pick whichever one you want and that'll be your machine –."
"Great! I'm taking that one! Dibs!" Hypori pushed herself to the middle of the last three machines, one where each major component was a different colour.
"Always have to be different, don't you?" Sahna remarked as she caught up.
"It just speaks to me."
"Harlequin," Dirk observed, looking the machine up and down.
Sahna frowned. "A what?"
"Old fairy tale. Person wanted to stand out. Killed peopled. Took parts from them. Thought it would make them popular. Got ugly and dead instead."
"Gross."
Hypori huffed. "I don't try to stand out; I just try to be me. If I stand out because of that, it's not my fault."
Dirk didn't comment. He floated to the one between the harlequin machine and Callie's, leaving Sahna with the last one.
Marie called out to them. "Now that that's all settled, mount up. We're heading out."
All three rookies turned abruptly.
"But we haven't been trained on these things," Hypori protested.
Marie eyed all three of them with a firm stare. "You've seen the cockpit layout and where the basic controls are at Black Butte, haven't you?"
"Well sure but –."
"The startup sequence is basically the same as our machines except your starting up a fluid pulse instead of field motors. We trained you three, we know you can handle it. The only question mark was your ability to control yourselves in space." She eyed Sahna in particular. "So I wanted to catch you while the muscle memory was fresh. Now, mount up, Red Team."
Dirk shook off the spell of dumbfounding first and moved to board his Zaku. Hypori went next while Sahna had to force aside the barrage of regulations and general common sense assaulting mind right behind her eyes before she too followed her orders, trying to reassure herself that Marie wouldn't do this without a good reason. She pushed them hard, but she wasn't the type to throw a baby bird off a high cliff to see if it would fly… was she?
Sahna's machine seemed to be made of parts of a similar grey colour, which meant they'd probably been taken from machines from space rather than Terra, which she took as a good sign.
Zakus built for space had an airlock system built into the chest rather than a direct hatch to the cockpit. A segment in the chest armour slid upwards, revealing the airlock door, which opened into a short tunnel to the actual cockpit hatch. The Terran-made Zaku Ground-types did away with the airlock completely, freeing up weight and space.
Sahna sealed the airlocks behind her, familiar now with standard airlock systems thanks to her space navigation certificate. The cockpit itself was no more roomy than in her old Gundam Ground-Type, but it was all round and smooth rather than the hard, angular shapes found in the cockpits of Federation designs.
As she settled into the cockpit, she found that the original radio system had been ripped out and a Federation one crudely retrofitted in. At least that was one thing she wouldn't have to figure out. The suit's controls were another matter.
She felt her way through the startup sequence. The original Octoscript had been replaced with Inklish, so she didn't have to guess what each one did. Once she got the radios working, she checked in.
"Good to see everyone's gotten that far," Marie's voice replied. "Much as I'd like to trust you to get yourselves out of the hangar, it's tight quarters and there are things in here marked 'fragile' so we'll pull each of you out into the main hangar then go from there."
Sahna grimaced at the thought of their inexperience causing an accident or damage to the priceless new mobile suits.
Sahna grasped the control handles, which were canted grips attached to articulating arms. She flexed her fingers which were picked up by the sensors in the grips, moving the fingers on her Zaku. Additional switches and buttons were on the back of the grip, controlled by the thumb. She wasn't sure what they all did as they had no labels on them at all.
The forward view screen was another thing different from her old Gundam. It was wider and slightly curved. It wasn't showing much information at the moment other than the view directly in front of her through the backup cameras. Just like their mobile suits, the main sensors needed to be preheated.
Looking out the flat view screen to the left, she saw Marie and Callie's machines already moving. With impressive delicacy, they pulled Dirk's and Hypori's machines from their alcoves and then into the main hangar.
Anticipating, Sahna hovered her finger over the switch controlling the restraints holding her mobile suit in the alcove and waited until Marie came back for her before triggering it.
"Wait until we're in the main hangar before powering up the main sensors. We don't want to make everyone nervous." There was sarcasm in her tone, implying she had been told this by somebody else.
"Understood."
Sahna removed her hands from the controls lest she inadvertently make them move, and waited as her team leader gently pulled her from the alcove and into the main hangar. Sahna watched as the door separating the two slowly closed behind them.
"Alright, test your limbs out. Get a feel for the controls. They'll be a bit different but the overall movements are pretty much the same.
Sahna brought the power of the pulse fluid pumps from stand-by to full and began manipulating the controls. They were sensitive compared to what she was used to, but the articulating arms the grips were mounted to allowed her to manipulate the arms of her mobile suit more precisely than the short control levers on the the Federation's mobile suits. Trickier to use but she could understand the advantage. She could move the suit as if it were her own armour, once she learned how.
"These controls are tricky," Hypori commented. "Should we turn down the sensitivity?"
"No," Marie said sternly. "The Octarians have a fetish for precise controls, but for mobile suits, that's what you want. The simpler controls you're used to are enough for the average grunt who might not have the training to make best use of the greater precision, but that's not you; you are the thirteenth. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good. Then go full active and follow me out to the course. It's time you learned how to fly."
The eye on her Zaku flashed on, giving it that trademark, cyclops appearance that was so unsettling. Callie did the same and the two exited the hangar, expecting them to follow.
Sahna hit the switch for her own sensors.
*VEEN*
Sahna twitched. She hadn't expected to hear that noise. It was as if her mobile suit had suddenly woken up.
She tested her controls again, getting a feel for how the machine responded, but Hypori set off immediately, with Dirk following. Once again, she found herself lagging behind her peers.
Suppressing a wave of frustration and the pain of her bruised ego, she coaxed her machine out of the hangar and into open space. The lights of nearby beacons and buoys flashed and glowed against the blackness. She easily found the rest of her team.
"Good, you managed to avoid banging into the walls," Marie said. "Now follow me, we're going through the fighter training course."
Sahna stiffened. "The Racecourse?"
"So you've heard of it then?"
Sahna's heart cycles sped up. "Of course! Mama told me about it all the time. I was always trying to beat her time in the simulators at home. They usually like copying the course because everyone wants to fly it."
"Don't rely on your memory of the simulators here," Marie said firmly. "The course changes subtly over time, even in space, just because of the aetheric currents affected by Gibraltar's mass. They maintain the course enough so that it remains within parameters but more than one idiot thought he could race the course because they set a fast time it in a random simulator and ended up a new crater."
Sahna swallowed. "Understood, Ma'am."
"Good. We'll take things slow at first, but not too slow. You all know how to fly in space now, so I don't want any excuses. Keep up. Don't worry about formation right now, that'll come later."
Marie increased her speed and the rest maintained pace with her. The course was near the "bottom" of Fortress Gibraltar, where the asteroid tapered into a more conical shape. The course itself was made up of small asteroid chunks that had broken off and a some marker buoys. The course had a mix of easy turns and more difficult, technical sections meant to test pilots across a range of different manoeuvres. Fighter pilots had to complete the course within a certain time limit in order to pass, and they often tried to complete it as quickly as possible for bragging rights.
"Are we gonna' fit in there?" Hypori asked.
"Callie and I have both done it so unless they decided to move a few things closer in, yes, we'll fit, albeit with considerably less margin for error than your typical fighter, but that just means you'll have to fly better."
"No pressure, huh?"
Callie laughed. "If you don't want pressure, stay out of the military."
"I was told the military was mostly boredom separated by minutes of terror."
"Which is this?" Dirk asked her.
"I'll let you know on the other side."
"You only need to keep up," Marie told them, ignoring Hypori's comments. "We'll be taking things slow at first. You know how to make a mobile suit walk, run, and jump, but now you have to learn how to make one fly."
They moved to the start of the course, indicated by a pair of larger, checkered buoys, then she accelerated, forcing them to try and keep up.
The course started out simple, with wide turns that were easy to drift around, but things soon got tighter and more technical, forcing Sahna to focus carefully on her movements.
"Don't just fly them as if they're rigid machines," Marie reminded them chidingly. How often had she said something similar during their initial training at Black Butte? "They have limbs just like you do. Remember what you were just doing in the gym? Use that knowledge here to maximize your efficiency."
She demonstrated by going into a chicane much faster than Sahna thought a mobile suit could manage, then used her feet to kick off the asteroids and get through it. Callie copied the manoeuvre flawlessly.
Hypori went next, though her attempt was a bit more clumsy. Dirk and Sahna both slowed before making their own attempt, not feeling nearly as confident, but even slowing down didn't help much, as their efforts were even more clumsy than Hypori's forcing them to use their control thrusters to compensate.
"Don't overthink," Marie instructed. "You already know how to do the movements, and we drilled into your brain how to translate your body movements into a mobile suit back at Black Butte. Let your muscle memory and the instinct you've developed do the work."
Easier said than done. Sahna had only just gotten used to moving about in space, and while she had become proficient, it hadn't yet become second nature, but she didn't complain, she just had to keep up and get through the course. But Marie wouldn't be making it any easier, because she didn't slow down as the course became more technical, she sped up.
As they sped through, Sahna learned about shifting her mobile suit to make the best use of her thrusters around corners, pulling in then spreading out her limbs to make more controlled turns and use her thrusters more efficiently, thus saving propellant.
After they went through the course once, Marie took them through again, this time even faster. Sahna never had time to think, she just had to move and keep up. Kicking off asteroids, flexing her limbs in and out, but even at this pace, she was falling further behind Dirk and the others.
Sahna sped up, desperate not to be left behind. She couldn't let herself drag her team down, couldn't let herself be the weak link.
*Bang!*
Sahna misplaced her foot on one of the asteroids she was trying to kick off of, causing it to slip. Her left shoulder banged into it and her mobile suit bounced off at an awkward angle, sending her tumbling and throwing her roughly around the cockpit in spite of her harness.
She fought to regain control, but the suit kept banging into more debris, throwing her around so much she couldn't orient herself. In a panic, old flying habits from her sim days kicked in, trying to slow herself down, but they didn't match up with the thruster layout of the mobile suit so it wasn't having the effect she desired and found herself careening towards an especially large rock.
There was a flash of motion as Callie flew her Zaku into the asteroid ahead of her, turning at the last second to land feet first and lift up her arms to catch Sahna before she hit the rock.
Finally slowed and in control, Sahna began to shake, adrenaline flooding her veins as she panted heavily, the inside of her pilot suit soiled with her ink.
"You okay?" Callie asked.
Taking a second to catch her breath, Sahna responded. "I think so. Thanks."
"What happened?" Marie and the other two were floating towards them.
"I… missed a kick, Ma'am." Sahna's voice fell off, her pride as battered as her Zaku.
"No, you lost focus. You have a bad habit of thinking too much and getting distracted, Starburn. In combat, you can't waste time thinking about how to make your machine do what you need it to do; you need that thinking power for other things, like positioning, awareness of your surroundings, and the greater tactical situation. You need to be able to fly until you can do it purely by instinct."
"That's what I was doing," Sahna insisted. "It's just… I was using old instincts…"
She couldn't outright tell her she had been trying to copy what she'd done in flight sim games, that would make her sound like a complete amateur.
"I see. Then we're going to have to kick you out of those old habits. Are you still operational?"
Sahna checked her readouts. She couldn't read many of them as they were written in Octoscript, but she didn't see anything that looked like a warning.
"I think so."
"Then we're going to go back to the start and we're going to fly the course again, and again, until we run out of spare propellant, and then tomorrow, we're going to do the same thing until we kick you out of those habits and we get all of you flying these things like you've been doing it since hatching. No leave until everyone is up to standard."
Sahna winced. "Yes, Ma'am."
She followed behind the others, feeling about a centimetre tall. Worse, she felt like she'd let her team down. That was something she absolutely could not allow. She could practically hear her mother's voice admonishing her for her losing focus, just as she had many times when she'd guided her through the sims.
I'll do better. I have to do better. I can't let her down. Can't let the team down. I can't be the weak link. I have to prove I deserve to be here.
Varmos opened his helmet and quietly sucked fresh coffee from his fluid packet as he watched the lines of buoys ahead through the view port of his new bridge, marking the course through the artificial debris field in which his new ship was being put through her paces.
Audacity's bridge was larger than Farwalker's, which was good because there were a lot more bridge stations that needed to be filled in. It was, perhaps, just a bit more vulnerable because it stuck out more prominently, but at least there were two pairs of heavy guns to make anyone think twice about trying to decapitate her.
He still didn't like the idea of exposed bridges though. His first command as captain, Thunderhead, had her bridge safely tucked deep into the ship's hull. Safe until guided weapons became consistent at shooting a ship's centre of mass and sending shrapnel throughout.
The Salamis-class had three separate bridges, all exposed and sticking out quite prominently from the main hull, which sounded stupid until the first few fights in which much of the rest of the ship was wrecked by long-range missiles but the bridges remained intact. Because fights happened at such long distances back then, it was difficult to aim for the bridges specifically. Thus, the Salamis had become the backbone of the CSF. Now, bridges were vulnerable again, obvious targets for the closer-in combat enjoyed by mobile suits. At least they were still reasonably effective against enemy warships and Audacity had two bridges, the second one being in a symmetrical position near the ventral side of the hull.
"How's she handling, Helm?"
Daxter didn't look back at him, his eyes were on his instruments and the view straight ahead. He was focusing hard. This was the largest ship he had ever helmed.
"So far, like my last girlfriend, Sir: big, slow, and clumsy."
Varmos smirked. "Well then, I suppose that when we push her a little harder, we'd better hope the people who designed this ship had a more successful dating life."
Chuckles rose among the bridge crew, then the sensor officer reported.
"M-particle density rising, but I can still see two targets." His voice betrayed his surprise.
Next to Varmos, the yard representative grinned. "I can't speak to the quality of enemy sensors but at least we've been able to put sensors on her that can actually see into that soup. They're the ones the latest ships in the fleet have been fitted with."
"Then let's see if we can use those sensors to actually hit something." Varmos touched his comm stub. "Bridge to Tactical."
Lt. Commander Morol Clutchguard's voice came through the com. "Tactical here, Bridge."
"You see the targets?"
"Aye, Sir."
"I don't want to anymore."
"Aye, Sir." The eagerness in the new tactical officer's voice was palpable. Varmos knew what that felt like, back when he'd been gunner aboard a gunboat early in his career.
The turret mounted port side of the bridge fired first, followed closely by the turret on the starboard side. Each turret only fired one of its two guns. The shot from the first turret just barely missed while the shot from the second hit almost square on, destroying the target drone. The next drone fell to the first turret this time.
"Sir! More targets! All around us!"
Instead of looking at the shocked sensor officer, Varmos looked at the sensor repeater displays above him. The sensor display showed targets appearing from behind the asteroids all around them, coming out almost all at once.
"Bridge to Tactical. All weapons free."
"Aye, Bridge, all weapons free!" The tactical officer sounded surprised and a little excited, but not panicked, which was good. He'd been a little worried when he'd seen the tac officer's lack of experience, but so far he hadn't disappointed. Time to see how well those gun crews did.
The night all around Audacity lit up with tracer fire as her point defence guns opened up. Pink beams slashed at the darkness from the particle cannons, searching for targets.
Small explosions rewarded their efforts as the drones were hit, but not all of them. Some had evaded the oncoming fire and were weaving in closer. There was frantic shooting and a whole lot of wasted ammunition as the gunners struggled to find their targets.
Instead of commenting on the obvious lack of accuracy, Varmos simply said, "so those are the new nintey-mills in action."
The puzzled yard rep looked up from the data pad he was consulting, a little taken aback. "Yes. The guns themselves were originally developed by "Sister". We just had to develop the weapon system and adapt existing targeting systems around them. The engineers who worked on the project said it was one of the easiest jobs they've done."
"CSTRD eh?" Varmos stroked his chin. "I wonder what they developed guns that size for."
"To kill mobile suits, apparently. I'm told they work as long as you can actually make the bullets hit."
He looked outside where the last of the target drones had finally been knocked out.
Huffing out a sigh, Varmos hit his comm stub again. "Bridge for Engineering." A few moments passed before his Chief Engineer, Lieutenant-Commander Glazkin responded.
"Engineering here, Sir. You do a lot of shooting just now?"
"Just dealing with a little surprise the brass left for us." Varmos glanced up at the yard rep who frowned unhappily. He obviously hadn't been told either. "How's that newfangled minovsky reactor treating you?"
"Pretty damn well, Sir, all things considered. Glad we've got two of 'em though. Pushing the engines at full power and firing all the guns is a lot for them to handle. They're a lot smaller than most ships this size would normally have."
"I'll keep that in mind, Chief, but the whole purpose of trials like this is to find out where the breaking points are. We'll keep her at full power for now but then we'll go nice and easy on the way back home."
"Aye, Sir."
Varmos closed the comm. "Helm, how'd she keep course?"
"Well, Sir, girl barely flinched. Not surprised though by the way she handles. Feels like she's a little uneven too."
The yard rep frowned and floated over to the helm station as Daxter indicated some of his instruments. While he did that, Varmos keyed his comm again. "Main bridge to Secondary Bridge, status?"
Stoker's voice came back half a second later. "Secondary Bridge here, Sir."
"How was the ride, XO? Things okay down there?"
"Just fine, Sir, but I'm not satisfied with the quality of our gunnery."
"Then we'll have to work on it, Commander. Time to make use of that new rank of yours."
"Aye, Sir, I'll smarten them up."
"Good to hear. Bridge out.
"Navigation, how much longer until we're through the course?"
Lieutenant Hurler twisted in her seat to look at him. "About fifteen minutes, Sir."
"Very good. Make a mark at the exit for engines at one-quarter, please."
"Aye, Sir. Making note, engines at one-quarter."
That done, Varmos settled into his seat, hoping he could relax a little while the crew put the ship through the rest of its tests.
"Sir, communication from Gibraltar. Admiral Blackhill is calling you."
Varmos swallowed a curse and unstrapped himself from his seat. "I'll take it in my office, Lieutenant. Please ask the Admiral to hold on a second."
"Aye, Sir."
Varmos left the bridge and entered the airlock to the habitation section. As per current CSF protocols, all other sections of the ship had been depressurized, an important thing to test even in simulated combat.
Varmos removed his helmet as he left the airlock and floated the short distance to his office where he keyed the com stub on his desk. "Alright, Lieutenant, put the admiral through."
A second later, Admiral Blackhill appeared on his monitor screen. "Good day to you, Captain. Enjoy our little surprise?"
Varmos suppressed a sigh. "I figured it was you. I see some things never change."
Blackhill grinned shamelessly. "Well, I figured you wouldn't mind the additional test of your ship and practice for your crew. Anyway, that's not why I called. There have been some… developments."
The quick withdrawal of any humour on his features caught Varmos' full attention. "That doesn't sound good."
Blackhill's mantle displayed frustration. "I won't get into the details, they aren't really important for you to know. What is important is that there's a little series demonstrations coming up for some of the CSF's biggest development programs, and they're all competing for a piece of that ever shrinking resource pie. The Military Procurement Oversight Committee has decided that there isn't enough pie left for all of them to get a piece, so now they're going to have to fight it out for the one piece that's left."
"Sounds like the typical politics." Varmos spread his hands just above the surface of his desk. "So, where do we fit in this? The ship's already built."
"Yes," Blackhill sighed. "The ship itself probably won't be affected, but what she carries in her hangars will be. I'd like for you to join us for the upcoming demonstrations. I thought you might like to have a say in what gets put in your hangars. And with the Committee coming in person to Gibraltar, we need all the educated opinions we can get here."
Varmos did everything he could to keep his mantle from turning an ugly brown. He didn't want to get dragged into CSF politics, especially if even the admiral was apprehensive about it, but he couldn't pass up the chance to voice his opinion on what his ship carried into battle and if he could see for himself what his options were and how they performed, he could better make his arguments.
"Of course, Sir; I'd be happy to."
Blackhill smirked in a way that showed he didn't believe him but appreciated it all the same.
"I'll send you the details later; in the meantime, don't worry about it. I'll talk to you soon, Captain."
Blackhill cut the connection and Varmos rubbed the side of his nose, eyes shut. Fantastic, another headache he had to deal with. They were mostly on the sidelines with this issue, but competing for funding was always a messy affair. He only hoped it wouldn't come back to bite them.
Author's Notes:
Sahna's ego may be considered a fault but at least it's a source of motivation. Being in the 13th is rough and being in Red Team is even rougher. Do you think Marie may be pushing her little birds too far away from the nest too soon?
This chapter also helps to inform that Marie was hatched into a family of both wealth and power. This was something I added in later drafts to further contrast Rauld moving forward.
This chapter I also tried to explain the reasons for the exposed bridges on various ships I've borrowed from the Gundam timeline in this story, and rationalize it in some way. I probably could have (and maybe should have) simply left it unaddressed but I wanted to do it this way. I should note that, in real life, we have the technology to do this now and have been able to for some time, but we still make ships with exposed bridges.
