Kidou Senshi Gundam UC Vol 8 Chapter 2

May 9th, GMT 13:45. There were clear skies above Dakar, but the streets was shrouded in a gloomy smell of a fire disaster, and the rubble, which may take a while to be removed, were still scattered everywhere; however, the slightly black smoke shrouding the skies for several days had subsided. The sun, close to the Equator, was not blocked by anything as it shone upon the streets littered with ash.

Kai Shiden did not hate the heat of summer, but the scorching blaze of this African continent was too extreme for him. He put his coat, which he had no intention of wearing, on his shoulder, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and stopped at the Avenue Pasteur of the autonomous street.

He looked up at the large block from beyond the toppled trucks and collapsed buildings. 8 days ago, a mobile armor a.s.saulted Dakar single-handed, and now, its large hill-like body was covered by dust-proof sheet used for construction, while its skeletal frame that was dissected was left on this autonomous street. The shoulder armors poking out from the sides were removed, and the cannon that was used to destroy the high rise building of the Hotel Empire was isolated, but this enemy unit debris looked extremely abnormal, its height being a match for a 10 floor building. Everything looked like a remnant of a nightmare left in the wasteland of the summer heat, whether it was the maroon armor that could be seen through the gap of the plastic sheet, or the claw that still looked alive as it embedded itself on the road surface.

The path the mobile suit pa.s.sed through showed the scene of a tragedy akin to that of a carpet bombing. The work to search through the remains of the rubble and the recovery of life essentials was going on; fire trucks and cranes were gathered, sirens were blazing everywhere, and the disaster victims were lined up in a single file in front of the hydrant trucks. On the other side, a GM type with a rifle was moving with its chin up, chest out, and disc-shaped transformable mobile suits flew by in the sky. Did I bring a camera? Kai subconsciously thought, and then got rid of this notion wryly. I’m not in this position now. The ones in charge of reporting the current situation in Dakar is the current reporters working for the news agencies. If there were people making a news report of the people stepping on the gla.s.s scattered on the road, running out from the Senate building, they would be able to make it in time for the night news. Their immediate priority would be to prepare the report they wanted to send to their headquarters in their trailers, charge into the news center at the Central Senate Council hall.

This was the biggest terrorist attack since the ‘colony drop’ 3 years ago, and it had been a week since the Federation government issued an emergency order. Rumors of a 3rd Neo Zeon war started to rumble, causing Dakar to not only become a simple disaster zone, but also a forum for government policies, an important place to interview more than usual. Kai glanced aside at the reporters who were frantically getting on the vehicles, and once he left the avenue, went off to the Senate Council hall he saw. The Greek-styled pure white buildings lost most of the gla.s.s in front of, but it still preserved some form of emanation, showing that it was the nest of authority. The mobile armor used up all its power approximately 200m in front of the building, and its crustacean-like arms were stabbed into the ground, still showing the dissatisfaction of being unable to reach the throne.

He pa.s.sed by the “Guntank II” that was as ridiculously large as the tank, went by a series of security checkpoints, and entered the hall. The lobby was filled with the buzzing of the lobbyists, reporter teams, protestors like usual, but the scene of the repair workers going in and out, the armed soldiers protesting, gave a vibe that this was different from usual. Kai followed the instructions he was given, rode on the elevator and went up to the 8th floor. He stepped onto the corridor that was well furnished like a hotel, and saw flags of individual countries and the entrance of the Central Senate office, where the Earth Federation flag was. After walking down the long corridor for another 2 minutes, he found the office of Upper House Senator Ronan Marcenas of the first const.i.tutional area in North America.

He pa.s.sed through the ajar door, and first saw a ladder used by the workers to change the light panels on the ceiling. He looked across, and found cracks covering a third of the floor, and approximately 10 general stuff members were in the dim admin room answering calls. He could see that the tables, totalling more than 30, were rearranged back to their original positions, and the dust and rubble scattered on the floor was already cleared up; however, this could not hide the signs of chaos brought about by the unprecedented tremors and shocks. The phones continued to ring at this point, and the contents most likely included the usual contacts, catch-up, those trying to get benefits for the reconstruction, protests, or people donating money, holding to get involved with the military. Ever since the Defence Minister John Bauer mentioned about war, the people coveting the special needs of war started to take action secretly, and the owner of this office had the political power to pa.s.s judgement over their aspirations. The duty staff was gauging the importance of the callers, looking at the terminal monitor as they planned the schedule, looking equally tense.

Kai arrived a little earlier than the appointed time. There was no one at the counter, and Kai did not want to distract the staff that was completely focused in their jobs, and sighed as he decided to wait a little longer. He remembered that there was an ash tray beside the elevator hall, and took out the cigarettes he kept with him at all times ever since he started as a writer; he intended to leave the office first, “Are you Mr. Kai Shiden?” but a line stopped him.

“I’ve been waiting for you. I’m the secretary who conversed with you on the phone, Patrick Marcenas.”

The appropriately tanned face showed a bright smile; Kai read the reports on this man who was approximately 30 years old. He was the son-in-law married into the Marcenas family, and the first secretary of Ronan who was ready to get ready for a local election. Kai held the outstretched hand from Patrick, looked straight at the latter’s smile that was hiding a tense expression in it, and smiled back. “Please follow me.” After this, Patrick said and turned around as he pa.s.sed through the office that was still buzzing with phone calls.

“I’m really sorry that we couldn’t come out to invite you in. As you can see, we’re still in a devastating mess…was the flight okay for you?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while since I rode on a military transport carrier. It was certainly a special treatment; I wonder if it’s because of the prestige the Senator had.”

Kai’s voice had some spite in this. Unlike the military, who wanted to restrict people from entering and leaving, all reporter-related personnel wanted to enter Dakar. While every major media center was spending large sums to get a few of their people in, only Ronan could let a freelance reporter ride in on a transport carrier.

“I’m really sorry, but at this time, we can’t ensure any flight seats for civilians.” Patrick answered as he faced forward. He glanced aside at Kai, and then, seemed to make up his decision as he spoke up,

“It’s personal, but it’s really an honor to see you. Actually, I’m a fan of yours, Mr Kai, not only for your talent as a reporter, but also—”

“As the weak Kai Shiden, a crew member of the original “White Base”.”

Kai spoke up first, “Ah, that’s not…” and Patrick, who was fl.u.s.tered, hurried up and looked away. This view was kept aside for a moment, but it was not uncommon to see people say such lines after seeing war doc.u.mentaries through their youth. “A lot of things written in the books are wild stories.” Kai showed a wry smile as he reminded Patrick.

“Some writers have their own conclusions before they interview, and they won’t change it even when I do an interview check for such people. All books related to “White Base” seem to be of this kind too, but it certainly taught me something.”

It just so happened I came to this profession after the war. Patrick did not look at Kai , who continued on, and put his hand behind his back, lowering his reddened face. “I’m sorry for raising something I shouldn’t have mentioned.” Upon hearing this reply, Kai looked forward at the office approaching in front of him.

There were interviewers who look down on their interviewees, and there were also interviewees who manipulate the interviewers, wanting to turn the interviewer into a tower of propaganda for them. What was the reason the owner of this room, the Senator of the Settlement Issues Council, summoned him from Paris? It was impossible that he would be looking to ask Kai to write a biography after this Dakar Incident and all sorts of strange events. It seemed that this was a secret battle between Neo Zeon, the Vist Foundation and the Senate Council, and Kai heard of the situation through acquaintances in the industry.

Whatever the case was, this would be a tough battle for Kai. He raffled his grey hair and put on his coat. This undistinguished 35 year old looked like a proper reporter after adjusting his appearance. This was the first thing this young man, who was enlisted on the spot while studying in High School, and survived the events of the One Year War on the “White Base”, learned after leaving the secular world.

(…In the past, the Princ.i.p.ality of Zeon brought great damage to Earth through its blitzkrieg operations. Some felt that they had to do this against the Federation, which outnumbered Zeon forces by a hundred. But what are we getting when we do this? Up till now, we’re just slandered with the name of butchers who took the lives of half of humanity, unable to shake off our hatred. One might say that this price was overly ma.s.sive for a mere temporary tactical advantage. We, the people of the Zeon Republic understood this clearly. When the Dakar incident happened, our government sent in aid faster than any other side, showing that we are reflecting on our past misdeeds. We’re decisively against terrorism, and though we’re comrades, we do not recognize the existence of Neo Zeon. However, a group of people in the Federation Council a.s.sociate us, the Republic, with Neo Zeon, and insist on investigating us. They use the merger 4 years later as an excuse, and it’s not just one media stations saying that the Republic has gone out of control, which really upsets us. War is not beneficial, and we know—”

The moment the man on the television, the door made of Mahogany let out a knocking, and the guest and Patrick appeared.

This man Puerto Rican's face had a unique look, and he certainly was the one Ronan saw on the recent photograph. “Welcome.” Ronan Marcenas spoke up and went to the door to invite him in. Ronan had learned, inherently through his life as a politician, that being straightforward to someone he met for the first time and exerting strength of his grip was a way to take the initiative on someone; however, Kai Shiden did not look intimidated as he held the hand, deliberately showing a slight smile.

Ronan sensed that it would be a major obstacle for him to overcome, and let the other man sit at the chair of his office table, “Is there anything you wish to drink?” he asked, but was faced with an unfaltering expression, “No need for that.” It seemed that this man fully understood how not to be led by the other party. You can head back down. Ronan told Patrick with his eyes as he sat down on the chair at the office, his back facing the window. Kai did not look at his actions as he looked towards the television, still switched on, with a relaxed expression.

The man answering the interview from some major television broadcasting agency was lamenting the difficulties the Zeon Republic had, and his voice and expression were full of pretense. “Certainly a melodrama suitable for the afternoon.” Ronan finished, and watched Kai’s reaction. The latter merely gave a glance and withstood the initial volley without expression.

“That’s the Defense Minister of the Zeon Republic, Monaghan Baharov. He’s a man who bears the tragedy of a defeated country, but he’s working secretly with people of the old Princ.i.p.ality, and has splurged a lot of money in the revival of the Federation. He’s also investing in the rightists promoting Zeonism, even collecting award winning papers from the Republic Army.”

“Award winning papers?”

“The themes are regarding the issues over safety and security, and basically, it’s a selection test used to sort out the rightists. After that, the ones he picked out will be sent to important places, and if there’s a need, he can use them as chess pieces.”

“And this necessary moment is?”

“I don’t understand that much, but they aren’t exactly hoping to fight the Federation. The recent economic downtime had brought about an increase in the radicals, but most of the Republic still do not like to fight after what happened in the Wars. However, the “Sleeves” are using their main forces, the “Geara Zulu”, which development’s is partly related to Anaheim. The central party are the people from the old Zeonic companies, and some of those people are working under Monaghan’s company…in this sense, we can’t see them as playing games only.”

He switched off the television with the remote and looked at the face on the other side of the table. If this were any ordinary reporter, he would be hooked on to this inside scoop. However, Kai did not have a single note as he merely looked back cautiously. So a man who experienced countless harrowing experiences of life and death in his youth can remain this calm? Kai’s face overlapped with the mental image of Bright Noa Ronan saw in his own house, leaned his back on the leather, “I’ve read through your popular work” and got down to business.

“The “Sunset of the Giants”, “h.e.l.l in Heaven”…each of these pieces had a unique entry point. There are a lot of these supposed anti-war reports, but it’s rare to see such works with anti-war sentiments like yours. Is this style due to your upbringing as a pilot on the White Base team?

Kai showed a stoned unsmiling expression as he did not answer this question. This boy was involved in the flames of Side 7 when the War started, was taken onto “White Base” as a refugee, and became a locally-enlisted soldier, the pilot of a newly developed mobile suit. It certainly sounded like something any war fanatic would like, a glamorous tale of a hero; however, the common understanding about him in many records stated that he was an opportunist with a vicious mouth. Despite that, he was trained by the military, and after the War, he enrolled in the Belfast University under the social reentry program, majored in journalism, worked at a news agency, and finally became a famous freelance reporter; it was said that a lot of young people respected him and felt familiarity with him.

However, such appraisal to Kai was most likely just a fetter, and Ronan could imagine this from his experience talking with Bright. As Kai remained silent, watching his own att.i.tude, “But there’s something I’m very concerned with.” Ronan let out a probing voice.

“It’s your viewpoint regarding Zeon. You doubted the s.p.a.ce Administration after the war, and revealed the truth about the oppressed s.p.a.cenoids, but criticized the activities of the Zeon remnant forces harshly…to a point where you seem to hate them; you’re especially critical of Char, who led the Neo Zeon army. The reporters supporting the s.p.a.cenoids are mostly a little sympathetic to him…”

“Basically, the intellectuals who’ll criticize such writing are the dissidents against this fad.”

Kai shrugged as he crossed his long legs, and continued,

“That’s why it’s easier to accept a writer who writes in a way that sympathizes with the Zeon remnants. As for why I’m not on the same side, is it because I was a pilot who fought against Char on White Base? It’s a conditional yes. Since I’m a little famous, I can ignore the norm of the industry and write on. If there’s any basis for me, it’s that I believe that the media isn’t supposed to be a wind vane.”

“Wind vane…being blown by the wind called the public…is it?”

Kai did not answer, and as their expressions of suppressed emotions met, Ronan decided that it was time as he stood up and turned to the window behind him. The newly changed gla.s.s dimly reflected Kai’s expression, watching Ronan’s actions.

“A certain politician wants to reveal extremely important insider information that has something to do with security. What will you do if you’re that politician?”

“I’ll call in the reporters from all major media stations and arrange a news conference. No matter what, that person definitely won’t look for a freelance reporter.”

This voice suppressed Ronan’s thoughts and split his thoughts in half. His lips twist in a smile, “But that politician doesn’t trust the media.” and answered,

“No matter what that politician says, it’ll merely be broadcasted for 30 seconds at most on the news. Even if it becomes a featured story, once the commercials end and the sports news begin, no one will think anything of it. There’s the ratings, hits, printing numbers, advertising revenue. The bigger the media gets, the wind called the public will get stronger, and will air these many viewpoints as a correct view. In this sense, a freelancer’s work—”

“Isn’t as free as what the term indicates. As long as the economic activity forbids such releases, there are some rules we have to abide by.”

“I feel that my insight can still distinguish which are the industry rogues that are only thinking of earning money, and which aren’t. It’s troubling if it’s a weak idealist, but there are solid professionals who insist on following their own principles even if they do follow the rules.”

Kai remained silent, not denying at all. Very good. Ronan exhaled and sat opposite Kai.

“Have you heard of the “Laplace Box”?”

Ronan saw that this reporter, who remained unflappable up till this point, showed signs of faltering. “I did hear rumors about it …” Kai lowered his crossed legs and muttered. “What kind of rumors?” Ronan kept watching Kai as he asked.

“An acquaintance planned to use this as a featured topic. The release was set, and the first issue was serialized on a magazine, but there was no second print. A month later, even the magazine itself was out of business, even though it printed quite a lot.”

“Once the advertising revenue is cut off, a magazine can’t do anything no matter how good it sells. What about that peer of yours?”

“He’s not in this industry now. I don’t know what happened to him now.”

“Maybe he’s drowned in some sea or became some s.p.a.ce dust. Maybe he was given a little bit of money to live a carefree life. It’s not impossible. It’s not easy to eliminate someone, even for the Vist Foundation.”

Kai’s silent expression showed that he had a minimum understanding of the black mist shrouding the Foundation’s “Box”. “There’s still 30 minutes left.” Ronan looked at the clock on the wall, and said,

“There’s a vote at the conference hall at 3pm, and I can only talk with you until then. After that, you can decide how to deal with this. However, I hope that you can hurry and notify more and more people about this. You’re the only one who can do this and not let the truth be twisted.”

Kai suppressed his doubt and tension from his face as he looked at Ronan’s eyes for no more than 3 seconds. He reached his hand for the bag at his feet, took out a notebook and a tape recorder. Just when he was about to press the switch of the recorder, their eyes met again, and Kai wordlessly put the recorder back in. Ronan smiled slightly and clenched his fists that were on the table.

“I have sufficient evidence to prove that the Vist Foundation is interfering with the Senate Council through improper means, and carrying out battles however they want. The aim of the Foundation is to retake the “Laplace Box” before it gets released, and for this reason, they created more unnecessary damages by having several small skirmishes with Neo Zeon, which is also hoping to get the “Box”. “Industrial 7”, “Palau”, the “Laplace” relic; It’s the same for Dakar and Torrington.”

Kai stopped his hand from writing on, and the sound of the crane far away rumbled the air inside this air-conditioned room. Ronan took this sharp stare from Kai head out and took out a stack of information from his table drawer.

“This is a list of the Senate Council members involved with the Foundation, and they apply special counter-terrorist laws without the recognition of the Senate Council to deploy forces; even till now, they’re profiting off the Foundation. If we don’t rea.s.sign them and rebuild the command structure of the military, it’ll be hard to hope for the revival of security. If this can get the media to use this as a chance to move, the prosecutors who had their heads pressed down by the Foundation finally have some purpose.”

Kai flipped through the list of officials printed on the A4 paper, and looked back with a doubtful look. Ronan leaned his body on the table, and said,

“We’ll do our utmost to protect your personal safety. Of course, the Foundation will use all sorts of means to obstruct us—”

“What can you get?”

Kai raised a finger to stop Ronan from continuing, and asked on, “This “Laplace Box” is said to have the power to topple the Federation government, and the Foundation and the government have a common goal to prevent it from being released. It’ll certainly be an issue if there’s improper interference with the military’s command structure, but can’t you do this before they secure the “Box”?”

“If it were that easy, of course, but the results are just as you see. There’s a need to eliminate interference from the Foundation, unite the military with the government, and face this situation with a reformed att.i.tude.”

Kai snorted as an answer and leaned his back on the chair. His expression was saying that he would not accept such an answer; he was approaching using the nose of a reporter, but he was keeping his distance, watching if he was to be made use of by a politician—this man’s sharper than I thought. Ronan sensed some difficulty, but also felt a delight of a long-awaited intellect agitating his sense, and tapped his fingers on the armrests of the chair.

“You’re asking me what benefits are there for me, is it? A benefit I can get is that I can get a good night’s sleep. I think about the horror if the “Box” falls into Neo Zeon’s hand, what happens if a man like Monaghan uses it, the anxiety of the One Year War nightmare reenacting again…this is what I want to eliminate. I suppose you should understand, since you’re not affected by the trends and continue to notice the danger of Zeon.”

Ronan did not wait for Kai’s response as he again stood up and looked outside the window. The remains of the mobile armor stood behind the legislation building opposite.

“The Federation isn’t as stubborn as what those calling for a change in establishment are saying. As long as there’s an opportunity, this united government that’s less than 150 years old can be toppled easily. As an installation and avenue of resentment outburst, Zeon’s thoughts are too dangerous. Before the Republic hands over its autonomy again, just when this nightmare’s about to end, this radical…the Vist Foundation has to bear responsibility. Also, the “Laplace Box” should be under the control of the Federation government. This is our common understanding.”

“What do you mean by ‘our’?”

“You can consider it to be the view of the ruling faction and military personnel not corrupted by the Foundation, with the Settlement Issues Council leading the charge.”

“So you’re using the chaos of the s.p.a.ce army realignment plan to counter those giving unnecessary equipment in this counter-terrorism plan…is it?”

The pursuing expression was laid upon Ronan’s back, and he hid the pain of being cornered, “This sure is tough.” Kai did not show a smile, and his stare remained unmoved.

“It’s true that a ship that can’t respond quickly or a mobile suit isn’t very suited for counter-terrorism, but even as the appearance of war changes, human sensitivity will not change that easily. There’s also the thinking to preserve the prestige of the nation’s authority.”

“Preserve the authority…”

“A fleet that’s deployed like a tall wall, a powerful mobile suit squad full of invincible warriors; such psychological impact on humans are not to be underestimated, even in this era of where information battles or special forces operations are important. A power that can be seen by the naked eye can cause fear in others, and prevent a second Zeon from appearing again.”

“In other words, you want to use a high wall to surround the Earth by using the authority of the Earth Federation as guarantee, a tall wall with the words ‘obey me’ plastered on it, not budging even if there’s a conversation?”

Ronan resisted the urge to confirm Kai’s view as he narrowed his eyes at the latter, and felt a bitterness of being tricked. “I made a little investigation on your career before I came your, Senator.” Kai again folded his legs and said,

“You brought about a wave of new life for the Federation after the War, and was a liberal, just like the first Prime Minister Ricardo…when you were nominated for the Senate for the first time, this was what the media was praising you by. In fact, you can be considered an anomaly for the Marcenas family after Ricardo was killed. The first thing you did after being elected was to move to Dakar, right? There are several other places for candidacy, but you insisted on coming to Dakar, this land that may be buried by sand a hundred years later as desertification continues.”

Ronan resisted the impact of the wedge striking him in the chest, and barely managed to eke out a wry smile. Kai put his clasped hands on his folded legs and continued without looking away,

“Earth was starting to show signs of recovery due to the s.p.a.ce Migration Plan, but the fact was that the destruction of the One Year War brought it to the brink of danger again. As someone pushing for policies, you had to often experience the urgent needs Earth had, to think of what you had to do next…at that time, there were some who said that you were doing this for the sake of popularity, but this isn’t all, I suppose. You do have belief, you believe in improving human civilization, to continue to coexist together with Earth. You believe that Earth shall be the eternal homeland for humanity, and everyone should head to s.p.a.ce—”

“That’s a mistake by a reporter affected by Zeon. I’m not that much of a radical.”

Ronan immediately interrupted Kai, but he could not seal off the sediment that was oozing out from the scar in his chest as he looked away and let his eyes waver. Right, I did once think of it this way… he muttered in his heart that was full of sediment, and secretly clenched his fists under the table. If I were the change the nature of the Federation, the curse of the “Box” will vanish. If I can grab the ‘future we should have’ with my own hands, I won’t have to fear the “Box”, and I won’t have to restrain my children with the curse of the Marcenas—

“And that you now choose to protect your power.”

Kai said. Ronan’s wavering eyes looked back at him.

“You, who once pleaded that humanity should turn their eyes to s.p.a.ce, now fear the independence movement of s.p.a.cenoids like a plague, and want to build a tall wall around Earth. Why is that?”

“…Humans can’t keep their vibrant youthful energy forever. Once you have the necessary responsibilities, you should understand. Is such an answer not good for you?”

He answered almost instinctively, and felt that he could not continue talking; this catastrophic situation suddenly brought about a tremendous fatigue on him as he sighed. Was this a sigh that indicated the wasted precious time, or was this a sigh over how his past was unexpectedly revealed to him? Ronan remained confused as he was unable to tell “I’m not really unhappy about this.” He heard Kai’s response, and sensed that the latter put down his folded legs as he closed the notebook.

“I do feel that I’m an adult too, but I don’t want to forget how I don’t want to see this in an adult.”

Kai stood up while lowering his stare. “I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to help you here.” Upon hearing Kai’s voice, Ronan knew that this was a conclusion to be expected.

“I’m personally interested in the Vist Foundation and the “Laplce Box”, but it’s not in my nature to be a negative propaganda tool. Please look for someone else.”

“…Captain Bright Noa is also involved. Are you still not going to change your mind even after hearing this?”

There had to be a limit to his struggling. He knew that very well, but Ronan said it out. Kai, who was about to leave, stopped in his tracks and practically rolled his eyes as he looked over his shoulders.

“He’s like you, unwilling to be a lackey thirsty for power, and got rea.s.signed to the Senate Council as a result. Londo Bell’s backers are protecting him, but it’s hard to return him to his position as commander. I still have a way however if we can clear up the conspirators with the Foundation.”

“Senator Ronan, I don’t want to think that being shameless in your actions is what an adult should be.”

The growl caused Ronan to experience a second stab in his chest again. “You should be able to understand.” Kai said and turned away again.

“It’s okay to turn rogue, but for someone like you with such a standing, I hope you don’t show how much you have fallen. Did your son not leave the house because he could not take it?”

It was the final lunge at his wound, and Kai left the room without looking back. This isn’t true, Ronan wanted to yell out, but could not as he watched Kai leave wordlessly. He could not bring himself to call Patrick to send the guest away, and his eyes, which had nowhere to go, escaped upon the photos hanging on the wall. These were photos of himself, whether it was when he appeared on the cover of a weekly magazine, the photo with the Prime Minister back then during the memorial of the end of the War, and so on. Amongst all these photos that clearly showed any pa.s.sers-by his decorated career as a politician, there was a photo of him with his family and the recently built Senate Council hall in the background.

There was his wife, narrowing her eyes, ostensibly complaining that the sunlight in Africa was too strong, Cynthia, who was in the vibrancy of her youth, and Riddhe, who was less than 10 years old. As Ronan stood there, unable to show a sincere smile once he started to understand the rule that this world could not change, Riddhe was showing a weird stiff smile beside him. At that time, he would mimic Ronan’s own actions which he somehow saw, and was often reprimanded by his mother. In fact, Riddhe, who seemed to be giving an adult-manufactured smile, looked just as pitiful as Ronan was.

Right, that child understood. Ronan looked at the door and imagined Kai’s back on it, telling himself the words he could not say out. That child understood everything and accepted the destiny of the Marcenas family. I let that child bear the burden of the “Box”. I wanted to change everything in this generation, but I couldn’t do anything, and added the burden of my father and grandfather upon him.

Ever since the battle of Torrington, there was no news of Riddhe. His “Delta Plus” was reclaimed safely, so he probably was not hurt. This news alone was enough for Ronan. No matter where Riddhe was, no matter what happened to him, he would not betray the Marcenas’ destiny. Even though others could not understand, he could firmly believe so.

That was why he was suffering, that was why he was in pain. Ronan imagined that silhouette similar to his own, suffering from the despair in a place Ronan could not see—a man who never had pressure before would not understand. Ronan looked away from the old family photo, and let out a deep sigh. The rumbling of the cranes outside shook the air in the room, slowly stirring at the emptiness that came with this time.

“A secret code used during the war?”

The body floated down the ramp tilted at a tight angle, and went from the hatch on the floor into the bridge. Gilligan Eustace grabbed onto the handrail at the door, and before the magnets on his soles landed on the floor, there was a reply from the Captain’s seat. “It looks like it’s the same one used during the drop on Earth” Upon hearing this, he trembled with excitement.

“The signal beacon sent has been pinging the same code. We’re still a.n.a.lyzing the contents.”

“Location?”

“In the middle of L1. It seems to be near the ‘light tower’. The ship has been slowing down since just now…”

Captain Hohgy said as he pointed his chin at the navigation window on the left side of the screen. It was not a distance where they could do anything immediately, but Hohgy’s completely relaxed expression made Gilligan unhappy within. After 10 years of military life that did not seem like one, Hohgy ended up with this face that had completely forgotten what it meant to be a warrior. At Gilligan’s own age, this man was involved in real battles against the Federation.

“No doubts about it. This is the ship Lord Monaghan told us of, the “Mock Wooden Horse” of the “Nahel Argama”…”

Gilligan did not look at the face of the Captain, but exchanged looks with the navigation officer, a comrade, holding the steer at the steering seat. The navigation officer facing, looking extremely excited for having a real mission for the first time. The cannons operator, the ship operator and the rest were all feeling excited too, and there were 5 of these cadres working on the bridge. These faces would soon create new history for the Zeon Republic. People like Hohky, who were filled with the knowledge of defeat, the adults who did not accomplish anything, did not have the power to stop them. As Gilligan decided this in his heart, “Tell our country and the “Sleeves” he commanded to the communication operator on the starboard terminal.

“Also, captain. Our “Gulltoppr” will link up with the “Dromi”, and we’ll carry out tracking and observation of the “Mock Wooden Horse”. I hope that we can immediately break ranks and head to L1.”

As Gilligan acted in insubordination as he said these words, the other cadres had their eyes focused on the Captain’s seat. Hohky could not hide the surprised on his face, “What about the support of the training fleet?” he asked with a restrained ship.

“We’ll let the “Bifrest” continue on alone. This is an official port call given to us; we have to let the fleet commander complete it.”

“This is against the treaty! Our army is forbidden from fighting outside our territory without any request from the Federation.”

“The fleet commander has known about it. The main forces of the “Sleeves” will reach the scene, and it’ll take a day at least to reach there. It’s completely useless if everything ends on this call alone…and even if anything happens, Lord Monaghan will deal with it appropriately.”

“This is different from what was agreed on! We’re just in charge of searching, and the rest—”

“Captain, this is the next objective given to the “Wind a.s.sembly”.”

The firm voice caused Hohky’s expression to change. This man had no ambitions, and just wanted to just have a peaceful life in the military and wait for his retirement funds to arrive. What misstep did he take to be dragged into the “Wind’s a.s.sembly”? Perhaps it was when the superior officer taking care of him invited him to the study meet, and he was gradually involved in it. However, the “Wind’s a.s.sembly” did not a.s.sign its important members around for show. If Hohky intended to let this once in a blue moon opportunity slip away, there would be a need to drag him down from the Captain’s seat. Gilligan stamped on the floor and let his body approach Hohky, whose legs were all limp with fear.

Think of how you could dislodge your peer and become a Captain. Did you think it’s because of ability?”

“You b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you dare to be so insolent to your sup—”

“It’s because you’re a superior that I’m saying this. Please don’t forget, that when we reveal the information to the “Sleeves”, we’re already straying off from our lives as Republic soldiers.”

Since the past, the captain had been considered a G.o.d on the ship, someone with absolute authority; now, this captain is treated like this, but Hokhy’s face was red for only an instant. His widened eyes suddenly lost strength, and his shoulders slumped, seemingly having given up, and looked away, ostensibly unable to think of anything else to say. What a pitiful man. Gilligan did not want to waste any time chastising this man, left the Captain’s seat, and floated his body to the window in front.

“The Musai Kai-cla.s.s “Gulltoppr” bridge was constructed not too differently from the original old Republic ship, the Musai-cla.s.s. It was a simple bridge with a large window typical of the current Minovsky Era, and all the functions could be gathered on this one floor. This extremely st.u.r.dy plastic window that was 2m wide and no less than 8m in length was at this point showing the ships of the Chivvay-cla.s.s heavy training ships, and the navigation lights of the fleet flagship “Bifrest” could be seen further in front. It was impossible to see from this point, but there was a Chivvay-cla.s.s training ship behind the “Gulltoppr”, and the “Dromi”, also of the Musai Kai-cla.s.s, was acting as the vanguard. They were in a packed linear formation, surrounding the training ship; this was a basic formation in a offsh.o.r.e s.p.a.ce training. In s.p.a.ce, the distance of 2km would pa.s.s easily, so they had to watch each other’s position to prevent the rear ships from crashing into the front. The ships slowed down do to the unexpected change in course, and the rookies on the training ship were starting to decode the beacon signal.

The guards fleet commander on the flagship “Bifrest” was one of the few survivors of the s.p.a.ce mothership “Doros” that was sunk during the War. He was one of the adults in the Republic after the War, but could not help but keep thinking of aligning with Neo Zeon because of his family, and would keeping delving into knowledge every single day, unlike the ambitiuous Hohky. Whether Hohky would accept this command or not, the fleet would disperse immediately, and the “Bifrest” will lead the two other Chivvay-cla.s.s ships in training. The “Gulltoppr” and the “Dromi” would then take individual action, and what they were about to face would be a sea of real battle, where a single mistake would cost them their lives. Gilligan inhaled through his nose and suppressed the burning sensation in his heart and stepped off the floor. He saw the window show his reflection before he locked, and the uniform of the Republic army he had been used to suddenly felt revolting.

This collared uniform was designed in the same fashion as the Federation army, only that its colors were of Zeon colors, thick green colors, a uniform that felt annoying to him. The old Princ.i.p.ality’s uniform that was full of Zeon flair in the past was removed, and the current Republic only had soldiers with this getup. This felt so cheap compared to the “Sleeves” that emphasized so much on their dress code—the elegant Neo Zeon uniform. This current uniform he was wearing was rid of the Princ.i.p.ality’s flair; they hoped to start afresh, but after 16 years, nothing started. In the name of revival, they accepted one-sided peace treaties, killed off their souls, wore these uniforms, and was so pitiful that they had no honor and pride left.

If this was the proper way of being a Republic’s soldier, there would be no value in walking down this path. Deviating slightly from this path would allow them to live like real warriors. Gilligan crossed through the bridge, and descend from the hatch on the floor down to the deck below. The side of Captain Hohky’s face showed no signs of looking back at him, and overlapped with the face of Gilligan’s father, an advocate of anti-war, which made him even unhappier.

The Republic’s army was not allowed to move outside side 3, their own country’s territory, but there were exceptions. Such exceptions included offsh.o.r.e s.p.a.ce navigation. The training ships that came along were used to ferry new recruits, and the 2 weeks trip around the Earth Celestial sphere was the best chance for the guards fleet ships to get familiar with the technology. There were 4 such trainings each year, and this would be the 45th offsh.o.r.e trip ever since the Republic was created. Thus, the group called the 45th training fleet left from the port of their native area, got the top secret cla.s.sified report from the “Wind’s a.s.sembly” as they were about to pa.s.s by between Earth and the Moon, 2 days after they left.

It was not a coincidence that the two escort Chivvay-cla.s.s ships and the 3 Musai-Kai cla.s.s ships, “Bifrest”, “Gulltoppr” and “Dromi” had members of the “Wind’s a.s.sembly on them”. This organization was said to have thousands, or even ten thousand members, and they were gathered on specific ships; their main priority would be to defend the fleet during its offsh.o.r.e training. The directive of the chairman was that they needed to learn skills for surfing through the s.p.a.ce regions far away, to see the expansive world, but if there was a need, they could act on their own as a battalion.

Just as I wanted, Gilligan thought. The headquarters of the “Wind’s a.s.sembly” was commanded to search for the “Mock Wooden Horse”—Londo Bell’s “Nahel Argama”. There was no specific reason, but if this was a joint operation with the “Sleeves”, it would definitely have something to do with the mysterious events happening the past month. This ‘just in case’ situation had finally arrived; no matter what it was, the premonition that something big was going to happen strongly drove the enthusiasm of Gilligan and the young members.

After the War, the Princ.i.p.ality was subjected to release and execute all the important officials involved with the Zabi family, and they were practically focused to put their foreheads on the ground to beg the Federation for forgiveness. This however was not enough, and the history that followed was etched deeply into his heart, how they offered an entire city to the hungry Federation army, allowing them to go on a wanton rampage defiling women and children, turning him into a member of the Republic’s army. The authority that protected the nation by doing this was this hollow, and the Republic army under the control of the Federation had no authority at all. The Republic army was an army that was suddenly created by the Federation, who once wanted the Republic to disarm themselves, and now, the Federation intended to use them to suppress the Zeon remnants. Their defense directive to open fire before they were attacked hinted that these people were to endure a minimum amount of sacrifice. Even so, the nation never showed signs of regret sacrificing people after the war. The existence of the military itself was against the const.i.tution, and this hint still remained deeply rooted in the Republic government calling itself a peaceful nation.

By deeming an independent war as a crime and abandoning the const.i.tution by deeming it a war without any approval, this ended up bringing about emptiness to the country itself. The Republic soldiers were deemed as petty thieves, and it was a taboo of them to even wear their uniforms and walk down the streets in their country. Those who can endure such a situation aren’t worthy of being called warriors. If we’re children who don’t know about war, the adults are the ones who created this situation where they forget about their pride. They said that they willing become the puppets of the Federation by having a hundred year nation rebuilding plan, but accepted the return of self-autonomy in the year UC 0100 so easily, and said that returning their autonomy was due to the times. The adults kept delaying the issues, and their decisions could only cause adults to make the wrong step, ridding the people of its future.

This was what the “Wind’s a.s.sembly” told them. The sponsr behind this organization, Defense Minister Monaghan Baharov turned the issues these youth had since young into words. While studying at the National Defense College, Gilligan took part in in an essay compet.i.tion, was selected, got involved with the “Wind’s a.s.sembly”, and his meeting with Monaghan became everything in his life.

Monaghan would act as a puppet politician for the Federation, but secretly described the new world order of his ideals, and told Gilligan that the “Wind’s a.s.sembly” was to be the forefront. That amazingly extraordinary thinking made Gilligan want to start up for him. While the “Sleeves” led by the Second Coming of Char continued to act as Zeon’s ghost, Monaghan and his men would continue to hide in the Republic’s army until that day arrived. This thinking brought meaning to his training and endurance that was never repaid; he got some self-respect he could take solace in, and started studying inside the departments seriously.

Those who sacrifice their time as ordinary youths are to train themselves to be soldiers, ready to defend the country, so that they can get the mission to correct the country. Gilligan repeated Monaghan’s words in his heart again, affirmed that this moment had come, and let his feet move from the bridge and turn to the mobile suit deck. The Musai Kai-cla.s.s cruiser had an appearance of an old flatiron, and the mobile suit deck was located right at the bottom of the bridge, at the back of the ship that was the handle. The deck s.p.a.ce was a narrow and long cylinder, they could only put the machines on the ceiling and the floor. There were 4 units of RMS-106 “Hizack” that belonged to the Gulltoppr fleet, and two of them were facing each other.

The “HiZack” was developed from the “Zaku” of the old Princ.i.p.ality, the ancestor of all mobile suits, and it was developed as a second generation machine, widely known for being adopted for use by the Federation after the War. At this point, it was considered an old mobile suit of the same line as the “Zaku”, and was even sold as toy machines to civilians, but the Republic continued to use this as its main force. The Federation, which upgraded its equipment, left a large remainder to the Republic; they were in a state where they were still fresh from the factories, and it was a hint that they had to repaint these mobile suits with Zeon colors again.

In the end, the mobile suits lying on the deck were white “Hizacks” that were not practical for actual combat, but the monoeyed heads were still a symbolism of Zeonism, showing a ferocity the GM-types never had. It was never overly stated, but the reason why the Federation kept sc.r.a.pping the production of the monoeyed type and even swapped out some for the goggle-type was because they wanted to break away from the Zeon designs. Gilligan thought as he lifted his head to look at his customer “Hizack”. “What’s the matter, leader?” he heard this voice, looked behind, and saw the pilots and mechanics of the Gultoppr moving through the zero gravity deck as they gathered at him.

“What’s the content of the received code?” “Are we going to sortie?” The subordinates asking this were showing flushed faces. Gilligan looked around at all these people who too endured the subjugation and were about to be the basis for the new Zeon Princ.i.p.ality, and answered them with a smile. A whistle rang, and someone yelled, “d.a.m.n, WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS!” a celebratory atmosphere soon devoured everyone, and Gilligan raised his hand to stop everyone,

“Our ship will track down and observe the “Mock Wooden Horse”. We just need to hang on until the main forces of the “Sleeves” arrive, but the mobile suit squadron can launch in this situation. Don’t neglect your preparations; our “Wind’s a.s.sembly” is a.s.signed to this offsh.o.r.e mission for this purpose. There’re still 4 years till the time we have to return our autonomy, and we have to become a wind to strengthen the fervor of the people, to save the forgotten Zeon zeal and our country that’s on the brink of collapse.”

Gilligan’s body floated in zero gravity, and everyone inadvertently bought their heels together. However, the tense looks on the subordinates’ faces showed that they understood their roles as the vanguards. He looked around at everyone again, and said and smiled, “If we want to ride the wind and fly, we need wings.” He took out a mantle that was folded neatly from inside his clutches, and opened it in front of the surprised group.

The black cloth had a golden rank sewn on it, mimicking the appearance of a wing. This was the mantle used by the cadres of the old Princ.i.p.ality. The crowd let out oohs as they widened their eyes, “It’s the 3rd battle outfit!” “The real thing?” voices rang, and Gilligan answered, “There’s one for everyone.” He put on the Lieutenant’s mantle and hung the wing-shaped crest in front of his chest. “In the future, all officers are to wear the mantle, and the soldiers are to change into the prepared 3rd uniform. This is the will of the chairman.”

The mechanic answered to the keyword as he moved the cardboard box of mantles here. This was something the leader of the “Wind’s a.s.sembly” prepared ‘just in case’. Gilligan looked on at the cheering subordinates who came fighting for the clothing like bait, and showed a wry smile as he looked at his machine pleased at the ceiling. The RMS-106CS “Hizack Custom” legs were larger, giving it a more stable impression than an ordinary “Hizack”. From this place, he could see the blade antenna of a commander at the top, and could see himself being reflected off the visor protecting the monoeye.

He looked up at the direct descendent of the “Zaku” series as he put on the mantle that reached his waist. If possible, he hoped to have a Princ.i.p.ality’s peaked cap, but he could not ask for too much. This was the real him, the pride he finally could get after living for 28 years—the intoxication of arrogance numbed his body as he clenched the fist placed on his chest.

The gate to the deck was opened, and the sounds of the reports and alarms that rang through the machine vanished as the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the generator. Angelo let his body submerge in the silence of s.p.a.ce as his fingers rest on the ball grip, and lifted his stare to look at the pitch darkness on the other side of the gate. (Path is clear. Frontal squadron, please launch.) The report from the bridge rang.

(Captain, there’s a response from Tenisun’s fleet hiding in Side 6. They can catch up to the “Mock Wooden Horse” in one or two days. There’s no need to make a move first, is there?)

After the operator’s voice rang, Ship captain Hill’s voice echoed in the helmet. It had been 30 minutes since they received the information from the Republic earlier than expected, and decided to send the mobile suit squad for attack. Ship captain Hill had been advising against this operation all this time, and even at this point, but in fact, he was worried that there might be some mishap that may happen to Frontal. It’s cute that you’re worried to this extent. Angelo noted wryly. (Something might happen during this 1, 2 days.) Frontal said with a wry tone.

(The fleet commander of Londo Bell, Bright is supporting the “Mock Wooden Horse”. If he’s the one giving the commands, he probably has a plan to secure the “Box”. In this phase, a day’s difference is a lot.)

(Is that so…)

(This might be a showdown. I’ll end things before the “Rewloola” reaches.)

Frontal cut off the communication line on his side, and the “Sinanju” lined its feet on the catapult. The red machine with a beam rifle, shield and bazooka on its waist leaned forward. (Full Frontal, “Sinanju”, launching.) The nonchalant voice rang, and the tremor of the catapult being activated shook the deck; the machine with the wing-like thruster unit shot out of the hatch, and the “Sinanju” disappeared from the mobile suit deck. Angelo stepped on the pedal, and let the “Rozen Zulu” move forward without waiting for the catapult to return back to its original position.

The feet of the “Rozen Zulu” had the unique shape of high heeled shoes, and it could not fit onto the catapult either way. Angelo let the machine lean towards the gate nearby, and glanced at the deck crew waving the conducting bar, before looking at the wide s.p.a.ce in front of the deck. This might be a showdown—he repeated Frontal’s words in his heart, and exerted strength into his stomach.

“Angelo Sauper, “Rozen Zulu”, launching!”

The thrusters installed on the shoulders and waist armor let out flares, and the purple machine, which was designed based on a rose, was surrounded by light. The catapult deck that reached the bow of the ship immediately slid by from below, and the “Rozen Zulu” danced in the void. With the red “Rewloola” behind, he pursued the “Sinanju” that was moving far in front. The latter did not activate the main thrusters on its back, but used two, three restrained burst to negate the inertia, and fluidly approached the 4 shackles on standby.

The shackles were a SFS similar to the “Clogs” used by the Federation, and it was used for mobile suits long distance travel. Right now, it had two large booster rockets, and the tips of the 50m long rods were attached to the oval machines. Angelo interrupted his momentum and let the “Rozen Zulu” land on the second unit. Once the machine knelt down and landed on the platform, the hook-shaped finger grips latched on. At this moment, two “Geara Zulus” of the escort squad launched from the “Rewloola”, and landed on the 3rd and 4th shackle units.

The newly sortied Second Lieutenant Rakker and Ensign Reiru were here to replace Sergi and Cuarón who died in battle. They had exceptional skills as pilot, but could their “Geara Zulu” catch up to the capabilities of this “Rozen Zulu”. As Angelo thought about this, (Angelo), Frontal’s voice suddenly rang, and Angelo hurriedly looked at the first shackle.

(What I told Ship captain Hill was true. We’ll settle everything regarding the “Laplace Box” this time.)

“Right…!”

(The pilot of the “Unicorn Gundam” is gradually awakening into a powerful Newtype. When there’s a battle, I’ll have to rely on your “Rozen Zulu”. Be prepared.)

These unexpected words caused him to be short of breath. In the past, Frontal had never said anything about being prepared. He always fought for himself, and this Captain, who never required any a.s.sistance, was actually asking Angelo for help. He fully showed the fear in him, his true feelings to Angelo.

Banagher Links has become a really powerful opponent. Angelo felt a chill pa.s.s through, but a more intense emotion rose from deep within him. “Yes!” he answered and sat upright in the c.o.c.kpit. Just when he was feeling anxious about being unable to be more affectionate, (All units, correct your course. 10 seconds till the boosters light up.) the voice of the Shackle pilot rang, 9, 8, 7…the countdown through the wireless. After seeing the “Sinanju” ride on Shackle unit 1 as it flapped the wings on back, Angelo closed his eyes and let the body ride on the momentum of the boosters.

The spotless, pure white fabric appeared in his eyes. The white blanket appeared deep within his memories. Angelo was once stained by blood, dung and urine, but this blanket was purified by Frontal’s ‘power’. He pursued Frontal, believed in him, and viewed the latter as part of him for 3 years, which negated the corruption that had stained him for the past 10 years or so. He did not have any regrets left, and he was already mentally prepared. The grace of being saved could only be repaid by saving him back.

“If it’s for you, wherever you go—”

The flash and the buzzing of the boosters erased the following words. The 4 Shackles fired forward like bullets as they drag long and thick trails of light. Angelo endured the G-Force rattling on him, and looked at the s.p.a.ce through his narrowed eyes. The Shackle ferrying the “Sinanju” let out a tremendous light on rockets, ostensibly devouring the surrounding stars.

The central core module had thickness, but the panels of the solar generator expanded around it were just a thin layer, and when viewed from afar, it looked like a sheet of gla.s.s giving off white light. The panel was made of numerous triangular and rhombuses, creating a tessellation that was almost the shape of a hexagon; there were 6 warning lights flashing, reaching out from all corners. The “L1 junction” felt like…or rather, it was designed in the form of a snowflake; its shape was no longer that of a lighthouse, but something similar to an art piece. Including the pillars of the warning lights, the maximum diameter was 2km, and it could be said to be the most expansive art piece humanity used its public expenses for.

There were 5 Lagrange Points formed between the Earth and the Moon, and each Lagrange Point had such a landmark set. This could be said to be the first stronghold of humanity in s.p.a.ce beside the first s.p.a.ce station sent into Earth’s...o...b..t. Before the Universal Century began, humanity used these light towers to ascertain their positions, and crossed through this wide and endless s.p.a.ce. In s.p.a.ce, where every item would float away, and even the colonies relative positions continued to change, it was an artificial item that had an absolute position compared to the Earth and the Moon. The light and electrowaves released from it were the materials that allowed people to proceed with their work without worry—until the discovery of Minovsky Particles that thoroughly overturned the reliability of electricity.

Because of the advancement in s.p.a.ce navigation technology, there were no ships that would use light towers as landmarks. Its existence had long been wasted; the light tower at L5 was wrecked in the war, and it was said that it was never rebuilt. The ‘L1 Junction’ flickering in front of their eyes had only an occasional patrol from the s.p.a.ce colony a.s.sociation, and the people situated there had long evacuated. They set up an empty temporary pier to allow any ships that were involved in accidents to dock, but they probably could not use it in this situation. It let out a beautiful glow, but one could see that the ‘L1 Junction’ shown on the expanded main screen was completely desolate. “Another junk…” Liam muttered with a sigh as she witnessed the same thing.

“Is this Cardeas Vist’s interest? Whether it’s the relic of “Laplace” or here.”

“Places with hidden treasures are typically the ones most likely to be forgotten.”

In stories. Otto added in his heart as he gave a wry smile. Liam glanced at him, and argued back wordlessly that it was reality. He understood, but it could not be helped. The current reality was that the coordinates indicated by the Laplace Program was directed at this ‘L1 Junction’. Otto again looked at the s.p.a.ce tower that was almost 5,000km away. Even though its parts showed signs of erosion after many years of being placed here, but the construct that symbolized a snowflake did not change its impression as a huge art piece. This impression made it look like it was very suitable for hiding treasure, but was also mystifying to a point where it could not be described.

The remnant of the Prime Minister’s Residence “Laplace”, the capital Dakar, and now the 3rd location; were things going to end after 3 times, or—Otto ceased all useless tho