Hey, peeps~! Here's the next chapter of The Phoenix Rising. I hope you guys are ready for what's coming here. ;) Here comes the home front now. ;3
- operation meteor: Okay. I loved that review. :) I wanted to do something to show the resistance is not going to allow Nazi beliefs to take hold any longer. And a trick they discovered is that soldiers under the sway of an Atlantian officer can be broken free from their command by killing the officer in the middle of an attack. As for the older assets, as long as it can move and has technology in it, and as long as it is in good enough condition, they will use it. :) And that is so cool you saw the Intrepid! XD Also, I'm really getting into the good stuff here. :) This is when Eisenhower gives her speech to really start the revolution! :D
- CT7567Rules: Oh, don't you worry. :3 You'll see some action in this chapter. ;3
(The screen shows only blackness before a small light is shown in the center, growing larger until a fire ignites, panning around to show the Strike Dagger S equipped with the Phoenix Striker flying through space, a tattered American flag shown flapping on a flagpole in a huge colony)
START MIKAKUNIN HIKOUSEN BY TAKAYOSHI TANIMOTO
(The camera pans in towards the colony where it shows several members of the resistance gathered: President Eisenhower, Steven Krane, Mackenzie Samantha Allen, Turbine Martinez, Keith Martinez, Marcus Wolcott and his squadron, Warren Thompson, Robert "Rob" Jackson, Kyle Eisen, and Turbine's squad mates)
Oh yeah! Be strong, jump on, and become the wind (The group is standing before the Redemption in the background, a shadowing mobile suit above them and below the ship)
Pass the orbit beyond the sky (The camera pivots away from them and out to show a map of the Atlantian Reich split into two colors: blue showing the resistance and purple showing the Reich)
I can't hold back this rushing speed (The camera zooms in on Denver as Eisenhower is shown standing atop a tank, waving her hand as she barks an order into a headset she's wearing)
A familiar town becomes a diorama (The screen is flooded with dust as a tank speeds by, showing a single pinprick of light as a shuttle is launched into orbit from Orb)
Burst through the unclear skies (The camera pivots away to show another explosion as a Murasame blasts past, bearing the emblem of Sicario)
Blow away your worries and discontent (The camera zooms in on the wolf head emblem before it starts to flutter as a flag, panning down to show the leader of Sicario, Arnold Franken, on the screen)
Who needs a journey that's by the book? (The commander of the mercenaries waves his hand and three mobile suits blast overhead, their pilots shown with their emblems behind them)
Even if you're lost or trembling, raise the altitude (The mobile suits fly overhead, panning down to show Sicario's Pacific Fleet, each heading towards Orb, the shadow of Djibril over it, his hands cupping around the island)
Oh yeah! Show off, mess up, and stand back up (The image is suddenly shattered as a huge gun shell slams into it before the camera pans to the left to show two ships in shadow, both bearing the flag of the United States Navy)
I'll watch the unknown horizon with you (The camera pans away to show the captain of the Archangel and Heero standing beside one another, their hands entwining)
Now be strong, jump on, and become the wind (The two look at one another before a mobile suit flies past, panning up to show the Strike Dagger clashing with a shadowy mobile suit)
Use the sun that lights tomorrow as a guide (A sinister dark aura surges out from the mobile suit, twin eyes glaring at the assembled warriors, the image of Durandal shown off to the side)
Fly off to the glorious world of freedom! (The image shows the resistance ship and their allies facing down the dark shadow, Djibril's face behind it as he looms over them)
GUNDAM WING: THE PHOENIX RISING
Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall
- Steven Jackson 'Spray' Krane
CHAPTER XLI: Home Front Declaration
DECEMBER 21st, 0073 CE
President Eisenhower stood before the entire room, her eyes fixed on the cameras as they hovered around her.
This was it.
The preparations, all the planning, the gathering of men, women, and material, the positioning of troops and assets, the financial siphoning, the construction work of underground factories, the infiltration of logistics... all of it had been geared towards this one moment.
The moment of liberation.
She currently wore her mask to hide her identity, but this was all part of her plan.
It was time.
Time for America to rise once more.
She adjusted herself in her seat before looking to one of the technicians and nodded.
The man returned it and within moments, his fingers were flying over the keyboard on his laptop, linking all cameras to the TORN.
As the signal was sent, a key number of personnel in the TCIC got wind of it via their contacts and they started to work, tapping into all Atlantian news stations, radio stations, and even the dark web. But that was only the first phase of their operation, known as Atlas Falls.
When the Atlantian nobility had taken power in the CE 50s, the leading technical experts had come together and discussed a possible plan to isolate them, but one of their numbers had been a LOGOs sympathizer and had leaked their plans to LOGOs, who had taken the idea and put it into practice. The first thing that had been done was that a huge number of websites had been acquired and taken over, then copied painstakingly to isolate the people in what they called the Atlas Firewall. It had been, according to a number of liars in LOGOs, a measure designed to prevent the Coordinators from sabotaging their electronic infrastructure. While it had been one of the main purposes, the real insidious purpose had been to isolate the public from the outside world, and therefore shape their opinions to their whim.
The Atlas Firewall had been proven to be impregnable to even the best hackers in the Republic of East Asia.
But not from those that had developed it.
Those people had allowed pirated information and other news sources to slip through via the use of VPNs and the TORN. It was all due to the TCIC that the firewall was going to come crashing down around them.
The mastermind behind Atlas Falls was actually named Atlas.
How ironic, really.
The man in question was actually present in the tech capital of the Atlantian Reich, San Fransicso.
And it was just as well, seeing as how he was one of those in the resistance with enough wealth to be considered one of LOGOs. But, due to his beliefs, he was not accepted by them, and despite their efforts to acquire his company, Atlas Software Technologies, he had wisely aligned with the aerospace giant, Boeing. This allowed them to protect the smaller company with their larger diversity and it allowed him to work around the clock with his top software engineers to devise a means to bring down the Atlas Wall.
And his plan was just about complete.
She just had to await the signal.
The signal came a few seconds later, and the man behind the camera nodded before giving the thumbs up.
The Atlas Wall was crumbling down around them.
"Ma'am, you're live!" he said.
She nodded and adjusted herself as she began to speak.
. . .
"My fellow citizens of the former Atlantic Federation.
"My fellow human beings on Earth and in space.
"I am the President of the United States of America.
"And I am the one behind the entire revolution unfolding right before your very eyes in the Atlantian Reich."
. . .
Across the country, resistance forces continued to fight, taking in Atlantian units that were delusioned with the lies they had been fed. One city in which a large resistance presence had taken root was Montgomery, Alabama. Despite its historical roots and former ties to the old white supremacist movements prior to the Civil Rights Movement of 0044 CE, the city was a prideful place and it showed in how its populace refused to surrender their beliefs to Blue Cosmos. Even after they had been overrun and draconian measures put into place to revive the old movements, the population refused to give up, resorting to guerrilla warfare and protests that sometimes turned violent.
In the newly fermenting revolution, the city's populace was quick to shut the docks and ports on the Alabama River, thereby disrupting the economy and preventing troops from coming in by water. The rebels had even seized control of the airport and train stations, keeping the city isolated. A mob approached the governor's house, breaking in in the middle of the night and lynching the man atop the capitol building the next morning at dawn to a roaring crowd of resistance fighters and former Atlantian soldiers.
. . .
"Yes, you heard right. I am the one behind this entire movement.
"Or rather, I am the one in charge of it.
"The whole movement has been years in the making.
"And that all stemmed from the revelation of George Glenn's origins as a Coordinator.
"What most people don't realize is that LOGOs was already infiltrating our countries long before this whole thing happened. But back then, the government was in the hands of sane people and we were able to keep them at bay. But then LOGOs and Blue Cosmos got wind of each other, and started to plan."
. . .
In the mostly desolate state of North Dakota, the open plains made for excellent fighting ground. And old settlements were the perfect location for the rebels to hide out in. So it made sense that the Lotos used by the resistance were shipped here and then assembled. The location of the main capital of Bismarck made sense to surround, and with the large river that ran through it, the entire place had to be closed off.
And LOGOs forces were having a tough time trying to round up the Lotos. Linear tanks and mobile suits belonging to the Atlantian Reich were rushing across the open plains, trying to herd the Lotos like old-time cowboys herding cattle or bison. But the rebels were far from stupid. They were wise to this scheme, and were acting in concert with their own mobile suit forces that were moving to surround the Atlantians.
A number of encirclements were already happening, and the Atlantians were soon isolated from one another, and with Mirage Colloid spread over the area, there was no way they could reach one another. They were trapped, and doomed.
. . .
"LOGOs began to put Blue Cosmos people into positions of power, using their own political and industrial savvy to ensure that this infiltration took place without anyone knowing about it. But some of those in power were wise to this and acted to try and limit their influence.
"And yet, it was for nothing.
"By the time the 50s came around, there was no hope left.
"We had been thoroughly subjugated.
"And we didn't even know it."
. . .
In the city of Pierre, South Dakota, the rebels had forcibly snatched the railroad station from the entirety of the LOGOs aligned staff there. As it was, like North Dakota, a large plains state, that made it a prime spot for a large number of Extended labs, disguised as food storage warehouses. But the resistance had already been aware of them, and through clever doctoring of records and shifting rail schedules around, the labs had not received any new Extended in months.
When the LOGOs puppet governor had tried to launch an investigation, it had been muddled by the resistance TCIC, making it closer to impossible to sniff out the real perpetrators. So now the labs were left to rot and all personnel had been shunted elsewhere. And without the railroad system designed to transport new Extended subjects, the LOGOs governor was receiving much flak from other labs in Mexico and Canada.
But the resistance had already taken down a good chunk of those labs, too.
. . .
"While the rest of the world was unaware of what was happening within our borders, the United Nations, it turned out, was.
"And that was when a shadow war began.
"Unseen beyond the spectrum of daily life, the United Nations fought LOGOs, trying to curb their influence across the globe. It was getting to the point that the United Nations would even succeed. But what really would have tipped the scales in the UN's favor was the appeal to them from the PLANTs to secure their independence. If that had happened, LOGOs would have lost the shadow war, and therefore all their building influence, as the United Nations would have proven that they were the government of the world.
"And LOGOs was aware of that.
"So they made their move."
. . .
In the northernmost territory of the former country of Canada, the resistance had established a firm base up there. With the open tundra and polar climate further north, no one who was sane enough would even think of making a base up there. But the resistance, seeing the potential for such territory, had made their presence known up there. And it was there where training for arctic warfare was taking place, seeing as how in the winter months a large part of the Canadian and United States territory was under snow right now.
The presence of the resistance also allowed them to build up cities that the Atlantians had overlooked, and with a large population in comparison to prior centuries, they now had a substantial manpower base up there, allowing them to surge south and surprise the Atlantians just below the tree line. And that was what was happening. Already guards stationed on the tree side were trying to radio support from the High Command, but it was close to impossible to reach Admiral West or his staff.
And the rebels were not about to stop.
. . .
"The new nobles and royals who control our country now were the ones who initiated the Copernicus Bombing. What you all don't know is this: a lone terrorist did not carry out the bombing, like the official history says. Instead, it was a group of terrorists who did it. And all were hired by LOGOs.
"They sent the group up to the city along with the bomb they were to use. Now, despite the official history, the very idea of a lone man bombing the city was suspect from the start. For one thing, considering the city's status as a lunar colony, a bomb that detonated with the force they claimed would have shattered the glass dome covering it. That would have sent glass flying across the lunar landscape, making the moon shimmer on that spot when the light from the sun hit it.
"So the mere fact that such a bombing supposedly took place should not have been accepted as legitimate reality. It was a lie, a sham foisted upon you and upon us all. An in-depth investigation, conducted by my historians and allied investigators turned up something much more gruesome and more in line with LOGOs' ethos.
"The United Nations leaders were murdered in cold blood by the terrorists.
"While some did die from the explosion, the rest were all cut down execution style, or in some cases, raped and then tortured before being killed. The bodies were then incinerated and the bomb detonated. LOGOs personnel went in and did a thorough cleaning of the spots where the executions and torture had occurred. During this process, they fed everyone the lie that the city was heavily damaged and reconstruction had to be done."
. . .
Deep within the Yukon Territory, the resistance had sequestered a large number of other cities. And it was these that were the main base for sniffing out LOGOs prison camps. There were a number of camps in the forested areas of Canada, which made for a real hassle to transport people to. But the Atlantians had jacked American logistics capabilities and had these camps built to house political dissidents and other people of an undesirable nature.
But it was here that the NSA was also planning to have their own operation carry out at the same time as the President wrapped up her speech. Already a number of people were gearing up, and news personnel were standing by to broadcast the sudden release of prisoners. Guards for the Atlantian Reich were going to be knocked into the camps by their own subordinates, or even thrown in by the NSA personnel.
This was not going to be a minor thing, either.
. . .
"I have actual footage of the massacre, and let me tell you, it is not something for the faint of heart. I won't force you to watch it, but if you feel you must not, then feel free to change the channel.
"As I have said, the footage is not for the faint of heart."
Footage taken from security cameras begins to play, showing the United Nations leadership being ushered into a nearby room to be executed. A few attempt to fight back, leading to the terrorists killing them. The rest cannot do anything as each of them are selected to be murdered execution style. Two of the women are hauled off to another section.*
One man has his fingers stepped on as another terrified representative records from her smartphone. A terrorist sees this and scowls, stepping over and grabbing the device. The camera shows the woman screaming before her mouth is shown getting closer, and then the device goes dark.*
A third scene is shown from a cleverly hidden smartphone, showing a woman being dragged by her neck to a bedroom. The man grabs his smartphone before running, attempting to escape. One terrorist spies him and the fleeing man is shot in the head. He collapses, his phone landing beside him. A boot steps down on it and then nothing.*
. . .
The state of Yucatán held a significant position within the rebel alliance spread across the country. As a state close to the Panama Canal, it made sense that the Atlantian Reich would establish a naval base there.
But now, it was a rebel stronghold. The base commander had long since sniffed the air and detected the changing tide of politics, and wisely aligned himself with the resistance well before they made contact with him. Already he had been resisting the sudden discharge of women from the personnel at his base, keeping them around but publicly reassigning them to more... domestic... duties. However, he had not officially removed them from the roster of active personnel.
And it was here that the resistance had sent a cluster of old destroyers recently reactivated for the purpose of defending the Panama Canal from LOGOs' remaining naval assets. Already a fierce naval battle was taking place, and the Atlantians were being beaten soundly by a people they considered lesser than they were.
. . .
Scenes end*
"As you can see, the terrorists did not hold back. There was no way that anyone survived. In the aftermath of the massacre, the bomb was detonated, and then the terrorists were ordered to kill one another, which they did. A perfect way to eliminate any and all evidence.
"During the cleanup, they purposely kept the truth of the damage a secret.
"And as a result, those families were never given justice. Their murderers went uncaught. They never went through a fair trial, and they never saw the law brought down on them. But, rest assured, those who did suffer the loss of loved ones that day finally can say they have faces to those who ordered their killings: LOGOs. LOGOs were the ones who issued that order. LOGOs were the ones who robbed families of sons, daughters, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, cousins, nieces, nephews, grandparents, aunts and uncles... The list of their victims is long and it continues to grow with each passing day.
"And if they have their way, then that list will also include everyone in the human race.
"Yes, I did say that. The reason: their endgame is to wipe out the entirety of the human race through constant warfare, even if they themselves have to manufacture new Coordinators to continue this pointless fight."
. . .
The words of this mysterious woman were really startling. All across the world, people were stunned. Had LOGOs really been planning to wipe out humanity? If so, how? Already the dark web was abuzz as people started to try and hack into it, only to discover much to their surprise that the Internet was once again at their fingertips. News sites from the Kingdom of Scandinavia were quickly accessed, and at once people began to see just what was happening outside in the world.
And that was the thing to recruit the rest of the fence sitters in the Atlantian Reich to join the rebels. Now, the country was split. The camps were set up, and both sides were eager to go to war with one another. All that was needed was the final spark.
With the sudden deluge of data swarming in from the Internet, the servers for the Atlas Wall were shorted out in a series of sparks and power fluctuations as the LOGOs technicians tried to keep the data stream out. But to no avail.
The Atlas Wall had finally crumbled.
. . .
"Let me ask you all something. Why is it that people who have been genetically enhanced are feared and made out to be monsters? Why is it that these old men seek to keep us locked into a moral and ethical Dark Ages? Why is it that the Coordinators are called inhuman beasts, demons, and even space monsters? The truth is, they are human just by one key virtue.
"Their blood.
"Their blood is not blue, pink, green or black. It is red. Red.
"The same color as you, as me, as anyone else on this planet. If they have red blood, then they are humans. They are organic. They live. They breathe. They share the same base DNA as us. They defecate in the same manner. They eat. They drink. They sleep. They make love. They feel. They feel pain. They have hopes, dreams, likes, dislikes, just as you and I do. The Coordinators are not enhanced by magic, demons, or any of the other shit that LOGOs espouses. They are not aliens. They are only enhanced through the use of science. And they are not as superior as you might think."
. . .
With the crumbling of the Atlas Wall, families who had been isolated were reunited across the globe. The influx of information and the revelation of the endgame of LOGOs was enough to shatter the perceptions LOGOs had put into place over the last five years. Men and women alike started to not point fingers at one another, but started to ask questions, gather data, and figure out what was true or not.
In doing so, the mysterious woman's words finally quenched the flames of primal passion with the cool waters of reason. Reason once more took hold, although some people began to feel another sort of anger. Now the people who had lost loved ones to the terrorists in the bombing of Copernicus had actual faces to put to the deaths of their loved ones, and that anger that they had once felt towards the Coordinators now began to burn again, but not towards the Coordinators themselves. No longer were the people ruled by their primal passions and fears. Instead, they were governed by their higher reasoning and logic.
And that logic dictated they get angry towards the true rulers of their country.
LOGOs.
. . .
"Both Naturals and Coordinators have committed grave atrocities in both this war and the last. And each one was stoked by one man. One madman who strove to, like Blue Cosmos/LOGOs, wipe out humanity. Rau Le Creuset was the one behind it all. He stoked the fears of both Naturals and Coordinators, all because he saw how depraved humanity had become in his eyes. He was the direct result of Al da Flaga trying to create a perfect clone so he could pass on his inheritance to that clone, his 'true son' in every sense of the word. After learning of his heritage and existence, Rau descended into madness, seeking to annihilate both sides so he could die knowing that humans would never taint the Earth again.
"But he was wrong!
"Wrong in every sense of the word. He did not count on the Three Ships Alliance coming together and actually winning. Sure it was close, but it was not enough. If both sides had not been focused on killing one another over something as petty as genes, then they could have united and stopped the madman in his tracks by attacking and destroying GENESIS as one human race! It would have saved countless lives, maybe even millions! But instead, they fell to the passionate hatreds that Murata Azrael and Patrick Zala spewed, all at the direction of Rau Le Creuset!
"And even now his legacy still carries on in the hatred that he fomented through his manipulation of Murata Azrael and the rest of LOGOs! That hatred that he manufactured! And now, it's time! Time to end this once and for all!
"You've all seen the real faces behind the deaths of all your loved ones! You've seen them! You know who they are! They are the ones who ordered your brothers, fathers, sons, uncles, cousins to their deaths!They are the ones who are stripping away all rights! They are the ones who forced women out of the armed forces due to sexist beliefs that women are emotional and unable to be ruthless! Well, I say no to that! I am a woman, and I am far more ruthless than even their Ghost Squadrons!"
. . .
Chairman Durandal pursed his lips as he observed this woman speaking. He was quite surprised in all honesty. He had been expecting a grizzled male war veteran with a nasty scar going across his face, maybe with an eye patch and a prosthetic limb. He watched as she reached up to the mask on her face and removed it, revealing her true features for all to see.
The camera panned out to show her standing in front of a podium, and beside her were two other individuals, both of whom were shorter than her. She had a tank top on to expose her arms and shoulders. Across her shoulders she had a military top on, and it was opened up like a cape. The woman was an absolute Amazon, muscled and broad and powerfully built. Her entire body seemed to be made of pure muscle, and her hair was a shocking white color, while her eyes were a sea-green color. But those eyes reflected a keen intellect that belied years of combat experience, if the collection of scars across her exposed muscular arms and shoulders, as well as a burn on her left eye, revealed. She was a soldier through and through, he noted.
And not just that. She was a highly gifted intelligence operator, if what he knew was accurate. Smart, cunning, and powerful to boot.
. . .
"You know what this means now! It's time, everyone! It's finally fucking time to end this hold these men have had on us for close to a quarter of a century!
"It's time to end this war! It's time to reclaim what is rightfully ours!
"Time to break these chains, yokes, and collars they forced upon us! It's time to reclaim our country and values from them!
"As of right now, we, the United States of America..."
The United States of America's flag appeared on the screen beneath President Eisenhower.
"The United Mexican States..."
The flag of Mexico appeared as the first man limped forward, revealing Mexican resistance Commander Ibarra, now up and about on crutches.
"Canada..."
A second man came out, revealing a lanky soldier with intense green eyes and a thick mane of gray-black hair with the Canadian flag below him.
"The United Kingdom..."
The coat of arms of the House of Windsor appeared on the screen before it panned down to show the new Queen of the United Kingdom, Elizabeth Windsoria Dianthe, the Union Jack fluttering behind her.
"Ireland..."
The Irish flag flew into view as it panned down to show a woman in a military uniform holding an assault rifle, her blue eyes and brown hair contrasting with the grim look on her face.
"And Scotland..."
Beneath her the commander of Eilean Donan appeared, his eyes narrowed as he stood before the old castle, the Scottish flag fluttering on a flag pole beside him.
"...all have declared war on LOGOs!"
. . .
Djibril sputtered in disbelief as he heard those words. Those words that indicated his country was no more.
The unthinkable had finally happened.
His country was now in the throes of a civil war. One that was not supposed to have happened. Especially during this Crusade!
. . .
"We of the North Atlantic Security Alliance issue this declaration to all of LOGOs! You will surrender! There is no room for pleas, bargaining, or anything of that matter! We will, and when I say it, I demand it, get your unconditional surrender! Lawrence Djibril, you bastard son of incest, will be held accountable for your crimes against humanity and conspiring to enslave the human race to your sick endgame! All of you in LOGOs will pay for your crimes! Many of you will be castrated, and many of you will be executed. Your bloodlines will come to an end, and they will never come forward again!
"You have caused us all so much suffering... And you will pay for the damage done to our reputations abroad!
"This time... we will end Nazism once and for all!
"WE WILL SURVIVE AND WIN THIS WAR!"
The resistance commander's eyes were hard as she directed them at the camera, and Djibril swore she was looking right at him, staring deep into what passed for his soul. The last five words were enough to send shivers down his spine. And it was then he knew he was outmatched.
Everything he had done... had been undone by this woman. This... This... woman... was no mere doll. She was an insurgent operative, and she... had played him like a fool. He had been manipulated.
"So get ready, you bitch!"
. . .
DECEMBER 26th, CE 0073
President Eisenhower sat at her table, eyes fixed on the map showing the resistance's operations expanding outward. Her speech had had the desired effect, and she felt a sense of pride in having made a fool of Djibril.
Already she could see the forces breaching each LOGOs held city, and on the leftmost monitor she could already see several news feeds showing the fighting raging across the country. With civil war now raging, it was only a matter of time before she had to go out on the battlefield herself. And she was more than prepared.
'Finally...' she thought as she closed her eyes. '...after all this time... all the preparation... all the training... all those intense physical workouts... the sparring and marksmanship... all the years spent studying tactics and strategies, learning the ins and outs of black-ops...' Her eyes snapped open. 'It's all about to be put to the test.'
She finally placed both hands on the desk and got to her feet. She reached over and hit the power button, shutting down all five monitors before opening one of the desk drawers. She reached in and grabbed a small compact device before closing it up and turning, heading for the armory where she kept her signature weapon.
The President proceeded to unlock the door and she opened it, revealing a good-sized armory of guns and grenades. But she was not going for any ordinary gun. Situated at the very back of the armory was a single M60 machine gun, but one that had extensive modifications to account for her unique fighting style. The barrel was longer than the normal M60, and it had on it a bayonet mounting. The trigger was capable of folding back to act as a handle, and the stock was modeled after the M42's. Its magazine box was capable of being removed and a shorter belt could be fed into the gun for a more limited firing capacity.
This new variant of the M60 was called the M642. And Eisenhower had named it.
On the side of the stock was a single word.
Swordbreaker.
She hefted her gun and grabbed the bayonet that was hanging beside it. On the left side was a single Glock Model 17, chambered for 9x21mm rounds. A rarity in the world in the past, it was now somewhat more common in the Cosmic Era due to its longevity and its easy design. The resistance had been quick to procure a number of the blueprints, and they were able to make some modifications based on the needs of their forces, which, as it turned out, had to be reliable and easy to maintain and use, as well as easy to conceal.
She grabbed the pistol and slid it into a holster on her left thigh while she slid her machine gun onto her back before putting the bayonet in a sheath on her right thigh. A belt of ammo was next, slipped into a pouch on her waist. She draped the gun over her back using its strap before leaving the armory and closing the door behind her.
This was it.
The American Revolution had begun anew.
. . .
DECEMBER 22nd, 0073 CE
Three days.
That was how long it had been since Harold had confirmed the presence of Mihaly and his companions.
And that was how long the resistance had had to come up with a plan to get those guys out.
Three days wasn't enough time.
It just wasn't. But they had promised to get them all out in exchange for the information on Project: Iron Legion. And the resistance was not going to break their word. For what it was worth, the trio had needed no more prompting to prepare for the eventual escape.
Further across the lochs, the resistance was preparing to make their move.
Thankfully, there was a surprise in the form of one of the soldiers, and this one was someone the Atlantians were to not underestimate.
Captain John Price was a former SAS operative who had been discharged a few years ago due to his advanced age and the fact he was wounded in action during the First Bloody Valentine War. But he was in no way the old man that many assumed he was. He was still sharp, fit, and able to fight. His wounds had long since healed, and although they did cause him some aches on occasion, he was tough enough to endure it. His thick brown hair was starting to gray, and his facial hair was cut short for ease of maintenance. He was a huge man, standing at six feet in height, dwarfed only by the President and some select resistance fighters. But it was his experience in combat that outweighed hers.
He had been in the SAS for close to thirty years.
And it showed as he stood before the strike team as they assembled the necessary boats and gear for the attack. A trio of mobile suits stood by as well, and he had to admit the plan the resistance had conceived was brilliant.
By using the mobile suits as a distraction, the strike team could slip in unnoticed and get down to the lab where Mihaly and his team were being held. Then it was a simple matter of fighting their way back out to the extraction point, during which a snowmobile team would arrive and get them to safety across the country. But as the old military adage always said, no plan ever survived contact with the enemy.
The former SAS captain eyed the men and women under his command. Unlike the main infiltration team which consisted only of men, the strike team consisted of both men and women, with the women in key front-line positions alongside their male compatriots unlike in the past. This was the modern style of warfare LOGOs refused to acknowledge, let alone recreate. And as such, they were trapped in the days of Nazi Germany's heydays.
A snort escaped the sixty-five year old resistance general at the thought. Without even waiting an extra minute, he cleared his throat.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and faced him.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen!" he boomed. "This is it! The President has given her declaration, and therefore the revolution is now underway! Our friends across the pond have caused enough chaos with the first phase of Operation: Jailbreak, and it's our turn to really cause more chaos. Of course, the first phase is just cover for the second phase. While LOGOs and the other Atlantian news networks are showing the coverage of breakouts conducted by the NSA, their attention will not be focused on us. Just like Operation: Strikeout!"
People looked at one another and nodded as he continued. "Our mission is simple: extract Targets Alpha, Bravo, and Gamma from the base! Get them back to Eilean Donan for evac to Edinburg and the port! The USS New Jersey will be their escape route. Our goal is to get them there safely. No questions asked. Is that clear?"
"SIR, YES, SIR!" came the cry.
Price gave a firm nod before he grabbed his M4A1 assault rifle and slid a mag in before chambering one round. He glanced over at the men and women as the clatter of guns being locked and loaded reached his hearing.
"Pepper Force, roll out!"
. . .
DECEMBER 26th, 0073 CE
General Mackenzie Allen stood before her machine as she faced Dr. Rustal.
"Doctor, I can't thank you enough," she said, clasping his hand. "Your machine works wonderfully."
"It's only a prototype compared to what I really do," the man said softly. "But thank you."
The two shook hands before she turned and grasped her helmet from the table beside her. "And for what it's worth, I can only hope that you find the peace you seek," she added.
"I'll never find peace as long as LOGOs still exists..." Dr. Rustal muttered darkly, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. "I want them dead for what they made me do..."
"Same here," Allen said darkly. Her eyes hardened. "And speaking of, I think I'll be needed further north."
"Try more like a few hours from here," a third voice cut in.
The general turned to face the blonde woman as she approached, holding a sheaf of papers. "This just came in for you." Sayla Yamasaki handed the papers to her and Allen quickly looked them over.
"Orders to move to Portland, huh?" she muttered.
Sayla gave a nod. "Yeah. There's a LOGOs unit stationed close by, laying siege to the city. Despite the port still being open, it's only a matter of time before someone gets wind of the power plants and shuts them down."
Allen's eyes widened. "Wait. You think they could take the plants?"
The scientist nodded, her eyes narrowing into emerald shards. "That's what the Pres also thinks."
The general could now grasp the implications. If the power plants were seized, then LOGOs could shut down power to the city and eventually force the rebel garrison there to surrender for lack of heating, food, and necessities. That right there was a hassle, and it was something that had to be prevented, lest the Atlantians attain a foothold and split the ranks. To hold the ports was to deny them the means to send troops abroad, and they had to keep those forces isolated for as long as possible.
"So she wants me to go there and assist the garrison?" she asked.
Sayla nodded. "Yes. And the sooner the better."
Allen closed her eyes and sighed. "Well, no better way to test out the Strike Liberty Gundam through a real trial by combat." She opened her eyes and slipped on her helmet. A small twist later and it locked into place. She glanced to her machine. "All right. I'll do it."
Dr. Rustal nodded. "All right. Just remember that the Liberty Package is only a last resort escape option. If you are forced to use it, then we'll have no option but to rebuild your current machine from the ground up and reattach the fighter. It's not meant for fighting, either."
The general didn't even flinch. She merely grunted. "I remember," she admitted. "I'm not too big on it, but considering the circumstances, I'm not about to push my luck with that."
"Good." Dr. Rustal had a smile of relief on his face. "That's the last thing we need."
'And it may be just as well, considering what President Eisenhower wants from me...' Allen thought as she looked down at her clenched fists, eyeing the three stars on her uniform's left shoulder armor. 'I mean... she wants me to be one of her political advisors, and for a good reason. But... I can't help but feel there's another reason for it...'
Her musings were interrupted when she heard the alarm go off.
"Time for you to go," Sayla said. She jerked her thumb at the Gundam. "They need you. We can handle ourselves."
Allen looked up before nodding and getting into the cockpit from the gantry on which they stood. The general got into her seat and buckled in before closing the cockpit door. She grasped the controls and hit the power button, bringing the main cameras and all systems online. Her eyes darted about the readouts with a practiced eye; the simulators had given her a good idea of the layout of the machine's readouts.
'Okay... sensors, check... batteries, full power... engines at maximum... weapons armed and ready to go... Phase Shift Armor online... Clay rounds loaded... All good!' she thought.
Her eyes narrowed as she slowly, experimentally, moved her machine's limbs. The way they shifted felt a lot different than her NEMO, and it showed in the shuddering motion. She gasped and looked down, slowly bringing one hand up to the main optical cameras and, ever so slowly, turned it, flexing it and adjusting the limb. The power... was a lot more than her NEMO, that was for sure. The new EXCEED battery packs were truly state-of-the-art, and packed a lot more energy into a more compact version.
With that settled, Allen straightened herself out and squared her shoulders as the gantries and scaffolding holding her machine in the cradle swung away, with Dr. Rustal and Sayla giving salutes as the others assembled saluted as well. The hangar door began to slide open, exposing the snowy wonderland outside, and Allen grasped the controls with confidence.
"General Mackenzie Allen... heading out!"
. . .
TWO HOURS LATER...
PORTLAND, OREGON
The fighting was getting intense.
She could see it even from her altitude.
Allen had arrived just in time.
Beneath her she could see a number of Windams laying siege to the city from above. The anti-air defenses were doing their best to keep them at bay, but to no avail as the Windams were much faster and harder to hit than typical fighter craft. In fact, it was because of their humanoid shape that they could perform moves such as backflips and tumbles much more effectively.
But seeing as how she had arrived in the nick of time...
The general's eyes hardened as she gripped her machine's controls. "All right, Doctor. Time to put your new machine to the test!"
Her eyes narrowed as she swept her sensors over the battle below her. She could see a trio of custom-colored Windams, each being colored mostly black with brown trim and some orange on the arms and legs. A quick reading of those machines in the resistance database confirmed that they were one of the Ghost Squadrons, known as the Pumpkin Kings. She knew from reports that they relied on rallying others to their side to make up for their lack of experienced personnel. That was mostly due to the fact that the resistance always targeted them first and foremost due to their reputation as crusaders. And to demoralize their forces was always the best way to keep them from attacking consistently.
'Shit... The Pumpkin Kings...!' she thought. 'Of all the Ghost Squadrons, it had to be them!' she thought as she curled her lips into a snarl.
She glanced to her radio and scowled. 'Damn... not in range yet,' she groused. 'Guess I'll have to make my entrance in a way that will get their attention...'
Her gaze drifted towards the Clay Bazooka and she grabbed it, pulling it free from her machine's back skirt armor.
This was it.
She brought her machine to a hover and hefted the bazooka. She reached for one of the mags and slid it into the gun. After locking it into position, Allen linked the bazooka's sights to her machine's optics. A green targeting reticle appeared on her main display monitor and she brought the scope in her cockpit down in front of her right eye. She closed her left eye and let her mind focus on her chosen target.
She slowly breathed in and out, focusing on her breathing and target. She could feel her body becoming looser until she was at ease, hearing nothing but the steady roar of her machine's thrusters in the background. Only her heartbeat resonated prominently, and even then it slowly dulled.
Then she slowly pulled the trigger.
. . .
To say he was ecstatic was an understatement.
Adolf Heydrich was in pure bliss.
His eyes were wide as he slashed his Windam's beam saber clean through a resistance Dagger, and he let out a cry that could only be described as euphoric. He felt a surge of pulsing beneath his flight suit and he whirled his machine around, driving a Stiletto armor penetrator into an incoming tank. He pulled back as the device exploded and he landed his mobile suit, looking up as he spotted his wingmen.
He wasn't sure as to why the rest of the Ghost Squadron had much greater numbers than his, but he wasn't about to complain. As long as he could be with his lovers, who gave a shit? He cackled as he brandished his Windam's beam saber before charging towards a cluster of Daggers and GMs, their shields held at the ready and beam rifles aimed. His two wingmen let loose with their beam rifles, forcing the rebel machines to crouch down before returning fire. Beams flew across the no-man's land that had formed between them, with infantry trying to make their way across trenches carved by prior beam weaponry.
Of course, it was no chance of success if they couldn't get to the port. And since that was being blocked by the rebels, there was no way they could get reinforcements or supplies to those coming from the sea. It was their only option, and it was blocked. Beaches were out of the question due to the fact that the entire coast was firmly in the hands of the rebels.
It was a situation he was not happy with, but that was only a minor footnote to the ecstasy of battle that he felt surging through him.
His long blonde hair flew in every direction as he whipped his mobile suit to the left, spinning about and bringing his beam saber to bear once more. He glanced up, and his eyes narrowed as his sensors alerted him to something above him. He lifted his machine's helm up, and zoomed in on the mysterious object. The screen expanded it, and his eyes widened as he saw he was staring at a red, white, and blue mobile suit. But unlike the Gundams he had heard about and seen images of, this one was not nuclear-powered...
And in fact, the bazooka it held in one hand was completely gray in color. Only when the weapon was raised did the color shift to a darker shade of gray, close to black. An eyebrow quirked before the new machine's optics flashed and then the weapon it held belched once, sending a round his way.
Adolf didn't even hesitate as he charged in, a giddy cackle escaping him. "So, you wanna have some fun, don't ya?!" he chortled.
He swung his beam saber as he neared the round, only for his weapon to miss and his eyes widened as he realized he was finished.
Then pain and fire overcame him before he sank into oblivion.
. . .
Allen watched as the Windam plummeted to the ground below, smoke trailing from the gaping hole in its torso where her round had hit.
Already she could see the other two Windams circling, and she narrowed her eyes as she replaced the Clay Bazooka on her machine's back. She gripped the controls and in her mind's eye, she could already see the incoming strikes. If there was one thing she was not about to do, it was risk herself in a suicidal strike with two aces. Her best bet was to try and eliminate them one at a time. And already she had a vague idea on what she needed to do.
With that in mind, she focused on the feeling of fury within her, and in her mind's eye, she saw a hazel seed-like jewel spinning before shattering in a burst of light, a red ring surrounding it as it exploded. Her eyes became dilated and glazed over, her irises growing larger and her pupils shrinking. She had entered SEED Mode. Already she could see in her mind the way the Windam on the left was going to strike, and she pulled back on the controls, her Gundam moving back just as a beam rifle shot barely clipped the chest armor.
"You stupid frauline!" one of the pilots shouted over the radio.
"Says the Nazi," Allen muttered to herself under her breath. She wasn't answering or even responding to the calls, and that was enough to get one of them riled.
"I shall make you pay for zat!" the pilot bellowed. As he charged, she remained calm, bringing her beam saber up and grabbing the beam pistol on her side skirt armor. She brandished both weapons, waiting with the patience of a hunter.
The first pilot charged in, his beam saber humming violently as he swung it with both hands, but Allen brought hers up to block. The blades pressed against one another, sparks flying from the impact point before she shifted her machine's grip and slid her saber along his, shoving it to the side and jamming her pistol's barrel to the chest. She didn't even hesitate to squeeze the trigger, the armor taking three shots before the fourth one broke through and splattered gore all over the interior of the cockpit. She pulled the Strike Liberty Gundam back, and just in time as the last pilot dove down, a scream escaping him.
The general returned fire from her pistol, forcing him to back off. As he did so, she took the time to replace her beam saber and pistol in their respective spots.
This time, she didn't hesitate to activate the COMMs. "There is no future for your kind in this world!" she hissed, making him recoil in shock at the pure anger in her voice. The Windam pulled back as it came to a hover, just before her Gundam.
"You vere ze one zat killed my comrades... A voman!" he growled. "No frauline should be so callous!"
"Then you clearly are in delusion," Allen remarked. "Women and men are both capable of killing and being callous. There is no rule in nature that says men have to be the killers alone. Just look at some of history's most infamous female serial killers."
"Zat has no bearing on zis var!" the man screamed.
"It does. That alone shows how human men and women are. Both men and women can be killers. Not just men alone," Allen retorted, earning a spluttering from her opponent. She didn't even hesitate to grasp the Clay Bazooka and brought it up, the light on it flashing red. The man laughed.
"You really zink zat can stop me?" he chortled. "Your veapon is out of ammo!"
Allen didn't even answer. She merely pulled the trigger...
And a round fired from the barrel, making him gape in shock as it struck his machine, covering the entirety of its torso in that sticky goop that earned the round its name. The gelatinous goo trapped the Windam's arms to its sides, and it plummeted, a string of profanities flowing from the pilot as he fell, trying to break the goop. But to no avail. The Windam struck the ground and exploded, killing the last of the Pumpkin Kings.
And with that death, the first of the Ghost Squadrons had been eliminated.
. . .
DECEMBER 23rd, 0073 CE
The boats tore across the water, their engines revving and creating wakes behind them.
Captain Price narrowed his eyes as he sat in one of the boats, his gaze fixed on the base slowly growing in his vision. Already he could see the dock that lay on the coast, and he gripped the ropes tighter in his hand; the icy wind was already trying to sap his strength, but he ignored it.
The mission came first.
One of the infiltration team had slipped out after managing to locate the three hostages, and he was waving an infrared flashlight in the dark. The resistance SAS operative watched as he kept it up before the driver noticed and angled the boat to the dock. The other three followed suit, and behind them under the waters, the three mobile suits moved in their direction.
The four boats peeled left and right, allowing the mobile suits to move on ahead. The first one to jet out of the water was a resistance Dagger, flanked by two GMs. The three mobile suits landed on the base grounds, and at once alarms began to blare. Klaxons wailed and the Atlantian thugs began to move, swarming around inside the base and moving towards their own units to mobilize. Only six mobile suits guarded the base, but since they were backed up by tanks and APCs, it was going to be hard to hold their positions until the extraction took place.
But the resistance would do their damned best to get the trio out safely.
Behind him he could hear the GMs and Dagger opening fire with their beam rifles, striking the shielding for the base and causing the inhabitants to swarm out like ants, heading for the hangar bay to try and mobilize their six Windams. He shifted to look over his shoulder at the fight starting to rage, and he narrowed his eyes at the doors sliding open.
This was it. Either they won, or lost.
"Sir, we're coming back around!" the driver of the boat announced.
Price just grunted and grasped his rifle before ducking down lower to avoid crossfire if any of the Atlantians spotted them. The boat pealed back around, the rigid hull jostling the occupants like marbles in a sack. But the fact they were holding on tight indicated they were not about to go flying out into those frigid waters. Price shifted his gaze upwards and spotted a few stars flickering in the night sky. The new moon was perfect.
There was no way they'd be spotted with their attack.
Already one of the boats was tied to the dock and its passengers had disembarked, carrying their weapons and other necessities. Maps of the base had been downloaded to their smartphones so they could examine them. And all of them were equipped with NVGs to allow themselves to see better in the lower levels of the base. The other three boats, his included, pulled up alongside the dock and one of the women in front of his boat leapt out, landing on the dock and tying up their RHIB. The captain was the fourth one out, and already he had donned his own helmet and goggles.
He did a quick COMMs check and gave the thumbs up. His team returned it.
The group scrambled for the hills leading up to the base, and already there were soldiers prowling the perimeter. He gave a hand signal and the strike team plastered itself to the ground. One of the guards swept his light over the area, unaware of the sole female Marine creeping up behind him. A quick grab and a crack later, the man was dead. The woman waved a hand and the team scrambled to their feet, running for the side entrance leading inside.
Price was the first one to the door. He plastered himself alongside it and grabbed one of his tools, pulling out a small lockpick. He jabbed the end in and after some slight fiddling, the door lock clicked open and he grabbed the door before looking to one of his soldiers. He gestured with one hand to the security camera as it slowly pivoted. The man nodded and grabbed a small sphere before tossing it at the camera. The device latched onto the camera and a repeated recording loop began to be played in the main control room. The team waited a few seconds as the camera swept to their location, but no other alarms on this side of the base were triggered.
With their presence concealed for the moment, Price took the chance to pull the door open. The base's main interior lights were off, but red battle lamps lit up the area profusely. The men and women scrambled inside as the small jammer began to short and shut down. Price slammed the door shut as the camera's jammer fell off, landing in the grass and rolling downhill into the lochs below. Now that they were inside, Price gave a signal and everyone gathered around him.
. . .
Mihaly wasn't sure if he would even get out.
Being in a wheelchair and with two broken arms was a death sentence if he was caught.
Already Marius was pushing him out, and behind him came Chloe with all the data on several flash drives stowed in her lab coat's lining. His lone eye flicked left and right as the professor came to a stop at an intersection. The trio pulled back as a cluster of guards ran past, weapons held at the ready and flashlights sweeping about.
"Hm. Looks like they've made their move," the old ace muttered.
"Shhh!" Chloe hissed, grasping at her machine gun in her arms. She had stolen it after Marius had dispatched their guard with a well-placed shove that caved his skull in. She was no crack shot, but she was good enough to provide them some cover.
Marius peeked around the corner, his heart pounding like a shotgun in his chest. Beads of sweat were forming on his face and he licked his lips. He was scared. He was not one to admit being fearful sometimes, but this time he was. He was terrified out of his wits. Not only were they attempting to escape captivity, but at the same time they were absconding with key information on Project: Iron Legion, not only to try and delay it a bit longer, but also to give this resistance intel they so desperately needed to try and combat it.
He had never expected to be put into such a position. And now, here he was, basically committing sabotage.
He glanced down to Mihaly who was remaining as calm as he could, given his situation. The professor had to admire the old ace's courage under fire. To be as collected as he was something he envied about him.
"Just remain calm," Mihaly muttered, as if reading his mind. Marius had to keep from squeaking at that and took in a deep breath before letting it out. He opened his eyes and listened as the last of the guards' footsteps vanished into the depths of the base.
Chloe took the chance to peek out and gave a nod. "All clear!" she hissed.
The trio broke out into the corridor, running as fast as they could go. Marius was panting as he pushed Mihaly's wheelchair as hard as he could. He was nowhere near as athletic as he could have been, but the surge of adrenaline was enough to keep him going. He pushed aside the exhaustion as it began to creep up on him. Chloe was leading now, her gun held in front as she slid to a stop and peered down two corridors.
"No sign of enemies," she remarked softly. "We're good!"
The trio continued on, pushing past their pain and exhaustion.
Only to come across another squad of guards.
Marius's heart fell deep into his stomach at this. "Oh... fuck..."
"HOLD IT! STOP RIGHT THERE!" one of the guards shouted.
Chloe opened fire with her stolen gun.
The guards let out exclamations as they ducked behind the walls of another corridor and Marius looked to her. "GO!" she screamed. "I'll be right behind you!"
The professor didn't want to leave her behind, but he also knew they had to get out. The guards started to return fire, and at once the two men wheeled around and headed down the way they had come. Chloe followed behind them, and Marius skidded Mihaly around another bend to an open corridor that intersected with a parallel hallway. The trio burst into the empty corridor and resumed their path to the main entrance, where they were supposed to meet with both the strike and infiltration teams for their escape.
They kept going, only this time they emerged from the corridor right into a nest of vipers.
More guards were blocking their path.
Mihaly growled as Chloe gripped her gun and Marius frowned. There was no way they'd be able to get past this group, and when coupled with the men behind them, they were in a no-win scenario.
They were going to die if someone didn't come to their aid.
"Well... guess this is it..." Mihaly rumbled.
"Oh, I beg to differ!" a new male voice exclaimed. "GET DOWN NOW!"
The trio blinked before Marius suddenly grabbed Mihaly and shoved his wheelchair to the side as he pulled the old ace out and down to the ground as Chloe sprawled out shortly after, and just in time too. A barrage of bullets cut through the air just centimeters above their heads, stitching into the floor and the guards' legs. A number went down with shattered kneecaps and some with groin shots and gut shots. A good chunk of those with gut shots had their intestines spilling out, and Marius felt his stomach lurch at the sight. He struggled to keep from vomiting as he looked to the shadowy corridor to the left, and his eyes widened as he stared at a large number of attackers coming from the shadows.
All of them wore dark gray body armor and suits, with night vision goggles and masks covering their faces, and one of them was carrying the old M4A1 assault rifle. He apparently was the leader, if the way he clenched his fist was any indication. As soon as he made that gesture, the guns fell silent, leaving only the moans and screams of the Atlantian guards the only sound filling that intersection.
The man turned to the trio and lifted up his goggles, exposing a pair of clear blue eyes, and a thatch of thick brown hair splattered with gray. "You three okay?" he asked.
"Y-Yes..." Chloe gasped. "Thank you for saving us, mister..."
"Price. Captain John Price," the man said. "I was informed you were hostages here. But clearly you took the chance to break out yourselves."
"We are... were hostages," Marius remarked. "We did bust out, but only because we couldn't wait any longer."
Price pursed his lips as he looked them over. "I assume you have key intel secreted somewhere?"
Chloe nodded as she staggered to her feet, still holding her gun. "I do. It's all in my lab coat..." she muttered, feeling sick to her stomach from the stench.
"Good." Price held up his rifle and gestured with it. "C'mon. We got no time to waste. Our goal is to get you out ASAP."