Chapter 23

U.C. 0094.5.22

The Garden of Thorns, Loum Debris Field, L4

How time can fly when you're having fun.

Or in my case, it went 'how time can fly when you are buried up to your neck in work'. Two months since we'd raised hell in orbit above the Moon but it felt like a year had passed. The Garden of Thorns had been turned from a semi-moribund base ,with enough amenities to keep its occupants breathing and warm, to the revitalized heart of a Zeon movement.

The power was back on, heating worked brilliantly, the dry docks and mobile suit repair bays had the rust knocked out of them and the hydroponic farms were churning out fresh produce for the men to enjoy. Delaz really had been living the dream in this shoal zone for those three years before Stardust.

Speaking of a revitalized Zeon movement, we'd been doing the rounds since the jaunt over Luna. News channels couldn't get enough of us so the channels and scream sheets were blanketed with Federation approved talking points about 'the dire consequences that will be in Earth Sphere with this resurgence of Zeon Remnant terrorism'. Zinnerman had reported that this was mostly from organizations that were based on the planet though. The narrative swung our way up here in space.

There were more than a few Spacenoid media companies that were rabidly anti Zeon of course. Hatte and Zahn had long memories in regards to their losses in the One Year War. But they were easily moved aside by forces under my control.

Radio AEUG trumpeted the success of Operation Left Hook and how the resurrected AUEG had come to the aid of protesting workers who were being unjustly cracked down on by Federation troops. Other spacenoid media fonts were neutral towards Neo Zeon or slightly supportive. The reports that came out of Side 3 itself went from wild celebrations in the streets of Zum City, talk show gossiping on if I was actually Char Aznable in disguise, or stern affirmations from the Republic's government that this Neo Zeon was in no way associated with the Republic of Zeon.

Taken all together, I was seeing the results in public perception that I wanted to see. Space was moving in our direction slowly but surely and Earth was its usual hostile self towards us. Zinnerman and I had knocked heads on the best way to take advantage of the media attention long term, but in the short term we both agreed that we needed to keep the media pressure on in order to create the fertile grounds Neo Zeon and the AEUG would need to draw fresh blood in.

Myself, Zinnerman, Nanai and Dawson (the new adhoc High Command), had come up with a twofold strategy for the rest of the year. The first part was a deepening of the fog of war in space. Could't build up our military forces if the feddies were able to find us due to a higher than usual concentration of Minovsky particles. The solution was simple and cheap: we raised the Minovsky particle levels to what we needed them to be. So we'd done a bit of scavenging in the shoal zone, still largely untouched since the Battle of Loum nearly two decades ago, for reactors.

Once the large amount of minovsky fusion reactors had been pulled from the hulks and colony shells that had previously held them, the techs went to work on them. Large reactors were fully repaired, clustered together and then scattered throughout the entirety of the shoal zone. The Minvosky particles had soared after that, blanketing the border shoal zone in a thick layer of communication reducing particles. The interior, and the Garden of Thorns, had significantly less so to not interfere with our communications.

The smaller reactors had been given patch jobs to keep them operational for a short time and then we had strapped them to rockets. These 'abominations' as one mechanic had referred to them as, were hauled into the shipping and commercial lanes around the moon, Loum and near Zeon itself and set loose.

Of course they weren't on a collision course with anything, the reactors simply broadcasted Minvosky particles until it broke back down and shut off and the rocket kept on going until it ran out of fuel. We hadn't created a weapon of war, instead we had slapped together a potent weapon of confusion to send to the feddies. Because when shipping and commercial lanes suddenly blew up with wild spurts of Minvosky particles, just like we had used during Operation Left Hook, the EFSF scrambled to intercept what appeared to be another Neo Zeon strike.

This bogged down travel in the affected area as the Federation locked it down and prevent any ship in the area from leaving until they had been inspected for possibly being Zeon terrorists in disguise. The lengthy wait this created made the spacers very upset with the Federation and wasted the EFSF's time on chasing ghosts.

The Federation wouldn't have kept following our ghost missiles if we didn't give them a reason to after a while however, so we went to the second part of our yearly strategy: convoy raiding.

Our veteran pilots needed to be kept sharp and our new pilots needed to be blooded in real combat. Our newly online foundries also needed bulk materials and the fleet needed fuel to feed itself.

So in the tail end of April, we launched another attack against the Federation. After a trio of reactor-missiles had been sent towards Riah, forcing the EFSF ships to reorient in that direction, the Rewloola, Guskor, Garom and all eight of Zinnerman's Arango-class freighters, which had been heavily modified into disguised corvettes with limited mobile suit capacity of their own, struck a Federation Forces helium-3 depot just outside of Hatte airspace.

Ah, what fun that had been. Complete surprise again and just enough feddie mobile suits for myself and Marida to provide overwatch for the new Newtype Corps to take action against. Had it been a bit selfish to have Jadg Doga's be the first new mobile suits produced at the Garden of Thorns? There was an argument for that, but I thought it was a good way to remind certain people of differing philosophical beliefs that I did value newtypes and the inherent promises their existence gave to humankind.

That and the result of newtypes piloting purpose built mobile suits could not be denied. Angelo and Luger had made aces, with Zechst Ade gaining a respectable three kills under his belt.

In one raid we'd secured enough helium-3 for the fleet's needs for another two years, regardless of differing fuel consumption rates.

The following celebrations had been a good way to bring the ex-prisoners and non-prisoners together in camaraderie. Everyone liked a reason to bust out the moonshine as it were. Angelo even smiled when I gave him his ace pin and the privilege to paint his mobile suit with custom colors. I couldn't remember having seen him smile before that. I hoped then and now that it was a sign that the young man was starting to heal from his past, however minutely.

Nanai, as a key planner of the raid, had regained much of her reputation among the ranking officers. Her presence at war councils wasn't met with much objection any more. Of course I would have to keep an eye on her influence as time went on, I needed to prevent any more 'Let's throw an asteroid at Earth' plans from being created.

The buzzing of my intercom broke me out of my thoughts and my review of charts and graphs that projected Neo Zeon's fuel consumption. I look at the analog clock on my desk, was it really time already?

"Full Frontal." I said after picking up the phone.

"Sir, I have Governor-General Mengamon on line for you." One of my secretaries, Erika from the sound of the voice, said. I guess it was time then.

"Is the line secured?" I asked first.

"Yes sir. Full encryption on both ends has been established and confirmed by the system." Erika replied.

"Then send him through, and inform all other incoming calls that I am busy."

"Yes sir." There was a click as she conjoined the call and then left it herself. I placed the phone on the desk and toggled it to speaker phone.

"You there, Pepe?" I asked. A brief crackling came over the line before the man responded.

"I am here, my friend. Apologies for any noise, we're having quite the celebration over here!" Pepe joyfully said.

I smiled. "So the elections went well then?"

Laughter came over the line. "More than well! A stunning success across the entire Side!" I could hear a muffled cheer come from the other end. Quite the celebration indeed. "We've taken the mayoral seats in sixty-three colonies and the representative seats in an additional seven! A third of the entire Side still supports Riah!"

I heard more raucous cheering and hooting from Pepe's end. I barely resisted the urge to join in but I was smiling widely when I replied.

"A great day for Riah and spacenoids everywhere then."

"I couldn't say it better myself, and as a matter of fact, I think I'll be borrowing those words for my victory speeches!" Pepe exclaimed. He had also been up for election as the Governor-General of Palau, needless to say that he won in a landslide on a local platform of economic revitalization and expansion with his deals with Imago Trading being a flagship example of what his plans would bring to Palau.

So yes, I had done my part to rig the election platform in Pepe's favor. But the actual hard work of campaigning and electioneering on the ground had been done by the Restorationists. To my surprise the Federation had not outlawed separatist parties in general following the so-called Side Reorganization of 0084, which probably came down to them not needing to. If you've already removed the self-governing nature of the Sides and made it so their local legislature (following you graciously allowing them to continue existing) could only act as an advisory body to the Federation appointed colonial administrators, do you really need to ban political parties?

I guess they didn't think so. Fools, the lot of them.

"Be sure to stick to the messaging we agreed on." I cautioned. "Now's not the time to ramp up, you need to get your feet firmly under you in Riah and start your second phase in two months. The feddies are going to be suspicious as it is, let's not throw them a bone we don't mean to throw."

"Ah, I understand perfectly and my deputies do as well." Pepe said. "We've spent so long spinning our wheels uselessly until this moment. Nobody in the Restorationists intends to waste our moment, nor to fail our comrades across the Earth Sphere." He chuckled. "Besides, the time for fire and brimstone speeches will be coming along shortly, eh?"

"True enough, true enough." I ceded.

Once again the noise of the party grew louder on Pepe's end. I smiled and decided that we could talk more in depth later.

"Sounds like you have other matters to attend to, we can meet up tomorrow for a more detailed discussion about our next steps." I told him.

Pepe laughed, giving a happy goodbye and I heard the noise of the party grow louder before the connection was cut off by the call's end. I leaned back into my chair and pondered the situation for a minute. Success on one front and the others had to be nurtured before they could bear the type of fruit seen in Riah. There the Federation had done the work of priming the people for Pepe's messaging through over a decade of typical earth-based mismanagement.

I toasted the Titans with an imaginary glass. Thanks for doing the hard lifting once again.

The gentle chime from my computer drew me out of further rumination for the day. Due to the nature of living in space, each side had been time locked to the part of earth it most closely matched with, though spaceships and military vessels used orbital standard time. So it might be the dead of night for Pepe in Riah, but for me it was the middle of the day.

There was business to attend to.

I left my office, throwing on a freshly pressed scarlet double breasted jacket with gold embellishments that my secretaries and tailor (which I ended up acquiring somehow) had made up for me. As it turns out, the Zeon military had been at the cutting edge of military innovation but at the same time had adopted customs into its officer corps that wouldn't be out of place in the armies of Napoleon's era.

There was a vigorously enforced honor system in the Principality's military, which lent itself to a thriving dueling culture. Officers had to always look their best and at all times represent the esprit de corps of their unit. So you were, when not "on campaign", expected to always be dressed in your best. I, being the Supreme Commander, was held to a very high standard when I wasn't training or fighting.

It was freshly starched and ironed pants, high collared button up shirts and stiff military cut jackets for me each day.

After bidding goodbye to my secretary, I made my way through the administrative block of the base and out into Hall Two, one of the vast spaces in the colony's superstructure that hadn't been turned over to military use, and instead became a thoroughfare to travel the base. Delaz had used the defunct interior space in the repurposed colony, having previously been home to the various organs needed to maintain and regulate an O'Neill type colony, into dry docks, repair bays and mobile suit production lines. A proper military facility.

It would be seven more months before we'd brought everything back online but for the time being Neo Zeon was safely ensconced in half of a colony that was nestled with clusters of rocks to keep prying radar out.

I hopped into a mag-tram that ran along Hall Two and took it down to the intersection with Hall Four, and switched down to that stretch of colonies' tram line. This took me straight to the docks.

There had been easy going, almost sedate attitude among the people I had seen in the administrative block and on my journey here, the docks were overflowing with both people and energy. Members of the supply corps were transporting large crates, filled with all manner of materials needed to feed and equipment my growing war machine, every which way. Then there was the noise of docking alarms from the individual hangers of the port as vacuum was either introduced or atmosphere was being brought in. Outside the walls and observation windows would be the patrolling mobile suits and Gattle fighters that wandered our nest of rock and steel, keeping watch for prying eyes.

Finally there was the shouting. The new recruits needed to be trained after all and since it was doubtful we would ever have the needed parts, knowledge or time to bring the remaining interior of the colony back to life, the recruits got to do their physical conditioning by running the dock loop. I paused on my travels to make way for a passing training company.

The drill sergeant made the ramshackle line halt their run to offer me their best rendition of a salute possible in their current state. I nodded in return to their efforts and motioned for them to be on their way. The insults the drill sergeant started yelling after passing me were highly inventive.

It was good, I reflected, that the decision had been made to send my Titan rescues over to the Moon to join New Desides. With their departure, an undercurrent of tension that I hadn't been aware of, or hadn't consciously registered, had dissipated. There hadn't been any inter factional brawls in over a month.

Making my way through the press of people, I walked into what had been the dock master's office before the war, now it was the command post for the Supply Corps.

"Sir!" The room barked out at my entrance, jumping to their feet as one.

"At ease." I motioned, looking around the room to pick out the man I was looking for. "Sergeant Major Blaze, a moment of your time."

The man, who I guessed to be a veteran of Axis judging by his lingering youth, marched up to me like he was on parade.

"Captain Zinnerman informed me in his latest report that his second in command had delivered a letter for me?" I asked.

"Yes, Supreme Commander." Sergeant Blaze confirmed. "We have followed the captain's instructions on the handling of the package to the letter. Helmsman Schole remains with the package and it has not left his sight since the Garencieres docked."

"Good, good." I nodded at the man's words. "Take me to him."

"Of course sir."

"Ah, Supreme Commander, sir. I didn't know you'd be here to collect this." Flaste Schole, helmsman of the Garencieres and Zinnerman's right hand man, sketched a salute at my entrance. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the deliberate sloppiness. I had once worked alongside Schole when Neo Zeon had first arrived at Palau and he thought, or assumed, this gave him the right to affect a less than proper demeanor when interacting with me.

He was right, I trusted Zinnerman and his ability to cultivate talent and said talent's usefulness to Neo Zeon. Didn't mean it wasn't annoying on occasion.

"Let's see the package." I replied, pulling a key out of my pocket.

"Sure, the cuffs were starting to chaff." Flaste stretched out his left arm, where a thin briefcase was clasped in his hand with a handcuff connecting his wrist and the briefcase handle.

I quickly unlocked the cuff from Flaste's hand and took the briefcase from him.

"Wew, good to have that off." He commented. "Hey you don't need me for anything else right? I have reports to send to the captain."

"You're dismissed Helmsman." I said. "Enjoy the comforts of the Garden while you're here as well."

"Will do, sir!" Flaste sketched another sloppy salute and exited the small room."

"My gratitude for hosting a member of Captain Zinnerman's unit, sergeant." I turned to Sergeant Blaze. "Please give my deepest gratitude to the rest of the Supply Corps for their hard work over the past year. It has not gone overlooked or under-appreciated by myself or the rest of Neo Zeon."

The sergeant puffed up at the praise, and gave me another parade perfect salute. "Thank you, sir. The men, and myself, greatly appreciate your words."

"Keep up the good work, Sergeant Blaze, and victory will be ours."

"Sieg Zeon!"

It was a simple matter to convene High Command for a meeting, there were only four of us: Myself, Hill Dawson, Suberoa Zinnerman, and the newest addition, Nanai Miguel. At the moment the Garden of Thorns hosted three of the four with ZInnerman out doing recruitment drives in the depths of the lunar spaceports.

So it was a small group that looked over the post card size note that had been shipped to us with a nearly ludicrous amount of security protecting it.

The simple note, written on simple paper, provided a date, time and location. Clipped to the note was a single ticket for the grand opening of the Wonders of Ancient Mesopotamia Exhibit at the Institute of History on Side 4's capital, New Miranda.

"And Zinnerman is confident that this is a legitimate meeting?" Nanai asked, looking at Dawson and myself with an arched eyebrow.

"Captain Suberoa was the one approached, not the one doing the approaching. If this was a trap, it should have been closed when they delivered this package." Dawson responded, staring down at the note.

"Though there is something to be said about lying in wait for the big catch." I mused.

"We're not under attack." Dawson retorted. "If I was planning a trap of this kind, I would have launched the attack following the landing of the fake message, not hours later."

"Just like the Federation Forces to have a slow follow through." Nanai said. She was on the other side of the circular table we had these meetings around.

"But unlike Londo Bell, who would be leading any attack against us." I waved a hand in front of me in back and forth motion. "We're getting side tracked. Dawson will double the patrols to be safe though I doubt anything will happen, too much secrecy has been enacted by this party for them to be a Federation plant."

I looked at Nanai. She looked nice today, her hair now reached down to her mid back. I breathed in and mentally refocused, now was not the time. My musing aside, she looked to agree with my reasoning.

"Then I can't go against meeting this person, whoever they are and whoever they represent." She said after a few moments of contemplation. "We need more allies. Or even groups who would be willing to engage in under the table trading with us. Especially if we want to get the mobile suit production lines operational."

Dawson hummed in agreement. I looked over and found that he was now holding the ticket, looking it over in his hands.

"Something interesting?" I asked.

"Hmmm, maybe. Maybe not." He shrugged and put the ticket back on top of the invitation. "I have a faint feeling that I've something similar in a past life. Before the service."

"Do you have something to contribute or are you just here to add to the decor?" Nanai asked somewhat bitingly. She and Dawson had prior history. From what I had uncovered, it was mostly unfriendly history. Dawson was in the navy and Nanai was in charge of the newtype development labs. Two groups whose interests didn't always align during the years of Axis.

"You would know about that." Dawson returned the snipe. "But, if that is a question, then no. I do not have anything further to contribute. This individual has money and resources, clearly indicated by this message making its way to Zinnerman and then us. We need more resources. Therefore the Supreme Commander should attend this meeting."

He looked over at me. "Though not without an escort that can storm the colony should this entity prove hostile. That is all."

Nanai huffed. "He is right, unfortunately. We need to take all opportunities presented to us. The new pilots won't make their own mobile suits."

"Then it's agreed." I clapped my hands together. "Dawson, have Major Silk form up a company from the Attack Force to accompany me to Loum, and alert Zinnerman to my plans. Lieutenant, take charge of overseeing the reactivation processes for the base."

The two of them snapped off salutes at my ending of the meeting. Dawson left without another word, already typing away at a tablet. Nanai had a question.

"Do you have any particular part of the Garden of Thorns that you would like me to focus on?" She asked.

I thought for a moment before replying. "Continue to focus on lodging for the new recruits. Too many are still sleeping in the warships. Work battalions five and nine are back up for duty so put them on that. Leave the others on their current assignments."

"Should I notify you of any emergencies while you're away, so you can handle it directly?" Nanai said.

"No." I replied immediately. "I trust you to handle any emergencies that occur while I'm away and to coordinate with Dawson should you need to. I do expect to be kept in the loop regardless of what's happening."

She seemed pleased by my response. "Of course sir. Have a pleasant journey and come back safe."

"I always try to, Nanai."

As I departed the Garden of Thorns, watching it depart from the viewport of a nondescript passenger liner Zinnerman had bought from a scrapyard, I felt a sense of unease creep up on me. Here I was, yet again, going off to meet with someone who would undoubtedly hold all the cards, and power, over me for the duration of both our discussion and their involvement with Neo Zeon.

I had thought I'd have moved beyond this after the Diyu raid in all honesty. But it seemed to me that I had only made my problem worse.

Now I needed more of everything I had little of before, and Anaheim would only play ball so much. And my funds would only last for so long and my suppliers out in the Belt would only be able to supply me on certain times due to the length of travel.

So I needed someone closer to home to feed my hungry war machine the raw and refined materials it needed to stay operational. Especially if I wanted the Geara Zulu line to be put into production any time soon.

That was something I was desperate to start. The Doga design was showing its flaws with every major combat operation we went on. The mobile suit was a fine interceptor model but it was horrendous in fuel consumption and had drastically lower operating time than any of the Axis designs we had in service.

At least I could hope that I didn't have to deal with another Martha Vist with this meeting. Zinnerman had given me all the information he had drawn up about this entity that had found him, and he hadn't unearthed any ties to Anaheim.

Small mercies.

Hopefully Zinnerman wouldn't be too upset with me bringing a full company of the Attack Force along with me. The Garencieres didn't have a very large kitchen or food stocks.

Maybe Marida would appreciate the company, some of the soldiers looked to be around her age.

I decided that I was going to have her in the room when I told Zinnerman he was in charge of feeding and bunking seventy-eight soldiers. That should keep him calm.

I hope.

A/N: As SI Frontal has found out, you can indeed suffer from success. Mobile suits are resource intensive to produce and maintain. It's not like Zeon would have a hope of winning a convention ship to ship war against the Federation.

For those who have forgotten, as I almost did before checking my notes, in this story the Sides were not moved during the reorg of 0084, rather some just got their assigned numbers flipped around. A deliberate move by the Federation to tamp down on emerging/existing spacenoid nationalism following the reincorporation of Riah and the Delaz Conflict.

So when we say Side 4 in this fic, we are talking about Loum instead of Moore, which is the new Side 6. Hope that clears up confusion.

And we're also heading towards the reveal of the second to last member of the Neo AEUG. Shouldn't be that hard to figure out who I'm aiming for if you know your UC history but I'll leave it for the next chapter to introduce them instead of in this note.

See you all next time. Merry Christmas as well!