The confetti continued to dance in the air like snow. The fragments that covered the sky were scattered over, mixing together with the cheers of the people, forming a vortex. This vortex rose up due to the wind currents of the artificial airflow, and the multi-colored powder of light swayed as it rose up the colony’s sky.

Right, left, right, left. Suberoa Zinnerman recited as he marched at the same pace as his breathing, darting his eyes as he tried to look at the crowd that was moving by. There were young children holding military flags and old people with their backs arched, looking like soldiers who returned to their hometown. A woman poked her head out from amidst the human wall, waving a handkerchief, and she was probably looking for her lover amongst the squad that came back. Zinnerman immediately looked around to check that there were no stupid soldiers who would wave back at the woman.

There were no radicals that could be seen messing up the formations’ proceedings. All the soldiers wore metal helmets that covered their ears and necks and their secondary combat uniform. They were equipped with rifles that worked under gravity, slung on their shoulders, and they turned their tense expressions before. Right, left, right left. Zinnerman saw that they did not mess up in their marching, and secretly felt relieved that the special training was taking effect. The newly gathered recruits formed more than half their ranks, and old experienced officers like Zinnerman had always been guiding the actions of these rookies, training them until they could attend a parade, whether it was in the past, or at this point. He finally managed to train them to a decent level, including the newly-appointed squad leaders who had brand new officer-use mantles on them. Feeling satisfied, Zinnerman looked over at the other end where the formation was, the large building located at the end of the avenue.

The Chancellor Government Building, which thoroughly displayed the splendor of capital of the Princ.i.p.ality of Zeon “Zum City”, was a large building that had 3 sharp towers on the tip of the chalice-like structure, built in a complicated planar structure, and it looked like an angry man’s face when seen from the front. To think that I would be marveling at this Zeonism cultural promotion at its finest, the government office where Chancellor Degwin Zabi lives in. Zinnerman never thought that this day would calm, and as he secretly tried to suppress the agitation as he was about to laugh out, he continued to divert his eyes onto both sides of the avenue. The confetti continued to fall like snow, and the brick houses that were built in the style of European streets were lined side by side with each other, and the banners that were dropped down from the windows had large handwritten words on them. There were words like “Beat the Earth Federation Government!” “Let the Princ.i.p.ality of Zeon gain real independence!”. There was a satirical image of a Federation soldier hanging onto Earth on a banner with the words “Save our national patriots!”, and on it, there was an ill.u.s.tration of a mobile suit that looked like a “Zack” point its machine gun at them.

Save our national patriots, huh? That doesn’t sound bad. Zinnerman thought. It had been more than 20 years since he, a gruff person of no education and charisma, joined the Princ.i.p.ality of Zeon Defense force. For a man like him, who would have ended up as a mob member if he did not do this, those overbearing words would be tough to live up to. This place was changed into a Princ.i.p.ality after Zeon Deikun died, and as drastic things happened, including the growth of the national army, they had to withstand the financial sanctions from the Federation government. Even though the hopes of colony self-government they betted on were trampled on, even though they endured oppression after oppression, even though the days of hibernation would continue—this day would be a glorious day for these people who were already prepared to live their lives like this.

It was January 3rd, Universal Century 0079. The fuse signaling Zeon’s war for independence was lit when Operation British started at a lightning-quick speed. The Sides that were allied with the Federation were crushed, and Earth took a severe hit due to the colony drops. It will be our turn next; the mission entrusted to us will be to bear the fate of the Princ.i.p.ality and fight into enemy ranks. What other stage allows old-timers like us to perform when we offer no advantage besides our determination?

“It has been a month since the war started. With every soldier’s rigorous pro-activeness, our Zeon Princ.i.p.ality had finally suppressed the Earth Federation government as we hoped. But we still have to win this tough battle if we want the Federation to succ.u.mb, and for us to fulfill the ideals of our founding father Zeon Deikun.”

Supreme Commander Gihren Zabi said as he faced the thousands of soldiers located at the plaza in front of the Government Building. Zinnerman could not even see the live broadcast on the large television screens, let alone see him talk on the stage. He p.r.i.c.ked his ears to listen to the loud baritone, stared at the wall of spectators waving their right hands, and looked for the pet.i.te figure of his wife, who should be here to send him off.

With the help of the squadron leader, a close friend, all officers’ families would have special treatment, so there was no reason for her to be behind the human wall. His wife, Fee, who had been supporting him for many years through, and his lone daughter, Marie, who he finally got the chance to meet after a long time, were supposed to be there. Where are they—?

“There was a saying that this one month war caused half the human population to die off. Because of this, many theories have slandered us, the Princ.i.p.ality of Zeon, as ma.s.s murderers that humanity had never seen before. But is that really true? About 100 years ago, humanity, which had worn out Earth to its limits, found a new lease of lease by sending the overflowing populace into s.p.a.ce. This itself is a good thing, and it is worth mentioning as an accomplishment for human civilization. But in the long history natural ecosystem, only humanity continued to grow in size. Is this not a blasphemy against naturalism? Humanity followed its own desires without reflecting, and the results of pushing our living sphere into s.p.a.ce is that we created a group of privileged people that controls Earth. They created an inapt government that created the laws that would protect the Federation, and believed that they could control s.p.a.ce from Earth. They even carried out used the term ‘absolute democracy’ to cover the fact that they’re a bureaucracy, and even used the resources obtained from s.p.a.ce to develop Earth. This act itself is foolishness even as compared to a reversal of priorities!

Now is the time for humanity to look at itself again. As part of the natural ecosystem, we should remain humble to nature, to Earth. If we consider this viewpoint, can’t we view 5 billion people’s deaths as atonement that humanity should do to nature? If that’s the case, the responsibility given to us is a huge one. With countless sacrifices as our basis, we have been given the responsibility to create a new management system that allows humanity to live on forever.”

Found them. Zinnerman saw the familiar faces from amidst the faces in the human wall that were the size of beans, and swallowed his voice that was about to come out from his throat. Fee, who was wearing a new coat she bought for this day, had put in effort to doll herself up as she smiled. Perhaps she noticed him here? Marie, who just pa.s.sed her fifth birthday, was held in her mother’s hands, and it seemed like she was waving a military flag at him. Those plump and soft arms…!

“To all officers and soldiers gathered here, you have the honor of leading the invasion on Earth. Basically everyone has no experience of standing on Earth, and we have never seen the light of Earth for ourselves. I suppose that everyone will not be at peace, as we’re about to enter an unknown world, enemy territory.

But I hope that you do not forget about the founding ambition of Zeon. Do not forget what Zeon Deikun said, that the humans who come to s.p.a.ce will revolutionized. This Side 3 on the back of the Moon is furthest from Earth, and amongst the people that were released into s.p.a.ce, we’re the lowest level of s.p.a.cenoids. But because of that, we can become an outstanding race that can manage the next generation of Earth. We’re the chosen people who can view humanity objectively through the depths of s.p.a.ce.”

The baritone increased in intensity, and the air that was concealed within “Zum City” rumbled. Is that the usual most outstanding humanity survival he’s good at again? No need to go about with those extra reasons, just tell us to win the battle for our country and for our families, right? Zinnerman grumbled somewhat unhappily in his heart as he continued to glance aside at his wife, and as expected, they noticed him. He could see that Marie was throwing a tantrum, wanting to get to her father. It’ll be great if I can go over there to carry her—

“Everyone, we are not invaders. We are descending on Earth to educate people and liberate them from the weak and corrupted hands of the Federation. As long as we, the superior ones, are the ones managing, humanity can approach a real utopia. Sieg Zeon!”

The cheers rained down at this moment, and several hundred thousand people’s pa.s.sionate cheers rocked the entire colony. Sieg Zeon, Sieg Zeon. Zinnerman, who got caught in the pa.s.sionate cheers as he raised his hands, suddenly felt uneasy as he felt concerned about his wife. He could not see the faces of Fee’s group as they were covered by the numerous fists. The crowd that was riled up emotionally by Gihren were only concerned about getting engrossed in his words, creating a riot that gradually swallowed his wife and daughter.

CALM DOWN, YOU PEOPLE! THERE’S A KID HERE! Zinnerman felt a chill from the rumbling and howling crowd as he only cared about looking for Fee and Marie’s faces. Confetti continued to fall like snow, and the shouts of ‘Sieg Zeon’ continued to rumble. Fee was pushed by the crowd that wanted to head to the front, and her unsteady body appeared at the edge before disappearing from amongst the coats of the crowd.

Zinnerman resisted the urge to break ranks and get to them as he reached his neck out to look for them. He could vaguely see Marie crying from amidst the human wall, and the military flag she was holding was dropped onto the avenue, trampled by some unknown person—

The noise of the emergency call easily broke through the membrane of his sleep. As his fingers automatically pressed on the panel b.u.t.ton, Zinnerman let out a hoa.r.s.e “What is it?” as he undid the fastener of his sleeping bag completely.

“We’ve caught sight of an allied unit’s identification signal. The guess is that it’s the guest you mentioned.”

“I’ll go over right away.”

Zinnerman did not look at Gilboa Sant on the monitor as he cut the ship’s communication. He rubbed his oily face, rose up from the sleeping bag and let his body float towards the door. He grabbed the leather jumper that was floating in the air and glanced at the mirror at the side of the door.

During these ten years, his hairline had receded back completely, and his face became loose and limp. The current image of this tired man in his fifties was of complete contrast with the old him as Zinnerman looked back at the back in doubt, wondering in his heart who in the world this person was.

The cheers of the people became a pipe dream, and a body that was like a remnant was looking at the mirror in this utterly cold captain’s room. Zinnerman heard the sounds of his dream dissipating, and estimated the time that pa.s.sed ever since that day. 17 years—well, I’m already so old, and yet this is enough time for someone to change what’s happening in the world, is it not? Zinnerman gave a bitter smile as he thought about how he could still live on to this time. This man’s country and family was broken, and he, who had nothing else to continue living for, may had viewed the revival of Zeon as a wish he was banking on, but he never believed anything deep within, and he never felt that he could get back anything like this. This man was glancing at the world where everything to him was erased, and was just living aimlessly.

No—even if it were a hundred years, there were some things that could not be erased. The faces of his wife and daughter Zinnerman saw in his dreams blew aside the bitter smile in his chest. Zinnerman heard of the end of the war in a detention barrack, and on that day, when he returned to his homeland that was called Princ.i.p.ality of Zeon, when he saw that his homeland became a ‘public toilet’ of hungry soldiers who offered themselves to the Federation, Zinnerman decided that he would continue fighting until he died. The end point called victory never existed, and he continued to fight in order not to lose his mind, in order to stuff the deep valley that was opened within his heart, the crack leading to an endless h.e.l.l—he knew that he was already crazy psychologically, and he knew that he could not fill that crack no matter what he did.

“Sieg Zeon, huh…”

The aftereffects of the dream caused the utterly cold air to waver slightly before fading away. To heck with your Sieg Zeon! Zinnerman stamped on the floor and left the captain room that was a dreary sight to him.

At this point, they were 150,000km away from the shoal s.p.a.ce region of L1, and the light of the Earth shining through the bridge window looked as large as a basketball. That mobile suit left the disposable booster board it used and slowly closed in on the “Garencieres”.

As its name suggested, the board-shaped booster board with laser rocket engines installed on both left and right sides was abandoned behind, and the giant with a flat head on the back. It was the RMS-119 “Eye-Zack”. The machine that had its own sleeve features lit the balance burners, negating the inertia from the booster board as it gradually matched the relative velocity of the “Garencieres”. The hatch at the back of the ship was opened, and the sliding-type cargo hangar was opened for about 30 seconds. The “Eye-Zack” drew a direct trajectory as it interacted with the hangar, and the extended restraints of the supporting frame held the machine.

Once the hangar took the machine in, air immediately flowed into the mechanical deck. Zinnerman waited for the alert light ‘Air’ to change from red to green before entering the mechanical deck. Due the long and narrow triangular shaped ship frame of the “Garencieres”, there was a long and narrow hollow on the front and back side of the mechanical hangar—or rather, above and below. There were 3 “Geara Zulus” docked with their backs facing each other at the tail end of the ship, the base of the triangular prism. Normally, there would be a “Kshatriya” occupying the upper level deck at the front of the ship, but at this point, there was no sight of the larger than average machine. The one replacing the “Kshatriya” at that place was the grey-colored “Eye-Zack” that did not seem to have any place to stand properly as it took up three mobile suits’ worth of s.p.a.ce.

“Is it the old-fashioned EWAC?”

“This is a machine of little significance that’s here just to make up the numbers after we evacuated from “Palau”. They probably won’t feel any pity even if it were sent here.”

Flaste Schole, who was accompanying, said with a tone of disagreement. Zinnerman pa.s.sed through the wide upper deck as he glanced aside at the “Eye-Zack” that had been used for a long time. The deck crew and the mechanics were already on it, and the normal suits with the logo mark Rivacona Cargo” on them were floating around the deck. They did prepare a set of book data for a cargo ship as disguise, like route certificates and cargo catalogs, but they could not guarantee that they could pa.s.s through the absolute defense line leading easily by sending data information to the patrol later. If a patrol ship met them on their way, the plan would be for this group of people to line up on the upper deck and give smiling faces at the mobile suits that would arrive on the ship for inspection.

Normally, they could sneak through about 8-9 times out of 10, but the recent commotion forced security measures to be tightened, and it would not be easy to slip by the Federation army with their tense eyes. Zinnerman landed on the deck on both feet, reached his hands at his neck and looked up at the giant body of the “Eye-Zack”. What exactly is the ‘guest’ that approached us at this time planning? Zinnerman was not given much time to think as the c.o.c.kpit cover located at the machine’s abdomen was opened. Looking from afar, he could see a tall figure in the pilot suit appearing from behind the hatch.

That person pushed aside the mechanic that was intending to approach him and descended towards Zinnerman. His face could not be seen as it was covered by the helmet visor, but he remembered that demeanor that showed no openings. The man did not look away from Zinnerman at all as he stopped on the deck 3m about away before reaching for his helmet.

“I’m Gael Chan. I’ll be in your care for a while.”

The bald man took off his helmet as he showed a fearless look. There was no mistake about it; he was the follower who accompanied Cardeas Vist when Zinnerman met them on “Industrial 7”, and also the watchdog of the Vist Foundation. Both of them, who once pointed guns at each other, exchanged looks, and at this point, Zinnerman could still identify blazing antagonistic intent from the other party. He cautiously asked back, “I suppose I won’t have to introduce myself, do I?”

“Why would a confidante of the Vist Foundation like you be at such a place?’

The “Rewloola” only notified them about the guest’s name and history, but did not tell them about why Gael visited them. Gael’s sharp stare glanced at Flaste, who put his hand on the pistol on his waist, and then turned right back at Zinnerman “This has nothing to do with the Foundation” and said with an emotionless expression.

“On a side note, there is nothing about my arrival here that is related to anyone here. There is a debt I have to deal with some people on the “Nahel Argama”. If I want to approach that place, I will have to borrow the power of the “Sleeves”.”

The eyes that showed no signs of wavering looked like there were black burns on the white eyeb.a.l.l.s. This guy is the same as me—he’s unable to release his emotions and lost all other choices in life. Zinnerman felt his hardened chest shuddering as he asked, “So you’re trying to take revenge for your master?”, and Gael’s eyes remained unmoved as he answered with silence.

“So you’ll even use your enemies to achieve your goals…it’s not a trendy thing to do this nowadays.”

“Whatever you say. To me, Cardeas Vist isn’t just someone I’m indebted to, its because he’s my master. if that were the case, who would want to ride on this mobile suit that’s filled with the stench of Zeon?”

Gael’s words probably were not just directed at the “Eye-Zack” that was similar to the Princ.i.p.ality’s “Zack” exterior. To this man who survived the One Year War as a Federation soldier, people like us may be descendants of the demon that forced half the human race to die to him. Zinnerman used his hand to suppress the rising killing intent, and Flaste, who wanted to step forward unceremoniously, “You’re not going to build friendships with us? Fine by us.” relaxed his lips as he said.

“But since you’re on this ship, you’ll have to listen to me. Everything that happened in “Industrial 7” will not be mentioned until both of us achieve our aims. Is that fine with you?”

“I understand that it was an accident.” Gael continued without breaking his stiff expression, “I’m intending to settle this debt with someone else, and besides, I haven’t snapped your necks here, so please trust me.”

As this person stood while not caring about the antagonistic intent around him, there was bleak and gloom on the back of this person who had no place to return to. He might be a G.o.d of death that may bring disaster to this ship—but that’s fine. If we’re going to raise trouble against the largest army in history, why don’t we call in a death G.o.d too? Zinnerman lowered his face that was letting out a chortle, and ordered a deck crew member nearby, “Bring him to the room. I’ll listen to any words he wants to say later.”

Gael let the crew member accompany him as he stepped on the floor and left the scene gradually. “What’s with that b.a.s.t.a.r.d…” Flaste would not turn his heinous stare away from the back of the other party as he said this, but Zinnerman said, “Don’t mind.”

“Since he introduced himself to be from Anaheim, even Frontal can’t just leave him alone. Besides, that man will be useful at a certain moment, since he’s someone who understands the workings within Anaheim.”

The Federation army intruded at the venue of the dealing, and Cardeas Vist died amidst the chaos. Now that they recalled it, it was not hard to imagine that it was a family dispute that happened over the “Laplace Box”. There was definitely something going on between Cardeas, who wanted to break the deadlock in the world through the opening of the “Box”, and someone else, who used his a.s.sa.s.sination to protect the Vist Foundation and gain the benefits—Zinnerman turned his back on Flaste, who finally understood as he frowned, and looked back at the “Eye-Zack” that was standing there.

“That machine is way too pitiful to be left here as a replacement for the “Kshatriya”. We have to bring the “Kshatriya” and the princess back together soon…”

Our aim isn’t just this after all. Zinnerman did not exchange looks with Flaste, who nodded his head silently, and nudged his stiff beard on his jaw. He suddenly felt an emotion that made it hard for him to breathe and stepped on the floor.

He rejected all human things he could get in order not to lose, but this body of his was trembling because he realized how important the people he lost were. The empty container deck overlapped the hole in his heart, and he could not move due to an overwhelming chill. I’m a lost cause here, Zinnerman mocked himself in his heart as he left the deck that did not have Marida’s machine.

The light that rose up from beside the feet was so bright that even the anti-glare filter could not negate it completely. The pink incandescence light continued to swirl in a vortex, and a halation appeared on the all-view monitor as the plasma surrounding the machine continued to let out terrifying cracking sounds.

The speed of descent was more devastating than expected. The worry that the machine would burn up at any moment and the fear of being devoured by the heat wave struck her. Mineva Lao Zabi continued to be rattled by the shockwaves striking the c.o.c.kpit as she stared at the monitor that was heating up as her tense body continued to be pressed down on the a.s.sistance seat. The incandescence light was formed by the thin air that was converted into plasma, and not the burning of the machine itself; however, the surface temperature was already past 1,500 degrees Celsius and rising. The frictional heat from the atmosphere and the aerodynamic heating caused by adiabatic compression caused the “Delta Plus” to be burned by the unavoidable heat as it descended into the atmosphere. As the name Waverider implied, the aerial fighting machine that was burned red as it rode on the plasma wave was gradually gliding down this large and thick atmosphere.

It was approximately 2 hours ago from the moment the machine broke through the absolute defense line and got detected by the patrolling Federation warships. The “Delta Plus”, which was deemed to be a ‘ghost’ that died off in battle, appeared, stopped, went through endless questioning that was repeated, and ended up choosing to shake off the pursuers and move forward. The machine made use the rebounding effect of the atmosphere to enter low orbit as it entered the atmosphere through the polar track covering the axis of the north and south poles. It was unknown whether the ‘family’ Riddhe mentioned about used its power as the intercepting satellites did not take action, but it did not matter to the “Delta Plus” that entered the atmosphere from the south pole.

One would know that this layer that surrounded the blue planet like soap bubbles was a scorching hot endless wilderness the moment they ended. Once they rushed into the atmosphere, they could only leave the machine’s controls to the electronic navigation system and wait for the moment they leave the burning h.e.l.l. The “Delta Plus” frame that was pulled by gravity was heating up as it broke through the atmospheric wall at a speed of Mach 20. If one believed in the inertial navigation device capabilities to calculate the current location through speed, time and machine movement, the current height at this point would be 70km. it had been more than 10 minutes since they entered the atmosphere. They were entering safely at a more gradual angle to reduce the resistance, but did this really take that much time? The incandescence light became red hot light without warning, and the machine that went from the thermosphere into the mesosphere started to be covered by heat as Mineva glanced at the face of the man sitting on the linear seat beside her.

Riddhe Marcenas, who was holding onto the control stick tightly, had his tense face covered by red hot light here. It was probably the first time that he entered the atmosphere in a unit alone without hoping for any data link from the mothership or ground control. Mineva recalled how she used to observe the burning atmosphere from the small window when she rode on a shuttle into the atmosphere in the past. She would also imagine herself riding on the shuttle as she glided through the atmosphere through the visuals obtained from the observation satellites that could still receive visual feed as she descended. Leaving a white scratch in the transparent atmosphere and creating a shockwave trajectory that’s 1/3 the circ.u.mference of the planet—that was really beautiful. Mineva felt that she, who was born in s.p.a.ce and could logically view planets and colonies equally, was instantly absorbed by the established Nature at that moment. I wonder if this “Delta Plus” is carving out a similar trajectory? She turned her neck that was originally frozen in fear and looked at the roof through the normal suit visor.

The machine that was protected by anti-heat functions was feeling the frictional heat from below, and the rear top side of the all-view monitor was not covered by the red hot light. The thin atmosphere that looked distorted by the shockwaves went from pitch black into thick indigo, and after that, the vacuum that turned navy blue swayed as the sharp starry light continued to flicker as they faded fast.

s.p.a.ce became sky—The moment Mineva inadvertently said that, the red hot light at her feet decreased drastically, and what replaced it was a strong light that shone in from the right side on her.

Riddhe pulled the control stick, and the activation sounds of the rear wings was mixed together with the tremors. The main wings endured the thick atmosphere, and the G-force that struck back leaped on the machine that decelerated out of a sudden. The “Delta Plus” moved through the stratosphere as it switched into manual mode. Mineva felt the force pushing her forward hard, but she continued to look at the source of the light that was shining into the c.o.c.kpit.

The light of the sun was there. It was not an extremely hot celestial body that was seen in s.p.a.ce, but a friendly light that was apt for a day. It’s the bright warm light that pa.s.ses through the atmosphere and graces all living things below it…!

The overly bright light caused Mineva to reach her hand out to block it as she turned her stare to the front. As the blue sky showed absolutely no traces of clouds, the white patterns of the altostratus clouds could be seen floating at her feet. The sea should be further below at where the plains of light below the intertwining clouds floating around were. Our estimated course is that we’ll be above the Caribbean Sea, so is this the place? Mineva inadvertently opened her helmet visor and stared at the sea that was dazzling as it reflected sunlight.

She could not see the waves rising and falling from the stratospheric height they were at, and the sea was like a transparent blue gla.s.s panel that covered the surface of the planet. The long and wide arc that marked the horizon was lying further down, and the two layers, the sky and seas showed the contours of the Earth. What a color, what a magnificent expanse! Mineva could not tell what sort of situation she was in as she faced the world that expanded in front of her on the all-view monitor. She felt the blood in her body moving to her b.u.t.tocks, but she did not feel uneasy about it. She knew that her body cells were being active, reclaiming the sense of balance humans originally had. She understood and recognized real gravity, and her body was radiating heat because she was shuddering in delight rising from deep within.

The place where all life was born, and the place where all life returns to; this is—

“Welcome to Earth.”

Riddhe said as he smiled slightly, the same scenery was being reflected off his brown eyes. The voice that was not heard for a long time was half negated by the roaring of the fusion core jet rocket engines, and the rumbling air flow covered the c.o.c.kpit. Everything and anything was rich, noisy, and unlike s.p.a.ce, where time stood still, everything here was bustling. Light, wind, sounds, everything was changing at the moment. She could not hear her own breathing as she got engrossed in the breath of the Earth, and stared at the horizon that was on the other end.

The Shock Cone surrounding the machine expanded gradually as it merged itself within the blue sky. The “Delta Plus” that had decelerated to Mach 2 slowed down further and let the worn out scorching hot machine descend to the troposphere. The North American continent did not care too much about the invaders that came barging in from s.p.a.ce as it expanded in front of their eyes, basked in the gentle light of morning.

The phone rang. The crisp and clear bell sound of the antique phone echoed off the tall living room ceiling, caused the decorations on the chandelier to tremble slightly, and landed on the Alanveil-styled hard wood floor.

A pair of thoroughly polished leather shoes walked past that floor silently. Douglas Dwiyon remained unhurried, elegant but quick as he crossed the living room in a gliding-like manner, just as how he instructed the servants strictly usually, as he went right at the corridor where the telephone table was. He used his fingertips to wipe away the dust lying on the Bergère chair, glanced aside at the Monet scenery painting, and walked towards the corridor. This butler clad in black clothes basked under the morning sunlight that shone in through the gla.s.s panel of the terrace as he crossed the middle-aged styled solemn-looking furniture. Dwiyon himself could be seen as one of the antiques too, and in fact, his overemphasis att.i.tude and his old age had earned him the nickname of an Antique amongst the maids and the cooks, but he himself was not overly concerned by it.

Every family member had a phone in this room, but Dwiyon would be in charge of picking up this call that was made with the help of a namecard. No matter who that person was, he must not be complacent as he would be giving the first impression of this family. Dwiyon tidied his bow tie with his hands and cleared his voice, “Yes?” and let out let out an attentive yet sophisticated-sounding voice that was hard to catch up with into the phone.

The old butler had been serving this household for more than 30 years, and he had already mixed in the flair of the family into his voice, but it was still not that overwhelming to the other party. The sound that came from the phone was a commotion that was of a completely different dimension from this famed family that was based in Southern USA.

(h.e.l.lo, this is the Cheyenne Anti-air Command branch of the Federation Air Force. I’m the Duty Officer, Lieutenant Colonel d.i.c.kson Meyer, and based on emergency protocols, I’m contacting with regards to relevant issues. May I know if Chairman Ronan Marcenas is here?”

The wall clock indicated 9am at this moment. DONG. DONG, and the bell chimed at this moment, resonating together with the voice on the phone. Dwiyon’s hand that was taking notes shuddered.

The polished leather shoes let out hurried footstep sounds as they rushed up the stairs. Dwiyon did not finish his timekeeping as he arrived at the roundabout at the middle of the stairs, leaving behind the maids who were shocked as they moved aside, climbed up the second level, and carried his forward momentum into the office within.

Dwiyon did not have time to even breath at the door like usual as he knocked on the wooden door. “Excuse me!” he did not wait for the reply as he opened the door. The office was linked to the study, and inside this office, the first secretary, who was facing the master of the household turned around with a doubtful look on his face.

“What is it, Dwiyon? Why are you panicking?”

The first secretary was the son-in-law of the master in this household. Normally, Dwiyon would not forget to greet him, but this was not the time to do this. he took out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his sweat, and spoke,

“Sir, the military gave us an emergency call saying that young master Riddhe…”

Dwiyon could not explain this earth-shattering situation with only a single line. The first secretary widened his mouth and blinked as he face this old butler, who swallowed the words he was about to continue with as his shoulders went up and down together with his panting. With his back facing the window, the owner of this house was sitting at the office table, his hands on the table tensing up as he looked back at Dwiyon’s face.

“What is it about Riddhe?”

Ronan Marcenas merely said this. The tea-colored eyes bore backlight as his face naturally overlapped with the master’s son who had not returned home for many years—Riddhe Marcenas. This time, Dwiyon really could not say anything.

“A new mission…?”

After all that? Alberto swallowed the voice that was about rise out from his throat as he gave a doubtful look back at the monitor in front of him again. Martha Vist Carbine’s eyes suddenly narrowed (Any questions?) as her icy cold voice echoed through the second communication room of the “Nahel Argama”.

“No, it’s not that there’re any problems…but the “Nahel Argama” is rather worn out after some battles. I’m wondering if we can get some other squads here as well—”

(I just want them to investigate the s.p.a.ce region coordinates indicated by the Laplace Program’s information. You will be heading through that place when you return to “Luna II” anyway, so there would not be much additional work for you, am I right?)

Martha said nonchalantly as she used her long fingers to pick up the fluff on her shoulders. Alberto looked like he was rendered silent by that finger as he went silent.

(We owe the Senate Council a favor for what happened at “Palau”. The “Unicorn” can’t be delivered to the Moon in that case, so we should at least let them help out in some ways. And according to the feedback from the technicians here, it seems that it’s very difficult to remove the pilot’s biological identification register.)

The “Unicorn” was reclaimed after maintenance, and they found data from the machine that seemed to indicate the coordinates of the “Box”. It was just yesterday that Martha heard of how things developed in this communication room. Because of this, Martha’s plan was to make use of the “Unicorn” when it was still useful, let the military investigate the coordinated s.p.a.ce and keep all findings to themselves, so she most probably left some avenues out there. Of course, if she could find the “Box” there, she would have most likely planned a way for the Foundation to strike first.

In terms of political sense, this thinking was definitely valid since the Vist Foundation could not keep the “Unicorn Gundam” itself. The indicated coordinates was definitely on the return path to “Luna II”, and when considering the uniqueness of the location, there was very little chance of Neo Zeon attacking them. This definitely was a mission the “Nahel Argama” could still do as it struggled to survive, but the premise was that this plan was to be viewed this way by outsiders. As someone directly involved in this, Alberto could not agree with this, and his stare landed on the floor of the dim communication room.

After nearly dying a few times, the crew was finally on the path back to the docks, so how much would they be looking forward to landing? The tough battle of “Palau” ended 2 days ago, and Alberto and the crew pa.s.sed through moments of pain and exhilaration. It would be really cruel to push the mission to them and delay their arrival back at the docks…

(You look like you went through life and death with them and developed emotions with them.)

He looked away for several seconds, and Martha read his thoughts as she spoke up. Alberto felt his heart being grabbed as he looked at the face on the monitor.

(This isn’t like you at all. You’re probably tired. When you arrive back on Earth, rest well for a while.)

“Me, to Earth…?”

To Alberto, who was mentally prepared that he would be observed to investigate the situation, these were unexpected words. Martha curled her lips that were covered with lipstick to the side slightly and continued, “I got a launcher shuttle from the Foundation.)

(I want you to take that Cyber-Newtype to Augusta on North America.)

“Augusta? Don’t tell me—”

(Right, it’s that Augusta. The Newtype research facilities are already sealed off, but I heard that the facilities for readjustments are still there.)

Alberto felt a chill up his spine. The Augusta Research Inst.i.tute was one of the largest Newtype research facilities together with the Murasame Research Lab. However, this Newtype Research was only in name, as they once worked together with the military to develop human weapons. He would be bringing the female pilot of the “Sleeves” to the human research plant which would dissect war orphans—

“What are you planning to do?”

(If the commotion continues like this, our options of dealing with the media will be extremely limited. The Senate Council seems like it wants to keep its distance from the Foundaiton, so we have to hurry up and rea.s.semble the UC plan Cardeas wrecked to appease the army. We’ll also use this chance to calm those guys trying to get the “Box”, so we definitely must make good of this.)

“Complete the UC project…the second unit?”

Alberto could not make any other guesses. There was another RX-0 being moved to Earth, being experimented on under gravity conditions. They had to hurry up, complete it, and use this to show the military superiority of the Vist Foundation and Anaheim Electronics. The fact was that there was a collusion between the UC plan contractors and the inner government council trying to take back the “Box”, so the proceeding of the plan would allow them to hold this collusion off. If they could control the situation well, they could probably return the “Box” back to its original owner.

(This UC plan views the rea.s.sembly of the s.p.a.ce forces as a cover up to eradicate Zeon completely…it sounds like a fantasy the conservatives’ brains would think of at a moment of inspiration, but there is a high chance that it might be affected greatly due to the dissolvement of the Princ.i.p.ality of Zeon. The Foundation and Anaheim must have the “Box” in order to weather this storm, and I can’t stand someone opening the “Box” due to a man’s romance like what Cardeas did.)

It was rare to see Martha show her emotions when she talked as she put her hand on her wavy hair. She obviously looked anxious, and Alberto cringed as he looked away from the monitor, but Martha was right to say this, and he said this to convince himself. Cardeas is the culprit behind everything who plotted with the overload and reached his hand on a 100 year taboo. He left his real successor aside and left the “Box”s key to the kid he had from his mistress. There’s no reason that this kind of person is to bear the Foundation’s future, so I—

(I wouldn’t have to use this move if grandfather could simply tell me where the “Box” is. Well, we can be considered lucky to get a Cyber-Newtype. Make sure all preparations are done when transporting her.)

At that moment, Martha erased all her emotions as she put on the usual iron-mask face. Alberto could not digest anything as he looked up and answered, “Yes.”

“But I don’t know if the Captain and the rest will believe me or not…”

(Most of those were killed in action by that Cyber-Newtype’s mobile suit, right? Just say that you considered the crew’s feelings and that there are unspeakable things. Besides, the Senate Council will be sending them a message to.)

It’s not that kind of problem, but that some people who can only carry out top down orders can’t take back the “Unicorn”. The feelings Alberto once hid showed themselves on the face again, and he turned his eyes towards the monitor again. (I’ll meet up with you too.) Martha remained unmoved as her lips formed a smile.

“You’re coming too…?”

(The Moon’s gravity is good for beauty, but it’s bad for the body and mind. I’ll head over to the Caribbean once I’m done with work. The weather’s fine now anyway.)

It was a radiant smile. It never changed at all, just like how it was when his childish eyes looked up at her many years ago—no, it was a ‘woman’s smile, one more beautiful than before over time. This woman understood everything, from the feelings of the “Nahel Argama” crew to the psychology required to talk to them at the right moments, and she was manipulating others like chess pieces on a board. Even though she understood, she did not pull forcefully, but set a direction for people to follow, and this was an attribute of a leader…is that so? a sudden chill suddenly blew by Alberto’s heart as he lowered his silent face.

Where do I intend to go after this? Do I have no way back? Alberto looked at the hand that could not shake off the feeling when he squeezed the trigger as he thought, (Oh yes.) Martha seemed to recall something she forgot as she called out.

(That man who used to be Cardeas’ secretary, he’s called Gael, right? It seems that he’s missing.)

Alberto was prompted by the beating in his heart as he looked up.

(There are signs that he used some trade routes Anaheim has to interact with the “Sleeves”. Perhaps he’s trying to take revenge for his dead master.)

Martha’s lips showed a smirk, and she looked like a demon that was looking down at the soul in her hand.

(It is true that the kind of master would determine the kind of subordinate…be careful. Both you and I are on a path of no return.)

Martha used these words to lay a curse. The soul was restrained in the hand, and Martha stared at Alberto while giving him a look not to be complacent. Alberto felt the detesting feeling that was budding in him collapse completely as he softly answered, “Yes…” and cut the communication link with “Von Braun” on the moon.

The satisfied look Martha gave as she narrowed her eyes disappeared, and the thicker darkness that filled the communication room surrounded him. Alberto felt a chill as he suspected that someone was hiding within. Is it that man who bore Cardeas’ grudge? Is he someone who intend to bare his fangs on my neck in this darkness— Alberto left the console, unlocked the door and arrived on the corridor outside. He ignored the stares of his subordinates standing outside the door as he grabbed the lift grip leading to the bridge.

Alberto tidied his tie and took in the air filled with paint fumes into his cold lungs. He was slowly getting used to the air in the bridge, but it could not be helped. No one here would speak up for him, and no one would help him. The only place of solace he had was the clutches of the demon that was looking at the world from the Moon, the only moment where he could relax. Alberto became an a.s.sociate of Anaheim Electronics everyone hated as he went to the bridge. The darkness that followed him showed no signs of fading, and he felt the temperature rising up his body that was moving in zero gravity.

The thick green machine looked like it was sc.r.a.pped as it sat on the floor, unable to be stored on the hangars that were available, and to those who were already used to seeing the eyes of the Federation units, this scene caused pure surprise. The 4 moveable binders were hanging from the shoulders, and if any one of them was taken away, the volume would be equivalent to that of an ordinary mobile suit. The only term that could describe this humanoid-shaped machine that could move the binders on its own freely and display exceeding mobility would be ‘Heavyweight’.

“The NZ-666 “Kshatriya”. From the model number itself, we can determine that this is an original mobile suit created by Neo Zeon. They did install a Psycoframe around the c.o.c.kpit, but it’s an old model. They probably used the test materials provided from Anaheim during “Char’s Counterattack”.”

Aaron Terzieff put his hands on the twisted c.o.c.kpit hatch as he looked inside the c.o.c.kpit, saying this. He was someone related to the UC plan detained from “Industrial 7”, and he was an important witness under ECOAS’ management at this point, but there was no better choice than him to a.n.a.lyze the unknown Psycommu machine that was detained on the ship. Otto Mitas used his Captain’s authority to borrow Aaron for the time being as he stood on the catwalk built at the side of the mechanic deck, staring at the “Kshatriya”—the 4-winged that belonged to the “Sleeves” and took down lots of ships and units—and observing it.

There was also the Romeo 010 “ReZEL” on this mechanic deck that could be considered a ship’s factory, and the other crew members were exchanging its missing arm. In contrast , the “Kshatriya” did have its limbs intact, but the total damage was worse than the Romeo 010. The sub-arms that were hidden inside the binders were melted from the back, and the conducting fluids continued to leak out from several parts of the machine at this point. The front end of the sleeve that melted and solidified lost the right hand it should have. The armor that had many curves was dented severely because of the heat and the impact, reminiscent of a thoroughly abused human. That “Gundam” did all that? Otto swallowed as he recalled the white mobile suit that was undergoing repairs on the mobile suit deck and asked the person beside him, “You once said that only “Granada” on the Moon has Psycommu production facilities, right?” Aaron lifted his head that was originally poking inside the c.o.c.kpit hatch, and answered,

“Yes. The “Unicorn”s Psycoframe was also developed by the Anaheim factory on “Granada”. As it was announced that this technology was terminated, we did everything there considering the secrecy of the work.”

“Why was it suddenly stopped?”

“I heard that it was because it ventured into too many unknown territories. Besides, it is made by man, and the electronics system can be explained through system reasoning. However, let’s take for example the moment the “Unicorn” activates its NT-D system. It looks like the psycoframe revealed from under is glowing, right? Even we, the manufacturers, have no idea why it’s glowing either.”

The ECOAS member who was supervising Aaron from behind showed a surprised expression too. “You don’t know either?”

“The psycommu receives the psycowaves from the pilot and amplifies it—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, resonate. What we can be certain is that the psyco chips, each the size of a metal particle and molded into the frame, would react to it, but we just have no idea why it’s glowing. The glow pattern would also vary according to the person riding on it. Anyway, this seems like it’s a phenomenon that happens when the psycowaves overloads the system, but the electric voltage of the psycommu would not increase because of this, and we have no idea what’s the relationship between the psycowave level and the glow patterns. The key itself is still human thought waves, and this thing called consciousness itself can’t be a.n.a.lyzed through data alone.

“If that psyco chip is the size of a particle, won’t it glow when it reacts with the psycowaves and vibrate?”

“Stop joking here. If that were the case, we wouldn’t have used it on the movable frame at all. It’s nonsense to have a weapon that’s glowing and tells the enemy your location here.”

Aaron said with a rather angry tone, and Otto could only shut his mouth of an amateur.

“The overloaded electricity would cause the electric cords to become red, right? It seems that the theory behind it is the same, but it’s not just giving off heat. It looks like it’s giving off light, and its light properties can be recorded, but this light isn’t just emitted through electric output. I hate to say this as a technician, but this is an unknown light. And also, it can be become a source of physical energy…”

At that moment, Aaron’s words stopped unnaturally as he looked away to an unspecified area. “Source of energy?” Otto, who glanced over to ask back, looked at the expression the supervising ECOAS member was giving, “Have you seen the “Unicorn”s battle records?” and rounded off.

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t see it myself, but I can roughly guess how it went from the damage this thing suffered. It was probably an overwhelmingly one-sided battle, right? Even if the a.s.sistance of the NT-D, the power it showed was abnormal. This is far different from the specifications we originally envisioned. It’s making us scared for no reason.”

Aaron looked at the half-trashed “Kshatriya” and frowned at it in a psychotic manner. His expression erased any plans Otto had of trying to change the topic. It was really an abnormal battle. What kind of expression will Aaron show if he learns that the pilot of the “Unicorn” is a student who’s still a novice at this? Otto could not give a wry smile at this even though he wanted to, and his lowered stare turned around because of another voice that called him from behind “Captain.”

“There’s contact from the infirmary. The prisoner’s awake now.”

Liam Borrinea grabbed onto the handrail to negate the inertia, let her feet land on the floor, and handed the clinical records to Otto. Otto looked back at the meaningful stare his vice-officer was giving, turned his back on Aaron, who continued to inspect the machine, and looked down at the clinical records.

“Leaving aside her external wounds, it seems that she’s rather frail now. I don’t think she’s in a state to last through an interrogation.”

“…What’s with all the scalds and scars written on this?”

There were records of numerous scars and burns on the human diagnostics outline drawn on the clinical records. The attached photos graphically showed old scars on the thighs and the cleavage. It was impossible to imagine those as injuries incurred from riding a mobile suit. Liam looked aside, “Many perverts probably used her so some toy.” and said with disgust.

“According to doctor Ha.s.san, her female functions are already wrecked.”

This really caused Otto to be silent. Liam did not look at Otto, who inadvertently looked up, as she glared at the floor with a furious expression.

“I heard that a Newtype squad full of clones was sent into battle at the end of the First Neo Zeon war. They should have been wiped out already—”

“So there was someone who survived, but ended up like this, huh…”

“Maybe she got picked up by some savage human trader. It’s said that when Cyber-Newtypes lose the people giving them instructions, they will become puppets with broken strings. Most likely, she didn’t even know anything when…”

Liam grabbed onto the handrail and swallowed the words she was about to say next. She showed the pain and unhappiness only a woman would understand, and her wide shoulders looked rather bewitching to Otto at this point. He did not know how old Marida Cruz, the pilot of this “Kshatriya” was at this point, but from her looks, it was impossible that she would be above 20. In that case, she would be around 10 when she took part in the First Neo Zeon war—it would be too serious to describe her as simply a war casualty, a term that could be thrown randomly. He closed the clinical records and sighed out from within.

“This technology has no responsibility over the outcome, but it’s like it was born to destroy humanity according to demands and interests. I really can’t deny that this is a vice of humanity. There’s no saving us here.”

Liam muttered, and Aaron could be seen investigating the “Kshatriya” right in front of her. The technician forgot about the terrifying words he said a minute ago that came out of nowhere, and only cared about tinkering with the toy he got. His engrossed expression caused Otto to sigh just when he thought he went out of breath. “Leave the questioning of the prisoner to the Senate Council”, he said as he returned the clinical records to Liam.

“We do want information on the “Sleeves”, but we won’t be able to think of anything in our tired states. Let’s just return back to the port at “Luna II” first.”

It had been 40 hours since they left the shoal s.p.a.ce region in L1. On estimate, the “Nahel Argama” seemed like it was already halfway through the return path back to “Luna II” as it gradually approached the Earth’s geostationary orbit. At this point, the Neo Zeon fleet would have no reason to pursue them. “I understand.” Liam’s voice in her reply indicated that she felt a little better.

“No matter what, they can’t possibly ask us to detour off to another place…”

Otto was half-joking, but suddenly noticed Liam’s face tensing up, and he turned over to where his eyes at where she was looking at.

Looking far away, he could tell that it was Alberto’s round pudgy body kicking off the handrail from the other side, floating over to this mechanic deck. His face was pale for some reason, and he looked timid when he met Otto and the rest in the eyes, but changed his expression as he made a mysterious smile.

“I hope not…”

I have a bad feeling about this. Otto and Liam could not help but hold onto the handrail in unison, bracing themselves for the G.o.d of Plague that was about to arrive.

“…I don’t feel that there’s a need for that.”

“We can’t be certain here, right? She’s a Cyber-Newtype!”

It was unknown who was talking. Banagher opened his eyes and looked up at the fluorescent plate on the ceiling, the one with a metal net to prevent breaking inside the infirmary, just like the moment when he first woke up on the “Nahel Argama” for the first time—

“Besides, her muscles were enhanced too. Won’t she try to resist with all she has once the drugs wear off? We should restrain her before that happens.”

“Only those who were modified later on would be like that. She’s of the congenital genetic design type, so there’s no need to administer drugs that would suppress such reactions.

It was the voices of Ensign Mihiro Oiwakken and Doctor Ha.s.san—and Banagher could tell who they were talking about. His mind that just awoke from sleep started working, and he continued to lie on the bed as he turned around. “But…!” Mihiro’s insecure voice rang in Banagher’s ears, through the accordion curtain that was draped down from the ceiling.

“She looks stable emotionally, and more importantly, her wounds aren’t healed. I can’t allow such a patient wear a straitjacket in this condition.”

“She’s a Cyber-Newtype from Neo Zeon! She might suddenly attack when you aren’t noticing, doctor—”

“Miss Marida definitely won’t do that.”

Before he realized it, Banagher spoke up. He supported his limp upper body as he pulled the curtain aside.

Ha.s.san, who was seated in front of the treatment table, and Mihiro, who was standing beside him, both looked over at Banagher, “Banagher…!” Mihiro spoke up as she widened her eyes, and those eyes were immediately covered with a tint of malice. “He’s here too?” the sharp questioning voice caused an awkward mood to spread through the infirmary.

“He’s considered to be recovering from an illness. I gave him a drip to let him rest after treatment…how do you feel?”

Ha.s.san’s voice had a intent to calm the atmosphere, but Banagher did not listen properly. He continued to stare at Mihiro’s stiff expression and muttered, “You want to make an injured person wear a straitjacket…” but Mihiro responded with a highly agitated voice, “This isn’t something you should be interrupting at all?”

“Why is this? Miss Marida is an officer here. Don’t you have a specific set of rules for dealing with prisoners?”

“The “Sleeves” are terrorists. No matter whether she’s an officer or not, she’s still a criminal.”

“But Miss Marida…”

“Were you brainwashed on “Palau” too? She’s the pilot of that 4-winged, and the culprit that destroyed your colony. Who knows how many of our comrades were killed by her—”

“Even if that’s true…! But there’s nothing to talk about when you keep stereotypes like this, right? This isn’t like you at all, Miss Mihiro.”

Mihiro turned aside her face as she was at a loss of words, and went silent, “…I’ll send a guard to stand by her. Tell me first if you want to move her from the infirmary. She told Ha.s.san and hurriedly left the infirmary. “Understood.” Ha.s.san answered lazily as he waited for her to disappear behind the door before looking over at Banagher . “Do forgive her here.” He said as he immediately turned his chair to the treatment table. Banagher’s mystified stare was right at his white back.

“Ensign Riddhe did not return. She does have her emotions after all.”

Ah. Banagher felt that the voice released from his chest was stuck in his throat, and he felt difficulty in breathing. None of the crew on this ship, whether it was Mihiro or Ha.s.san, knew the truth here— the uneasy feeling suddenly rose up in him as he reached for the bottle on the side-table. He took a warm sip of water, swallowed it together with his guilty thoughts, and used his hands to touch head that fell asleep from who knew when.

Marida was in the Intensive Care Unit, while the other patients were inside the sick bay, so he and Ha.s.san were the only ones here. Banagher saw the CT scan installation on the wall, and did not understand as he felt a chill, saying in an inquiring manner, “Is this the scan you mentioned about before?” Ha.s.san turned his head slightly, “Huh?”

“You checked whether I was a Cyber-Newtype too, didn’t you?”

“Looking at the facilities here, the results are clear.” Ha.s.san’s words when he first woke up in this infirmary became a source of anxiety, and it continued to ring in Banagher’s ears. Ha.s.san scratched his head in an awkward manner as he turned his head to the table and answered, “Well, I really felt like investigating when you suddenly came out of the “Gundam” like that.”

“Is Miss Marida really just like what she said? What is a Cyber-Newtype?”

“That’s a fantasy those crazy scientists have. They want to use artificial means to create Newtypes, but in fact, they only created human weapons for war.”

Banagher’s mind recalled the face of the blue-eyed girl on the gla.s.s window of the capsule. There was no clear sense of realism, and he tried to dig deeper into this other person’s memory that would fade off like an echo—his clen