The air was filled with the peculiar odor of paint and overheated wires, a stench unique to a military battleship where one would have no choice but to accept that he was in a sealed s.p.a.ce. The liftgrip lined along the wall became a long and useless installation under gravity, and what was extended in front of Alberto’s eyes was a pa.s.sage that was without any characteristic except for practical use. Alberto Vist was running down the pa.s.sage, ignoring the bouncing of his loose flesh whenever his soles. .h.i.t the floor and his struggling knees as he dashed down the long pa.s.sage. He pushed aside the battleship crew on the pa.s.sage, arrived at the T-junction where the wall stood in front of him, and saw the air lock of the mobile suit deck he was looking for.

He, who was so anxious that he was seemingly about to knock into the door panel, did not check the values of the pressure gauge as he pressed the opening switch. The wind that blew outside was proof that the air outside had moved into the mobile suit deck. At this point, the “Ra Cailum” was moving in a relatively low height, but the air pressure at 500m height was still a lot lower than the air pressure maintaining the inside of the ship. Alberto arrived at a corner of the mobile suit deck that could be called a large hollow cave, followed the narrow channel along the wall, poked his body out from the handrail and looked at the bow of the ship. The shutter linked to the catapult deck was completely opened merely moments ago, and the blunt heavy sounds caused by the metals stepping on the floor rang throughout as he saw an abnormally shaped uniformly black machine pa.s.s through the shutter.

The streamlined cold-looking machine had a mask that completely covered the profile of its face. The mechanics solders saw majestic sight of the golden shining horn at the top of the “Banshee”, and stopped whatever they were doing as they gave it a look of shock. The white machine of the “Unicorn” could be seen beside the “Banshee”, but this machine that had a horn too was slumped weakly and could only stand straight with the support of the “Banshee”. The left arm equipped with the shield was slumped limply while the muzzle of the beam Gatling was almost sticking to the ground.

As seen through the monitor on the bridge, the pitch black shiny armor of the “Banshee” showed no signs of any scars as compared to the “Unicorn” that had lost all life within. Alberto basked his face in the air filled with the stench of oil, stared at the white machine that was thoroughly stained in dust, and charged towards the mobile suit hangar located at the wall. He could see Bentner and his a.s.sistants, dressed in white clothes, on the gondola beside the hangar set aside temporarily for the “Banshee”s use as they worked on the observation equipment they brought into the ship.

The “Banshee” ignored the humans looking at it as it bent down like a human and let the “Unicorn” resting on its shoulders slump onto the deck. “How’s the situation?” Alberto panted as he got onto the gondola from the gap and asked Bentner, whose bald head turned around as he arched his back, saying,

“I should say that it’s more ideal than what we expected here. The adaptability the specimen showed with regards to the “Banshee” is rather flawless, and there’re no problems with the link with the NT-D.”

Albeto looked at the Newtype Research Facility Head who was sneering away and felt a sense of unease rather than relief. The backdoor left beforehand meant that the brainwashing was incomplete, and someone sent her in discreetly. “This is a case of being easier than it is. Perhaps Madam Martha’s values managed to provide an influence here.” While Bentner continued on, Alberto reached his hand for the elevator b.u.t.ton of the gondola, and descended 10m while Bentner and his a.s.sistants hurriedly grabbed the handrail. Once the gondola stopped, he hopped onto the deck.

The “Banshee”s ma.s.sive frame was headed towards the hangar as it moved its feet that were as large as an automobile. Alberto glanced aside at the abdomen that was approximately level with the 4th storey, and at that instant, recalled the face of the “specimen” inside the c.o.c.kpit, and ran towards the “Unicorn” lying slumped on the deck. The mobile suit squad that was deployed to Dakar had already returned, and the deck hangar was already half-filled with landing crafts. Alberto told himself secretly to finish his own job before the ship crew and pilots calmed down. He darted around the feet of the “Jestas” that were giving off smoke caught from the fires, and crossed the deck together with his subordinates who were starting to gather around him. “WHAT’S GOING ON!?” However, an angry roar stopped him in his tracks.

“I just got blindsided by that black “Unicorn”! Call out the pilot! Who’s the one in charge here!?”

The pilot was stopped by the subordinates in black suits, but he still turned his furious stare at Alberto, who had an impression on his face. He spotted the machine, the “Delta Plus” that was lying on its back as it was being taken in after the a.s.sault of the “Banshee”, and faked a genuine smile as he answered, “My my, isn’t that Ensign Riddhe?”

“I heard that you died in battle on the “Nahel Argama”. It’s really great to see you safe and sound.”

The pilot widened his eyes and gave a startled look back at Alberto. “You’ Anaheim’s…” Riddhe Marcenas said, “I’m Alberto Vist of the Vist Foundation.” only to be interrupted by Alberto, who looked over the shoulder of his subordinate and stared right at the blond hair that looked agitated from the battlefield.

“I have to apologize to you for the inappropriate handling of the situation. The Foundation ordered the pilot of the “Banshee” to secure the “Unicorn” as a top priority mission.”

“The “Banshee”…you’re referring to that black “Unicorn”?”

“Exactly. Currently, it’s the RX-0 with the highest completion rate, and doesn’t have the excessive item of the Laplace Program. One can say it’s a mobile suit that’s purely designed to tackle Newtypes.” Riddhe gasped and pulled his lower jaw up, showing the guilt of a similar secret they shared. He, as the real son of Ronan Marcenas, was a hawk sent from the Settlement Issues Council, and Alberto understood this as well. Don’t let him get close—Alberto commanded with this expression and ignored the stare clinging onto him as he tried to turn away. “Oi, hold it! What authority do you people have…!” An angry voice followed, but Alberto shook him off by saying “Captain Bright understands.” And quickly approached the “Unicorn”.

There were burn marks all over the white machine as it was dyed a layer of black stain. A steamy hot wind blew at Alberto’s face as the latter arrived at its feet. The mechanics equipping with firefighting equipment were on standby around the machine in case a fire broke up. “n.o.body’s to get close to it! That’s our Foundation’s property!” Alberto growled and put on the gloves his subordinates handed him as his moved through the crowd. As his subordinates scattered to prevent any of the ship crew from approaching, Alberto did not find as he brought his hand to touch the still-scalding “Unicorn”.

He climbed up the ladder his subordinate prepared and used the front armor at the waist as a footing and climbed to the c.o.c.kpit hatch at the abdomen. The key of the “Laplace Box” Cardeas created, this pure white machine that bore the fate of the world—was finally in front of his sights. Alberto originally intended to use the “Ra Cailum” as the base for the search, but he never thought that he would be able to get his hands on the “Unicorn” right after he met the ship. He would not allow anyone else to interfere, and intended to immediately cut up the abdomen to extract the secrets of the “Box”. He used his gloved hand to touch his face that immediately felt feverish, stood beside the c.o.c.kpit cover, and whispered to his subordinate that followed up, “Do it.” The subordinate nodded, opened the access hatch, and pulled the emergency lever. The sound of hot air being exhausted could be h.o.a.rd, the cover that covered the torso to the abdomen was opened, and the rectangular c.o.c.kpit hatch appeared in front of Alberto’s eyes.

The c.o.c.kpit was still bright as it was function. Alberto waited for his subordinates to draw their automatic pistols, checked the situation inside the c.o.c.kpit, nodded, and stepped into that cramped ball-shaped s.p.a.ce. On the linear seat surrounded by the all-view monitor, one could see a pilot in his suit, lying limp on it.

Banagher Links—he muttered the name he could not shake off in his heart ever since he arrived onto Earth, and peered at the groggy face through the helmet. The swollen face looked like it was punched before; is it because he was exposed to the tremendous G-force? Alberto shook off this suspicion that suddenly appeared in his mind and looked around at the all-view monitor which displayed the scenery on the deck. There was nothing abnormal to note of, other than a few windows that were not functional. Alberto did not know the circ.u.mstances which led to the “Unicorn” taking part in the battle of Dakar, but since the NT-D was activated, there was a very high probability that new information was revealed. He brought his hand to the linear seat, stared at the monitors that were full of static noise, and then turned to look at the display board on the seat.

Alberto saw that on the 3 display boards, the middle one was showing the “La+” logo, and his heart immediately jumped. This was the thing, the Laplace Program that lit the way to the “Box”. Since the system was on standby, he would be able to retrieve the data just by operating on it. Is it an intermediate point here? Or is it going to reveal the location of the “Box” directly? he looked behind, checked that no one was peeping into the c.o.c.kpit, and reached his trembling hand for the touch panel. at that moment, the sound of the power being shut off rang, and he was surrounded by darkness.

The all-view monitor images disappeared, showing the ball-shaped monitor panels. The “LA+” signal disappeared like an illusion. Alberto desperately activated the switches of the standby power, but no matter how he tried, there was no electricity, and the touch panel’s signal did not revert to its original state. Was the generator cables burnt off? He wiped his forehead that was sweating like rain, and as he reached his hand for the monitor beside the linear seat, he saw a white object flash by his sights.

“It’s useless there.”

From below the helmet visor, the whites of Banagher’s eyes appeared in the darkness, and his swollen face was distorted with a smile. The monitor did not shut off naturally, it was switched off—Alberto felt a chill in his mind as he understood this, and stared at the boy lying limp on the linear seat. The latter’s firm stare overlapped with Cardeas’ eyes, and Alberto felt the sweat on his body cool down.

It had been more than a day, but the sky of Dakar broadcasted through the television was still a light brown. Perhaps it was new dust raised during the removal of rubble and relief aid, or perhaps it was the deaths of 40,000 who were killed without reason lingering at this place.

The wreckage of the mobile armor was surrounded by several construction machines, showing its body amidst the hastily a.s.sembled scaffolding. There were so many wounded that they were lined on the corridors, and the dire situation of the city hospitals was such that one would mistake them for guerilla hospitals. The wasteland of rubble that extended beyond the horizon, the dead and wounded that overlay on them, and the marquee messages for the missing were all roaming under a color of tea brown. Ronan Marcenas stared at the number of casualties that continued to increase in thousands, and felt a familial sense of guilt in his heart— are these the victims of the Box? As he felt this surge of emotions, he looked away from the television in his office. He turned his chair to the window where the sunset was shining in, and brought his ear to the phone receiver tucked between his shoulder and cheek again as he remarked wryly, “Everyone’s being extremely busy now. It will hurt to have suspected without proof here.”

“This incident is really completely unexpected to us. As you know, Dakar has a lot of capital invested in it. I’m just telling you over the phone that I too used the name of my company to buy Dakar company shares. What benefit does it have to me to turn the shares I have into sc.r.a.p paper?”

(It can stimulate the Federation army realignment plan—I wonder how you feel if you explain it this way?)

A woman’s voice let out this immediate answer through the hotline phone directed via satellite. (This incident most definitely shows that there are threats still present on Earth. Including the s.p.a.ce forces, this can prompt the armed forces on Earth to strengthen themselves and sweep all Zeon forces before the Republic dissembles…it will definitely bring about great economic benefit. The loss of the stocks in Dakar can be replaced easily like that, right?)

Martha Vist Carbine—the Empress of the Moon was a woman not to be underestimated. This determined and influential person was just as the economic and political world described, and at this point, she was snickering on the other end on the phone. She had just gotten onto the “Ra Cailum” which rushed off to Dakar, and she was already on the Captain’s hotline phone as she made this call to Ronan’s office, giving this deliberate taunting words. Ronan had already known that Martha came to Earth, but he had to admit that she, who dealt with the situation in Dakar faster than anyone else, who even sent in the 2nd RX-0 to the scene as a souvenir, was abnormally active in this. Ronan pulled in the “Ra Cailum” to search for the “Box” in order to prevent the Vist Foundation from interfering, but looking at the current situation, he was being apprehended.

Since Martha could interfere with the backing of the Senate Council Vice Chairman, it was likely that she had at least acquired the approval of the Senate Council chairman, or even a high ranking official approval—this possibility did exist. To these high ranking officials who would react according to the winds and cared only on their short-term benefits and self-preservation, how much impact will the incident in Dakar bring to them? How much restrain will they abandon? Ronan felt through the phone call that Martha had everything clear in mind, “In that case, you’ll be the ones benefitting from this, right?” and answered back, smearing mud on the other party’s face.

“Anaheim Electronics President’s wife…no, I should be calling you the subst.i.tute leader of the Vist Foundation now, right?”

(Just call me Martha.)

“Then, Martha, even if our main plea is to increase the military supplies, we will definitely not use the capital as a sacrifice. Unlike Lhasa three years ago, we have many casualties on the government’s side too. First, the party that triggered this incident wasn’t Neo Zeon, but Islamic radicals who preached about breaking away from the orthodox teachings.”

At this moment, the television just so happened to show the Garvey Enterprise building, and Ronan turned his sights to glance at that image. There were police cars parked right in front of the building, and the investigators carrying cardboard boxes were gathered in hordes like ants at the main entrance. The investigations included the dealings with other companies, and the initial stage of the various procedures with regards to the freezing of the Garvey Enterprises a.s.sets were most likely completed. The solar generators Garvey Enterprise had were absorbed under the Government’s control, and the operating profits would be used to rebuild Dakar and compensate the bereaved relatives of the victims. This process was most likely planned to the details by a.s.sistance teams created by related independent organizations. Fortunately, or not, the Senate Council and the surrounding official areas managed to avoid this calamity, and the Senators were slowly gathered at this capital that was off its alert phase, summoned for an emergency parliamentary meeting.

The objective of the man named Mahdi Garvey was still unconfirmed, but this one terrorist attack was not enough to cause the gears of money and power to stop. The bribery of the supervising inst.i.tutes to build that mobile armor, the political contributions, and the expenses required to rebuild the capital; these was the bloodstream of the capitalist society, locked within a sealed loop. Did this man descend upon madness because of the “Box” too?He looked at Mahdi’s VTR that was being replayed again, and uttered these words in his heart before looking back outside the window again. (These radicals you say have a Neo Zeon insignia on their mobile armor. Also, there were eyewitness reports of the “Sleeves” mobile suits, right?) Martha argued back and used her voice to choke Ronan’s neck.

“There are always implications behind lawbreakers, regardless of principles or propositions. Anyway, the shock from this incident is second only to the previous “Char’s Counterattack”. The security on all the government facilities have to be increased, and all ships moving to and from Earth will be checked on without exception. Of course, including the remnants of Neo Zeon, we will carry out the thorough eradication of the terrorists. Considering he economic losses from the delay in shipments and the added adjusted budgets on both the military and public safety sides, I wonder how much more money we will have to spend here—”

(Chairman Ronan, what you said is ostensibly right, but we civilians have it tougher in terms of money. Let’s stop groveling in the dirt on each other and talk about something that will benefit both parties.)

“I hope so too, but I am someone who has to get to somewhere immediately too.”

(Then I’ll cut the chase. I heard that a certain highly esteemed visitor is currently residing in your residence, Chairman. I hope you can hand that person over to our care.)

Ronan’s heart that would not be shaken by practically anything suddenly skipped a beat, and his hand that was holding onto the receiver trembled. He had already prepared himself when he asked the military for a full time surveillance watch that ‘her’ staying in his house would soon be revealed, but he never expected the other party to stab him first. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say…” Ronan immediately answered, but Martha again took the initiative as she cut him off, (You’re the one who said that you don’t want to waste time.) and spoke with a cold tone.

(This is for that person’s safety too. The terrorists chose to attack the capital during the parliament break, and most likely, the media will think that the government’s trying to creating an act. The opposition that think that the money should be allocated to welfare instead of the army realignment plan will stand on the same frontline as the media, and the final responsibility will be pointed at the Settlement Issues Council that has been pushing for the realignment. At this point, if people find out that the princess of Zeon is hidden in the house of the Council chairman…)

The leaders of the military body moved only for body, secretly colluded with Neo Zeon, and planned a terrorist attack using Islamic militants as a cover-up to help increase the budget of the Federation army’s realignment plan—this script that could not be overturned easily immediately flashed through in Ronan’s mind, and his held himself from clicking his tongue and closed his eyes. “This is really an impeccable rhetoric you have there. One might even suspect that you’re the mastermind here!” Ronan retorted sarcastically, and Martha could not hold back her snicker (The majority of the society only believes in what they hope to believe) as she spoke with a cold tone.

(Everything is a conspiracy set by the Settlement Issues Council. I suppose this story should be an exciting fantasy the foolish public will like, right?)

“Will the secretive Foundation hiding the mysterious “Box” appear in that fantasy?”

(Let’s see. If the media is willing to let go of all advertis.e.m.e.nts related to the Foundation, with Anaheim Electronics first, they’ll definitely be able to write a more interesting fantasy.)

Did she expect everything here? Ronan realized that this opponent was not going to be easy as he gave a sigh of realization, “Speaking of the Foundation, I did hear of a rumor.” and raised a topic to revive the situation.

“The Senate is currently discussing about reevaluating the laws of societies and foundations. If this bill is pa.s.sed, the audits for public welfare will be stricter, and the non-profit organizations that exist only in name will be taxed like legal ent.i.ties. In other words, the idea of taking advantage of a non-taxable privilege to h.o.a.rd funds for the Foundation won’t work. Amongst it, the Foundation may most likely have to disband.”

(What has this got to do with the secret organization hiding the “Box”?)

“Of course it has nothing to do with it, but the premise before that is that you must certainly have the “Box” first.”

The breath from the other end of the phone vanished, and for the first time, Martha answered back in silence. Ronan was not bluffing; he had prepared countless legal ways to force the Vist Foundation into a corner for this moment. He held his breath and waited for the other party’s response, but after several seconds, (I won’t let you lead me here.) Martha merely answered coldly.

(Please hand “her” to the Foundation. This will benefit both sides.)

“Leaving aside my side, what benefit will you get?”

(You can think about that. We’ve acquired the mobile suit that’s basically the key to the “Box”. Don’t forget that the benefits and ills of preventing the “Box” from being revealed works for both of us.)

Ronan lost the battle completely in this one. The RX-0 which contained the signals locating the “Box”, the authority over the “Ra Cailum” and all the bargaining chips on the table were in Martha’s hand. It was difficult to deal with the aftermath of the Dakar situation with the power of the Federation government alone. if he did not rely on the power of the Vist Foundation, he would end up causing the government to dissolve. (Please make a decision as quickly as possible.) Martha then spoke in a rhetoric, not even a question, and Ronan let out a heavy sigh.

(Just send her to the “Ra Cailum”. You do know the location of the ship now? It’s where your prince is working hard at now.)

“Yeah, this world is so small. I should ask you not to do anything to my son, shouldn’t I?”

(Why would I? I don’t want to be enemies against you.)

Martha finished this conversation with a thoroughly sarcastic reply and cut the line. Ronan put down the receiver and looked at the sunset that was redder than before, leaned on the back of the leather chair, and sighed.

The neighing of a horse came from the courtyard, and the window trembled slightly. That’s Pilgrim, right? Riddhe had been riding it around for a while, and once he left, it naturally can’t shake off its excessive vigor; This was what Dwiyon revealed to Ronan. He looked at the photo hanging on the wall, a photo with Ronan and a 5-year-old beaming Riddhe, and turned to look at the television without sound. A VTR of the disaster that was probably taken by a victim showed a collapsing skysc.r.a.per, the dust that loomed, and the people who were unable to evacuate in time. That scene was just like h.e.l.l on Earth.

Did Riddhe witness this battlefield too? He, bounded by the destiny of the Marcenas family, and treated his affections for the princess of Zeon as the only solace, did he witness this h.e.l.l too? Ronan was emotionally-struck by a sense of depression and switched off the television.

After this, Riddhe will experience all sorts of despair again. He will think that his father betrayed him, will harbor hatred where he can’t release it, and will wait for things to develop, but this can’t be helped. I can only do this to let him and the world he lives for continue to exist. I can only do this to prevent the 100-year-old curse from toppling the world—Ronan closed his eyes silently, let out a sigh, opened his eyes again, and picked up the receiver of the internal phone.

“Bring Miss Mineva Zabi over.”

Night instantly arrived as the sunset hid itself behind the forest ridge. The road with hardly any vehicles pa.s.sing by on it, let alone pedestrians, was dyed a darkness of night, and a wind that came from seemingly nowhere caused the entire field of black malt to rustle. Looking over, there were no street lights or anything, and there were no signs of any city lights. The only items that seemed to be holdovers from the old age, the telephone poles were extended across the horizon on both paths, leading far away.

It had been more than 3 hours since she followed her plan and escaped from the Marcenas’ residence. She should have reached the city earlier, according to her predictions, but at this point, it did not look like she was approaching the city anytime soon. She only walked for 7km, but she never expected it to take so much time and energy. The only things that could be used as landmarks were the windmills acting as wind-powered electricity. Mineva Lao Zabi looked far beyond the windmills, and opened up the map she brought from the residence, but found that the surroundings was so dark the words could not be seen, and bit her lips. The map rustled with the wind, and she looked around to inspect her surroundings. There was a worn-out restaurant sign beside the road in front of her that was about to descend into darkness.

It was a cottage-sized diner, a shop that could occasionally be seen in a colony. There was only one car parked at the parking lots in front of the shop, and business did not seem bustling. Mineva peeked through the slightly dirty window to look into the shop, checked that it was seemingly not a gathering of ill-intentioned motorists, and pushed the double hinged doors aside.

She could see only a counter and 6 box seats there, and after looking around, she could not spot a customer or even a shop attendant. “Is it possible to have a meal here?” she asked meekly, and a chair opposite the counter could be heard moving. An old man who was ostensibly the shop owner suddenly poked his head out, and his obviously surprised stare met Mineva’s in the eyes.

The shopkeeper quickly whipped up some greasy fries, a hamburger and a salad with only tomato and lettuce, and again sat on the simple chair opposite the counter. The television set in a corner of the counter was showing the news of the Dakar incident. The incident involved the remnants of Neo Zeon, the Federation army had increased their security, and the thousands of missing—or dead, trapped under the rubble; as she digested on the news broadcaster"s words, Mineva silently ate her food. Even after deducting the expenses of the long-distance bus trip from the city, she still had enough money. This money was borrowed from Zinnerman’s bag after she left a message for the latter. She recalled how she hid from the others to search another person’s bag, and thinking about this act she once did pained her as her hairs stood; however, she had already experienced in “Industrial 7” the reality that she could not do anything without money. She considered that since she could only use this little money left, she should not waste even a single coin, and she felt hesitant over the excessiveness of coffee after the meal.

In fact, even if she scrimped on her money, she would not be able to a.s.sure her future situation. She had a faint hope that once she reached the city, she would be able to meet with the anti-government forces and contact Neo Zeon, but she understood that the aftermath of the Dakar incident made her expectations harder to fulfill. In the worst situation, she may be captured by the Federation public security, but it was better than to be tamed by the Marcenas family. She wholeheartedly thought about avoiding being used as a diplomatic bargaining chip or a mean to settle the aftermath of the Dakar incident, and planned this escape while seemingly losing her mind, but had practically no plan on what to do after leaving the residence. Basically, even if she were to meet with someone who could provide her aid, she did not feel that the current Neo Zeon had room for her.

Full Frontal actually let a man like Mahdi Garvey cause rampage on Earth, and most probably, had a hand in this incident. He hasn’t obtained the “Box”, so why is it that he decided to add fuel to the fire—? She recalled the face with the icy cold mask in her mind, and could not help but clasp her hands. At this moment, a cup filled with coffee was served before her eyes, and after she lifted her head in doubt, she saw the shopkeeper, “Drink up. It’s my treat.” Who said this.

He did not put up a false smile, and his straightforward att.i.tude wore off Mineva’s urge to refuse this hospitality. “Thank you. I’ll help myself then.” Mineva answered and took a sip of coffee. it was probably expected to her, but it was a nice aromatic cup of coffee.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. Where are you from?”

The shopkeeper asked as he cleared up the plate containing the hamburger. Mineva hesitated for a while before pointing her finger upward, and the owner followed her finger as he looked up, replying, “You’re a s.p.a.cenoid? No wonder I never met you before.” He showed a smile, and Mineva showed an honest smile.

“I’ve been living on this rural land for so long that I almost forgot that there are people living in s.p.a.ce. Are you someone who’s here to sightsee? There’s nothing much to see around here.”

“No…to someone living in s.p.a.ce, it’s a delightful thing to be able to step onto the ground.”

“You’re referring to Earth’s gravity? To people like us, the gravity does inconvenience us in some way. If we can reach s.p.a.ce, my feet and waist will more or less feel lighter.”

The owner cleared the utensils clearly and wiped his hands on his aged ap.r.o.n. He still looked healthy and strong, but his hands showed the many years of toil and labor. Mineva spotted a young-looking youth who seemed to be the son of the shop owner, dressed in Federation uniform, on an old photo hanging on the wall, “Have you always been living on Earth, owner?” and tried to ask.

“Yeah, I never left America once ever since I was born. I did go to the orbital path once for a field trip in school when I was young. My wife’s now dead, and I did think of going to s.p.a.ce myself…but the money I saved up isn’t enough to pay for the expenses needed to migrate to s.p.a.ce.”

“I heard that the s.p.a.ce Migration is still under way, is it not?”

“That thing is like a ship ferrying slaves in the past, set up to ship the illegal residents into s.p.a.ce. Unbelievably, it seemed that they knew who didn’t want to go to s.p.a.ce too. Someone like me will never be nominated to be moved to s.p.a.ce.”

The shop owner laughed with a self-decrying flair as he poured coffee for himself and took a sip. There was no real evidence around, but Mineva could imagine that the son in the photo who set off probably never returned.

“I do feel reluctance about leaving a land I stayed on for many years, but in our era, we heard many tales of the devastation at the end of the old century from our forefathers when we were growing up. There were famines, natural disasters, wars…as bad as it can get. Humanity created the Federation government to escape from that h.e.l.l, and started to move people to s.p.a.ce. Some people said that they were just dumping the poor into s.p.a.ce, but many said that they went to s.p.a.ce on their own will. They all decided that they would not return to Earth before Earth’s natural environment recovered.”

She had already forgotten about this way of looking at things. The owner did not look at Mineva’s speechless face any further as he turned his sights at the special television program broadcasting the news.

“That Dakar’s just a land people feel will be devoured by the desert within a hundred years. Someone suggested about moving the capital over there after the war, probably to let the officials understand how bad Earth has deteriorated. The natural environment had finally started to recover, but the One Year War caused things to revert to how it was. Some felt that humanity should just move to s.p.a.ce entirely and let Earth rest…”

“Are there any people who think this way amongst the Federation government?”

“Yeah, I suppose there was a young and gifted idealist who thought of it this way too…but even after looking at the reality in Dakar, humanity hasn’t changed. The only thing that can be said however is that the desertification is so fast it’s completely beyond expectations, and then they moved the capital to that place called Lhasa in Tibet or something. After it was destroyed by the Neo Zeon terrorist attack, those guys returned back to Dakar to rebuild. In the end, Dakar still ended up as a terrorist target. There doesn’t seem to be a limit to the worrying here.”

“Even if ideals are correct, people’s feelings won’t follow…we’re really hopeless.”

“Those are some deep words you’re saying, Missy. You seem pretty knowledgeable.”

The owner gave a probing expression in his smile. Mineva then realized that she spoke too much and lowered her head.

“But it’s not good for a young person like you to view things this way. I guess it’s best that you remember that all things start from humanity’s good intentions.”

“Humanity’s, good intentions…?”

“The reason why we built the Federation government, why we carried out the s.p.a.ce migration plan, all of this was born from the good intention to save humanity and Earth. Those who wanted to stay on Earth and leave the land they were accustomed to their children did it out of their good intentions too. If the notion of wanting the company to earn money, or that of fulfilling the responsibilities we’ve been given are good intentions, then the intention to distinguish ourselves and change our families’ lives are of course good intentions…”

“But that should be called selfishness. It’s that kind of selfishness that ignores everyone else that the Earth—”

“Maybe, but if we deny that good intention, this world is basically darkness.”

The owner wet his lips with the coffee and said calmly. Mineva blinked her eyes, ostensibly caught by the flaw in her thinking.

“Some people suppressed their emotions just to work. That G.o.d in the East who abandoned his wife and son and left his house…Buddha, was it? I really can’t like that guy. I hate that Char who sent an asteroid falling down on us. He said that it was for the sake of Earth, for the sake of humanity, but what he did really caused me to wonder if he actually liked humanity before.”

These words rang in Mineva’s ears, seemingly tying down the her now. She could not entrust herself to those warm hands, she could not face the embrace that shrouded her, and she, who could not decide on her foundation, was just running away— “Then, what do you think I should do?” She realized the agitation she let out in her question as she looked at the owner face to face.

“Your question can be answered by those sly answers only adults can do. If I know the answer to that question, I won’t be here as a small diner boss in such a place here.”

The warm smile only an old man could give caused Mineva to relax her p.r.i.c.ked nerves. She took a small sigh and gave a light smile.

“I agree with it. Besides, it’s a must to understand our own limitations as humans…”

“That’s true, but it sure is troublesome to hear you as a young person speak like you saw through everything and gave a brief estimation for others, Missy.”

At this moment, the shop owner looked at Mineva right in the eyes and spoke. The latter felt that her cringed self was slapped on the back and gasped.

Right, she was the one who thought that she had seen through everything. She grumbled about the surrounding darkness and cringed, not willing to take the initiative to do anything. She should have known that waiting was not going to work, and light was not going to shine in. “Is that so…you’re right.” She subconsciously muttered and clasped her hands tightly.

“I escaped outside without being restricted, but I thought that I saw through everything, and couldn’t progress on…maybe I’m really just running away…”

The owner frowned with a puzzled look. What I want to do, and what I have to do—these aren’t what I should worry, but rather what I can do now… as Mineva repeated these thoughts in her mind, she silently muttered to herself, telling herself not to run away anymore. At this moment, the coffee cup suddenly rattled, and Mineva looked up at the ceiling.

The deep buzzing sound became more obvious from above, and she could hear that it was the rotors of a helicopter spinning, causing the vibrations to spread within the shop. As the gla.s.s windows and other cutlery started to rattle, the owner did not look away from the ceiling as he muttered, “Has the military decided to patrol around here too?”. There’s nothing to be afraid of. The moment she made this decision, the other party came to invite her. She gulped down the cold coffee, “Owner”, called out and got up from her seat. She placed the dining expenses on the counter and stared right at the owner who stared back at her in utter shock.

“The coffee was tasty. I suppose this trip to Earth was worth this cup of coffee alone.”

The spotlights that shone down from the sky dyed the windows inside the shop. The sounds of the vehicles being parked rang continuously, and the sounds of the vehicle doors being opened and closed followed. “You…” the owner spoke as he retreated, and Mineva turned her back to him and faced the diner’s doors. Soon after, the double hinged doors were pushed aside, and several men rushed in with killing intent.

These men were dressed in suits, but Mineva could tell that they had pistols in their suits. It was easy of them to capture her back—no, there had to be something for them to invite her back after letting her escape this far. Once she realized this predicament, she met a man in his forties right in the eyes. The man’s expression did not waver, “Miss Audrey Burne” as he feigned politeness.

“Chairman Ronan is waiting for you. Please follow us back.”

He approached Mineva without revealing any openings, and put his hand on her shoulder. At that moment, the emotions that was vented within Mineva immediately exploded, “How rude.” and a sharp voice came from her mouth,

“I’m Mineva Zabi. I have no intention to run away from hide. Make way.”

The taller man was ostensibly jolted by electricity as he shook his hand off, took a step back, and nearly tumbled. Mineva bowed to the wide-eyed owner behind the counter, walked towards the door, took a breath, and entered the gathered spotlight.

This is good. My time as Audrey Burne has ended. As the heir to the Zabi family, there are many things I have to face. This realization was gradually settled within Mineva’s heart as she let the downwash from the helicopter blow upon her.

“…I have no intention of undermining Londo Bell’s independence. However, though you are an external organization, the fact still remains that you belong to the Federation’s s.p.a.ce fleet, right? You have to listen to the order of the Senate chairman.”

Martha spoke as if she was a customer complaining about faulty goods. Her face, which was abnormally bewitching for her age, brought an overly intense flavor to the otherwise bland Captain’s room of the “Ra Cailum”. Bright Noa glanced aside to look at his impatient-looking First Officer Meran, “I have no objections to this order.” and showed a steeled face as he answered.

“The only thing about my personal doubt is regarding why is it that you, a civilian, had to be the one telling me this.”

“Did the Senate Council affirm this with you?”

“Yes. I’ve received notifications to a.s.sist the Vist Foundation’s request as much as possible.”

“Then, you have to follow orders. Londo Bell’s a flower without fruit amidst the tired forces in the chaos after the war. Your responsibility should be over once the s.p.a.ce army’s rea.s.sembled. It should be your responsibility as the commander, Captain Bright, to a.s.sign new positions for your subordinates.”

“Oh.”

“If you’re willing to give a.s.sistance, I’ll naturally pay you back. Currently, I’ll use this battleship as a test ship for the UC plan, since the backup machines “Jestas” are gathered here as well….as for what kind of future this will bring upon Londo Bell, I suppose you’ll understand.”

Martha continued to sit comfortably on the reception sofa as she raised her foot triumphantly again. “Do you understand?” Bright showed no emotion on his face as he tossed this question to Meran, who answered, “I don’t.” Once he heard his First Officer’s confident reply, Bright felt a sense of satisfaction as he looked at Martha, whose hands on the armrests tensed up as she showed some hastiness in her eyes.

“…You’re really an old fox. I heard from others that you’re a blockhead who doesn’t understand about the affairs of the world. I suppose those useless subordinates of mine were completely fooled.”

Bright had no intention of denying or admitting this. Martha stared at this tight-lipped man for several seconds before sighing, and said, “Anyway, please listen to our side’s instructions.” before turning away immediately.

“Let me tell you this beforehand, it’s useless to hope for Chairman Ronan’s authority. Things were settled without you knowing, Captain.”

I don’t have to answer you regarding what you don’t know. She conveyed this message silently, frowned, gave a chilling glance, and turned her body, dressed in a violet suit around as she left the Captain’s room. Bright immediately relaxed the strength in his shoulders, and Meran realized the sigh he kept within for a long time.

“Good grief…that devil’s just like how she’s described.”

“But she’s anxious. That “Gundam” pilot has been keeping quiet whenever he was asked about information regarding the “Box”.”

Banagher Links, was it? Bright recalled the face of the boy who was ostensibly the “Gundam” pilot, and released his uniform collar. “What do we do?” Meran asked a meaningful question.

“It seems that her words about Chairman Ronan being controlled aren’t just a bluff. If the news about the Dakar incident and the “Box” are revealed, the Senate Council that had been a.s.sisting the Vist Foundation all this time won’t be able to stand up. The financial world is better than the political world in terms of manipulating the media.”

“If things may end up causing a scandal that involves the entire army, the aides supporting the Senate Council can only shut up…is this what you mean?”

“Yes. The Dakar Incident gave the Foundation an unexpected excuse. It doesn’t seem like that mobile suit, the “Banshee” was calibrated, but they brought it along too.”

He got up from the sofa and switched the monitor panel behind the office table to the external surveillance. At this point, the “Ra Cailum” was docked 20km away offsh.o.r.e from Dakar, and one could still see the trails of dust remaining on the horizon. After two days of confirmation, the number of definite casualties had risen to more than 40,000, and this number continued to increase bit by bit even at this point. The shadows flying about the city were most probably the firefighters and the media. it was said that the relief squads had already deployed helicopters equipped with heat sensors from all over the world, just to find survivors buried under the rubble.

The same situation goes for the inside of the ship, as there was no time to rest. After confirming the casualties, sending in relief aid and doing all sorts of a.s.sistance, everyone realized that two days of work had just pa.s.sed by. However, these seemed to have nothing to do with Martha. It was fine if it was just letting a mobile suit dock with the active squad, but she insisted that the ship was to follow her orders, and Bright gave an absolutely correct answer, saying that “The law never specified that we can move a government’s properly for private purposes”. She came to the Captain’s room to voice her misgivings, leading to the commotion from before. Since Ronan was exercising his authority as the vice-chairman of the Senate, Martha overruled this by using her authority as the Senate chairman, and he ended up being involved in this childish fight over power he inadvertently got involved in. At the rate this situation continued, perhaps one side would probably use the name of the prime minister?

“The Foundation and the Settlement Issues Council is having a tug-of-war with the Senate Council as the stage…what is that “Laplace Box”, for them to go to this extent?”

All the abnormalities started from that point. “I don’t know.” Bright rubbed his eyes and said as he turned to Meran.

“It seemed that the “Nahel Argama” was chasing the “Box” before the job got handed to us, but…”

“We can’t make contact with them? If they can testify against the ploys by the Foundation and the Senate Council, we may be able to turn the wills of those supporting the Council.”

“That’s a little difficult. The “Nahel Argama” is controlled directly by the Senate Council, and they’re banned from contacting their original regiment. If we resist the order, the command of Londo Bell may be moved by the Senate Council. It’s frustrating, but the fact remains that the s.p.a.ce army wants Londo bell dissolved.”

It was just like what Martha pointed out. Londo Bell was a flower without fruit in the organization called the military, fatigued by the internal conflicts after the war—this temporary squad that was built to prevent Neo Zeon from rising again suddenly had a very heavy outsider flair. At this point, when the s.p.a.ce army realignment plan was ready, many aides felt endangered by the ma.s.sive discretionary power Londo Bell was granted. If there was a slight misstep, they would definitely use this chance to raise a large purge. “Besides, it’s not interesting to have the Foundation and the Council fight it out themselves.” Bright continued and sat back on the chair. He clasped his hands and continued to let his thumbs touch as he asked himself, What shall I do?

“…Looks like we can only work on our own?”

The answer was already out. Well, I‘ve been living this kind of life all this while. Bright closed his eyes, let out a soft sigh, “Meran”, and lifted his determined face.

“Contact the Luio Chamber of Commerce. Don’t use the basic wireless in the ship; send a private mail to them.”

“The Luio Chamber of Commerce, as in the company based in New Hong Kong…?”

“That’s considered a top-notch company on earth, but it does deal with all sorts of business behind the scenes. There’s someone we can contact. Send the message to the media relations branch, and mark the recipient as “Hayato Kobayashi of the Audhumla”.”

Meran frowned for a short moment, but answered, “I’ll prepare the doc.u.ment” and stamped his heels together; however, he showed a relieved look on his face because there was a decision made. First, we will have to obtain the correct information, or we won’t be able to think of a plan to escape this ugly political battle. There’s no option of bowing to authority here. Bright, lost in his thoughts, absent-mindedly stepped into a little ditch—and once Meran left the room, he slumped into his chair and put his eyes upon a deceased’s portrait.

“Don’t you dare laugh!”

Commander Amuro Ray’s photo did not say anything as it showed what looked like a wry smile back at him.

There was also an interrogation room in the battleship. The room that was used to interrogate prisoners or crew that broke the military rules was suspiciously similar to a setting in a movie, but there was a presence that indicated that this was not the case. The room that was 3m wide had a table for interrogating and a table for recording. The recording table had a terminal that was used for quick note-taking, and the interrogating table, naturally, had a moveable desk lamp. It was a piece of equipment used to shine upon the face of the suspect. But even after seeing all these things, he could not feel a sense of realism here.

As for this lack of realism, the fact that his hands were cuffed was a weird thing to him to too. He was interrogated by the Federation army and the Neo Zeon army before this, but both sides only prompted him to tell the truth, confirm the situation with him, and never gave him a vibe that they would raise their voices. This was the first time he was being interrogated for real—no, or rather, this was the first time he remained silent for so long. The handcuff chains that were shorter than he imagined rattled. It’s the sound of metal, Banagher Links thought blankly in his mind, and lifted his face that was less swollen. The interrogator’s stoic face could be seen from the other side of the bright desk lamp.

“It’s about time that you obey us now, right?”

The man’s voice showed a dumbfounded flair rather than anger or anxiousness. If this hulking man’s words were to be believed, he was in his forties, and used to be part of an elite squad in the past, the t.i.tans. During the peak of the Zeon purge craze after the war, he used to torture a few suspects to death, and ended up dismissed from the military as a result. After that, this man was employed by the Vist Foundation. Leaving aside whether his words were true or not, his thin lips were showing the cruelty of an officer, and thus, Banagher tried his best to avoid seeing the other man’s face.

“Get into the c.o.c.kpit of the “Unicorn” and bring out the data from the Laplace Program. It’s that simple. Just follow what you’re told to do, and you can get your freedom. We won’t pursue you about getting involved with the military’s top secret stuff or that you once a.s.sisted Neo Zeon. I feel this condition isn’t bad.”

The man sat on the chair with his waist tilted down and used his index finger to tap the finger. Banagher predicted what the other party would do next, and quietly gathered strength in his stomach. As he expected, the man kicked the table aside, “TALK!” and yelled, his voice echoing throughout the cramped room.

“If you think that you won’t be treated too severely just because you’re a kid, you’re in for a grave mistake here. In an adult’s society, we don’t show mercy to anyone we suspect to be an enemy. No matter whether that person is a woman or a child, we will torture thoroughly until the suspect comes clean. You took a military mobile suit on your own, joined the Neo Zeon ranks, and got arrested in flagrante delicto after taking part in the Dakar terrorist incident in the end. There’s no room for mercy here. If we hand you over to the military, you’ll be in jail for the rest of your life.”

Banagher heard the same things the previous day. If one were to link things that way, it was true that they could be explained that way. He, who had no intention of defending himself, turned his face to the man.

“The Neo Zeon cargo ship you rode on has escaped, and now you don’t have any place to return to. We are the only ones who can save you here. It’s too stupid to give up your life just for this kind of thing.”

The man’s voice suddenly became gentle, perhaps because he thought he got what he wanted. This kind of pampering tone really annoys me, and I’m able to be stubborn till this point. Banagher thought carelessly as he ignored the man and looked away from him. At this moment, the man slammed the table hard and yelled,

“WHO ARE YOU KEEPING THIS SECRET FOR!? YOU LITTLE—”

“That’s enough.”

Another voice could be heard, and the man shut up. The man sitting at the recording table got up, and his stout and fat body appeared amidst the light.

“Leave here for a moment. I want to talk with him for a while.”

Alberto Vist’s face was shown from bottom to top, and his body showed an unnerving shadow as he looked down at Alberto. The man clicked his tongue and glared angrily at Banagher for a while before he got up, walked by Alberto, and went pa.s.s the door of the room. The “Ra Cailum” had in practice become a personal ship for the Vist Foundation, so there was no crew member around for the questioning. The interrogation itself was not carried out by an officer, so naturally, there wouldn’t be a timekeeper accompanying. Once the man left, Banagher and Alberto were the only two people left inside. Of course, the men of the Foundation should be keeping their eyes wide as they as they look inside the monitor room through the camera through the camera on the ceiling.

Banagher had a vague feeling that the reason why he felt a bit mindful was because there was a hidden gravity linking him and Alberto. This man had the same father as him—and at this point, this was the only thing he knew of. He toyed with this relationship that seemed so surreal to him in his mouth, and looked back at Alberto’s face right in front of him. Just like their meeting on the “Nahel Argama”, Alberto’s collar was flipped slightly out of his obviously tight collar, and turned his blue eyes at Banagher.

“You’re protecting this secret for Cardeas Vist…your father?”

The back of Alberto’s chair let out a creaking sound before he slowly spoke up. Is that the case? Banagher pondered for a while, but before he could answer, he looked away from the other man.

“You’re really amazing. You have a strong will, you have guts, and even the sense of piloting the “Unicorn” is gifted to you. It seems that the Laplace Program’s data can’t be extracted without your neurowaves. Even if we tie you down to the c.o.c.kpit, n.o.body else can read the data as long as you don’t agree. When did you learn how to operate it like that?”

Banagher himself was not sure. When Alberto barged into the c.o.c.kpit, his first immediate thought was to switch off, and did not react because he understood the system. “Seriously, you’re made too perfectly.” Alberto sighed as he put his elbows on the table.

“You give the look like you don’t understand anything, but you’re always in the center of everything. The situation’s changed according to your will; you’re just like a natural king here, so perfect that it feels disgusting. What was unsealed might not be the Laplace Program, but you.”

These words were unexpected and ominous. Banagher inadvertently looked up, and Alberto seized this opportunity as his fat cheeks sneered.

“Don’t you find it weird? You’re too perfect already. As expected of an enhanced human Cardeas created.”

“Enhanced…human?”

Perhaps you’re the same kind as me.—Marida’s voice, which he heard some time before, suddenly awoke deep within his ears, and he felt gooseb.u.mps all over him. “Am I wrong?” Alberto said as his sneer intensified.

“When you were in the Vist family, I was in a boarding school, so I don’t know how Cardeas raised you, but…you said before that you don’t have any memories of that time, right?”

That was something Banagher let slip from his mouth the previous day. He again turned his silent stare at Alberto.

“Perhaps you feel that you sealed your own memories. But do you feel that an ordinary person can do this? If your talent wasn’t spotted by Cardeas, and if you were trained before you were matured—”

“THAT’S NOT THE CASE!”

He yelled out to shake off the chill, and the sound overpowered the sounds of the air-conditioning and the machine, rumbling the air within the room. Banagher did not look at Alberto’s face as the latter twitched his eyebrows, and instead stared at his hands that were handcuffed.

“Whenever I think about the past…about dad, mom, I’ll feel sad…that’s why I told myself to keep forgetting about them, forget about everything, until I really could not think of anything…that’s all.”

“If you’re able to forget your past just like that, it’s proof that you’re not ordinary. You’re an Cyber-Newtype created by Cardeas.”

“No! You’re wrong! The relationship between parent and child isn’t like that! If that’s the case, aren’t you a human created by Cardeas too?”

Alberto gasped and muttered, “What…” as his face looked sinister. Banagher stared right back at him in the eyes.

“The one entrusting, the one being entrusted…it’s because we’re father and son that we can love or hate, right? I can’t live like we don’t have any relation to each other, si I…”

Banagher swallowed the latter half of his words and he looked down. That’s why I can seal my memories too, and that’s why I can even recognize him as my father in such a short time, and got bounded down by his last words. This isn’t about theory, this isn’t about my own specifications. This troublesome thing called blood relations isn’t something that can be cleared through knowledge alone— “So, what are you trying to say?” Alberto uttered these words and turned his impatient face to the side.

“What parent and son, what blood relations…those are just biological definitions. There are still other things humans have to protect first.”

Alberto got up after saying these words, ostensibly trying to convince himself. This isn’t something he understood from his heart. Banagher instinctively sensed this as he looked at the back of Alberto’s pudgy body.

“What’s the so called “Laplace Box”? It’s an order. The world’s rules can continue to run with the secret beliefs in this “Box”. It’s like a common delusion, an existence that guards people from their selfishness. Once we lose it, the Vist Foundation will not be the only thing that can’t continue. The gears running the world up till now will lose control too. The Dakar incident was one proof of this. If Cardeas never intended on opening the “Box”, that incident would never have happened. After the chaos of the One Year War, we learned the tactics on how to control war.”

The shadow formed by the lamp caused the slightly arched back to look heinous. That’s the back of someone scared of something. This thought flashed through Banagher’s mind as he recognized this.

“After this, the organizations under the name of Zeon will be annihilated entirely, actual aliens will be the only enemies left for the Federation, and the situation won’t change. There is an instinct to fight within humans; as long as society continues to rely on the differences in hierarchy, wars will never disappear from the world. Even if we don’t deliberately scatter these seeds, humans can still find any excuses for war, whether they’re tensions in governments or occasional battles. Gears to drive the economy, a catharsis that can purge the instinct to fight; without these two factors, humans will continue to start full-scale worlds. This is a symptom of ill-management of humanity, and it’s impossible to cure them. We can only think of ways to live with our bad habits.”

If there’s a society where war is regulated, where we believe that terrorism and grudges can be managed, won’t we end up subduing people’s hearts. Won’t we end up creating more people like Mahdi Garvey? Banagher thought subconsciously, but he did not say it out. Alberto again returned to the chair facing him, and his eyes that were looking right at Banagher had a dull glint in them.

“Do you understand? We don’t view war as our food. It’s because of the Foundation and Anaheim controlling war that humans can avo