Fury of the Jokers Wild

by CSS Stravag

Jokers Wild Set 3. After 400 years, the exiled Blue Cosmos gets their chance to come back to finish the purification of the Earth Sphere. Their mad quest to cleanse the human race will not go unchallenged by the worlds of the new Star Empires, and on one of those worlds, a runaway lady will take up the challenge... (Rated T: V, L, SC)

2. Escape and Evade

(Joker's Wild, Set 3: Fury Of The Jokers Wild)
(Chapter 01: Escape and Evade)

(6 February, CE 476, 1115 Hours Local Time)
(On the road to Hunter Airport, due west of the Brelle Mansion)

"Got it?" Jasmine Brelle asked.

Sionet destroyed the listening device by way of pulling one of the leads out of it — simply cutting it would be suspicious, but if it was to be torn out of its housing and one of the leads was disconnected, well, shit happens. "Got it," Sionet answered. The listening and tracking devices in every vehicle were not transmitting units, they fed back to a fairly easily accessible recording unit in the trunk that Sionet would rip the solid-state storage out of before she made her escape. Plausible deniability and all that.

That said, Sionet also wasn't worried about being recorded, she had gone over her mother's car more than once to find bugs and sabotage them. She left only the one recording unit in place to give the family a sense of false security in that regard, and now it was disconnected.

"Good, time for us to talk frankly." Jasmine sighed.

"You can come with me, mother," Sionet said. "No idea what we would do, but you can come as well."

"Sorry, daughter of mine, my heart is here with the Family. Jacob has never raised a hand to me, and neither of us have lost our love for the other. I know you are wired completely differently from the rest of the family, which is why I now know you have a future elsewhere."

"You know that?" Sionet asked archly.

"I know." Sionet looked at her mother quizzically. "Your elder sister is Jacob's daughter, you are and are not Jacob's daughter."

Adding up the results of that phrasing took Sionet roughly two seconds. "Jacob Brelle is not my father genetically," she said. "All this time I was raised to be a Mafiosi, and I have no claim to the bloodline?"

"Correct," Jasmine said. "Your sister was conceived and born from Jacob, but I was still dating at the time. You were conceived of an old highschool friend of mine that I used to love sleeping with before I met Jacob, and hence your sandy-blueish hair that Jacob thought was a regressive gene from way back in his family."

"Damn, that makes so much sense now," Sionet said. "I never felt right in the business, now I know it's because my heart truly belongs elsewhere. So, what do I need to know?"

"Here," and Jasmine pulled a small velvet bag out of her bra strap and handed it to Sionet. "There is a flash drive in the bag. Disassemble it."

"Disassemble it? Serious?" Sionet asked. She knew it was her mother's favorite drive for family pictures, and disassembling it risked destroying the dataspace contained within.

"Do it. I have five backups of that drive around the house and in the safe, but that drive is unique."

On inspection, it turned out the drive in question was physically bigger than average for a standard-capacity (4 petabyte) flash drive, which immediately made Sionet suspicious. So, she used her pocket knife to pop the case of the flash drive open. On the inside of the drive was a piece of paper with what appeared to be a standard telephone number and two numbers below it.

"A phone number and two other numbers."

"A phone number and a control number, that is a continuous number," Jasmine corrected.

"Do I call it?" Sionet reached for her phone, but never put a hand on it.

"Not with a phone given to you by Kenny, it'll have more spyware and backdoors than a hacker hideout," Jasmine cautioned her. "Break out a ten c-bill, we'll hit a gas station for a burner."

"Gas station coming up," Sionet pointed to it. "I've got this," she flashed a ten she kept handy.

"Give me your phone, I'll put both our phones in your suitcase. The next conversation is for our ears only." Sionet handed off her phone to her mom and made for the gas station fairly quickly. "And get a pack of those Hostess Cupcakes!" Jasmine shouted at her daughter.

Sionet was back to the car in less than five minutes with a prepaid burner phone (6.99 c-bills), two packs of the Hostess Cupcakes (0.25 C-bills each), and two 40-oz soft drinks (0.10 c-bills each). She juggled the change in an attempt to get it in her pocket for a moment, until she gave up and dropped the change component in the cupholder of the car and slipped the two C-bills into her right bra band for safekeeping.

"We've got another 40 minutes to the airport, once we're done with the important call and a second very important call, we'll call forward to the airport to reserve a seat over to Hagerstown on Dendez," Jasmine said.

"Okay, give me a few to get this phone set up and activated." Sionet used her pocket knife — a switchblade stiletto — to cut open the typical clamshell package and free the phone from captivity. (Petroleum products were now back en vogue courtesy of the massive oil stocks here on Carver V, hence the resurgence of the universally-reviled clamshell package.)

The car was somewhat silent for a few minutes while Sionet worked through the menu tree on the phone to get it running. During that time, she noticed that Jasmine was smiling about something, and that notice generated an answer unbidden: "I know what you're going to ask. The Brelle Mafia — hell, most of the Mafia Families — devalue technology over the old ways."

"Yeah, Mafiosi are so wrapped up in tradition they run a risk of falling behind the times," Sionet said.

"Well, I'm glad to see you are not so bound by the traditions here that you can step away from them. And your father would have been helluva proud to see it."

"I'm guessing from the phrase 'would have been' that he's gone?" Sionet asked. Only then did Sionet notice a tear on her mother's right cheek, which confirmed enough of her suspicion. "What happened?"

"Training accident, about a year after you were born," Jasmine answered the question after a minute of silence. "His Gundam had an engine failure while he was underwater, by the time his training partner reached his machine it was already too late."

"So, father was a Gundam pilot? Awesome, that's what I wanted to do, now I have to find a way to make it happen," Sionet said as she finished up the last of the settings and the phone began a BIOS update.

"And that would have made him even more proud."

Sionet set the burner phone down in the cupholder next to her absurdly large drink and reached across the console to hug her mother from the side. "Thank you for keeping this from me until now, and thank you for having the courage to let me go my own way."

"I'm giving you the chance to make your own road, Sionet. It's the only proper thing I can do, even if I will have to help hunt for you after the fact." The phone chimed to signal readiness. "Let's get to it."

"Okay, so I call the first number?" Sionet asked.

"After you call it, nobody will answer, just an automated system. Wait for the second chime, then enter the number right to left, top to bottom."

"Wow, that's some serious security measures." Sionet dialed the number, sent it, and put the phone on speaker. True to her mother's estimation, the system chimed, paused for a minute, and chimed again. Sionet had to concentrate to make sure she did the number entry right, but did achieve her dialing goal on a keypad she figured was a bit small for what she paid for.

A few seconds after the last number entry, the system chimed again, then gave a tone that made fair to remind Sionet of a military radio. "Attention caller for program 383-BLUE, this is AI PALADIN. Please identify yourself and state intentions."

"PALADIN, Jasmine Brelle calling from burner phone, codex 03-10-4846-5608, control number 13308, authenticate voice."

"Authenticated. Please state your intentions, Jasmine."

"PALADIN, requesting execution BLUE SHADOW for one person not myself," Jasmine said.

"Your younger daughter, Sionet?" PALADIN asked.

"Confirmed," Jasmine said.

"Verifying now, standby," Paladin went silent for a moment. "BLUE SHADOW is authorized. Is Sionet available to discuss this matter?"

"I am here. Sionet Brelle, codex 03-10-4846-6515, control number 658524," Sionet said.

"Sionet, your voice is recorded for the purposes of further authentication. Welcome to the 383 Program. I am AI PALADIN, a Commando Caste construct AI put in place to help combat the Mafiosi on New Home and Carver V. Before we continue, I want to verify that you are running from the Mafiosi and have no intention in following their ethos?"

"Definitely. The life of the Mafiosi is not a life that should be inflicted on the unknowing, and this world can't be ruled at two levels running at cross purposes. This has to end."

"Understood, and agreed," PALADIN said. "Program BLUE SHADOW was drawn up to allow those relatives of Commandos who were entrapped by the Mafiosi to escape their circumstances and either disappear from the Mafiosi, or turn witness to their proceedings as a way to bring down the various criminal empires around Carver V or New Home. What is your personal end-goal on this matter?"

"I would prefer to disappear, but I am not object to burning the house down as a way to ensure I am untouched in that disappearing act," Sionet said, and in so saying a massive weight was lifted from her heart and soul. She was now on the road to freedom, and if she had to tie a Sword of Damocles above the heads of the Brelle Mafiosi, such was the price of freedom.

"Understood. We will work on contingency plans and a fail-safe after you have arrived at your overnight location. Know that many of the Commandos side with you in this matter, Sionet, and are willing to help you disappear into a new life and new circumstances. The shape of the future is not yet known, but know that there are options, and that you are not alone."

"Thank you, PALADIN," Sionet said with some relief in voice.

"Jasmine, as you intend to stay on the inside, there will be no direct route of communication going forward. Options will have to be explored after the furor of searching for a runner dies down. If something happens, the usual chain will report it."

"Understood," Jasmine answered, which immediately set Sionet to wondering what 'the usual chain' meant in this case.

"I have tickets reserved for you under your current names to Hagerstown, and a hotel reserved for you at your usual stop. You will be met at your favorite ice cream parlor for the next phase. Do not call forward to your friend on the inside, I will arrange all the materials on my side."

"Thank you," Jasmine said.

"Freedom waits for all who are fleet of foot and sure of hand. We will help you find the way. PALADIN is out."

-x-

(5 minutes later)
(Commando Administration Headquarters, Quantico Island, Carver V)

"Elaine, in here!" Star Colonel Mindy shouted from her desk. Her Admin Assistant was not overlong in coming into the office and instinctively closed the door behind.

"What's floating today, chief?" Elaine asked between sips of high-horsepower coffee. Through a combination of very selective cross-breeding and some genetic engineering (and some would say some black magic rituals), Carver V had become home to a very potent blend of coffee with something on the order of 3.5 to 4 times the caffeine of typical brews from Terra. It quickly became a favorite of the Commandos as a morning crutch to keep themselves going after frequent long nights and longer days.

"Just got a package, 383-BLUE." Mindy picked the instruction sheet up off her printer. "You have a friend Jasmine Brelle, right?"

"High School friend — wait, that 383-BLUE, is it her?" The cross-link between the two subjects gave her an instant wave of hope that her friend was going to get herself out of the line of fire. The Brelle Mafia Family wasn't the most violent or offensive of the many families on Carver V, but they certainly were not saints by any measure.

"Not Jasmine herself, her daughter, Sionet Brelle." Mindy handed over the instruction sheet to the Star Commander that served as her adjutant and as her pointwoman for the 383-BLUE program.

"Gods damn, about time she spirited that maverick out of the line," Elaine said with some reverence.

"What's the link? According to the write-up on Sionet, she was born four months after Jasmine and Jacob Brelle were married," Mindy prompted her.

"Leon Neider." Elaine didn't have to say anything more than the name of the devil in this case, as five seconds after she closed her mouth, the shock of the matter set in for the Star Colonel.

"Gods Damn indeed, I knew Leon liked to live dangerously, but that's a whole new level of gambling. Banging a lady that is seeing a Mafiosi boss, wow," Mindy said.

"Leon and Jasmine were an item well before Jacob Brelle was on scene, I remember them romping back when we were in high school." Elaine dismissed that readily. "If anything, I would say Jacob muscled his way in while Leon was out on duty rotations. What this does mean, though, is that Jasmine was technically-yes-technically-no cheating on Jacob Brelle during their engagement which resulted in her middle child — Sionet — and this situation." Jasmine had made sure to have Sionet's bloodheritage tested after her birth, which confirmed to the Commandos that she was the daughter of Leon Neider and thus eligible for the benefits of the 383-BLUE program.

Of course, that also meant that there was a metric assload of subterfuge involved with Sionet from birth, and essentially dual recordkeeping for her pertaining to both her life lived and the identity she was about to be introduced to.

And now, there would have to be even more subterfuge involved. "A situation we now have to work on," Mindy commented with an arch of the eyebrow. "Are you comfortable taking this one on? You know them both, I take it?"

"Oh yes, I've met Sionet," Elaine confirmed. "When she was younger, she used to call me 'Auntie Elaine'. I'll take care of this, since they're coming to Hagerstown I know just exactly what to do."

"Then make her disappear," Mindy said. "Pity, though, her scores on sim pods aren't all that great," the Star Colonel said with some dejection. "If she was half again as good as her father, I'd throw her in a cockpit and see what she could do for real."

"No idea if she is even interested in piloting," Elaine responded with a shrug. "I don't recall her ever saying anything about it. If she is, though, would you be willing to give her a shot if she can get her scores up?" the Admin Assistant Star Commander asked.

"She's got a long way to go before I could even inquire without embarrassing myself." Mindy waved a tablet at her assistant, who took it and read over the numbers.

"Huh. That is pretty abysmal, but I noticed a critical detail here," Elaine prompted her CO.

"Ho? Hit me," Mindy said.

"These results are a minimum of nine years old. She would have been eight at the time of her last bout."

Mindy took the tablet back and checked the dates of the listed scores. A little mental math confirmed the observation, which meant something else: "Ho, I think that changes the score. If she pulled numbers like that at eight, that tells me she may have an aptitude. That also means that her non-biological father realized the same thing those years ago, and has kept her out of the pods around the planet to dissuade her. Still not enough for her to make the grade right in the door, though. If she does start pulling decent scores, I'll have to take a look."

That gave Elaine hope for the future of Sionet. She would not know for some time that it also gave Sionet hope for her own future, uncertain though it was.

-x-x-x-

(6 February, CE 476, 1830 Hours Zulu time)
(Allster Enterprises Orbital Station Freya, in orbit around Home Terra)

"This is going to be a big freaking bugaboo if I get it out of the bay and the damn thing falls apart the first time I try reefing it into a hard turn," Cordelia said flatly. "Are you sure you want to try to hang on as a taxi ride?"

"Someone has to be available to rescue you if shit hits the fan," Annette said. "Besides, the ZERO system in my Epyon would be perfect to help predict if something tries to fall off during this test flight."

Cordelia tilted her head for a moment, then nodded. "Can't argue with that one. Mount up, we're rolling in thirty."

"We don't have clearance yet," Ray pointed out.

"We'll never get clearance," Cordelia pointed out. "My sisters are terrified this project might actually work as intended on paper, so they'll do their damndest to stonewall it — have done their damndest to stonewall it from the word 'go' and the only thing that has prevented them from burying it is the fact that they put me in charge of the Research group."

"Can't argue with that one," Ray responded in kind.

"We're going to get an ass-chewing when they find out," Annette said.

"No guts, no galaxy," Cordelia prodded Annette with her favorite catchphrase that she had learned from Annette to begin with.

"Well, we ride at 1900, then," Ray nodded, then pushed off the wall next to himself, headed for the pilot's ready room by floating since they were in an area of the station with no artificial gravity.

"We'll be out there." Annette made to follow Ray shortly thereafter.

Cordelia sighed. "Make or break time. Let's see where this goes." Cordelia went the other direction, toward the door into the central pressure bay nearest her Gundam.

Getting in and out of the bay was simple — the pressure was still up in the bay, so the personnel hatches were immediate open — and she pushed over to her waiting Dendrobium Stamen. Her crew chief was waiting for her arrival and helped guide Cordelia into the waiting Gundam. "Thanks, Jones," Cordelia said as she took position in her seat and harnessed herself in.

"Lookin' forward to this ride, Miss Allster. This has been a long time coming," Albrecht Jones said. "Mix tape today?"

"Give me the synthwave tape. No gun action today, no heavy stuff," Cordelia caught the data drive with her synthwave music mix and inserted it into the radio panel.

"Good luck, boss," Jones gave her a brief salute, closed her cockpit hatch from the outside and was on the way to the personnel door that Cordelia had just vacated.

Cordelia Allster, 17, took a moment in the dark silence of her closed-up cockpit to reflect on the shape of her life, and decided that if something went completely in the shitcan today, at least she lived well and tried hard. The same could not be said of her sisters, Leene and Rosette, she figured. Both of them were skating in terms of doing anything meaningful with their lives, and much as she figured some seven years ago, it was their brother Geoffrey that was doing the dirty work in keeping the Allster Conglomerate from disintegrating under piss-poor management. At least Geoffrey had the sense to leave running the research department to her, Cordelia figured; one less thing for the overworked brother to worry about. In addition to the prototype mobile interceptor she was about to test drive, her research management was improving the manufacturing processes throughout the company by notable percentages, so room from complaint by the sisters was minimal at best.

There were prodigies in the Engineering world younger than her, and experts older than her, but so far as the history books showed, nobody had tried completely 'beefcaking' the Dendrobium platform as she had designed. So, today had three outcomes as far as she could tell: One, everything worked as she engineered and she would make a name for herself overnight. Two, something minor happened to the craft and she would have some engineering to re-sum (and some explaining to do), but nothing catastrophic and the show would go on. Three, the craft folded itself during the Trials and she would be killed in the ensuing FUBAR, or she survived the complete disintegration of her efforts and would then be exiled / disowned / voted off the island / some other nefarious fate yet to be determined. Whichever way things went, she knew deep in her soul that this was the make-it-or-break-it moment for her.

Cordelia slapped the engine startup button on her powerplant console. A meter behind her and three meters above, the dual-stage fusion reactor in her Dendrobium Stamen roared to life, first as a standard 'Deuterium-burner' fusion engine, then after the system heated up for 90 seconds, the second stage of the engine kicked in and started fusing the helium produced by the first stage into Beryllium and some extra gamma radiation that was mostly stopped by the super-magnetic containment of the reactor, but a fraction of which still ended up stopped by the engine toroid. Idly she checked the maintenance logs on her engine panel and verified that her reactor plating was not yet due for replacement, she still had 850 running hours before her engine would need a pull and overhaul at a dedicated engine MRO/CRO (1) outfit. (Replacing engine shielding was possible underway, but since Allster purchased its engines from other manufacturers, those engines all came with MRO contracts to go along with their standard warranties, so she figured it best to let a specialist do that job.)

The inside of her cockpit lit up in the seconds after the first stage of the engine kicked in, and with it the panoramic monitor system first used in the original Gundam Dendrobium Stamen lit up and revealed the surroundings of her Gundam. She flipped a switch on her radio console to activate the external speakers, then depressed the radio button. "Stamen is online, all personnel not in normal suits need to clear the central bay. Go-time is 1900 hours, depressurization starts in 10 minutes."

As the personnel cleared the bay (both in and out of normal suits — they all knew better than to be in the bay during a launch), Cordelia moved her Gundam to the front end of the massive Dendrobium Orchis II-MN, aligned the Stamen to the docking bay for the Mobile Interceptor, and thrusted down into it. The Stamen went into the armor to mid-chest and locked in place, then the Stamen's backpack lugs locked into the top of the Orchis frame, so her arms, shoulders, and head were sticking out of the front of the Dendrobium but the rest of it was under armor. As soon as it connected, the Stamen lashed up to the normally-unmanned Orchis and activated the fusion engine inside the massive Mobile Interceptor. 120 seconds later, the Orchis was powered up and all systems checked ready.

"Orchis, Epyon, entering the bay now. Ray is right behind me," Annette declared.

"Remember, guys, the maximum acceleration of the original Orchis is 5 Gs, and the Magi upgrade we all know and love is 6 Gs. This monster will get 7 Gs if I uncrack the throttle. Hope you are ready for it."

Cordelia heard the clanging of the Epyon latching onto specially-designed hold points on the back of her Mobile Interceptor through the frame of the unit. The Dendrobium IIM was designed to carry a Star of five MS and then or twenty Armored Marines, but Cordelia's much larger unit could transport 15 on easy and up to 20 in a pinch as well as a full Binary of Marines.

"Don't have a choice," Annette said. "If we're going to save your ass from a serious case of estrogen overdose, we're going to have to hang on for dear life."

"Gods' honest truth, that," Ray said before he latched on. "Ready op."

"Orchis, Freya Control, bay is still depressurizing, ETA 12 minutes to launch."

"The waiting game begins!" Cordelia said, but not in frustration as would be expected of her phrasing. In fact, she sounded a bit chipper about the delay.

-x-x-x-

(7 February CE 476, 0300 Hours UTC)
(FireStar Space Defense Station, Zenith Jump Point, Sol star system)

"Carrier Ecuador, this is FireStar Space Control, you are cleared to dock at Waypoint Station 2, recharge connection 2, contact Waypoint 2 on frequency 185.35, how copy?"

"FireStar, Ecuador, cleared for dock Waypoint 2 recharge connection 2, contact Waypoint 2 on 185.35, solid copy all. Thank you for the hospitality FireStar. Ecuador is out." The radio connection closed audibly.

"She's a decent-sized sucker," the STC Chief Controller (2) said to the STC Operator who gave the movement instructions.

"Million and a half, she'll turn some heads," the Operator answered, referring to the mass of the South American class of carriers, of which the Ecuador was number two ship of the line.

"Ever see Mendel come through?" the Chief Controller asked.

"Neg, only been here four months. She's due in now," the Operator pointed out the entry on the schedule board pertaining to said ship, and that the 0300 arrival window at the Zenith Point was for her.

"May be running late to jump out from her prior loca — " the Chief Controller noticed a plasma flare on the viewscreen for the Zenith Point. "Here she comes. Eight and a half megatons of men, machines, and diplomacy."

The Operator chuckled as the plasma flare from arrival of the behemoth Ultra-Carrier Mendel highlighted its length a moment before a final burst of plasma flare presaged its arrival. The arrival or departure of any ship larger than 2.5 million tons had to be tightly scheduled solely because the radius of influence from the massive jump core in such ships could shred smaller vessels in the vicinity on arrival or departure. Not to mention having one ship jump into another ship at the jump point was a costly and fatal mistake for both ships, and with the Mendel, that could be a fatal mistake for 14,000 persons.

"Hot damn, that is a sight," the Operator said. "Want me to handle her?"

"Neg, I've got this," the Chief Controller picked up a headset and dialed it into the arrival frequency. "Attention Warship Mendel, this is FireStar Space Traffic Control. Welcome home to Home Terra. What's your pleasure, Star Admiral?"

"FireStar, Mendel, Star Admiral Poro Andras speaking. Thank you for the welcome mat, STC. Ship is headed into our home port for Mobile Forces shuffling and expendable restock, how copy?"

"Copy all, Star Admiral. You are cleared immediate egress Zenith point, arrival lane 3 for transit to Sol orbital plane with mid-course correction for ingress L4 colony area, contact FireStar Mendel Station when on approach to colony cluster, how copy?"

"Immediate egress Zenith, arrival lane 3 for transit and mid-course correction for L4 colonies, contact FireStar Mendel on approach, Mendel rogers all. We are oscar mike (3) and ready for some shore leave, have a good morning FireStar. Mendel is out."

All eyes in the STC were on the Mendel as she rotated on the Z axis to face nose toward the Sun, zeroed her rotational inertia, and immediately laid in 1G continual burn to head in. Transit from the Zenith point would take some 7.5 days for the ship at 1G continuous burn and a mid-course correction with retro-burn to slow down to a decent arrival speed. She could do 3Gs continual burn between planets, though this was not commonly used because of the massive quantities of fuel this burned in a day's engine burn, but the option was there if needed.

"Man, that thing is a beast!" The STC Operator recognized the voice of the radio officer from the Ecuador on the channel.

The Chief Controller keyed his mike. "No joke, Ecuador. We just hope we never have to use it."

"We all hope that, STC," Star Admiral Andras answered. "If we ever do get to the point of using this ship, it is officially a bad day."

"Some day, we'll build something in that league. Some day. Safe travels, Mendel. Ecuador is clear on the channel."

"Aye, safe travels to you as well Ecuador. Mendel is out."

The radios in the area of the Zenith point fell silent afterwards. "Well, that was something," the Operator said.

"God willing, we never have to use her in anger before the Days of Ragnarok," the Senior Controller said. "I did two tours on her as a flight controller. Saw some good times, saw some bad times, helped a pilot propose to a deckhand and watched a couple of our boys never come home. At the end of the day, though, the stars just keep on shining."

"Seyla," the junior operator answered.

Neither operator nor chief controller knew that they would be witness to the Mendel in action in their lifetimes. Eyewitnesses, at that.

-x-x-x-

(6 February, CE 476, 1930 Hours Local (BC Standard) Time)
(Blue Cosmos Pilot Academy Newground, North American continent, Blue Terra)

Attrition and wash-outs had pared down the 355 class from 40 to 20 students.

"Good evening, cadets!" Colonel Hank Jeffries said on the radio. "Listen up, I'm only going to say this one time. You have a 40-kilometer Rhodesian Walk to execute. There is no fixed path, no recommended path for this walk. You only know your position and your destination, and that will be sufficient to get you home. Good to go?"

"SIR!" Kevin half-shouted.

"There are twenty of you, and there are a grand total of 120 targets in the engagement zone. Minimum score to pass this training engagement is 5 targets. That said, this is a scored event, not a pass/fail. The top five get moved up for issuance of Gundams, the bottom five will either have to repeat LONG ARM training, or will be failed out if your scores are insufficient for a retake. You do not have to stop at five targets, and are encouraged to go beyond five. Also, the order in which you arrive at the end nav point will reflect on your scores as well. Good to go?"

"Sir!" Sylvie said.

"Lead scores right now are Sylvie Stonebridge and Kevin Azrael. They are the two to beat. Final notice: you are carrying war-shots, all of your weapons are at full strength and all of your Gundams are tuned for combat. Be careful of your targets and what is beyond them, I do not want to have to write any letters to family about how someone else on the battlefield was stupid and committed a blue-on-blue. Good to go?"

"SIR!" multiple of the trainees answered.

"The timer starts in ten seconds…" the radio channel was quiet for a few good heartbeats, then: "Begin!"

The twenty Training Gundams jetted forward into the combat area, each of the machines was spaced apart from the rest to minimize direct conflict or blue-on-blue shoots, but the way these exercises went there would always be some that crossed paths at some time during the exercise. The one thing he had not made mention of, half of the machines were rigged with pre-planned failures of hardware that would make things more challenging, but not impossible for the cadets.

-x-

Kevin Azrael had jumped off from the IP with a vengeance, and in his first kilometer of travel had already racked up two points — a Strike Dagger MS (cutout) and a Von Luckner IIM (simulate) both fell under his beam rifle shots in a hurry. Three kilometers later, he did a point of Armored infantry with beam rifle shots, though the five troops would have been a significant threat on their own, the whole point counted as one point for scoring.

And then there were the others in the competition…

"How're you doing so far, hot shot?" Sylvie asked by private radio link. Kevin had set up a preset for trash-talking between the top five pilots in the unit, and that included Sylvie, whom he had to admit was just a hair better than he was.

"Three points and five kilometers in," Kevin admitted. "You?"

"Only two points but seven kilometers forward. My route may be a bit thinner, which works to my advantage," Sylvie said.

"Yeah, you're not constantly scraping your hips on the foliage and obstacles, but damn you could use an upgrade, reel in some guys," Emilea Leeds, the number 4 cadet in the class, said with some cheer and a large helping of tease.

"Like I said, not the road I'm taking to command rank, girl," Sylvie commented sharply. "Ah! Got another! Up to three points now."

"Just waxed my third," Tania reported. Tania was the flat number four of the group, and not at much risk of gaining a position — her and Emilea were fairly evenly matched, even if they would not acknowledge it.

Kevin caught sight of a Mobile Suit concealed in a stand of trees, so he took sight on it — and immediately hesitated. The silhouette did not match one of the machine types that Mendel was expected to have, so he did not fire. It was a prescient move, given that a few seconds after the had sights on the target, it jetted out from the tree stand and continued on its way.

"That was close, kid," Instructor Barker commented. "Good call not shooting a friendly."

"It didn't feel right, so I held off," Kevin admitted.

"Trust your gut," Instructor Barker confirmed the lesson. "If something feels wrong, better to fall back and assess rather than do something stupid and end up headed home in a pine box — or a matchbox, if that's all that remains."

"Affirm, sir," Kevin put his jets on and blasted forward toward the rally point but made sure to follow a different course from the track the other cadet took.

Three kilometers farther north, Kyle had his fourth and fifth points of the match, making him an instant pass. He would score more points on the way, and would cement his lead in the Cadet standings. He would have more 'feelings' as his training went on, but since the ethos of Blue Cosmos had been poisoned against Psionics and Newtypes, he would never properly understand or harness those skills.

-x-x-x-

(6 February, CE 476, 2130 Hours Local (Kileska West) Time)
(Western Pass National Parkland, Kileska Continent, Planet Carver V, Protectorate of Mendel)

"Hudson Center, Mike-Sierra-0-7-5-1-Romeo, reading five by five. Send your traffic," Shinta answered the call for comms from the air traffic control group at Hudson Bay Naval Air Station, of which Hudson Center had final say over the entirety of the continent of Kileska.

"Zero-Seven-Five-One-Romeo, be advised that we show your flight time since last Crew Rest has been fifteen hours twenty minutes, are you in a location where it is safe to set down for downtime?" the flight controller asked.

"Hudson, Zero-Seven-Five-One-Romeo, stand by while we check the area out."

"On it," Tsukiko slipped on a pair of night-vision goggles she had bartered off a farmer in years past as payment for some extensive repairs to a couple of his auto-harvesters. A return visit six months later netted her some cash that time as well as an ancient and highly-collectable AK-47M from the cold war era on Terra. Her proficiency with that rifle was uneven at best, but Shinta was damn good with the old war-horse.

The search for decent landing area only took them some 20 seconds. "Got one," Shinta pointed left at a large clearing. "There, between two stands of Coalwood trees."

"I see it, that looks flat enough. Call it in," Tsukiko said.

"Stick's yours," Shinta said as he switched back to the radio. Tsukiko rotated the craft to head toward the clearing in question. "Hudson, Zero-Seven-Five-One-Romeo, we have eyes on a clearing in Western pass that looks suitable for landing this old bird in. We're headed for it now, will be in position for landing in 30 seconds, over."

"Zero-Seven-Five-One-Romeo, Hudson, copy all, give us a final position when you are down. Do you want a radio wake-up call in ten hours?"

"Affirm, Hudson." Shinta took control of the stick again, eased the craft to a hover over the chosen landing zone, and started slowly reducing collective until the craft started descending. Tsukiko switched her monitors over to the landing cameras to make sure there were no obstructions waiting for them, and assured clear, gave her brother two pats on the shoulder to signal clear. The landing process took another thirty seconds, then the craft jolted first in the rear, then at the nose when the landing gear touched down. "Hudson, Zero-Seven-Five-One-Romeo, confirm touchdown and shutdown 1933 hours local, coordinates transmitted on our transponder channel. Have a good evening, control."

"Zero-Seven-Five-One-Romeo, Hudson, copy last and have a good evening. We'll catch you on the flipside, pilot. Hudson is out."

Shinta sighed. "I figured we wouldn't make it home before Hudson Center grounded us for crew rest," he grumbled.

"Not the first time we've had to overnight in this national preserve, brother," Tsukiko said before she flipped her radio over to a reserved frequency and activated her home-made encryption system that matched an encryption module attached to the base station radio she intended to call. "Sakato Residence from Repair Bird, Sakato Residence from Repair Bird, anyone on the channel?"

"Repair Bird, Sakato, what's going on Tsukiko?" Yuuki asked. Yuuki was a late addition to the Sakato family, being only 8 years old compared to Shinta's 19 and Tsukiko's 17 years, and altogether a very welcome surprise for the entire family all those years ago.

"Yuuki, please tell mother that we've been grounded by Hudson Center for crew rest, we're out in the Western Pass National Preserve. We're down for 10 hours, and once we're airborne again we have another four to go to get home."

"Repair Bird, Sakato, I heard;" this voice was the voice of Yuna, their mother. "Rest easy, daughter. The homestead isn't going anywhere."

"If a building did move, I would worry," Shinta said on the radio link. "Any news from home?"

"Hai, your repair certification for A&P is in, you passed the final exam with a 97," their mother answered. "Instructor Hobbes wants you for his trainers, I told him that I would let you know."

"Did he say what kind of price?" Shinta asked reflexively, but he knew the answer:

"You know I would not ask," Yuna chided her eldest child. "He did not volunteer a figure, but he did say he would make it worth your while."

"That could mean more than a few things, mother," Shinta pointed out the variability of his phrasing. "Still, once I get home, I've got some calls to make. Thanks for the update."

"Also, Tsukiko, message from Miku: Blade three, core 3 is offline, best as she can figure it is a processor burnout."

Tsukiko sighed. "I swear, my AI entities are hell on hardware," she grumped. "Still, this is the price I pay for running multiple Open-Source AI frameworks on a server blade farm instead of a proper quantum mainframe."

"Some days, 'go big or go home' still isn't big enough," Yuna said pensively. "Nothing else going on at home. Sleep easy, both of you. Will you want a full breakfast when you get in?"

"No, just some munchies, we've got stuff in the fridge here on the chopper," Shinta said. "Anything else, mom?"

"That is all. Love you two. Sakato Residence is out."

Tsukiko killed the radio link. "You can hit the shower first, I'll get the cots set up."

"Keep an ear out for any screaming, just in case," Shinta said as he popped his pilot's door and climbed out of the helo. There were few land-borne predators on Carver V, and most of those were out toward the shores, not inland such as in the middle of the continent where they had landed.

Tsukiko headed inward into the body of the helo and toward the back of the craft. Just before the loading ramp, on each side of the frame of the chopper, there were two fold-down cots built into the structure of the craft. Each cot required assembly, though, so she flipped down the frame, attached and pinned in the side bar of the cots, and gave it a quick yank test to make sure. After that, some nylon webbing (made from salvaged fire hose) pinned on the frame to support a mattress, and Tsukiko flipped the mattress for her brother's bed up on top of the webbing, then quickly fitted some sheets to it.

After she finished the frame assembly on her brother's bed, she could hear the water going through the inline heater and out to the exterior shower on the port side of the craft. There was a (very cramped) internal shower that could be used in cold months, but when the weather was good, both Tsukiko and Shinta preferred using the outdoor shower. No mess to mop up after the fact when they showered out in the natural surroundings, and it was good for their mind and spirit to be free of the chopper after a long day's flying. Shinta had even been clever enough about placement that he had an outside storage compartment on the fuselage for soap, washcloths, and towels. The water tankage in the helo was 200 gallons, which served for showers, cooking, water rations, and if necessary extra fuel for the fusion engine that ran the craft.

Shinta came in from his shower a minute after Tsukiko finished assembling her bed. "Anything to eat, or straight to bed tonight?"

"Straight to bed, we'll do a solid breakfast tomorrow," Tsukiko said.

"Threatening me with a good meal?" Shinta asked Tsukiko as she ducked out the middle personnel door, to which she simply waved over her back at her brother.

Outside the chopper, Tsukiko unzipped and slipped out of her flight suit, stuffed it in a laundry bag Shinta had hanging next to the shower station, checked the ground for any errant prickly weeds, and took her position under the shower head. Only then did she slip her underwear and bra to put them in the laundry bag, and after a moment to take in the silence of the area, began her shower routine.

In that silence, the serenity of an open-air evening shower in a forest preserve, did she let her mind loose from all the cares of her daily life. No worries about work, about what little schooling she still had put herself to, no concerns about making money or repairing electronics or sourcing replacement components for the hundreds of machines she worked on routinely. Just the silence of the forest, the rain-sound of the shower, and her mind.

And in that silence, in the corner of her mind, Tsukiko thought she saw something, what appeared to be a mobile armor of some kind? It was like nothing else she had seen before, floating in a repair bay with technicians around it, and in a frightening way, she was enamored by it…

-x-x-x-

(6 February, CE 476, 0800 Hours Local (Dendez East) Time)
(Hotel Carver, Hagerstown Downtown area, Planet Carver V, Protectorate of Mendel)

"Been a few years since you've seen 'Auntie Elaine' I think," Jasmine said to her daughter.

"Yeah, I've been ducking out and going my own way for a few years now," Sionet said. "Not today."

"Ready for this? You can still call it off if you want. Until you disappear, you can walk it back." This time, it was Sionet's turn to hug her mother. "What?"

"I know part of you doesn't want me to go, but there's no part of this scenario that ends happily for me if I stay in. Remain with Annika and Korros, they'll need you after I bail. After I find a future, I'll contact you."

"Still want to become a Gundam pilot?" Jasmine held her daughter's head to her heart. "That business cost me an old flame, daughter, but if your heart goes in that direction, I can't say no."

"And it cost me the man that should have been my father," Sionet said. "But, I am who I am, and I am where I am because of father — Jacob — so here we go," and Sionet reached past her mother's waist to the door handle and pulled it open. "Let's do this."

"Yes, we must," Jasmine lightly pushed her daughter in front of her and toward the elevator to the bottom floor.

Outside the elevator, it was only twenty meters to the front door of the hotel, though Jasmine stepped up to the concierge desk. "Room 413, no cleaning needed tonight, but I will need extra towels for the bath, please."

"No cleaning 413, understood ma'am," the fresh-faced concierge said. "And I have your towel request logged. When do you want them delivered?"

"7 PM, please."

"Have a good day, miss," he said after he updated the request. Jasmine was quick to follow Sionet out the door.

The meeting location was pre-selected between Jasmine and Elaine, and as it happened, was Jasmine's favorite ice cream parlor in town. Down two doors from the hotel, Jasmine and Sionet both had no trouble finding Elaine in the sparse crowd of an early-start ice cream parlor.

"Hey!" Elaine waved to them after she caught sight of the two she was looking for. Jasmine and Sionet both came over to her corner booth and Jasmine was the first to hug her old school friend. "Been a few, girl! How're you doing?" Elaine said with her best Drasken Islands partial-drawl accent to cover for her much more stodgy Commando mannerisms.

"Very good, girl!"

"And Sionet! C'mere!" Elaine embraced the younger one as well. "Man! You've grown a lot since I last saw you!"

Sionet did return the embrace as she wanted to, but also because she knew it was good cover — and cover would be something that saved her ass in coming days. "Thanks, Auntie Elaine, it's been too long since I hung out with you and mom on a day trip," she said in a slightly less over-the-top fashion than Elaine was using. "Still working down south?" by which she meant Quantico Island, the planet's home base for the Commandos.

"Yeah, been busy these past few months. C'mon, grab some bench, I already ordered you both shakes. I know your mom still loves the mint fudge shake, I hope you're still a fan of a cookies and cream malt?" she asked Sionet.

"Waving sugar in my direction is a good way to get bite marks on an arm," Sionet said with a smile. She still loved a good malt, most any flavor, and thankfully she had the proper metabolism to drink one every now and again without gaining weight. Her sister, on the other hand, kept herself to a near-religious diet because any amount of excess eating 'went straight to her hips' as she said, and she was trying to keep herself super thin for the dating scene amongst the Mafiosi families.

"No need for that, young lady," Elaine said diffidently, then looked past Jasmine to the counter. "Pedro! Thumbs up on the rest of my order!"

"Si, Senora!" the owner of the shop shouted in answer.

"Business been good?" Jasmine asked.

"Busy," Elaine said in a more hushed and nuanced tone of voice. "A lot more families have lost relatives to the black hole than they will let fly. Which reminds me, you've had a night to think it over, still want out?" The latter part was directed to Sionet.

"Oh Hell yes," Sionet answered. "The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced I need to get out before I burn it all down on the way out."

"Okay, then, I'll talk to Pedro about getting a private room." Elaine slid out from the booth and stepped up to the counter, then asked the proprietor something. They exchanged words for a few moments, and Elaine waved them toward the counter. When Jasmine and Sionet arrived, Pedro waved them toward the back, with milkshakes in hand no less.

Elaine led them to one of the private rooms he had just off the back of the main dining area, room three specifically, and entered. Sionet and Jasmine were next, and Pedro deposited their shakes before he closed the door. "Don't worry about wiretaps or cameras, I sweep this room for bugs weekly. Pedro Marajos, retired Star Captain of Commandos and a 383-BLUE rescuee. If you're ducking out, kid, you can always come to me if you need assistance."

"Thank you sir!" Sionet said hastily.

"Good luck!" he ducked out of the room to leave Sionet and Jasmine alone with Elaine to go through the process.

Sionet took a long pull of her milkshake. "Okay, where do we begin?"

"383-BLUE. We disappear the family of Commandos that are ensnared by the Mafiosi to give them a new life, away from the Mafiosi. What kind of life you want to make for yourself after that, we're willing to discuss."

"I know this is probably going to be presumptuous of me, but my personal goal since I was little was to become a Gundam Pilot," Sionet said in a rush.

"Like father, like daughter," Elaine said.

"You knew my father?" Sionet asked.

"Oh yes, your mother and I passed him back and forth, but that dropped off after your mother started seeing Jacob Brelle," Elaine said.

"Except for that one time that led to me," Sionet said with a mischievous grin to effect.

"Hai, and that one worked out for the better," Elaine said with an equally-mischievous smile. "Unfortunately, as much as Leon Neider got around, he had a strange knack for avoiding knocking ladies up, except for your mother. You are the only known and confirmed child from him."

"One-night stand and impeccable timing, I'd guess," Jasmine opined.

"Neider?" Sionet asked. "As in, descended from Auel Neider? One of the six Extended under Legion Commander Lightbringer?" Sionet continued to make sure they were speaking of the same bloodhouse. Unlike her relatives, she had always been fascinated by early Mendel history, and especially by the ace pilots of all sides of the conflict.

"Aff, one and the same," Elaine confirmed.

"Wow," Sionet said. "Not only do I want to be a Gundam Pilot, I have a reputation to uphold. Better and better," she said while looking down at the table.

"Well, if that is how you feel about it, we have options, but you are going to have to put in some serious work for it, young lady. Most kids aspiring to be pilots have hundreds or thousands of hours in sims by your age, you barely have 80."

"I know, father did a good job at keeping me out of sim pods when we traveled." After a while, Sionet had stopped asking and mostly buried her latent desire to become a pilot, primarily because she knew that was not going to happen for the wife of a Mafiosi. Still, the desire was not destroyed, and if there was a hope, she would grasp for it.

"Well, you are not out of the running, yet, but the window is narrow. Shall need to find a place where you can hawk some sim pods shortly after you get settled down. If you want to be considered, you are going to need to get hours, scores, and feats, the more the better."

"Feats — you mean ace missions?" Sionet asked.

"More than just that," Elaine said. "I have heard it told several ways, but the best combination is all of them, and a combination of the ace missions and the milestones as well. The more noise you make in SimNet, the more likely you are to be noticed by one of the Commandos and brought in for proper testing."

Sionet had looked at some of the milestones and despaired in those years past, they seemed impossible to someone who barely could pilot a Leo against infantry when she was eight, but now she had no choice — if she wanted to earn her bloodhouse and earn her future, she would have to do them and more. Far more, she now realized. And that realization gave her another reason to severely dislike her non-biological father, his ambitions to make her another arranged marriage whore had set her back over a decade in what should have been a meteoric path to Gundam Pilot.

"I'll do it," Sionet said definitively. "What do I need to know?"

"Here," Sionet received a small tablet computer. "This is all I can offer you for the time being, but this should be plenty. Your first and loudest goal is to escape and evade recapture. That hardened tablet will help with information and coordination between the AI entity — PALADIN — and yourself so you can escape successfully. After you have found a niche somewhere else on Carver V, or even if you leave planet, PALADIN will be your backdoor link to pass messages to your mother."

"I think I like Carver V, just not as a potential Mafia whore. I'll probably stay."

"Then you will need to find a place to call home. Orphanages, work programs, something of the like where you can reside and do some time on the Sim Pods." Elaine spun her laptop around to face Sionet. "Any of the red areas are territory controlled by Mafiosi that are not allied to the Brelle Family."

"Missing one," Sionet said. "You have Westport and Westhaven listed as friendly, there was a big falling out between the Brelle and the Rigos some six months ago. No-go agreement in lieu of a shootout."

"And Westport is geometrically the farthest point away from Hagerstown, which is where they will start searching," Jasmine said.

"And, we can give them cause to look in the other direction. You brought something along that is bugged, right?" Elaine asked.

"Yes, location tracker, no microphone, in my toiletries kit."

Elaine nodded. "I think you will need to buy a new kit today for your trip tomorrow," she said pensively. "I shall make sure the tracker bug goes on a trip all its own."

"Outstanding. What that I could watch Kenny chase his tail, but running is my goal. Personal amusement another day."

"Good attitude," Elaine commented. "Those few times we have had persons recaptured, they were caught doing something blatantly normal and obvious for themselves. The easiest way to make sure you are not caught is to not settle into your old habits. No good hotels, do motels or sleep on the street. No fancy restaurants, small diners, bistros, fast food, or grab something from the groceries. Shopping should be kept minimalistic, just enough to get you by and very little or no more. And definitely do not commit any crimes. We have had a couple recaptured after their Term of Bond because the court system is obligated to inform next of kin when a minor is arrested."

"I've kept myself out of the criminal side of the business, definitely don't want to go down that path," Sionet said. "Any other major don'ts on that list?"

"Yes, do not mention the program name, 383-BLUE is classified. If you blow the program, you could make it very difficult to get other persons in harm's way out, or even touch off a shooting war between the Commandos and the Mafiosi. Granted that it would be a laughably short shooting war, but the goal here is to prevent such things."

"I hear you," Sionet said with a nod and a sip of her malt. "What do I do if I am accosted by Magi?"

"You should not be, but if your new codex shows up on a law enforcement blotter for some reason, PALADIN will know and will mobilize a team. There will be hard questions to be answered at that time, but if your response is on the green side, no harm shall come of it."

Elaine set a new codex necklace on the table. "Speaking of a new codex," Sionet said.

"Aff, that is your new — or I should say proper — identity. Sionet Neider. Your codex number is wildly different from your Carver V codex, we used Home Terra as the originating number to help throw off the hounds. Control number is the same, all your education and Sim Pod records have been carried over, and the cash balance on your Codex has been laundered and transferred. And, you are listed as emancipated on your records, so truancy or delinquency are not valid reasons to hold you."

"Did you take a cut for the Commandos?" Sionet asked, since it was common in Mafiosi circles to take 2 percent when laundering, as a 'brokerage fee' on the transactions.

"No, we do not follow that ethos," Elaine said, knowing exactly what Sionet meant.

"I have far more on tap than I'll need," she said, knowing that one of her first goals was to find a job — menial if nothing else — and pay her own way while training. "Once I'm situated, I'll donate to the program."

"We will work out an arrangement if you are still inclined at that time. And thank you for it, anything we can do to expand resources, the more lives we can rescue." Elaine pushed the codex necklace over to Sionet. "I need your codex necklaces, please."

Sionet reluctantly took them off — even if they belonged to an identity she was about to foreswear, she was still attached to them at a level — and passed them to the Commando. Elaine stuffed them in her upper arm pocket and buttoned it. Sionet next picked up the new necklace and donned it, then tied the second necklace into a small velvet bag she kept her 'clean copy' in, and tucked it into her bra band on her right side. When she found a new residence that she could secure her personal effects in, she would find a lockbox or safe to stow it.

With the donning of her new codex, Sionet Brelle became a rocky memory — some good memories, some bad memories, but at the end of the day, now just a memory. Sionet Neider now sat across the table from Commando Star Captain Elaine Landerson.

-x-x-x-

(7 February, CE 476, 1215 Hours Zulu time)
(Allster Enterprises Orbital Station Freya, in orbit around Home Terra)

"That was insanely irresponsible, sister!" Geoffrey said. "I'm going to leave aside the press stir you just caused with your prototype, I'm worried about having to scrape what's left of you off chunks of your own project if something goes wrong!"

"Every combat hardware engineer has to worry about that from time to time, brother. That's why good engineers always build safety margins into their devices," Cordelia answered her brother by way of the comm downlink between Allster HQ in Lexington, Kentucky, in North America and the orbital station Cordelia was stationed in.

"I'm not worried about that!" Geoffrey half-shouted.

"That's exactly what you are worried about, you're just fixated on the end result rather than the road to it," Cordelia shot back at him. "Do you really think I'd gamble with my life? Or do you think I'd eliminate as many variables in an equation like this?"

Geoffrey opened his mouth to answer, waited four seconds, and closed it. He took about ten seconds to do his own mental calculations, and came to the (surprisingly accurate) conclusion: "Yes, Cinderella in Space, you would definitely do both of the above, and you'd throw some showboating into the mix for good measure. Such as pulling a 6-G 'stiffy' in a prototype Mobile Interceptor that would happen to be captured on camera by a merchant dropship flying textiles out of Calcutta. Do I need to roll the video evidence?"

"Wait, somebody got that on video? Can you forward it to me?" Cordelia asked, suddenly a lot less argumentative and now more contemplative.

"Huh, why?"

"After that maneuver, the center of gravity of the Orchis changed. I'm hoping the video can give me a clue what happened," the youngest sister of the family's present generation said.

"Well, sure," Geoffrey was already prepared to send her the video, mainly because he was under orders to give her an ass-chewing, silently he supported her on this matter. "File's coming your way now."

Cordelia streamed it on the way in, since the transmit speed exceeded the play time of the file. Naturally, Geoffrey played it on his side to see if he could spot anything, now that he knew there was something to look for. In the race between the two playbacks, Geoffrey got to the critical segment first, and clued into a possible happening, saw it immediately. "Huh, it looks like your top two engine nacelles shifted during the maneuver," he said.

"What frame reference?" Cordelia asked.

"Starts at three minutes, thirty point four-four seconds," Geoffrey read off the timestamp where he had paused before the shift.

"Son of a space bitch!" Cordelia gasped. "How the hell did I miss that on inspection after the flight?" She reached for a radio handset sitting on the end of her bed and keyed it. "Kilo Two from Cinderella, come back," she prompted on the channel.

"Cinderella, Kilo Three, be advised that Kilo Two is marooned in the 'can right now, crapping his brains out from some bad cafeteria food. What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"I just reviewed footage of the Orchis flight from yesterday, check the top two engine nacelles for shifting or shearing. We might not have had a Center of Gravity shift, it may have been a center of thrust shift."

"Checking now, standby." Fifteen seconds later. "Boss, good intel from that video. The top and bottom nacelle sets are partially sheared and stoved forward about ten centimeters. I have a LIDAR imaging unit set coming over from maintenance so we can do a complete render of what happened forward of the engines. ETIC 3 hours, maybe more if this jammed frame members together."

"Copy all, keep me apprised." Cordelia sat her radio down on the desk in front of herself and in front of the monitor she was speaking to her brother on. "Thanks for the heads-up on that one, brother."

"Still doesn't change the fact that you had us all scared shitless," Geoffrey said.

"You can drop the act, brother," Cordelia said calmly. "The worry-warts in the family are mother and Rosette. Leene was probably incensed that I made a move that inadvertently showed her up without giving her warning enough to get ahead of it. If I had to wager money, I'd say you and father were both cheering me on during the company broadcast of the cockpit and telemetry recordings."

Geoffrey pursed his lips for a moment, then sighed. "It still chafes to know that you have our measure so thoroughly, sister."

"Well, I'll give you an easy break for now. This first flight is going to come with probably about 5000 man-hours of inspection, reengineering if needed, and rebalancing before I even think loud about taking it out again for another round. So, I won't be making any noise for the next six weeks, maybe more. You can report to the sisters that I am appropriately chastised for risking my neck and won't be taking the new unit out for a while."

"Thank you for that," Geoffrey sighed again. "Any news from up in space, Cinderella?" he asked in a more joking fashion.

"Think I may have either a secret admirer, or a pervy teenage stalker, so far not sure which. Couple of my Stamen launches, I've had some cock 'n' balls art on windows in the launch bay. Same drawing style incident over incident, so I'm pretty sure it is the same guy. Or girl. Girl is possible, maybe, but she'd have to have a strange sense of humor for that one."

"Want me to have the perp booted?"

"Hell no," Cordelia replied diffidently. "Kinda amusing, actually. I've got Annabelle looking into who it is, but just for informational purposes. Other than that, nothing special going on up here. I'm thinking about heading over to Mendel for the Arrival Ceremony this year, if you want to come up and do some touristy stuff with me."

"No dice, sis. I already have a billeting at the company barbecue for speeches and handshakes and a cornhole tourney. I'd ask you to come down and join me, but your sisters would shit fury over it after this run."

"Well, there's always next year, then, or another appropriate holiday," Cordelia judged. "I'm going to get off here and go chivvy my engineers, see if we can figure out what went wrong and get it fixed."

"Good luck, sister. After you get the bugs out, I want to do a ride-along with you in my Gerbera," he said.

"Absolutely! I'll keep you posted on progress."

"Love ya, sis. Stay safe up there."

"Keep your eyes up and your ass down, brother. And don't let our sisters take potshots at you, political or real. See ya!" Cordelia killed the commo link and leaned back in her chair. "That went almost exactly as I expected. It may chafe him that I have his measure to that degree, but it scares me far more so to have their measure to this degree," she said to the blank monitor in front of her.

-x-x-x-

(6 February, CE 476, 1130 Hours Local (Dendez East) Time)
(KV Apparel, Hagerstown Downtown area, Planet Carver V, Protectorate of Mendel)

"Shopping today, have to think camouflage," Sionet said mostly to herself as she stepped in.

"This is going to be tricky, somewhat, but not as bad as doing this for your sister would be," Jasmine said with a sly grin. Unlike normal, her mother eschewed the normal shopping basket for a cart — she expected a decent haul for this shopping trip, and Sionet welcomed it.

"True, Annika can't stop herself from standing out," Sionet said. "As for me, I'm thinking we need to start in the sporting clothes section. Somber tones and gear designed to move."

"Good call, but first, lingerie," Jasmine steered her toward the underwear section. "You're not a large girl, but running smaller will help you stand out even less."

"Minimizer bras, sport bras, that kind of thing," Sionet nodded agreement. "Maximum concealment, minimum bounce."

"The less you stand out, the better. And that means forward of your ribcage as well," Jasmine pointed out. "What's your size?" Sionet picked one off the rack in her size. "Test it."

Sionet dutifully took her trial clothes to the fitting room, both minimizer and sport bras, and tried them on. Several minutes later: "This works, but feels weird," she said.

"You'll get used to it," Jasmine pointed out. "Downplay your looks as much as possible, the less outstanding you look, the better."

"Makes sense," Sionet acknowledged the point. After she switched back to her normal underwear, she dropped the tested articles in her cart and grabbed several more pairs for the road, as well as equivalent panties. "If I have to have better articles, I can buy them onsite."

"Good call," Jasmine said.

"So, anything else in this area?" Sionet asked as she looked around. Nothing was coming to mind for her.

"No, you're good for here. We're in the colder months, but just a windbreaker and pants should do for you. Thankfully, your normal windbreaker you brought with you is more than enough." Carver V did not have seasons in the same fashion that Home Terra did, there were colder and wetter months (January through April) but the temperature normally did not get below freezing. The rest of the year was comparatively warm, good growing season for the farmers across the world and good for shorts and t-shirts on the streets.

"Then I'll need pants, but not these," Sionet pointed to the rack of skinny jeans that were rather popular with the crowd her age.

"What are you thinking?" Jasmine asked.

"Something with usable pockets," Sionet said cheerily. "That's my big frustration with most women's pants, no usable pockets."

"Women's pants assume you'll have a purse normally," Jasmine pointed out the obvious.

"I'm going to ditch the purse," Sionet said. "Pockets are a necessity."

Jasmine led her daughter to a less-frequented area of the store, where the pants were of a more utilitarian type but still cut for ladies. Herein, Sionet found and quickly fell in love with cargo pants — Four good and very usable pockets up around her hips and butt, four large cargo pockets on the outside of her thighs, two smaller and still very utilitarian pockets on the front of her thighs. She bought four pairs of these rather light pants, and a good pair of jeans with real pockets as well. Her purse was a telltale, and the way she carried any purse was a telltale, so going with no purse at all might look slightly odd for a lady but reduced a telltale that could be recognized at distance.

"So, next thing to worry about is…" Sionet trailed off as she looked around the store.

"Pair of basic tennis shoes and a pair of good hiking boots. We'll scuff both of them up when we get back to the hotel to make them look used," Jasmine waved Sionet toward the shoes and boots section — one of the larger areas of the store — and assisted in picking out a good pair of each. To 'scuff' them a bit, Jasmine bought a shoe brush and some shoe polish — black — that did not match either pair of footwear.

"These are good," Sionet said as she looked at the hiking boots in a boot mirror. "I like them, much more comfortable than the loafers I normally wear."

"This will help even more," Jasmine dropped a pair of gel insoles in the cart for her hiking boots, and a pair of sport insoles for her tennis shoes. "You'll probably do a lot of walking until you settle down, so you'll need these."

Sionet sighed. "I'm going to miss our shopping misadventures, mother," she said.

"I know, you're always the fun one to go shopping with," Jasmine gave her a quick hug. "Still, we do what we have to do. Now that we have footwear, you'll need socks — use boot socks, they take abuse better — and then shirts."

"Shirts, yeah," Sionet looked towards the racks and racks of shirts that she would have loved to wear normally, except now that she was gearing up to run, she realized that those shirts and blouses were too bright, too flashy, and would draw attention.

"So, yeah," Jasmine said. "Gotta look at this in a different direction."

"Not how we normally shop," Sionet said.

"Worth it, though, daughter," Jasmine said.

Their shopping would continue for a couple hours more — shopping with an eye toward looking less interesting and noticeable was not common for shoppers in KV Apparel, but the clerks were more than happy for the sizable sale.

The transaction came out of Sionet's new codex, but would also be recorded on her Brelle codex in case someone wanted to look at her purchase history — only, the transaction recorded to the Brelle codex was falsified to conceal what exactly she bought. PALADIN knew the tricks to help conceal someone's intentions.

-x-x-x-

(7 February, CE 476, 1600 Hours Zulu Time)
(Blue Cosmos Interrogator-class Recon Jumpship Red Road (BIJ-014))
(Dimensional Location: Random coordinates (Jump location 23 of Tour 4))

Though the origin of this Jumpship was wildly different from that of the Inner Sphere and the Star Empires (both old and new), one thing inadvertently fell into the same pattern as those other nations: the operations tempo on a JumpShip was much more laid back compared to that of a Warship or Dropship.

And then there were JumpShips that were themselves famous for being 'laid back' in a service that was already laid back.

"Makes you wonder, boss, what exactly would we do if we landed in the middle of one of their jump points?" The weapons officer for the ship pointed out.

"The only sane and sensible thing: switch to the L-F battery, quick-charge the core, and get the fuck out of dodge," Captain Emmanuel Djibril pointed out. "If they hold to the old ways, firing on a Jumpship is a big no-no, so they'll probably just try to board us and fail at that."

"Huh, good point," Henrietta stretched and took a moment to adjust her sport bra before she returned to fanning herself with an old chinese-style folding fan. The A/C unit that serviced the Bridge and forward crew quarters was offline, the HVAC specialist was working on it but had no ETA and the longer it was offline the hotter the bridge would become.

Two seats left of her, the Maintenance Controller (Carrie Mellos) pulled her sport bra off, wadded it up, and wrung it out in the zero-grav air next to her seat, then unfurled it and slipped it back on. "Drowning in sweat is not how I envisioned myself dying on this tour."

"No joke, my underwear is so soggy with ball sweat I could wring it out like you just did except for the inevitable reprimand," the ship's flight boss said.

"Double standards, gotta love 'em," Carrie blew Rico a quick kiss. Truth to tell, she was not wrong in saying she was operating under a double standard, but given the circumstances the Captain would not have begrudged the Flight Boss having done so as well.

"Red Road to dehydration," the Captain said, playing off a common game of the crew to use the name of the ship (Red Road) to describe something they were doing or something they were going to do, or some annoyance or actual hazard.

"Tour 4, Jump 23, Bridge Staff runs serious risk of death by roasting," Dardenelle Hykos said from her customary seat on the ceiling of the room. The other officers on duty had no expectation that she was not journaling their conversation as well as her own status updates and thoughts, it was something of an informal job requirement of the Intelligence Officers on each of the Interrogator-Class Jumpships.

BIJ-014 Red Road (Blue Cosmos Interrogator-Class Jumpship, Hull Designation 014) was the fifteenth of the class of ships, with the first ship designated Hull 000, and this was a high-risk service to the Blue and Pure World if there ever was one. Every crew of these ships, from the 10 officers to the 40 enlisted to the 60 marines and the 160 Electronic Warfare Officers in the two 'Interrogation Bays' knew that if they inadvertently landed in the hornet's nest, they would have enough time to fire off a HPG message with their location and stick their heads between their legs to kiss their asses goodbye. A simple Jumpship, even one with the best armor for its size, would hold no real hope for resisting anything more than a small patrol of Mobile Suits or Aerofighters, primarily because the ship could not move on its own except to jump from Jump Point to Jump Point. Any kind of interplanetary movement required a Tug Dropship, of which these ships had two docked, but even that was a paltry form of movement. The 36 carried Mobile Suits on the ship would provide protection against something as big as an Agamemnon-class ship, but that only went so far when one considered the purpose of the Interrogator.

The way their duty was billed was simple: the Interrogator-class ships were hunters, pure and simple. They went on year-long tours of the near-space around the Sol System, jumping from random dimension to dimension in an attempt to land in a peripheral system that would allow them to identify their origin dimension, the world now known as Old Terra to Blue Cosmos. To that end, each ship carried 160 EWO troops and 800 tons of the most sensitive electronic intelligence gear that Blue Cosmos could muster. The theory was, if they landed in an occupied system and could not readily identify it by the presence of other traffic, the electronic emissions from the world would tell the tale. The duty profile also precluded stumbling across a median-tech instance of Terra that was not their origin point, as radio traffic from Sol III (Terra, in its star designation) would not reach to another star system in a quantifiable fashion.

Thus far, 22 hulls running a total of 78 tours had come up with nothing. Not for want of trying, but they were playing against the long-ball odds of simply stumbling into the dimension in question.

"Murphy is always involved, no exceptions," Captain Djibril said. He traced his lineage all the way back to Djibril himself and his new secretary after they landed on Blue Terra.

"Murphy was a putz," Henrietta said in a very sour tone.

"Got it!" the HVAC tech half-shouted before the blower turned on and Dardenelle was the first to feel the rush of cold air blowing into the room.

"About damn time," Carrie said. "Won't have to wring my sport bra out again, at least until the environment controls crap out again."

"We've got another 17 jumps on this tour," Emmanuel said from the captain's chair. "Just a matter of time."

-x-x-x-

(8 February, CE 476, 0005 Hours Local (Dendez East) Time)
(Hotel Carver, Hagerstown Downtown area, Planet Carver V, Protectorate of Mendel)

Sionet had finished packing her bags, which had amounted to a small duffel bag and a medium backpack, then fitted them. With a little creative mussing and dropping the makeup that Sionet normally was fairly light on, Jasmine gauged that her daughter now looked hard to recognize at fifteen meters, which was the goal after everything else was said and done.

"Final countdown," Sionet said mostly to fortify herself for what she was about to do.

"Final goodbye," Jasmine gave her one last good, stiff embrace.

"I know here in a few hours you'll have to report me missing to father. Do what you have to, make it as convincing as possible so you don't draw suspicion." Sionet made sure that her family-issued cell phone was on the nightstand so that the trackers within were not on her. A glance past it to her normal travel bag showed the toiletries kit that had the tracker bug — Auntie Elaine would take care of that shortly.

Two knocks at the door brought that to a head: "Jasmine, Elaine," both heard from the far side.

Sionet opened the door for the Commando. "Morning," Sionet said.

"Morning," Elaine said before she came in. "You're ready to go?"

"Yes," Sionet said.

"You look the part, kid," Elaine gave her a hug as well. "Going forward, I won't be able to help you directly unless PALADIN gets us involved, and that should only happen if things go sideways. But, we will meet again if you can earn yourself a name and a place."

"Don't know how or where, but that is my goal," Sionet said. "I figure, if I go loud enough fast enough, it won't matter if they learn about me, in mafia circles there are targets too high a profile."

Star Captain Landerson nodded. "It is a gamble, but if you can make it work, it's a form of backwards concealment," Elaine pointed out. "End of this hall, take the stairs down to the ground floor. The stairwell exit is propped open, head out and through the back alley. Do you know where the bus stop is?" Sionet nodded. Bus travel was fairly common on Carver V's continent areas, flying was common when bouncing between land masses.

"I won't say where I am going, but wish me luck." Sionet opened and pulled the door closed behind her. There were cameras in the hallway, but Mafiosi would not be granted access to the camera footage under normal circumstances, Sionet was sure. She would be proved wrong, Kenny would be able to hack his way into their NRU and pull the footage, but PALADIN beat him to the punch and altered the footage in such a way that they were never the wiser.

Down the stairs and outside, Sionet went out the back alley and onto the main drag, concealed from the security systems around her by PALADIN; further investigation by the Mafiosi would prove to be entirely fruitless. She continued northbound toward the bus terminal on the north end of the commercial district, not in a true hurry because she knew she had 30 minutes of walking to make the next bus north that departed in 70 minutes.

Hagerstown was not closed down at this time of night; most stores were, but not all points of interest were closed up. The most active of locations was first Club 322, which she skirted because she knew it was a common mafiosi hangout for the Gilles Family, and the Arrow Club which she skirted because it was full of teens at or around her age. In the latter case she was noticed at a distance by some unruly teens, but they paid her no heed because she looked sufficiently like a vagrant that they wanted nothing to do with her.

The farther north she went from the heart of the commercial district, the fewer places were open; prior to her arrival at the bus terminal the only place open was a gas station, which she stopped at to pick up a couple bottles of diet soda and a bag of trail mix. The cashier eyed her a bit suspiciously, but said nothing since her codex cleared the tab without issue. Once outside the station, Sionet resumed her march with one bottle in one of her left cargo pockets and the other in hand, drinking it as she went.

At the bus terminal, Sionet was one of a few persons in the terminal, most laying over from one bus route to the next, so she made her way to the ticket office that was staffed by only one rather bored clerk, and stepped up to the booth. "Morning. Ticket to Kalweyn, please."

"Sure. Two C-bills and thirty pence, please." Sionet gave him a five in hard cash, so he dished the appropriate change, though with a question that she was and was not expecting: "You under 18?"

"Yes, and legally emancipated," Sionet said after she mastered the initial reaction thereof.

"All right, miss, no offense meant," he held up a hand in semi-surrender.

"None taken, mister," Sionet said after she received her ticket.

"You're boarding in Bay three, bus 1201. Stay safe out there."

"Arigatou," Sionet said; it was a mannerism of the Mafiosi to use only English and completely eschew the Clan Standard English terms often heard in Mendel society, so using other languages (Japanese, Russian, Hindi) was an option to help break up her profile by linguistics. "Have a good evening, mister," she said before she headed toward the benches for Bay 3. It was also common Mafiosi practice to be curt with non-mafiosi persons, especially common workers and clerks, no greetings or well-wishes that would be otherwise considered 'common courtesy' among the average civilians. It was also widely known that such was a Mafiosi custom, so Sionet's salutation to the clerk immediately crossed her off the list as a potential Mafiosi in his mind; an inquiry by Kenny in a couple days' time would completely slip the clerk's mind because of it, despite having a picture of her to look at.

Sionet found a bench in Bay 3 where she could monitor persons coming in and out without looking like that was what she was doing, and simply waited for the assigned bus. The ride to Kaelwyn would be uneventful.

-x-x-x-

(8 February, CE 476, 0530 Hours Local (Dendez West) Time)
(Mackie's Club, City of Westport, Dendez Continent, Planet Carver V, Protectorate of Mendel)

"Down here, in the back on the right is what we need," The Club proprietor said after he flicked on the lights.

"Ah, keep forgetting these are down here," Kyle said nonchalantly.

"Why do you keep these, Mack? Not like anyone uses them?" Harvey asked as he led the way down into the basement.

"Shut your mouth, young man," Mack said in clear jest. "I climb in twice a month minimum just to keep my skills from rusting, and I still post decent scores like I used to back in the days when I piloted for Mendel."

"You mean back in the days like when you had to walk to school both ways uphill?" Harvey needled the proprietor a little more.

"Yeah, in the driving snow no less," Mack played off the joke about his age. "You young farts got it easy," he sunk the barb in a bit deeper. "Still, only three of these pods work," and Mackie rapped a knuckle on the side of the one he commonly used. "The rest need a nano recharge and some PM (4), but I just ain't got the cash right now for it. I've been thinking about restoring the other eighteen pods and opening the pods up as a pod net for kids who want to come in and practice, or militia or veteran sim requirements."

"Meh," Kyle grumbled as he wove his way between the pods. "I used to think it would be cool, piloting a Mobile Suit or Gundam, but that ship has long since sailed. Pretty sure a well-practiced fifth-grader could roll my ass up and smoke it in a one-on-one."

"You's got a point, most aspiring pilots would have a thousand hours on the pods by now, or more," Mackie waved the two helpers to the table he had in mind. "We've got a crew coming in today for lunch and beers, fairly large meeting, so we'll put them on the main floor and we'll tear down the table when they're done."

"That's the table? That is going to be one heavy bitch," Harvey groaned.

"No shit," Kyle grumbled. The table in question was about 8 meters long and built sturdy.

"Time to work off your breakfasts, boys," Mackie said.

"Haven't had breakfast yet," Kyle said as he took position opposite Mackie.

"Exactly," Mack tightened down his work gloves and hefted the table a moment after Kyle and Harvey hefted their end.

On the way past the pods again, Kyle got the whiff of a running nanomachine hive, which was not at all uncommon for the Sim Pods. Every Mobile Suit had different control schemas and cockpit layouts, though the control surfaces were usually fairly similar, and having pods for each type would be prohibitive outside of specialized training centers. To make training on Mobile Warfare more 'democratized' (ergo, more available to the masses), the Sim Pod as was known to Mendel had been born: a large white aluminum eggshell about three meters tall and five meters long, with the power and control systems built into the base unit that prevented the pod from rolling away. The innards of the pod were fashioned out of a nanomachine hive that could rebuild itself into the cockpit of any kind of craft needed, from a lowly Mobile Worker Pod all the way to the piloting station of a Phalanx-class ship and thousands of craft in between. The nanomachines that ran them were rather expensive, but not prohibitive enough that a person with a decent day-job could not have a pod in his basement if he wanted it.

"Man, that smell," Harvey said.

"It's that nanomachine smell," Mack said, playing off a line from an ancient Terran movie about the Vietnam War.

"To each his hobby of choice," Kyle said. "I'll stick to my dreams about fast cars and interesting ladies."

"Catch the silver-tipped arrow," Harvey said. "I don't think I'll ever get married. Kinda like being a free-floater."

"Keep hitting on girls like you do, they'll find you free-floating down the Kingston River with your throat cut," Kyle pointed out Harvey's bad proclivity and one possibility of how it could end. His explanation was rather labored because of trying to carry the table up the stairs backwards.

"Yeah, yeah," Harvey dismissed the warning like he always did. Kyle wondered if there was ever a lady that could rearrange his attitude (or scramble his guts) in such a way that he actually received the lesson, but decided after a moment that such a lady would have to be military and willing to demonstrate the power of the 'fairer' sex the hard way.

The table was not a simple edifice to maneuver up to the main floor or around a corner, but once up in the main room the three of them took only five minutes to mount the legs to the table and stand it up properly. Then came the arduous trek of the chairs, four at a time as the three of them carried them upstairs, a total of thirty chairs for this one setting.

The day would be a busy one, they all knew.

-x-x-x-

(8 February, CE 476, 0900 Hours Local (Dendez East) Time)
(Hotel Carver, Hagerstown Downtown area, Planet Carver V, Protectorate of Mendel)

Jasmine had beat feet around the downtown area to all the usual spots that Sionet and she loved to frequent, mainly to provide cover for what she was about to phone in. Kenny had trackers on her phone, and he would probably verify that Jasmine had been to the usual locations looking for her, so the subterfuge was a requirement.

The other requirement was some solid acting skills, of which Jasmine was always decent at.

The phone rang twice, then was picked up by Jacob. "Honey?" he prompted her.

"Jacob, big problem. Sionet is missing."

"Missing? Did you call her to check in?" No mention was made of her calm voice, Jacob knew his wife well and knew that she would keep her composure even in a crisis situation such as this.

"Her cell phone is on the nightstand here in the hotel. No answer on her shoe phone. She left some of her travel stuff here in the room, I think she snuck out some time overnight."

"I'll get Kenny to check." Jasmine heard the cell phone drop to the desk and a radio came off it, then beeped when activated. "Kenny, Jacob, report to my office priority one with your laptop."

"Coming, boss," Kenny replied. Ninety seconds later, the door opened. "What gives, chief?"

"Sionet is missing. Check her trackers."

"You know how that girl is about trackers," Kenny grumbled but did as ordered. Jasmine heard the laptop open up and start up, then some typing. "Okay, her cell phone is in the Hotel Carver."

"I'm looking at it right now," Jasmine pointed out.

"Her shoe phone is… here? In her bedroom, looks like by the position data," Kenny continued.

"Fat lot of good that does her," Jacob said.

"She carries it only when she thinks she's going into a hazardous location," Jasmine pointed out. One could not wear shorts or a skirt and have a shoe phone, the bulge on the ankle would give it away readily.

"Okay, her tennis shoe tracker is showing… Hotel Carver again."

"Okay, yeah, her tennis shoes are in her day bag here," Jasmine said.

"So what footwear is she wearing?" Jacob asked the question now on all of their minds.

"She picked up a new pair of sneaks yesterday, white with red highlights. No bug in them yet." Jasmine was horrible at bugging things, regardless of how much practice she got, so she left that unenviable task to Kenny and Destiny. "Yeah, box is here next to her day bag, no shoes."

"Fuck, anything else we could track?" Jacob asked.

"Wait, I'm not seeing her toiletries kit in the bathroom, didn't you put a micro-bug in it in years past?" Jasmine asked.

"Yeah, just replaced the battery on it last month," Kenny said. It was a pain in the ass to do so, but he did it and even corrected a stitching flub he made when he put it together the first time. "Checking… whoa."

"What?" Jacob asked.

"According to this position data, she's on the 33 Highway headed south from Hagerstown, just passing through Joton. Looks like she'll be in Narwhal in about six hours," Kenny said.

"Think she bolted, Jasmine? You're closer to her than I am, sadly."

"She didn't give any indication of it yesterday, but she's been acting very broody, almost depressed over the past couple months. Bolting is a possible, so is a kidnapping."

"What do we want to do?" Jacob asked.

"Send Kenny and Destiny over. We'll track her down, but we can't make a lot of noise about it so I want the group small. We don't have that many allies over here." There was no mention of contacting the Magi to file a missing persons report as the Mafiosi would never claim such a thing publicly, it would be a tremendous loss of face.

"Get your go bag and have Destiny come up here," Jacob ordered of his electronics specialist.

"On it, boss," Kenny half-slammed his laptop closed and made for the door.

"I'll send them into Hagerstown since that is the middle of Dendez. That way you'll be best sited for going wherever Sionet is. Can you get a rental SUV ready?"

"Definitely."

"Find our daughter, Jasmine, and if she was kidnapped or violated, I want the dicks of every perpetrator for the trophy wall."

"Damn straight, love. I've got to get over to the rental shop. Call me if you hear anything."

"Later," Jasmine heard on the phone before the call disconnected.

Jasmine sighed, then sobbed briefly. She would have to hunt Sionet in coming months, but whether or not she found any trace of her would be up to how well her daughter hides from everyone.

There was no concern that a psionic in the Brelle Mafia would pick up on the deception, as the Brelle Mafia did not have any psionics on the payroll. None of the Mafiosi Families had Psionics, it was considered underhanded and dishonorable for the families to rely on such skills, a terrible shortsight that was now Jasmine's great saving grace in this matter.

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Author's Chapter Afterword:

First full chapter, the beginning of the positioning for conflicts to come.

This is the beginning of the echo of the Exile of Blue Cosmos. Not only are they NOT inclined to accept their exile, they want back into the Earth Sphere so they can take vengeance on everyone and everything that they believe wronged them and contributed to their dethroning. The hell of it is, Blue Cosmos has worked themselves up into such a second-stringer fury over the matter that this is headed for a no-holds-barred throwdown of no small proportion. They may be at a size disadvantage, but that won't stop them from trying real hard to return the favor to Mendel, ZAFT, and the USSA, the three biggest offenders against the Blue and Pure World Order they tried to forge in those centuries past.

In the history books (the real history books), it is proven to be frighteningly easy to propagandize an entire nation into believing that they have a rightful dominion. I'll skip the obvious example — post-Weimar Republic Germany for any of you history buffs — and go to some of the less spoken examples. North Korea in the 50s — possessed of the belief that the Korean Peninsula should be unified under their rule. The Soviet Union tried to make a Communist State a reality, but what happened in practice was a mismatched collage of dysfunctional satellite states that loosely answered to Moscow before the Afghanistan FUBAR. I can even posit a lesser example from the United States versus the Communist Republic of Cuba, the height of which was the Bay of Pigs fuckup. And the farther back you go on the calendar, the more you will find — and the easier it becomes to find or start one. Short story long, given enough effort any government can convince its people that a given crusade is a righteous cause.

Herein is where Blue Cosmos has had both the curse of time and the luxury of isolation within which it has created a wholly nasty propaganda bubble to live in. There are no outside factors, no external references, no control data to measure themselves against, just their bad selves and their warped opinion of history to go by. And generations to build that lofty opinion of their own position in the cosmos. All they need now is a direction to unleash that fury, and so shall it be.

The flipside of this coin is rather strange in comparison. A Mafiosi runaway? Where would a runaway girl from a mafiosi clan in the middle of rural Kileska continent get any manner of traction in a coming conflict such as this? Oh, wait, this is a Gundam story, which means things have a certain trajectory…

On a more serious note, this is and is not a Gundam story — or, alternately, a Gundam story if the authors of Gundam were a little more sensible about what it takes to pilot a very costly and very complex machine such as a Mobile Suit or aircraft. So yeah, an untrained kid falling into a cockpit and somehow surviving getting hammered on by trained professional soldiers is not on the menu here. Slightly more realistic expectations, I daresay. The reason why it is more natural for the citizens of Mendel, though, that factoid will be covered to a good percentage in a coming mainline chapter, and extremely covered in a coming side story I am collaborating on with Takeshi.

Expect gundam-shaped shenanigans and a LOT of blood to come.

On a writing note, I actually wrote out the meat and potatoes of this chapter and the next six before October. This was the story that rebuilt my mojo for writing, and got me back in the saddle. I'm going to publish my mostly-written chapters after completing them one after the next until I run out of staged material, then I'm going to break into another chapter for one of my other stories — not sure which one yet — and take it from there in a rotating cycle. Like I used to do before my writing motivation collapsed. As of when I wrote out these notes, it is 2000 hours local on 30DEC. I'm planning on doing my first document dump either 1JAN or 2JAN.

That's it for this chapter.

NEXT UP: Sionet finds her way to the far end of the Dendez continent from where the Brelle Mafiosi are looking for her, and begins looking for a stable residence and a way to begin training herself up. Meanwhile, the rest of Existence inches closer to the preconditions for coming conflict, with nobody the wiser…

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Review Replies: No reviews yet as of this chapter, as this is part of the initial document dump for this story. Once I have reviews, they will be replied to on the first chapter after the first document push.

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The Gripe Sheet:

Once again, much thanks to Takeshi Yamato for keeping my writing logical and in line with expectations.

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Footnotes:

(1): Maintenance, Repair, and Overhaul. MRO groups are specialists in doing maintenance on a certain type of craft (such as a Mobile Suit) or in doing Component Repair and Overhaul (CRO) on specific components (as in the mentioned example, Engine overhaul).

(2): Space Traffic Control. Analogous to Flight Control inside an atmosphere, these persons direct traffic around the space lanes to ensure that there is a minimum of interference and conflict with massive craft in motion around the area. Any location with large amounts of space stations and space traffic will include at least a minor STC, and the stations typically seen at the zenith and nadir of a system's gravity well will have a full-capability STC.

(3): NATO phonetic for the letters O and M, which is a different way of stating On the Move.