"The ideal fortress is not one that simply offers the perfect defense against attackers, but also the perfect sanctuary to its defenders."
- Treize Khushrenada

Chapter IV: Juno

Zeon Rewloola-class battlecruiser Ralmel
Warp
June 18, GC 379

"I have to say this was not what I was expecting from you, Char." the gruff, authoritative voice over the vidfeed held a certain level of bemusement despite the circumstances. "Not only did you fail to capture the new Feddie prototype, but you also managed to get most of your task force destroyed from under you. And if that wasn't bad enough, you're now telling me the Ralmel has taken so much damage you cannot maintain pursuit, not that you could do anything with your mobile suit force wiped out."

The eyes that stared across the screen narrowed, though they weren't enraged. "Not exactly your finest hour Commander."

"In my honest opinion, Admiral, we were unprepared from the beginning," Char declared, maintaining his unwavering gaze on the other man's face, which remained concealed by his mask. "The original report led us to believe that the Federation only had one prototype and that Antillia was defended only by a rear line garrison. Instead, we were faced with three prototypes and a Lexington-class fleetcarrier, which holds a carrying capacity nearly double that of my task force's combined allotment, serving as their transport. And let's not forget, this is the very same ship that was believed to have sunk at Arcturus, a claim I never believed."

Char's respectful tone did not diminish the intensity of his gaze, which quickly matched that of the man on the screen. "Overall, Admiral, this entire mission was far from what I was told to expect. Had I and the rest of my staff been properly briefed, my strategy and execution would have been significantly different."

An arched eyebrow was the other man's response. "Don't tell me you're trying to deflect your responsibilities, Char."

"I'm not. As the mission commander, the responsibility for its success or failure remains with me. I am merely pointing out the external elements that contributed to its failure," Char replied without hesitation. "Even so, if you wish to hold me solely accountable, I understand, sir."

That only earned him a laugh from the man with the scarred visage. "If I do that, there'll be riots from here to Paulus over how the Red Comet was unceremoniously discharged. And then there would be the dressing down I would receive from His Majesty over such a scandal."

At that explanation, Char allowed himself to smirk. "Are you saying I'm invaluable, Admiral?"

Thus came another booming laugh from Grand Admiral Dozle Zabi, Commander of the Imperial Space Force. Taking a moment to straighten his personalized green and gold, spike-shouldered uniform, which had become somewhat wrinkled from his rising bouts, he looked at Char with even greater bemusement. "I'm saying you are not easy to get rid of."

Char stifled a chuckle himself, if only for the irony in that. "I'll take that as a compliment, sir."

"Heh," Dozle replied simply before considering. "Still, I suppose the mission wasn't a total loss. Instead of a prototype, you gained valuable data on the Feddies' new toys. Perhaps Zeonic or Zimmad will be able to use it. At the very least, we know what we're up against now."

"To some degree, anyway," Char responded with seriousness. "I wouldn't be surprised if we haven't seen their full potential yet."

Dozle nodded with some disposition before changing the subject. "Where are they headed?"

Char brought up a stellar atlas on another terminal, which he also transferred for Dozle to see. "Going by the course they held before we lost track of them, I believe they're aiming toward the Juno system. It also helps Juno, the nearest Federation base in this sector."

"Juno?" Dozle replied, again raising an eyebrow. "That's one hell of a coincidence. Admiral Delaz is mounting for an offensive there."

Now it was Char's turn to look peculiar. "If I may, sir, I thought Admiral Delaz was leading our forces in the Masada Sector. When was he recalled?"

"Not too long ago, and under the Emperor's direct orders; in fact, the entire operation was put together by His Majesty," Dozle replied grimly, trying to hide his obvious displeasure at his older brother going around him in a military matter. He failed, but Char ignored it. "I can only guess what his aim is."

Char had a hunch himself but decided not to voice it. "I do not question the directions of my superiors, especially His Majesty."

Dozle smirked a little. "Good Char. Keep that attitude, and you'll make it through the universe or at least Zeon's bureaucracy. And on that note, where will you fix up the Ralmel?"

Char again consulted his atlas. "Elisha seems to be the closest for us. It's remote, but I think the drydock there can handle a Rewloola. And it will also allow us to regain pursuit when repairs are completed."

The Grand Admiral narrowed his gaze again. "That's assuming your quarry survives Delaz's dagger thrust."

"Oh, they will survive, Admiral." Char flashed a knowing grin. "Call it...a premonition."

Dozle grinned back. "Well, if the Red Comet says so, then who am I to disbelieve?" he returned to business. "In the meantime, I'll make sure Elisha is ready to receive you and send you some new Zakus and pilots. If you fight those three again, you'll need all the suits you can get."

Char again nodded in acknowledgment. "Thank you, sir." he then replied after a brief pause. "Is there anything else you need of me?"

The Admiral thought for a moment. "No, that pretty much covers it, Char. I'll let you get back to keeping your ship afloat." he then gave a sly glance. "Do try not to break it any further."

The Red Comet wisely ignored the sting in that. "I'll do what I can, sir. Ralmel out," he stated before signing off. He then turned and quickly exited his quarters, walking toward the bridge.

As he went, his mind again dwelled upon that ship and those three mobile suits, who were now seeking haven in Juno, where they would soon find themselves caught in an even worse battle than he had given them. That brought to mind one rookie pilot who flew the mobile suit marked Alpha alongside Artesia. How would either of them fair in what was to come?

And yet Char found himself smiling at those thoughts. Both will survive. If nothing else, I have no doubts about them.


Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
System X-145

Fraw was still floating aimlessly in the darkness and weightlessness of her assigned quarters when her ears suddenly picked up activity from outside. At first, she chose to ignore it; after all, whatever happened on this ship, short of a dire emergency and a call to abandon, was hardly any of her concern. She wasn't even one of the crew, just a refugee tagging along for the ride to Earth. Yet a moment later, she rethought her decision and, if only for curiosity's sake, floated toward her doorway and opened it.

"Damn it, we're losing him!" one of the two grey-uniformed crewmen shouted as they pushed along a hover stretcher. A hovering stretcher held another one of their numbers, who was covered with some of the worst second and third-degree burns Fraw had ever seen. Immediately, the crewman who shouted the proclamation began to administer a drug, likely adrenaline, to the nearly dead man. At the same time, the other continued to push the stretcher along, likely toward the sickbay.

"What the?" Fraw exclaimed, quickly exiting her quarters and letting the door shut. Her troubles forgotten momentarily, she matched the two men's pace and followed them from a fair distance, going down the hallway until she watched them come up to another doorway, one appropriately marked "Sickbay" at the top and holding the ancient Red Cross upon its two doors. From there, Fraw watched as the door opened and the two would-be corpsmen entered; all the while, the sounds of frantic cries and pained exhalations echoed from beyond. Just from those two distinct sounds alone, Fraw realized something was dangerously wrong, and it was that realization that drove her to move to the door, which automatically opened upon her approach.

She expected to see the commotion on the other side. Instead, she was greeted by nothing short of desolation itself. "My...God...!"

The smell reached her first: the unmistakable stench of burned flesh, smoke, chemicals, and pharmaceuticals. All of it mixed to produce a unique blend of stench, one that could only be described as "death." Beyond that, the scene before she looked and sounded just as bad; nearly every space in the sickbay was covered with a body of some kind, all of which were covered in burns, bruises, and cuts. Some were burned to almost literal cinders, while others were bleeding on some level, and even more were unconscious or having trouble breathing. And even more were dead.

However, what took Fraw back the most was a certain key fact: in addition to the very few able-bodied corpsmen going around and looking after the wounded, there was no higher-up medical staff present—no nurses, no doctors. Everything was being handled by the corpsmen, who looked overwhelmingly frantic and unsure of what they were doing.

Suddenly, one of the wounded in near Fraw, a kid crewman in a badly burned uniform, began to spasm, eyes slowly closing. Instantly, the machines monitoring him began to beep with utmost urgency.

"Code Blue!" someone shouted, another ancient term carried over to the Galactic Century, signaling that the patient was quickly going into cardiac arrest. He and two others quickly moved to the crewman but, as Fraw expected, were unsure how to handle the situation. All the while, the crewman's condition became worse.

Fraw moved to the bed. "What do we have?" she demanded.

"Seventeen-year-old, severe burns and lacerations!" one of the corpsmen answered without taking time to consider who he was talking to. "BP's 60/20, pulse is wavering!"

Taking that knowledge in, Fraw consulted the monitor over the man's bed. "He's flatlining! Infusers and point-four atropine, now!"

Again, without thinking, the corpsmen produced a pair of metal rods with flat circles at the ends. Fraw took them and, after the corpsmen ripped off the remnants of the kid's once grey uniform, applied them to his chest.

"Clear!" she shouted, sending an electrical pulse through the kid's body. The monitor remained unchanged, as did the whine they emitted.

"Clear!" Fraw repeated, applying the infusers once more. This time, the whine ended, and the monitors displayed a heartbeat. It wasn't much, but much to Fraw's appreciation, the kid's heart was beating again.

"Atropine!" she called out. Again, to her call, one of the corpsmen produced an injector, which Fraw took and applied. A few breath-holding moments later, the monitor displayed the kid's heart rate reaching normal levels. He was okay, at least for the time being.

But Fraw was far from done. "What the hell is going on here!? Where's your Chief Medical Officer!?"

Still reeling from what had happened, the corpsmen again answered without considering the one asking. "He's dead! Got killed in the Zeek attack!"

"And the rest of the medical staff!?" she continued.

"Most are dead! The rest of us are only corpsmen and volunteers!" the same guy answered, finally blinking as he realized a civilian was talking at him. "Who are you!?"

Fraw looked at all three of them coldly. "As you can see, I'm a doctor! The only doctor, apparently!" she stated, then looked around. "Does this ship have an OR?"

"Yes!" came a reply, directing toward a nearby pair of doorways to the side, one labeled "Operating Room" and the other "Sterilization."

Fraw would have slapped her head for missing either in her haste, but there was much better use of her time. "Prep it! And get some volunteers for the nursing staff!"

"You think you can save them?" one of the corpsmen again inquired, speaking out for the three. At the same time, however, certain hope began to emerge between them.

Fraw paused for a very short moment to consider that, looking around her. Yes, she was likely in over her head, a small colony doctor taking on the responsibilities of military physicians, but at the moment, she was the only one capable. If nothing else, however, it gave her renewed purpose, something that she dearly needed in the wake of all that had happened.

And above all of it, it's what her parents would have wanted of her.

"I don't know, but I will try. Now get to it!" Fraw replied, again moving toward Sterilization while the three dispersed to their new assignment.


Amuro Ray was not in the best of physical conditions. Even after he had awoken from his blackout in the Ark Royal's hangar, his head still painfully rung from his fight with Aznable while he felt pain in parts of his body he hadn't known to exist before. It had taken quite a bit of effort for him to climb out of Unit Alpha's cockpit, even more, to float toward a nearby turbolift without drifting off, and even more effort to keep himself standing when the turbolift moved into the Ark Royal's artificial gravity zone. He was still trying to figure out how he managed to get himself to the changing room, strip off his normal suit for his uniform, and then make his way to the mess hall for a late dinner, where he was in the present.

At least I'm still in one piece, hethought as he went down the line with his tray, the cooks piling on pieces of Aurelian chicken, rice, and various vegetables along the way. As Amuro gazed at the food, his stomach grumbled, making him realize how long it had been since lunch and how time flies when Cyclopean death machines were shooting at you.

After getting his food, Amuro spent the next few moments searching for an open table. A good portion of the crew was having chow as well, and thus, table space was few and far between. After a minute or so of semi-dazed searching, he finally found an open space and something that made him raise an eyebrow: an indent on the metal table right next to the space where he intended to sit down.

That's different. He thought as he placed his tray down and then took a moment to look at the indent. It wasn't particularly large or anything, but it seemed rather peculiar due to its size and smoothed edges. From these details, it seemed like a fist had caused the gash, yet Amuro couldn't imagine anyone on the Royal holding the physical strength to make it, even if thoroughly enraged. Especially when these tables were pure steel and could likely withstand a mobile suit foot stomping on them.

He was so curious about the gash and who made it, but Amuro didn't notice someone coming up behind him. "You son of a bitch!"

Upon that call, Amuro instinctively turned around, only to watch as a fist slammed into his face and knocked him back, stumbling. Quickly recovering from the shock, as well as realizing that was the second time he had been hit that day, Amuro let out a growl and moved to strike his attacker, a shorter man with black hair, slanted eyes, and the markings of an Ensign on his uniform. Fortunately or unfortunately, several arms reached out and held him and his would-be opponent back before the real fight could begin.

"What the hell was that for!?" Amuro barked at the Ensign as he violently thrashed out of the arms' grasp. He immensely hated being touched.

"For Daniel!" the other man roared back with clear intent. "You killed him, you bastard!"

"Are you nuts, Hayato!?" another Ensign with dark grey hair and lazy-looking eyes stepped in. "This guy's a Lieutenant, remember!?"

"Back off Kai! Lieutenant or not, he's still a fuck up!" Hayato glowered, his eyes burning into Amuro's, who winced at the pure rage he felt the Ensign emanating. "Because of him, Aznable broke through and killed Daniel and the others!"

Amuro's rage again got the better of him, but the arms reached out again to keep him from attacking. "What are you talking about!?" he growled back as he shook the arms off of him again. "I kept Aznable back..."

"Not long enough!" Hayato bellowed in return. "After you were knocked out, he managed to get back into the fight! My friend is dead because of it! Because of you!"

"That's...!" Amuro stammered, trying to find a response in light of his rage and confusion.

"Why the hell did the Commander pick you!?" Hayato let on, almost in hysteria. "It should have been...!"

"That's enough, Ensign Kobayashi!" barked a new voice, causing everyone to turn and watch as a now quite displeased Sayla Mass entered the scene, quickly coming between Amuro and Hayato while staring down the Ensign. Again, Amuro felt certain pressure emanate from the fellow Gundam pilot. "Back down, and I promise I will forget this whole affair."

Hayato looked as though he was about to combust spontaneously. "You're defending this guy, Lieutenant!?" he shouted incredulously. "After what happened to Daniel and the others!?"

"Ensign Schoenberg was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the others were just as unlucky," she stated, eyes narrowing further. "Lieutenant Ray held out against Aznable as long as necessary, and we completed the mission because of it. There's no more to it than that."

The Ensign responded by gritting his teeth. "With respect, ma'am, that's not good enough...!"

"It is 'good enough,' Ensign, and you will do well to realize it," Sayla stated, her voice suddenly becoming harder as she added. "Don't think you're the only one who's lost something in this war."

At that, Amuro felt several images flash into his mind: an exploding shuttle, a man disappearing in said explosion, soldiers storming some mansion and killing off anyone they came across, a boy with similar features to Sayla holding out his hand. All intertwined with a similar pain and loss that he had felt from Hayato, only far, far more potent.

Fortunately, the images quickly passed; Amuro promptly shook his head and began to speak again. "Look," he said, regaining attention from Hayato and the rest. "I'm sorry about your friend, I am..."

Just like he had done with Fraw before, Amuro took a moment to consider his words, yet he still had no idea how to go about them. Human emotions, as usual, were beyond him. "But regardless, I don't understand why you blame me for his death. It was Aznable who killed him, not me!"

That only seemed to drive Hayato over the edge, and once more, Amuro winced at his rise in anger. "If you're going to say that, you son of a bitch, then I'll make you understand...!"

With newfound strength, the Ensign quickly broke out of his hold and again raised his fist to strike Amuro. Amuro instinctively broke his right arm away and raised to block, but before he could, Sayla moved in and intercepted the fist with her clenched hand.

All at once, the atmosphere in the room seemed below freezing as nearly everyone watched in a mixture of anxiety and awe; even Amuro could only gaze. It was quite a sight to behold, the enraged Hayato attempting to drive his fist into its intended target, only to be held back by the seemingly emotionless Sayla, who stared back into the attacker's eyes with an unaffected nature. Throughout, it seemed as though that scene was locked in time as if decades would pass before one side would finally give up, or at least until a higher-ranking official would show up and break it all up.

Yet amidst the spectators, only Amuro noticed that despite Hayato's rage and great strength (being a mobile suit pilot and all), Sayla had no issue holding back his fist. Her hand was not trembling from the tension; it seemed to be completely locked in place, and nothing Hayato did could break its iron hold. This seemed to be reflected in Sayla's gaze, which Amuro couldn't see completely, but he could tell from his eyes and other senses that the female ace was not exerting any real effort to keep the Ensign at bay. All the while, Hayato was expounding large amounts of energy, trying to force his way past her, such that sweat was beginning to pour from his forehead.

With sudden, chilling realization, Amuro partially turned and again looked back on that table's indent.

"Back down," Sayla repeated, her voice now sounding firm and hollow as if it had taken on an echo while certain fury began to build behind her eyes. "Now."

As those words spoke out, Amuro felt what could only be described as a wave of pure will wash over him, Hayato, and everyone else in the room, though again, he was the only one who could identify it. No sooner than this occurred that the Ensign's eyes widened. His initial wrath was quickly replaced with fear and caution as if suddenly realizing he was trying to take on something bigger and far more powerful than himself. Only then did he stop his attempted attack while Sayla unclenched her hand and allowed her fellow pilot to withdraw his fist. One was also quick to note how Hayato was now breathing heavily and suddenly incapable of looking Sayla in the eye.

For her part, Sayla only seemed to regard her subordinate with her usual stoic nature, projecting neither satisfaction at her "putting him in his place" nor the earlier displeasure at his behavior. However, while watching her, Amuro could easily detect something more lurking underneath the surface.

Lowborn weakling. Sayla thought disgustedly at her subordinate's now broken form, knowing there were more like him on "her side" than on the other. It's no wonder the Federation is losing this war.

"Lieutenant Ray report to the Captain. Lieutenant Ray report to the Captain." a female voice rang out over the PA system, as if purposely timed to defuse the situation.

At that, Sayla momentarily closed her eyes to let the tension drain before turning to face a still bewildered Amuro. "You better get moving. Captain Noa does not like to be kept waiting long."

After a few blinks of his eyes, Amuro quickly snapped out of his trance and hesitantly nodded toward the other Gundam pilot. "Ah...yeah. Sure," he said before stepping around her, Hayato, and the rest, all of whom were still taken back by what they had witnessed, to make his way toward the entryway.


Yet again, Bright felt the ship rumble from underneath him, much to his growing annoyance. He didn't know whether it was due to Mirai running into an asteroid or the said asteroid running into the ship itself, but each time it occurred, it was enough to jolt him with the rest of the Royal. And following that, Bright could not keep himself from holding his breath as he waited for the damage report to come calling in the intercom. Fortunately, this had only occurred twice over the trip, and the damage had been light each time, but it didn't stop him from dreading the worst.

This was certainly not one of my best strategies. He thought as he silently waited for the call to come in. Thankfully, it didn't, so Bright could continue reading Sleggar's mission log on his terminal. At least until he heard the door beep, signaling that the one he had been waiting on had finally arrived. "Enter."

At that, the door slid open, and the man he knew as the test pilot for Gundam Unit Alpha entered the room and stood at attention before the desk. "Lieutenant Amuro Ray reporting as ordered, sir."

Bright looked up and immediately studied the young pilot, comparing it to the image he saw back at Antillia. Indeed, Lieutenant Ray looked every bit a youth, such that even his dark grey uniform did nothing to give him the aura of a soldier, much less an officer. If anything, Bright would have guessed Amuro was a college student or even a civilian engineer long before he would have thought of him as a pilot. And he definitely would never have believed he was the test pilot of an advanced next-generation prototype, with or without his blood relation to Tem Ray.

This is the boy who gave Zeon such a hard time? Bright wondered to himself as he continued to look the junior Lieutenant over. If nothing else, there was that accomplishment to speak of the boy's qualifications as a pilot.

For his part, this was the first time Amuro had seen the Ark Royal's captain, and so he was quite surprised at the encounter. In his opinion, Bright Noa seemed far too young to be the captain of a warship, a bridge officer, or maybe even an XO, but not a captain. Sure, he dressed like a captain, wearing the traditional greatcoat that proudly bore a Commander's double stripes and twin diamonds on blue rank tabs and retaining the equally traditional commissar cap over his head. Besides those, he certainly held the commanding presence necessary for a leadership position, which Amuro could have detected even without his powers. But despite all that, there was just something about the opposite man's form that made Amuro think he was promoted five or ten years earlier than he should have been.

This is the guy they sent to retrieve the Gundams? Amuro thought as he looked directly into the captain's eyes without flinching. If nothing else, Amuro did give Bright that much; the young captain managed to get his ship and its contents well away from Antillia and the Zeon, at least so far.

For a moment, it seemed both ship captain and mobile suit pilot would only continue to stare at each other until the other submitted to the superior will. And then, all of a sudden, Bright began to speak. "I've read your record, Lieutenant," he stated, gesturing toward the datapad again. "And I must say it's quite… colorful. I've never seen so many reprimands and reports of insubordination and unbecoming conduct in one place before."

Amuro only remained silent. Bright nodded to himself; he passed the first test. "I can only imagine why you haven't been drilled out of the service, whether it's because you're Tem Ray's son or because you're of some actual value to Project V. Either way, I don't care."

At that point, Bright stood up, revealing that he was slightly taller than the Gundam pilot. "What I do care about is you're on my ship now, so I'm going to be very clear: as long as you're here, you will act in a manner befitting of a Federal officer. You will follow any orders I or my command staff will give you, carry yourself with restraint in all interactions with my crew, and make every effort to avoid personal conflicts and outbursts."

The intensity of Bright's gaze only raised at the indirect challenge he gave to the young Lieutenant, but again, Amuro remained silent and straightforward. "As long as you're aboard the Ark Royal, these conditions will be observed to the letter; if you do not agree, you can get off my ship and take your chances in the void. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Amuro replied automatically.

Bright nodded, satisfied. "Good, at ease then," He stood up, datapad in hand. "I've also read Commander Law's report of the latest mission. It's an impressive read in itself. You're probably the first Earth pilot to go up against the Red Comet and come back in one piece, if not alive altogether."

"Only because Aznable didn't finish me," Amuro replied dryly.

"Perhaps, but you're still alive, and regardless of your status as a test pilot, you have some skill to complement the Gundam's capabilities," Bright summarized before taking a breath. "For that reason, you are now assigned to this ship's Carrier Assault Group, under Commander Law's direct command."

Amuro practically double-took at that order. "Excuse me, sir?"

"You heard right, Lieutenant. I am putting you on active combat duty until we reach Earth." Bright replied. "I'm also assigning you to instruct Commander Law and Lieutenant Mass in piloting Unit Beta and Unit Gamma."

"But sir..." Amuro stammered but managed to keep his voice even. Bright had to give him some credit there, as he was already observing the 'no outburst' rule. "I'm a test pilot! I fight mock battles against drones, not actual battles against Zakus! Until a few hours ago, I had no real combat experience."

"That is irrelevant. Right now, I need every advantage I can get; it's a long way from here to Earth, and the Zeon will not give up their pursuit so easily," Bright explained with hard, realistic grimness filling his tone of voice. "Especially since we just beat back one of their best aces."

Amuro grit his teeth, but again kept his tone of voice in check. "Was this Commander Law's idea, sir?"

"That is also irrelevant," Bright answered sharply. "Once more, as long as you're on this ship, you will follow my orders to the letter, no matter what personal issues you may take with them."

His eyes quickly bore their way back into the junior officer's. "Feel free to hate me for it, but that's how it will be."

For the first time, Amuro's eyes leered. "Exactly how long until we reach Earth?"

That one made Bright laugh a little on the inside; contrary to popular belief, he did have a sense of humor. Outwardly, however, he remained impassive. "To be bluntly honest, Lieutenant, I could not tell you. It could be anywhere from weeks to months, perhaps even a year, depending on how many course corrections and stops we will inevitably make. And that's not including encounters with the enemy."

Again, he posed another indirect challenge. "Either way you look at it, Lieutenant, you're stuck with us for a while unless command were to transfer you to another ship."

To put it lightly, Amuro would have given anything to lay this ship captain out on the deck; Bright Noa was an even bigger jerk than his last commander. Even so, he again restrained himself. "I understand, sir."

At that, Bright nodded. Amuro Ray might not have been the recruiting poster type, but at least he wasn't entirely insubordinate. Not that it mattered to Bright since he would be Sleggar's responsibility from now on. "Very well. Dismissed."

With that, Amuro made one last salute, which Bright responded to on his own, and promptly got out of there.


"Pity the tragic, pitiful, and all they left behind. Nothing is left from what we find. Have we gone too far? In the middle of nowhere... Fire in the sky... Fade into darkness... All you want is to be free...!" Sleggar sang absently as he waited, leaning up against the sidewall of the deck. Much to his dismay, the meeting was taking longer than he thought, so it was all he could do to pass the time, at least, without having to walk back to his quarters and retrieve his music player.

Fortunately, he did not need to wait much longer. Soon enough, the doors to Bright's office opened, and Amuro made his way out rather hurriedly as well. He took a few more steps before noticing Sleggar leaning against the wall, clearly waiting for him. "Is there something you need, Commander?" Amuro spoke with certain agitation.

Sleggar only took it in his usual manner: with a smirk. "That's a rather terse way to address your new commanding officer. We'll have to work on that."

That only served to irritate Amuro even more. "I don't have time for this," he said as he moved to walk past. However, he was quickly stopped when Sleggar reached out, which kept him from going.

"For what it's worth, Lieutenant, I sympathize with you." Sleggar continued. "Until today, there wasn't any need for you to fight; you did your part for the Federation simply by testing out those machines so that people like me could use them in the future. I respect that, just as I understand your hesitance to fight, as we all have that."

Sleggar cast a knowing glance as Amuro turned to face him. "Even so, there are times when we all have to step up for the cause. It just so happens today was your turn."

"Easy for you to say. You've been doing this a lot longer than I have." Amuro replied flatly, though he didn't step further. "I never wanted any part of this war; as far as I care, the Federation's problems with Zeon aren't mine."

"I bet they weren't that girl's either, you know, the one you had Sayla bring aboard." Sleggar pointed out, causing Amuro's expression to falter. The Commander saw that as progress. "That's the funny thing about war; it's started by politicians and fought by soldiers, yet it always sucks in those who were not originally involved."

Amuro had to think hard to come up with a response. "I already killed the bastard that did that to Fraw's parents. I even made sure he died screaming," he said, remembering Zeek's end with a certain relish. "And from there, I fought Aznable and nearly died," he said, looking Sleggar square in the eye. "Wasn't that enough?"

Sleggar shook his head. "Not by a long shot, Lieutenant. It's one thing to fight the Zeeks and survive and another to fight and dominate. You did the latter against several of them, including one of their top aces; that makes you an invaluable asset to the Federation and a grave threat to the Empire."

The force between his gaze increased greatly. "So whether you like it or not, you're completely involved now."

The Lieutenant could only step back a bit in response, finding no words to say at first. He then looked away, now unable to meet the Commander's sight and in near despair. "I'm not a warrior!" he muttered, looking down as he felt overwhelmed again. "This wasn't...!"

Sleggar nodded in understanding as he folded his arms. "I think we can both agree that if God possesses one constant habit, He always sends us places we never wanted to go."

Suddenly, Amuro felt another set of peculiar images flash into his mind. The first was that of a smiling young man dressed in a green jumpsuit and holding a black and blue enflamed helmet of some sort, standing in front of a strange folded winged fighter craft alongside several others in similar outfits, with one, a woman with black hair and slanted eyes, standing directly beside him. Following this was an image of a massive dogfight involving one of those straight-winged fighters, bearing a striped star roundel, going against several swept-wing fighters, all bearing red star roundels.

After that, a landing accident involving a fighter crashing upon a flight deck followed; this led to the pilot being placed on life support in an archaic hospital room while doctors consulted, claiming that he would not live in passing whispers. Then it shifted to the image of the still heavily wounded pilot, now placed into a chemical tank of some kind and wired throughout, being lowered into a storage chamber (for lack of a better description), disappearing into obscurity. Amuro himself could depict the words "UNITED STATES NAVY" written on the side of the tank.

Amuro looked up with wide eyes and shock almost instantly, while Sleggar just looked on, now having adopted a far more serious expression. His smirk returned after the moment passed, however. "Well, now that everything is established..." he began. "I suggest you get some rest, as you'll need it. At 0800 tomorrow, we will do some sims with the Gundams."

Amuro nearly blanched. "But you said..."

"I said, sympathizing with you. I didn't say I was letting you off the hook." Sleggar stated. "Like it or not, you have officially become my bitch. Don't think I won't make the most of it."

The Lieutenant opened his mouth to protest again, but Sleggar stopped him. "And on that note, through a strange twist of fate, there just happens to be an opening in my unit now. One that you and Unit Alpha will fit nicely into; despite your amateur status, you possess great talent in killing Zeeks, and I pride myself in having an eye for that kind of talent." again, he smiled, this time dominantly. "So congratulations, Lieutenant Ray. As of now, you're a member of Shrike Squadron."

The look Amuro quickly adopted spoke volumes of appreciation. "One of these days..."

"Yes, yes, perhaps. In the meantime, though, we've got serious work between your instructing Lieutenant Mass and me on the Gundams and my getting you broken into the squad." Sleggar stated before turning around. "So again, better rest up, Lieutenant, because you're busy tomorrow."

The Commander trotted away, again singing Andrew Kotzen's "Soldiers of Sorrow" to himself. He also completely ignored the growing rage that was emanating from him.


Zumberg Palace
Zumberg, Zeon, Zeon Empire
June 30, GC 379

Set at the farthest reaches of the galaxy, the planet Zeon was a gleaming emerald cast against the darkness of space. The second planet among a system of four, and initially the only one that could hold human life, it was distinguished by its great size and its uniquely cascaded atmosphere, which glowed eerily when cast against the light of the local sun, as if the planet had a surreal and supernatural force to it. To many, it was perhaps the most alien world in the galaxy.

At one time, Zeon had been a hostile and highly volatile world, sparsely capable of supporting any life, let alone humanity. But that time was long past, and the planet had since been properly reconditioned, a feat that the inhabitants took great pride in; not only was today's Zeon fully capable of supporting life, but it had long since become a great paradise, noteworthy of its abundant mountains and lakes. It was a symbolic triumph of the original inhabitants, who had even gone as far as to genetically engineer their children so that they were able to thrive in this once desolate world; combined with other sets of mutations generated from the surrounding environment, these acts would eventually mold the Zeon race into the superhumans they were renowned as today, biological greatness gave form. For those reasons, Zeon was the capital world of one of the most powerful empires ever conceived.

Thus, he would address his people from there, the ultimate seat of power.

Standing before his subjects, Emperor Gihren appeared to be a god among men. Before him, millions of Zeon were looking upon him with admiration and hope, alongside undying loyalty to their Emperor and belief that they would see him through these troubled times. Beyond them, the Zakus that stood around the crowds, mono-eyes focused squarely on the stage and podium, seemed to gaze upon their liege with subservience as if reflecting the feelings held by their pilots from within. And even further, past what Gihren's eyes could see, there was the rest of Zeon's population throughout the stretches of the Empire, alongside the great fleets and armies of Zeon's vaunted military, all holding their attention toward the telescreens, all awaiting the words of their great leader.

Outwardly, Gihren was impassive as if to feign humility before his subjects. Inwardly, however, he gleamed over what he saw, infinite subjects looking upon him for guidance and protection, unquestioning and unswerving in their collective gaze. Symbolizing that Zeon belonged well and truly to him now; not the Daikuns, not his inept, uninspiring, and quite dead father, but him. And indeed, he would be the one to shape their destiny and raise them to greatness, above even the stars themselves. He would be the one who, by blood and by iron, would have them rule over the cosmos as was their birthright, the same birthright that the Daikuns never recognized and went out of their way to deny them.

Fortunately, Gihren saw what that line had refused and understood what they had not. He knew that Zeon was destined to encompass all the galaxy and that her people, once reviled and hated by humanity for their superiorities, would take their rightful place at the forefront of human evolution. All he needed to do was guide them along with a steady hand, which was exactly what he was doing now and what he was about to do to reassure those before him.

As the roaring cheers slowly died down, Gihren minutely smiled as he stepped squarely before the podium, dramatically swaying the cape of his crisp black and gold uniform. He began to speak, his deep, rich, baritone voice echoing throughout the cosmos as if God Himself were speaking to all of Creation. "My people..." he began, his voice low but slowly rising. Sons and Daughters of Zeon...!"

Already, Gihren saw that his audience was captivated as he expected. "For many ages, we have been a race denied our greater destiny. When our ancestors chose to augment their children in the hopes of building a proud civilization, they became scorned and hated throughout the rest of humanity. When their children sought to gain a place within the galaxy, for which they contributed much of our Fatherworld's resources and population to dedicated service, they became feared and persecuted for their gifts by those they called brethren. And when the next generation chose to embrace masterhood in the hope of expanding this proud nation, those same degenerates threatened war and conquest to strip the very last ounce of dignity from our ancestors and our world. And though the war had been averted at that time, those sentiments among the lowborn of the galaxy had remained, alongside their natural envy to us, the superior highborn."

At that point, Gihren allowed a grin to flourish from his lips. "But now, everything has changed. At long last, the lowborn have gained the battle with Zeon they had long sought; at long last, the 'naturals' have been allowed to deny us our pride and glory. At long last, the inferiors had gained their war against their superiors, only to realize the grave error of their desires, as they suffer our wrath."

With a broad gesture, he drew his arms outward. "To this day, two years since the beginning of the war, Zeon continues its march to the very heart of the galaxy! Our great fleets destroy countless warships and mobile suits every hour. Every day, our armies free hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of planets from tyranny. And with each step of the way, humanity becomes more and more purified of the lowborn corruption, setting it upon the path to Ascension as prophesied by the great Emperor Chivvay himself. Ascension, from hatred, fear, and misery, are the very vices humanity has suffered throughout the ages. Ascension into true peace and prosperity, the very blessings humanity has sought throughout time."

Then, with perfect timing, Gihren lowered his head and grasped the sides of the podium, feigning exhaustion. "But hold no illusions, my people. Our great task remains ahead of us; our war will continue until our enemies are completely defeated and the Zeon Cross shines over the entire galaxy. Many of you are weary of this, and I understand that Zeon is not a nation built upon war. For over three hundred years, we had maintained peace, content to keep our civilization in the far reaches of the universe and to leave the lowborn to their worlds and endeavors. If not for the death of Emperor Zorin at the hands of a lowborn assassin, that peace would surely have lived to this day, preventing the galaxy from much destruction and bloodshed."

He again rose to his full height. "Unfortunately, such peace was not to be, and so we are left with one choice: to fight until victory is obtained! Thus, I call upon you, my people, to maintain your stand; do not falter, do not compromise; instead, focus your strength on those who have wronged us for generations! Bring about your anger and your sorrow, hone and wield them as you would a sword, and force our enemies to submit before you! And continue until our banner waves upon the very center of the galaxy, ensuring that all of the universe belongs to Zeon!"

As one great voice, the people roared before him, showing that their Emperor's words had indeed reached their ears and punctuated their minds. Again, Gihren smiled. "And above all else, let your voice cry out until the stars echo with our might!" He raised his fist into the air and finally called out. "SIEG ZEON!"

"SIEG ZEON! SIEG ZEON! SIEG ZEON! SIEG ZEON! SIEG ZEON!" the crowd cried out the ancient rally call, first uttered upon the Empire's very formation, with their fists raised into the air and their hearts filled with fervor. Gihren could only smile triumphantly at this. Truly, this was the closest any man could come to Godhood.

Yet, despite his outward attention, he did not fail to detect the magenta-haired woman in the white gown standing several meters behind him in the darkened corridor from which he had entered. And though his face was turned away, he did not fail to detect how his sister, Princess Galina, was showing grave concern.


Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
Juno System

All at once, the tunnel of flashing light ended with the Ark Royal reverting to sub-warp speed. With certain grace that seemed uncharacteristic for such a large craft, the grey-hulled fleetcarrier cruised through space, straight toward the brown and blue world ahead of it, which shone brightly against the light of the local sun. Those who looked out through the Ark's bridge or any nearby portholes took that light as a sign of welcome.

"Juno Control, this is Ark Royal, ready for docking maneuvers," Kikka spoke over the local channel, looking out at the bright-colored world with a smile. It had been a long twelve-day journey from Antillia, initially hampered by Aznable's attack, but now she could breathe a sigh of relief as Juno lay before her.

"Ark Royal is cleared to dock," the female controller on the other end replied. "We are Activating the guidance beacon to Central Harbor."

"Lock on," Mirai commanded to the helm, where a fully recovered Katz worked the controls.

After a few button pushes, Katz nodded that they were ready. "Systems locked. Switching to autopilot...now."

Bright could only watch from his position as data poured into the Ark's guidance system, steering her to the planet with utmost precision. Nodding with satisfaction, he looked back at the front screen, where the earth grew closer and closer. "Juno, you have control."

"Affirmative Ark Royal. Enjoy the ride, and welcome to Juno." the controller replied from the other end, sounding as though a smile had touched her face at seeing the carrier's approach.

At that, Bright leaned back and relaxed as he and his bridge crew had no more to do now. "Ark Royal confirms."

Slowly, the Ark Royal continued its approach toward the planet, coming close enough for the bridge crew to depict mountains, seas, and cities lining its surface. Alongside these and civilian traffic, several more Earth vessels, identifiable by their telltale dark grey and navy blue hulls, could be depicted coming and going around the planet, ranging from Chicago-class cruisers to one or two larger Montana-class battlecruisers. The crew watched in awe as three such warships, a single Montana and two Chicagos, ascended past the planet's atmosphere and moved into space, passing by the Royal before jumping to warp speed, obviously a long-range patrol. And as if to compliment these ships, several Guncannon teams, also painted in the Federation standard grey and navy, flitted to and fro around the planet and the surrounding space, performing more intermediate patrols. One team even flew up alongside the Royal as she passed, from which the lead suit waved toward her bridge and then sped off to parts unknown.

Continuing at a stable speed, the fleetcarrier soon passed into Juno's atmosphere, beginning the reentry process. Bright recalled there being a time in which man journeyed into space in craft little bigger than a modern-day worker pod, where reentry was considered a dangerous act and a necessary evil, where astronauts had to make the most precise calculations, as well as the loudest possible prayers to God, to make it through a planet's atmosphere and perform a safe landing. In the Galactic Century, however, reentry was more like an everyday thing that anyone hardly thought over, as modern-day humans had long grown used to the process of bringing one's starship down onto a planet; hell, it was safe enough that aboard a large enough ship, one could move around unrestrained while reentry was underway and not worry over any potential harm. It also helped that the Royal's gravity plating was set to adjust automatically after reentry and deactivate when the ship fully entered the planet's gravitational zone.

A few moments later, the flames and vibrations died away, allowing the crew to gaze out and behold the surrounding blue skies and the spanning surface below. Stretched across the otherwise rocky and mountainous landscape, Juno's capital city of New Torrington was nothing less than a true metropolis of tall buildings and modern-day advancement, the only city on the entire planet and perhaps the whole sector. Right next to it was the aptly named Central Starport, which had long since been converted from civilian to military usage and would now serve as the Royal's harbor for her stay.

As Central came more into view, Mirai thought she saw something peculiar. "Magnify," she ordered, causing the main monitor to do just that over the base, displaying lines of Earth warships in the various ports. The XO raised an eyebrow. "That's a large garrison for a world like this."

Bright only shrugged. "Juno is the only major hub in this sector, so a defense force that size would make sense."

"Either that, or they're just stopping here before the big fight somewhere else." Ryu piped in from his chair. Both Mirai and Bright wondered about that.

Soon enough, as the Royal drew into its selected bay, reducing its descent to a crawl before nestling in. Landing struts from the ship and moorings from the bay extended to keep the vessel balanced on the ground, and after a slight rock later, the Royal completed its docking. The ship was now officially at port.

After completing the final checks, Bright activated the intercom from his chair arm console. "This is the Captain. We have docked. Aside from those on duty, all aboard may disembark at their leisure. Over."

Deactivating the intercom, he noticed the collective glance from his bridge crew, to which he nodded to their unspoken question. Thus, with their captain's permission, they quickly shut down their stations, already looking forward to their shore leave.

However, before Kikka could disengage hers, she tapped at her headset. "Captain, there's a message coming in, marked Priority One," she reported before turning to face Bright, who was just about to leave himself.

Bright ignored the growing discomfort as he retook his seat and engaged the holodisplay.


"I don't like it," Amuro stated as he looked up toward the three Gundams, glowering a strange mixture of disgust and annoyance.

"Really? I think Unit Alpha looks pretty good." Sleggar replied with a shrug. "But if you don't like it, you can have Astonaige put another..."

"No, I mean, I don't like the whole idea, 'sir.'" Amuro responded sharply, looking over at his new CO, twelve days in the making. "Look, I know you and Lieutenant Mass have been 'officially' assigned Unit Beta and Unit Gamma for the time being, and I get that you two are aces," he waved a hand at the dormant mobile suits. "But this is taking it too far!"

What Amuro was gesturing at was obvious enough, even to those in the hangar who could not hear the young junior Lieutenant's outbursts: the three Gundams were now painted in their own individualized and very non-regulation colors. Unit Alpha was now colored pure white with red highlights, Unit Beta was painted dark blue with gold and red highlights, and Unit Gamma was painted crimson with black highlights. Compared to their earlier standardized grey schemes, the Gundams were far more striking and visually distinguishable from each other; obviously, they were mobile suits piloted by aces or at least two of them were.

Besides the change in colors, each unit also held the personal symbol of its pilot on their left shoulders, with Beta displaying Sleggar's red, white, and blue eagle emblazoned over a golden 'S' and Gamma holding Sayla's silver hawk over the enlarged 'A.' For Unit Alpha, as Amuro hadn't possessed a personal sigil of his own, Sleggar had decided to make one for him: a red tinted 'A' with a highly angular and pointed shape, the two "lines" that formed either end crossing on the right and creating the complete "letter" toward the left. The Commander had claimed that it was meant to reference Amuro's 'unique' first name and not his Gundam's designation and that while it was somewhat 'plain' for his tastes, it otherwise worked. Even so, he gave Amuro the option of altering it, just like the color scheme.

The changes were made no sooner than when High Command had "officially" assigned Unit Beta and Unit Gamma to the two Shrike pilots over a direct line of communications with Earth; in fact, they were the first orders out of Sleggar's mouth as soon as the transmission ended. To Amuro, it was no different than, if he remembered the term right, "highway robbery," more so because his Gundam had not been spared. Naturally, the younger and lower-ranked pilot was very put off. "These are not model kits, Commander! You can't just change their colors around like that!"

"Are you telling me what I can and cannot do again, Lieutenant?" Sleggar stated, casting the 'evilest eye' on Amuro.

Amuro noticed and quickly straightened his collar. "No, sir. I just wanted to remind you that these are military machines. While the Zeon love their suits in outlandish color schemes, it's inappropriate for Federal units even if High Command allows it."

"I see." Sleggar lightened up, deciding to play along. "In that case, Lieutenant, allow me to explain: as strange as it may be to splatter bright colors on a military machine, there's a certain psychology to it."

Before Amuro could reply with a snappier comeback, Sleggar pressed on. "In the ancient world, warriors would often paint their armor, their uniforms, or even their very bodies in vibrant color, as well as adorn them with different markings and insignia. In practice, this left them with little camouflage, making them easily distinguish. Still, it gave them a greater advantage: their colors were a visual warning to their enemies, proclaiming their status as elites and that they were not to be contended."

Again, Amuro opened his mouth to reply, but Sleggar didn't allow him. "Over time, that tradition died out and gave way to an emphasis on concealment, but here in the Galactic Century, with the battlefield not being limited to a terrestrial setting, such practices are no longer necessary. The Zeon were the first to understand this and allowed their aces to paint their Zakus in custom colors; a doctrine that has been so successful that the Federation is now emulating it."

"But it will make me easier to identify." Amuro finally got a word in.

Sleggar only shook his head. "You piloted a one-of-a-kind prototype, bagged ten Zakus in your first real battle, and went head-to-head with the Red Comet and lived. Like it or not, you're an ace yourself now, and the Zeeks will recognize you regardless of your disposition, so you might as well live it up."

He then gestured back at Unit Alpha. "Besides, you must understand the effect you will have in battle with this. Suppose the Zeeks pick you out of the fold. In that case, one of two things will happen: they will engage you, thereby taking some of the pressure off the 'regular' Guncannon pilots, or they will evade you, allowing you to pass and perform your mission with less hindrance. Either way, you make it easier for our side to win."

Amuro could only frown at this, finding no way to argue back. "Okay, fine, I get it." he then thought for a minute. "But of all the colors you could have picked for Unit Alpha, why white?"

Sleggar looked back up at the Gundam and shrugged again. "I thought the Gundam would look good in white."

"It looks horrible!" Amuro nearly bellowed.

"I disagree, but it's your suit, and I did give you permission to change the color, so long as it's tasteful." He then smirked as Amuro opened his mouth again to respond. And no, you can't change it back to grey, as that would be tasteless." Sleggar stated with finality, causing the disgust on his subordinate's face to double in intensity. He smirked back.

The Commander then looked at Unit Beta and Unit Gamma. "Besides, red, white, and blue have always been a set," he said. You should learn to appreciate it."

The opposite Gundam pilot could only glower in return, at least until a new voice entered. "Is Amuro giving you a hard time again, Commander?"

Both turned to see Fraw Bow walk up to them, moving past the few remaining technicians and mechanics as she did so. Even after twelve days, Amuro still had trouble recognizing her, as she was now wearing a grey uniform herself, complete with her blue rank tabs displaying the single stripe and double diamonds of a Lieutenant Junior Grade.

"Of course not, Doctor Bow. He's been on his best behavior since I came down here." Sleggar replied to the Ark Royal's new Chief Medical Officer, who had taken the post four days ago after glowing recommendations from the surviving medical staff. After seeing her work, even Bright could not deny that she knew her trade.

Fraw laughed. "I've known Amuro for a while now, and I've never seen him on his best behavior." She ignored the glare Amuro cast her in turn. "And you can call me Fraw. I don't like being too formal."

"Alright, Fraw. And don't worry, it's nothing serious." Sleggar replied, gesturing back up at the Gundams. "The Lieutenant and I disagree on Unit Alpha's new coat."

Fraw looked up at the white Gundam and shrugged. "I think it looks good in white."

"See?" Sleggar shot back to his subordinate. Amuro barely resisted the urge to make a certain time-honored gesture.

Fraw then looked toward Unit Beta, reflecting upon the symbol on the left shoulder and remembering what it referenced. "If I may ask Commander..." she began. "How did you become the Eagle of Arcturus?" Amuro looked up as well, showing his curiosity.

Sleggar smiled a little. "Managed to survive Arcturus for one," he replied. "And kill a whole slew of Zeeks along the way."

"Sounds more like a product of luck than skill," Amuro replied.

The Commander thought about that. "Probably was, but it's still a kickass nickname, and it's always fun to hear the Zeeks call it out in sheer terror." he then looked toward Unit Gamma. "But if you want real skill, then Lieutenant Mass is one you want to hear about. She's a whole different story compared to me."

"Was she at Arcturus, too?" Fraw inquired.

"No, Arcturus happened before her commission. She was, however, at Riah, and that's also where she made a name for herself." Sleggar replied. "It was her first deployment."

"Riah?" Amuro's eyes widened a fraction at the name. "Her first battle was Riah? And she survived?"

Sleggar glinted back at Amuro with utmost seriousness. "Not only survived but also made ace in..." he said. "...by shooting down twenty-four Zakus singlehandedly."

Now Amuro was taken aback. "Two squadrons!?" he stammered. "How is that even possible!?"

Fraw looked at Amuro with confusion. "Why is that a big deal? You shot down ten in your first battle."

"I was in Unit Alpha, though, whereas she would have been in a Guncannon." Amuro looked as incredulous as could be. "I've heard of Guncannon pilots that have shot down as many as six, maybe nine Zakus..."

I've shot down way more than that. Sleggar thought but didn't say.

"...but never two squadrons worth, especially in one fight," Amuro stated with emphasis before catching his breath. "And it happened at Riah of all places, too! That was one of the war's worst battles; our side won and liberated the system but still took massive losses. Very few survived on either end."

Fraw turned to Sleggar, who just nodded. "It's exactly as he says: Riah was one of the worst battles thus far, and very few survived it. You can imagine how big and bloody the fighting was."

That caused Fraw to pause momentarily, considering the symbol on Unit Gamma's shoulder. "Did the Zeon give her a nickname as well?"

"That they did, especially after they found out she was female," Sleggar confirmed. "They call her the Valkyrie of Riah."

Even Amuro was impressed by that title. Even before the current age, the Valkyrie and other aspects of ancient Earth mythology were renowned throughout the galaxy as the warrior maiden who would select those who would perish in battle and see their souls carried to Valhalla. For Zeon to grant such a title meant they both respected and dreaded her as an opponent, which they did not usually do with "lesser" beings. Just who is she?

"There you are!" Mirai's voice hollered as its owner stepped up past the few techs and mechanics in the hangar to the trio. Her gaze was centered on Sleggar, and, as usual, it was not a warm one.

Sleggar inwardly groaned but kept his aloof expression. "I don't suppose you're here to reestablish our engagement." He took some minor delight in the shocked expressions on Fraw and Amuro at that statement.

"Hardly," Mirai said, glare increasing. "Captain Noa's been summoned by the brass here, and he wants us along for support."

Sleggar arched an eyebrow. "What's so bad about some REMF garrison commander?" he then gestured toward his two younger subordinates again, knowing what they were going to ask. "I'll explain later."

Mirai, however, knew what that acronym meant. "Because this 'REMF' just happens to be named Wakkein."

The Ark Royal's CAG suddenly became a lot more serious. "As in Admiral Wolfgang Wakkein, commander of the Second Fleet?" he spoke, clearly taken back. "What the hell's he doing here?"

"I don't know, except that he wants to see the captain, and he's brought a large detachment of the Second with him," Mirai said, worry creeping into her voice. I have my theories for the latter, but for the moment, I'm more concerned about the former." Her eyes suddenly bespoke of certain warning. "I'm sure I don't have to explain why."

Sleggar nodded grimly. "Yeah, I got you. Alright, I'll follow you." He then nodded back to Amuro and Fraw. You two better get some R&R because things may get dicey again soon," he said before following his fellow Commander off the hangar deck.

Fraw took this advice to heart. "Let's go, Amuro," she said, taking the Gundam pilot by the arm and leading him away.

Before he left, Amuro took one last glance at the three Gundams, specifically Unit Gamma. Though it didn't matter to him at the time, he couldn't help but inwardly remark that, with that shade of red, the Gundam looked eerily similar to Aznable's Zaku.


Wide. The world before her was so wide. From the openness of the sky to the vastness of the surrounding landscape to the sheer abundance of energy, whether generated by plants, animals, or humans, that filled her senses, all far beyond the capacity of a mere space colony or similar construct. Awesome in its beauty, terrifying in its scope, seemingly infinite as the Void itself. Even the artificial, soulless constructs of Juno's largest metropolis, which wasn't as large as most others she had visited, could not take away from the power she was feeling now. Some would call it God. Others would call it Nature. For herself, however, it was simply Life.

Walking along the streets of New Torrington, Sayla continued to look out and reach out to all around her, unlike Alice stepping once more into Wonderland. Tomorrow marked the five hundredth anniversary of Juno's founding. As such, there was a large amount of activity in the city and around the entire planet, all in preparation for the festivities alongside usual daily life. Though the scope of the occasion was nothing compared to, say, Christmas on Earth or Rose Monday on Zeon, the Junoans' anticipation of celebrating history and good times was still enough to bring out life in an otherwise meaningless world. Naturally, Sayla was living it up simply by observing all of it.

Even the vast number of aromas she picked up seemed filled with life, much to her inner delight. Where she came from, smell was a particularly integral part of society and culture, as the birthing practices of her race ensured each member held a highly enhanced olfactory sense. As such, Sayla could detect individualized scents, hundreds at a time, even things the people around her could never dream of. This, in turn, gave her a unique perspective that few outsiders could understand. The primary scent she was picking up now, even among the vast myriad generated by her environment, was perspiration; everyone was hard at work now to party tomorrow, whether it was their normal jobs or the preparations. Penetrating past that wall, she detected an even larger line: heat, cooking food, brewing alcohol, assorted flowers, and perfumes, as well as a fair amount of sugar and other "sweets" mixed with dairy and breading. All the traditional scents of a party in the making.

And amid the jubilee in the making, Sayla couldn't help but feel saddened by her being there. Surely, it wouldn't be long before the war also reached this place; Juno might not have been the most strategically relevant world in the galaxy, but it was still a Federation world with a sizeable garrison. In her experience, that was usually enough an excuse for the Empire to invade and subjugate; in fact, any world with a considerable lowborn population was enough to entice the fury of the highborn. That thought alone made her gut twist. How much more can Zeon fall before it drags all of Existence down?

She shook her head at the thought; for the time being, she wanted to be as far away from the war as possible. Fortunately, she soon found revenue for it and came across a small coffee shop named "Ahab's." Deciding that she could use the refreshment, Sayla quickly entered.

Unlike the larger franchise coffee establishments she had seen throughout the galaxy, this one was more or less a smaller, privately owned establishment deliberately modeled after AD-era Earth styling. Wood paneling, tanned walls, green seats, paint, and many pictures depicting rainforests.

Immediately, the shop owner, an old man with white hair and a goatee, noticed her. "What can I get you?"

"One Ammanan brew with cream." Sayla so ordered.

A few minutes later, the owner returned and presented her with a cup, which Sayla took. "It's on the house," he said, much to Sayla's surprise. "Call it a military discount."

Sayla nodded graciously. "Thank you. It looks great," she said as she began drinking, relishing the blend.

"Think nothing of it. It's not every day I get someone like you around here." the shop owner replied as he washed his hands. "Most of you Earth types avoid places like this like you'll get some kind of 'Mid Rim disease' or whatnot."

"That's a shame because this is very good coffee," Sayla replied. "I don't usually get anything of this quality out here."

"Oh? Let me guess, you're from Earth itself?" the old man said, casting a corner glance at her.

Sayla laughed. "Not even close," she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Let's just say I don't come from a Federation world."

"And yet that ain't a Zeek uniform you're wearing." the old man replied. "How mysterious."

"So I've been told," Sayla replied, looking at her reflection in the coffee cup. "I have my reasons for joining the military and fighting on the Federation's behalf."

"I would imagine," the old man said as he leaned against the back wall, lit a metal pipe, and smoked. Heh, it feels just like yesterday when everyone was just talking about the possibility of war; the Federation had its side of the line, the Zeeks had theirs, and everyone was waiting to see who crossed it first. I had money on the Federation invading Zeon with Hyran in office. You could imagine my surprise when the opening shots came in."

Sayla inwardly sighed so much for not thinking about the war. "There has always been a desire on the part of Zeon to conquer the galaxy; even as far back as its days in isolation, many of her subjects cried out for war against the Federation and all others. The Daikuns spent much of their time dousing out those fires while trying to maintain peace with the EF. Gihren reversed that policy, which is one of the reasons I'm in this uniform."

The shop owner let out a 'heh.' "That's all true. Zeeks never did like the notion of us 'lowborn' running things," he thought for a moment. "Not that we have much to defend ourselves with. 'Normal' humans have been gumming up the works since history was first recorded; hell, we changed the entire calendar to escape those bad old days. And yet, three hundred years into the future, we still keep making things worse."

Sayla looked back with peculiarity. "So you think things would be better under Zeon?"

That made the shop owner laugh. "Not a chance. It doesn't matter how much stronger, faster, and better in bed the Zeeks are compared to people like me; human's human. If that weren't the case, we'd hear stories of Gihren walking on water or feeding the poor with just five loaves and two fish."

Sayla's stomach turned at that comparison. "I would appreciate it if you didn't compare Gihren to that man."

"Heh, sorry," the old shopkeeper sighed. Still, it's an interesting paradox; no matter how 'superior' we humans can become to each other, the fact that we're all still human remains our greatest flaw. So long as that remains, we will always be stuck in this rut."

"Perhaps," Sayla replied. "All the same, though, because of that factor, Zeon will lose this war."

The shopkeeper looked at her curiously. "You sure about that? Last I heard, they're winning by a large margin."

"All too sure," Sayla replied. "To me, at least, the ability to acknowledge oneself as 'only human' isn't a flaw, but a strength. It allows 'mere' mortals to acknowledge their mistakes and move past them, improving themselves spiritually and physically, all without removing any notion that they may make more mistakes to better themselves from." she continued after taking another sip. "Only mortals are capable of such strength, while so-called Gods, in all their 'perfection,' continue to wallow in their arrogance, never learning until too late that they had been surpassed."

Her gaze quickly narrowed, recalling the image of her much-hated enemy. "Since he claimed the throne, Gihren has come to see himself as a God, and all of Zeon has willingly followed him as his worshippers. He, and by extension, the rest of the Empire, believes himself to be infallible, incapable of making even the smallest mistake. And yet because of that belief, he has made so many..." Such as letting Casval and I slip through his fingers. "...but has learned nothing from them."

She then took another sip of her coffee, which was a longer one. "Rest assured; it will be the mortals of the galaxy, not the immortals of Zeon, that will, in the end, be triumphant. It is only a question of when and how."

The shopkeeper considered that for a moment before nodding. "Seems like you got it all figured out," he surmised, finding no room or desire to argue. More coffee?"

"Please," Sayla responded before handing back the mug. The shopkeeper then went back and began making another batch, allowing Sayla a moment to herself. She quickly reflected on everything she had just said before once more, turning her special power toward the life forces outside and around the planet; all additional reasons why her proclamation would come true had to come true.

And if not by Thy will, nor the Federation's... she thought while flexing her fingers. ...then by mine shall it be done.


Space Force Base Juno
New Torrington, Juno

Regardless of his best efforts to do so, Bright could not keep the nervousness from welling up in his gut as he, Sleggar, and Mirai all walked down the hallway of the base's command center. By outward appearance, he certainly didn't look nervous; instead, he looked every bit like the officer and gentleman he was supposed to be. He walked in standard military stride, with his head in the air and shoulders relaxed. While well worn, his uniform was all in regulation order, once more complete with commissar cap and greatcoat. And as if to indirectly support that image, both Mirai and Sleggar had also designed to wear their commissar caps, further presenting an air of professionalism among the trio.

And yet, even so, Bright was still nervous as hell on the inside, feeling more like a condemned man making his way to the gallows than a Federal Forces Commander about to meet an Admiral. He reflected that there was little difference between an Admiral and an executioner.

Soon enough, the trio approached the outer office, where the Admiral's secretary, a young, bookish-looking brunette, signaled them in immediately. Thus, with much reluctance, the three officers entered the sanctum as soon as the door slid open. Seconds later, they approached the center desk, taking quick note of the figure behind it, who was turned away. They looked out the large window that made up the entire back wall of the office. Knowing that the figure had detected their entrance, Bright and his compatriots snapped to attention.

"Commander Bright Noa reporting as ordered, sir." he sounded off, doing well to keep his tone even but direct, and his eyes glued straight forward. "With me is my XO, Lieutenant Commander Mirai Yashima, and my ship's CAG, Commander Sleggar Law."

An uncomfortable few seconds passed before the figure finally spoke up. "I recall only sending for you, Commander."

Bright just managed to force back the urge to gulp. "Forgive me, Admiral, but I thought you would like to observe my senior staff as well," he replied. I can dismiss them if you intend to have a private meeting, sir."

The figure visibly shrugged for whatever it was worth, not even bothering to consider the suggestion. "I suppose it doesn't matter. You would have had to fill them in after the meeting anyway." with that, the officer turned to face the three. "At ease."

Now in full view, Admiral Wolfgang Wakkein, commander of the Second Fleet, looked every bit the part of his rank; in fact, he was almost a prime stereotype of it. His uniform was more or less standard but with rank tabs that displayed three stripes and three diamonds each. The head that came with that uniform was just as "upper brass" looking, specifically of the "cold and stern" variety; it held a notably thin structure, with each of its parts being neither too large nor too small, while a crop of short cut blonde hair laid across the top of it, arrayed in a widow's peak. The Admiral's most discernible feature was his eyes, which possessed the hardness of a combat veteran mixed with the all too common dour and humorless nature seen on higher-ranked commanders, whether Federal or Zeon.

And as those eyes remained firmly fixed on Bright, the commander saw disdain behind them, causing his gut to tighten. He knew the exact reason for that disdain, just as he knew exactly where this meeting would go. Sleggar and Mirai quickly took notice, though only Sleggar knew what Bright did.

Waving his arm, Wakkein tapped a few switches on his desk, causing the holodisplay to activate and show a holographic map of the region around the Juno System. "About five days ago, one of our listening posts in the Bacchus System picked up a transmission from the Zeon High Command," he said, eyes still dead set on Bright. "The transmission was a mobilization order for Zeek forces in the Masada Sector, in which they were to organize a task force and send them right here to Juno. In turn, the task force is to be commanded by this man..."

A moment later, an image profile of a bald and goateed Zeon dressed in an Admiral's uniform. "Admiral Aiguille Delaz, commander of the Zeeks' Fourth Fleet as well as one of Gihren's lapdogs." he continued. "By our estimates, the task force is set to arrive here in approximately five days. For this reason, it has fallen to the Second Fleet to ensure this outpost remains in Federation hands."

"If I may ask Admiral..." Mirai spoke up. "Why are the Zeeks investing such a force and their prominent commanders in a side-line base like this one? Surely there are more integral worlds to the Federation out there."

"Because, Commander, despite your opinion, Juno is one of those integral worlds," Wakkein answered staunchly. "It may not look like much, but Juno is the only large-scale basin in this entire sector; if the Zeeks get their hands on it, they'll gain full control over the sector and have a launching pad into neighboring ones. And if they take those over, they'll be on their way toward conquering the Middle Rim."

He then looked back toward the map. "And so, we must stop them before they gain that much ground."

Bright did not like the sound of that. "With all due respect, as well as gratitude for your sharing this, sir, what does all have to do with us?" he asked, even though he knew his head had just inched closer to the chopping blocking. "We're on direct orders to return to Earth as soon as possible and are scheduled to depart in the next two days."

"I am very much aware of that, Commander, which is why I'm giving you new orders," Wakkein replied. As of now, you can consider yourselves reassigned to the Second Fleet and this world's garrison." He continued regardless of the near gaps. Assuming you survive, you may continue on to Earth after the battle, win, lose, or draw."

Almost stammering, Bright responded. "But sir, our orders came directly from Admiral Revil..."

Wakkein's gaze quickly intensified. "Admiral Revil is not here, Commander. I am." he promptly placed both hands on his desk. "Don't think for a damned minute I'll let you repeat that stunt at Arcturus. You will follow orders and stand the line this time, or God and Heaven help me. The Zeeks will be the least of your problems."

Bright knew better than to argue with that. "Yes, sir."

Seeing that answer, Wakkein quickly leaned back. "If I had it my way, Commander, I would have stripped you of your command the moment you landed and given the Ark Royal to someone who doesn't run at the first sight of Zakus..."

The commander again did well not to argue, though it took every ounce of restraint to hold his tongue in check. Sleggar, on the other hand, looked ready to reach out and strike the Admiral so hard he'd fly out that back window. You self-righteous bastard!

"...Unfortunately, I don't have any able-bodied and able back-boned commanders on hand." the Admiral sighed as if disappointed. "As such, I'll allow you to keep your ship, but don't get the wrong idea." again, his eyes gazed directly into Bright's. "I don't care if you do have COMSPAF backing you up; you're still a coward and a disgrace to me, Noa. Paraphrasing a certain historical figure, I would rather have the Zeeks in front of me than people like you behind me." he then backed off. "So rest assured, I will be watching you every step of the way, and I will kick your ass from here to the Galactic Center if you so much as hint at going out of line. Is that understood?"

At that, Bright again released an automatic response, keeping his feelings and a certain open wound in check. "Yes, sir."

"Good. The operational briefing will be held tomorrow at 0800." Wakkein finished. "Now get out."

"Sir." Bright sounded off, then threw in a salute. Sleggar and Mirai did the same. Then, all three turned away and exited just as promptly as they came in.

But not without Sleggar clasping his hands behind his back and extending his right middle finger just as he left. Wakkein noticed but ignored it; after all, the last thing he needed was to have one of the best pilots in his muster thrown in the brig before the big battle, especially when said pilot's very name terrorized Zeon to no end. However, he still made a mental note to repay the infraction later on.


"So there I was..." Lieutenant Junior Grade Eledore Mauris, Shrike Eight, continued dramatically to the young and large, busted brunette beside him. "With two Zeek warships and god knows how many Zakus directly ahead, shooting at me and my squadmates. With nothing to lose, I ditched my cover and dove into the fight..."

"Only when the Commander ordered us to charge." Lieutenant Junior Grade Job John, Shrike Nine, spoke up from across the table. Already, he was getting a migraine from his wingman's over-the-top narrative.

"And you were the last to ditch your asteroid." Ensign Kiki Rosita, Shrike Five, added from beside Job, looking just as bored and annoyed.

"And only because Lieutenant Joshua threatened to shoot you herself if you didn't." Ensign Michel Ninorich, Shrike Six, also tagged on from beside Kiki, his head resting against hand as he awaited the next round of drinks.

"Hey, do I interrupt you when you tell the stories!?" Eledore shouted back to his fellow pilots and comrades-in-arms, who looked away and tried to ignore him. That was good enough, so Eledore continued. "As I said, I ditched my cover and dove into the fight. Almost right off the bat, three Zakus come at me..."

"You mean one." Job nonchalantly spoke up again. "The other two went after me and Lieutenant Joshua, respectively."

"Fine. One." Eledore replied tersely to Job's comment before returning to his captivated audience. "Anyway, the Zeek's coming right in, trying to get me at point blank with his axe; I just barely deflect the first blow with my shield and shot back with the vulcans..."

"Which missed, even at that range." Kiki pointed out.

"...only for the bastard to move to the right and go after my side. Fortunately, I swung my beam rifle around in time and fired..."

"...and miss again..." Job added.

"...thereby causing the Zaku to fall back. As luck would have it, that put him right in the sights of my cannons, and with the first round, I blew off its head..."

"Right leg." Michel corrected.

"...and with the second round, I punched through the cockpit..." Eledore started to growl in growing annoyance.

"Because it banked into it." Job replied.

"...and one moment later, nothing was left but atoms." Eledore finished with an air of pride despite his comrades' constant badgering. "I bagged three more Zakus like that before the battle ended."

"Again, you mean one more." Job corrected again. "The Commander got the other two you're thinking of."

"Damn it, do you bastards ever shut up!?" Eledore bellowed in response.

Despite the constant criticism, the brunette was starry-eyed. "Wow, Lieutenant, that was awesome!" she replied, entirely enamored. "Not every day we get real aces in a place like this!"

Eledore smirked in turn. "Yeah, well, despite how I made it sound, it's not all fun and games, kid." He said, wrapping his arm around the Ensign's chair. There were times I thought I was going to buy the colony, so to speak."

"Would this be one of them?" a voice spoke up from behind, potential violence in its tone. Eledore didn't need to see the combined looks of dread on the other patrons to know who was standing behind him; he already recognized the voice and its ire. Turning around, he saw a very put-off redhead, Lieutenant markings on her shoulders and collar, looming over him with death and destruction in her eyes.

"Karen...!" Eledore stammered. "It's...It's not what you think...!" the response came in from the superior officer, taking Eledore's head and slamming it into the table. Knowing what was about to happen, the young brunette quickly slipped away from the table before she got caught in the epicenter.

"That's Lieutenant Joshua to you, playboy!" Lieutenant Karen Joshua, Shrike Seven growled with increasing vehemence. "I should have known I'd find you trying to get your hands on some skirt the moment we touched down!" She then quickly lifted Eledore's now bruised head and stormed away toward the bar counter.

"Wait, Karen! I wasn't doing anything!" Eledore called back as he got up and raced to the bar counter, leaving the other three Shrike pilots alone. At least until Sanders, who had come in with Karen, came over to them.

"And this, kiddies, is why relationships between personnel are technically forbidden," Sanders stated as he sat down. "Not that I'll ever figure out the attraction between those two."

"Well, this war has caused stranger things to happen." Job replied just as the next set of drinks arrived for the remaining three. Sanders also signaled the waitress and ordered a Palau Boilermaker. After taking a drink, Job continued. "Besides, it's not like this sort of thing doesn't happen; I'd even wager half the fleet was shacking up, regulations be damned."

"Not me. I already have a girlfriend." Michel proclaimed proudly.

Kiki rolled her eyes. "Ah yes, BLT..."

"B.B.!"

"Whatever," Kiki replied dryly as she took a drink herself. "She's going to dump you in the end, so why bother?"

"No, she won't!" Michel stammered almost violently. "She said she'll wait for me to the end of the war!"

"Right, like that kind of promise has never been made before," Kiki said with a wave of her hand.

"At least it's better than having some high school crush!" Michel nearly hollered. "Especially one on a superior officer who has no interest!"

That pushed a button, and Kiki looked like she was about to punch her wingman into the floor. However, before she could reach out with her arm, Job waved a hand. "Children, children, please. Not while I'm still sober and conscious."

Remembering that Job was senior to both of them, Michel and Kiki quickly backed down and chose to look away from the other simply. Sanders supposed it was natural as the two next to him were the youngest members of the Shrike Squadron, taken fresh from the Academy not long after Riah. They had a lot of growing up to do, even if they had seen their fair share of battles up to this point. At the very least, they were all talented pilots, such that they had all made ace status, though their kill numbers were nowhere near his, Karen's, or Shiro's, and even less so from Lieutenant Mass' or the Commander's. Either way, it didn't detract from the notion that Shrike Squadron was the best.

That's when Job noticed something. "On that end, where is Commander Amada? Didn't he get off the ship?"

Sanders shrugged. "I didn't see him, though I doubt he's still on the ship. He's probably wandering around the city now; you know how planet-huggers are."

Michel took that in stride. "You think he's going to pawn that weird pocket chrono?"

"Hell no!" Kiki nearly shouted. "He never even takes that off! It's like his last remaining memory of Hera or something."

Michel looked at Kiki curiously. "Do you even know how the Commander got it?"

Certain fury entered Kiki's eyes as she turned to face as if Michel had just accused Shiro of a heinous crime. "That was only a rumor...!" she almost bellowed. "There's no way in hell Commander Amada would...!"

"Alright, that's enough," Sanders stated, quickly putting out the fire before it got out of hand. "That isn't something that needs to be discussed here. Understood?"

Quickly realizing there was no room for argument, both pilots nodded hesitantly. After that point, silence reigned throughout the table for some time, conveniently just as the latest newsfeed came in. Almost every bar patron turned to watch as the all-too-expected bad news played out.

"...confirmed that as of 1453 hours Standard Time, forces of the Vingolf Alignment, augmented by Zeon reinforcements, have invaded the home system of the Tekkadan State. While reports are still coming in, it is being reported that Alignment forces are advancing with impunity against Tekkadan, with many believing it is only a matter of time before they reach the State homeworld. There is currently no word on the whereabouts of Supreme Commander Itsuka, who has been rumored to have fled from the capital..."

"This war is never going to end, is it?" Michel let out, signaling the thoughts of everyone at the table, if not the rest of the bar.

Terry only sighed. "Oh, it will end, Ensign," he said before drinking. "It just won't end like any of us want it to."

Once more, silence reigned.


Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
New Torrington, Juno

"It's the first planet we've been on in a while..." Ensign Kai Shiden complained, leaning tiredly against the side of one of the many Guncannon Troopers in the Ark Royal's hangar, while Hayato continued to work from the open cockpit. "And you spend the first hour of shore leave working on your suit," he stated with a near-disgusted tone. "Can't you see anything wrong with that?"

"There's nothing wrong with ensuring one's mobile suit works properly." Hayato shot back as he continued typing on the holographic keyboard before him; holographic interfacing was standard equipment on MS and most other military machines. "If you want to get off and wander around, then don't let me hold you back, Kai."

"If I did that, you'd be at this all night; you'd still be at this by the time we depart," Kai replied with a wave of the hand. "It's no wonder you never got properly laid at the Academy."

Hayato cringed at the thought. "Forgive me for concentrating on studying instead of trying to nail every girl I came across," he replied sarcastically. "Not that you got far on that yourself. From what I heard, you weren't exactly 'popular'."

Kai only shrugged. "As the saying goes, you can't blame a guy for trying. And it wasn't like I struck out constantly." he then turned serious. "But really, you can't stay like this, Hayato. It's unhealthy, on top of borderline obsessive."

That's when Hayato stopped typing altogether. "Look, I just want my Guncannon to work the next time we go up against the Zeeks, alright?" he looked down in near anger. "Damn Zakus can already outmaneuver our suits. God knows they have so much over us. So I'm trying to make my unit more responsive; it'll give me some compensation anyway."

"Sounds like one of my exes," Kai commented dryly. He then held his hands up in surrender. "But that's beside the point. I know why you're doing it, Hayato. I don't understand why you're doing it now." he gestured outwardly. "We're on a Federation world, for god's sake! The last thing we will be doing here is shooting at Zakus. Unless you count the ones in the arcade games."

"Really?" Hayato inquired. "I remember a point in history where that attitude was abundant, specifically when a certain country laid the bulk of its navy to anchor in a place called Pearl Harbor. Do you know what happened?"

Kai rubbed his head. "No idea. History isn't my strong suit."

"I figured," Hayato replied dryly. "At some point, my ancestors attacked Pearl and decimated it. The same people that claimed the last thing they were going to be doing was 'shooting at Zeros' soon found themselves in that position, all the while their ships sank around them."

Kai felt the urge to rub his eyes next. "Your point?"

"My point is I don't want to take chances. After all, how do we know the Zeeks aren't going to hit this world?" Hayato inquired.

"Because it would be a waste of their sweet time?" Kai countered.

The other pilot was not convinced. "Right, just as Antillia was a waste for them." he then returned to work. "As I said, I'm not taking any chances, and neither should you."

"Whatever," Kai stated. "This is all just to one-up Lieutenant Ray anyway."

Again, Hayato stopped, and though he didn't say anything at first, Kai knew he had struck a chord. "What are you saying?"

"I'm more attentive than I look," Kai replied informatively. "I've noticed that, ever since we saw Unit Alpha's battle footage from Antillia, you've been working around your Guncannon more and more. When you weren't going through sims, you worked on tuning up your suit like you're doing now, if not going over Zaku battle data." Kai then smiled. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a certain envy."

Anger started to wash over Hayato's eyes. "All that bastard has is a better mobile suit," he growled almost threateningly. "If I had a Gundam, I could take on the Red Comet too!"

"Yes, you keep telling yourself that," Kai replied before turning away. "In the meantime, I'm going to go into town, have a few drinks, and maybe even get some late-night company. You keep sitting there, believing that all those mods to your Guncannon will help you beat the new guy."

"Get the hell off my suit, Kai!" Hayato bellowed, his anger finally out and about.

"Very well, I'm gone," Kai said as he jumped off the Guncannon's open palm onto the nearby zipline, which lowered him toward the floor. "But it still wouldn't kill you to go out and have a good time yourself!" he called before moving to the nearest turbolift.

Hayato spat and went back to work again. As he did, however, his mind became filled with the image of Unit Alpha and its pilot, causing Hayato's eyes to narrow in disdain. No way in hell I envy that bastard. He's just a nobody with a better suit. That's it. Nothing more.


"I want to go back to the ship," Amuro whined as he strode down the overly active streets with Fraw leading him on. "Is that too much to ask for?"

"It is," Fraw replied as she continued to walk. "We don't know how long before we stop on another planet, so as your doctor, I insist you spend your shore leave accordingly."

Amuro sneered in annoyance. "And who the hell made you my doctor?"

"Captain Noa did when he made me the new CMO," Fraw replied evenly.

"But you have the same rank I do!" Amuro nearly shouted, gesturing toward the rank pips on Fraw's uniform.

"According to regulations, I have 'unilateral authority in all matters regarding the health and safety of the crew,' regardless of rank," Fraw answered before casting a corner smile at Amuro. "And seeing as you're now part of the Ark's crew, that includes you."

The Gundam pilot could only glare as Fraw gestured toward a nearby marketplace. "Come on, it won't hurt you to get out once in a while, Amuro," she said as she turned and wandered into the market, looking over the various wares and food items. She was especially interested in the types of native fruit sold from one stand.

Instead of joining her, Amuro only stood by and shook his head; at the very least, Fraw was no longer overwhelmed by the death of her parents. Amuro could still sense some grief underneath the surface pleasantness, but the Ark Royal's new Chief Medical Officer had fit into her new job rather well. As a bonus, it also gave a reason to stay aboard the Ark instead of getting off here on Juno; for better or worse, Amuro appreciated that much.

Deciding to wait for her, Amuro leaned up against the side of the building, arms crossed, and kept watch as Fraw went about the various stands. Even if he lost sight of her, he could still depict her presence from the rest of the crowd, so it wasn't like he would lose her. Not that Fraw wasn't capable of taking care of herself.

Time seemed to pass by from there as Amuro continued to gaze out at the marketplace while his special sense picked up on the surrounding area and all the citizens going about their business. It was more or less a normal scene, no different in scope than what he had felt before in similar environments on Antillia or Earth. Over that period, however, Amuro started to feel something was off with everything.

Trying to determine the source of his discomfort, Amuro felt himself peer up toward the sky, which started moving into twilight as the Junoan sun set over the horizon. As such, the sky wasn't entirely dark, but the stars were beginning to make their appearances in the soon-to-be-night sky, which Amuro's eyes could just barely see. All the while, his special senses detected something more ominous among that plain.

Suddenly, Amuro nearly jumped as he saw a beam of light fall from the sky and slam into the world around him, causing the ground to crack open and flames to spill out. People's screams soon began to fill his ears while his eyes beheld those around him disintegrate into the light, vanishing completely. From there, he felt the rest of the world soon white out...

"Amuro?" Amuro heard his name and felt Fraw shake his arm, causing him to return to reality. "Are you okay, Amuro?"

The Lieutenant quickly blinked his eyes, remembering where he was and what he was doing, and then shook his head. I must be more tired than I thought. "I'm fine, Fraw," he said as he marched off.

For a moment, Fraw only watched with a certain concern in her eyes. However, when she realized there was nothing wrong, or at least nothing perceptibly wrong, with her companion, she quickly raced up to join him.