U.C. 0094.6.1
The Australian Outback
The sun was a tyrant greater than any mankind had ever produced, I decided, taking another deep drink of water from my canteen. After stowing the canvas wrapped canteen back on my belt, I futilely tugged the brim of the flop hat down to try and give myself more shade. The sun continued to creep high in a cloudless blue sky above.
I hate the heat. I had in my prior life and it was somehow even worse now. Probably due to having spent all my time in strictly climate controlled environments before this forced detour. So I wasn't having the best of times, standing out here in the red dirt of the western Australian Outback, supervising the work of lifting the Garencieres out of the ditch that our forced landing had put it in.
I was apparently too high ranking to take part in the menial labor, a fact that every one of my subordinates had been against when I had raised the matter, but I was determined to at least look like I was assisting with the preparations. What were we preparing for exactly?
Help.
Because despite having over a hundred people and one semi useful mobile suit(once Tomura and his gang of mechanics finished recalibrating the AMBAC system on the Kshatriya and the two Geara Dogas for gravity operations), you needed way more mechanical power in order to lift a spaceship.
Luckily for me, I was the man who commanded, in theory, a large and dispersed guerilla movement across the entire Earth who had access to the exact things I needed to escape this oppressively hot ball of dirt and go back to my swanky air conditioned room with its silk sheets and running water, assuming the Remnants would take orders from me.
Did I mention that I'd never met any of the leaders I had managed to get in contact with over the encryption Zeon channels before now? The nearest of which were taking the direct route to my position and would be arriving by the end of the day? Fun times.
Assuming, of course, that we all weren't about to be punked by Londo Bell and turned into nice little dust piles from a beam weaponry bombardment.
I pushed the errant worry to the back of my mind. Earth was large and the Federation's military was sparse following the devastation of the wars against Zeon and its heirs along with the great intercine fighting between the first AEUG and the Titans. Surely if they knew what the Garencieres really was and who was on board it, we never would have been able to approach the shoal zone.
So, I was still stuck on the dirt until we got enough machine power to lift the Garencieries into a position where the mechanics could see what repairs needed to be made in order to get back in the air and then onto space. I still needed to meet with people I could only claim the obedience of in the vaguest of senses and get them to commit valuable manpower and even more valuable material to getting my ship out its sticky situation with nothing to promise them in return.
Oh and I didn't have a mobile suit. Sure I could commandeer one of the two Geara Dogas, but that would just put our small force here out a pilot. I would also be less effective than that suit's original pilot due to my unfamiliarity with the small optimizations and customizations that had been made to suit the first pilot's skills.
Also felt like a dick move to be honest.
I looked away from the horizon and checked the time on my wristwatch. It was getting close to the arranged meeting time. Then the buzz of the radio appeared, the outlooks had sighted the dust plumes of our allies' approach.
Showtime.
We greeted our guests under the shade of a tarp, thank God, where the shade was not as hot as the naked sun. Someone had found a few folding chairs for everyone of rank to sit on and three circular metal tables to hold refreshments.
Refreshments in this case being half a glass of water each. Truly we were the embodiment of refinement.
All who gathered under the tarp were wearing variations of the same uniform but that surface level similarity did nothing to hide the divisions among our ranks. My men wore the newest and cleanest uniforms, smart olive green with gold trim up the torso and buttons. I wore my red double-breasted jacket with its gold trim and high collar -I was baking underneath it- and Marida was wearing a similar jacket with a light purple color.
A move closer to what I remembered her wearing in two years, though it still had sleeves.
Zinnerman had set aside his trenchcoat and green sweater, or else he would have dropped from heatstroke, and was wearing a set of off white khaki uniform.
Our opposites were an eclectic bunch. Two of the groups were dressed in threadbare and patched uniforms from the Principality, greens and tans. Some had taken away the sleeves of their uniforms while others had scarves and headdresses on.
The other group had uniforms that were only worn instead of threadbare with black and gold being the dominant color among them, along with a majority of the vests that had clearly been issued as vests instead of being modified into them. Clearly they had originated from Axis during the first Neo Zeon war.
And we were all clearly taking in the sight of each other. I wonder what they thought of the mobile suits off in the distance, could they see the line of descent from their own suits?
I made the first move, figuring that since I had called them here I had the duty to be a good host.
"Greetings from the forces of Zeon in space comrades." I stepped forward and waved at the water. "While I have only been Earthside for a short while, I'm sure being able to wash the dust from your mouths before we start discussions would be welcomed."
Zinnerman had suggested it to me, citing 'desert hospitality' that he had picked up while he had been deployed in Africa during the One Year War.
My words brought the leaders of the three parties out of their silent observation. They stiffened to attention, saluting me before turning and ordering their soldiers to drink before them. We three sipped at our glasses after I motioned to one of the guards to bring enough water for their counterparts.
"Now that we're all refreshed, I believe introductions are in order." I said. "I am Full Frontal, Supreme Commander of Zeon. This is Captain Suberoa Zinnermand of the Garencieres and Lieutenant Marida Cruz, pilot of the quad wing. My thanks for responding so promptly to our communications."
A bit of a fib for my title as it currently stood
One of the three leaders nodded and spoke. "Of course, we are always interested in aiding our comrades in space." The man pointed to himself. "Major Yonem Kirks, commander of the Simbu Base Corps."
Ah so there he was, the Zaku sniper himself. He looked as I expected him to look: tanned skin, slicked back black hair and a full chin puff goatee. Kirks was dressed in the same threadbare olive green uniform from the One Year War as the rest of his group, which was also the largest of the three Remnant bands who had been close enough to answer my message.
So Simbu Base was probably close by.
"A pleasure Major Kirks."
"Pshah." The other man dressed in a principality uniform snorted. "Our pleasure, or yours?"
He had a wild look about him, a fully grown and untrimmed beard and a shock of long hair that stood up every which way from his head. He too was tanned like Kirks, but I judged that to not be his natural coloring due to the tan lines around his neck.
"I don't take your meaning…" I trailed off.
"Captain Graw, Fourth Terrestrial Mobile Division." He introduced himself through pursed lips. "What I mean is that it certainly is convenient that you are always in need of something whenever we meet."
"Is it not the nature of comrades to offer each other aid when in need?"
He sneered. "You lot always seem to be in more need than we are. Always taking and never giving back so the fight could continue down here."
"Oh really?" The third man, the one dressed in the black and gold BDU from Axis, interjected. "I seem to remember you being awfully happy to accept the Capules we offered you in eighty-nine, Graw."
"Shut the fuck up Jamico." Graw leaned towards the younger man. "Your asteroid masters are back now so why don't you fall back in line like a good little toy soldier and leave to real fighting to men like me and Kirks."
Jamico, clean shaven and with a military crew cut after all these years on Earth, bristled at Graw's condensation.
"Graw!" Kirks barked. "We're all on the same side here."
Graw seemed to settle down at Kirks words though everyone could tell that his choler was still up.
"Major Kirks speaks the truth." I spoke. "Captain Graw also speaks the truth."
I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the circular metal table.
"We are in need of your help. Our ship was forced to make an Earth descent after being intercepted by a Federation customs ship. We did so in order to not lead the Federation back towards our main base. As you can see, we were able to land in one piece. However we need to unearth our ship and take stock of her condition."
I pointed at the three Remnant band leaders.
"This is why I reached out to you. I understand that mobile suits are precious resources for all of us, but we need your help in order to unearth the Garencieres and return to space before Federation forces come looking for us."
Jamico with his Axis uniform spoke up first. "My men and I stand ready to assist you in whatever manner is needed, sir."
"Speak for yourself Yular." Surprisingly it was Kirks who said those words. He stared at me with intense focus on his dark eyes. "Everytime we move in force we are taking the risk of annihilation by the federals. You are right, we can assist you in unearthing your ship. But we don't have machinery capable of doing it so we'd have to use our mobile suits and hovercraft in order to do it. That much movement by even our three groups will have the EFF buzzing around like hornets who just had their nest punt kicked. We need something more than 'helping the fight' to give to our men in order for them to commit to this move."
Not the words I was hoping to hear from the man who would, in another time and place, orchestrate the punitive raid on Dakar itself with nothing more than three mobile suits and one experimental mobile armor. Then again that was two years in the future in different circumstances and different people.
Certainly Zinnerman and Marida weren't the people they could become during the Hunt for Laplace's box and hopefully they wouldn't as I was rather invested in not having a crucial part of my faction turn against me. I also like them personally so double the investment on my end.
"Your concerns are completely reasonable, Major Kirks. I would have them myself if I was in your place." I spread my hands in a conciliatory manner. "Allow me to alleviate them. What can your comrades assist you with in return for your assistance? We are all fighting the same war with the same enemy."
"Har!" Captain Graw slapped his knee in turn with his laughter. "Unless you have a dozen spare mobile suits crammed in that ship of yours that you'd be willing to give away or spare parts for a dozen different models, I doubt there is much you can offer us."
Even Jamico, who looked to be my strongest supporter of this group, looked to be swayed by Graw's words, which I completely understood as I had to deal with the same concerns as they did. Where to commit valuable war material in the manner that would benefit our struggle. War material that you never had a surplus of.
Only the Federation had the luxury of always having its depots and coffers full in the ongoing struggle.
I paused, thinking back on my thoughts. Only the Federation had a consistent surplus.
"You are right Captain Graw, I do not have what you are looking for, though I wish I did." I spoke, then put my thoughts to words. "However I know exactly who does."
"But firstly, are any of your groups based in Australia itself?" I asked.
"My boys are." Graw informed. "Northern coast for the most part. Simbu Base is up in Indonesia and Jamico's men are in a crashed ship up in Indochina's mountains."
"It's actually New Guinea, but we operate on other islands." Kirks expanded on Graw's statement. Jamico merely nodded in confirmation.
"And the strength of the EFF in Australia is lackluster compared to regions such as Europe and the Americas?"
"That has been the case since the seventy-nine." Kirks said again.
I grinned. "Then I know the perfect place to get the supplies and mobile suits you need."
Because if Torrington Base is backwater enough for the Federation Forces to still station Titan suits as part of its mobile suit corps, then why wouldn't they do the same for the rest of the continent?
Everyone cottoned onto the statement quickly.
"You want us to pilot feddie suits?" Kirks asked incredulously.
"Only the good ones." Jamico chimed in before addressing me. "My unit uses several Marasais we liberated during our Earth Descent Operation. We wouldn't be able to find any better ground use mobile suits that we could maintain."
"Assuming we don't destroy them in the fighting." Zinnerman groused, speaking for the first time. Marida nodded in support of her "master's" words.
"The feddies don't like to use Titan suits." Captain Graw said. "Even when we've raided them, they haven't scrambled anything newer than a GM II. Even though they had six Hizacks in their hanger they could have used them against us!" He shook his head in bemusement at the seeming stupidity of the Federation Forces.
I knew the situation was more complicated than how Graw and Jamico laid it out to be, thanks to the reports saved on Char's tablet and other sources of information Nanai and Hill Dawson had shared with me. The Federation Forces had to balance public opinion in the wake of the Gryps War and the need to keep their mobile suit strength high in the face of Neo Zeon and the contolist terrorist groups of the early 0090s. So they kept select Titan suits onboard but kept them well out of sight.
Mothballed in effect but mothballed didn't mean inoperational.
"It would benefit our raiding if we could obtain more Zaku Mariners." Kirks openly mused, scratching his chin beard.
I addressed Captain Graw. "I assume you know the locations of the local EFF bases in the outback?"
He grinned savagely at me, a malicious light glinting in his eyes. "Of course we do."
"And we have the instruments on the Garencieres needed to scout them once she's airborne and the ability to broadcast more minovsky particles than your mobile suits could. We'd be able to seal them off from the outside world and attack at our leisure."
Even stern Kirks was smiling slightly now. "They'd know where we attacked but nothing else. Until we hit the next target."
"It would have to be a blitzkrieg strategy." Zinnerman warned. "If we get caught on just one that proves to be a hard nut to crack then the feddies would be swarming us within the day."
"So we chose our targets carefully. The ones that are the most isolated. Does the Garencieres need any special equipment to return to space once we have her airborne?" I said to Zinnerman. He groused in his thoughts before responding.
"I'd prefer a booster but it's not needed." I smiled.
"Then it looks like our course is set gentlemen. Now let's get down to business."
What followed was a back and forth discussion on who, what, where and when our attacks on the choicest Federation bases in Australia would occur. Despite the nagging remarks the three men liked to direct at each other, they already had a working relationship. I was able to insert myself and Zinnerman quickly into the existing comradery.
Being the people who can provide modern mobile suit support and superior overwatch for the first time in over a decade does have its advantages in getting you in people's good books. And they were kind enough to loan us a water extraction machine so we all didn't die of thirst.
It would take four days for Captain Graw's people to identify the bases they believed to have concentrations of mobile suits, and were sufficiently undermanned, to put on our hit list. This would be done with the assistance of local anti-Federation guerillas that Graw had good relations with from the old days.
Seven days for Kirks and Jamico to rally their warbands and relocate to the outback while dodging Federation patrols. On day five the Garencieres would be unearthed. Day seven she would be put back in the air. Day eight our forces would be reunited and on the start of day nine the offensive would begin.
The plan ended on Day Fourteen when we'd disperse on the shores of Australia's northern coast. My contingent headed back up into space while the remnants went back to their areas, better armed and motivated to obey my commands in the upcoming war.
That was the real stickler, they needed to be ready and willing to do what I commanded them to do when the time came. Because I was going to have to return to this part of the world in two years to unlock as part of the Laplace Hunt. And that would be all the more easier with ground support to call on.
Then there was the other matter, which Zinnerman stated after we had broken the planning session for dinner.
"This seems like a lot of additional work for the same result in the end." He told me while we ate in the cool shadow cast by the Garencieres' bulk.
I shrugged and chewed before responding. "Maybe but this has become more important for our long term goals."
"How so?" Zinnerman asked. I did some more chewing before responding.
"Because I need them to obey me when the time comes. When the actual war breaks out." I clarified.
"Having the AEUG supporting Neo Zeon is needed but we'd be fools to ignore the dozens of guerilla bands that are scattered across the Earth, hidden in out of the way places. All them seething with the wounds and anger of lost wars. All of them itching to get back at the Federation in any way, big and small, that they can manage."
"Now they'd be irritants to the Federation if left to their own devices but I don't need irritants who launch their own uncoordinated attacks in response to our actions like what happened after Left Hook." Those had been great for spooking the Federation even further but those groups who hadn't been able to retreat and hide in time had gotten smacked down hard. The most irritating part was that there clearly hadn't' been any goal besides a desire to kill a few feddies in most of the attacks.
"And the plan to get them onboard is to…fight with them a few times?" Zinnerman said skeptically. He had the broad idea but didn't understand.
"The plan is for me to lead them in a unified manner they haven't experienced in years to a string of victories they haven't lived in years." I took another bite of the beef stew that was for dinner today. "It's what I did to assume leadership of Neo Zeon when the Federation was closing in in 0093. Now I'm going to repeat the process with these stranded comrades on Earth so that when I leave, they will feel once again that they are part of a larger struggle."
I used my spoon to gesture at the horizon. "I don't need a dozen irritants that are wiped out in turn by the EFF for my war. I need a hidden fist lurking in the shadows of this planet, all of them ready, willing and able to emerge as a steel fist when called up to give the Federation a nice liver shot while they are fighting it out with us in space. I need a second front ready to be opened when I give the command."
I looked at Zinnerman. "You spent time on Earth after the war ended. Can you honestly say that they wouldn't continue on fighting small battles with the Federation until they couldn't maintain their suits any more or died of old age if left to their own devices?"
"No." was the eventual reply.
"So I'm going to perform the same miracle I did for Char's men again. Victory from the jaws of inevitable defeat and by the end of this little lightning war, Suberoa, Zeon's going to have an earthside army again."
"Sieg Zeon." Zinnerman said dryly. He looked happy and I wondered if he was thinking of his long sought revenge for a lost family. Good, I needed him to be engaged in the fight, not just going through the motions. That is how a spunky gundam pilot gets you to defect.
We didn't talk about our reasons for fighting, Zinnerman and I. Wasn't the kind of people we were. We worked together just fine without them. Still I made sure to have these kinda affirmative talks about the fight with him when the opportunity presented itself.
"Sieg Zeon, indeed." I noticed we had both finished our stew. "Now let's go get Hill and Nanai on the horn, and let them know about the change of plans."
A/N - So the Remnants get involved in the plot, as I had always intended them to be. One of the gripes I had while watching Unicorn was that while the Remnants certainly seem to have respected Full Frontal as a ranking officer in control of the zeon space forces, the relationship seems to be like that of respect towards a different theater of the conflict who didn't have direct command over them. A relationship that canon Frontal seems to have encouraged.
So that was something I wanted to change for this story, because being able to coordinate attacks against the Federation and include earth remnants in the overall plan is what has historically given success to Zeon like in the Delaz Conflict. And we see Frontal's first moves to make that happen in this chapter. Next chapter will be the Outback Blitzkrieg and all the fun older suits I get to play with in the action setpieces.
