The Armistice Station sits in the trailing Lagranage point of Earth. Far enough detached from the utilitarian territory of the Earth, and without the reach of the expansive Vers empire, who had not had an opportunity to expand to that part of Terran space.
Calling it an Armistice Station is an understatement, however. It is the former Castle Saazbaum, having been ordered to be re-purposed by the Count Troyard, under orders from his Majesty himself, to create such a station. Slaine found it easier to play host using a castle that's not his own, rather than construct a brand new station. His Majesty found this satisfactory, and so it was made the way that His Majesty found satisfactory.
Jessamine Ainzel stands in the grand conference room of the station, tablet in hand, in front of a dozen-and-a-half important looking ladies and gentlemen who look on him with various degrees of disgust, shock, dismay, and neutrality. One even has managed look angry with her, despite Jessamine having carried out this mission to the best of her abilities.
"Thus concludes my finding on what the United Earth should do, in the face of the Armistice Agreement expiring in fifty-seven days, eighteen hours, and forty-seven minutes from now." Jessamine speaks, confidently.
"You want us to surrender?" A voice asks.
"No, sir. I don't recall having presented my personal opinions on the matter, although I can if you'd like." Jessamine responds, tablet still in hand at the front of the darkened conference room. "I merely proposed, as my fact-finding and grass-roots information campaign has found, that we cede the land in a two-hundred statute mile radius around each landing castle."
"This is generally agreed upon by survivors inside their respective radii?" Another voice asks.
"Generally, yes. They currently live under Versian occupation anyways, and have for the greater part of the last two years."
Two years have passed since the second Mars-Earth war erupted. Jessamine knows this fact too well. She had survived the Seattle Landing, and had somehow managed to survive the war until this point as an intelligence broker. One who had made her way from the ruins of Seattle proper, out into the Cascadian wilds, and had made her way across from where the world ends, over the rockies, and across middle America to the remnants of UE regional Headquarters in Chicago.
She hadn't made it this long, just to be picked to death by the bureaucracy of UE as it decided how to spend its remaining days before the end of the Armistice spasming until its death.
"I should remind this council, that there is a ticking clock on the United Earth. Over a billion people died in the initial landings on Louisiana, China, Japan, Mozambique. Almost another half billion have died in the combat that has spread from the landing points. In those two years, various spearhead squadrons have managed to reclaim territory that was not landed upon or immediately occupied, but this was over the span of two years. And now, most of those units have been lost to attrition, desertion, turn-coats, or been transferred to different fronts in preparation for the Armistice expiration."
"Desertion?" The first voice echos.
"Yes, sir, desertion. Soldiers who realized that the battle was incredibly one sided, and that resistance was generally futile against the superior firepower of the Vers Kataphracts."
"What about what units we do still have?" The voice asks again.
"They have been reassigned either as guard units for the Armistice Station, or are in the space front as we speak, preparing for impending war, should this council fail to find an acceptable agreement with Mars… Well, all asides from one."
"'One'?" A third voice asks. "Where is he?"
Jessamine turns to look at the third voice. "He's currently in a medically induced coma."
"A coma?"
"Yes, ma'am." Jessamine sighs, hoping that she wouldn't have to cover this particular topic. "Ensign Inaho Kaizuka, of the UNE Deucalion, was gravely injured in a sortie against Castle Saazbaum at the UE Headquarters in Russia, that has left him injured and in the UE's care at the orbital hospital at Lunar Lagrange Point 3. One of the furthest points away from the Vers Empire's reach."
"Is there any hope for his recovery?"
"Not at present, maybe if we had the technology that Vers had, but its doubtful they'd be willing to share Aldnoah-compatible medicinal technology. Honestly I'm not sure. The state of Ensign Kaizuka was not under the purview of my investigation."
There are a few laughs at this quip, despite the dry, and rather uncomfortable topic of the injury of a young Ensign.
"However, this investigation wasn't limited to just the formal resistance. There is still a guerrilla war going on down there."
"How is Mars responding to it?"
"Formally, they're not. They are abiding by the Armistice." Jessamine responds to this even different voice. All manner of people seem to want to form opinions on all manner of things today. "However, informally, according to the grapevine, it sounds like they are executing clandestine, on-foot operations to counter guerrilla activity in occupied America, Mozambique, and China."
"How's that treating them?"
Jessamine smiles at this, knowingly. "Not well. I've not heard of any successful routing of any homeland defenders. But I've not heard how bad the Martians are being back-handed in these operations either. As far as the public is concerned, neither side is gaining or losing any ground. Mostly because those areas closest to the Landing Castles are patrolled by Martian Kataphracts, and ground-based Guerrillas don't have much punching power against the Martian Kats and ground soldiers. But they are holding their own, at least. Home-field advantage."
The rest of the meeting went on quietly, darkened voices asking questions to Jessamine's report, and then eventually dismissing her to the side of the room, as some other lackey was brought up to report on the economic status of the Earth Sphere as things were. Two years of fighting both terrestrially, and in orbit had driven nearly all economic growth to a standstill, and what growth there was, was focused predominately in the military sectors.
Which was, at least a little bit to be expected. Nearly all economic ventures had been driven to a halt when the landing castles took out the satellite and internet networks, leaving things like horseback or various ground-based communication, even things like encrypted radio communication beyond-visual range, the most effective way to communicate between various military bases and industrial development locations. Meaning that there were plenty of military machines that were able to be operated. But not nearly enough people to man them. KG-7 Areions, KG-6 Sleipnirs, and even the development of the unnamed KG-8 was rumored to be underway.
The lack of pilots, or even skilled pilots, meant that it was next to impossible to keep up with the Martian's own Kataphracts, leaving those who did fight in the Areions or Sleipnirs, immensely outclassed.
Jessamine left the report meeting, feeling very much like nothing would come of her report, and with a pretty bad taste on her tongue as she left, being thanked for her time.
She didn't pay much attention to her day from that point on.
She left the meeting silently, nearly. The only sound that could be heard from her, was the thud of the heels of her boots as she walked through the halls of the Landing Castle-turned-Armistice Station, her eyes drinking in her surroundings, but not paying attention to them until she nearly bumped into someone as she walked.
"Excuse me…" The Young Lady absently said, her eyes cast to the floor as she walked, against the flow of those who had reported in the meeting room; it almost appeared as if she was headed towards that meeting room.
"You okay?" Jessamine asks, stopping where she is, and the young lady does as well, the Lady looks up at her like she wasn't expecting to be talked to, or even asked questions of.
"I—" She starts, "Yes, I am…"
"You don't look it." Jessamine observes. The Young Lady is not only disheveled, but has applied the barest minimum of makeup in order to try and hide eye bags that were obviously the result of poor sleep, not just lack of sleep. She's wears a United Earth officer's uniform, but has long, unkempt hair that doesn't read like a military girl's haircut. "What's your name, where're you headed?"
"I'm Second Lieutenant Kaizuka." The lady says after a moment. And that's when things start to click for Jessamine.
"Oh my god. You're the elder sister of Ensign Kaizuka, aren't you?"
Kaizuka blinks at her, confused for the shortest of moments, "I am, why?"
"Mustang Squadron saved my life… I never thought I'd actually meet someone from it."
It was certain that the American winter had come to the shores of the Cascades, and had settled in nice and comfortably in the air around Rayet Areash. Clouds that would obscure the sky during the day, and hideaway at night. Which, at this point, having spent the last year in the cascadian wilderness, meant that she had grown used to the pattern. There wasn't much snow on the ground, but she was sure that winter was in fact, here. She was bundled up in a corner of an abandoned and dilapidated building, waiting. For what, she didn't quite know. Some indication from the world just beyond the burnt-out front of this once-bustling grocery store, that there was a reason to leave this place. There hadn't been one for the last two hours, so why move from this spot.
She brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, and tucked it behind her ear, readjusting the hood on her favorite (and only) hoodie around her head and then readjusted the way the rifle in her lap sat.
That was something that she still wasn't used to yet — the ever-presence of her trusty rifle.
Rayet had never grown up around firearms. Despite being a spy for the Vers Empire, Wolf Areash made it a personal note to never bring any of his work as a spy home. To keep some level of separation between his daughter and the treachery that he would inevitably undertake.
Of course this had failed. He had to eventually tell his daughter that the assassination of the princess was all his fault, and that for it, the two of them would be rewarded by the orbital knights accordingly.
What a crock of shit that had turned out to be.
She suppressed a shiver beneath her coat at the thought of her father. Something about his death would always sit wrong with her, would always send her into shivers and cold sweats when she'd relive it at night, waking up, barely suppressing a scream at the sight of her father standing before the Martian Kataphract, and then suddenly not being there at all.
She would see it still, in her nightmares — the hulking figure of Martian metal chasing after her, while she was helpless before her form. Sometimes it would catch her — and she would wake up in a cold sweat, clutching her rifle; as it was always close by. As if something as unwieldy as a sniper's rifle could do something to save her from the trauma that was obvious to her, but wasn't something she was willing to talk about with anyone.
Hence why she had volunteered to stay behind the main resistance cell, and try and set up a pincer attack against the trailing Vers soldiers when they would follow the main force into a valley in two days.
Rayet sighed, keeping her eyes scanning the horizon for any change, as she'd grown used to. Always watching to see if the trailing force would double back towards her.
For now, at least, it didn't look like they were, but that didn't mean that she could relax just yet. She would always wait until she could make sure that the force she was trailing had camped for the night, before she would try and get rest herself. She would only sleep for an hour or so at a time, waking up periodically in order to make sure that the Martians hadn't left her behind. And even if they had — she wouldn't be that far behind them with this sleep schedule. It didn't mean that she wasn't exhausted, but it did mean that she was alive enough to operate her gun, and that's what mattered.
She blinks, a stray snowflake melting against her eye as she does, having blown in from the outside.
She misses her KG-7, at least it would've kept her out of the elements, even if its engine was turned off to keep her hidden and silent. A thermal blanket from its emergency compartment and her hoodie would have been enough to keep her warm no matter what the temperature outside would be. Even if its Terran hulk meant that any real face-to-face engagement would cause her to lose her life. She was a sniper, not a spearhead soldier like that Terran boy.
She hadn't seen his body, but had heard the stories. Of how Inaho, the Spearhead of the Deucalion, had been shot in the head, and left for dead aboard the Landing Castle — of how the Princess of Mars had gone missing, but there was enough blood for two people on the deck of the Castle that day, and a trail leading further into the castle that no one was able to track completely, nor did they have time to.
That was nineteen months ago. And no one had heard from, or had found the Princess… The Armistice had been offered from the Martian side not long after Inaho had been shot, and the UFE had accepted it.
What a crock of shit that had been as well.
As soon as Rayet's stunt in the brig was over, and she was returned to civilian status — she had volunteered to be among those refugees headed for a UFE Shelter in the Seattle area. A part of the world she had never been to.
America.
That was eighteen months ago. She had arrived on the shores of Seattle, and rushed through the city to the refugee shelter underground, until she had found her niche.
She was one of the better snipers among those at the shelter; excelling in long-range firing drills, and being of great help tracking animals that had moved into the city as the human presence had been walked back. Bringing in a steady supply of food and of materials to keep the shelter alive.
Sixteen months ago, during the end of summer and the start of autumn, she had been around the circles of men who would leave the shelter often enough that she was considered a comrade; and a trusted one at that. She always seemed to know when the Martians were coming, where they had been, where they were looking. And despite the armistice, there were still rumors enough that the Martians were battling resistance cells, but that the UFE didn't have the resources or capability to strike back or punish the Martians for breaking the Armistice, even if it wasn't against "UFE Combatants".
She could remember having scoffed at this. The idea that the Martians would play fair at all, given the chance.
Eventually, the rumors became more than that, when an injured man; with half his face in bandages had shown up at the door of the shelter six months ago. He had been part of a non-UFE shelter that had been tracked by the Martians. He was the only survivor.
Five months ago, the shelter staff and the hunter parties had decided that it was only a matter of time before the marked UFE shelters were a target. Even despite the Armistice.
And that's how she ended up here; dozens of miles away from the Seattle area, away from the shelter, being a one-woman part of a two-fold plan to try and trap the soldiers that were chasing them down.
Part of her wished that things had been different, easier somehow. But they hadn't been, so she wasn't sure that they ever could be. The mere existence of her and her father on this planet had been pockmarked by the idea of one day, they would be pivotal in destabilizing the Earth enough to let the Vers empire move in for the kill. Meaning that no matter what, one way or another, her life wouldn't be anything close to easy.
She blinked again at what looked like a form moving along the tree-line, but was just a snow-covered brush swaying in the wind.
Maybe what she really needed was a nap. She shifted her rifle again, this time propping it against her shoulder and the ground, barrel leaning against the wall behind her. If she weren't so focused on trying to keep her attention outward, against the tree-line, she would fiddle with it. Maybe dismantle it and clean it using the small rifle cleaning kit she kept in her coat.
It was an old rifle, something that she thought she had seen in documentaries and movies from and about a period before the First Earth-Mars war, with stained wood hardware, and a stock that dug into her shoulder with every round fired. She'd gotten it from one of the men at the shelter, who served as the armorer for the hunting parties, and when she had shown aptitude for long-range shooting, where none of the men in the party had the experience or the steady hands to make it work. Her hands were just steady enough to make it work.
It was a gun with History, something that she didn't have, and it was somewhat ironic to her, or at least it would be in a different life, that she was the one who now carried this rifle, and used it against men and women who also didn't have History in much the same way she did.
She had never seen Mars. And with how things were going in her life, she likely never would. She wouldn't know Mars or Vers the same way that the soldiers that she was pursuing ever would, she would never have the same loyalty to that soil in the same way that the soldiers who had come from space would, even if those soldiers had never set foot on Mars either, what with the destruction of the Hyper Gate. They'd been raised in space, on stations and on landing castles, training their whole lives for the mission that was now laid out before them, to take Earth for Vers.
She hadn't.
Her father had never taught her to shoot. She'd learned it from games and movies, and then from watching the soldiers aboard the Deucalion. She'd never learned how to survive in the wilderness alone, the men of the hunting parties had taught her. She'd never learned how to make friends, they were made for her, and then lost for her. Her loyalty was neither to Earth or Mars. Yet, one would make the argument that she was fighting for Earth, by being one of the resistance cell members who were fighting against Vers. She wouldn't consider herself as fighting for Earth, so much as fighting to survive against those who would kill her without a second thought as to her allegiances.
There was distant shouting, that could be heard if ever so slightly above the wind that breezed into the store that she was taking shelter in. It was the Vers tracking party, a few buildings ahead of her, having finally decided to trek on forward through the dirt and mud that they were tracking her advanced party through.
The snow wasn't sticking, but it was cold enough to, so there were patches of snow below trees, and out of sight of any sunlight that would inevitably peek out and spill onto the ground. She waited for the shouting to die down, and the silence to wash back over the landscape before her, before she stood up, and decided to stretch a bit before following after the Vers party.
It would be easy to track them, considering they were mostly using vehicles to get around, lightly armored vehicles with treads that made the trek through the wilderness that much easier. So she didn't mind waiting a bit more, to make sure that they were well on their way and beyond eye-shot in order to start following them.
So she waits, rifle slung over her shoulder, while the rumbling of the tracks of the vehicles to dissipate into the distance before starting her own arduous trek after them.
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