Interlude 1: Bright Noa

Londo Bell HQ, Londenion. Side 1

U.C. 0094.1.1

New year, new problems. Bright Noa wasn't exactly sure where or from whom he had heard that proverb, but he was very inclined to agree with the meaning behind it. Fighting off a budding headache with a sip of water, he tunedback in on the high ranking EFSF officer, the second one today, who had barged into his office and was demanding answers he didn't have.

"-it's been weeks and still the Space Force has been given no updates on the culprits responsible for the Kudelia Incident" The irate officer complained. "Not to mention whatever resulted in the 73rd Patrol Fleet going missing five days ago. It's your job to be ahead of things like these Noa!"

Bright's left eye twitched. The officer had valid complaints, complaints Bright shared, but it wasn't Londo Bell's job to act as an intelligence agency! They were an anti insurgent taskforce. Why was it so hard for those in the Space Force to grasp this?

Still he had to be diplomatic when dealing with officers like this, many in the EFF saw Char's Rebellion as a supreme failure by Londo Bell(entirely disregarding who had allowed Char to get his hands on Axis) and there was still a great deal of interservice jealousy from Londo Bell's formation three years ago. Any slip ups on his part could lead to the entire organization's existence being jeopardized.

"I share the same frustrations as you, Colonel Engelson." He said, maintaining the aura of stoic authority he had cultivated through four wars and maintained during two child births. "Rest assured elements of my command are combing through the last reported locations of the 73rd Patrol Fleet."

"And the Kudelia Incident?" Engelson pressed.

"Unfortunately we've been stonewalled by the local government." Bright explained. "They've claimed rogue elements aided the Remnants and wiped all traces of their dealings before evading capture." Not that he believed that for a second, but Londo Bell's charter didn't extend to arresting members of local government, much less officials of the Republic of Zeon.

"Damn Zekes." Engelson said spitefully. "I knew the captain of the Lisbon, he had a wife and a son back on Earth. The kid just got into Nijmegen Academy." He looked back up at Bright. "If you ever need any help hunting whoever those bastards are Captain Noa, just give me a call."

Bright and Engelson exchanged salutes before Engelson exited Bright's office. Bright leaned back in his office chair with a sigh. At least this conversation hadn't ended with thinly veiled accusations of incompetence. Some days he wished he was back in simpler times, running the White Base or the Temptation. Everything had lined up back in those days. Defeat the Zeon alongside a crew of civilians who knew absolutely nothing about military life and then work on getting the Earth Sphere back on track from the devastation of the war. Huh, or maybe he was just getting nostalgic about being shot at.

Lord knows Bright had been behind this desk at Londenion, managing the paperwork of an ever expanding group, for too long in his opinion. He'd much rather be at the helm of the Ra Cailum, working on figuring out just who was stirring up trouble now, but he had obligations that came before his own personal wants.

Powering on his laptop, Bright reopened the reports that had been compiled on the Kudelia Incident and went back to the task of seeing how it tied to the disappearance of the 73rd Patrol Fleet.

December 17th, a joint EFSF and Londo Bell inspection unit composed of the EFSF Lisbon and LBS Creed reports that it has engaged Neo Zeon ships outside of a remote Side 3 colony and requests backup from any nearby ships. 30 minutes later, it is estimated that the ships are destroyed. Exact time after the transmission is unknown due to Minovsky Particle interference. Nearby Londo Bell inspection ships are stonewalled by Republic of Zeon military ships from reaching Colony Kudelia for a day and when they manage to make it, the Neo Zeon ships have escaped and all possible ways to find out the numbers of the enemy are wiped by rogue colony officials who had been in league with the Remnants. These officials had also managed to 'escape' to places unknown, at least that was what the Ra Chutter had been told.

To Bright the whole affair reeked of a cover up. Federation officials had clamped up when he had sent requests for additional ships, to decrease the chances of another attack happening, to be diverted to the Side 3 inspections. The word of the Republic of Zeon on the matter had seemingly been accepted at face value, and the top brass seemed inclined to let the whole affair die.

Did they not care that 400 men and women of the Federation military had been killed? He had fought with Captain Jones of the Creed during the Gryps War. Bright seriously wondered if all the Titans had been brought to justice at times like these.

At the very least, with Londo Bell's roster being down one, the top brass had decided to allow another Clop-class to be added to the second production run of the class. That brought him up to eight new ships that needed crews, pilots and officers. Something good would come from the disaster.

Then the 73rd Patrol Fleet had vanished in the Pezun Debris Field. Suddenly, he had numerous officers either saying that Londo Bell was being derelict in its duties or that Londo Bell needed more funding in order to hunt down whoever had done this. He was grimly amused that suddenly past detractors had become supporters when they were the ones who had chips in the game.

It'd be humorous if people weren't dying.

Bright had entire teams under time examining these two incidents, trying to see if there was any connection between them. Had an entire patrol fleet been destroyed by Neo Zeon Remnants or had the rumors of a dangerous band of pirates in that region turned out to be true? If Neo Zeon was involved, was it the same ships from Kudelia or another group sensing weakness in the wake of what was already being called the Second Neo Zeon War? The reports from EFSF ships sent to investigate were next to useless in this regard and Federation Intelligence wasn't playing ball with him either.

These uncertainties left Bright, and Londo Bell, floundering in the dark. Others might have been content to wait for whoever had been behind these two incidents to make another move, and hope to get more concrete information after the next one. Bright Noa wasn't one of these people. He'd gladly stumble through this darkness if it meant that he would prevent a war from breaking out, if he could keep the dreams of his departed friends alive.

So Londo Bell was going to keep growing stronger, in the name of the Earth Sphere the AEUG and Karaba had fought for.

"These attacks are awfully close together. Not to mention Axis was only half a year ago." He pondered out loud. "Maybe he managed to survive." It'd make sense, but if a pilot of Char's caliber had managed to survive then surely Amuro, someone who Bright firmly believed had surpassed Char years ago, would also survive ...no such idle hopes were pointless. Bright had spent days searching the battlefield, and no trace of the two had been found.

The official reports were missing in action for the two, but the reports rather ought to say burned up in reentry.

Bright looked over at the picture he had hung in his office, it was a copy of the original he had at the Ra Cailum. He smiled slightly, guessing it was time to get back to work. He phoned his secretary.

"Sarah, could you give Colonel Kajima a call and tell him to report to my office as soon as possible. I have a new posting for him."

Interlude 2: Horst Harness

Grenada City, The Moon. Earth Sphere

U.C. 0094.1.7

If Horst Harness was being honest with himself, he never expected to get another one of these calls, especially one using this channel. After the long months of no contact, he had just about given up hope of ever hearing that annoying chime from the hidden communicator ever again.

When the chime had first gone off, he had dismissed it as nothing. The second time, he realized that the communicator was actually active and stared at it in disbelief after he withdrew it from his hiding place. The third chime had caused him to lock down his office, shutters closing down over his windows, the doors locked and the lights dimming.

Before the fourth chime could ring(and before he could start thinking about Federation commandos busting down the door to haul him off to a dark, dank hole from which he would never reappear), he accepted the call.

"Ah Mr. Harness, it's good to see you. My apologies if this call came at an inopportune time, but Mr. Buyes said you would be free at this time." A voice from out of his dreams, and a face as well, came out of the communicator. Horst's heartbeat stuttered for a second and he distantly wondered if this is what a heart attack felt like before realizing he wasn't in any pain.

"Who are you? Where did you get this channel from?" He blurted out.

The man on screen appeared apologetic before answering. "I am Full Frontal, and I inherited this channel. I suppose it appears Mr. Buyes was right about you not being in the loop with our current affairs."

Horst looked at this Full Frontal, an unusual name even for his line of work. "What does 'inherited' mean? And how do you know Kaises?"

Full Frontal took pity on his bewildered expression and laid everything out to him. How he was the new leader of Neo Zeon, now being called the Sleeves by the rank and file for some reason, now that Char Aznable was dead, killed at Axis like Horst had suspected for all these months. That Neo Zeon was getting itself back on its feet and reconnecting all its resources, starting with its contacts in the expansive Anaheim Network Haman and Char had put together. He had a meeting with Kaises yesterday that ended up with the contracts Char had signed with Anaheim being upheld, and Neo Zeon ship and mobile suit production scheduled to start up again. At least to finish the ships and suits they were contracted to construct.

"And that's why I'm contacting you Mr. Harness. You had a hand in designing the Musaka-class and the design has proven its worth during the Axis campaign early last year." Full Frontal wrapped up his speech. "So I can think of no other person I'd want more to oversee the construction of the last of the current production run of Musakas, even if there are some adjustments to the design I feel that would be useful in the long term."

During the conversation Horst was gradually able to pick up the features that marked Full Frontal as not Char Aznable, the scar, the forehead, the chin. All the small details that the normal observer wouldn't be able to pick up, but he had been dealing with Char Aznable for over a decade. Was it possible that this man was a relative of Char? Maybe, Horst concluded, just maybe.

"Well you flatter me sir." Horst told the mysterious Neo Zeon leader. "But why come to me? Surely Kaises is looking to take up that portion of my tasks himself. He always expressed a desire to."

"Mr. Buyes is handling further negotiation with Anaheim on another assignment and has admitted he doesn't have the experience in this field that you do." Full Frontal answered him.

Horst took a moment to consider the offer. Did he really want to continue on with this path? He had been working with Neo Zeon for just over a decade now, and all it had gotten him was quicker hair loss and an increased workload that he never got thanked for.

No, he admitted, that wasn't really true. Horst had liked the work he did for Neo Zeon, it was something that fulfilled him. He really didn't have anything else he was proficient in that interested him the same way as warship design, his first love. Anaheim had never taken a liking to his designs and had fobbed them off to Neo Zeon in the years before Haman's arrival in the Earth Sphere but that hadn't deterred him! He had proven his design's merits to Neo Zeon and when Char Aznable rose to command them, Horst had been chosen to design the entirety of Char's frontline fleet and Horst had given the Newborn Neo Zeon his masterpieces: the Musaka-class and the Rewloola-class.

Politics had never been his thing, but when he had seen his fleet launching from Sweetwater over the television and heard the powerful speech that accompanied it, Horst felt fulfilled. He remembered the plans he had had for other Rewloola-class ships to be constructed, although Anaheim had only accepted the contract for a single ship of the class to be completed by 0093. Yes, spaceships made him feel fulfilled and happy, so he'd chase that feeling.

Besides, Horst had never been a fan of the design ethos of the Federation's Space Force, they never seemed to grasp the concept that their ships no longer had to move in water. Although the current Londo Bell designs weren't as bad.

Finally he caved to temptation. "Very well, I accept the offer Full Frontal."

The blond haired man smiled at that. "I am happy to hear that Mr. Harness. Welcome back to Neo Zeon."

"Where will I be heading off to?" Horst asked. "I assume you'll want me to head out immediately."

"An accurate assumption." Full Frontal responded. "The ships and mobile suits are to be constructed on La Vie en Rose III, the mobile shipyard that orbits the darkside of the Moon's south pole."

Horst nodded, a finger tapping his chin and his brow furrowed in thought. The pose brings his age into full relief. "I'm familiar with the location, although I've never worked on it before. When can I head over, the work waits for no man after all."

Full Frontal chuckled at that. "As true a statement as any Mr. Harness. Four of my men will arrive at your residence at 2000 EOST, please pack only the necessary items. I look forward to seeing the fruits of your labor first hand."

The communicator shut off as the call ended, but Horst barely noticed it. His mind was already awash with the twirling slivers of warships dancing through the endless stars.

Interlude 3: Bilancia Bea

Calyx Military Port, Palau, Lagrange Point 4

U.C. 0094.1.14 0720 EOST.

"Alright! Bring it in!" A deckhand said as he started waving his controller batons in a come-hither motion. Several other deckhands floating around the approaching ship did the same. The mothballed military port they had come into possession of was lacking in many commodities that they had become accustomed to improvising, 1st Lieutenant Bilancia Bea thought, but one thing he never thought they'd have to improvise was a bleeding guide light array.

But Neo Zeon was ever the font of spacenoid ingenuity, so they had come up with some brave souls with jetpacks and really blinding plasma torches and made it work as evident by the aging Musai-class cruiser that was being guided into port.

Bilancia was floating off to the side, a good distance away from the whole affair, yet he could clearly see the sparks that flew off the metal as the ship and the docking ports ground against each other. He really hoped the captain of that ship didn't mind a little more wear and tear on his vessel. Seeing as he was still captaining an original Musai, Bilancia was fixing to believe the captain wouldn't mind.

Not that Bilancia had any stones to cast in that regard, he mused as he fired his own jetpack and flew over to the now docked Musai. The current ship he was crewed on was a Zanzibar-II probably completed at the same time as that Musai. It'd been a rough journey, about three weeks in total, from the shoal zone of Loum to Palau but they had made it with no contact with the Federation to boot.

And boy, their new leader had put them to work immediately. Juli with her mechanical smarts had been whisked off to help with the modification of some mobile suit hangers, taking the disassembled parts of the four Zaku-IIIs Bilancia's team had been holding onto for three years along for the ride. It'd be good for those suits to finally be activated. Lord knows Bilancia had wished to take one of them out for a spin in the years since Core 3, he'd always liked the look of the suits, brought back fond memories of his souped up Zaku-II taking Feddie names back in 0079. Which he supposed was the purpose of the Zaku-IIIs creation. The rest of Bilancia's team had been assigned to the asteroids defense patrols for the time being, although Bilancia had been assured, as the team leader, that his unit wasn't being disbanded.

And Bilancia, once the new leader had read his service record, was tasked with overseeing the training of the MS Corp here at Palau, getting youngsters into fighting shape and what not. A job he was happy to do, there was a whole unit of pilots whose only combat experience was firing some anti-ship rifles for christ sake! Well, he and his Schuzrum-Gallus had given them a nice wake up call, and he was positive the multi-hour long combat drills he had then sent them running through had gained him some animosity.

Oh well, he could handle the disgruntled mutterings of some freshies, at least they'd have a better chance of still being able to mutter at his back when all was said and done.

The second part of his new assignment was to assess any new mobile suits that made their way to Palau. Not that many mobile suits had actually come to Palau in the eight days since his arrival, only two other ships had arrived and they were passenger liners that had been converted to troop transports, so no mobile suits for him to inspect. That changed with the arrival of the Musai.

Bilancia landed on the boarding ramp of the dock, and turned to the deckhand closest to him. "I'm heading in now, so don't wait on my part." He waved a hand to the deckhand, who looked like a local.

After cycling the airlock, Bilancia tugged off his normal suit helmet and took a breath of slightly fresher air. Ah, what times he had had breathing recycled air like this, it even had that faint rubbery taste that he had learned was the result of some glitch in the manufacturing process the techies had never ironed out. At least before the fall of the Principality, the newer Endras didn't have the air taste he was told.

"You there." He called gruffly out to a crewwoman. "I'm looking for the MS team leader for this ship. I'm part of the inspection team." He gave the lady a look at his order slip, which had a looping 'Full Frontal' signature and Neo Zeon emblem stamped to it.

"Oh Lieutenant Commander should be up heading up to the bridge, you might be able to catch him at the mobile suit elevator if you're quick about it." The woman cheerly informed him as she drifted by, carrying what looked like a hefty assortment of tools to Bilancia.

"Much appreciated, and welcome to Palau!" He called back to her. Let's see, if his memory was right then the elevator in the Musai class should be right around ...here.

Good timing too, that man looked like the Lt. Commander, or at least Bilancia hoped he was or else that custom red and blue pilot suit was going to look awfully garish in the ranks. "Excuse me sir? A moment of your time if you would."

The Lt. Commander halted his movements and abruptly turned to look at Bilancia. The man's grey eyes widened in surprise before his clean shaven face, in contrast to Bilancia's neat goatee, bloomed into a grin. "Bee!? Is that you?"

How had he known his last name-wait a minute Bilancia was just called 'bee' like the insect and he could only remember one friend ever giving him that nickname.

"Worklach?" He asked.

"A-Ha!" Worklach threw his arm around Bilancia in a hug. "I knew that was you Bee, second I heard your voice."

Bilancia returned the hug before laughing himself. "Well I'll be damned Worklach! I thought you were dead!"

Worklach pulled away from the hug, mock horror on his face. "Me, Worklach Banham, ace pilot, dead? Perish the thought Bee, after all" He elbowed Bilancia. "You haven't kicked the bucket yet, so why would I?"

"Guess you're right Work, guess you're right." Bilancia conceded. "Although I see your hair finally got done in." Worklach's once proud black hair had turned grey in the past five years since Bilancia had seen him. Bilancia still had his mop of brown hair.

"Bah, it was the stress Bee. The stress! It did my pride and joy in!" Worklach complained, making wild gestures with his hands in the direction of his hair. He had also cut it short, Bilancia noticed.

The two joked around some more before settling down and getting to work.

"As glad as I am to see you Bee, you sounded like you were in the middle of a job when you arrived."

Bilancia nodded. "I'm the appointed mobile suit inspector for all new arrivals. You're actually the first mobile suits I'm inspecting, the other new arrivals didn't have any."

Worklach winced. "Makes sense, I don't suppose you aren't going to start listing which units get sent to a scrapping facility? Cause some of my pilots got some fond memories of these junk suits we pieced together over the years." He thumbed over at what Bilancia could only dare call a bioweapon due to its sheer ugliness. He powered on his tablet and selected "Scrap" for the two units in the hanger.

"Yeah it was a long shot. Emico and Guns aren't gonna like this, they were fond of the buggers." Worklach conceded. "But you are going to replace them right?" Some authority entered Worklach's voice, reminding Bilancia that his friend had risen higher up the ranks that he had.

"Of course, the new leader is just making sure we aren't losing good pilots due to them piloting outdated mobile suits Worklach. I heard from my guys at the supply corps that a shipment of factory fresh Geara Dogas are due to arrive by the end of the month, giving us plenty of time to get the pilots used to the modern control schemes."

Worklach and Bilancia chatted some more and Bilancia finished his inspection of the remaining mobile suits, including Worklach's Doven Wolf, before the two parted ways with a promise that Bilancia would take Worklach to a nice bar he had found in Corolla A so they could further catch up.

While Bilancia could sympathise with pilots who didn't like their tried and trusted mobile suits being decommissioned, including himself, it was for the better of the military as a whole. It'd lower their casualty rate drastically and allow better standardization, and that was just what Bilancia himself had deduced about the orders. His superiors knew what they were doing, this Bilancia had always believed. They were like family patriarchs in that matter, and the pilots were the up and coming grandchildren who might complain about the wisdom of their elders but always accepted it as being for the best in the end.

Bilancia was a soldier's soldier, in that the military was the only family he had and he considered every member of it to be a brother, sister, or cousin to him. His flesh and blood family had died in the 0050 riots and the military had ended up filling that role when he had enlisted.

He didn't like coming back from a mission and having to see empty mobile suit berths, it pained him in a way that he reckoned was what others felt when close family died. So if he got told that something was going to decrease the odds of those in service with him dying, he'd fly a freaking duck into battle if that was what it took.

All for one and one for all right?