Hey, peeps~! Here's the next chapter of The Phoenix Rising. And this one is gonna be really good. :3
Review replies:
- operation meteor: Hey, glad you enjoyed that part. :3 And you're right on that logistics is rarely examined in these kinds of stories. I wanted to showcase the importance of moving supplies during wartime. And as for how the CIA headhunters are being taken out... Well, that's a surprise~! X3
- Spiceracksargent001: Yeah, things are getting tense, indeed. With the war heating up, it's of the utmost necessity to get these projects underway. So of course people will be tense. :3
- KentLinuxStadfelt: Well, Project Reaper... You'll just have to see~! X3 But glad ya liked the logistical aspect of it. :3
(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
CHAPTER VIII: Subtle Movements
November 8th, CE 73
"Ah. Rear Admiral Xen."
Lord Djibril sneered as he sat in his chair, one hand resting against his cheek as he leaned to the side, acting all for the worth like the world was on his side.
For her part, Rear Admiral Dorana Xen had a good idea as to what he was calling about.
Her project Iron Legion's progress.
Contrary to her hopes, things had taken a setback.
And it was not a small one, either.
This was a major setback.
Especially considering how the prototype command class AI she had painstakingly developed was jacked by a bunch of rebels, one of whom was her former coworker and protégé, Keith Martinez.
The bad news was that they had managed to release a very nasty virus into her computer networks, which set back her deadline by a whole month. And the technicians were still working to find every last trace of the virus.
"Lord Djibril." Xen gave a curt nod. "I take it you wish to know about the project's progress?"
He gave a nod, the faint purple lipstick on his lips catching the light. In all honesty, she found it a bit ridiculous for a man of his stature to wear something like that.
"Please do," he said. "I am curious as to whether the investment in the Eurasian ace will pay off."
Xen took in a breath and let it out. "Well, the project is moving as planned..." Her voice trailed off as she saw him frown slightly. "But there was... a setback," she stated.
"What kind of setback, Rear Admiral?" Djibril asked, his voice silky smooth and icily calm. "Because if it holds things up, this will give the Coordinator scourge time to counterattack."
"Project Iron Legion is progressing, but the setback that happened occurred in Mexico," she explained. "I sent one of the AIs to be given the data from the Wyvern out with a small unit to test its abilities. And it turns out that somewhere in the desert there is a rebel stronghold."
Djibril was silent as he pondered that information, and that let her continue her debrief. "The rebels somehow managed to get their hands on a number of my AI soldiers, which, unfortunately, included the AI that was to be the commanding AI. I was able to backtrack its signal to an underground stronghold. It was a lot harder than I anticipated to break into the stronghold's cyberspace, but I did it. And this stronghold was very well defended in that regard."
"So you mean to tell me that, after all the efforts gone into purging the race traitors who called this country their home... there is a holdout of rebels right under my NOSE?!" Djibril roared. "I know we exterminated all resistance to our rule! So how could they evade us for so long?!"
"I do not have an answer, my lord," Xen admitted, giving her boss the proper respect he deserved. She bowed. "I did find the AI, but it was due to an old coworker of mine that I was unable to get it back. The little bastard had a nasty virus trap set up for me," she explained. "And even now, we're still trying to remove the virus from our systems. But it is almost complete."
"This coworker of yours managed to send a virus into your systems?" Djibril's eyes narrowed dangerously. "That's not like you, Xen."
"Rest assured, I was just as surprised as you when I learned of it," Xen clarified.
"I assume you managed to get the data on this rebel stronghold?" Djibril inquired, sitting up straight and tenting his fingers in front of his mouth.
"Unfortunately no," she stated, looking down. "Keith Martinez, that's his name, managed to throw me off. I can only get a vague idea of where they may be, my lord. I know they are somewhere in Mexico's vast deserts, but that is all I can get. The signal for the AI was cut off shortly after it was captured."
"We need an AI that can command the rest of Iron Legion," Djibril reminded her. "If we have only two, it will not work."
"Rest assured, I had a backup AI for in case one of the others went missing or suffered a memory wipe," Xen assured her boss. "It's not uncommon for such things to happen in this field. And need I remind you it did happen?"
Djibril pursed his lips as he recalled the last testing session of the AIs. The last session had gone well enough, but after a freak lightning strike hit one of the mobile suits, the AI inside it was wiped completely, resulting in a backup being installed within that very same suit. The setback had been minor, not major like this one was. "I recall that one," he muttered. "It took only a day to get it fixed. This sets us back by a month. And that is a month we cannot afford."
"We can make up the time," the rear admiral insisted. "I have no qualms about not holding back to get results."
The Lord of Earth pondered her remark, then smiled. "That is true," he admitted. "Unlike the rest of your kind, you put your work before everything else. Including emotions."
Xen gave a wry smirk. "I aim to please," she purred.
Djibril nodded. "Good. Now... on to more pressing matters." His eyes hardened. "I want those rebels eliminated, Rear Admiral. And if they do manage to turn the AI to their cause, we'd have a real threat to our objectives."
"I understand, Lord Djibril. The AI was designed to be able to learn and adapt. So if they do turn it to their side, it will be considered a top priority for my forces to eliminate. It was supposed to be a top of the line commanding AI. But now... it will be merely a tainted tool of the rebels." Xen was not too keen on having the resistance acquire such a state-of-the-art AI. If they had such a thing, then who knew how dangerous they could become? It was bad enough that a small group had escaped detection for so long. But to hear they had captured one of her AIs was a real problem. And Xen wanted to have this particular problem eliminated.
Much like her boss did.
"Remember, Xen. I want those rebels eliminated in any way you can." Djibril sneered as he leaned back again, and she swore that his attitude was befitting a vampire at this rate. She wouldn't have been too surprised to see him grow fangs and start to sip blood in a wine glass. Just as quickly as the image came though, it was gone. And she gave a perfect bow as she stood up.
"They will be exterminated like the rodents they are, my lord," she said.
Djibril nodded. "Good. And find out if there are more as well."
"I doubt that highly, my lord," Xen stated. "From the looks of things, this particular group is mostly made up of ex-computer engineers and scientists. They have no means to fight back aside from cybernetic warfare. I can only conclude that was how they jacked my AIs."
"That had better be the case, Rear Admiral," Djibril threatened. "Because if it is not, then we will be forced to divert all forces back to the home front for... cleansing... of those race traitors and wide-eyed fools." His sneer morphed into a scowl. "And with the Coordinator menace overhead, we can't afford that."
Xen nodded. "They will be eliminated, as per your orders."
The Lord of Earth nodded before the screen went dark, and Xen turned back to her crews.
"How much longer before we get the virus out?" she asked coldly.
"It's a lot harder than it looks, ma'am," one technician said worriedly. "The virus really burrowed into the AIs. It will require a complete scan of the coding to root it out."
That news was enough to make Xen's eyes narrow dangerously. "We cannot have this virus messing with our AIs. We need them to be at operational capacity, at full capacity. One hundred percent functionality."
"We're working as fast as we can," he told her. "It's not easy though! Things like this take time!"
Xen frowned at this. She knew that the man was right, but then again, her deadline was not to be pushed back. She wanted it to be complete at the deadline. She turned her gaze to the crew as they worked like rats to remove the virus. She scanned the coding, her eyes just mere slits as she picked out the lump of code that was the virus. She didn't know what function it had, but whatever it could do, it would mess up her AIs. And they needed full functionality in all of them, especially in the link that connected them all together in the CyberMind, as she called it.
The CyberMind.
Her best and greatest asset for her Project Iron Legion. Designed to allow the AIs to work in synchronicity with one another, it was meant to give the AIs a tactical link to one another so as to cover all bases. The last thing she wanted was for any of them to get the wrong idea and fall back. She snorted at the idea of the human survival instinct. In all honesty, it was foolish, she felt. Her idea of depriving her AIs of such a thing was based on the Japanese desire for mutilating the Americans back in World War II's final phase.
To merely run away to live to fight another day. She scoffed. Such foolishness.
However, she had no idea that one of her AIs would soon show the value of such an instinct to her...
And it was none of those that she had in development.
. . .
November 19th, CE 73
President Eisenhower sat at the table in her makeshift office, narrowing her eyes as she watched the news play out before her. The news, in lieu of the battle in Vienna, was a stark callback to the dual attacks at Pearl Harbor and San Diego. Those attacks had left the Atlantians reeling, and as a result of the sudden loss in personnel, they had managed to sneak a bunch of their own forces in undercover as replacements for the deceased. That move had not gone well with the rest of the Cabinet, but given the circumstances, it had paid off, for now they had more of an idea of what was going on down in California and Hawaii, along with more people who were on their side.
The other benefit?
The newly appointed commander of the San Diego Naval Base was not in line with this whole war of genocide, and even better, he did not hoard all the good food from his troops. He actually let them have decent meals, and that had bolstered the morale of a lot of surviving soldiers, which went a long way in her eyes. And that had been the breaker for most of them. By giving them meals they could stomach and allowing them to have regular nutrition, they were seen as human beings, not just pawns to be thrown away at a whim. The commander had been more than eager to join up with the rebels upon making contact, and now he was acting as their mole on the West Coast.
Having an entire naval base on their side was a bonus, but it made things a lot trickier, for it meant that they still had to toe the line, but also act in accordance with the rules and regulations of warfare, something that she felt needed to be reinstated after America was reclaimed. The culture of brutality against civilians and journalists would have to be addressed by strict reconditioning, aka Boot Camp 2.0. Slaughtering people all because they were trying to speak out and protest the war was not something she condoned. In fact, it made her sick to her stomach.
She closed her eyes, reflecting back on the battle and the subsequent reactions to it.
October 27th, CE 73
RESISTANCE HEADQUARTERS
"They what?!" Eisenhower's eyes went wide at hearing this from her agents near the bases.
"It's true, ma'am," he said. "The Angel of Ruin, along with the Crimson Demon, struck San Diego Naval Base earlier this morning. A lot of people are dead, and there is a ton of damage."
"I can confirm that as well," the man from Pearl Harbor admitted. "The attackers for our base were the three Gundams from the orbital battle, and three others as well. They looked a lot alike, but they did damage and devastate the base."
"What about the senior leadership?" the President demanded. "Have any of them survived?"
"None," the man replied. "I saw the bodies. They were dead even before making it to their vehicles."
"The only one who survived was the political adjunct, but he's so traumatized he's going to be put into an institution. Keeps rambling on about a mechanical demon," the agent from Pearl Harbor reported. "That kind of suit is something we could use."
The American resistance leader pursed her lips as she pondered this. "No doubt they'll be seeking two new commanders who will be experienced. But we can't have them be assholes like the other two."
"Can you find out who will be put in charge of the bases?" the agent asked.
"I was just thinking that," she remarked, grinning slyly. Then she became serious. "But they need to have no knowledge of us, least of all any connection to us. And that is still a good advantage. Despite our numbers, not very many know of us. So we'll still use this to our advantage."
"All right. Because the last thing we need is to get someone like that last man." The agent grimaced and Eisenhower nodded, knowing what he was referring to.
She looked him in the eyes. "I'll see if my contacts in D.C. can... sway... the appointment of anyone else other than a diehard LOGOs member and supporter. We need experience, but a decent man. Someone who does not buy into that propaganda."
The agents nodded and the screen closed down.
Eisenhower turned away from the screen and glanced back at the map before her, showing the damage as outlined according to the reports.
"Heero Yuy... You sure know how to strike where it hurts," she murmured. "And actually, I have to thank you for providing us with this opportunity to take back these bases, both of which are historical in their own right."
She tented her fingers, taking note of the fact that the damage was limited to facilities vital to the base's operation. The only one that was spared was the hospital, and that was something she was grateful for. Any hospitals spared was a sign that they were not bloodthirsty monsters like the Atlantians were. She wondered if that could be used to their advantage somehow, to try and recondition people back to the proper way to conduct warfare, much like the Allies had done in World War II.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the map critically, as if it were a strategy game board. Her opponent was Lord Djibril, and his pawns were in a messy state of affairs. Her agents lay outside his reach, ready to move in and fill the ranks of the devastated personnel. She could imagine him already angry, ranting at his officers and puppets to get more diehard men into the ranks. But Eisenhower had to admit some of his actions were too predictable. It was kind of sad, but at the same time it was refreshing to know she was one to two steps ahead of the man. It was how he was going to achieve his objectives that kept her on her toes. That was the one thing she did not know.
Eisenhower frowned as she observed this, and in her mind she could hear his voice.
'Dammitall!' he shouted. 'Those fools! Those incompetent dogs! They should be put down for this!'
"Ah... Is that all you see them as?" she asked, causing the image to look at her. "Because such follies will only lead to your demise."
'Says the one who doesn't deserve to be a leader!' Djibril's image shot back.
"I've heard that too many times," she muttered, narrowing her eyes. "And I've never let that stop me."
'You think you can beat me?' Djibril mocked. 'I am the ruler of the world.'
"Yes... but you are still just a man. And very predictable, at that." Eisenhower couldn't help but sneer at his reaction. For a mental image born from her imagination, it was ironically very fitting to him. His face seemed to contort and twist into something resembling disgust, and she chuckled. "You look like you just smelled a skunk."
The image leaned back, reaching out a hand to touch the map. 'Sooner or later, you will fall...' he growled before fading.
She scoffed. "As if you could, Djibril," she muttered.
She finally turned her attention from the map back to her cell phone and she grabbed it, bringing up the encrypted communications app. She had a call to make.
She dialed in the number of one of her contacts in D.C. and the device beeped a few times. The screen flickered before it gave way to show the face of her most valuable asset in D.C.
"Garrod, it's Maria."
"Maria? What's the big idea contacting me now? You want to blow my cover?!" he hissed, looking around nervously.
"Where are you?" she asked seriously.
"I'm currently in a McDonald's, but still..." His voice was nervous as he trailed off.
"That's good. Because I have an assignment for you," the President said.
"What kind of assignment?" Garrod Dozle asked.
"There's been a recent development in the war. The bases at San Diego and Pearl Harbor were attacked recently by the forces from the last war," Eisenhower explained. "They devastated the bases and wiped out the senior leadership, even if inadvertently. That's something we need to take advantage of. Can you get a pair of experienced, but decent men into position at those bases?"
Garrod's eyes went wide as he heard the news. "You're kidding..." he whispered. "The entire leadership at those bases was wiped out?!"
"I'm not kidding," she stated, her eyes narrowing. "And we need to take advantage of this! The more people we have on our side the better, and to have bases like those on our side is essential. It means we can further keep tabs on their logistical support."
Her contact frowned, pondering her words. He did see the need to have more eyes on logistics and support, as well as the possibility of weeding out more diehards from the decent people through this. He finally looked up. "I'll see what I can do," he said. "The usual criteria, right? Experience, no connection to us, and humane?"
She gave a single nod.
"All right. I'll get back to you in a few." Garrod closed the line and she leaned back, her eyes locked onto the map of both bases.
A smirk crossed her face. If this worked, then it would be one step closer to her objective.
. . .
Her eyes narrowed as she pondered her next move.
With the major resistance operations underway, all the major pieces were moving into position.
She turned her attention back to the computer on her desk as it beeped.
The President pressed a few keys and the encrypted communications software kicked in. The screen flashed as the face of one of the relay agents to their European moles came up.
It was Sasha Markov.
"Mrs. Markov? What's going on?" she asked.
"I am sorry to interrupt you, ma'am, but I have some information from my husband," Sasha reported.
"Then spill." Eisenhower tented her fingers as she leaned forward a bit.
"It pertains to the attack on Moscow," she replied. "He relayed to me the layout to begin with. He also got back to me on the number of suits being involved after talking to one of our other moles. Now, I'm not sure if these are accurate assessments, but it is as close as we can get. There could be more, or there could be less mobile suits than I have listed here."
"Fair enough. Best to prepare for the worst, but hope for the best." Eisenhower nodded. "So, what are we looking at?"
"There are at least two Hannibal-class battleships in the attack force. As for how many there actually are, that's an unknown," Sasha relayed. "That means that there will be at least two Destroys, based on the battles in Berlin and Vienna. The main forces will be composed of Windams outfitted with a variety of Striker packs, primarily the Jet and Aile Strikers. Grognards - those brutish mobile suits - will be leading the attackers."
"What about numbers?" Eisenhower asked.
"We're looking into that even as we speak," Sasha noted, looking down at the list on the table on her end. "The conventional forces are going to be heavily armed as well."
"What about the conventional forces? How many are we looking there?" the President pressed.
"As large as any other army attacking Russia in the past," the Russian-born woman stated. "I can only say that much on the matter."
The President pursed her lips. "I see. Anything else?"
"Nothing at the moment," Sasha said with a shake of her head. "But whatever information we have, it needs to be passed on as soon as possible to Terminal."
"I know. And I have a plan suggested in the works as well," Eisenhower said. "I just hope Terminal will take advantage of it."
Sasha nodded. "I'll let you know more information as soon as we are able to get it."
The President returned the nod before she cut the communications.
. . .
Lord Djibril's Mansion
The self-proclaimed Lord of Earth scowled as he observed the recent intervention of Terminal.
He had been thwarted, and by the Eurasians no less.
He wasn't sure how, but they had managed to get information on the attack to Terminal, and thus saved Vienna.
That would not do, he knew.
He wanted to make a showing of how futile it was to resist him, the Lord of Earth.
Lord Djibril leaned forward at his desk, tenting his fingers in front of his mouth. 'So, Terminal has some allies in Eurasia, hm? Well, that just won't do,' he thought. 'This was to show the futility of resisting my will. But somehow Terminal is stopping me at every turn. First Berlin, now Vienna. And it makes me furious!'
The entire invasion was proceeding as planned, but with Terminal having thrown a wrench into his plans, it was not looking good.
He turned his attention back to the images showing the activity at home on the home front, and he sneered. "It's only a matter of time," he mused aloud, "before this world belongs to me."
Even if Vienna was a setback, the real offensive in Moscow was set to begin in three days' time. He could already imagine the carnage, as well as the subsequent groveling of the inferiors who dared to stand up to him. No doubt they would be begging to spare their lives, he mused with a chuckle. And while he was willing to spare them, he was not about to let them have the same leeway they currently had. If all went accordingly, then the Eurasian Federation was to be his next vassal, and after some months had passed, he could rig the elections and put more suitable puppets into power there.
Lord Djibril shifted as he heard the beeping of the terminal at his desk.
He shut off the news feed and activated the terminal's communications line.
It was Nazara.
"Ah. Colonel. I assume that you saw the news," Lord Djibril mused.
"How could I not?" the colonel snarked. "I was wondering what your next objective was for me."
"It's quite obvious, Colonel," the Lord of Earth noted. "You'll be heading off to Moscow to seal their fate."
The colonel's face curled into a sneer and, Djibril had to admit he did look much like a barbarian warrior of old with those scars going down the middle of his face.
"Something I aim to enjoy, my lord," he purred.
"Speaking of, how are things looking on that front?" Djibril asked.
"Our forces are preparing for the next deployment. If we keep moving at this rate, we will hit the city before next month... and take it before the Russian winter sets in."
Djibril understood where his subordinate was coming from. His eyes narrowed as he recalled past wars in which Russia had used its winters to great effect. The last one had been during the Reconstruction War, and even then it had been only by the figurative skin of their figurative teeth. But even so, it was still a thing to be considering. That was why he had made sure the invasion force was equipped with the Destroys: to finish the war before the Russian winter.
"Yes. And I assume you're prepared for that one?" Djibril intoned, tilting his head to the side a bit.
Colonel Nazara nodded. "If Heero Yuy shows up, he will be the first to fall." His sneer turned into a dark grin, and his eyes hardened. "Especially since he won't be able to handle multiple Destroys at once."
For once, Lord Djibril felt a smirk cross his face as he leaned back, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Yes. A very sound plan indeed. Overwhelm him with sheer firepower... and even the Demon shall fall."
Colonel Nazara however was silent before he grew serious. "If he does manage to take them down, though, it will be at great cost to him and his machine. Then I will finish him. Unlike the last times I failed."
Djibril scowled at the promise, but he understood his subordinate's words well enough. "Yes, that is true. Just make sure you do not fail this time, Colonel. If you do... I am starting to feel my patience run thin with you."
The colonel managed to keep a straight face as he listened. "As it is, we have no intention of letting Moscow live through this winter intact. So if the city holds... that will be a big blow to our pride and objectives. And that... we cannot afford."
"I understand, my lord. And you have the Extended I requested?"
The head of LOGOs was feeling a bit irritated at having to replace so many Extended under the colonel's command, but at this stage of the game, he realized they had no choice. And with the loss of many of the labs over the course of the two year interval dedicated to rebuilding the Atlantic Federation armed forces into their image, it was getting harder and harder to field the Extended. But with the next generation coming out of the Los Alamos lab, it was just as well.
"Yes. You'll have them. They will be shipped over in the next few days," he said.
The third generation Extended were not so much humans as they were equipment now. They were more or less meant to fit into the mobile suit and be literally wired into it via their pilot suits. They acted as an extension of the machine, and they had no sense of self-preservation. It was the ultimate soldier they had been hoping for. And it also made him feel a sick sense of glee when he saw their names appearing on the monitor.
The first one was a boy with bright purple hair and blue eyes that reflected the intense mental alterations done to him, showing nothing but glazed pupils. The designation was EX3-07619.
The second was a girl with hair a shocking yellow, and her eyes were a glazed blood red color, while reflecting an intensity for war that made her a perfect specimen. She, like the boy, was referred to only as EX3-07821.
Unlike the original Second Generation Extended, these two required their block words to be said in order to trigger their combat capabilities. It was not meant to trigger preprogrammed behaviors, but instead to release them for battle. The refinement of the Extended had come a long way, and with Los Alamos at the forefront, it was a good stopgap until a new lab could be built underground in a new country.
The man chuckled as he forwarded the information.
Colonel Nazara grinned. "Excellent... I must admit that Los Alamos has really stepped up for the third generation."
"All it took was a little prodding. These two are the top specimens. A few more will be shipped out as well, and you will receive their information in the coming days," Djibril said.
"Oh? I thought I would only get two," Nazara remarked.
"Not this time. You will be needing all of them to man the Destroys," Djibril noted. "So, I hope you do not lose these prototypes."
Colonel Nazara bowed his head. "I will do my utmost to keep these Extended alive, my lord."
Djibril nodded, knowing of his subordinate's tendency to lose Extended. "However, if you do keep them alive for the doctors to study, I will ensure you will be given something else to assist in your efforts to wipe out Heero Yuy," Djibril stated, dangling some bait before his subordinate.
That got the colonel. "What do you have for me?" he asked.
Djibril sneered. "You'll see... provided you keep at least one specimen of this new generation alive, Colonel."
The colonel nodded and bowed. "As you wish, my lord."
With that taken care of, Djibril closed down the communications system and turned to look out the window of his estate.
The sun was starting to become dim as clouds rolled in. Djibril frowned.
A storm was coming in... and it did not look like it was a minor one, either.
. . .
Archangel, France, Eurasian Federation
The major shifted in her seat on the bridge of the White Legend as she waited for the signal to go through.
It had been a hassle over the last day and a half after the battle in Vienna to try and get through the jamming set up by the Atlantians, but after much effort and wrangling on the parts of the tech crews and mechanics, the signal went through.
And it was just as well.
The screen flickered as she heard static and screeching in the background before the voice of her superior came through.
"Major Gardinier?" The general's voice was a bit surprised, but at the same time relief was present in his tone.
"Oui." She gave a salute as his image appeared on the screen.
A smile was present on his features as he nodded. "Excellent work, Major. That was some timely maneuvering on our part."
"Yes, it was. But..." Here the major's eyes hardened. "Now comes the difficult part."
"Ah. The intel. Right." The general's eyes narrowed. "You informed me about the hesitation to trust the Americans, and well... I just happen to have my friend here with me."
Bruce Gray stepped into the picture, his face a bit haggard and stubble growing on his chin. He didn't look that much worse for the wear, but he did look like he needed a bit of cleaning and a shave. "I'm not surprised to hear that news," the first lieutenant reported. "But I can't blame 'em for it."
"That is true," Major Gardinier noted. "So, how is the intelligence coming along?"
"It's still a work in progress, unfortunately, but we do have a vague idea of what is happening near Moscow," the resistance liaison stated. "It's not much, but it is a start. We should have more in the coming days, if not hours. Our boys over here are working hard to ensure that we get as much intel as possible to pass on to Terminal. And we have a possible battle plan for them as well."
The major narrowed her eyes. "You are serious?" she asked.
Bruce nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he confirmed. "The President has asked that this plan be relayed to Terminal, because as it stands, it will force them to split their forces off from the mobile suits. Hang on. It's coming shortly."
The screen flashed once and the major hit the button as an envelope icon started to flash.
The map and subsequent battle plan appeared on the screen as the general's face and that of the first lieutenant shrank to the opposite sides of the screen in the corners. The major's eyes widened as she studied the plan. It depicted a large, U-shaped trench, with the ends of the trench encompassing the city's outskirts. Dark purple arrows were shown curving around, following the line of the trench to the flanks of the city, while several large dark purple dots were depicted in the middle of the arrows splitting off. In the middle of the empty space in between the trench's 'legs', were several blue dots and a bunch of smaller ones.
The major quickly and correctly deduced that the dark purple dots represented the land battleships and Destroys, while the arrows represented the conventional troops. The blue dots, she quickly figured, had to be Terminal and their machines, while the Eurasian forces were shown in a lighter shade of blue.
"I see..." she mused. "A sound plan, if not for the fact that we have to ensure that this gets to the Eurasian High Command quickly."
"Yeah. We've got no idea on the number of mobile suits being fielded yet, but this is the basic plan," Bruce stated. "It should work in theory, but given how we lack an accurate number of the land battleships and Destroys, it could go to the shitter if we don't plan accordingly."
Major Gardinier merely nodded. "Right. Still, it is better than nothing at the moment. So, from what I am seeing, you are sure there will be at least two land battleships and their Destroys, yes?"
"That's the gist of it," Bruce remarked. "We also have a good assessment of the number of Grognards - those mass produced brute suits - to boot."
"How many?" Major Gardinier inquired.
"At least fifty. But that's a rough guestimate," the resistance liaison explained. "I'm not sure if our guys up there will have the information on the rest of the units in time, but it is something."
"Yes. And it provides us with more information. Vienna had one to attack, as did Berlin. Which makes me think they intend to destroy Moscow utterly." Major Gardinier's eyes narrowed into slits. "And we have to ensure it stands."
"That's part of the reason I was sent here to begin with," Bruce admitted. "To try and delay the invasion as long as possible. We're also seeking out a rebel unit that broke off from the rest of the attacking force in Berlin and went south."
"Hold on. Are you serious?!" the major exclaimed, eyes wide.
"I'm not joking," Bruce stated. "The general wants to find them and have them reinforce the defense of Paris. If that can be done, then we'll have a serious edge. The President is already coming up with plans for them. We need you to keep an eye on the news for anything regarding them and inform us at once."
"That I can do," Sibylle said.
General Neuville took the chance to speak again at that moment. "You have done well, Major," he informed. "I cannot thank you for what you have done."
She gave a salute before Bruce cut in again. "We'll be in contact in six hours. If we don't have the intel by then, we'll let you know."
With that, the communications shut down and she sighed. One part of her job was over.
The next part was about to begin, and it was a lot harder than this had been.
. . .
"I see..."
President Eisenhower narrowed her eyes as she looked at her liaison. "So Heero isn't willing to trust us given what those damned Atlantians did to them during the wars."
"That's right, ma'am," Bruce reported.
"Not too surprising. I always knew it would be difficult," she muttered.
"However, if we can provide a somewhat accurate assessment of the invasion forces arrayed around Moscow, we could show some of our capabilities to Terminal, right?" Bruce asked a bit desperately.
"Trust me, I know how you feel. But Heero does have a point, and I am willing to work to earn that trust," Eisenhower stated. She leaned forward a bit, her hands tenting in front of her mouth. "We can't just rush this. It is a delicate situation, after all."
"So... how long do you think it will take," Bruce wondered, "to earn their trust?"
Here the resistance leader sighed. "I can't say for sure, but if we give them concise, and accurate, intel, it could be within a month or two."
"At minimum?" her liaison asked.
She gave a firm nod. "Yes. At minimum. But... if all goes well, it may be sooner than we think."
Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. I did give them the plan though. I hope that does suffice enough for this... or at least allows for Terminal to have the high ground, so to speak."
"It will," Eisenhower stated. "We ran it over numerous times in simulations before transmitting it to you."
"Simulations can only tell so much though," Bruce reminded.
"Yes. But this will work. I'm sure of it." Eisenhower's eyes glittered dangerously as she leaned forward a bit more. "Stay alert for the intel when it comes in, First Lieutenant. This is our best bet to get through to them and show our cause is aligned with theirs: to defeat LOGOs."
"What about reclaiming our country?" Bruce asked.
"That's part of the goal to defeat LOGOs. By taking America, Canada, Mexico, Ireland, and Great Britain back, we can pull them out of the war. And that leaves LOGOs with none of the equipment, industry, and manpower to wage a genocidal war over something as petty as how someone was born," Eisenhower reminded him. "It would strip them of their key asset, and that is our way to bring them down to a minor terrorist group."
The liaison nodded, remembering what he signed up for.
"I assume you want be to remain on standby then?" Bruce asked.
She nodded. "Yes. Do not do anything stupid, and continue to rally support behind the lines. And find that rebel unit. They have to be there for Paris. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Bruce gave a crisp salute before he cut the line.
With that done, Eisenhower got up from her desk and made her way out of the office she was using as her private study. She stepped out onto the catwalk and looked out over the warehouse, taking in the capsules of the deceased children, lined up like some macabre display of human trophies. It was enough to make her clench her fists on the railings, leaving imprints of the metal on her palms.
What she had said to Bruce had been correct: she had been expecting it to be difficult. She knew Heero's reputation and she did not want to risk incurring his wrath, least of all when things were moving in their favor on the home front. This was the most difficult move of her entire career, least of all in her life. She knew next to nothing about the man himself, aside from his reputation, and the fact that it was hard to even earn his trust. But she was determined to damn well prove her organization was real and a credible asset.
The only downside was he could see it as a trap. But she was not going to give up without a fight.
After all, this was going to throw Djibril's plans out the window big time if they accepted the plan and followed through with it, or adjusted it to however they saw fit. But if they didn't accept her plan, then at least the city would still be saved if Terminal took the intel seriously. That was the main objective: to save Moscow and keep the city intact.
Eisenhower was no stranger to difficult tasks. But those had been mostly military, and did not involve political maneuvering with a man who had wiped out Murata Azrael with his bare hands. But then again, she wasn't known for giving up. Just like in the Marines, she was willing to bide her time and work to earn trust. It had taken her three years to build the resistance movement into what it was, and even now it was still growing. She was a skilled politician, so she knew the value of earning and retaining trust. And right now, if things went well, it would be the first step in rebuilding the United Nations. She knew Terminal was a good group, and they would be the basis from which the new UN would be built.
Or so she hoped.
It all hinged on whether or not she could earn Heero's trust.
And she was going to do whatever it took, one way or another.
. . .
Eastern Front, Russia
"You're serious?!" one of the technicians exclaimed in a whisper. "You want us to do that?!"
"Yes," came the voice of Rostislav Markov. "We cannot allow the city's hospitals to be wiped out."
"But that would also mean messing with the Destroys' targeting systems, and those things are hard to get near," the technician muttered lowly.
"All the more reason to do so then," Markov insisted. "The trick here is to ensure that while the hospitals remain intact, the machines and their pilots still cause damage, but only to the buildings around the hospitals. This way they can still be attacking, but leave those vital services alone. We couldn't exactly do it at Vienna, but at Moscow, we can."
The technician bit his lower lip nervously. It was a dangerous call to make, but then again, given what was at stake, it made sense they'd have to keep the hospitals safe at all costs. They didn't want a repeat of Berlin, especially now. His eyes darted about before landing on the huge Destroy in its 'capsule', so to speak. The machine was almost finished undergoing final checks and preparations for the coming slaughter, and the mere idea of wounded, sick, and dying, as well as newborn babies, being massacred was enough to make him sick to his stomach.
The man swallowed his own bile and grimaced at the taste.
He finally sighed. "I...I'll see what we can do," he admitted. "I can't guarantee we'll get them all in time, but we can do our best."
"Just do it. The sooner the better," Markov insisted, pleading visible in his voice.
"We'll start with the Destroys," the technician stated. "That way they can't use those monstrosities on the helpless."
Markov let out a sigh of relief at that. "Thank you, comrade... this means much to me..."
"Don't thank me yet," the technician cautioned. "Thank me once the city's hospitals are intact."
The general gave a nod. "I wish you the best of luck, comrade. Godspeed."
The phone on the other end clicked and the technician put his phone back into his pocket as he turned to the other men who were huddling into a group.
He hurried over to the cluster of men.
"What did he say?" one of them asked.
"It's a go," the technician reported.
"Good timing, Jerry," a second man replied.
Jerry Williams gave a nod. "Operation: Shield Medic is now in operation. Spread out and get to work. I'll handle the Destroy."
"But it's still undergoing maintenance," a third technician noted worriedly.
"Not for much longer," Jerry stated, glancing up.
Sure enough, the dedicated staff responsible for its checks and resupply were finished, heading off as they talked about what they'd do after the attack on Moscow. The assembled technicians went about their business, examining the equipment needed for the other machines aboard the land battleship Marauder, the flagship for the attack force aiming for Moscow.
Within fifteen minutes, the hangar bay was empty, and the group fanned out, each heading for their designated machine to sabotage the targeting systems.
Jerry ran right for the Destroy, slithering up through the catwalks and making his way to the cockpit hatch.
The hatch was closed, but he knew how to open it.
It took a few minutes, but after some fiddling with the wires, he managed to get the cockpit hatch to hiss open. The man peered inside and a shiver raced through him at the thought of this thing being used to slaughter hundreds. He slipped into the seat and reached into his pocket before pulling out a pair of gloves. Quickly working, he brought the suit's operating system online. It wasn't a full startup, just enough to access the system. Jerry brought up the targeting systems.
His eyes narrowed as he went to work.
Having been in Moscow for his mechanical engineering education, he knew where all the hospitals were in the city. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed in the names and marked it as an essential service, labeling it as forbidden. Then he brought up the main override code and selected to change it.
The Destroy was outfitted with an override command for the targeting system that the pilot could use if the targeting system was suffering a software glitch. But at this moment, that was what he needed in order to make the hospitals a completely forbidden target. He put in a new code and confirmed it. Then he nodded and shut down the OS before evacuating the Destroy.
It took only fifteen minutes to finish the task at hand. Once that was done, he closed the cockpit hatch and latched it shut. Jerry removed the gloves and put them in his pocket before turning to look at where the others were doing their work.
He could already see that two were climbing out of the cockpits of the Grognards and he smiled. The others were just about finished, as well.
That was phase one complete.
Now, onto phase two.
Jerry pulled out his phone and dialed the number of a few others who were in the loop. The three men in question were aboard the other land battleships, and they were to be the ones to target the other Destroys, removing the hospitals as targets and ensuring they were kept safe.
The screen flickered before the images of the others appeared.
"Jerry? What gives, bro?" one of the men hissed.
"Operation Shield Medic is a go," he stated simply. "You know what you have to do, guys."
"Oh... That's the plan to sabotage the targeting systems of the Destroys, right?" a second man with grey hair and blue eyes asked.
Jerry nodded. "Yes. You have to get this done before the attack begins."
The third man had his lips pursed as he glanced back at the Destroy aboard the Hollow. "I'll see what I can do from my end, but this thing is heavily guarded," he muttered. "I don't know if I can even get close right now."
"As long as it's done, I don't care!" Jerry hissed. "Please!"
The third man sighed. "All right. I could always say that the targeting system has to be tweaked a bit."
"Whatever excuse you need," Jerry stated, clearly getting a bit impatient. "Just get it done!"
He nodded. "Understood."
"Hey, chill out, bro," the first man stated, reassuring his friend. "We've got this. And besides..." His eyes glinted and Jerry swore he saw the gears turning in his head as a sneaky grin crossed his face. "Let's just say that if they go for the biggest hospital in the city... well, then there will be an even bigger target in their sights!"
"What target are you referring to?" Jerry asked.
"Just trust me. Once the attack happens, there will be a real robot rumble!" the man giggled. "Not gonna say more."
Whatever he was planning, Jerry figured, would hopefully give Terminal time to secure the city's front and take out the Destroys and attacking Grognards.
"Good. That should be of use to us," Jerry muttered. "Speaking of, you three have the intel?"
"You mean the numbers?" the second man wondered.
The technician nodded.
"Oh boy... Well, we have a rough estimate, but it's kind of cutting it close," he admitted. "The numbers are only guestimates based on the suits we have in the land battleships. So it's not as accurate as we'd like."
"Just tell me," Jerry insisted.
"Okay. Collectively, we were able to get - at a best guess - around 250 to 300 mobile suits in total. Of course, there could be more or less, depending on things," the third man stated. "For the Grognards, we have at least fifty at best. For the Windams, there's about 200 from what we can see. So, it's not as much as we'd like."
"Better than nothing, at least," Jerry noted.
"Yeah. We took a big risk to even get that much info," the first man remarked.
Jerry nodded. "That's still good work. Now you know what you have to do, guys. And please hurry."
The three men cut the lines, each one going to do their work.
Now that phase two was under way, Jerry could relax. Well, maybe not entirely, but he at least did feel a bit of the anxiety ease up.
All that mattered now was getting the intel back to the President.
. . .
RESISTANCE HEADQUARTERS
President Eisenhower pursed her lips as she observed the latest reports sent from her agents abroad.
The intel was sound, she could see. Based on what there was in the land battleships, of course.
But her intuition was telling her to be on high alert, because the numbers could be less or more than what was reported. Her eyes narrowed as she pondered the possibility.
She closed her eyes, lowering her head in thought.
'So far so good. Based on what we got from our spies in that area, there could be more or less machines used by the Atlantians. So we're going to have to inform Terminal of that possibility as well,' she thought to herself. She opened her eyes, revealing them to be as hard as ice. 'This is not looking good at any rate. The fact that there are at least two land battleships is bad news indeed. This means they intend to burn Moscow to the ground. Just like Hitler intended during World War II, and just like happened during the First Bloody Valentine when Patrick Zala wanted to burn the world. If that happens, then Eurasia will be just another vassal to Lord Djibril.'
She glanced to the image of the man hanging on the wall, his garish yellow tunic standing out and clashing with his grey hair and purple lipstick. He seemed to be sneering at her, and she scowled. She raised one finger, as if it were a gun, and jerked it back, as if firing a bullet. "Bang."
Oh, how she wished she could kill the man herself.
But as it stood, her job was right now to reclaim America and their allies from LOGOs. And she was willing to do so, but when the time came for the assault to commence, she would be fighting on the front lines with her troops.
She lowered her hand and turned as she heard the door to her office open.
"Ma'am?" the aide asked. "You called?"
"Yes," she said.
The President grasped the report and stood up, walking over to the surprised young man. "Here's the intel that was just gathered pertaining to the invasion force for Moscow. I need you to relay this information to our liaison for the Eurasians, and they can send it to Terminal. It's imperative they receive this as soon as possible."
"Ah, right. I assume you want this done as soon as we're done here?" the aide asked.
Marie nodded. "Yes. Also, I want you to inform our liaison of the possibility for more machines than is listed here, and to be prepared for that eventuality. I'm not sure if it's true, but if it is, then we'll have at least given them a heads up."
"Yes, ma'am!" he replied, saluting crisply.
With that done, Eisenhower turned back to her desk as the man left.
Now she could delve into a little project of her own.
It wasn't a weapon, let alone the investigations into Reaper or the unknown assassins. Oh, no. It was dealing with Azrael.
More specifically, connections into the business industry pertaining to the Seiran House of Orb.
Eisenhower pursed her lips as she tented her fingers. The recent raid on his house conducted by some rebel fighters had led to an interesting discovery, more specifically the computers he had used. The computers had held a treasure trove of data related to communications between Unato and Yuna Seiran and Azrael. The only downside was that they had covered their tracks a little too well. This led her to suspect that they had had help in erasing all data pertaining to communications. It wasn't that hard to guess that the computer programmer or programmers responsible for that had been paid outrageous amounts of money to do that good of a job.
But that also brought to the fore another possibility.
That perhaps they were being blackmailed somehow.
Her eyes hardened as she grasped her phone and dialed another number, this time with one of her men in the business area.
The man answered after the first ring.
"Ah! Madame President!" he exclaimed as his image appeared on her phone's screen.
"Good to see you too, Frank," she remarked. "Actually, I hope I didn't call at a bad time."
"Oh, no. You're good," he told her. "I just finished a meeting with the board of directors, by the way."
"All right. That's good then. Because there's something I need to ask you to look into," President Eisenhower said. "It's got to do with a recent raid that took place on the late Murata Azrael's mansion. Our fighters were able to slip inside after dispatching the guards, which led me to think that there was a reason it was guarded." Her eyes narrowed. "And I was right."
"What did they find?" Frank Wilson asked.
"They found several computers that had to do with communications between Unato and Yuna Seiran," Eisenhower explained. "This was something that got me suspicious to begin with, especially considering that there was a lack of data on some of them. Only one contained enough information to connect them to the massacre of refugees in Elysium Colony." Her eyes shifted into icy glaciers. "And that is something that we cannot condone."
"Ah. I remember hearing about that from one of my employees," Frank noted. "I actually had to excuse myself so I could throw up in the bathroom."
"Yeah. I suspect that Azrael and the Seiran House were involved somehow. But with a lot of the data missing, it's only a guess at this point. I'm not sure if you can figure out how they are connected in the business world, but if they are, I want that intel," Eisenhower stated. "And if you know anyone who can dig up that missing data, that would be of a huge benefit."
Frank took in a breath and let it out through his nose. "Oh boy... you got a big task for me, don't you?"
"Can you do it?" Eisenhower asked.
"It's not a question if I can do it or not. I can do it, it's just there's a risk when it comes to this. As it stands, most business leaders are behind LOGOs, and they are all the big name players, save for Ben who you managed to recruit," Frank explained. "It's all about discretion, and right now, a lot of people are trying just to keep their jobs while the bigwigs get wealthier. I'm just lucky enough my position is secure for the moment."
"So it can be done, but it's risky, right?" the President wondered.
Frank nodded once. He ran a hand through his red hair as his grey eyes hardened. "It's just a matter of how I do it. And as for whether or not I know someone to dig up the missing data, well... it can be done, but we have to go through illegal channels to get it. And that can lead to risks in of itself," he told her.
Eisenhower knew what he meant. In the criminal underworld, there was always a risk of something going wrong, or a double cross. Frank, though, was a well connected man, which was why he was her contact in the business world. He knew everyone who was connected to LOGOs, and he played enough to have an expert poker face. Through the political games of business, he was able to gather enough intel to pass onto her in regards to the galas and whatnot, as well as the working conditions of those in factories.
"I understand," she stated. "But right now, we need to start digging into their connections to the Azrael Conglomerate."
"I'll see what I can find. Any intel I'll send to you via courier." Frank glanced at his watch. "I have to go. There's a meeting I have to attend."
"All right. I'll be expecting the information as soon as you compile it." Eisenhower gave a nod and Frank nodded back before he hung up.
With that finished, Eisenhower leaned back, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully.
"House Seiran... I'm sure you had something to do with the slaughter at Elysium..." she muttered. "If that is the case..." Beneath her tented fingers, her lips curled into a sneer. "...you'll be answering to the Demon Lord of Avalon himself."
She finally glanced to the clock, noticing that it was getting late.
Some shuteye was definitely in order.
After all, even the leader of the resistance was only human.
. . .
Eurasian Federation
Eastern Front
To say that Rositslav Markov was nervous was an understatement.
After all, requesting a reassignment in the middle of an invasion was not something that was often done.
But given the upcoming battle, it made sense he'd want to get out of dodge as soon as possible.
And thankfully, Nazara was able to meet with him.
"I see. You seek to be transferred to a rear line assignment, right?" the colonel asked.
Markov nodded. "Yes, sir."
"And, may I ask, why?" Nazara questioned.
"It's just that given the fight against the Demon Lord of Avalon has really given me pause. I'm not about to risk myself against him, Colonel," Markov said. "After all, I'm one of your best generals. And you do wish to preserve my capabilities, do you not?"
The colonel's eyes narrowed as he considered his statement.
It was true that the man was one of his best generals, he knew. After all, his plans had been perfect up to this point. And he was not about to let such a valuable pawn be eliminated. His plans had gotten them this far, and it was he whom had planned the leadup to Berlin's attack. Plus, with the current resistance forming in France, it made sense that they'd need someone behind the front to wrap up the conquest of the region. Plus, if things were going to go south, it would also mean that the general would be out of the line of fire.
Nazara finally nodded. "I see where you are coming from, General," he remarked. "And the conquest of France is becoming something of a chore, given their resistance forming down there. So I am going to transfer you to the area. All forces will be under your command. You are to wipe out any remaining resistance and take Paris by any means necessary."
The emphasis on any was clear.
To take the city through brute force.
Markov mentally grimaced, keeping a straight face as he nodded.
Plus, this would be a big blow to the AF's conquest of the country.
It was also a big benefit to the resistance back in the States, and not just because it gave him control of all Atlantian forces.
It gave him authority to terminate the slaughter.
"I understand, Colonel," Markov stated.
"We will be stopping for the night, anyway," Nazara explained. "We need to allow our infantry to rest up for the big attack anyway."
Markov knew what he meant by that. He gave a salute in response. "Yes, sir."
The colonel gave a wry smirk as he looked over to where the Destroy was being maintained. "I could transfer a Destroy with you to make it easier for you."
"No. I prefer to do it on my own," Markov stated firmly. "These things must be retained for the attack."
Although some part of him wished to take one, he did not want to arouse the ire of the French people, especially since he was actively allied with the resistance and working on their behalf to try and save people from those things. For his part, Colonel Nazara understood his subordinate's decision. He did need all of them for the major assault on Moscow.
So he nodded. "Yes. You are right," he mused. "You will be deployed once we stop. I expect nothing but success."
Markov nodded, bowing his head.
. . .
Archangel, France, Eurasian Federation
The major was half asleep when she was called to the bridge.
Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Major Gardinier hurried to the bridge, still dressed in her uniform.
She ran a hand through her hair as she entered the room.
One of her staff was sitting at the console she was using to communicate with her superior and his contact, and the two men were already shown on the monitor.
"Major. We just got the intel."
That was all Bruce said as the major ran to her seat as the staff member got out of the chair. "What did you just say?" she asked.
"You heard me." Bruce was serious as he directed his gaze to her. "We have the intel."
"On the invasion force?" the major asked in shock.
The liaison nodded. "Affirmative. We're sending it now."
The information flashed on the screen and her eyes widened as she stared at it.
The numbers were clear.
At least two land battleships, which meant at least two Destroys. At least fifty Grognards. 200 Windams with assorted Striker Packs, primarily Aile and Jet Striker loadouts. And heavy conventional forces.
"That's the best we could get, given the circumstances," Bruce admitted. "The spies in that attack force couldn't get anything more."
"Are these numbers accurate?" Major Gardinier asked.
"They are, but this is just a guestimate. The President wanted me to relay to you that there could be a possibility for more units than what we have listed. So you have to be prepared for the worst in that scenario," Bruce told her.
She looked to General Neuville who only nodded. "It is important you get this to Terminal soon."
"I intend to!" the major remarked confidently.
"Good. The sooner the better." The brigadier general was serious as he spoke. "Speaking of, have you heard anything about that rebel unit that fled?"
"Nothing yet, sir," she admitted. "But if I do, I will inform you at once."
"Good. Let them know as soon as you are able to."
The major gave a crisp salute. "Yes, sir!"
With that, the brigadier general's gaze softened and a smile crossed his face. "Thank you," he murmured.
The screen went dark and the major turned to face the captain's XO. "Get me the captain and Heero," she said. "I have critical intel that needs to be relayed to them as soon as possible!"