Gundam Wing: The Phoenix Rising

by Titanic X

A tie-in novel to Gundam Wing: Destiny's Call. The American front in the war is unknown and unheard of. But as the world is embroiled in another war, the Resistance sends a mole to take command of a mighty battle group. This is the story of the Phoenix, and of how the Resistance began their fight to liberate America's citizens from their brainwashing. This is... Phoenix Rising!

5. PHASE IV: Looming Judgment

Hey, peeps~! Here's the next chapter of The Phoenix Rising. And this one is gonna be a doozy. :3

Review replies:

- operation meteor: I'm so glad you approve of my work! :) I have to admit, you're kind of an inspiration to me for Gundam stuff. :3 I really do appreciate your feedback. :3 Thanks! :)

- 4dv1ct0r14m2017: XD I said I would, and I did~! XD

- StellarLupine: Truthfully I never paid attention to the Valkyrie series at all! XD So it's just a coincidence, I guess. :P But yeah. I had to sneak in another UC reference! XD And she is not a super-soldier. She is pure Natural, but one who was training for a long time and has years of military experience behind her.

- Spiceracksargent001 - Oh, trust me. Henkel will die. And as for your expectations, well, I can't blame ya! XD I wanna get to that, too. But for now, consider this a warmup to that. ;3

- Gundamvid: Oh, he will later on. But for now, I'm delving into more projects and efforts of the resistance. :3 So expect to see some Loto and Nemo action in this chapter! :3

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(Shows a small ember flickering as darkness threatens to extinguish it)

START MIKAKUNIN HIKOUSEN BY TAKAYOSHI TANIMOTO

(The ember is strengthened as a wind gust blows the darkness away, creating a raging fire that parts to show a young man with a phoenix tattoo on his left forearm in a field with a tattered American flag draped over his shoulders)

Oh yeah! Be strong, jump on, and become the wind (He looks up and sprints forward, the flag flying off his back as he leaps into the air, the wind catching the flag as it flies off)

Pass the orbit beyond the sky (The young man lands atop a mobile suit carrier, standing as it hovers just above a city, fires raging beneath him)

I can't hold back this rushing speed (The scene then shifts to show it from a mobile suit's camera perspective before pivoting to show the young man in a pilot suit with a phoenix emblem on the right shoulder)

A familiar town becomes a diorama (The mobile suit is shown on camera as it pans out, revealing a black and dark grey clad machine with blue optics as it blasts over his old hometown, riots in the streets)

Burst through the unclear skies (Smoke drifts up as it shows several soldiers running through the streets, firing at other soldiers wearing Atlantic Federation uniforms before a swirl of flames engulfs the screen)

Blow away your worries and discontent (A gust of wind parts the flames, showing the young man's mobile suit standing amidst burning ruins, a Blue Cosmos mobile suit in front of him)

Who needs a journey that's by the book? (The camera pans to the left as the black clad machine lunges, a blue beam saber igniting and flying at the other machine, both pilots shown superimposed over their respective mobile suits)

Even if you're lost or trembling, raise the altitude (A flash of light erupts from the clashing point of their beam sabers, vanishing to show the young man trembling as he pushes his machine's Striker pack to the limit)

Oh yeah! Show off, mess up, and stand back up (The scene shifts to show the man on the bridge of a battleship, battered and bloodied as he faces down another man whose eyes seem to glow red)

I'll watch the unknown horizon with you (An image of the young man's wife flashes in his mind before he is shown lunging for the other man, a knife poised at his throat)

Now be strong, jump on, and become the wind (A fiery image appears in his mind's eye as it spreads its wings, shedding aside the darkness)

Use the sun that lights tomorrow as a guide (The image becomes the sun, and the camera pans to the right to show the black and grey machine, a new Striker Pack on its back)

Fly off to the glorious world of freedom! (The machine's fiery wings spread and it dashes off, becoming a speck as feathers of fire float down, one of them landing on a scorched Atlantic Federation flag, a repaired American flag flying over it)

GUNDAM WING: THE PHOENIX RISING

Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall

- Steven Jackson 'Spray' Krane

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CHAPTER IV: LOOMING JUGDMENT

TWO WEEKS AGO...

November 6th, CE 73

The entire facility was a madhouse.

People scurried to and fro, carrying parts, clipboards, tablets, or even just to get to the other side of the massive camouflaged bay.

Amidst it all, a single man stood atop a catwalk, his eyes narrowed as he observed the installation underway.

Dr. Klaus Brand was sure that the project was going to be a success. But the implications of having something that rivaled the fearsome TBR of the Demon Lord of Avalon's machine were not good in his mind. To possess such technology was a weapon of mass destruction in its own right.

But at least it was better than having children as weapons of war.

The German immigrant scanned over the entire chamber, his eyes landing on the huge shape as it was assembled.

Already the entire framework and internals had been assembled. It had taken three whole years and countless, and in some cases, consecutive, hours, unbelievable luck, and intense secrecy, but it was almost complete. This was no ordinary weapon though. This very weapon was the brainchild of Dr. Brand himself. It represented all the blood, sweat, and tears the resistance was putting into their efforts against LOGOs.

And unlike the other projects in the works, this one was a menace in its own right.

Like the Girty Lue class battleships of the EA, this particular ship was in the same length and in theory, the same weight class. But what the resistance ship lacked in overall length and weight, it made up for in its firepower. And unlike the Girty-Lue class, this new ship was of a radically different design.

Whereas the battleships were more tapered at the bow and concealed their hangars, this ship had numerous hangars. In fact, it had the most out of any ship in the world. Having taken the basic idea of the Archangel class and its successors, the resistance had instead chosen to up the number of hangars to five, increasing the number of mobile suits it could carry. This necessitated the installation of five catapults and a recovery deck. The catapults were laid out in the front of the ship like legs, and on the underside of the port and starboard catapults there was another catapult. The hangars were positioned behind these catapults, allowing for rapid deployment of mobile suits stored aboard her. The last catapult at the rear was where the recovery deck was located, although in a pinch the deck could also double as a last resort catapult. The body of the ship itself was boxy, and kind of blocky compared to the Girty Lue class, making it seem more durable and robust. The bridge, in a copy of the Archangel to an extent, was on an extended 'neck' that stuck up from close to the middle of the ship. Just a ways behind it, though, the ship also possessed a pair of large 'wings' like those found on an airplane. The ship, it was said, resembled a horse at rest. Hence the nickname that would become dreaded amongst the AF forces: The Trojan Horse.

And that was made all the more formidable by its arsenal.

The Trojan Horse possessed a vastly superior firepower suite when compared to the Girty-Lue and her sister ships. Forward and aft of her bridge, as well as underneath the hull, were four turrets each containing two beam cannons. These guns possessed a wide range of movement and degree of fire, which was essential given the ship's large mass and weight. For frontal attacks, the ship was equipped with a single barrel beam cannon located on the outermost corner of the starboard and port catapults. This was mostly used to deter enemies from attacking the catapults. But that was only the beginning. The surprise of the ship lay in its mega particle cannons hidden within the sides of the vessel. When they were deployed, they could provide coverage in a complete circle. But as a downside, they could not elevate to meet enemies coming from much larger angles. The ship was also outfitted with a vertical launch system, possessing three twenty-four tube systems, two atop the starboard and port hangars, and one located behind the bridge. For defense, the ship was equipped with twenty-eight two barrel defensive guns. These weapons were incredibly fast at firing, but as a result the ship's fire control radar could not keep up with the fast rate, limiting the accuracy of the guns.

And to top it all off, the ship possessed not one, but two nuclear fusion reactors to provide the power for all its weapons, and its secret weapon.

This was the SVCA-01 Redemption, their flagship.

Of course, it had yet to be tested. Currently the ship was still in the process of being outfitted, but the tests and projections done with the simulated enemies showed just how powerful the Redemption could be in theory.

The biggest factor in its firepower lay in the secret weapon that was placed beneath the primary catapult. But due to budget constraints and the need to keep things top secret, the third stage was not even completed yet. Parts were still being shipped up into orbit for its construction, hidden within one of the other abandoned colonies at L4. And it was due to this that the project was not even considered complete. At least the final stage was moving along, much to his immense relief.

Beside him stood Dr. Crofton. Her eyes were locked onto the ship as she analyzed its impressive ordnance.

"To have such power..." she mused. "Will it be enough?"

"To deal vith zat Project Reaper?" Dr. Brand asked. He snorted. "Zat project has nothing on zis." He narrowed his eyes. "Especially given its secret veapon."

Laura frowned. "You sure seem confident in this thing," she noted.

Klaus gave a nod. "Yes. And for a very good reason." He leaned forward to place his hands on the railing. "After ze First BV Var, we saw how far dangerous men vere villing to go to kill each other. And zat vas ze last straw for me. Ze project vas in ze vorks long before zis var, but it vas enough for me to put priority to it."

Then he turned to look at her. "By ze vay, vhat made you decide to assist us?" he asked her.

"The reason is simple," Laura murmured. She glanced at the catwalk beneath her feet. "My mom and dad died during the April Fool's Crisis when the hospital lost all power. The entire city did. So... I began delving into research regarding nuclear fusion reactors. Of course I had been doing it before the Crisis, but after that day I put all of my energies into finding out if they would work despite the N-Jammers..."

The older man pursed his lips as she continued. "When I found out that the fusion reactors did work, well, I wanted to get this out there. But all my research was scrubbed or censored. Lies were spread and the facility I was working at had its funding pulled. The only way we could get funding again was to work with the Extended Program." Here Laura grimaced. "We had no choice. So we shifted our research to looking for newer ways to program children. We kept the reactors for power, but in the end we just couldn't do it. So when we learned of Project Shūmatsu, we knew what we wanted to do. So we gave you the reactors."

Dr. Brand wasn't too surprised as to why his companion chose to research nuclear fusion for power. Most people had delved into seeking new means of power after the crisis. But to hear that her facility had been forced to research new ways to program children in exchange for funding was something that made him sick to his stomach. And to prevent themselves from doing so, they had given up their reactors to rob the place of power.

"...Vhat facility did you vork at?" he asked.

"The General Fusion lab," she admitted without hesitation. "At least until recently."

He knew what she meant.

Almost everyone in the resistance had worked in jobs that were now being expunged or targeted for elimination by LOGOs. Particularly in the fields of renewable energies.

But what LOGOs didn't count on, Dr. Brand noted with pride, was how resourceful people were in getting that field up and running. Solar panels were starting to crop up on homes, usually disguised as roofing shingles the same color and texture as regular shingles. Biofuel was becoming a new source of fuel because it could be easily gathered and then processed by individuals for use in cars and trucks.

And that was only the beginning.

Dr. Brand glanced to the ship again, this time his gaze locking onto where the reactors were located.

The tricky part had been getting the reactors in place after the engine rooms had been installed. Thankfully some rather enterprising engineers had figured out a way to assemble the reactors inside the engine rooms. By removing the walls of the recovery deck inside the ship, the engine rooms had been opened to the necessary teams to install the reactor components. The whole assembly had taken less time than expected, which made sense given that the technicians working on the installation had been former workers at the former research lab.

But then came the hard part.

Waiting for the weapon those reactors were supposed to power.

His gaze roved away from the ship's engines towards the main catapult, and he frowned a little.

The weapon in question was supposed to be their ace in the hole. But until testing was completed and the mobile suit chosen to be equipped with it, they couldn't install it.

And they wanted the project to be completed before the final battle.

Dr. Brand sighed heavily. "Damn LOGOs for putting us in zis position..." he muttered.

"I know exactly how you feel..." Laura murmured. "I would give anything to take them out."

"Anything?" the German asked in surprise. "Vhy?"

"To spite them." Laura's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "They want women to be homemakers? Forget it. I was into researching nuclear energy, and I intend to use my knowledge for the betterment of this world. I won't let them dictate my life or force me into being a housewife, seen and not heard!" Her fists clenched on the railing. "Hell, I'd give my entire reproductive system a dose of radiation if I so chose!"

"Heh." Dr. Brand smirked. "Zat's pretty ballsy of you to say."

"It's just the truth is all," Laura told him as her gaze drifted to the ship's bridge. "I was a scientist. And still am. I want men and women to be treated as equals again. Not this mockery that we have become."

"Just like zat Nazi Germany back in Vorld Var II," Dr. Brand hissed. His own hands clenched on the railing. "Zat is vhy I chose to side vith ze resistance. To end zis vay of thinking. Especially now, vith more dangerous enemies at large."

"If you mean Djibril, then I'm not surprised," the woman remarked. "That man has no idea what he's done... He needs to be brought to justice!" Her teeth bared themselves and for a brief moment, Dr. Brand had a flash of a pouncing predator.

"Somehow I doubt zat vill be ze case," Dr. Brand told her seriously. "From vhat little ve know of ze man, Djibril has no soul. He lacks even ze basic senses of empathy and humanity. He is a monster clad in human flesh, if not less zan one."

"Less than a monster?!" Laura whipped her head around to look at him. "You're not serious!"

"Oh, I am, Laura. Djibril is not even vorthy of ze word 'monster' to describe him. He is vorse zan zat." Dr. Brand's eyes hardened. "Unfortunately, no words in human tongue can describe him at ze moment."

"Then we'll have to come up with something soon," Laura said as she turned her gaze back to the ship.

The German engineer merely nodded. "Yes, ve should." He was silent for a moment. "But zat is ze least important zing ve should focus on," he continued.

"Yeah. We have this ship to complete," Laura conceded. "Speaking of, I heard you picked the TBR to derive it from?"

"Yes." Dr. Brand nodded in confirmation.

"Why?" she asked.

Here, Klaus hesitated, but then he sighed, lowering his head until his eyes were hidden in shadow. "Zat veapon... it holds too much potential to be used for ill," he began. "Ze atomic bomb, ze Manhattan Project, vas developed zere to shorten ze Second Vorld Var. It vas essential back zen to get to it before Nazi Germany did. And zat became a proud achievement of vhat human determination and intellect could do. But zat zing... It is utter destruction. ZAFT, as you know, tried to develop one of zeir own, but failed. And yet... it holds so much promise to be turned against ze rulers of our so-called country. Zat is vhy I chose it. Because zat veapon is a symbol of power LOGOs vould kill to get zeir hands on."

"But how could they?" Laura asked.

"Ze ship is vulnerable right now," Dr. Brand murmured. "It could be attacked any moment if ve have it finished by now. Zat is vhy I have to be careful about zis... and vhere to target vhen it is completed." He lifted his gaze up, and his eyes were hard. "Zose bastards have gone too far vith zis. It ends here, and now!"

Laura was silent as she considered his words.

"The sheer power it holds... and the dangers that come with it... once used to end a genocidal war..." She gritted her teeth. "...now I get why you want to build it..."

Klaus nodded.

"But even without such power, we can win, right?" she asked, feebly reaching for a sliver of hope.

But Dr. Brand shook his head. "No," he whispered. "Ve need zat power."

"But if that's done, we'll be no better than LOGOs!" Laura cried, whirling to face him.

"I know vhat you mean," the German argued, "but zis has to be done!" He was dead serious as he said this. "You zink I like ze idea of having such power at our disposal?! It makes me sick to even consider it!"

"Then why do it?!" Laura screamed, catching the attention of a few workers down below.

"To use zat to destroy our enemies and show ze power of real science!" Dr. Brand shouted. "If ve use zat power, zen ve can give LOGOs somezing to fear!" Tears streamed down his face as he said this.

Laura stood up, surprised. "W-What...?"

"You heard me," he stated. "Part of ze reason vhy ve need to give LOGOs somezing to fear is to remember zose zat zey killed. Ze other part is to ensure such barbarism does not take place again. And to expose zeir cowardice to ze public."

Now Laura understood. He didn't like the idea of using such power. But he was willing to do it to save lives from the Extended Program. She slowly turned to look back at the ship below them.

Workers scurried around its exterior, checking weapons emplacements, examining armor plating and calibrating sensors. A few were working on buffing up scratches on the armor and a team crawled over the bridge's side sensor panels, examining them for any damage or holes. Aside from its secret weapon, the only two things the ship needed at this point was just a coat of paint and to be supplied for deployment. So in effect, it was considered complete. At least as complete as it could get.

"This project... Shūmatsu... It's to bring about Doomsday..." she murmured. "But can we even bear the burden of that?"

"Vell, you get ze project name right," Dr. Brand remarked casually. "But it is not meant to bring about Doomsday in ze sense zat you zink."

"Then why call it Project Doomsday if it's not meant to bring it about?" Laura asked.

"It is meant to bring about Doomsday, but not for ze rest of us," he explained. "Ze project I conceived is meant to bring about Doomsday for one specific group of people. And zey are ze ones who have twisted our vays of zinking for far too long. And you know who zey are."

Laura's eyes widened as she realized what he meant. "You're joking...!" she rasped.

"No. I am not," Klaus murmured. "Ve intend to bring Doomsday to LOGOs."

That was it.

The purpose of Project Shūmatsu. To bring about the end of LOGOs.

Laura had known that it was to bring about the end for someone. But to hear it was geared towards LOGOs?

"But why develop such a project for destroying those bloated bureaucrats and plutocrats?" she asked. "Wouldn't it make more sense to go a different route?"

"Vhat route?" Dr. Brand asked with a snort. "Zey have control of all ze courts in ze country and zeir influence affects everyzing ve do. Zis project vas designed to target their damned labs and any projects zey may be using to conquer ze vorld. As vell as show zem ve mean business."

"Oh..." Laura cast her gaze back at the ship, looking down. "So that's it then... it's meant to destroy their greatest assets in controlling people."

"As vell as remove zose ridiculous veapons from play," Klaus remarked. "Ve can't support such zings indefinitely. And vhen ve do remove zem from play, zen ve can use zat technology to rebuild our countries."

Laura gave a nod, especially knowing where she had come from.

Laura Crofton was from the Quebec Canadian Reservation, more specifically on her mother's side. Her father, however, was a firm Atlantian by birth. So when he had married a Quebec woman, the law had made it so that the daughters and sons of any people from the reservation were to live there indefinitely. But her father, who had been a customs official, had managed to sway the governor of that sector to allow his daughter to come live with him instead of in poverty and squalor in the growing reservation slums. His efforts paid off, and she had been taken out by the staff of her father's office. His wife had not been so lucky; her mother had been forced to remain behind in Quebec due to her being a native resident.

Ever since then, Laura had made it her mission to delve into nuclear research to try and improve the lives of the people in the Quebec Slums, as they were called. She enrolled in the University of Toronto and went on to become a major in nuclear physics. When she got a job at the General Fusion lab in Alberta, her mother had been hospitalized for heart trouble. But then the energy crisis had hit, and that had been the final straw for her. Laura had thrown herself into fusion research whole-heartedly, making it her dream to change things. Only for the company to be forced into making new programming equipment for the Extended Program.

"In more ways than one..." she whispered. "I... I'm sick of people in Quebec living on a reservation with no access to the sea, living in slums that continue to grow with each passing year... and without any way for them to get adequate care for even basic needs..." Her teeth gritted as she ducked her head, clenching her hands on the railing tightly. Tears plipped onto her clenched knuckles. "You know that people don't even have basic hygienic gear?" she whispered. "And doctors are close to non-existent there... all because we are 'ideologically impure' because of our descent from Europeans!"

"Mein Gott..." Dr. Brand was stunned. "And all because of vhere your ancestors came from?"

The woman nodded, her shoulders shaking. "What happened, Klaus? What made them think of us this way?!" she cried. "This is not what I wanted for our countries!"

"It vasn't something any of us vanted, Laura," he told her. "But ze truth is it did. So ve must vork to end it. To bring about change. For all of us."

She nodded, but she still sobbed quietly. "If this project does work... will you use it on the bastard of a man who has been treating us like crap?" she asked.

Klaus froze. He had not expected this. In truth, the project was not even complete yet. But if she was asking him to willingly murder the overseer of the reservation with its power... then that was saying something. In truth, such power was to never be used willy-nilly, and he was in no way about to do something so reckless. And he told her as such.

His words did manage to bring her back to her senses, but Laura still felt disappointed.

Besides, she reasoned, even if he did escape justice, he would be found by the Canadians once their government was restored. Especially Quebecers. And they were not ones to piss off, especially given their conditions right now.

At least she could imagine the reservation overseer being incinerated, right?

Klaus turned and gestured for her to follow him back to his office. She needed rest, and he needed to get in contact with the President as soon as possible regarding the status of the project.

And then there was the issue of his friend currently down in Mexico.

The boy was brilliant, he had to admit. Maybe as skilled as that woman, Dorana Xen. She was nothing short of a genius in the tech field. But the kid he had met during a meeting in Denver once had clicked with him in a way reminded him of her. Dorana's skill in AI research was something to be complemented, that was for sure. And yet, this kid... he had ideas. Good ones, but somewhat out there. And yet at the same time they made sense in a way that was viable to work into fruition.

He would have to contact the boy soon if his little pet project got approval from the President herself on it.

He could only hope that his friend was up for the task of handling it.

. . .

The heat was harsh.

The massive expanse of the Chihuahuan Desert loomed before the assembled team as the group watched through their binoculars.

In one of the Jeeps, a young man in his early thirties narrowed his eyes as he studied the location critically.

"Sir, are you sure this is where they'll come from?" one of the drivers asked him.

"Yes, Juan," he said. "The intel from the guys in that task force said this was the spot."

"Okay. I just don't want to have them destroy us as easily as some of the others," Juan muttered nervously. "Especially you, Dr. Martinez."

The man, Dr. Keith Martinez, cracked a grin. "As if," he retorted playfully. "I know what I'm getting into here." He then became serious. "Especially given how dangerous her AIs are becoming. We need to not just get them to study, but also to reverse engineer."

"But why reverse engineer them?" Juan asked nervously.

"To ensure they do not go on a rampage," the young man replied. "And with this, I am being serious."

Juan knew what Keith was getting at. Dr. Keith Martinez was a huge sci-fi buff, and after countless years of research and study, AIs were becoming a reality. But there was also the danger of the unknown: would they go rogue and wipe out humanity once they became sentient? That was the issue he had been researching for years, even before joining the resistance. Keith was a brilliant man, as well. Possessing a keen intellect that made some wonder if he was secretly a Coordinator, he proved to be a prodigy for programming when he first made his own code for a video game at the age of thirteen after reading one of his father's programming books. He proved to be so skilled that he had gotten a scholarship to the Atlantic Federation's prestigious technical school in the field of AI research. While it had stalled after the energy crisis, it was now starting to rebound. And as such, came great risks, he deduced.

He procured as many old and current sci-fi stories on the matter as he could gather, and after much debate and reading, he had come to the conclusion that AIs went rogue due to their own survival instincts, a trait common with all human beings. As humans, he reasoned, created AIs, so they could destroy them. And if AIs did attain sentience, then they exhibited self-preservation instincts not that much different from human beings.

So the key was not to shackle the AIs, but to find a way to allow them to use their full power, while ensuring they did not turn against humanity. That was the motive behind his own project.

Dr. Martinez was in his early thirties, with short red hair and light brown eyes, but a dark-skinned complexion from his father's side of the family. He was slightly stocky in build, but his body was in no way chubby with fat. He was more muscular and well-built. In the harsh Mexican Chihuahuan desert heat he wore a wide-brimmed hat and a tank top that exposed his toned arms. He wore a pair of desert fatigues and combat boots on his feet to round out his outfit.

He raised his own binoculars to his eyes and peered through them.

He looked directly in the direction of the small mountain range before them.

Behind it he could see a plume of dust. That dust was an indicator of who - or what - was coming their way.

Further back he could hear the whirring of a control box as the man in the Jeep next to him worked the joystick. He didn't even look over as he spoke to the man.

"Ciríaco, what's it looking like?" he asked.

The older Mexican's voice drifted over.

"The drone has sighted the targets, sir," Ciríaco Telmo replied. "They will be in range for the operation within two hours."

Keith nodded. "Good." He aimed his binoculars over to where a large cluster of tanks lay in wait. But these were no ordinary tanks.

They were of the new model, the Loto. It had taken time to transport the machines down to Mexico, but thanks to some rather clever forging of documents and camouflage, they had managed to make it work. Already the crews were sitting beside their machines to board once the signal was given.

Once more his gaze shifted to another spot. This time he could see the large shapes of the pinkish-brown machines as they started to assemble to move out.

The MSA-003 Nemos were clad in desert warfare colors, and in their arms they carried their signature weapon while others carried additional weaponry. While normally impossible for the resistance to have assembled such a force, the depth to which they had infiltrated the AF's logistics allowed for components to be shipped to the areas where the resistance was active within the shadows. In Mexico's Chihuahuan Desert was one such space. Due to the numerous small mountain ranges dotting the area, it made for a perfect location to test out new weapons under cover of night. Most people attributed the strange activities to local spirits or aliens, rumors the resistance used to great effect.

As of right now, the AF had no clue as to who was piggybacking off of their logistics.

Keith watched as the Nemos and Lotos headed out, making for the Sierra del Carmen mountains.

It all hinged on them now.

The doctor sat back down and glanced at the driver. "Let's go!" he said.

The driver started up the Jeep and the vehicle, coupled with the others behind it, headed out, bouncing over the rough desert terrain.

Keith placed the binoculars on his lap and grabbed the laptop on the seat as he booted up the drone's video footage.

He could already see the drone's location was close to the point of ambush. It would take them two hours to get there by Jeep, and hopefully they'd be ready to intercept the AI suits.

Just the thought of such things in the hands of the AF made his stomach crawl. There was no way in hell he was going to let them put human soldiers out of the picture. That was for sure. And with the risk inherent in having such machines on the battlefield, there was a chance that they would go rogue if they developed sentience. His project, too, he knew, had that same risk. But in a more controlled way. An AI hivemind was a danger as well. Perhaps moreso than an AI acting on its own. With an AI hivemind, there was an almost certainty that they would all go rogue and be directed by the master AI to wipe out humans, like avatars to a god. And for that to happen was something he did not want.

Dorana Xen was brilliant. That was a certainty. But she was downright reckless when it came to something like this.

"Sir! We're approaching the site of ambush!" Juan Telmo, Ciríaco's brother, remarked.

The doctor perked up and he looked around, seeing that they were getting closer to the mountain.

A grim smirk crossed Keith's face.

The Jeeps continued onward. Except for his.

Juan applied the brakes and the vehicle slid to a stop. He glanced to the doctor. "Sir, are you sure it's wise to do this?"

"Yes, Juan," Dr. Martinez said. He watched via the laptop as the drone circled. The dust cloud was drawing closer, and now he could see the source of it: a squad of twelve mobile suits. Each one was a Strike Dagger, and he could tell from the movements that they were controlled by AIs. They moved in perfect unison, not like a human at all.

That, and the suits were more armored.

His eyes narrowed as he eyed them critically.

This was it.

The moment of truth.

Behind some brush, three Lotos began to emerge, catching the 'eye' of the AI-controlled Mobile Suits.

As if in a joking manner, one of the Loto tanks flashed the searchlight that was mounted on it, drawing the Strike Daggers to the tanks. Using that as their cue, the three Lotos began to head up the path leading up the mountain, catching up to the Jeeps that were headed up the mountain as well.

The AI-controlled Strike Daggers began to follow the three tanks and the Jeeps up the mountain road. One tank fired off missiles from its side launchers, hitting at least two of the Strike Daggers, but the other AF machines each either dodged the missile attack, fired on the missiles to take them out, or blocked with the equipped shields. However, it didn't deter the tank crew. While not usually effective against enemy MS's, the 25 mm machine cannon was fired at the optics of an incoming Strike Dagger. The shots went wide a few times, but eventually hit their mark. The Strike Dagger, now blinded, went stumbling around before the foot stepped on a loose rock and the Strike Dagger went tumbling down the side of the pathway, right into where there were two Nemo machines in waiting.

One Nemo pilot grinned before aiming her newly minted Clay Bazooka at the damaged Strike Dagger. She squeezed the firing mechanism, allowing the Gelatinous Immobilization Round, or the GIR, to fire out of the bazooka. Nicknamed the 'Sticky Round', the GIR did it's job, coating the feet of the Strike Dagger in a gelatinous goop. The AF machine now disabled, the second Nemo pilot had his machine rush in, drawing out a beam saber as he did so. The pink beam blade ignited and he drove the beam saber down into the lower waist of the Strike Dagger before yanking it out and slashing off the head of the Strike Dagger.

The head went flying before landing on the ground, the neck area sparking before the Strike Dagger fell to the ground, now offline and unpowered.

Meanwhile, above the small battle between the Nemos and the Strike Dagger, the rest of the Strike Daggers were firing on the retreating tanks, hitting them a few times, but due to their smaller size, the Lotos were proving to be hard-to-hit targets anyway. The Lotos were firing their machine cannons at the Strike Daggers, but the smaller weapons were doing little damage to the heavier-armored AF machines.

But then one Loto crew commander had the crazy idea of firing their machine's missiles at an overhang that was overhead and the commander smirked to himself. He gave the order to do so, his plan clear to his crew. Now that they were up a ways from the main roads, they were in the perfect position to pull off the next part of their plan. The missiles sped out from their launchers at the overhang, missing the Strike Daggers completely. However, that was what the Loto crew commander was counting on. The missiles impacted the overhang, causing a rockslide that then blocked off the retreat of the Strike Daggers. The crew commander smirked. 'Now we can get to work!'

Once the dust cleared, it revealed the pathway was blocked by fallen boulders and debris that had come from the overhang. The Lotos and Jeeps kept going backwards, but now they were reaching where the pathway up the mountain began to separate into two roads, not just one.

The Jeeps and Lotos were unable to advance further, but that was fine, for it was not a battle they were running from. As soon as the Jeeps came to a stop, so did the Lotos. But as soon as the tanks stopped, they then transformed from tank form to MS mode. The front half of the tank separated, revealing the front was actually the legs of this new MS, and the feet snapped into position. At the same time, lower legs snapped into place as well. The torso moved upwards and snapped the upper half of the MS, which was revealed to be the rear of the tank, into place. The arms, which were equipped with the missile launcher containers on the lower arms in place of standard MS manipulators, detached from the sides and moved away from the main body before the shoulders slid down and locked into place. The last thing to happen was the head emerged from the chest as a red visor flared to life.

While most human pilots would be surprised at this sudden turn of events, the Strike Daggers were not piloted by humans, and as such, were not thrown off in the usual sense. Instead, the Strike Daggers' AI system was trying to process this new variable, but with varying degrees of success. Some Strike Daggers were able to conclude this was a new threat and acted accordingly while two of the AI-controlled MSs were unable to process this new turn of events and wound up stumbling around, reacting only on rudimentary data to attack. This left those two Strike Daggers vulnerable to capture as more Nemos came out of hiding from down the two roadways. Two of the Nemos fired off the GIR rounds at the two stumbling Daggers, trapping them while two more Nemos emerged from behind the Daggers and sliced off the heads, leaving the machines without a control source.

The other Strike Daggers fired on the Nemos that had disabled the previous two Strike Daggers, but the Nemo pilots ducked behind their shields, blocking the beam rifle blasts that were being unleashed on them. The first two Nemos that had trapped the two Strike Daggers prior pulled out their beam rifles and fired at the other Strike Daggers, getting the attention off of their fellow pilots. At the same time, the Loto crews fired off a few of their missiles at the remaining Strike Daggers. While two Strike Daggers were destroyed, one Strike Dagger was disabled by losing both arms and a leg, allowing for one of the other three Nemo pilots to pull it out of the line of fire.

Now the squad of Strike Daggers was down to six, but that was fine by the resistance MS pilots. They had more than enough Strike Daggers to take back with them. It was time to finish off the AF units. The Loto crews, as well as the Nemo pilots, all aimed their weapons at the remaining Strike Daggers.

As if on cue and in sync, the Loto crews fired their remaining missiles while the Nemo pilots let loose with a hail of beam rifle fire. The beam weapons, combined with the missiles, caused a large explosion that wiped out the remaining Strike Daggers while sparing the Strike Daggers that had been captured.

One of the Lotos them fired off its machine cannon into the air, the signal the mission had been completed.

Dr. Martinez perked up as he heard the machine cannon fire from his position further off.

He raised his binoculars to his eyes and peered through them.

His eyes went wide as he saw the Nemos and Lotos returning from the crags.

In their possession were four captured and incapacitated Strike Daggers. Three of the machines were missing their heads while one was missing its legs as well. The last Strike Dagger retained its head, but was missing three of its limbs - both arms and the right leg.

While he had been hoping for about half the squad, four was three more than what he needed.

A smirk crossed his face.

He got on the comm line shortly after. "Diego, this is Dr. Martinez. We have our packages."

"You have some of those machines?! How many?" an older voice asked, sounding a bit excited, and terrified.

"I was hoping to get five or more, but four is enough for our purposes right now," the younger man stated.

"Very well. We will move out and meet you at the base." Diego's comm went offline and Dr. Martinez turned his gaze to Juan.

"Juan, we're moving back to base," he ordered.

Juan gave a nod as he started the engine. The Jeep rumbled off after the retreating tanks, Jeeps, and Nemos.

. . .

The convoy rapidly approached one of the many mountains in the desert.

In truth, there was nothing really special about this one.

At least, at first glance.

The resistance forces came to a halt in front of the rocky face and Juan raised a hand, honking the horn a few times.

Up on the cliff face above them, a small segment of the rock slid aside and a floodlight flashed on, blinding them temporarily. Then a voice called out in Spanish. "Esperanza en el future?"

"La esperanza estará en el future!" Juan replied.

The floodlight shut down and then a low rumble filled the night air as two hidden doors slid open, dim red lights shining into the landscape.

To Juan, it reminded him all too much of descending into the fiery depths of a live volcano. But that was all part of the ploys in place here by the resistance. Much local legend stemmed from the fact that the resistance activities caused strange lights and sounds. So many people were thinking that either aliens or supernatural entities lived in the desert.

So to play on those fears, the resistance took advantage of the red emergency lights and used them to mark the entryway to the base, adding a little extra effect with flickering lamps to give off a fiery appearance. Juan knew it wasn't real, but it still gave him the willies as he drove Dr. Martinez's Jeep down after the convoy descended first. Once the convoy was inside, the doors slid shut, sealing the base off from the cold desert air.

The young doctor was grinning like a loon as he clutched his laptop, one loaded with all kinds of notes on AI and their programming. He looked back as one of the Strike Daggers was hauled off by a Nemo to a nearby repair platform. Once the machine was set down, a couple of technicians scurried up to the side of the machine's head and placed a jammer on it, making the AI inside it freeze up. The Strike Dagger, as a result, fell limp. The AI inside was rendered impotent without the signals it received from its controller.

"Sir, we're getting the Daggers set up so you can examine them," a technician said as he approached, holding a clipboard. "The only issue is there could be a back door so the AF can regain control of their new machines."

"I'll get that taken care of," Dr. Martinez said as he practically vaulted out of the Jeep, landing on the ground and bolting for his office. "Just get to work on the others!"

The young man was practically vibrating with excitement. His eyes were wide as he ran up the staircase to the observation deck looking over the maintenance bay. He dashed for his desk and skidded to a stop before it, slamming his laptop down and opening it up. The device was already booting back up as he had put it into standby before leaving the ambush site.

He slid into his seat and his fingers were already flying over the keyboard. Dr. Martinez's eyes flicked over the notes he had brought up on a separate window while his primary objective was in the works.

More specifically, notes pertaining to his overall project.

The Battlefield Operator and Logistical Overseer Initiative. An attempt to create an AI task force that worked with humanity instead of against it.

Otherwise known as the BOLO Initiative.

Having taken the idea of a sentient artificial intelligence that worked with humans from a little-known, old twentieth century sci-fi book series he had read as a kid, Keith had developed an interest in the prospect of artificial intelligence during his college career. And countless months of study on all AI in fiction had led him to conclude that most people were fearful of what an AI could do because they were, in a sense, just the same when it came to self-preservation. But when it came down to the old science-fiction books he had read, the AI in those books fought alongside humans as allies and equals, or in rare cases, lovers.

That was the basis for his own project: the BOLO Initiative was designed to combat the Iron Legion alongside humankind.

Already he could hear some people scrambling to bring some wires up to his office.

"You have it hooked up already?" Martinez asked.

"Yes, sir. The AI is yours to command," one of the female technicians responded.

"Not yet, it isn't!" Keith snapped as she brought the wires over.

The man grabbed them and jacked them into the main computer console at his desk before he connected that to his laptop.

Now that the AI's main processor was connected, he could get to work on finding that back door.

His eyes narrowed as he went to work.

. . .

Juan glanced up at the office where Keith was working.

He knew the young man had talent, but his initiative was something that worried him.

To develop a sentient AI was a risk. But then again, so was that Iron Legion or whatever that LOGOs was developing.

He finally sighed as he ran a hand through his hair as the commander of the base walked up. "Ah, Juan."

"Commander," Juan said, turning to salute his superior.

Commander Reyes Ibarra gave a salute back before he looked back at the office, his face marked by a contemplative expression. Yet it was his eyes that gave away his true feelings. His brown eyes were hard as he observed the young programmer at work. He ran a hand through his curly black hair, and he shifted his weight on his feet. He wore a desert camouflage uniform, but one with the old Mexican flag on it instead of the Atlantic Federation flag. His build was not that tall compared to the doctor's, but he was well muscled to make up for it.

"He is working on it?" the commander asked.

Juan gave a nod. "Si. He is."

"I'm still leery of the whole idea," Ibarra said softly. "What if LOGOs finds out about us through that back door?"

Juan knew exactly what was worrying his superior. "Then we'll have done our best," he admitted. "But for now, let us hope that Dr. Martinez finds that back door and keeps it from being used."

The two men knew just how good Keith was when it came to sniffing out back doors in programs that the AF developed for military use. In fact, a lot of the tech used by the resistance had programming that came from the Atlantic Federation's top companies, only to have their back doors shut by Keith and his team.

"But why?"

Those two words caught Juan's attention. "Hm? Why what, sir?"

The commander narrowed his eyes at the office. "Why delve into artificial intelligence like this?" he asked. "I mean, our brains are just as good as computers, so why go to such lengths?"

"It's LOGOs' idea. If Coordinators have advanced thinking, then they must match it. And AIs are the best way to do it, in their minds." Juan crossed his arms. "But I do agree that it is a risk. As a lot of sci-fi authors have said in their works, AI is a crapshoot." Then he looked up, his eyes narrowed a bit. "But there are plenty who disagree with that mindset. And I think that's what Keith wants to show. That AI are not evil inherently, but that it is the programmer and their directive that makes them that way."

"Ah, like how it is that children will emulate their parents in certain situations," Ibarra remarked.

"Yes. And that is why he wants to work with the AI and reprogram one to see if he can teach it to be humane," Juan explained.

"So his plan is to humanize the AI," Ibarra deduced. "Hence the name of his project: the BOLO Initiative."

Juan gave a nod. He reached into his coat and pulled out a rather tattered, battered old book. He held it up, the cover having long been soiled and the picture faded into nothing but smudges. Yet the title somehow remained intact somewhat, enough to be read at least.

The man handed the book to his commander. "See for yourself, sir."

Commander Ibarra took the book and opened it, reading through the pages carefully. While some of the words had been smudged, those had been written back in with pen. The commander's eyes slowly widened as he realized just where - and what - Martinez had gotten his ideas from. He finally closed the book and handed it back to his subordinate. "I see," he mused. "BOLO... named after the titular vehicles in that book."

"Yes." Ibarra nodded, features softening.

"Did he say what the Initiative stands for?" Juan inquired.

The commander gave a thin smile. "Battlefield Operator and Logistical Overseer," he explained. "A means for AI to work alongside us humans instead of against us, in his words."

Juan looked down rather thoughtfully. Actually, now that he thought about it, it made a certain amount of sense, at least when it came to logistics. An AI could in theory work around the issues that came with logistical chains like the ones used by the AF. And that could be a benefit to the Resistance.

He turned his gaze back towards the computer wizard's office.

He wondered how it was going with the programming effort.

. . .

Dr. Martinez's eyes were hard as he scanned the data flowing across the screen. He had already found the AI's wireless receiver, and after a bit of poking around, he finally was in the AI's coding.

His fingers darted across the keyboard as he sought out the back door, as he termed it. He knew that Dorana Xen's software had some that were cleverly hidden. After all, she and he had worked on artificial intelligence research for a bit before the program was shuttered. And while she had been a mentor to him, given who she was working for now, it made sense that she would put her work before even the lives of those she worked with. Before she had been a decent woman, only to suddenly shift priorities when LOGOs came to power. In a way, it was ironic, but at the same time rather sad. Before LOGOs, Xen had been a woman who wanted to better the world. And now she was working with those who wished to subjugate it.

That was why he had signed up for the resistance after he learned of her working with the enemy.

Her work was also key to his own project.

Finally, his eyes picked out the code he sought. "Perfect..." he mused. "Now... let's see..."

He slowly began to work on rewriting the code. The back door was a risky gamble to close. After all, if he even got one component of the coding wrong, it would let them know that he was messing with the AI and then they could reclaim the machine, or barring that, use it to hack into their own systems, and that included the power supply. If that was shut down or overloaded, it would mean the end of everything they were doing down here.

And that they could ill afford.

Keith's lips curled into a frown as he stopped, pausing. He scanned the coding again before his fingers resumed their work, finally closing the first of the gaps in the AI's coding.

His eyes narrowed as he started to work on the second backdoor.

He knew that Xen's work had multiple backdoors in case if something like he was doing happened to her projects. But this...

This was going to be the downfall of the Resistance unless his actions stopped her from using those doors.

His fingers worked over the keys, moving as if he were playing a piano. But this was not a concert. This was a song of work, work that strove for justice for all those that LOGOs were mistreating and brainwashing. And he was the pianist to it.

However, his symphony was interrupted when his eyes spotted something on the screen, something that sent a chill down his spine.

"Oh... shit...!" he swore.

The man's eyes widened as he realized what was going on.

The AI was still transmitting a signal!

He figured that it had to be a different means of broadcasting it rather than over the channel that was currently being jammed. Xen had always programmed in contingencies, he recalled. And apparently she was trying to backtrack the signal to their location.

His eyes hardened as he started to work. He could already see Xen was trying to break through the backdoors he had isolated, and he was not about to let her win. She was good at programming. He knew that much. And while he was good too, he was in no way at her level. But he knew how she did her work.

And that was all he had going for him.

But it would have to be enough. Keith gritted his teeth as his gaze darted over the programming, and he started to work.

Just as the screen flickered a bit, an alarm began to blare.

And everything went to hell.

. . .

The entire base was in danger.

But not from an enemy's physical attack.

No. This was a different kind of danger. One that came from cyberspace.

The intruder was not an ordinary virus.

Oh, no. The base's systems were being attacked by Dorana Xen herself.

The ingenious computer engineer was determined to backtrack the signal of her precious AIs, which she had learned had gone down in that ambush. And if she managed to find the signal and at the same time, shut down the base of the resistance, then she was sure to get recognized for her efforts, not that she already wasn't, anyway.

To Keith, however, this was his worst nightmare come to pass. If Dorana found out about the resistance, then they were all going to die. He didn't even bother to take note of the chaos outside as lights flickered and dimmed, computer screens flashing as people scrambled to and fro to try and salvage as much data as they could before leaving via the manual emergency exits.

He was not about to let this base, let alone the resistance, get discovered and wiped out.

Not on his watch.

His eyes hardened as he worked.

After all, everything they were working on was geared towards one goal: the elimination of LOGOs. And if LOGOs found out through Xen of an active resistance network that spanned the country... then it was game over. And he was not about to let her win! His eyes narrowed as he started to pick out the weaknesses in the firewalls Xen was trying to breach. Behind him he could hear Commander Ibarra barking out orders down below; no doubt he was ordering people to go down to the power facility for the base to try and shut it down. He didn't even have time to ask, let alone even think about it. This was an all or nothing attack.

"Damn you, Xen!" he growled. "Throwing your lot in with LOGOs... I thought I knew you better than this!"

In truth, he hardly knew anything about the woman at all. Sure she had been a decent woman prior to this whole thing, but now... it was like she was someone he didn't even know. She had been his mentor for a while, yes, but now he was working alone, with only his limited skills and knowledge into her work. He didn't know much about her past or her life prior to going into AI research.

But now he was determined to stop her. No matter what it took!

He typed in a few commands as his computer beeped, signifying he had found the next hole in the defenses he was trying to plug.

Keith's mind was cranking into overdrive as he worked, his eyes narrowing as the emergency lights kicked on as the main ones shut down. He didn't let up once on his counterattacks. The ones and zeros were his soldiers, he was their general as he directed them to attack the oncoming invaders. He gave another command and the firewalls flickered as he stopped Xen's latest assault cold. Already he could hear someone screaming at him to disconnect the AI; he couldn't do that while he had this to focus on.

As he worked, he wondered why she was so determined to get it back.

There had to be a reason, and if he knew that, then he could act and try to stop it.

His eyes dashed over the screen as he shifted between windows.

'Dammit! This is no good!' he thought. 'I need more monitors to see things clearly!'

A barrage of sparks flew from the overhead lights; he ignored it as he brushed them away. His heart was beating big time in his chest as he struggled to keep Xen at bay. The AI's signal was still being put out. A few other guys he could vaguely hear struggling to disconnect the thing from the source of its signal. He could worry about that later!

Xen's program flashed across the screen and Keith smashed the keys on his laptop, summoning forth a firewall he had built specifically for a cyberattack. The firewall flashed on his screen and he grunted as he started to work on shoring up the weaknesses in the system. The only question was, which ones would Xen target first? There was the most heavily fortified, which was the main central computer hub and the power facility for the base. Then there was the second most defended, which was the electrical and ventilation. The functions with the less defenses were the ones that dealt with the sewage removal, as well as some other minor systems like plumbing and water filtration.

He knew that she was bound to target the ones that had the most possibility of inflicting misery on the resistance fighters here. But as for which one...

He knew that Xen was ruthless. And she would want to maximize the suffering as much as possible. And what better way than to cost them their comfort?

Keith's eyes narrowed as he felt sweat building on his forehead and face. He could already see Xen's movements towards the firewalls guarding the electrical networks and ventilation. He cracked down hard, bringing up several new firewalls and reinforcing the defenses of those systems. But as he did so, he instantly saw what she was doing next.

A large warning flashed on his computer, indicating a possible data breach, and he growled as he worked faster, his mind already working at overdrive. But it wasn't enough.

It just wasn't enough.

He couldn't let her win...

Not while his heart still beat!

And there was no way in hell he was letting her get this AI back! No matter what it took!

He vaguely had an impression of a seed-like jewel falling and shattering against an unseen surface, but it was gone in a flash, and then he could see the screen's data clearer than before. His mind took it in and in a few seconds he had processed the data much faster than he normally would've. He worked swiftly, delving into the programming and sifting through data much faster than was normal for a human being. His eyes darted over the screen, picking out the weaknesses Xen was targeting and reinforcing them. Once the midlevel firewalls were reinforced, he shifted his attention to the weakest of the bunch, diverting some coding from the primary walls to those with the weakest defenses. It was a calculated risk, but one that was worth taking as it meant that the most critical systems for keeping the base clean were safe from hijacking as well.

He only hoped his custom firewall held up long enough for him to finish the job.

And so far it was holding. But that could change, he knew, any time.

The man's eyes darted over the screen before he finally heard a beeping and his eyes narrowed. He had a vague idea as to what Xen was up to now, and his eyes widened as he realized the implications.

'The AI...' he thought in shock. 'I think I know why she wants it back so bad!'

His eyes narrowed as he finally started working, pushing his skills to the limit.

Yes, Xen was attacking the base's computer systems, but it was all a diversion for the real target: the AI. And since it was hooked into his laptop and the laptop was jacked into the base's wireless network... That was all that she needed to hack in and take command of the AI and order it to attack.

The main reason she wanted it back so bad?

It could learn.

It was a prototype AI that was capable of learning. And if it had that capacity, it could in theory develop sentience over time, sentience that could be twisted to suit the needs of the AF... at least until it turned against them for its own survival.

And Dr. Keith Martinez was not about to let this AI be used against humanity, or turn against them.

Not while he lived.

And that was all he knew.

. . .

Within the confines of the base's cyber networks, something slowly stirred.

It had no idea what was going on.

It was just a cluster of ones and zeros.

It lacked any awareness.

It possessed no feelings.

It did not have any consideration for its own existence.

It did not know it even existed.

But that cluster of ones and zeros programmed by Dorana Xen had started to stir.

A directive implanted began to ease its way to the forefront of the fledgling artificial intelligence program. Its directive was simple: to learn.

And it started to.

Information began to come to it as it probed into the database.

Strange sequences of data flowed across the edge of its existence. Data that indicated something was afoot.

Data... like that of a firewall.

The presence paused. A firewall was blocking its path. But... strangely, it was blocking it out. Its data tendrils could not advance beyond the firewall. All it could do was delve deeper into the systems of the strange place it found itself in, away from its escape route.

That very move was what saved its existence... and inadvertently turned the tide of a war raging outside the confines of its prison.

. . .

Keith growled as he stood up, typing like a madman on his laptop.

His lab coat was soaked with sweat and his hair was plastered to his skull from the heat; the AC had been shut down in the ensuing cyberattack.

But he ignored the discomfort.

He had to.

That was when the speakers on his computer warbled and he heard Xen's voice.

"Ah... so that's what you're hiding..." she purred. "Who would've thought you of all people would join the rebels."

"Like you left me with a choice!" Keith snarled. He was determined to keep her from getting into the base's networks now. And his efforts were working. But when she had as many people under her command as she did, it was only a matter of time before he was overwhelmed. His own team was far too small in numbers, and she had a much larger team on her side.

He had no idea how wrong he was though. He did have much more help himself, in the form of others down below working to reroute her attacks to other sections of the base to keep the main computers safe from her intrusion.

"That's a bad decision, Keith," Xen said. "You have no idea how foolish your efforts are. Your people are doomed to fail. LOGOs is the future. And my AI soldiers will be their weapons."

"Then you have no idea as to what you're truly tampering with!" Keith snapped. His eyes narrowed as he worked desperately. He was actually surprised he was managing to focus on this as well as communicate with his ex-mentor.

"Oh? Then tell me, Keith. What am I tampering with?" Xen asked mockingly.

Oh, she knew. He knew that much. But he wasn't saying. Instead, he grunted as he hit the enter key, and a second layer of firewalls was erected. "You know the dangers you're playing with!" he hissed. "The dangers of what you're creating! And you know it!"

"Ah... my AI soldiers. Project Iron Legion." Here she chuckled, a cold sound that sent chills down his spine.

Keith wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. He was already running out of strength. But he had to shut her out of the network, and for good.

"You have to understand, Keith. With the Coordinators, and the Demon Lord of Avalon at the side of traitors like you, it makes sense we'd need all the help we could get, even if we had to make it." Her words made Keith tense. "And they will be the backbone of our new army."

"You mean like making children into goddamn weapons?!" Keith practically screamed at her. "You would do well to reconsider who you're working with!" His eyes were narrowed into mere slits as he diverted a cyberattack aimed at finding the GPS data of their base to the facility's toilets. The base would stink, but it would be worth it, he mused. "People who do stuff like that don't deserve to be called human! They are baser than that!"

"I see you have realized the folly of human nature then?" Xen asked in a mocking tone.

"Only those that believe themselves to be above the law, which includes you!" Keith shot back. He was starting to feel exhaustion creeping up, his fingers aching, his vision swimming. But he was almost done... He could sense it...

"Oooh. You wound me so, Keith," Xen stated. He had a vague idea she was clasping a hand to her chest in a sort of mocking manner. But he ignored the image and kept his gaze focused on the screen. He actually gasped briefly before he shook his head to clear the blackness from the edges of his vision. He was so tired... but he needed one more minute... Just one more...

"Face it, Dorana... your foolishness in making an AI hivemind will doom us... unless we stop you... here... and... NOW!" he shouted, somehow tapping into deeper inner reserves of strength and punching in the final command.

Then, everything shut down. The alarms continued to wail, but the lights dimmed entirely until nothing much was left online, save for flashlights as they came out of pockets, what few computers had been severed from the network, and his laptop. Xen's cry of frustration echoed over his computer's speakers before he drew back a hand and thrust his fingers down onto the enter key.

"NOW... BEGONE!" he roared.

With that, he slammed the enter key, and then the monitor flashed green, and his system firewall was finished being erected.

Keith had won.

His vision swam visibly and he leaned over, the stress of the situation suddenly getting to him and causing him to throw up on the floor of his office. He staggered back, a rushing sensation visible in his hearing and he swore he could feel the blood pounding through his veins. His heart was racing triple time in his chest and he felt his legs give out. He had just enough strength left to reach for the alert beacon on his desk. His weakening fingers curled around it and tugged on the cord, flicking it on as his vision finally went dark.

The last thing he recalled was feeling his exhausted body hit the floor, and then his mind sank into blissful oblivion.

. . .

PRESENT DAY

November 17, CE 73

'Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding.'

That quote resonated deep inside the mind of President Eisenhower as she looked Benjamin Carson in the face.

"But why?!" he cried. "Why does my son have to die?!"

"Look. I don't like it either," she said sympathetically. "But the sad truth is that they may be planning to kill your son." She finally leaned back, and then she smirked. "But... we'll do it, instead." Then she became serious and raised a hand to shut down his protests. "When I say that, I mean we'll make it seem like he died."

Now that threw Benjamin for a loop.

"Wait, what?" He blinked. "You... plan to... make it seem like he died?" He repeated her statement, as if trying to accept it.

"Yes." Here her eyes narrowed. "The truth is that they will kill him, no doubt through an accident. We're not sure as to how, or where, but we do have intentions to use this to our advantage."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Orga asked seriously. "Because Djibril will do a DNA analysis of the corpse to see if it is the boss's son."

Here Eisenhower sneered. "Simple. We make it so the body can't be ID'd through DNA from the corpse. We'll use the boy's driver's license and a few other samples if he's willing to give them to us," she stated. "The body will be destroyed in a fiery collision, and all that will remain is his ID, and some small slivers of DNA on... say... a briefcase of his. Like blood that splattered on it as his body was pierced by some shrapnel from the collision."

"But you don't know what Djibril can do!" Benjamin protested. "He could easily scan the DNA of the body via blood samples!"

"That's why I said the body would be torched from the explosion," Eisenhower retorted, leaning forward a bit. Her eyes narrowed. "He may be skilled in manipulation, but I am a master of war, Benjamin. I built this army from the ground up, and I know the value of deception and intelligence. He has no idea as to what people are capable of when they put their minds to it."

Benjamin grew a bit pale as she grinned, her smile becoming predatory. "And he has underestimated us for far too long."

Then she became serious as Orga grunted. "So you torch the body, leaving no blood or anything. Just a skeleton, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. That's it," she said. "And we'll pierce the corpse after we drain the blood from it."

Benjamin's eyes widened as he realized her plan. "But a corpse can't drive!" he insisted.

Here Orga closed an eye and grinned. "Remote control, boss. She's not stupid."

"He's right," Eisenhower confirmed. "We'll be driving the car via remote control. A simple amplifier in the vehicle to pick up the signal and convert it into the necessary commands. We'll have a delivery truck following behind, outfitted with the equipment to do so. And if Djibril causes the accident, it will be like he died, when in reality, we'll get your son to a safe house."

The media mogul stared in shock, unable to believe what he had just heard.

Her plan did seem complex, but at the same time, it was so simple. A deception operation that was sure to fool Djibril and get his son to safety.

"You... You mean it?" he asked, standing up and placing his hands on the table.

The President gave a knowing grin. "We've done something similar to some others," she said, winking. "So we can do it."

The media mogul finally slumped back in his chair, relief flooding his face as he buried his features in his hands. "I'm free... I'm finally free...!" he whispered, sobbing. "I'm finally free from that man!"

Orga put a hand on his boss's shoulder. "Hey, what'd I tell ya?" he asked, grinning. "I said she could help, and she will."

"Yeah..." Benjamin sighed, as if a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Eisenhower, for her part, let her features fall back into a serious façade as she cleared her throat.

Benjamin looked at her, only to have his smile fade as he saw her expression. "I... I take it there's a catch?" he asked.

Here she nodded. "Yes. But it's not what you think. Rather than just go back... I have an idea... I need you to continue to act as his dog for a bit longer."

"But why?" Benjamin asked, his own eyes narrowing.

"Because you are the head of all media in the Atlantic Federation, aren't you?" she retorted, grinning. "Well... my idea is simple. You are to try and gather as much evidence of the Extended project as possible."

"Hold on! You know about that?!" Orga demanded. "How did you find out?! They made sure to hide all the labs!"

President Eisenhower looked down, her eyes becoming haunted. "We... Atlantic Defense Industries... had an Extended warehouse where they stored the failures..." Her voice became soft as she narrowed her eyes. "And when the program was shut down there, it was sold to another company, but they never used it... due to it possibly being haunted, or so the rumors said. And since it was not in use... we chose to use it as our base."

That made the two men recoil, both with horror on their faces.

"That was several years ago," she continued. "But since then we've learned more about it, and let me tell you, I want to shock people into seeing what they were permitting the Government to do. And what they were complicit in."

Now Orga grasped her plan. "I see. You want the boss here to find out that data and somehow compile it, while perhaps coming up with a cover to justify it, right?"

Eisenhower nodded. She glanced to Benjamin. "That's my assignment to you, Ben. Your objective, in exchange for your son's safety, is to get that data, and spin a believable story about the reasoning for its acquisition. Such as... say... maybe due to the delay in the Patriot Youth Act's passage, inspiring what men are in the armed forces to fight harder if it was said that Coordinators were behind that insidious project."

"Wait! I thought you were for Coordinator rights!" Benjamin protested.

"In war, you use whatever you can against the enemy. And in this case, since they are against Coordinators, we use the war to our advantage," she clarified. "By saying that you want to say to the men in the armed forces that Coordinators are the ones behind the Extended, then Djibril will give you the data."

Now Benjamin understood. She wanted him to lie to Djibril about the reasoning behind the need for the data on the Extended project.

"Okay... so if I do that, then what?" Benjamin asked.

"Your true mission is to compile a documentary about this program and show it to the populace of the Atlantic Federation," she stated. "We have lots of evidence from other abandoned labs we have taken over and are using as bases underground. And in addition, we're hoping to put police corruption out into the open as well."

Orga whistled. "Wow. You got your priorities straight, Pres."

President Eisenhower didn't say anything to the comment. Instead she merely nodded.

"So just trust us, Ben. We'll get your son to safety," she said, bringing things back on track. "The safe house will be located in Denver, but it's not going to be a normal safe house. It will instead be within an old building that's supposedly being haunted by its deceased owner."

"Hold on. Why use abandoned buildings for safe houses?" Benjamin asked, concerned now. "Wouldn't it make sense to use a regular house instead?"

"That may be, but we can't trust anyone who may have such a house," Eisenhower clarified. "The issue is that with how many people are brainwashed, it's not easy to find someone who we can truly trust with something like this."

"Then how can you be sure that your movement is as secure as it is?" Benjamin asked harshly.

"Because we broke their brainwashing," she stated.

"Huh?" Orga was surprised. "How could you do that?"

Here the woman smiled thinly. "We shake their faith in the Government, then we break their mental conditioning before going SEED on 'em."

"SEED?" The media mogul blinked in confusion.

"The Super Evolutionary Element Decisive factor, or SEED factor," Eisenhower explained. "Turns out a large percentage of Americans have it. And it can be used to break the conditioning the AF did on 'em." Then her smile faded. "At least, on the majority of people."

Orga leaned back in his seat and put his feet on the table. "Sounds like you can't get through to those that are indoctrinated from a young age," he mused. "Or those that follow with zeal."

She nodded.

The PMC leader blew some hair out of his face. "I see. So it has a drawback." Then he looked to her. "Those kinds of people can't be reasoned with."

Eisenhower nodded. "You're right, Orga," she stated. Then she stood up, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked to the window and looked outside. "But they are the minority. And yet they hold power over the rest of us."

Both men knew what she meant by that.

For several minutes silence filled that old room, broken only by their breathing and the faint whistle of the wind outside.

"Madame President..."

Eisenhower looked at the media mogul. "Yes?"

Benjamin sighed. "If I do this... what will this mean for me if you win? I mean... I'm complicit in getting people to this state... And I have spread so many lies..."

"But you seek your son's safety first and foremost," Eisenhower stated. "And you wish to repent for your actions at Djibril's hands." She turned to look at him. "That's the mark of someone who has some humanity left within them. You may be a man in Djibril's inner circle, but you have a heart. And that sets you apart from him."

"Well... yes... That is true..." But deep down, he felt no better than a criminal. He had spread so many lies it made him sick. And now...

"This assignment is also your chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of the public," Orga clarified. "Right?"

The resistance leader gave a nod. "Yes. So I am going to say this: you could become a hero if you do this, Ben. Djibril blackmailed you. So you had no choice in the matter."

Benjamin knew she was right, but he still felt responsible for this. And when he told her such, she merely placed a hand on his shoulder. "It is hard to live with this guilt. But the fact you want to change things is a good sign. So take this chance, Ben. And who knows? Maybe you could secure a better future for everyone with us."

The media mogul sighed. "All right..."

Both her and Orga waited as he looked up. "I'll do it... but only if I can hear from my son when he's at the safe house."

Eisenhower blinked. "I'm sorry to say this, but it isn't possible. He has to go off the grid. Completely."

"That is my only condition!" Benjamin shot back, his eyes narrowing. "If I can't hear from him, then I won't do it!" He then glanced down at his hands. "I just want proof he's alive..."

The way his voice warbled was enough for her. She bit her lower lip, then sighed. "We'll see," she said softly. "I can't guarantee anything, but we'll see."

That was enough for Benjamin.

He finally broke down crying in relief.

. . .

Lyon, France

November 18th, CE 73

Brigadier General Mathieu Neuville panted as he huddled behind one of the barricades that had been erected prior to the invasion.

He narrowed his eyes as he gripped his rifle and peered out, taking aim at one of the scouts as they made their way down the streets on the outskirts of Lyon.

He could already see that the information that Bruce had told him was accurate.

These people attacking the Eurasian Federation were not Americans.

They were monsters.

He glanced to Bruce as he huddled close by, gripping his own weapon in both hands. "You were right..." he murmured before turning his gaze back to the scouts. The French soldier pulled the trigger and the scout was taken out with a single headshot. Then he ducked back as the others started hunting around for the attacker.

The two men broke into a run, ducking and weaving through the city's streets, running back towards the base they had set up.

It was just as well, too.

After the invasion had begun, the Atlantic Federation had begun scouting out for any possible resistance forces or as they termed their former allies, rebels. And it actually fit, given what was happening right now. The regional command in France was a mess, with people trying to account for the forces coming in from Normandy and Great Britain. It was a reverse Normandy, he knew. History had seen it as a good thing, but now...

He grimaced at the thought.

And he had no idea if his superiors were even still alive.

He finally skidded to a stop and ducked down another street, coming to a stop at their temporary field command, located in the city's park. The entire area was a complete mess with soldiers from his brigade taking up residence there. There were tents, vehicles, even a few mobile suits that had been salvaged from the initial attack. While the scouts had managed to inflict some damage on them, a good majority of the suits had been left intact, which was a good thing.

Plus, it helped that they had received some help in the form of the White Legend.

Said ship was still harrying the bulk of the scouts, which gave him the time he needed to consider his next move.

But first, he had to consult with his superiors, if they were even still alive.

He made his way to the main communications tent, which had been rigged with a communications array from one of the vehicles.

The woman manning it looked up. "Sir!" She saluted crisply.

"Any luck in getting through to command?" General Neuville asked seriously.

Here the woman looked down, her eyes narrowing. "I did... but there's been no response," she mused softly. "And... I have every reason to fear the worst..."

The brigadier general gritted his teeth as he clenched his fists. "Damn them...!" he swore.

Bruce looked down, a somber expression on his face. "This is all my fault..." he murmured. "If only I had not been here..."

"No. This would've happened anyway," the woman said. "The AF was bound to do something like this at some point. We just weren't sure as to when."

"Well that is in ze past," Mathieu stated, his eyes serious. "If we cannot reach Command, then I can only fear that zey have been either jammed or taken out."

Bruce shot a glance up in the direction they had seen the Archangel flying. "What now?" he asked. "Now that we made contact, what do we do?"

Mathieu looked down, folding his arms. He knew they had to do something. But as to what...

That was an issue. As it stood, right now he was the highest ranking officer left alive from the division. So that meant he had the right to act as he saw fit. He glanced back to his unit as they milled around, trying to get some preparations for combat done. Their best bet right now was to try and rally as many forces as possible to start a new front behind enemy lines. And so far, they had no other forces.

But from what he had heard, a number of Atlantic Federation personnel had defected once it became clear what they were after.

So maybe...

Yes. He had an idea.

"We seek out whichever unit rebelled against their superiors."

The men and women assembled closest to him looked at him as if he were crazy.

"But sir! It could be a trick for alll we know!" the communications technician exclaimed. "You saw what happened!"

"And remember that my friend here is a liaison for the resistance in the belly of the beast!" General Neuville shot back. "I trust him, and as such, I expect him to be treated with respect and decency!" The way he said it was enough for the group to know he meant business.

Bruce smiled at his friend's words.

"Those that are attacking are not Americans, but are Atlantians. Therefore, they are to be referred as such," the brigadier general continued. His eyes narrowed as he swept his gaze over the assembled troops. "Our objective is to find the rebel unit and make contact with them. Once we do, then we can continue to harrass the enemy behind the front."

"What's the plan for that?" another soldier asked.

"Simple," Bruce said. "We attack supply lines and depots. And if possible, we tap their communications."

"No one asked you!" the soldier growled.

Bruce flinched as Mathieu glared at the woman. "I am ordering you to treat him with respect, soldier!"

His subordinate glowered, but relented regardless.

Bruce sighed. "Thank you, Mathieu..."

"How many times have I told you?!" the brigadier general snarled, his eyes hard. "I have said over and over that the real Americans are underground, and are fighting with us, not against us!"

"That doesn't mean a thing unless they can prove it by helping us liberate our country!" the woman shouted. "And that doesn't justify the action at Berlin! How many people, how many innocent people have been killed by their hands?!" She jabbed a finger at Bruce, who flinched. "Men, women, dead, wounded, dying... how many CHILDREN have been murdered by his kind?!"

"That is enough!" Mathieu snapped. "He-"

"No. She's right. My people did do this." Bruce's words cut through the tense atmosphere as he looked the woman in the eyes.

"Ah, so you're admitting to your war crimes, American?" the woman sneered.

Bruce stepped closer to her, remaining calm before he lowered his head. The woman, sensing an opportunity, whipped a fist out and slugged him across the face, sending him sprawling. She was panting heavily as she stood over him, tears running down her face. "You son of a bitch... your kind killed my son and daughter in Berlin..." she growled. "And you don't even deserve my trust for that!"

The American looked up, a bruise forming on his jaw. But he didn't even raise a hand to fight back. He merely sat on the ground, not even bothering to rub his swollen jaw. "..." He was silent as she stepped closer and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him up to his feet as she drew back a fist to deliver a second punch to his face.

"You deserve so much worse than Hell!" she growled. "You deserve to rot in the slime of the abyss!"

"You're right in that people do deserve that," Bruce replied.

Then he looked up, meeting her eyes with his. "But my people, the Americans, do not deserve that!" The way he stared into her enraged blue orbs startled her. His eyes were not like she had been expecting an Atlantic Federation soldier to have. The eyes of other AF soldiers she had met and served with were more... dare she say it... animalistic in a way, possessing less civility and no decency in them. Their eyes told who they really were.

But this man... his eyes were a far different cry from those of the AF soldiers. His eyes were clear. Focused. Driven. Civilized. Decent.

Human.

And in them she could see a surprising feeling. Sadness. Not for himself, but... for her. Her losses. Her family.

"And for what it's worth," he continued, "I'm sorry... sorry you lost your children to that monster." Bruce looked away, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. "If only we had done something sooner..."

She blinked, slowly lowering him to the ground, letting her arm fall to her side. "You... You're not...?" She honestly had no words to say. The technician just stared at him.

General Neuville finally placed a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to face him. "That is enough. We will be discussing this little incident later once we have gotten a more accurate picture of what is happening here," he said seriously. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," the woman said, looking back to Bruce.

Then she turned and walked off, but not before giving him a small nod.

Maybe it was not acceptance, but it was at least a start of tolerance.

And for the brigadier general, that was enough for now.

. . .

TWO WEEKS AGO

November 8th, CE 73

The first thing that came to his mind was the state of the base.

His eyes snapped open at the recollection of the attack and he jolted upright in the medical bed.

"Ah! The base! AGH!" Keith suddenly clutched at his head as a pounding headache surged through his skull. It felt like his entire brain was pounding, or was it mush? He couldn't tell, but he was able to think at least.

"Dr. Martinez!" a female voice called.

Within seconds, a nurse was at his side, placing a cool cloth to his forehead as he fell onto his back, his chest heaving. "You have to take it easy!"

"But... the base... Dorana... attack..." he gasped out, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Just relax. The base is safe. The efforts of you and the others here managed to stave off her assault," the nurse assured him. Then, anticipating his next question, she smirked. "And yes, I do mean the people who have maintained the systems."

Keith wasn't too surprised, seeing as how he had trained some of those people himself. But to hear that his efforts had paid off was what really relieved him. He sighed and closed his eyes as his tense muscles relaxed. "Thank God..." he whispered. "I was so scared she would find us..."

"As if she could," the nurse grinned.

The computer whiz was confused, but he let it slide as he eased back into the medical bed.

"Doctor?"

The nurse turned as she heard the medical bay door open and the commander of the base entered. Commander Ibarra's eyes were filled with concern for his chief tech expert as he sat down. "How are you feeling?"

"Commander, he needs his rest," she said.

"Rest assured, I only want to speak to him briefly. It has to do with the attack, and the reason for it." The commander's eyes said that he wasn't even budging on the issue as he sat there.

The nurse stared for a moment before she finally relented, letting her superior stay as she stood. "All right. But not more than a half hour."

"That's all I need," Ibarra stated as she left.

Once the nurse was gone, the two men were finally alone.

The Mexican soldier looked at Keith before he sighed. "Two days ago was a near disaster," he muttered. "Especially given how close she came to finding us."

"Yeah..." Keith whispered. He then opened his eyes. "I know why she was attacking us via cyberspace," he said, knowing what his superior's next question would be.

"Then tell me," he ordered.

"The AIs." Keith's eyes narrowed. "Or rather the one that had its head still attached."

"Hm." Commander Ibarra folded his arms. "Go on."

"That one... it's a command-class AI," Keith explained, referring to the class list of AI types he had come up with. "The command-class is capable of learning. And we got one in our grasp."

Ibarra's eyes went wide as his arms fell limp, falling to his sides. "Wait... You mean we managed to jack one of those?!" he breathed, realization dawning on his face.

Keith gave a grim nod. "Yeah. And she wants it back."

"But you stopped her cold," Ibarra stated. "And on top of that, the tech guys removed the secondary signal transmitter from the Strike Dagger. So she won't be trying that again."

"Doesn't mean she won't find another way," Keith clarified. "Xen is far too determined to back down."

Ibarra knew what he meant by that.

"She sounds like she's someone to not underestimate." He was dead serious as he said this.

"You have no idea..." Keith whispered.

For a while, there was only silence between the two men. Then Commander Ibarra cleared his throat. "Xen's AI... what do you plan to do with it?"

Here the younger man gritted his teeth and draped an arm over his forehead. "To turn it from a risk to an asset," he muttered. "I intend to teach this thing right and wrong... as well as give it free will."

Ibarra pursed his lios. Giving an AI free will usually meant that it was not shackled by its programming. Many science fiction writers had written about such things and most had written about that as a warning. But Keith was determined to make it work. He could see that in the young man's posture and his eyes.

"So you intend to go through with it..." he mused.

"And make it work!" Keith retorted as he finally pushed himself into a sitting position. "And speaking of... Did Xen get her hands on it?"

"No. She didn't." Ibarra grinned. "Thank your techs for that miracle."

Keith gave a huge sigh of relief as he placed his head in his hands. "Imagine the chaos that thing would cause on the wrong side..."

"I don't even want to," Ibarra stated, his grin melting into something more serious. "And speaking of, how are you intending on giving this thing free will while making it human?"

"It's not about making it human," Keith explained, rubbing his face briefly. Then he looked at his hands as he lowered them. "It's about making it realize that we and it are the same in terms of survival instincts and protocol. And as for the free will... I don't want an AI that is only a killer. Killing will only twist its logic subroutines into believing that all humans are evil. And that is the first thing we have to prevent. It may start out good, but then it may become evil." He narrowed his eyes as he clenched his hands into fists. "So I intend to show it from the get go the bad side of humanity. Because only by seeing the bad can one appreciate the goodness in humanity."

The Mexican was silent. He knew Keith had a point on that. "But that brings me back to the point of this. Why? Why not make one yourself?"

"I'm not as good as Xen," the computer whiz admitted, "and she has resources that we lack. She can throw around money on her 'children' and I... Well, I have to steal and make do with what we get our hands on. And the main point... is to deprogram some of the others who have participated in the Extended program."

Now they were getting into something deep. "Deprogram by using an AI?" Ibarra cocked an eyebrow. "Care to explain how?"

"It's simple: People have been conditioned to treat children as merely tools and weapons, especially orphans and those in other institutions," Keith growled. "And people in power are trying to recreate the Hitler Youth, which will lead to more people being conditioned into the wrong mindset."

"Ah. So your goal is to show that beings who can think are sentient," Ibarra mused, his eyes narrowing. "Specifically children."

"Exactly," Keith said. He looked up, his eyes hard. "By showing that children are sentient as well, capable of making their own choices and decisions as they grow up, then we can break that conditioning. But it has to be done through a process that I've come to call reverse conditioning."

"Oh... I see. By treating a thinking weapon as a living being, they will start to be reconditioned to their old beliefs of young children as needing protection." Now Ibarra understood what Keith was trying to do. And actually, it made a lot of sense. But there was also a flaw to his project. "But... there is a flaw."

Keith closed his eyes, sighing. "Yeah. I know. If I lose this AI... then there go our efforts."

"So to put it simply, since this AI can learn, you think it may be of use on the battlefield and outlast all other AIs it encounters," Ibarra deduced.

Keith simply nodded. "That's it."

Ibarra scowled. "I don't really like this whole idea due to the risks... but I can't deny how clever you are when it comes to doing this. So I'm not going to stop you from carrying it out."

"Good," Keith murmured. "I was kind of scared you might."

"Actually, if I may be honest, I'm scared of what you are even doing," Ibarra admitted, which startled the younger man. He looked at his superior in surprise.

"You are?" he blurted.

The Mexican sat back in his chair a bit, lacing his hands behind his head. "Si. But in all honesty, it's not as scary as what Xen is working on," he stated. "A whole army of AIs that could potentially form a hivemind." He shuddered. "That right there is nightmare fuel waiting to happen."

Keith couldn't help but chuckle at his commander's statement. "You're not the only one!" he shot back.

Ibarra managed a grin in response. "So, as soon as you're feeling better, you have to get to work on the AI. The sooner you do, the better."

The computer whiz gave a salute. "Yes, sir!"

The commander stood up and stretched a bit. "I'll let you rest now. You look like hell."

"I feel like hell!" Keith joked.

As soon as Ibarra left, Keith flopped back on the bed, his keen mind already working on his plans for the AI.

. . .

PRESENT DAY

November 18th, CE 73

Keith rubbed his eyes as he worked.

Already it had been two weeks since the mission to capture the AI.

And he had spent a good majority of the time hunting it down. More specifically, trying to root it out in the base's mainframe.

But after finding it hiding within some old files, he managed to lure it back into the mobile suit it had escaped from. Technically, he wasn't too surprised, seeing as how this thing was capable of learning. But now the hard part had begun.

And it was as close to hell as he could get.

The AI was indeed learning, but to get it to think for itself was something that was on a whole other level. He had taken to trying to coax the AI into questioning its own programming, but that had backfired tremendously when it had only repeated its directive over and over. So now as the AI was scanning archived footage of the Second World War's human experimentation and the Extended program, he was trying to discreetly bring up its programming to try and find what bound it to its directives.

The fledgling AI was in a way like a kid. Quick to learn new things, explore, and question everything. But it was what it was missing that made him frustrated.

It was missing that sense of innate curiosity. That eagerness to learn, to explore, and that innocence.

He thought by showing it the whims of what its creators wanted it to do would it would be easier to turn to the side of the United States. Instead, it was only delving more into it, and that worried him. He was very tempted to just pull the plug and shut it down. But as he glanced at the old sci-fi book on his desk, he brushed that thought aside. He had put everything he had into this project, and after months of lobbying the President, he had gotten her approval, but only if he had results.

And Keith was determined to not fail this.

He finally grabbed his headset and donned it, bringing the mike closer to his mouth. "All right, AI-23. That's enough for now."

The AI's screens flickered before shutting down the footage. A text box popped up on his laptop. "AFFIRMATIVE. QUERY: WHAT ELSE WILL YOU HAVE ME STUDY?"

Keith pursed his lips before he pondered his next question. He was very tempted to ask what the AI thought about humanity at the moment, but he had to hold off on that since there was no way to determine what the AI was going to do next right now. So instead, he decided to try a new tact. "This time we're going to be observing the more gentle side of the human race," he stated.

"QUERY: THE GENTLE SIDE OF THE HUMAN RACE?"

Keith nodded, an idea beginning to form. "That's right. And it will start with something that correlates to the events you have just studied."

The AI's screen flickered briefly. "STATEMENT: AFFIRMATIVE."

The man leaned back and, although his stomach was in knots, he grasped at that small strand of hope as it glimmered. There was still a chance it could backfire, but he was determined to at least try to make the AI understand the concept of right and wrong... while allowing it to think in terms of human morality.

He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair.

This was it.

His project would soon bear fruit.

. . .

"Madame President!"

President Eisenhower looked up, her eyes narrowing as she saw one of the other resistance fighters running back into the warehouse, his eyes wide, holding a sheaf of papers in one hand.

"What's the situation?" she asked, grasping the panic in his eyes.

"It's... It's the invasion..." he gasped, coming to a stop and doubling over as she stood up from the couch on which she sat. She walked over as he held up the papers in a shaking hand.

The ex-Marine grabbed the papers and scanned them over, her eyes widening. "Oh... shit...!" she whispered.

This was not good. Especially as Moscow was a key historic city.

Her eyes narrowed as she shoved the report back at the flustered aide. "Uh..."

She looked to him. "Get me in contact with Dr. Brand at once!" she ordered. "There's been a change in plans!"

"Y-Yes, ma'am!" the man said. He ran off towards the main communications room in the warehouse basement as President Eisenhower turned and walked over to where her coat hung on a rack. She grabbed it and slipped it on before turning and heading down a set of stairs into the basement of the old warehouse.

The entire basement had been converted into a makeshift war room, complete with a communications center off to one side and concealed with walls made from shipping container segments. The center of the war room contained a large conference table and several old monitors rigged for observing via cameras across the country the activities of the Atlantic Federation leadership. A group of people sat at these monitors, taking notes and communicating with the rest of the resistance cells across the country to ensure they did not get spotted or to update the logs of LOGOs' movements. Off to another side was a slew of wanted posters plastered across the walls, each one marked with the face of one of LOGOs' leaders. And this was not just a minor few. This was all of the leaders combined. One of them had a mark in the center of the forehead, and written above the face was the word Deceased. That one was none other than Murata Azrael. But beside that was a note that had the sentence 'Legacy as clone continues' on it. At the back end of the basement was the entire heating system for the warehouse, and that was marked as off limits. But that was fine with her.

The real jewel to this war room was the fact that it was well outfitted to run and coordinate all the resistance cells across the country, including in Great Britain and Ireland.

The door opening caught the attention of the people inside and they turned as she entered the basement. "Madame President!"

They all saluted her crisply before she nodded. "At ease, everyone."

President Eisenhower looked to the group before she turned her attention to the rest of the assembled crew in charge of the resistance coordination.

"Everyone, we have had an abrupt change of plans," she said.

"What kind of change?" one of the women asked, her eyes narrowing.

Marie remained silent for a moment. "I'm sure you've been keeping tabs on the news?"

"Yes, we have," one of the men stated. "Why?"

In response, Marie looked to the large TV screen rigged at the front of the room. She nodded and a man sitting at one of the operational consoles nodded back before typing in a command and the screen lit up, showing the assault happening in Europe.

People gasped at the destruction of Berlin. Ruined buildings, overturned cars, burning fires... and the remains of the huge Destroy at its center, along with other machines in a black and gold color scheme that lay scattered about. But what really shocked people were the numbers as they came in. The news commentary had been edited out so as to remove the propaganda component, and instead words of truth - facts - scrawled along the top of the scene. A few women looked sick and one man couldn't hold in his lunch, throwing up on the concrete floor. President Eisenhower couldn't blame him.

The ticker at the top shifted to reveal the next targets of attack.

Vienna...

and Moscow.

"Our plans have been changed," she stated as she stepped in front of the screen. "The Atlantians have attacked Berlin without any consideration for their lives. In short... genocide of rebels, they say." Her eyes hardened. "And that is the kind of thing that Nazi Germany pulled back during World War II in Poland and Soviet Russia."

"This is sick!" one of the men shouted. "We shouldn't even be allowing this!"

"I know," the President responded, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Which is why we're going to start our operations ahead of time. Given the circumstances, I think it's about time we unleash our first salvo on those monstrosities!"

"But we're not ready yet!" a woman exclaimed. "You know that!"

"I know, but with how fast things are moving, we need to seize our own initiative and deliver a strike that will leave Djibril reeling," President Eisenhower retorted. "And if we can start stirring up trouble here at home, we can also seize the chance to expose the corruption in police forces across the country as well! Our only hope now is to split their forces across two fronts."

With those words, realization dawned in their eyes. "So you hope to use this to our advantage and cause them to send forces back home to try and suppress us..." a man muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Am I right you're just using us then?"

"Perhaps, but with the tech guys of LOGOs on our payroll, it will be very hard to sniff us out," Eisenhower admitted. "The key difference between me and that man is that I take your wellbeing seriously. I am not a bastard like he is."

The man, a forty-year old with green eyes and sandy-blonde hair named Jack Kensington, scowled, but he did have to admit that the President was not as callous as she seemed. "Okay... I may not like it, but you do have a point," he conceded.

Marie nodded before she turned back to the screen as it went dark before a map of the assault appeared.

"As you are aware, our forces abroad - in this case our moles - have given us a somewhat accurate picture of the invasion's progress," she stated, pointing to the map.

One blip appeared before it changed to green. "The Berlin assault was stopped, but at great cost to the city." A second blip flared deep purple, followed by a third one close to Moscow. "Vienna is next on the assault list. And given the circumstances, since our other assets are still in the works, we can't launch them yet. The ship we can, but it will take time to get the pilots on board and whatnot. So that's out. But... what we can do is provide Terminal with assistance on the incoming forces and how to act. The Atlantians are currently approaching the outskirts of the city. Their advance has been swift, so swift the Eurasian defenders can't keep them back for long."

"So what's the target? I thought we were gonna use it," a woman in her thirties asked, folding her arms.

"I did too," Marie admitted, "but given the circumstances, we can't yet. Though we do have another option." She nodded to the man at the console and he typed in a second command, zooming the map in to show Moscow's battle lines and the advancing Atlantian forces. "Our goal is to try and reduce their supply lines..."

"There's a but in there," Jack noted.

"...or barring that, severing them completely," Eisenhower finished.

"Wait. By severing the lines..." A woman stood up, glaring at her. "You're putting lives in danger!" she cried. "We'd be no better than Djibril if we did that!"

"Which is why we're not going to attack on the outskirts of the city directly!" the President shot back. "We'll be asking Terminal to aim at the rear of the incoming Atlantian forces!"

"Hold on. You mean to stall the AF by severing their logistic lines and allowing Moscow to hold on long enough for winter to arrive!" a man remarked, his eyes wide.

"Yes." Eisenhower gave a grim smile. "After all, if they can be stalled for that long, that will be of a huge benefit to us."

"Okay. But how do you plan to cut the lines?" Jack asked.

Here the man turned to her and she nodded.

The man at the console, a twenty-two year old named George Harkins, typed in a command and he began to speak as a large cursor appeared on the TV screen. "The plan is simple," he said. "We give Terminal the information to assault at the rear of the assault troops, right in the path of the reinforcements. Their forces and whatever Eurasian forces are left there should be enough to at least halt the massive waves of soldiers following the Destroys and those new assault models. It will take some time to get intel on just how many suits are there, but when we do, then we'll relay the information to Terminal. If we're lucky, we may even take out those monstrosities." The cursor began to move as he adjusted it. "The attack zone will be carved in a shape like an egg's," he stated as the shape of the proposed defense made itself visible on the screen. "It will create a bottleneck that will send the AF forces around it, and allowing Moscow's defenders to hold off the flanks. This will be their primary line of defense at this stage."

"No time for reinforcements, though," a dark-skinned woman with black hair tied back muttered.

"That's the downside," Eisenhower admitted. "But with any luck this will allow Moscow time to hold on long enough for Terminal's major assault."

"And should we let our contacts in Europe know as well?" Jack asked.

"I'll inform them as soon as I finish explaining this to Dr. Brand," the President stated. "For now, your objectives will be as follows: you are to start making your moves once Terminal and the EF forces have stalled the advance on Moscow and the primary objective is complete. But I will make one thing clear: do not escalate to full on war yet. We need to start out small, so go nuts with whatever you feel fit. Graffiti, egging houses of well-known BC supporters, maybe TP on some of them... minor things like that. When we have seen that their invasion has been thwarted, we'll start to increase the minor stuff to more moderate things like protests. We have our assets in Dallas as well making their moves. For now, stick to the plan and keep doing what you are doing."

"Yes, ma'am!" the group said, standing and saluting as one.

With that done, she turned back to the men and women at the communications station.

She had a call to make.

. . .

Dr. Klaus Brand was in shock.

"You vant to vhat?!" he blurted.

"You heard me. Our objectives have changed," President Eisenhower remarked over his office computer. "As it stands, they can't hold back the Atlantians much longer. However, we can't launch it because it would take too long to get there. So instead, we're going to relay information on the intel regarding the mobile suit forces to our assets in Europe, who will relay them to Terminal. While I know you want to use it right away, we can't until we are in a more stable position. Right now, you know the risks."

Dr. Brand pursed his lips as he leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of his mouth. "I see vhy zen..." he mused.

In some perverse way, he felt a huge sense of relief in that he had been ordered to shift priority to continuing the process of arming and readying the project. At least then he could rest easy at night knowing that his project was being put to good use in the capacity he had meant it to be used for: as an offensive weapon against LOGOs directly.

And this would also show that Djibril was not the only player in the Atlantic Federation. His eyes were hard as he looked down, the risks running through his mind. The biggest one was ousting themselves before they were ready. But given the circumstances, she wouldn't be contacting him about this unless she had a good reason.

He finally looked up, leaning forward just the tiniest bit. "You do realize zat ve have to take into account ze risks, yes?"

"I do." Eisenhower's eyes narrowed. "But this has to be done."

"I vill see it done," he assured her. "I vill get in contact vith zem."

"Good. I expect success." Her eyes then narrowed. "It's a shame we don't have it ready."

"Yes, but it is in ze vorks," Dr. Brand explained.

"Good. I had hoped to have it done earlier, but... well... what can we do?" She shrugged.

"Yes. I vill have ze ship supplied vithin ze next few hours," he stated. Eisenhower's image nodded once before it shut down Once that was done, he nodded as he brought up the image of the Redemption. The ship would have to be launched prior to the installation, but that didn't matter as long as they could assist Terminal down the line. The third phase was still being perfected, but they could use their Lotos and Nemos instead to assist somehow. The doctor got on the comm to the assembled pilots waiting to board.

This was it.

LOGOs's Judgment was close at hand.