Relevant Notes Will Be At The End Of The Chapter

-000-

Mobile Suit/Mass Effect

Episode 6

For The Future

-000-

Castis Vakarian was quite honestly exhausted. More so than usual. The past month or so since the Relay 314 Incident had been nothing short of chaotic, to say the least. The veteran ISB Chief may have had a strong stomach for nonsense, but even he was starting to get sick of it all.

It had been quite the shock when Councilor Cassandor sided against the Primarch. That shock then doubled when he received word that Primarch Lacinius decided to soldier on with his plans regardless... thanks in large part to support from Dillinaga and her cadre of Asari Matriarchs who were as rich as they were militant. Quickly though, that shock turned into exasperation and disdain. Vakarian already had a... less than positive opinion of the Primarch. This certainly did not improve things at all.

However, as a servant of the Turian Nation, Vakarian was honor bound to his duties. Duties which meant making sure everything within the Empire was safe and secure. Today, the security concern was a Salarian firm being contracted by the Turian Military Council to redevelop the old bipedal tank concept. It was a robot development company, Tauvohr Mechanics, which produced top of the line machines, usually marketed to mining companies. What made the company especially desirable was their mobile factory, aptly named The Forge. A state of the art facility capable of producing hundreds of robots a day, be it the smaller Turioid models, or the larger bulkier ones.

When he was first notified of this development, Castis briefly wondered how the company was given the contract so soon. He suspected Dillinaga's cadre may have greased the wheels of military procurement, to get past all the red tape so quickly... but ultimately he had no evidence to prove it. Even if he did, there wasn't much he could do. The contract went through all the usual procedures, forms, and approvals. It was simply rushed through the process without the chance to be properly scrutinized by the ISB.

Was it unethical? Certainly! Frowned upon? Of couse! Illegal? Unfortunately not.

Castis frowned. He never liked it when Asari Matriarchs got involved.

The owner of the company, Director Tauvohr - because of course this was a family owned venture - was also known to have more than a handful of Asari contacts. Said director was also currently giving the ISB chief a personal tour of The Forge as it orbitted above the Salarian world of Aeghor. During this time, Vakarian's subordinates spread out around the facility, inspecting every single nook and cranny to ensure it fit within Turian Military security regulations.

"And this is our assembly line." The Director explained, gesturing at the rows upon rows of platforms where different machines were being put together. The crew working on assembly were staffed with Salarians, as well as a few assistant robots. "Due to the complexity of many of our products, we can't rely entirely on an automated assembly system. While this may mean our process isn't as efficient as some of our competitors, the flexibility provided by our system lets us quickly pivot between different product lines! Once the make and model of the machine has been finalized, we'll be able to quickly start up production. Scaling up production will also be a simple task once the crew are familiar with the machine they're building!"

The Director's voice sounded excited, but Vakarian saw through it. It was a marketing pitch. A friendly image carefully crafted to woo customers. The ISB chief cared little for it.

"I'm sure the generals and admirals of the Military Council would be ecstatic to hear that." Vakarian responded, damn near sighing. His voice sounded bored and disinterested in the finer details of The Forge's industrial workings. "I'm just here to see whether or not the facility meets Turian safety and security regulations.

"Of course, of course!" Director Tauvohr said, his enthusiastic facade not wavering in the face of Vakarian's powerful indifference. "We at Tauvohr Mechanics take safety and security very seriously... and if it's not up to your standards... why, with The Forge's highly modular design, we'll be able to make the necessary changes easily!"

Vakarian's agents regrouped with him as the tour closed its end. The tour group were then guided by the Director back towards The Forge's hangar bay. It was a short walk, and that was intentional. The assembly line and the hangar bay were built close to each other so that finished products could be quickly packed into storage containers and loaded into cargo ships.

Along the way, nothing much was said from the Turians. Director Tauvohr still acted as quite sycophant, but few paid attention to him. The Salarian almost seemed desperate to get into the Turian Military Council's good side. Castis wondered if perhaps the company was in dire financial straits, and that securing this contract would save it. It wouldn't be surprising, as the Turian government were known to be quite royal when it comes to military procurement. Add to that, getting handouts from Asari Matriarchs had plenty of strings attached, while winning a contract with the Turian Military was very much a straight forward affair. You do what you're asked to do, and you get paid very handsomely. No more, no less. No expense was spared in making sure the sword and shield of the Citadel Coalition were on the top of the military food chain. Who wouldn't want a bite of Turian military expenditure, which averaged a whopping twenty percent of the Empire's yearly budget?

With the visit concluded, Vakarian and his subordinates bid farewell to the director. They boarded the ISB frigate they arrived in and went on their merry way back home.

As the ship's crew charted a route back to Palaven, Castis and his team gathered in the conference room. The ISB Chief plopped himself down on the seat at the head of the table rather ungracefully. The subordinates working directly under him were used to his less than strict demeanor. Over time, most followed their Chief's example and also loosened up considerably, though a few strictly held to their discipline. Vakarian was fine with either, so long as they followed protocol and played by the rules.

"So, did they pass?" The ISB Chief asked, his question directed at the entire team. The Turian leaned back heavily on his reclining seat as he waited for his subordinates to answer.

"We spotted a few blindspots in their camera setup." A female ISB agent named Laiel answered first. "Nothing that can't be fixed by installing a few new ones."

"Security is a bit lacking." A different agent, this one named Barbus, picked up. "They've got three... maybe four dozen security bots to cover the entire ship, plus a dozen guards."

"That's more than 'a bit lacking', Barbus." Vakarian pointed out. "That's nowhere near enough to cover a ship that's much larger than an Exemplar Class Cruiser."

"So we'll have to station some of our own people there to bolster the numbers." An agent who thus far has been quiet hoppped in. "Feel bad for the sorry folks who get stuck there."

"We'll deal with that problem when we get to it, Gren. Is there anything else that needs to be addressed now?" The ISB chief then said. He didn't bother hiding how tired he was. He knew his team was too, and the sooner they get this done, the sooner they can get some well earned rest.

It was Gren that answered.

"I was going to save it for the written report, but I might as well just share it now." He said. "Their cybersecurity will need upgrading. It's not bad... perfectly fine for a middling corporation like them, but certainly not up to our standards."

Vakarian sighed.

"More problems to deal with. That's just great." He all but groaned out. "How in spirit's name did they win the tender?"

The ISB chief pressed on his foreplate, anticipating an incoming headache. He reflexively moved his left hand over his uniform's pocket, only to find it empty. It was in stressful moments like these that he'd momentarily forget he was trying to quit Dew. Mere weeks ago, a quick hit of Dew would quickly dull the stress. Now the withdrawal was starting to add to it. In hindsight, maybe he should've quit after this whole contact affair was sorted out...

No, that was the withdrawal talking. He made a commitment to be clean by the time his firstborn arrived. What kind of father would he be if he couldn't keep to his words?

Vakarian sighed again.

"Alright, it's been a long day." He told his team. "Go get some rest while you can. Once we're back at Fort Zere, I want your reports as soon as possible."

The conference room quickly emptied as the ISB agents went off to their assigned quarters. Castis was the last Turian left in the room, left only with his thoughts. Naturally, they drifted to the ensuing crisis at hand.

Lacinius bypassed the Council by going directly to political leaders of the various races. Matriarch Dillinaga and her cadre of militant Asari were but one group who he had approached. A group of Salarian Dalatrasses -namely those who stood in opposition to the current Councilor's political faction- had also pitched in their considerable economic and military support. The Volus had even been strong armed by the Primarch into lending their bombardment fleet.

The Council, to their credit, hadn't sat idly by. Many Turian C-SEC units who were earmarked for recall by the TMC were suddenly held in place by readiness excercises, sudden inspections, last minute patrol duties, and even maintenance issues. Vakarian even had it in good word that a handful of Reformer aligned Turian C-SEC officers discreetly ordered for their ships to be tampered, so that they couldn't be recalled by the Primarch. Of course, since this happened while they were in C-SEC, the ISB had zero jurisdiction... even if the ships belonged to the Turian Navy.

The biggest blow was when The Council managed to withhold the Destiny Ascension and Incontinens from being recalled. Two very powerful Dreadnoughts from the Asari and Turian Navy respectively. Ascension was especially painful for Dillinaga, since she had sponsored its rotation into the C-SEC fleets. That the Ascension's commanding officer -one of Dillinaga's own daughters- seemingly stood in agreement to withhold Dreadnought was unintentional insult to injury.

Opposition from the Council lead to rather... unorthodox moves. Eclipse and Aurek Concern were brought in. They were two major mercenary companies which had reputations that would raise questions for those in the know.

Eclipse had a lot of bad baggage. Notorious for being as brutal as they were effective, the mostly Asari lead company weren't exactly the kind of support you'd call for delicate situations. Certainly not like this crisis that the 314 Incident was slowly devolving into. It was the equivalent of using a battle axe for an open heart surgery.

Aurek Concern was an odd pick for completely different reasons. It's long been rumored that Aurek was started by the long gone Primarch Torix after the Krogan Wars ended. The supposed reason for its founding was to provide a means of extending Turian influence, without necessarily having to use Turian assets. Primarch Marius and Lacinius had spent decades denying that the company was in any way affiliated with the Turian Nation. It was an uphill battle, considering Aurek somehow had top of the line Turian made gear and rarely took jobs that went against the interests of the Empire in any way. In fact, a lot of their jobs end up benefiting Turian foreign policy. It was hard to understand why Lacinius would contract Aurek Concern if he wanted to convince everyone that there was no link between the two. Castis actually believed that Aurek was independent... to an extent. The ISB couldn't find anything linking the group to the current Turian government. It was quite possible that they were just very patriotic Turians who were willing to do the things the government wasn't willing to.

The whole thing was an absolute mess. Vakarian reclined his seat to its maximum angle. Reclining chairs like these were spirit-sent in times like these. As an ISB Chief, he was allowed to furnish the ships and facilities he used out of his own pocket. Of course he was going to make things comfortable. He'd nearly gotten back problems with the horrible chairs that the Army and Navy uses for its offices. A little bit of comfort was perfectly fine.

As he laid on his chair, Castis felt his eyelids grow heavy. Was the day really that exhausting, or was it the whole crisis that drained his energy? Vakarian didn't really care. He decided to take his own advice, and let himself drift into deep sleep.

-000-

I went through all the practiced motions of preparing my mobile suit for launch. Going through all the same checks and procedures I always did before launch almost made this sortie feel normal.

Almost.

"Lieutenant Kreusgluck, remember to double check your IFF codes." Warrant Officer Kessler chimed in on the Battle Network. "Golden Beacon are friends now. Let's avoid a blue-on-blue incident on our first joint operation."

I didn't miss his tone of voice. Turns out Kessler was something of a wiseass. Sometimes he gives me a glimpse of what Verns must feel when I egged him on with my shenanigans. Of course, no harm was done. It was simply how he dealt with stressful situations like this one.

Back on point... Golden Beacon weren't our enemies anymore... at least for the foreseeable future. It seemed impossible at first, but Bullow actually did it. She managed to talk down Father Oswin and made him come to terms. Granted, a lot of the footwork was made by the President and Congress beforehand, but it was still Bullow that sealed the deal. After a lengthy session of negotiations, compromises, and eventually agreements, Golden Beacon agreed to cease hostilities. In exchange, the Greater Shanxi Region will see its status upgraded to an Autonomous Protectorate. Oswin wanted independence wholesale, but the Acting Captain rightfully pointed out that any alien attack would have to come through Shanxi, and that an independent Shanxi could never hold out. As an Autonomous Protectorate, Shanxi could still write its own constitution, pass its own laws, and run its own armed forces. However, a Congress appointed Governer would still oversee Shanxi, and any major decision would have to go through this Governor. It was a compromise that Oswin agreed to begrudgingly.

So now, the Risima, Monty, and Gleiswick, reinforced by the CSF destroyers Ivan Darrian and Marcella Loanie rendezvoused with a significantly larger Golden Beacon force. This time, it wasn't for negotiations.

No, this time we were making the agreement official.

"Attention to all allied forces," A different voice, this one coming from Sorcerer's Comms Officer. "Brother Lionhardt's Battlegroup has been detected, bearing 026 relative to Sorcerer's bow. Remember to sync IFF codes, or things will get messy. Father Oswin will begin the last call soon."

I double checked, then triple checked the IFF codes. It was all working as intended. Friendly Golden Beacon units were marked in yellow, while if things come to it, Brother Lionhardt's splinter force would be red.

Oswin had warned beforehand that not all of Golden Beacon would follow his orders. Some members were, unbelievably enough, far more radical than he was. These radicals among radicals have so far refused to cease hostilities and have rallied behind this Lionhardt character. He was -apparently- the second most influential member of Golden Beacon, and the number of ships that have joined him show it. If Fleet Intelligence's estimates are correct, he had close to a fifth of their forces following his banner. Despite this, we were facing them with relatively even numbers, as most of the forces in the Greater Shanxi Region were scattered across various star systems. Lionhardt's formation had 21 ships of various classes, mostly destroyers. Our force currently numbered 5 CSF warships and 15 Golden Beacon ships. This very much was Father Oswin's operation, so we agreed to let him take the lead. I remember that Bullow seemed to feel relieved to hear she wasn't heading the mission. Why that was, I wasn't sure. I'd have to talk to her about it sometime in the future.

Now that we were in contact with the splinter group, Oswin would try to talk them down. Regional Command was hoping that it wouldn't come to blows, much as they hate Golden Beacon's guts. We needed everyone on hand to fend off a potential alien invasion. The other CSF fleets were busy with their own regions, and it would take much time for the Sol and Arcturus fleets to mobilize. Until then, Shanxi was very much on its own. Losing Lionhardt's ships meant losing men and women who could fend off an alien fleet.

Minutes ticked by. I quietly began tapping my foot on the inactive accelerator in my Gunstrike's cockpit. Oswin's negotiations were getting drawn out, and if I had learned anything from listening to my dad's business rants back on Arcturus, drawn out negotiations were a terrible sign.

Eventually, the man himself spoke in the Battle Net. Unfortunately, he said the exact words I didn't want to hear.

"This is Father Oswin, to all allied forces." Another announcement came from the Battle Network. "Despite my efforts, Brother Lionhardt has refused to stand down. He no longer walks the path. He now threatens to destroy what we've been fighting for. Make sure that doesn't happen."

"By Beacon's Light!" A chorus of Beacon pilots responded.

I resisted the urge to yell Terra Firma on the network. I knew that would do the exact opposite of ingratiating myself with them, but imagining their ticked off reactions to it made it quite tempting.

The former Secessionist pilots sortied out one by one, Skoda Type-35s and their one Hroeger launched from their ship's catapults with fine tuned precision. Once the airspace was clear enough, it was our turn to sortie.

"Blue Team, launching!"

My team of Gunstrikes launched from our side of the Risima, while Verns' Red Team simultaneously launched from their side. Flanking us were Green and Gold Team, joining us on the offensive. Teams Purple and Grey from the Darrian and Loanie respectively were held in reserve, alongside a handful of Golden Beacon's MS teams. By my guess, both sides were roughly equal in strength. It will have to be the skill of everyone involved that tips the balance.

The first shots fired came not from Golden Beacon, nor did it come from Lionhardt's splinter force. Instead it came from the CSF warship behind us. The Risima and its escorts launched a volley of Minovsky Emitter Missiles at the enemy. They detonated far from the enemy ship, creating a large haze of Minovsky particles which distorted the Splinter Force ship's long range targeting abilities. A second volley was fired, then a third. The battlespace would be thoroughly saturated with Minovsky Particles by the time we'd get to firing range.

Our combined force trailed in its immediate wake, where the dispersed Minovsky Particles would be at its most dense. As it happens, Blue Team pulled up right beside the Hroeger and its two wingmen.

I checked my helmet's HUD. We were some six minutes away before entering effective firing range. Plenty of time to try and get some answers from the kid, like how many other kids did Golden Beacon use... or why the hell was she a pilot in the first place?

I drifted my Gunstrike closer to the Hroeger, then activated my close range laser communicator. Contact communication would've been far more reliable... but this was a Hroeger... even if it was friendly, I'd rather keep a little bit of distance from it. The closer I got to the Hroeger, the louder the music it's pilot played became. It was rock and roll again, from a different artist that I couldn't quite recognize.

"Hey." I greeted, as soon as my laser communicator connected. I tried to sound as friendly and non-threatening as I could. "Sorry about what Verns said a couple of days ago. He can be a bit... sensitive when it comes to his family."

That wasn't the exact truth. Lord knows Verns' relationship with his parents is quite... complicated. From what he would tell me, they didn't quite approve of him joining the Space Force. I don't quite know the details, but from what I gather, they wanted him to take up politics and join the Shanxi Congress. Oswin's little dig must've reminded him of his parent's disapproval.

"Oh hey!" The kid's electronically filtered voice greeted in return. She sounded surprised... not that I blame her. We were enemies up until a few days ago. She quickly lowered the volume on the music she was playing so that we could converse better. "Yeah... umm... I uh... understand. Family is uh... it's a touchy subject for me too."

I could only imagine how touchy it was for her. She was a child soldier, after all. It was hard to believe her parents would approve of her fighting like this. Did Golden Beacon adopt her? Did they abduct her instead? My mind raced as I thought of the possibilities. No, this wouldn't do. We were headed into battle. There's no point pondering about a child soldier's missing parents if I might not even make it out of this fight alive. Well... I could probably make it out of this furball alive, but only if I focused on it.

Oh well, this was a good icebreaker. If things went well, I could try and follow up on this the next time we got the chance.

"I see." Was my answer. I really didn't know what else to say. "Well, it's been nice talking to you. You've great taste in music, by the way!"

I waited a moment, but no answer came from the Hroeger. All I could hear was that rock and roll song still being broadcasted out of the machine. Thinking about it again, maybe right now wasn't the best time to break the ice. We both have our plates full for the next few hours, and adding 'making new friends' would probably be more than we could chew.

It is what it is, I suppose. If she didn't want to talk, then I wouldn't push her.

I was going to drift my mobile suit away from the Hroeger, closer to the Congressional Forces that I was more comfortable with... but then I remembered something.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked the kid. "I don't think I've caught it before."

Another period of tense silence followed, with only the hum of machinery and muffled music to fill the void. I winced, worrying that I may have pushed a bit too far. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to get so familiar so soon. She had no reason to-

"Rosen." She suddenly replied. Her voice was hesitant, unsure. Then, she cleared her throat and spoke again. "My- my name is Rosen Spring."

-000-

"Turioid Mobile Weapon Systen incoming from our flanks!"

"Intensify leftside barrage! Don't let them through!"

"We can't lock on!"

"Enemy MoWS are firing!"

"Brace for impact!"

The sim-bridge shuddered as the hydraulic arms holding it up violently shook the compartment. The faux explosion subsided and the Turian bridge crew currently taking part in the excercise returned to yelling.

"Damage report!"

"Severe hull breaches throughout the leftside sections! Spinal weapon mount damaged!"

"Can we still fi-"

Before the captain in charge could finish his sentence, the sim-bridge shook again. This one was more violent than the last, simulating a much more devastating hit from the contact's warship guns. As the shaking subsided, monitors all over the training station went blank. The hydraulic systems slowly lowered the compartment down to ground level, where it then 'docked'. The monitors only came back online with a red warning sign, accompanied by a VI announcement.

"Combat simulation is over. Please stand by in the waiting room while results are compiled."

Groans, curses, and other such shows of frustration rang out across the sim-bridge. They'd been doing so well up to that point, then the entire simulation turned on them. In fact, if the crew had managed to keep up their previous rate, they might have ended the sim as the single most successful crew today.

Unfortunately -or fortunately, it depends on the perspective- Commodore Magarius still held the top score in the current excercises... not that it meant much, really. The recently promoted Commodore had the benefit of being more intimate with the combat data collected from the 314 Incident. That data was fed to the sim-bridge VI, which allowed the trainers at Fort Zere to create a series of different virtual excercises, all in preparation for the upcoming expedition. One could say Herac had a bit of an unfair advantage on these excercises and he would wholeheartedly agree with that statement.

That being said, his score was highest because of how the VI processed the collected data. Magarius destroyed five out of the seven unidentifed ships which were simulated in the excercise. To achieve that, he had to sacrifice nine of his own, out of a formation of fourteen. Almost double the losses, costing near two-thirds of his forces... and this was yet to count the ships that were damaged but not destroyed. It was difficult for the Commodore to be proud of that score, knowing that had it been a real battle his 'victory' would've cost the lives of thousands.

Concerningly, Magarius' new superior didn't quite see it that way. The Commodore had been placed under an Old Breed Admiral, and one with quite the notoriety at that.

Desolas Arterius.

"Those damned spineless imps!" The Admiral seethed. "How are we supposed to pacify the aliens in the field, when we can't even take them on in a simulator?!"

Magarius and Arterius were both in the observation deck, where they'd watch the different captains and Commodores run the exercise again and again. At first, it was frustrating to watch his peers fail repeatedly. Later on, it became disheartening. Magarius could only sigh. The gulf between Primarch Lacinius' aspirations and the reality they faced was immense. Herac feared for the amount of bodies Lacinius and Arterius would need to throw at the problem needed to bridge that gulf. Everything he'd seen so far indicated to him, that the answer would be too much.

Of course, Magarius had brought his concerns to Arterius... tactfully, this time. Despite believing he had been in the right, and that he was unjustly punished, the recently promoted Commodore had indeed learned from his tussle with Skyllian Sector Command.

The Admiral was polite enough to hear out Magarius' concerns, but his response was troubling.

"That's what the simulators are for." Magarius recalled what Desolas told him in response. "There hasn't been a threat that the Turian Nation couldn't defeat. Once our forces are used to fighting through their radiation interference, they'll fall to us just like any other foe."

That was three days ago... or was it four? Watching sailors and officers rotate in and out of the sim-bridge every day, day in, day out was starting to blend into each other.

In any case, Arterius wasn't entirely wrong. There hasn't been an enemy that the Turian Military couldn't vanquish. Sometimes it would be quickly, like with the Terminus Coalition. Sometimes it would take years, if not decades, like with the Krogan. Turian society was similar to their Krogan adversaries in that they were willing to stomach the damage if it meant they could defeat the enemy in the long run. The problem is, that was if the people were united. As of right now, united was the furthest word one could use to describe the Empire. Primarch Lacinius' decision to soldier on exacerbated the rift between the Old Breed and Reformers. Much as Magarius couldn't stand their bickering before, it was now several orders of magnitude worse. Military Council meetings and decision making have ground to an absolute halt. The Reformers which voted against the expedition doubled down on their stance. Those who were initially swayed to vote for the expedition found themselves changing their stance now that the Citadel Council stood against it.

The Old Breed -on the other hand- were as obstinate as ever. They predictably dug in their heels and held their ground. An admirable choice to make, had this been an actual battle. The problem was, this wasn't a battle. This was a political situation. Magarius was perfectly comfortable in admitting that politicians and diplomats would be better equipped to tackle this situation. That the Old Breed were so stuck in their ways, unwilling to compromise like a significant number of Reformers were, incensed the Commodore. Only making things worse was Vakarian pulling strings and getting him assigned to the expedition as one of its many squadron commanders, because of course Lacinius would put a notorious Old Breed admiral like Arterius in charge!

At this rate, Magarius wasn't sure how much damage control he could do.

The Commodore watched as another batch of bridge crew and officers rotated into the sim-bridge. The cycle begins again. Herac hoped that this batch would finally be the one to surpass his score.

Deep inside, he knew that wasn't happening.

-000-

"Irena, watch your flank!" I heard Verns yell out.

A quick turn to my left revealed an enemy Skoda barreling right towards me, beam axe in hand. With no time to aim properly, I reflexively tossed away my mobile suit's shield, freeing up its left hand to draw the beam saber stored in the rear skirt. My bright pink beam blade clashed against the enemy's neon green as I blocked the Skoda's attack

"You Congress dog!" The enemy pilot yelled at me through the open channel. "You may have fooled Father Oswin, but we see throu-"

I didn't let him finish his sentence. My suit's right hand was free, and it still held my beam rifle. While the Skoda was still in blade lock with me, I brought my rifle about, then fired. At point blank range, I didn't need to lock on... or to aim for that matter. The first shot hit the Skoda's left thigh, severing the rest of its leg. Having lost a significant amount of its thrust, I was able to push back the Skoda, kick it away, then delivered two more shots on it's chest. The Secessionist mobile suit exploded before its pilot could eject his cockpit.

"Thanks for the heads up!" I said to my friend.

"Thank me when we get out of this mess!" Was his response.

In this intense furball, the two of us had gotten separated from our respective teams. While I knew Blue 2 and 3 were still alive, the status of Red Team was not so clear. Blue Team was on our way to back up Verns' team after Red 3 started calling for assistance, but that was fifteen minutes ago... and in a firefight like this, a lot could happen in fifteen minutes.

The two of us flew to behind the wreck of a Secessionist cargo hauler which had been destroyed during the ensuing fight. The fighting was everywhere, without regard for battle lines or formations, but a lull had formed around this now abandoned wreck. Verns and I took cover here while we assessed our status and figured out what to do next.

The original plan of attack was to disable the enemy's hyperbeam turrets before warships of both sides entered firing range of each other. That plan quickly fell apart when it turned out that Lionhardt somehow had more mobile suits on the field than we did. If I had to guess, they scrapped together all their spare parts into extra units to be piloted by whoever they could stuff into the cockpit. My reasoning was that a lot of the Secessionist pilots felt like rookies. Many couldn't hold formation, more couldn't coordinate as a team, and the few that could didn't fight with the finesse and skill expected of a trained pilot. Their sheer numbers broke the allied formations apart, but at the same time they couldn't exploit the chaos properly, creating this horrid mess.

"We have to rally everyone together and refocus our attack. The enemy is disorganized right now, with enough mobile suits, we could break through the Combat Air Patrol line and hit their warships!" I said into the Battle Network.

I cursed when all I got in return was static. A quick equipment check showed that my command antennae had been severed during the fighting. I was stuck to short range communicators.

"Verns, my long range comms are down!" I told him. "Can you send the rally call?"

As I did so, I removed my beam rifle's e-cap and stored it on a hardpoint on my Gunstrike's right side waist. As soon as it locked in, power from my mobile suit's reactor began recharging the battery. I then grabbed the spare e-cap on the left side waist and loaded it on my weapon.

"We don't have the time!" Verns argued. "Allied ships will enter firing range in a few minutes. Regrouping will only waste what little time we have left!"

His beam bazooka drew power directly from the Gunstrike's reactor, so he didn't need to swap out energy packs. Instead he flipped open the emergency radiators on the weapon's rear end, speeding up the cooling process.

"The two of us won't be able to make it there in time!"

"You don't need to worry about that!" A different voice chimed in.

It was the Hroeger's pilot, Rosen. Her machine rapidly approached us, stopping only when she 'landed' on the wrecked cargo hauler. She was equipped with a strange weapon. It was long, appearing like a polearm weapon, but I noticed panels and bits on the rear end that suggested moving parts. Was her spear also a gun? That would explain why Rosen's machine was carried so few equipment compared to us.

"Brother Lionhardt doesn't have any Hroegers in his fleet." She said to us. "He's got nothing that can keep up with this baby. Leave it to me and I'll blast a hole in their lines while you two can rush the Courageous, his flagship."

It wasn't a very sound plan, but it was the best we could come up with in such a short amount of time. I didn't know how good a pilot Rosen was, but I figured she must have been fairly good if Oswin entrusted a Hroeger to her care. I decided to put a little bit of faith in her.

"It's risky, but I suppose we can make it work."

"Risky's understating it..." Verns grumbled. "But yeah, we can do this."

"Alright!" Rosen said, almost too enthusiastically.

Did it not bother her that we were fighting and killing people that a few days ago, she would've considered allies? It certainly bothered me a bit how willing Golden Beacon was to take up arms against each other.

"I'll take the lead!" Rosen continued. "I'll show you how a real pilot fights!"

The Hroeger zoomed off, leaving Verns and I to play catch up. Rosen drove her machine hard and fast, the widening gap between us reminding me just how dangerous these machines were. When she began clashing with the Secessionist Skodas, the Hroeger's superior performance was hammered home, hard. Rosen fought like a whirlwind, her black and red suit moving like a blur. I watched as she impaled a Skoda with her beam spear, before twirling the polearm around as a rifle stock and pistol grip unfolded on the opposite end of its beam emitter. Rosen's Hroeger quickly grabbed on to the pistol grip, firing three high powered shots in rapid succession, two of which were killing blows.

It was a sight as terrifying as it was awe inspiring. The one encounter I had with a Hroeger years ago scared me to death, and that Hroeger was nowhere near as impressive as Rosen was!

"No time to gawk, Irena!" My friend chided me. His Gunstrike boosted right past mine as he charged towards the gap left by Rosen's insane display of skill.

"Right!"

I followed Verns, sparing only one more glance at the flurry of death and destruction that was Rosen Spring, before diving head first into fire once more.

With many of the enemy's mobile suit pilots preoccupied fighting Rosen... or for a select few, running away from her... Verns and I managed to slip past the enemy CAP line. We homed in on the center of Lionhardt's formation, the Immortal Class Battleship going by the name Courageous. It was a massive ship, just like Oswin's Sorcerer, but this one bristled with more air defense weapons. Many seemed to be ad hoc weaponry, last minute additions meant to supplement the battleship's defenses. From beam flak guns, spray rocket launchers, even conventional Vulcan guns, Verns and I faced a veritable wall of firepower. The two of us took extreme evasive maneuvers, dodging left to right, up and down, even boosting backwards every so often to avoid taking hits. When an opening presented itself, we'd return fire. Beam Vulcan guns raked Courageous' hull, the low output weapon barely warping the armored plates. It was, however, more than enough to destroy the bolted on weaponry that supplemented the ship's actual air defense. With the wall of firepower slowly weakening, I began firing my beam rifle, hitting the armored beam flak turrets which posed the greatest threat to the both of us.

Several bolts of green beam shots whizzed past me from the left, missing me by a hair's length. I jerked my unit's head to where the shots came from, revealing an incoming Skoda armed with a beam machine gun. He was firing in short, controlled bursts... which while it gave him better recoil control, also gave me gaps that I could exploit. I reactivated the beam saber in my machine's left hand, then charged straight at the offending Skoda. The anti-air fire targeting me had slackened, likely due to the gunner's fears of hitting the friendly Skoda. The attacking Secessionist pilot kept firing his beam machine gun as he too closed the distance. He probably thought I was easy pickings without my shield, but he was dead wrong.

With the beam saber active, I began spinning my Gunstrike's left wrist at extremely high RPMs. This was an emergency trick taught to us CSF pilots, only to be used in the direst of circumstances. At such high rotation speeds, spinning beam saber formed a sort of beam shield, which I put in front of me to block the Skoda's hail of beam shots. I could tell the opposing pilot had panicked at the sight since he seized up and kept firing, instead of boosting backwards to avoid my attack. Thanks to his momentary lapse in judgement, entering melee range was easy... but instead of cleaving the Skoda in half, I stopped spinning my beam saber and instead shoulder rammed into it. I redirected the charge towards Courageous, carrying the Skoda down with me as sort of shield. If the gunners in the Lionhardt's battleship was hesitant to fire before, they wouldn't even do it now.

In a move as insane as it was desperate, I drove the Skoda right into Courageous' armored citadel, where its command bridge was located. I slammed the Secessionist machine violently into the ship before finishing it off with my beam saber. I only managed to avoid the following explosion which rocked the battleship and left a burning hole in its front. I fired three shots into that burning gap in the armor, tearing apart the ship's insides causing the few windows on the damaged area to explode outwards.

Having finished my attack, I distanced myself from Courageous. Now it was Verns' turn to go on the offensive.

I couldn't be 100% sure about it, but it was highly likely I had decapitated the ship's command structure. Whatever the case, Verns used the ship's faltering state to his advantage. He landed his Gunstrike on the battleship's armored belt, then fired his beam bazooka at point blank range. He held the trigger, letting the weapon fire without stopping until he had burned through Courageous' armor... and even then, he didn't stop. Verns disabled the safety limiter on his beam bazooka, firing as the weapon overheated and flipped open its now red hot radiators. The high powered beam cut ravaged the ship's internals, burning through armored bulkheads and crew compartments until it finally breached the proud warship's Mass Effect core. A massive explosion erupted from the ship, the perfect cue for my friend to finally make himself scarce.

The ensuing explosion was spectacular. The Courageous was quite literally split in half as the damaged Mass Effect core detonated with all the force of a small nuclear weapon. Shrapnel and debris flew every which way, and the two of us weren't so lucky that we could dodge them all. Our Gunstrikes were battered. It was a miracle we didn't lose them at all!

With Lionhardt gone, the Secessionist force fell into disarray. The allied formation of CSF and Golden Beacon warships opened fire with their hyperbeam cannons, tearing apart the enemy. Verns and I drifted away from the battlespace slowly, our mobile suits held to each other as to not let the other drift too far apart. We watched as the combined firepower of near twenty warships devastated the enemy, like fireworks to cap off a show.

The remnants of Lionhardt's forces did their damndest to fight back, but their fate was sealed. Sixteen new warships arrived on the scene, all of them broadcasting CSF ident codes. It was the Shanxi's famous twin ships, the Milo and Akuo, both of which were Nikos Class Battlecruisers. They may have been too late to contribute anything to the battle, but they sure as hell would speed up the mop up effort.

A team of Gunstrikes from the Milo came over to Verns and I, to check in on our status. Once they were close enough, I spoke into my communicator.

"So the twin darlings of Shanxi finally decide show up! I feel so honored." I said to them, half laughing. I was too tired to be mad at them for arriving only as the battle wrapped up.

"Well, Commodore Autumn did say she wasn't sure if we could make it, no promises made, no promises broken and all that." The leading Gunstrike from the Milo responded in jest. "Don't worry, we'll try not to steal all the credit this time."

I could only laugh at that.

"Yeah... you damn well better."

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A/N:

Aaand that about wraps up the first 'arc' of this story. There'll be a bit of a timeskip between this chapter and the next. I don't want to make the same mistake as my other fic and get bogged down in too much details, so this timeskip is meant to move things along. Chapters involving strategy meetings are cool and all, but sometimes it's drags the entire story to a crawl.

I might publish a timeline and basic codex before I publish the next chapter. We'll see. Most of the important points are fixed, but it's the minor details that are still shifting around. I don't actually have a fixed play by play of how this story is going to go, only a general outline of the plot and what I *intend* to happen. Some things will change from the original plan as I move forward depending on if I think it'll work, or if it's better to cut it off. I'll compile all of the cut stuff and put it on a 'behind the scenes' doc that I'll publish whenever I finish this fic.

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THIS WORK IS CROSSPOSTED IN FFNET AND AO3