Relevant notes are at the end of the chapter

-000-

Mobile Suit/Mass Effect

Episode 2:

The Fateful Battle

-000-

Malcolm's head was going a lightyear an hour. This was NOT how this expedition was supposed to go! This was supposed to be an easy posting, a routine job! They were supposed to have gone in, survey the area, and get back to Shanxi in time for the summer festival! Surveys like these have gone smoothly dozens of times by this point. Hell, he'd even taken part in a few of them! Malcolm started biting on his fingernails, trying to distract himself from the incoming headache and get back to the job at hand... not that he seemed to be needed anymore. Between the increasing comms interference from the Minovsky particles, and the aliens seemingly moving to engage, Malcolm wasn't sure they needed him all too much.

He shouldn't have taken this job. He really shouldn't have. He should've listened to what his father said, to take a quieter posting somewhere in the Inner Sphere. Becoming a desk jockey was starting to look like the much better choice in hindsight. Malcolm came to the Space Force looking for excitement, to explore new worlds and discover the galaxy... but quickly found he had no stomach for it when that excitement came from discovering a hostile alien race.

"Blue team, launching!" He heard Lieutenant Kreusgluck announce on the Battle Network. Lieutenant Hedder would announce his departure shortly after.

Malcolm cursed quietly to himself. He had been distracted again. His thoughts had been running amok since he picked up the comm echoes a mere few hours ago, and it's been getting worse since. It was hard to focus on his job when he was going through an existential crisis.

The Warrant Officer clutched his head as the weight of what was going on began to crystalize in his head.

War.

They were at war.

-000-

"Status update on Commander Trevanian's squadron?" Magarius asked his subordinate. "Have we regained contact with them yet?!"

To call the situation in the watchpoint tense would be an extreme understatement. He'd watched as the patrol squadron blink in and out of sensors starting around ten minutes ago. The time they'd go off sensor would increase with each subsequent disappearance. Now it's been over a whole minute since they've last shown up as a blip.

Magarius began tapping his foot impatiently as he bore holes into his subordinate with his eyes.

"N-no... No, sir." That same nervous subordinate which first reported of the aliens answered. "The interference from that strange radiation is only getting stronger. The closer Commander Trevanian's squadron gets to the alien contacts the worse our connection gets. Spirits, we're not even picking up echoes or scrap data anymore!"

The captain had to suppress a snarl from coming out of his mouth. He wanted to chide his subordinate for both his failures, and for using the Spirit's name in vain, but held back. Much as he didn't like the situation as it currently stands it wouldn't do for him to lash out like a brutish Batarian slave driver. He clenched his fist and began thinking of solutions to his current problem.

It seems all but confirmed that the damnable radiation was the source of all this horrid comms interference. Whatever wild energies of whatever reaction was causing that radiation was enough to scramble frequencies in its immediate presence. Broadcasting messages in a powerful, high frequency wavelength could potentially break through the interference... but doing this was normally avoided by military ships since it meant whoever was transmitting on that frequency would show up like a giant Sur'keshi fountain candle. Magarius' thoughts lingered on this as a solution, but he quickly realized this would only work if the receiver was close by. Given the distance between the watchpoint and Trevanian's squadron that wasn't exactly a solu-

Wait.

Magarius' thoughts stopped in their tracks.

The receiver had to be close by and the watchpoint was not. This was true.

But what if there was another receiver, deployed much closer to Trevanian's squadron? What if that receiver then rebroadcasted to yet another receiver much closer to the watchpoint, which said watchpoint could then safely connect to?

"Check in with the Quartermaster for comm buoys!" The captain spoke to his aide, his voice even tempered despite the stress on his mind. "Get whatever shuttles or patrol craft that aren't currently predisposed, and have them setup a comm buoy line on..."

Magarius looked at the holographic map of the star system. Trevanian and the aliens were on the far side of the system, on the other side of the star itself. If he could establish a large network of comm buoys, he could reestablish a link with the squadron. After looking through the map, he picked out several locations which the captain believed created interlinking chains that could relay messages from the watchpoint to Commander Trevanian's formation, and vice versa.

"...these locations." Magarius finalized.

His aide quickly nodded and rushed to execute his orders.

Sometimes his peers in the academy would call him overly cautious, paranoid, or even obsessed with being in control. Magarius didn't think that was true. He was just being prudent. Sure, a squadron like Trevanian's shouldn't face too much trouble from a small formation like they've encountered...

However, it pays to have a backup plan, and a backup plan to that backup plan for that matter. This isn't to disparage Trevanian's skills, Spirits knows he's probably on track to becoming an admiral one day. Doesn't matter if the Commander might take offense to it. At the end of the day, Uriah Trevanian was just another Turian...

And Turians can make mistakes.

-000-

I felt the G-forces press me into my seat as I launched from the Risima's catapult. As the crushing force dissipated, I turned my unit's head and saw both the rest of Blue Team, as well as Red Team launching from the ship. Once we had all launched, the cruiser fired its maneuvering thrusters, making a high-g turn starboard, then brought about its turreted beam cannons towards the enemy formation.

"Irena, you remember the plan?" Verns asked over the battle network, his voice calm and professional even in this hectic situation.

"Blue Team will run interference while Red Team will flank around and hit the enemy battleship." I answered matter of factly. "Or are you getting cold feet and would rather swap?"

"We stick to the plan." He simply answered.

Oh well, seems like I won't be getting a rise out of him. Perhaps it's best I try not to banter too much for this mission, considering what's at stake.

It felt odd, really. I don't think it's really settled in yet that we were fighting aliens. Launching, planning, and bantering like this felt no different from past operations against Separatist cells and warbands. Maybe that was just the years of training and experience kicking in... Maybe it was my mind subconsciously trying to find comfort in this hectic situation... Maybe I was overthinking things again.

My team of Gunstrikes flew headfirst into the enemy formation, weapons armed and ready to fire. As fate would decide, the enemy fired first.

A loud, low pitched alarm filled my ears, followed by warning signs appearing on my helmet's HUD. The enemy was using some sort of RADAR based system to target my mobile suit. I had to supress a smirk from growing on my face.

So the enemy was still using RADAR for their fire control system? Here I was thinking they were more advanced than we were. Every gunner, every pilot, every officer in the Congressional Space Force had it drilled into our heads that RADAR was fine for finding and tracking targets... but locking on? In a Minovsky Particle polluted battlefield? You'd have an easier time trying to find an easier politician!

RADAR lock warnings were soon replaced by missile alarms as a salvo was launched from the enemy formation. With practiced precision, I activated my suit's head mounted beam vulcans and began shooting down the missiles most likely to hit. Simultaneously, I jinked my suit left to right, then right to left, firing flares as I flew at high speeds. With how thick the Minovsky Particles have gotten since the engagement started, it was exceedingly easy to break the missile lock.

With the missile tone gone, the low pitch whine of the RADAR warning returned. Quickly, I spared a glance left and right at my wingmen. They made it through the missile attack unscathed as well. Now that was worth cracking a smile over!

"Blue team, cover me!" I ordered. "We're going after the cruiser on the far right!"

It was important we drew as much attention as possible while Red Team snuck their way towards the enemy battleship. That being said, being a distraction didn't mean my team wasn't allowed to dish out some hurt of our own.

Enemy flak fire began buffeting my mobile suit, their proximity fuse shells detonating ahead of me, showering my unit with shrapnel. I quickly raised my shield, blocking out the worst of the follow up explosions. This was just in time as lasers quickly burned through the void after. Not beams like we in the Space Force had become accustomed to seeing and firing. Not high density Minovsky particles, condensed into a launchable projectile. No, it was concentrated light at a high frequency, fired from the enemy cruisers. These laser batteries must have relied on the RADAR system, because even though a few shots landed on my shield, more barely missed my suit as I continued to zig and zag as I closed in.

The enemy's attempts to hinder my approach were largely ineffective, letting me reach the effective firing range of my beam rifle. I slowed down my suit, taking an oblique attack position, taking aim, then prepared to fire.

Concentrated Minovsky particles gathered into a powerful projectile. It didn't matter where I was aiming at the ship. A beam shot was guaranteed to hurt, even if it was just from a mobile suit's rifle. I squeezed the trigger and the beam leapt from my rifle, blazing across the void right at the enemy ship...

And was unceremoniously deflected mere meters away before making contact with the hull. The beam shot broke apart, like a violent water balloon slamming into a glass wall standing in-between me and my quarry. It barely left a red mark on where the hit should have landed.

"They have an I-Field?!" I half asked, half exclaimed.

I couldn't afford to think about it for too long as the ship retaliated with a fusillade of flak and lasers. I quickly jetted backwards, once again taking the worst of the hits on my shield and dodging all the others I could.

"Enemy warships are equipped with some sort of anti-beam barrier!" I reported once the ship's barrage started calming down.

Even as I spoke, Blue Team continued our assault. Blue 2 approached in a similarly oblique angle, high to the right of the enemy ship. He fired three successive shots from his beam rifle, each shot being deflected similar to mine, each shot barely scorching the hull behind.

It wasn't until Blue 3 stepped up to the attack that things changed. I watched as he took an aggressive firing position, going high above the enemy warship until he was parallel with the alien cruiser. This was an exposed firing position, trainers in piloting academy always warned to avoid attacking in a straight angle like this. Attacking from head on like this meant all those guns on the deck had a clear shot at you... and with that many guns hounding you, the chances of a hit landing on your suit increased dramatically.

A cold sweat formed on my brow. I saw, almost in slow motion, as the topside guns all turned in unison to target Blue 3. He quickly inverted his machine, shield facing down and rifle peeking through the side. My wingman then fired a single shot from his rifle.

The beam shot was loosed, leaving the beam rifle's barrel at high speed, the energy bolt glowing a dazzling purple and pink as it did. The shot slammed into the alien ship's barrier, and for a moment it seemed like the shot would break apart like a wave breaking upon the sea wall, but what happened was nothing like what I was expecting.

The shot broke through.

Cutting through the barrier, the beam bolt pushed through the invisible barrier, sparks and electrical discharge arcing out around where the shot overpowered the opposing force. Even in its diminished state, the bolt then cut through one of the enemy cruiser's many secondary turrets. The immediate explosion upon the hull wasn't anything special. What was spectacular were the secondary explosions that followed. The smoke from the initial explosion dissipated quickly, revealing a clean, molten red hole on the turret where the beam shot had landed. Seconds later, that hole bulged out, then exploded like a volcano. The only time I've ever seen this kind of explosion was that time I shot down a Separatist munitions transport. It was obvious to me now, that whatever materials the aliens were using for their ship armor wasn't at all suited to defending against beam weapons. The explosive ammo which was stored under the turret must have cooked off after the shot penetrated the armor.

"Hah, I knew it!" Blue 3 yelled triumphantly on the Battle Network. "Their barriers only deflect beam shots at an angle!"

I can't even begin to guess how Blue 3 got to that conclusion from only watching 4 shots get deflected, but I'm thankful he figured it out regardless.

With that sorted out, we quickly remade our plan of attack. Like a well oiled machine, the three of us pulled back in perfect sync, taking a more aggressive angle in our next attack. We stuck together, now dashing forward in a spiraling formation, shields facing the enemy as we closed in. When we reached our effective firing range, we split apart, like a bursting flower separating in different directions. I would take the more dangerous angle of attacking the top, Blue 2 would take the side of the enemy ship, while Blue 3 would strike from below.

It was just liked we practiced, like we've done so many times before in our many engagements against the many Separatist cells and warbands. Though I suppose in those instances, we avoided taking the extremely aggressive and exposed angles we currently were going at.

Between the three of us, we must've landed some 30 or so shots within the few minutes we kept up the assault. Between each shot, we'd reposition. Sometimes we'd boost a dozen or so meters to our side, sometimes we'd even swap attack angles with each other, but the end result was the same: we deftly dodged enemy fire while raining absolute hell on them. Hit after hit slammed right into the hull, and while some of the shots failed to penetrate when hitting the thicker sections of the armor, the ones that did penetrate caused massive havoc inside enemy ship. Despite this, we didn't totally destroy the cruiser. The beam bolts we fired shed significant amounts of energy while burning through that barrier of theirs. I've seen what our beam rifles could do to an unarmored vessel.

Let's just say, all that was left was dust and echoes.

We concluded our first assault, pulling back hard and fast as the other enemy warships finally wised up and began tightening their formations. As for the cruiser we attacked, we did a major number on it. The attacks must've damaged their attitude control system, or maybe nicked their Mass Effect core. The ship in question rapidly began listing to the left and fell out of formation. Even if it managed to survive this battle, I hazarded a guess that it will likely take a while until it could be brought back to battleworthy condition.

In other words? It was a clear, unquestionable, lopsided success.

I would've ordered Blue Team to dive right back into the fray, but the enemy's closer formation meant they could overlap anti-air fire. We got lucky with the first ship, considering the aliens didn't know what they were up against. I doubt they'd fall for the same tricks a second time. With that in mind, we had to play it much safer the next time around.

Maintaining our distance, we began zipping around, from ship to ship, firing whenever the opportunity presented itself. Given that we weren't making a concerted effort, and given that there were only three of us, we only did minor damage. A handful penetrations were made, a few were blocked by the armored hull. More were deflected by the alien barriers. With their formation adjusted, we couldn't easily make such direct attacks anymore. Add to that the overlapping anti-air fire, opportunities to deal real damage were few and far in between.

That was fine though. In fact, this was playing right into our plans. While the aliens were busy trying to swat us down, Verns and his Red Team had successfully made his way to the enemy's flank, and were poised to strike.

Now is when this little skirmish turned into a real battle.

-000-

"Where is that firing solution?!" Trevanian all but demanded.

In a few short minutes this operation turned from an admittedly heavy handed policing action, to a fight for survival. It was a testament to the commander's training, experience, and tempered discipline that he was quickly able to shake off the shock and reorganize his squadron.

The frigate Darius Aggripinax was out of the fight, knocked out by a mere three strike craft.

That might've sounded like total failure and incompetence to an outsider looking in. After all, only a truly stupid and incapable ship's captain wouldn't be able to swat away three strike crafts. The problem arose, when the entire squadron learned the hard way that these weren't regular strike craft.

The aliens launched some sort of... bipedal weapons system. It was vaguely Turioid in shape, though it wasn't a match. Clearly it was modeled more after the race that was piloting it. It came complete with arms, legs, and what appeared to be a hand held weapon. Trevanian didn't think much of it at first. It might have been a high caliber weapon of sorts, something like a tank's cannon judging by the size of the thing. It shouldn't have been anything that could pose a threat to a squadron of state of the art Turian warships, operated by seasoned and disciplined sailors, hardened by anti-piracy action, and the occasional skirmish. Each sailor had centuries worth of institutional experience drilled into them, dating back to the Krogan Wars, the spillovers and remnants of the Rachni Wars, not to mention the Turian Unification Wars that came even before that. There should've been nothing out there that Turian combat doctrine couldn't account for...

But who could've anticipated this?

In fact, who could've anticipated any part of this whole encounter? Everything about this whole situation is without precedent! The bedrock of galactic civilization is derived from Prothean Mass Effect technology. It was true for the Asari, the Salarians, the Volus, Krogans, Quarians... everyone. Even with slight variances in application, all the different races invariably develop similar systems, similar spacecraft, similar weapons.

But not these aliens.

No. They've diverged so far off, weapons and machines that were relegated to tales of science fantasy were trivial things of reality to these aliens!

"Sensors still can't get a good lock on the enemy warships!" An officer finally answered after what felt like an eternity of waiting. "The interference from the radiation is too much, we're going to have to close the gap to get a good read."

Trevanian clenched his mandibles and tightened his grip on the command podium.

"Isn't there anything we can do to bypass the interference?" The commander nearly shouted, but caught himself.

"We've never encountered radiation interference of this kind before, the technicians are still trying to recalibrate all our sensors to accommodate!"

Trevanian balled his fists, doing his utmost to suppress his frustrations from bubbling out.

"How soon until we're close enough to get a lock?"

"4 minutes, sir!"

That would work. It has to work. Without a proper firing solution the mass driver guns on their ships couldn't do a thing, lest they miss and potentially strike something else halfway across the galaxy, hundreds of years from now. His squadron had not yet been issued those new shells with auto detonating capabilities, since Central Command believed it would be put to better in the Home and Terminus Sectors. The sector his squadron was assigned to, the Skyllian Sector, was seen as a low priority sector. They were the last to receive the new Long Dagger Class Frigates, and they didn't even have a Dreadnought assigned to them.

Maybe Magarius had been right. He had complained at length to Central Command that the Skyllian sector was getting neglected. In hindsight, Trevanian should've said something in support of his protests. Ironic that the Captain would be proven correct, right before his eyes.

"Hostiles coming in for another attack run!" A report echoed throughout the bridge.

True enough, the three strike craft that knocked out the Aggripinax were bearing down on them again. Thankfully, their new formation helped keep them at bay. Anti-air tactics were nothing new to the Turian Navy. Their poor performance so far was simply due to the fact they didn't account for a strike craft that was so absurdly powerful. Tightening the standard defensive ring formation has done the trick so far, but Trevanian worried that the aliens would bring out some other kind of weapon that would throw their plans into the gutters... again.

Fortunately, the defensive ring held. While the aliens managed to land a couple of good hits on some of the frigates, the damage caused wasn't serious. The Mallo Patrocollus and Ignatius Rix could keep trucking on despite the new holes in their hull.

Defending against the previous assault had let the squadron get close enough to the enemy ships that the firing computers could finally get a good lock. Now it was time for retaliation!

"Sensor lock achieved... targeting computer is calculating a firing solution!" The gunnery chief announced.

"Focus fire on the enemy's light cruiser!" Trevanian ordered. "The commander of their formation is no doubt in that warship. Neutralizing it should send the two frigates into disarray."

"Squadron confirms target lock on enemy cruiser!" the ship's comms officer then reported.

"Fire!" Trevanian ordered.

The Galateus shuddered as its spinal mass driver quickly spooled up and launched a large, high explosive squash head shell down range. The rest of the formation followed suit, firing a salvo of shots straight at the enemy warship. The commander waited with baited breath as the shells traveled the distance. One second, two seconds, three... HIT! Two of the five shells struck home, though one of them only clipped the forward end of the cruiser. The one shell that did strike true landed dead center of the enemy ship. An explosion shook the alien cruiser, and as the smoke and fire subsided, revealed a burning red hole in the hull. The pit that had grown inside Trevanian's gut had suddenly disappeared and the the weight on his shoulders lifted.

The aliens had no shields. Despite their advanced energy weapons, they had no shields!

"Their ships are unshielded!" The revelation hit Trevanian like a hovertruck. "Load shells and fire again!"

This little skirmish had turned from a disaster to a salvageable mess. If they could at least disable one of the alien ships... just one... nearly losing the Aggripinax would be worth it. Reverse engineering those weapons would ensure Turian dominance of the stars for decades, if not centuries to come. The Old Breed faction in Palaven would be elated.

Spirits, he could get a promotion out of this. Maybe help Magarius out of this dead end posting as well.

For a second time, the Galateus shuddered as it launched another shell at the enemy warship. The squadron fired its salvo together, at the same time rebuffing the enemy strike craft still harassing them. Unfortunately, this time only one shell landed on the cruiser as the aliens have begun taking evasive maneuvers. Between the still thick interference and the enemy ship's rapid maneuvers, most of the shots missed... but one got lucky. Said shell slammed near what appeared to be the ship's citadel.

"Load shells, fire again!" Trevanian commanded once more.

As the autoloader on the Galateus whirred and pushed a shell into the mass driver's breach the tide of battle changed once more.

Pink blips of light, like that of the strike craft's rifle, flashed from where the alien ships were.

Trevanian's eyes widened. In all the excitement, he forgot that his squadron was still on full burn approaching the alien formation. He was so preoccupied trying to get close enough to fire, he had forgotten that the enemy probably had the ability to fire back. The commander had no time to dwell on the fact that he should've known better than to expect the aliens to use the same spinal mount design that Citadel warships used.

"All ships! Take evasive maneuvers, no-"

Before he could finish his orders, the burning beams of energy impacted his squadron. These shots were much, much stronger than what the strike craft fired with its rifle. Despite striking the ships head on, where the shields were strongest and formed at an angle, many of the beams broke through. Volatile energy scorched much of the Galateus' frontal armor, penetrated in some other sections. While the damage was serious, it was not crippling. Since conventional warship design has its main weapons pointing forward, it made sense for a ship's frontal armor to not only be thicker, but also angled to try and deflect shots. This design was drawn up for a battle between mass driver firing ships, but it seems to have worked against energy weapons as well... though admittedly it wasn't as effective.

Sirens blared in the bridge, the crew had only just started recovering from the energy barrage. Officers began reading out damage reports and ship conditions. Heavy damage to the Galateus' frontal sections, as expected. Sections 1-6 had significant hull breaches, and power to sections 4-12 had to be routed through secondary lines. Fires had broken out all over the front section, and the fire suppression system is doing what it can to keep the sitaution in check. The only saving grace was that the main gun was still operational.

"Status report on the rest of the squadron?!" Trevanian demanded. His voice raised and his temper flaring. He wasn't angry at his crew. No, he was angry at himself for once again letting the enemy catch him off guard.

"Th-the Mallo Patrocollus is not responding to hails, but still appears functional... Mox Bellanor suffering critical engine damage but can still fight... Ignatius Rix took only superficial damage, and the Avitus Kaliban is reporting light damages to main gun! They say they'll have it fixed in a few minutes!"

"Damnit!" The commander cursed. "Tell the Kaliban to stick with the Patrocollus until it's main gun is repaired. All others, maintain position on the Galateus' flanks!"

That made two more frigates out of the fight. With the status of the Patrocollus unclear, and the Kaliban needing to peel off to repair their guns, that realistically left only three damaged ships in the fight.

Trevanian didn't like this. Not one bit! He wanted to pull his squadron back... he should pull the squadron back!

But he couldn't. An anger swelled within him. He couldn't end it like this. It was three against three, and the enemy was unshielded. There was a chance he could make this work. If the Galateus, Bellanor, and Ignatius could keep up the fight for just a few minutes more, the Kaliban -and perhaps the Patrocollus as well- could return to the fight.

All they had to do was tough it out. Tough it out and they could salvage this whole mess.

"Alright then!" Trevanian started. "Acquire target, load shells, and fire when ready!"

The Galateus shuddered again, once more launching a shell out of its spinal mounted mass driver. The Bellanor joined quickly after, while the Ignatius lagged behind. This time, only one shell hit, clipping the rear end of one of the enemy's frigates.

"Load shells, fire ag-"

"Sensors picking up three high speed objects coming from below!" The sensor officers cut off the commander. "It's three more strike craft!"

"Impossible! When did they get the chance to launch them?!" Trevanian exclaimed, but then quickly shook his head. "Never mind that, tighten our formation and prepare to fight them off!"

Now six of the Turioid strike craft were in play, with the first group still harassing from above while the new group closed in fast from below. With two frigates missing from the formation, their overlapping air defense became weakened. It was a miracle that the three wounded ships managed to fight off the top group.

They weren't so lucky with the ones from the bottom.

The second group closed in fast, much faster than the first one did during their initial assault. Two of the strike craft lead the way, shields raised and blocking incoming fire. When the anti-air barrage slackened for a moment, the two holding the shields separated, revealing one carrying what appeared to be a small naval cannon like it was some kind of rocket launcher. This last unit dodged and weaved through the slackened fire, before coming to a halt and taking aim.

From the angle it was coming from, there was simply no way for the shields to block the attack.

A powerful, continuous bright purple beam leapt from the cannon. It was much more powerful than the ones from the energy rifles, comparable to the ones fired by the alien warship. The beam punched right through the shields, then melted through the Galateus' lower hull, before penetrating out the top. The strike craft moved its arms, dragging the beam across the cruiser. Burning energy slowly sawed through the warship before finally cutting off. The strike craft then pulled back, covered by its two wingmen who fired on the Galateus as they retreated.

Trevanian had fallen from his command podium during the assault. His ears were ringing, and his head fuzzy from the fall. As he struggled to get back on his feet, his eyes landed upon flashing text on the terminal. Blue text alerts warned that the ship's core had been breached, that catastrophic failure was imminent.

Catastrophic failure.

Those were the last words running through Uriah Trevanian's head.

Catastrophic failure was right. What a failure this whole intercept turned out to be.

The explosion from the breached core silenced any further thoughts.

-000-

Relevant notes:

Minovsky Particle Shenanigans: It should've occurred to me that Mass Effect fans unfamiliar with UC Gundam would click on this story. I wrote the first chapter expecting people to at least have a baseline knowledge of UC Gundam mechanics. In hindsight, I should've made some accommodations to make sure everyone was in the same page.

Some people have commented (more than I would like, to be honest) that someone from the CSF should have picked up something. While this would be true with any other science fiction properties, or even with other Gundam timelines, it's not the case with UC Gundam. Much of the advanced technologies that make the backbone of UC Gundam is based on Minovsky Reactor technology. These reactors generate Minovsky Particles, which if dispersed will begin to interfere with radio communications, as well as RADAR based sensors. It's why space warfare in UC Gundam has returned to WVR gunfights and broadside battles. It's also why mobile suits are equipped with contact communicators, or other such systems.

While I've gotten some comments that accurately guessed that the CSF ships didn't pick up on the Turian's hails because of the Minovsky interference, I can't keep writing the story expecting everyone to be UC Gundam experts. Gundam in general is relatively niche compared to Mass Effect, and UC Gundam especially can be a bit daunting to get into, considering its age.

I'll keep in mind to make sure everyone's on the same page moving forward. I'll also be working to produce some of my notes as a CODEX of sorts. I won't rely on it as a crutch, but it'll be helpful for those unfamiliar with Gundam.

THIS WORK IS CROSSPOSTED ON AO3.