Hey, peeps~! Here's the next chapter of The Phoenix Rising. And this one is going to detail some really interesting tidbits for you. :3
Review replies:
- operation meteor: I am so happy you liked that finish! XD I wanted to show that the resistance is willing to use whatever means they had at their disposal, and that included the base collapsing. They're determined to win, that's for sure. :3
- Spiceracksargent001: I thought you'd get a kick out of it! XD Yes, Keith and Ibarra do get some credit, and that will be shown after the war. ;3 The base collapsing was indeed necessary to truly damage those monstrosities, as even with their mobile suits it would take a long time to damage one of those things. Only thanks to Turbine and Marcus taking out the shields did they have an edge though. So it was a pyrrhic victory for Xen. And yep! XD Turbine did indeed prove himself. ;3
(A pair of optics flashes online before lights flare on to show the Strike Dagger S in its hangar bay, Spray standing atop its shoulder with an American flag held in one hand, his trench coat draped across his shoulders like a cape)
START MIKAKUNIN HIKOUSEN BY TAKAYOSHI TANIMOTO
(The pilot tosses the American flag off to the side as he leaps off his machine's shoulder, the camera following the flag as it flutters down to the hangar floor)
Oh yeah! Be strong, jump on, and become the wind (The camera moves up to show the Strike Dagger S engaged with the Perfect Sword Strike, both pilots superimposed over their machines as their blades clash)
Pass the orbit beyond the sky (The two break off before flying towards one another again, Spray shown with Earth in the background, his eyes in SEED Mode as he grits his teeth)
I can't hold back this rushing speed (Dennis Krantz is shown with a large, shadowy shape in the background as he charges in, his eyes wide in his fury)
A familiar town becomes a diorama (The camera follows both pilots as they clash in a flash of light, the camera panning down to show the Resistance base in Mexico, Dr. Keith Martinez and Commander Ibara standing before it)
Burst through the unclear skies (The skies are shown to be covered in clouds as the camera pans up and over, coming down to show Rear Admiral Dorana Xen as she stands in a land battleship, arms crossed, a large army of AI-controlled suits before her)
Blow away your worries and discontent (The rear admiral sneers as she watches the resistance fighting bravely, but unable to do much to stop her, only for a flash of a beam saber to cut across the screen)
Who needs a journey that's by the book? (The camera pans to the right to show a gray-colored mobile suit as it spins around, glowing blue optics locking onto Xen's eyes)
Even if you're lost or trembling, raise the altitude (The machine climbs up, becoming a small speck in the sky, only for a second machine to come down, showing it to be the Demolition Dagger as it lands in front of Paris, looking up as the camera shows Kyle behind it)
Oh yeah! Show off, mess up, and stand back up (The Demolition Dagger attacks the closest Atlantian Daggers before the camera is blinded by thick black smoke, only to fade to show Wing Zero stand up in the middle of a damaged naval base)
I'll watch the unknown horizon with you (The camera is engulfed in flames before they blow apart to show Eisenhower standing atop the warehouse, three other figures standing behind her as the sun sets before her)
Now be strong, jump on, and become the wind (The camera moves to the right as it shows Eisenhower leaping off the building, a pair of mechanical phoenix wings sprouting from her back)
Use the sun that lights tomorrow as a guide (Above her is shown Spray Krane in his own machine, reaching out for the light of the sun as it shines above a new, futuristic city)
Fly off to the glorious world of freedom! (The scene freezes with all the major players flying towards a shining world, stars around all of them)
GUNDAM WING: THE PHOENIX RISING
Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall
- Steven Jackson 'Spray' Krane
CHAPTER XVII: Mendel's Secrets
L4 Colonies
Mendel
December 3rd, CE 0073
The darkness of space was perfect.
The single ship drifted away from the L4 colonies, its engines putting out the barest amount of thrust for something so massive. And it was just as well, since these were ships that had been supposedly destroyed in the Battle of Armageddon.
The ship was painted in dark midnight, enough to blend in with the surrounding space, as well as a few lights dotting its exterior, only adding to the illusion that nothing was there. And when coupled with some extra plates of metal welded on, it looked as if space debris was floating past. A very sound move, and one that the crew had taken from the resistance base up in L4.
The old colonies left behind by the Battle of Nova proved to be a perfect breeding ground for the rebels, as well as a large contingent of former ZAFT soldiers turned pirates, now turned guardians of neutral refugees.
At the helm of the ship, named the Garrod, stood one of the commanders of the growing L4 Coalition Navy, Hubert Longston. A man in his early forties, he was a former ZAFT White Coat, having commanded a small fleet in the organization's growing space force. He was a First-Generation Coordinator, and despite having backed the initial war against the Naturals, after seeing how low the previous administration had gone when it came to wiping out other humans, he became disillusioned with the war and took his fleet, defecting as soon as he could before the fighting reached him. Sometimes he often wondered if he did the right thing, but deep inside he knew he had.
His hat covered his bright blue hair and his grey eyes were as cool as the stone they were carved from. His entire face was clean shaven, and he had a nasty burn scar on the lower left corner of his chin, a reminder from one of his previous commands when it was struck by EA forces during the Battle of Nova. He had been involved in that furball, and it was not one of his most inspiring moments, he felt, as his hand drifted to the burn scar. His powerful build was barely hidden by the white uniform he wore.
Unlike the ZAFT space fleet which used color to determine rank, the L4 Coalition forces used actual ranks to distinguish their soldiers from one another. Only ship captains were allowed to wear white, to signify their status as officers. It had been the sole concession for the L4 Coalition to align with the resistance. And actually, it made sense, he figured. In the past, captains had worn different uniforms to signify their status as officers.
He shifted his gaze forward and away from his appearance to look out at their destination.
The old ruins of Mendel.
He had to admit, the place was as eerie as hell.
All those rumors that swirled around it were not what he had expected. And in truth, it made him squeamish.
Men and women trying to make an Ultimate Coordinator? Trying to play God?
The hubris in that place was enough to give him the willies. He shuddered against his will as he heard the door to the bridge slide open.
"Ah. Captain. I assume we are on course?" a soft female alto asked.
He turned in his seat and saluted. "Ma'am!"
The Blue Masque nodded as she drifted up and landed on the deck beside him. She turned her masked gaze towards Mendel.
"A place of such banality... and such promise in one," she mused.
The captain knew what she was getting at. "It is," he admitted. "The place is creepy as hell."
"As it should be. It was the site of many things, and one of them was of the utmost hubris." Although he couldn't see her eyes, he suspected they were narrowed by the way her eyebrows twitched inward.
The Blue Masque was a former ZAFT Intelligence officer, having worked alongside Eric Bristow for some time before he defected. She had long platinum blonde hair that spilled out and over her helm down to the middle of her back; it always shimmered when she walked, something she did not care to hide or tone down. Her eyes were always hidden behind the blue knight mask she donned prior to the revelation of GENESIS, choosing instead to walk away from the war and open up arms to accepting refugees who sought to live instead of die for supposed supremacy. A philosophical sort, she was as chivalrous as her persona showed. She was not one to resort to pure genocide or supremacist thoughts.
Her real name was Anastasia Zhukov, as she was descended from Russia's greatest field marshal in the Second World War, and it showed in her ability to command ships in the field. While she was nowhere near as ruthless as her ancestor showed, she was far from being a gifted brute alone. She understood the necessity of intelligence and acted on it, albeit in a more limited capacity than some others. And her gifts for battle did not extend to the leadership of the L4 Coalition. That she left strictly to the Coalition Council, a newly formed government comprising of all the colonies in the area that she and her group of pirates had taken over.
During the last weeks of the war and during the intervening peace, the Blue Masque's forces had staged raids on both ZAFT radical and Atlantian ships and mobile suits, stealing them, but leaving the crews with enough supplies for rescue. She was a pirate, yes, but not heartless. It earned her a sort of weird reputation for being both ruthless, and yet with a strange sense of honor, preferring to leave men alive, but mobile suits and ships damaged as a warning. But that was a sort of move that some claimed was weak. Only after an Atlantian attack force was completely wiped out and its ships and equipment stolen did those rumors disperse.
"Still, are you sure about this?" Hubert asked.
The Blue Masque nodded solemnly. "Yes. I too wish to uncover what secrets lurk in this hall of men who sought to play God." She reached up and adjusted the blue coat she wore in place of her old Red Coat uniform. After her defection, she had traded it in for something that made her stand out more, and she did indeed stand out amongst her fellow former pirates with it. It was a marked contrast from the PLANT leadership's tunics and uniforms. Her uniform was almost like her old ZAFT uniform, but it missed the PLANT flag along with the little black cape that came with it. Instead, her uniform had no such cape, and instead had on its left shoulder a battle-scarred image of the former station of Nova, and across it were the L4 that marked their location. It was a symbol that all captains wore, and it was a mark of the fact that all who lived in the Coalition were refugees who sought to live freely from both sides' intentions.
The blue uniform in of itself was also a political statement, decrying the taint of Blue Cosmos' ideology and the supremacy of Coordinator radicals like Zala had been.
In effect, they were giving the EA a big middle finger with that statement.
The helmsman spoke at that point, bringing both Hubert and his guest back to reality. "Sir, ma'am, we're coming up on Mendel now."
The Blue Masque nodded. "Excellent."
Hubert could hardly believe that this was even happening.
They were supposed to be neutral, and yet the resistance had asked them to look into Mendel? What was going on here?
His memory flashed back to the meeting he had been privy to thanks to his position as the most senior officer in the L4 Navy.
The resistance had called just that morning, asking them to look into Mendel as the President suspected a confrontation with the PLANTs sooner or later. He was confused as to why, but the representative had just shrugged and replied that he was just relaying a message. It took only a few hours to prepare the Garrod for deployment and crew were soon streaming aboard, along with a small shuttlecraft the resistance provided to allow for docking under cover. The captain had been even more surprised when the Blue Masque had stated that she too was going on this trip.
Seeing as how it was her that allowed them to become the nation they were, he couldn't object to her decision. So he allowed it, but he had a few of his best pilots to act as her security detail.
While she would have preferred to be without a security detail, she recognized the need for it all the same.
And now here they were.
The old colony ruins lay before them, looking like an ancient space station for how battered it was.
The Blue Masque turned to the helmsman. "Bring us to a stop once we have come within range of the former docks. The shuttle will suffice from here on out."
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
The Garrod continued for another five minutes before it came to a halt just outside Mendel's docks.
The captain turned to his best pilots, dubbed the Secret Seven as a joke by those aboard the ship. "C'mon," he said. He stood from his seat and spun on his heel, pushing off the floor and heading for the door. The Blue Masque and the pilots followed, heading for the changing room to don their space suits, or in the case of Hubert's pilots, their pilot suits.
It didn't take them long to change into their suits before heading for the hangar bay of the ship.
The old docks were still empty, which was a huge boon to the crew as they boarded the shuttle.
Unlike the other ships used by ZAFT and the spacefaring nations, this shuttle was boxy, bulky, and more durable. The emphasis on occupant survivability was apparent in the thick armor that covered its hull, and the lack of any rounded corners only added to that feeling. The engines were bigger than the standard shuttles as well, giving it an incredible speed advantage that put most other shuttles to shame. The glass on the cockpit and sides was also treated to handle space activity, so if it got hit, it wouldn't shatter, only spiderweb.
This shuttle was also armed, and not with something minor, either. A pair of missile tubes flanked its cockpit and sides, and a single automated turret could extend out from the top blister, allowing for full 360-degree rotation and even a straight up firing angle. However, the occupancy rating was less than a regular shuttle to make room for the self-defense armaments.
Painted a stark grey color across the rear to resemble debris and dark midnight across the front, it resembled a piece of loose debris floating towards the ruins of Mendel, especially as they did not need to really use the engines save for exiting the Garrod.
The pilot in charge of flying the shuttle weaved expertly around the debris field to reach the docking bay.
Unlike with the prior infiltration carried out by Terminal, the resistance had insisted that this one be done from top to bottom as best they could within a limited time frame. They had a full forty-eight hours to complete the task at hand, which would mean a return to the shuttle for some rest and resupply of oxygen and time for food and drink.
To Hubert, that was pushing it. A search over the whole colony would require an entire battalion of investigators. But seeing as how they had only the nine of them, they'd have to split up to cover more ground. It would help, but not by much.
Already they had a few good ideas of where to look.
One of those was none other than the old GARM building.
Hubert frowned as he watched the shuttle maneuver past the docks and into the interior of the colony
The old buildings looked to be in much worse shape than before, but given the state of the old place, it was to be expected.
"You have the target?" he asked the helmsman.
He nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "We'll set down in the middle of the park and then you guys can do your thing."
The nine men and women nodded.
The shuttle touched down and landed in the center of the main park. The pilots, captain, and Blue Masque donned their helmets and the helmsman hit the open button. The door hissed open, exposing them to the exterior around them.
The buildings were in much worse shape, indeed, Hubert noted as they floated out of the shuttle. The door hissed shut behind them and the pilot waved good luck. He nodded back and turned his attention to the group. "Okay. Here's the deal. We have forty-eight hours to search this place from top to bottom as quickly as we can. Now, given the size of this place, it won't be easy. So, I've marked out maps for three teams to take. Each team will cover one of the labs where the PLANT chairman may have worked in the past, one of which is the old GARM building." He reached into a pouch on his suit and pulled out three folded pieces of paper. "Team One will consist of me, the Blue Masque, and Gerry Gulliver."
He handed the first slip of paper to Gerry who took it.
"Second team is Hillary Wilson, Bud Churchill, and Bobby Saka." He gave a second slip to Hillary and she saluted.
"Third team is Maggi Cox, Gill Okasha, and Putnam Huckabee." He gave the third slip of paper to Maggi, which she proceeded to open.
"Team One is to handle the GARM building. Team Two, you'll handle the lab next door. And Team Three, you'll check in the third lab just across the street. Once we've covered all three labs, we'll move onto the next set just a few blocks over," Hubert instructed.
"Yes, sir!" the team leaders replied.
"Now, let's go!" Hubert turned and, with his superior and top pilot behind, pushed off the ground and Gerry unfolded the sheet of paper he had been given.
He scanned it over, his helmet light flipping on as he examined it.
"Okay. We have to go up to the top floor. That's where a lot of genetic study was being done," he stated.
Hubert nodded. "Right. Both of you, on me!"
He pulled out his firearm, a derivative of the ZAFT machine gun machined specifically for the L4 Coalition Defense Forces. He aimed it before him as Gerry pulled out his M1911 pistol, gifted as part of a trade package between the Coalition and the resistance. He aimed it as the Blue Masque simply followed her two subordinates.
The trio entered the main lobby of the old building, ignoring the rest of the debris floating around. Hubert pushed past some of it and made his way over to the stairs, kicking in the door and looking up the shaft. His eyes narrowed as he made his way to the center of the staircase and pushed off one of the railings, making his way up through the gap in the middle of the stairs. Behind him he could sense Gerry and the Blue Masque following.
Start HIDDEN TRUTHS - Destiny 2: The Witch Queen OST
The captain of the Garrod reached out and grasped the railing as they approached the top floor. He felt himself jerk as he flipped over the railing and came to a stop just outside the doorway leading into the main hallway.
Gerry and the Blue Masque followed suit, his superior flipping over the railing with grace and precision as she landed on the old floor. Gerry on the other hand just pulled himself over the railing and landed in a crouch.
Hubert grasped the doorknob and slowly opened it.
The interior hallway was just as dilapidated as the rest of the building, with scratches and holes marring the walls and floor. A number of old wires swung lazily in the zero gravity, some of them with fabric draped over them, lending an eerie Southern feel to the old place. Hubert pushed into the hallway with his gun held before him. Behind him came his superior, backed up by Gerry.
They drifted past a few rooms that had their doors open and Gerry called out. "Here!"
The three drifted to a stop in the middle of the hallway as best as they could.
"These rooms were where they did a lot of genetic study and testing," the pilot explained. "I used to work here before I joined ZAFT."
"I remember," Hubert muttered.
Gerry had worked at the GARM facility before the First Bloody Valentine War broke out, only to retire and go straight into ZAFT where he showed much promise as a mobile suit pilot. However, with the onset of Armageddon, he too had joined the pirates who would soon form the L4 Coalition.
"So, which room did they perform the tests in?" the Blue Masque asked.
"This way." Gerry pushed off the floor and drifted down to another room that looked like the door had been hastily barricaded. This made Hubert frown.
'Someone tried to hold out here...' he mused. He instinctively moved in front of the L4 leader. "Stay behind me, ma'am," he ordered.
She drifted back a bit as he made his way over to the door and pushed aside one of the bookshelves that had barricaded it. The zero gravity would have normally made sure that the bookshelves were drifting, but it appeared they had been magnetized to the floor with magnetic wheels, which actually made sense. The second bookshelf was easier to move now that the first was gone. Once both had been parted, the door was exposed, showing a few bullet holes.
Gerry hefted his pistol and grasped the doorknob in his free hand, opening the door and leaning in, red eyes narrowed and ready for anything. He couldn't see anything else in the room, but some blood floated out, and he began to get a bad feeling in his gut. He slowly motioned for Hubert to come forward.
The captain did so, slowly peering in and almost losing his lunch at the site of the bodies drifting in the middle of the room.
The lack of air in space had preserved them perfectly, as well as their manner of death.
The room was occupied by four bodies, each one with bullet holes in the chests and heads. The bodies looked to be of two men and two women, all still wearing bloodstained lab coats and clothes. One woman had a shocked look on her face, and the two men looked as if they had died in agony from their wounds. The fourth woman had clearly died before the attack had happened.
"Clear!" Gerry exclaimed.
"Clear," Hubert muttered as he drifted into the room.
The Blue Masque entered, and she shook her head. "There was no chance for them," she muttered darkly.
"Same for the rest of this place..." Hubert agreed.
Gerry didn't say anything, but the captain could get the feeling like he was nodding.
The trio ventured in a bit further, only for Gerry to cuss loudly over the comms. Hubert turned around with his gun held at the ready in case of an attack but was only surprised to see Gerry writhing about in some wires. He let out a sigh of relief and lowered his gun.
"Stupid wires...!" the pilot muttered as he let his superior untangle him.
Hubert just shook his head.
The two men went one way while the Blue Masque went another way.
"Gerry, who do you remember working here?" he asked.
"Let's see... there was that professor, Hibiki, that ass. I remember him clearly," the Coordinator muttered. "He always said that we were just the first step on the evolutionary ladder or some shit like that. I don't even remember anymore, honestly."
Hubert nodded. "Right. Anyone else of note?"
Gerry pursed his lips as he frowned. "Well... there was that man... he had black hair and brown eyes, and he was very interested in how genetics played a role in people's behavior... And we know him as the Supreme Chairman, sir."
The captain of the Garrod got a jolt down his back at those words.
"You mean... the chairman worked here?!" he breathed.
Gerry turned to his superior. "Yeah. He did. And he was, as I said, interested in how genetics played a role in human behavior. I believe he had some notes hidden away somewhere here, but I can't recall where off the top of my head. It's been close to five years since I've been here, after all."
The other man knew what he meant by that.
After the outbreak of some kind of virus, the entire colony had to be abandoned. But now, he began to wonder if there had been a more sinister purpose behind the outbreak. His eyes narrowed as he scanned around the old room, avoiding what droplets of frozen blood had floated away from the corpses.
The two men started to search thoroughly as best they could, given the limited time frame.
Hubert grasped a floating paper and looked at it.
Scribbled across its front was all kinds of stuff pertaining to genetics and how they affected the Coordinator genome. He tossed it aside and started to scan the bookshelves that had been bolted to the floor. Several books were floating around and he grabbed one, flipping it open as soon as it was in his hand. He flicked through a few pages, noting it had been a notebook.
He scowled as he threw it aside and went for another one a few meters away.
As he was reaching for it though, his foot bumped against something hard.
Grunting, he looked down, and his eyes widened as he stared at the old safe bolted to the floor.
The safe was old, battered and dented from being in space and in this old colony for close to two decades. But it was still durable, and it still looked like it had safeguarded its contents. Hubert wasn't sure why, but he just felt the sudden urge to examine the contents of the old safe.
He floated back to the front of the safe and landed on the ground, kneeling down in front of it. "Hey, Gerry? Did any of the workers here have safes?" he asked.
Gerry perked up and looked over, his eyes widening. "Yes! Some of them did!" he exclaimed. He floated over and knelt beside his superior. "Let's see..." He reached into a pouch on his suit and pulled out a small beam "torch" of sorts. He fiddled with it and the beam shot out, allowing him to stick it into the thick steel door. He slowly adjusted the beam around before moving it around the edges of the door.
It didn't take him long to cut the door open and the two men removed it.
Inside, bundles of neatly bound papers drifted. Hubert snatched one and opened it, revealing more notes on genetics. Scowling, he tossed it aside and started searching through the others.
His efforts seemed to be futile until he stumbled onto something in the tenth bundle.
It looked like some kind of diagram...
And it was not related to genetics.
He pulled this one out and opened it, revealing a sheaf of notes that resembled something akin to a plan of some sort. Written in the margins were several notes on genetics, but for the most part it was pertaining to the organization of something big.
He frowned as he pulled it close and put it into an empty pouch on his suit.
He looked over at Gerry, who by now had put the old paper bundles back. "You find something?" he asked.
Hubert nodded. "Yeah. Something really big," he admitted. "And I don't like it."
. . .
'Sure hope the captain is having better luck than we are...' Hillary thought as she brushed aside some old clothing in her path.
The lovely twenty-five-year-old scanned around her with her keen blue eyes, narrowing them as she drifted alongside her two friends as they made their way to one of the other labs.
This building, unlike the GARM facility, was much more modern, and it lacked the cylindrical structures. It resembled more of an office building than a hi-tech lab for genetic research. But then again, appearances could be deceiving. The lettering on this building was rusting and falling down; one of the letters had landed atop a few cars long after the colony being abandoned and was now wedged into the pavement deep enough that it wouldn't float away. The remaining letters read Genetitech Industries, and this prompted the trio to investigate.
The door was still open, which was a surprise. But what they saw inside was a horror scene straight out of a slasher film.
Bodies littered the entrance lobby, but what threw them for a loop was that most of them lacked any military emblems on their uniforms. But one of them possessed a small patch on his shoulder, clearly marking him as a member of Blue Cosmos. The patch displayed a view of the Earth with a single stem beneath it, a clear reminder of the environmental group they had once been.
Hillary looked away from the body, spotting several more drifting in front of what appeared to be a blast door that had been shut in an attempt to save the workers here, she figured. Of course, that all depended on whether or not they were still alive, which she highly doubted. She drifted closer to one of the bodies and turned it over, noticing it had the wording of the company written on the clothing. A pistol was still held in the right hand, and she guessed that these people had been a part of the security team, and they had been well trained if the results were anything to go by.
Bobby grimaced at the sight. "Yuck!" he muttered as he avoided a length of pink tubing floating by.
"Yeah, it's sick," Hillary muttered. "But then again, these people were clearly better trained than these Blue Cosmos thugs drifting around here."
Bud pushed a chair aside as he floated towards one of the blast doors. "Clearly the security here knew what they were doing," he remarked as he studied the long dead electrical panels. "With the power in this place on the fritz, I can't access the control panels to open these doors." He looked back at his team leader. "We'll need to find another way in."
"Agreed," Hillary remarked as she flicked on her helmet light and started searching.
"The best bet would be making our way up to the second floor from the outside," Bobby suggested. "It would save us some time due to the deadline."
Hillary pursed her lips as she remembered the forty-eight-hour deadline. She sighed. "Yeah, you're right."
The trio made their way back outside and they looked up the massive building's facade. A number of windows still remained in place, but a few had been cracked by the years of neglect and the debris floating around. Hillary glanced to her teammates and nodded.
As one, they pushed off the ground, making their way to the second floor. It wasn't that long an ascent, and they were able to grasp onto one window each as they made their way into what appeared to be a conference room. The chairs and table were floating around, along with several papers and books.
Bobby pushed away from the window and floated around the debris, pushing some aside until he reached the door. He touched down and slowly pried it open, exposing the outside hallway. All that was visible were scratches and holes in the floor and walls. A couch lazily floated by the room. He slowly inched out into the hall, his pistol held at the ready. It wasn't anything special, another M1911 pistol donated by the resistance. But it did do the job.
He floated there before he gave the signal. "Clear."
Hillary and Bud drifted up to him and looked around.
"Which way?" Bud asked.
Hillary pulled out her map and opened it, exposing the blueprints for the building. "The third floor should have the genetic labs we're looking for. If not, we'll keep going higher. A staircase should be around..." She looked to the left. "...this way."
The two men nodded and followed after her as she floated down the hallway, her eyes narrowed.
The hallway was desolate and silent, and unlike downstairs, there were no bodies up here. Instead, there was nothing. No sign of any struggle, no blood, no gunshot marks...
Nothing.
It was as empty as a cemetery.
Bobby grunted as a slip of paper floated in front of his face and he pulled it off his helmet's faceplate. "Hey... check this out."
Hillary and Bud turned. "What is it?" Hillary asked.
"It's a note. No, a memorandum. It's an order to evacuate using the underground maintenance tunnels..." Bobby mused. "I think the personnel here escaped underground and fled to the hangar bay through those tunnels. Probably the Blue Cosmos thugs wanted to get in here and take out the staff. But the security team put up one hell of a fight and took them all down before succumbing to their own wounds."
"That does seem likely," Hillary remarked. "But right now, we're looking for anything that could pertain to the chairman's prior employment as a geneticist."
Bobby huffed as he let the paper drift away from him. "Yeah, I know," he muttered.
Bud shifted his gaze to the hallway ahead and pushed off in the direction Hillary had said to go. His grey eyes narrowed as he picked out the door. "Here!" he exclaimed. "The stairs are unlocked."
The two glanced to one another, then nodded and followed after him.
Hillary glanced to the door before she opened it, and was relieved to see no bodies lay before them. She nodded as Bobby went first. He shone his helmet light up the shaft; it was empty. He pushed off the floor and up to the third-floor landing. Bud and Hillary waited as he opened the door, pistol held in his right hand. Once the door was open, he moved into the hallway and aimed his gun left and right, eyes narrowed, body tense.
There was no one there but him.
He looked over his shoulder. "Clear!" he called.
The two drifted up to join him.
Hillary took the chance to glance around the hallway. "The labs should be down here someplace," she muttered as she held the map out. "Two doors down on the right."
Bud was the one to go out and hunt for it. His eyes darted around before they landed on the words inscribed on the glass. It was cracked, but they were still legible.
Genetic Analysis Lab
He grabbed the doorknob and pried it open.
Inside the lab was as clean as it had been prior to the viral outbreak. Test tubes were still in their holders, but a few floated freely. All other tools were put neatly in their cases, and a few laptops still floated tethered to their power cables. One of them was flickering feebly, but it was still active.
Bud seized his chance and floated over to it, grabbing it and starting to work.
The old device's screen was on its last legs, but it could still be used. He held it in front of him as his fingers flew over the keyboard. His eyes narrowed as he brought up a few files that looked like they had been hurriedly deleted. "Damn. This place was something," he muttered. "According to this they were conducting research into curing the Coordinator fertility problem, and they were close to success. Had it not been for the attack by Blue Cosmos of course."
"Huh. All they wanted to do was help people and look what happened," Hillary muttered darkly. "Blue Cosmos... their actions make me wonder just how much they hate those that are superior to them..."
"What about Durandal?" Bobby asked. "Does that thing have any data on him working in this lab?"
Bud shook his head. "No. But... here's something interesting. The prior owner of this computer had a meeting with him a few months ago, and he was found to be disturbed by something called... mankind's genetic destiny?" His eyes narrowed. "Hm..."
"Mankind's genetic destiny? What's that?" Hillary wondered.
"No clue," Bud admitted, "but the owner did say that Durandal did leave behind some papers and that he locked them up in a safe not too far from the genetic analysis labs. Fourth floor."
"Then we're going up," the female leader remarked.
"You guys go. I'm gonna see what else this baby has for us," Bud said as he continued to work.
"Okay. We'll meet you back here soon." Hillary nodded as she and Bobby exited the room.
She and Bobby headed out to one of the windows near the analysis floor and pushed out, floating into the emptiness around the building. The two shoved off the edge of the window and up a floor. Hillary snatched onto the edge and flipped her lithe body through the shattered window with ease, twisting around and landing on the floor. Bobby slipped in behind her and landed, his pistol held at the ready.
"Clear." That was all he said as Hillary gave a nod and looked around the room they had entered.
The interior was clearly a laboratory dedicated to engineering genes for Coordinators, she mused, from the way the equipment was spaced out and labeled. She drifted through it, scanning for any sign of the safe Bud had mentioned. Bobby grasped a nearby book and pushed it aside, his eyes narrowed.
"Now where is it...?" she muttered.
The two started to search as quickly as they could, rummaging through the papers and books, pushing aside chairs and looking through trashcans to see if there was anything that could be of use. But nothing was present at first glance. Hillary began to wonder if there was something that they were missing when she heard Bobby's shout over her radio.
"I found it!" he cried.
She was barely able to keep from wincing at the loudness of his voice. She had to resist removing her helmet to rub at her ears as she drifted over to his location. "What did you find?" she asked.
"The safe," Bobby stated. "It's locked, but I think I can open it with a bit of work."
"I hope so," Hillary mused. She watched as her fellow Natural went to work, closing his eyes as he held his helmeted head to the door, listening for any sign of the lock opening. The old dial was easy to turn, and after a few attempts at opening the door, he got the combination right. He opened his eyes and smirked as he grabbed the handle and pried open the door.
"Got it," he purred as he gave her a thumbs up.
The woman merely rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she reached into the sheafs of papers.
"Huh. This is interesting..." she muttered. "All these notes pertain to genetic problems with the Coordinator immune system. It's not that it's not effective. It's that it's too effective relating to the procreation between Coordinators."
"Maybe we should bring these with us, too," Bobby suggested. "I mean, if the resistance learned of this and worked to fix the problem, perhaps it would win over support for them. It would show that they are willing to help Coordinators, and not exterminate them."
Hillary pursed her lips as she pondered this. It did make sense, actually. If the US and their allies were to work on curing the issue, then not only would it show they were not the monsters their leaders were trying to turn them into, and it would win back global support for the former superpower, as well as their former allies. But the other, more profound, aspect pertained to the medical field. It would show what they were supposed to do: helping people.
A smirk crossed her face. "Yeah. Grab all the documents you can. Find a trash bag or something and start gathering them up into it. I'll search for the files Durandal left behind in this mess."
Bobby saluted as he drifted off towards the exit and into the hallway, searching for a janitor's closet.
As he did that, Hillary dove into the piles of papers, shifting through sheaf after sheaf, trying to find anything that showcased Durandal's ambitions, whatever they were. She scowled as she lifted up what appeared to be a mess of equations, only to halt as she studied it closer.
It wasn't just equations.
It was percentages. And each one was relating to... a certain job? She lowered the paper and looked at it, as well as the pile she had pulled it from. Her eyes narrowed as she looked through the sheaf, finding more percentages and jobs, as well as something else.
One sheet of paper had on it three squares, one red, one yellow, and one green. She could see wording written on it in Durandal's handwriting, and her eyes widened as she realized what she was staring at.
These notes... were pertaining to something big. She grabbed the sheaf of papers and was about to stuff it into the empty pouch on her suit just as Bobby came back in.
"Ma'am?" He was surprised at seeing the dark look in her normally pleasant blue eyes. "Something wrong?"
"You damn well know it!" she hissed, startling him.
"Huh?" Bobby arched an eyebrow as she held out the papers. Bobby handed her the trash bag he had gotten and took the papers in exchange. He started to look through them, his eyes slowly widening with each one he read. The whole time his mouth slowly fell open as well, showing his shock.
"What...the hell is this?!" he breathed.
"Honestly, I have no idea... but if it's got some connection to this ideal of his Bud mentioned, then I think we stumbled onto something big here," Hillary stated as Bobby handed the papers back to her and reclaimed the trash bag. He started to gather up the papers relating to the genetic issue of Coordinator infertility and stuffed them into the bag.
"That does seem possible," Bobby mused. "But for now, let's rendezvous with Bud when we're done here. We have a lot to show the captain and the Blue Masque."
Hillary nodded and put the papers in her pouch before she started helping Bobby gather up all of the papers inside the safe.
. . .
Bud was terrified.
Not so much because of the fact that he was in an abandoned colony.
No. That was not it.
It was what he had discovered while poking around on that old laptop.
The whole idea of mankind's genetic destiny?
It was, according to the owner of the laptop, a plan dependent on genes. He wasn't sure what it was truly consisting of, but whomever had worked with Durandal was disturbed enough to include a few more files on the plans and encrypted them. It was child's play for the tech-savvy Coordinator to hack through the encryption, but the fact that it had been low-grade military level was a surefire indicator that the owner had not wanted this stuff to get out.
He shut down the computer and disconnected it from its charging cord. He glanced up just as he saw his two friends descend the old building and into the lab where he sat crouched. "Did you guys find anything?" he asked.
"We did," Hillary snarled. "And it's not good at all."
"What about you?" Bobby wondered.
"I did," Bud admitted, holding up the old laptop. "It's very terrifying. And it's... the implications are not good, guys."
"All the more reason to head out and find the others," Hillary stated.
"Hold on." Bobby held up a hand. He turned to face Bud. "What did you find?"
"Let's just say that..." Bud grimaced. "Well, the owner of this laptop was able to get some files that Durandal had taken with him and photographed them using their laptop's camera. The files were encrypted. And these files laid out a world where a job was given to a person with a genetic disposition towards it, whatever that means."
"A person's genetic disposition towards a job? That's weird," Bobby remarked, folding his arms. "And actually, we did find some data pertaining to jobs with percentages beside them."
Bud's eyes narrowed. "Wait. Can you show me?"
Hillary nodded and reached into her pouch, pulling out a sheaf of papers. Bud handed her the laptop and took the papers, sifting through them. His eyes narrowed as he saw the numbers and jobs. "Huh... This... This is starting to look even worse than I thought..." he muttered.
"How so?" Hillary asked.
"I'm not sure... but what I'm getting from this is not good." Bud was serious. "The one thing about this is that it has do to with genes. And I'm not liking it."
"Let's get outta this place," Bobby muttered. "We can debate this later."
"All right." Bud nodded, then gestured to the trash bag. "What's in there?"
"Papers relating to the Coordinator fertility issues," the man said. "We think the resistance can use this to cure the problem, and win over the world's trust again. As well as show what the medical field is supposed to do: help people, not torture or turn children into weapons of war."
The Coordinator stared in shock. "You really think that can work?!" he blurted.
"It'll help restore some of their legitimacy in the eyes of the world," Hillary stated.
Bud pursed his lips as he thought. It actually did make sense, now that he thought about it. With Coordinators of the second-generation having issues with fertility, there were arranged marriage laws in place to ensure that only genetically compatible people could marry and have offspring. The generations after would not have children, and the Coordinator race would die out unless they married Naturals, and given the intense hatred between the EA and ZAFT, it was bound to be a failure.
So the only other option was curing the problem at its source: the Coordinator enhancements themselves.
He looked up. "All right. Let's get this back to the shuttle."
. . .
The third building was clearly the worst out of the three.
This one had been where several large cloning labs had been located, and from the looks of things, it was the worst hit in the attacks.
Maggi grimaced as she brushed aside some debris and looked around the interior.
The wording on the back of the major entryway read Barstow Cloning Research Lab, and it looked like it had been hurriedly scraped at by someone's knife. Her eyes narrowed. "Why we even have to search here is beyond me. I mean, according to the files that we have on Durandal, he didn't even work here."
"No, but he was reputed to be tight with a few people here," Gill muttered as he rubbed his head with one hand. "Ow..."
"Should've watched out for that low doorjamb, Gill!" Putnam joked.
"Shut it, Putnam!" Gill grumbled.
The other Coordinator just grinned as he floated past, his golden eyes alight in mischief. He turned his body so he was facing forward and flipped on his helmet light.
The beam shone about the room, illuminating the debris from the original occupants. Not many remained, though. Those that were remaining were dead bodies.
"Man... This place wasn't spared either," he muttered.
"Yeah," Maggi remarked. "Which is weird, considering the fact they were doing research into cloning."
"Well, I'm not too surprised. Some of this research was also applied to the Coordinators, from what I recall my wife told me," Gill stated. He looked around, his eyes narrowed.
Gill's wife had once worked for this very firm, only to flee after the viral outbreak that forced the occupants to flee in the first place. And as a result, she had knowledge of what they had done here.
Maggi nodded. "I see..." She pursed her lips as she looked around. "Start scanning for anything that could be out of the ordinary here."
The two men nodded and started searching.
The trio split out over the main entryway, moving old debris and papers aside as well as poking around floating books. Most of them were either romance novels or old literature that came from the mid-twenty-first century, but there were a few current books in there, well as current as the late 50s CE, anyway. One book bumped into her helmet and she pushed it aside.
The whole lobby was empty of anything valuable, she knew, so why they were even searching here was beyond her.
It was only when Putnam let out a cackle that she realized that maybe they had overlooked something.
The red-headed Coordinator held up a hand and gave a thumbs up by the main desk. The dim glow of a screen indicated he had managed to get a computer up and running.
The other two team members made their way over as he continued to work. Maggi peered over his shoulder and let out a low whistle. All across the screen were names of people who had worked in this very building. And some of them had appointments booked. "This looks like it was from twenty years ago," Gill muttered. "And some of these appointments... let's see..." He gently nudged Putnam aside as his fingers went to work, bringing up recently scheduled appointments and the ones who had made them. His eyes glimmered as he smirked. "Oh, yeah. We got a hit!"
Maggi narrowed her eyes as she saw the names. "Daniel Libbers, genetic analyst, 2nd floor... Harry Potterson, genetic analyst, 3rd floor... Ronald Wesley, psychologist, 4th floor... and Greogry Sullivan, genetic analyst, 2nd floor."
"All had appointments scheduled four different days... all by the same man," Gill noted. His eyes hardened. "Gilbert Durandal."
"Think we should split up?" Putnam asked. "Given how there's four of them and only three of us..."
"We'll each tackle a floor, and meet back on the second floor for the final office," Maggi stated. "We'll keep in contact to inform each other of what we find."
"Yes, ma'am!" the two men remarked.
The threesome made their way to the stairs at the far end of the lobby and Maggi kicked the door in, letting Gill go first. He made his way up, followed by Putnam, and then Maggi. Maggi watched as Gill stopped at the second-floor door. Putnam went up one more floor and Maggi ascended to the fourth floor. Maggi gave a signal over her radio to her two companions and they kicked in the doors, slipping into the hallways.
Unknown to them, they were about to find a lot of information that would lead to a horrific realization...
. . .
Maggi inched her way through the hallway on the fourth floor, her eyes narrowed.
She held in her hand the M1911 pistol, which she was glad to have. She had to thank the resistance for having a surplus of these things, although she did wonder where they got them from. She decided to inquire later, shoving her thoughts aside until the mission was complete.
The interior of the hallway was much less dilapidated than the outside was, which was a surprise, considering the rest of the colony's state. She stopped before a room and slowly peeked inside, her eyes picking out the name on the plate.
Percy Wesley, Ph.D.
That wasn't the one she was looking for. She pushed off down the hallway a bit more, looking left and right for any sign of the man's office. A few more names reached out to greet her: Dreison Malfoy, Ph.D., Daphnee Greengrass, Doctorate, etc.
She kept going for a bit longer before her eyes landed on the man's name.
Ronald Wesley, Ph.D. Psychologist.
Maggi frowned as she came to a halt and landed on the old floor. The door looked like it was battered, and the glass was cracked. She gripped her pistol as she reached for the doorknob. She slowly turned it and the old door swung open.
Inside the office was a mess.
Papers and the furniture drifted about lazily, and she hurried in before shutting the door so as to prevent any of the stuff from floating out into the hallway. Now that she was inside, she could start rooting around for information.
The Natural woman was quick to start sifting through the papers floating about.
Most of them pertained to the psychological profiling of individuals who sought to have themselves cloned. Which was illegal, given the complications that came with such a procedure. And the genetic flaw that led to many clones failing in their lives: the DNA of the donor was used in the process, which meant that their telomeres would be the same length as their progenitors.
That was the thing that many people had failed to realize, especially those who sought to preserve their legacies through a genetic copy of themselves. The man who had been notorious had been Al da Flaga. She knew the man was vain, and he always believed himself to be above the law, putting his own vanity before the love of his own family. But it was how he had sought to preserve himself that made her grimace. Through direct cloning, unlike the cloning that others had been proposing - indirect cloning.
Indirect cloning was a method by which the DNA of the progenitor was not siphoned directly, but slowly taken from both the parents and then mixed with the progenitor. This ensured a stable base from which the cloned individual could be grown. It also rendered the telomere problem moot, as the combination of both parents allowed for stable DNA to be used as the medium.
It was thanks to this that the infamous madman known as Rau le Creuset had been born, and therefore was also the cause of his descent into madness and hatred.
She put the papers aside. While she did find this rather interesting, she had a mission. And from the looks of things, it seemed like Ronald had been veery keen on making detailed notes of his patients and clients.
Maggi started to make her way through the office, coming to a desk bolted to the floor. A smart move, she noted. It also meant that any papers or notes left there would be in place still. She drifted over and came to a stop, wedging her feet into the gap between the floor and the desk bottom. She grasped one of the drawers and slid it open, coming face-to-face with a notebook that had been tied with some old string. She pulled it out and undid the string, opening the book as she did so. She narrowed her eyes as she began reading.
'Seems like Ronald didn't just make detailed notes about his clients,' she mused. 'He also took the time to study their personalities.'
That was interesting right there.
She started to skim the notebook, and her gaze landed on two words.
Gilbert Durandal
'Oh...? Looks like he also studied the chairman...' she thought as she whistled softly.
"On first glance, Gilbert Durandal is a smart, cunning, and charismatic young man. And while he is incredibly brilliant, there is something about him that just... unsettles me. I cannot say for sure what it is, but the way he carries himself seems to me that he believes he is destined for something great.
The fact he has been questioning me about the ideal genetic disposition towards behavior is very disturbing. I asked him at lunch today if he had any motives for asking me these things, and he simply told me it was for reference's sake, that he had a grand ambition for something. That the whole world would see it for what it was, and that he hoped the future generations could learn something from his ideals.
In my naivety, I assumed it was for a book or a lecture he was going to give. So I took it as such. But I did not realize how badly I had been misled.
Gilbert Durandal's cunning never ceases to amaze me, least of all his ability to sway people to his side and views.
It is all too disturbing... and inhuman.
Maggi narrowed her eyes as she closed the notebook.
'The fact he was quizzing Ronald about the ideal genetic disposition towards behavior... That's not right,' she thought. 'This points to him having had something in place long before everything happened... even before this whole war broke out... But how could he have been planning for this long before? Was it just a pipe dream to begin with, and then after something happened, did he suddenly get the will to carry out something big?'
The mere thought sent a shiver down her spine as she put the book in a small backpack she found drifting around the office. After slipping it on her back, she opened another drawer, finding a flash drive in it, taped down to the bottom of the desk. She pursed her lips as she plucked it out. 'May as well take this. Not even sure if there's anything on it...'
She closed the drawer and proceeded to open one more.
She wasn't too surprised to find it empty. She scowled and closed it, only to open it again as she spotted a lone envelope sticky-tacked down to the bottom. She grasped it and pulled it loose before opening it.
"What's this?" she muttered.
Maggi slowly inched the contents out...
and her eyes widened.
"Holy crap...!" she whispered.
The information was pertaining to the psychological behaviors of certain people, most likely those in certain career fields, she noted.
'No wonder he asked Ronald about this stuff!' she thought. She was quick to slip the flash drive and the papers of the envelope back inside before putting them both in the backpack.
She had to meet back with the others.
. . .
The third floor was not a place to be, seeing as how there was much to be had about the genetic technology here. All of it was either destroyed or removed from the labs.
Putnam's eyes flicked over the destroyed equipment and he scowled. 'Whoever was here was very thorough,' he thought.
He drifted past the old labs and into the offices, noticing that there was an emergency door in between him and his target. He narrowed his eyes as he slid along the wall, seeking out an opening.
The Coordinator was rewarded for his efforts, finding a hallway that wasn't blocked. Instead, it was wide open, and several doors were left ajar as chairs and couches, along with a few old computers, floated in the hallway. It was a simple matter to push the bulky objects aside as he made his way through. He ducked under a table and emerged into an intersection. He looked down the hallway to the right, noticing how it came back to the hallway that was blocked off. A smirk crossed his face as he floated down to the offices.
Once in the hallway, he spun around and pushed off the floor, floating down the hallway, scanning for the name he was looking for.
His eyes roved over the names until finally he spotted it and he smirked.
Putnam grabbed onto the doorknob and jerked to a halt, turning it as he did so. He pried the door open and was impressed to find the room inside was neat and tidy. Well, given the state of the rest of the colony, it was a real surprise, actually. Still, this would make things a bit easier, he knew. He floated in and closed the door behind him.
He knew at once that the furniture was bolted down, unlike so many other places in this deserted colony. And the books were sealed within glass cases in the shelves, so that made things a lot easier.
He grasped one of the shelves and opened up the case before looking at the titles.
None of them were what he was searching for, so he closed it and pushed back, turning his body so he could see the rest of the room.
An old laptop was tied down using string, he noticed, to the table. And it was still plugged into its charger. 'Maybe Mr. Potterson didn't have time to grab it,' he thought as he ignored it.
However, something just... didn't seem right about leaving it. He wasn't that much of a believer in any deity, but he did trust his gut, which was usually right. He felt that tingling in his brain as he grabbed the computer and pulled it loose, slipping it into his suit's extra-large storage pouch on his back. He continued to drift, and that was when he saw it.
A small note floating before him.
Or rather, a folded map.
Putnam arched an eyebrow as he grabbed it and opened it, only to stare at a crudely drawn map of the Earth, with several major cities marked on each continent, and each one had the words 'genetic testing center' written beside it. There was also a number of other things written into the margins of the map. Things like locations, as well as other components such as DNA storage banks, and even psychological evaluation stations.
But it was not as disturbing as the three words written in marker: green, yellow, and red.
Each of these was marked with something else, but when he turned the map over, it was blank. His eyes narrowed. 'The hell is this?' he muttered. 'This doesn't look like something that Mr. Potterson would make...'
He folded up the map and put it in his storage pouch before coming to a halt and looking around the office a bit more. He was at the very end of the floor; he'd have to go back.
After all, the map was a clue as to something big. So he needed to inform the others, ASAP.
. . .
The second floor was as barren as the rest of the building, as well as the most damaged.
'Seems to me like Blue Cosmos didn't want this information to go public, especially given the clone that rampaged last war,' Gill thought.
And it did make sense. From what he knew from his former fellow ZAFT officers, Le Creuset's files had been highly classified, except for his military accomplishments. The man had been insane, but he had been downright damned brilliant. To play both sides of the war like that... if that wasn't manipulation at its finest, then he didn't know what else was.
Well, maybe except for the resistance leader, he mused.
Now she was even worse. She was able to read Djibril like a book, and that allowed her to stay ahead of the man. As well as turning half the Senate against the Patriot Youth Act. Now that was an accomplishment in of itself. He couldn't help but chuckle at that.
However, his mind was forced from that as he arrived at the offices in the middle of the hallway.
They were barren like everywhere else on this floor. But one of them had the door barred shut.
Now that was not normal. Gill frowned to himself as he made his way over and was surprised to see that it was Daniel Libbers' office. He frowned a bit more as he knelt and pulled out a lockpick from his suit's pouch. He stuck it into the lock and began to move it around, relying on his sense of touch to get an idea of when the lock was going to snap open. He closed his eyes out of habit, letting his instincts guide him. Being a former ZAFT spec ops officer was paying off, he mused as he felt his lockpick jolt and juke before the lock's clasp popped open. He opened his eyes and removed the lockpick before he grabbed the lock and slid it off the bar in front of the door.
He grabbed the bar and slid it aside, letting the thing drift in the hall as he opened up the door.
And right into a carnage scene.
"Holy...!" His eyes were wide as he stared at the deceased body of Daniel Libbers, his eyes wide in his last moments before death. A single bullet hole was right between his eyes and he held in his left hand a bloodstained piece of paper. The note was written in a black pen, and it was clearly visible to the Coordinator.
Gill floated over to the paper and took the hand of the body, noticing how it was being held in a death grip. He looked at the paper, and his blood chilled, sending a shock right to his very core.
DISTAIN + WHITSUNDAY + METHYLPHENIDATE was written in bold lettering. But that was all that was on it. He scowled as he pulled out a small camera and took a picture of the note before floating over to the door and preparing to leave.
But then he paused. His eyes narrowed a bit as he looked at the body, then the note. He wasn't sure why, but... something told him there was more to the scene than he knew. He turned back to the room and scanned over the surroundings.
Nothing out of the ordinary greeted his eyes.
Scowling, the man turned and left the room, carrying a photo of the mysterious note and the world's future with him.
. . .
December 5th, CE 0073
Mendel Colony
December 4th passed by swiftly as the teams continued their search and passed along what information they had to one another.
And actually, it was a good thing they did. Because it was around midnight on December 5th that the implications of what they had uncovered started to make themselves known.
The Blue Masque took the chance to call her fellow L4 residents back to the ship to discuss their findings.
The nine members met back up at around four in the morning; everyone was exhausted, but they looked grim as they assembled in the large meeting room.
"Everyone, our mission has yielded some very disturbing information," the leader of the L4 colonies started. "And it is unlike anything we have discovered."
"You mean this, right?" Putnam asked, holding out the map.
The woman nodded, her mask hiding her eyes, but her clenched hands indicating her tenseness.
"You're referring to the notes we uncovered, right?" Maggi wondered.
Again, the Blue Masque merely nodded. She pulled out the seat and sat down, her fingers tenting in front of her mouth as she looked at each of her teammates and subordinates.
"Yes. So, let us review what we have uncovered," she stated.
Hubert was the first to speak.
"Well, first off, what we discovered was that the chairman, when he worked here, had made all kinds of notes on genetics and how they are tied into someone's personality. Something that is somewhat true, but in reality, it all comes down to how one is raised that indicates the person's true nature." He held up the sheaf of notes he had taken from the GARM building. "I'm not sure as to what this means, but... I think Durandal had been planning something like this for months, if not years."
The Blue Masque frowned. "This is... what I'm not liking..."
Hubert gave a nod as he turned to Gerry.
The other man sighed. "I've spent the last few hours trying to piece this together myself, and all I can get is that the Chairman has some kind of grand design for humanity in the aftermath of this war. A design that borders on crazy, if not downright impossible without the right infrastructure."
"I think maybe we've found some stuff that could give a vague idea as to what he may be planning with this scheme of his," Putnam said darkly as he pulled out something. "We found it in one of the older labs; the lab facility where they were doing research into cloning. I'm not sure why he went there, but I did find this."
He unfolded the paper to reveal the map.
The entire group leaned over as he spread it out on the table. He pointed to the dots marked on it. "Here. On every continent, there are several dots marked. These indicate the presence of, according to this key in the margins, genetic testing centers. But there is also another thing that's gotten me disturbed." His finger moved to the left margin. "This right here. It's marked as a DNA repository, and this one here... it's a psychological evaluation center."
"But why would this map have all that?" Maggi asked.
"I think it pertains to this, here," Putnam added, pointing to the green, yellow, and red marks.
Hillary's eyes widened. "Wait!" She reached into her own pouch and pulled out the sheaf of papers, sifting through them before finding the ones she was looking for. "Here we are!"
She laid them out next to the map. "Here we go!"
Putnam's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh... That's not good..." he muttered. "Look."
He gestured and a few of the others blanched.
But that was not all.
The meeting continued, with the revelation of the genetic caste system and percentages, along with the psychological conditioning of the people accorded to the genetic role assigned to them. The whole time this was going on, the Blue Masque was pondering the implications of this. They knew the how as to what his grand scheme entailed, but not the why or what it was really meant for. Sure there was the possibility of it ending all war and strife, but at a steep cost that no one was willing to pay.
The cost being their very human nature.
She bowed her head, closing her eyes behind her mask.
"This of the utmost disturbing nature I have heard of," she muttered.
"Then, what do you suggest we do, ma'am?" Hillary questioned.
The Blue Masque was silent as she looked up. And beneath her knight helm, her eyes snapped open, hidden though they were. "We must inform the resistance at once."
"N-Now?!" the captain blurted. "But... why?!"
"Because they must be informed of this," was all she said. "They have to know. And if they do know, then they may have an idea of what is going on." She paused for a moment. "I have a feeling that they may be preparing for an eventual conflict sooner or later..."
. . .
December 1st, 0073 CE
Looking up from the documents he'd been reading, Durandal's brow furrowed as he regarded the young ZAFT officer on the screen of his desktop monitor. "We've lost them? How so? I was under the impression that one of our satellites would always have the Moscow region under its gaze."
The man on the screen nodded. "We've tried to institute such satellite observation of all capitals within the Earth Alliance, but the Eurasian Federation appears to have stepped up its countermeasures. Three hours ago, our primary satellite monitoring the area was destroyed by an ASAT strike. We vectored in a backup satellite, but it too was destroyed within an hour of taking up its position. Reports of similar strikes against any satellites we have observing Eurasian Federation territory are coming in from multiple sources. This is clearly a coordinated effort."
Durandal took a moment to consider this new information. "The Eurasians are still attempting to throw the Americans out of Europe, so this can't be the start of a new campaign against us. The purpose of this operation… perhaps it's to shield their new friends from unfriendly eyes?"
"That's our assessment, sir," the officer confirmed, "How should we proceed?"
Durandal was silent for a few seconds before finally answering. "Continue to vector new satellites and probes, and provide whatever ASAT countermeasures are available. We need to reacquire the target as quickly as possible."
The officer nodded. "Understood, Chairman."
The screen went black, leaving Durandal alone with his thoughts. This was only a temporary setback; ships as large as the Archangel and Dominion could not remain hidden forever even with their submerging capabilities, especially given how active they and their mobile suits had been in the war so far. Still, this new development was concerning. Terminal had clearly made some powerful new allies, and they were taking full advantage of their capabilities.
Well played, Terminal, he thought with a begrudging modicum of respect, I should've expected nothing less from you. You were always going to be a far more challenging obstacle to overcome than those crude thugs in the Atlantic Federation. Rest assured, though, that I'm not going to give up the hunt so easily.
. . .
December 5th, CE 73
Durandal was downright impressed by how far things had come in the last few days.
Sure he was not expecting the Eurasians to keep shooting down his satellites, but the fact they were indicated they were serious about this war.
And this also led him back to the unexpected revelation that there had been two Destroys attacking the Chihuahuan Desert in the Atlantic Federation. What satellites he had in that region did earn him a very big surprise.
There was an active resistance movement within the Atlantic Federation. And judging from the size of the main base that they had attacked, it was clear that the movement was well organized and heavily armed, as well as well-connected if they could remain hidden for all this time.
The only issue here was if it was only one base... or if the movement was larger than he had assumed.
His eyes narrowed as he pondered this new development. Clearly whomever was in charge was a shrewd man, anticipating the moves of Djibril with an uncanny accuracy, and to be honest it frightened the Chairman. Not much could scare him, but this mystery opponent did. It was a mark that even he was only human. But to show that was something he didn't want to have happen. His eyes narrowed as he watched the movements of the Eurasians and Terminal. 'Now... who will make the first move? Terminal, the Eurasians, this resistance, or my own forces...?' he mused to himself.
. . .
Resistance Headquarters
Denver, Colorado
President Eisenhower's eyes narrowed dangerously as she pondered the recent developments sent from the L4 Coalition.
"You're sure about this?" she asked the Blue Masque.
The woman nodded. "Yes. This information has many implications, and they are not good ones."
"I see..." She closed her eyes. She did see the implications of this, and they weren't good, like she had said.
If there was one thing though, she could also see how this could be used against them... as well as Durandal.
A plan began to take shape in her mind. It was a risky one, but if done right...
Her eyes opened. "How much of this is accurate?"
"From the looks of things, this is a very rough draft, it would seem," the former pirate admitted. "But the idea that it could be implemented still worries me enough to want to take up arms against the man."
"No. Stay your hand," the President ordered. "I don't want to expose our hand until we are ready."
"So you wish to keep this close to your chest then, yes?" the Blue Masque asked, a delicate brow arching above her mask.
Eisenhower nodded. "Yes. I have a plan, but in order for it to work, we need the right things to happen. And as good as I am, I'm not entirely sure I can pull it off. But... I hope to God I can."
Already her mind was racing, coming up with plans and contingencies for those plans, as well as backup plans for those. All this would have put immense mental strain on any other person, but Eisenhower was used to doing this; she had done it so many times already it was second nature.
"Then I wish you the best of luck," the Blue Masque said softly. "I pray for your success..."
She nodded and closed down the comm before leaning back, her gaze fixed on the sky above...
As on the Atlantic sea, a former liner made her way towards the country that would refit her for war...
While in D.C., the investigation into Copernicus' tragedy was already underway.