The hull of the blocky vessel trembled as the mobile suit pushed away, the backpack thrusters igniting after reaching a safe distance. The red and white GM leapt off its bay instead of being fired from a catapult, holding a rectangular beam rifle in both hands. Soon, it blasted towards its target, with two companions at its side, hugging close like the other teams.
Fifteen GMs crossed the gulf between the mothership and their target, burning towards the oval profile of the six hundred meter long krogan heavy cruiser, coasting across space at a reasonable speed. There were no escorts this time, just a debris cloud from a destroyed station between the GMs and their objective. A nearby gas giant provided a small but noticeable disturbance from its presence, causing several of the GMs to correct their course.
The lead GMs broke off as they planned. Three teams went in separate directions while the remaining six spaced apart, the front ranks raising weapons to fire; red tinted beams slashed across the void, splashing against the barrier for a flash. Contrary to the technical reports the shields held, the vessel turned away rather than attempting to engage.
Of the three teams burning towards their target, one to the prow's railgun, one to the engines, and the last taking aim at its sensor grid, they applied more thrust to reach the target before it jumped to FTL. Valuable information could be gleaned from just this distant encounter, time was of the essence. Thus, the first team heading for the main gun took aim, until a yellow beam cored the leader.
As the GM exploded the rest of the armada immediately took note, the squadron leader pulsing a comm laser; m-particle density was high enough that radio was essentially gone, assuming the planet's interference didn't already render their comms useless. The largest grouping broke off to intercept the attacker, the first team's remaining units tracking a fast moving mobile suit.
Beams stabbed through space with a lot of red and no small amount of yellow, the GMs breaking off rather than staying on a predictable course. That training saved their lives, one narrowly avoiding a beam saber which threatened to bisect it. The GM unloaded its vulcans at the foe, twisting at the snapshots heading its way; the yellow and purple Gelgoog fired again, its monoeye swiveling to the reinforcements. A mere two units, providing covering fire for their allies to escape.
More flashes showed the other teams were being harassed. The total opposition looked like a trio of Gelgoogs. The krogan didn't have mobile suits, but here they were.
The leader of the GMs sent a quick laser burst to its counterparts, then blasted towards the Gelgoog at max thrust. It took off rather than getting close, seeking to circle around to intercept its fleeing comrades before they could target the vessel; shimmers were rising quickly, and it was about to jump to FTL. Unusually well aimed bursts of point defense guns warded off the closest GMs. They needed both physical shields and their kinetic barriers to keep from being shredded.
As the Gelgoog took aim, the cruiser's engines blossomed with fire, concentrated beams burning through the shields to impact against the plate armor underneath. The majority of the damage only charred the top layers, ablative coating that could simply counter laser weapons melting off to expose golden plates, to which the particle cannons strived to obliterate. Point defenses damaged several GMs, although not enough to slay any mobile suit just yet, but more than enough to hamper efforts to hit vulnerable targets. Before receiving severe damage, each unit retreated on its own. The machines had suffered enough damage to be written off, yet it was incredible that none of them had been destroyed.
The enemy forces overwhelmed both Gelgoogs, with one being sliced in half by a saber. The other chased a zipping GM, destroying it before whipping around and evading a pursuer, the mobile suit starting to bank before correcting its course. A beam sheared off the GM's leg, but a barrage of repositioned fire perforated the Gelgoog before it could finish it, allowing the wounded mobile suit to unload in the now drifting cruiser, hammering away while power died.
The remaining Gelgoog was firing behind it as it flew, sacrificing raw thrust for maneuverability in its quest to destroy the GM leader. He twisted and jetted amazingly fast. The beams came close enough that its barrier collapsed, causing damage to its armor. It was gaining on the Gelgoog fast, its own thrust overcoming the wild maneuvers of its foe.
At last the Gelgoog had enough, tossing aside its beam rifle long after the e-pac should have given out, and blasted towards the GM while drawing a saber. Its momentum impacted the GM's hastily drawn saber, rattling both units, though the GM had it worse. The Gelgoog threw a punch at its cockpit. Right before the fist landed, the barrel of the beam rifle stabbed into its chest, firing again and again at point blank.
Both fighters went up in a blast, immolated so thoroughly that not even ashes remained. A blast that was immediately outdone by the cruiser's reactor detonating, cracking the ship in half. By the time the shockwave hit, the GMs were already cruising back to their mothership, two barely intact units helping the legless mobile suit escape alive.
Mission completed.
Lights blinked off, the pods opened into the cool air of the bay. Turians climbed out of the rows of training modules, chattering amongst themselves as technicians went over the equipment, seeing to their comrades while heading to the briefing area. From three pods emerged humans, however, the aggressor pilots shaking off the post battle shivers to join the gathering.
Stacks of folding chairs were resting on the wall, all unused while the trainees formed an orderly line. Chatter and a few joking laughs withered under the gaze of an approaching Sergeant Torin, the scarred DI silently enforcing some order while the humans took their spots at the front of the gathering.
Rolling his shoulders, Shiro clapped his hands and put on a smile. "Okay, first off: great work, everyone. Even with the cheating, you guys kicked ass out there, and I'm real proud of you, Seras and Hochiel. No man left behind."
The two turians nodded in acknowledgement, one ribbing her groaning partner despite Torin's presence.
"I agree, great work. Only a few pointers this time." Hickam stepped forward, stabbing a finger at a trainee. "Fetel, you're still not doing enough to swivel your aim. This ain't a fighter plane. You can pivot your weapon around to hit behind you. That's how I nailed you. And Dieb, you stuck way too close with that saber. That close would have taken you with him. "
"Apologies, sir. I needed to save my remaining shots for the ship." The trainee in question replied.
"I know exactly why, but you should have gotten away the second you chopped me up. I'm glad you're exploring your other weapons, but you're rebounding from forgetting you don't have to fly in a curve." Hickam began to admonish him further, but a clap on his shoulder ended that speech.
"Just remember that you gotta stay on the move out there, avoid straight lines unless you need to. Otherwise, good shooting. Specially on the engines back there." Sanders took over, rolling his shoulders as Hickam quietly grunted.
"That drive charge time seemed normal sir, not sped up like the other training conditions." A trainee pointed out.
"My doing, with all the buffs they programmed into that run, I thought you could use a handicap. This jerk here wanted beam resistant armor and laser AA at the same time." Sanders jabbed an elbow at Hickam.
"I believe that one handicap was enough, sir." Another turian innocently noted, stiffly holding himself together despite Torin pacing.
A brief, muted chuckle rumbled through the ranks. Sanders fumed impotently while he scowled; Hickam muffling a grin, only served to ball his fists. Shiro loudly cleared his throat to end the teasing, facing the trainees once more.
"Alright, that's the last one for the day. You have forty minutes to review your footage before you join the technician courses. If you need a bite before evening chow, now is the time. Fetel, talk with Seras and Yuro about extra training. If you or anyone else wants some more one-on-one instruction, email me tonight for scheduling. Also." He clapped in sudden remembrance, not acknowledging Sanders trying to elbow him. "The next big training session is going to incorporate the new weapons R&D cooked up. They should have sent you messages about them already."
"You guys are gonna love sturmfausts." Hickam chuckled at Sanders rolling his eyes.
"We'll do some familiarity training on those, as well as squadron wide coordination ops. I talked to Armax, and he said all the listed units are online. We should have enough for everyone to get real flight time on the Bellonas, no Levana runs. If we're lucky, you can even try your luck against new human trainees. Questions? No? Dismissed." Shiro finished.
The class dispersed, turning to head towards the exits. Shiro muffled a chuckle at the recruits chatting and laughing among themselves in good spirits, the one he shot the leg off of getting ribbed again before pushing back. His friends took it in stride, he thought he heard another trainee offer to buy a bottle of alcohol. Discovering that alien brews were oddly minty wasn't something he ever expected to find out, as much as that test made Karla downright furious.
Overall, he had high hopes for this bunch. They learned fast and took to the changed doctrine well; in just three months, he was sure they were combat ready, at least compared to the vast majority of Federation pilots from the OYW. There were a few habits to unlearn still, but their performance under pressure was simply astounding. Not once during simulated combat had any of the squadron panicked. Even during operations training, they handled the changes of mobile suit controls with care, learning how to walk and move their new limbs in a short while. With Torin's help in particular, they left the introductory courses inside of a month, delving into the field of destroying enemy ships that much sooner.
With three months remaining until their deployment, he was confident the so called 137th PDF Defensor Squadron, to be renamed the 1st Mobile Suit Squadron upon graduation, was going to give the krogan a beating. Whichever fleet received them was going to become famous, he was sure of it.
There were just a few problems to sort out first.
"Ensign Arterius, hang on for a minute." Shiro called; he learned fast that phrasing things as an order caught their attention much better than asking, on duty anyway.
The indicated turian halted mid stride, freezing in place as his comrades departed a little faster than a second ago. He stayed there for a moment before slowly turning, eyes narrowed in spite of Torin going to Shiro's side, lethargically walking back to them.
When he was a body's length away, Shiro crossed his arms, aware of Sanders and Hickam pausing where they stood. The tall turian twitched a mandible, muffling a groan. "Yes, instructor?"
"Just wanted to say good work back there. If I hadn't doubled my ammo supply, I'm sure you would have nailed me sooner." He glanced to make sure the rest of the trainees were out of the room. In the process, he noted that the technicians were fixating on their tasks, trying to avoid listening in.
"Had you attempted to disengage, I would have destroyed you. Instructor." Arterius clasped his claws behind his back.
"Yeah, I assumed. That's part of the problem. Why did you tell your teammates to leave?" Shiro frowned.
"The objective was the cruiser. As long as I tied you down, the rest of the squadron stood a better chance of success, my own fire ensured you had no chance to safely disengage. I think it's rather obvious, instructor." He emphasized the role rather than his technical rank.
"That may be so, but with your teammates, you had the advantage. You could have destroyed me, then moved to the target that much sooner. Not to mention I took you with me, Ensign." Shiro shot back, brow creased. "I know you have the best scores of the squadron Arterius, but that was unnecessarily risky. If that was a live battle, we would be down one of our top pilots."
"One, my point about the squadron's mission stands. We turians are taught to put the group ahead of oneself. As Staff Sergeant Torin should have told you." Torin looked ready to ream Arterius a new one, but luckily Hickam quietly waved him down. "Two, the krogan don't have mobile suits, so this entire exercise is a waste of time. And three, I need you to explain what this 'we' is here. I and the squadron are going to war, you fled from yours. Instructor."
Torin appeared ready to shout, prompting Shiro to slowly nod. "Doesn't matter. You have teammates for a reason. Start relying on them. I'm scheduling more joint drills in the future, for the time being, work on your maintenance troubleshooting. Dismissed."
Arterius only nodded as much as he was required to, departing without another word. Shiro looked at Sanders and Hickam - both with frowns - and saw Torin keeping himself in check.
"What a dick." Hickam said after a minute.
"He won't have one after I PT the disrespect out of-" Torin paused when Shiro shook his head, shifting his weight to his prosthetic only long enough to take some pressure off his foot.
"That's enough. I'm gonna grind him with more team-building exercises. That'll be more productive." He stated, seeing the scarred turian growl. "Okay, maybe a little workout. We'll dress it up as training related…"
"Emergency post crash survival run. All pilots have to pass an evasion course, anyway. They should be due for a refresher." Torin said immediately.
"Sounds good to me. I heard that there's supposed to be some freezing cold mountains in the northern continent." Sanders added.
"I'll put in the request right away. Is that all?" At his nod Torin powered off, glowing with the vicious glee of a Drill Instructor given a chance to punish his charges.
"Well, they're dead." Hickam shrugged.
"But we still got a briefing to attend, cmon." Shiro stifled a tiny wince; his stump was starting to swell again. As he walked out, he waved to the technicians. "Hey, thanks for fixing the bugged screens."
"It's what we do, sir."
Mercifully, the walk to the office was a short one, enough that he totally dismissed Sanders quietly offering to help instead of spending a few seconds considering it. The trio passed by the main hangars. Shiro glanced through a viewport along the way. Three Levanas were in his view, being worked on although their purpose was essentially done. He heard scuttlebutt about turning them into museum pieces if the program took off, but more likely they'd be used as trainers or testbeds for new equipment.
The latter was more likely, seeing as after their bays were rows and rows of Bellonas, thirty-five operational units with another fifteen being constructed as they walked. Most were flight ready or would be shortly once the inspections were complete. Spare parts were being churned out despite an embarrassing incident a week ago, where a design flaw in the leg thruster was rectified and it accidentally made a whole batch of plates into scrap. For an untested program, the brass were putting a lot of effort into it.
Then Shiro mentally kicked himself; there were less than fifty mobile suits, even with the war the turians had an entire cluster of star systems to use. Especially now that the first large-scale human mining operation was underway; twenty thousand workers were busy in a system fifteen light years away, digging up enough resources to build a new O'Neill cylinder.
Seeing a Bellona move into a bay, Shiro restrained a shiver thinking about the Gundam that the team built, the Nerio. His technical knowledge made him realize the team had over-engineered the Nerio to hell and back, so he only flew it once after resolving another issue. It…
Gasping from the strain, Shiro widened his eyes at the meters, watching the speed climb to unbelievable levels. The Bellonas were left behind a while ago. The Levana didn't attempt to keep up, fearing engine burnout, but he continued to accelerate. The limbs moved extremely fast. He apparently didn't reduce the sensitivity enough, but he could turn on a dime with a far weaker pull than what he expected out of these numbers. These inertial dampers were a-
Beeping alarms almost caused him to kill the power, seeing the icons blaring heat warnings. Shudders from the hull told him the emergency coolant was cycling, dumping as much waste heat as possible before the whole machine burned up.
The comm line crackled with Nina's groan, coming from a frigate keeping pace nearby. "Don't tell me the radiator system broke again…"
From what Nina and Kasshu explained, the hard part was keeping so much energy in that machine from exploding. They already downgraded the reactor from the original plans and still it was overpowered, making the ever-growing list of design faults that popped up even more troubling than normal. Armax kept his true feelings hidden, but he was prepared to abandon the reactor completely, contending that their technology was insufficient. The systems weren't developed enough to meet the original specs. The old Anaheim notes weren't of much help, apparently they were an early draft rather than the newer version, perhaps taken before construction of the Mark II had begun. But even so, what they had in the facility was truly something else.
That thing was a monster, no doubt.
The only question was who would be its pilot?
By the time Shiro arrived, the rest of the main staff were present. Grissom crossed her arms and shot Shiro an unreadable look as he arrived. The conversation between Keith and Mackenzie quieted for a moment as they entered, as usual. Behind the desk Cincannato sat with several holographic screens hovering above the surface, Armax tracing a claw along one.
"Gentlemen. I trust it went well." Cincannato greeted just as a monitor dinged, the door closing behind them. The office itself was crowded with all of them present, although the spartan decorations (meaning practically nothing) gave a little more room. All that Shiro saw for a personal touch was a small potted plant that had a metallic crust, and a deactivated projector in the corner.
"They're getting better. A few still keep trying to treat the units like fighter planes, but they're making progress." Sanders reported in Shiro's place.
"You guys too? I ran down another trainee who didn't shoot behind him today. The worst part is he has phenomenal aim." Healy shook her head.
"It's a habit all right, but they're making great strides. At the facility I was trained at, two-thirds of them would have passed by now, pre-war I mean," Grissom said. "They did fine in the live course too. I even had the mechanics tamper with maintenance for some curveballs. All successes."
"I ask that you be careful with doing that. I found some instabilities with the Bellona's reactor feeds. Again." Armax exhaled as his mandibles twitched. "No, sir, we don't need to ground the entire fleet again. Reinforcing the power lines proved sufficient. Karla solved the short joint wear as well. Apparently it was a parts issue rather than a design flaw. The Virtual Intelligence predictive targeting system is the big challenge right now, as I just began explaining."
"Is it a critical problem? Primarch Quintus has been making more inquiries than usual. He seems concerned after that newest station purchase was canceled." Cincannato laid claws on the table.
"No sir, it's a software glitch that I can't seem to fix. Worse comes to worst, it can simply be omitted." Armax shook his head.
"Understood. You have all made solid progress. Good work." Cincannato nodded. "As scheduled, we'll cease blue-on-blue training and ground combat sims, and focus exclusively on anti-ship warfare from here on out. We'll have one or two more missions when the human trainees arrive, but for now, we're done with teaching how to fight enemy mobile suits."
"I still think it's a bit of a waste personally." Armax commented.
"Eh, maybe. But in six months we, the Federation I mean, went from having a couple dozen to thousands. Enough to challenge Zeon in open battle. Doesn't hurt to keep some skills in the toolset." Healy said back.
"I agree. We got a lot of mileage out of blue-on-blue sims, anyway. I suggest that the next batch have the same level of training time." Grissom commented, a little confidently, Shiro thought. He was sure this program was going to work, but if the brass decided no, that was all.
If nothing else, it would mean more mobile suits being bought by the colonies, bolstering the twenty units the civic council purchased to replace their now obsolete MS fleet. And all it took was canceling an order for a new water processor station, now that they were working on economics instead of relying solely on charity.
"I'll note that for the report. Now, I have been given a directive for the next training phase." Cincannato went on. "For the live flights, the trainees will be flying alongside the new frigates that were just commissioned. There's four battle ready hulls now, two retrofits and two altered during construction. Their beam cannons should synergize well with the MS weapons."
"Hey, have you heard who they're being assigned to?" Keith asked.
"Do you know if they're opening a new line at Trebia or moving the facilities here? I heard about the labor shortages on the news." Mackenzie inquired as well.
"I don't have anything concrete, but I've heard from reliable sources that the 1st Mobile Suit squadron and the new frigates will be joining the 79th Scout Flotilla," he said with noticeable pride in his voice. "As for facilities, some tooling is being relocated but the main production is going to remain in Digeris for the next few years."
The rest of the debriefing was more of the same, establishing the program's next goal and outlining what was on the schedule. It was the usual routine, making sure that everyone was on the same page, addressing any problems that had arisen, et cetera. Shiro brought up the survival training course, more in jest than as a practical suggestion, but it got across how things were going.
At the end, Cincannato dismissed them, allowing the humans to return to their quarters for the evening. Shiro stifled a yawn on the way out; these long hours were getting to him. But the prospect of a few weeks of leave coming up helped to keep him going; between the m-particle interference and the strict security measures, calling his family was out of the question, even if Texas wasn't a couple of light-hours away. Video recordings and letters had to work, although knowing that security reviewed his messages was annoying.
Once they entered their private wing, Shiro collapsed onto the couch, sprawling out to Keith's visible irritation. "Can you at least sit up?"
"In a minute." Shiro peeked to the main table, where Mackenzie was pouring over the technical data, waving Sanders over to help him with maintenance troubleshooting.
Healy yawned on his way to a shower, while Hickam opened the refrigerator; They shipped enough supplies in from Texas that they had no issues, but Shiro still felt uneasy about going overboard with food. Knowing that there were hosts of new greenhouses churning out crops helped, some were productive enough that talks had begun about livestock farming, so Aina's last letter mentioned. Space was at a premium, however, so he doubted that would happen. Not unless they found a planet of their own.
"Okay, that's enough learning turian for the day." Sanders leaned back after only a couple minutes, groaning at Mackenzie growling. As if he were reading his mind, he grunted. "Say, you guys think that the Hierarchy might gift us a planet?"
"You mean the colonies or specifically us?" Keith sighed when Shiro finally deigned to sit up, allowing him to drop.
"Really man? But yeah, the colonies. I can't speak for you spacenoids, but colony life loses its appeal after a while." Sanders spared a wince.
"Well, I can't say that you're wrong. I miss the rain." Shiro huffed, smiling a little. He never thought he would get nostalgic for Earth weather, but here he was.
"Sunlight is nice, I admit, but what I really miss is peace." Taking the seat beside the couch, Grissom slumped into the cushions, her scarred expression downcast. "Going about my day, occasionally investigating someone who was planning terrorism? It was nice. I didn't have to train people knowing they were going to war."
"Eh, you got me beat. I was gonna say steak. I haven't had a good beef cut in so long… but yeah, never thought I'd miss those tedious mining gigs." Keith slumped, too. "Kou loved it. He enjoyed being away from all the chaos."
"Heh, Karen hated it. She was bored to tears. The only time she wasn't grumpy was when she was screwing with zekes." Sanders chuckled, a thin hollow thing. "I always thought she didn't wanna go with us. That she only went along because the Titans smashed her old cell."
"Its why I did. Nothing to lose, and it wasn't like we could run to Axis." Hickam returned, balancing a few plates of warm bread and cheese that he handed out, smirking at Sanders when he didn't get any.
"I bet you and Daryl thought you could hijack Texas." He shot.
"It crossed my mind, but nah. Isn't this way closer to contolonism's teachings, anyway?" He took a seat and dug in.
"If you tried, I would've tossed your ass out of an airlock." Grissom warned, making him wave defensively. The hostility was only surface level. She picked up a remote with barely any enthusiasm.
The wall flickered with a displayed hologram, showing a news set with a turian announcer reading a report next to still images. Pictures showing destroyed ships, a nighttime view of a planet that was awash with infernos, and maps over star charts.
A translator made the speech understandable, though what the newscaster said was not encouraging.
"-Sixth Fleet and the Salarian Fourth fleet were defeated in battle at Silean Relay 87. Krogan losses are estimated to be upwards of 50 percent of the expeditionary fleet, however, multiple forces under Warlord Graken Dhal have entered the Apien Crest cluster. Several colonies in the vicinity have reported fleet movements, but no attacks have been reported yet. The First and Second Fleets are mobilizing to-"
Grissom paused the news, meeting no disagreement. Shiro just sighed. "I hope all this helps the turians. And the Citadel guys too."
"Yeah, things are rough out there." Mackenzie nodded slowly.
"…do you guys ever wonder how the krogan feel?" Upon getting several odd looks, she shook her head. "Never mind, just speaking my mind."
"Mm, haven't really thought about it all that much. Considering the attack on us, you know? Too many people died to shrug it off like that." Keith frowned.
"Yeah, good point. That was terrible. Unforgivable." Her voice trailed off. She wasn't looking at them when she stood up and left.
After a moment, Hickam grinned. "You know, since I have newtype potential, maybe I can talk them into-"
"Shut up and gimme." Sanders stole a cheese wedge before he could do more than growl.
Shiro ignored the squabbling, watching the turian news and pondering what Grissom said. "Would be nice to get along, wouldn't it?"
