Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ An Ancient War Renewed ❯ Chapter 5 and 6 ( Chapter 3 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: the Humble Scribe 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Classic | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.03.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 127 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Classic | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.03.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 127 | Status: Completed
5
The sky base, two miles over and fifty miles east of Bah’rain’s western border, hovered ominously over the mountain range that protected the Emirate from the west since time immemorial. Held aloft by a grid of six jet turbines fueled by cyclic quartz, a crystal that spun interminably and with great force if exposed to the least energy, the base cast its shadow over the steppes and impressed the local antelope to trot from their grazing pastures. The base itself, a Gothic citadel rising from the platform, utilized the generated back draft of the cyclic quartz as a shield protecting its artistic, cathedral-like quality walls and buttresses. But this defense served only if the enemy was firing from the outside of the disrupting backlash. The attacker, as the defenders found to their very fear, was on the inside.
Somehow, a true armor had been able to hide in the turbine grid. Now, the armor made itself known in a single shot to the cyclic quartz core of Turbine 1, the turbine at the center left. The quartz, reverberating from the shock of energy, spun out of control and gutted the turbine in a flash of cyclonic blue-white light. The Leos that arrived to the event scrambled to find the shooter before he could wreak further havoc.
The Leos found the shooter, but the discovery was a brutal occurrence. Before a thought could flash to any but the quickest wit, two Leos fell, one by a flash of yellow that gutted the midsection and the other by a violet sword which effortlessly halved it. Only after the corpses slapped upon the ground did blood splatter, shooting through the cauterizations of the energy weapons upon impact. More Leos assaulted from the platform above the turbine, but only seemed to inconvenience the enemy by forcing the responsibility of extinguishing their lives upon him. Even as another Leo was shorn of his head, the armor focused the harquebus upon Turbine 2 and fired. The turbine holding the center right erupted as the first had done, and the explosion ripped through and consumed three unlucky Leos close to the turbine. Now panic whipped the remaining defenders to scramble what counterattack they could; if one more turbine fell, the sky base would be destabilized and hurl itself to the ground. Every crossbow twanged, every bolt flew for the armor, but the armor let go and the hail of bolts crossed and streaked upon the wind drafts. The Leos trained upon the falling armor, hoping that the attacker had just ended himself and the battle.
The battle ended, but not as the defenders hoped. Instead, in a parting shot, the armor pierced Turbine 3 and the end was now obvious. But, perhaps as a unintentional act of final humiliation, the armor opened its massive, stylized wings and streaked past the now falling base. If the defenders were of a different mind, perhaps they would have admired the red-blue-upon-white armor wielding the violet energy sword in its left hand and the harquebus sheathed in the four foot red tower shield upon its right as it held its trajectory upon its beautifully crafted white wings. But they were not, even if they could have focused on that image instead of the ever-expanding steppes and the eternity just beyond that rocky earth.
Amid the finality of the sky base’s collision and explosion, only the armor-bearer could hear himself, “Mission accomplished.”
Three hours after the report of the sky base’s death echoed through the valley as some angel choir’s unintelligible dirge, spies returned with the news to Jinghuan. The council of the People’s Court Republic were rocked by the latest devastating news. Not only had all three Expeditionary Forces fallen with only a handful of survivors, but two excursions by the Westland Alliance were only thwarted by unseen parties seeming to only defend Chai’dou or the Emirate’s western border. Unless these factors had acted, Jinghuan would have faced a sky base and an armada-supported invasion, which its armies could never do before, much less now.
The council met in a central bunker immediately below the Assembly Building. Below the glistening lacquered walls of the Assembly Building, the council met in an dark, musty, dry room with one flickering light upon a stand to provide what little illumination present. The councilors themselves were a tenth of their number, as only five were needed to prosecute the war at this stage. One advisor was present for the High Councilor‘s convenience, but proceeded to be more of his voice than his accoutrement.
“We need to harness these unseen forces. Perhaps Bah’rain will forgive us now that a much greater enemy is present.”
“No good. We know that the Emirate is not in control of its own armies, so we would have to deal with the Emirate’s Defense Force and a single warrior we cannot contact.”
“Yes, but what about Chai’dou?”
A female voice, smooth yet crisp with authority, “A ruse, most likely. If Chai’dou was seriously defying the Alliance, the battle would have been much more bloody and consequential.”
“She is right. Thank you again, Advisor Lady Une.”
A voice from the rear rows, “Perhaps alliances are possible…and necessary.”
She snapped with vicious retort, “How would that be possible? Are you so weak, Councilor, that you wish to put faith in former colonies and a peace-loving, borderline anarchic Emirate?”
“It is not inherently weak to seek allies, but veracity calls us to admit we are weak and exceedingly vulnerable.”
“Veracity is a vice in diplomacy, and a liability in war. Our only option for now is to maintain the appearance of a stable government and a capable army. To suddenly seek peace treaties and alliances at this juncture would only reveal the weakness you fear.”
“Madam, I fear you are mistaken. Our weakness was already made evident three times over. When an army is beaten by a band, or by one person, and the best excuse is incompetence…”
“Exactly! You would hand our fate to others? When you could retrain our masses of soldiers to fight these unrelated, unsupplied guerrillas?”
“We do not have masses of soldiers. We have masses of people not reporting to conscript centers.”
“We can fix that.”
“How?”
“We do have a police force. We do have correction facilities. Full of conscript material.”
“Prisoners? Criminals as soldiers!?”
“Partially. But the brutes would serve better as press gangs, no? Put a bounty on every ‘mark’ they take in, then let the hordes do the work that our police seem unable to do.”
“This seems like a good idea, Councilor Dorliand. What say you against?”
“What about the rights of our citizens?! Subjecting them to this mistreatment is not only morally decrepit…” a snicker from Lady Une, “…but a prod to push our subjects beyond their ability to stand. This will lead to rebellion.”
“That is a risk we must be willing to take, Councilor Dorliand.”
The lead Councilor nodded, “I concur, Lady Une. This Council will decide the matter in one hour by full assembly. Meeting adjourned.”
As the Councilors left, Dorliand veered to one side of the hall and stood at the door to the Main Assembly chamber. He eyed Advisor Lady Une, who locked his gaze and marched to him. The two stood about three feet apart, staring one upon the other in some tacit game of intimidation. She glared as a superior upon a wretch, he returned with the fire of a impassioned statesman. After more than a minute of such tense posturing, she broke the silence.
“Well, Councilor, I fear you may again be overruled.”
“We will see in full assembly, Advisor.”
“How does it feel to be so powerless?”
“Perhaps not as sickening as the feeling of regret you should be feeling.”
“I only advise the lead Council, sir. I do nothing.”
“Seems more like you control the lead Councilor, Lady Une. In that case, you do everything.”
“Hmm. Are you charging me with something? I doubt my advice could be misguided; I do guard against ridiculous statements.”
“Not misguidance, madam Advisor. I feel that you have a different agenda than our own interests.”
“Now you accuse me of treason. Grasping for straws, Councilor Dorliand?”
“I wish I were, Advisor.”
With that, he entered the Main Assembly, leaving her to ponder the charge. “He must be spitting out accusations and bluffing proof,” she thought to herself. “I doubt he has anything to back up that suspicion. It will matter little in a short time, Councilor Dorliand. This house of straw will not survive the storm.”
Chapter 6
The snow covered the dead, as it always has done. The frost congealed the rivulets of blood, as it has always done. But never had the snow blanketed so many, never had so much blood been exposed. The war party that arrived from Krai’kor to fight an army of thousands simply wandered through them, taking the time to gather to enemy’s weapons by the armful. Each man stripped a corpse of its armor, utilizing the steel upon their own hide coats. Some even were able to salvage plates and helmets from Leos, but this was done sparingly as these were designed to be integrated with hydraulic supports due to the weight. Overall, the war party of three hundred sent fifty of their number back with al the weapons they could haul and the rest continued with their orders. The forces marched on, at reduced number, to the next chokepoint in order to establish an ambush site and defend Krai’kor from there first. Whoever the armor was, he did them another service, and the spirits be praised for his presence. He could slaughter the Leos at will, while they could only hope to find a weakness per one by sheer luck. Without the mysterious armor as an ally, Krai’kor would be doomed.
Their ally appeared to the ones marching forward, “The way is clear for now. Our enemy has decided not to engage us for some time.”
“We have been meaning to thank you for that, whatever your name is.”
“I have no name. But I did not rout the entire army.”
“Yes, you…”
“Listen. The Jinghuan army did not rout. It marched in form back to Jinghuan.”
“So? What does it mean, if not that we won?”
“It means we won this battle, but the war may take on a new face. I heard rumors of a Westland sky-base that was destroyed by a fearsome, winged armor.”
“This is a bad thing?”
“It is if Westland plans to pick up where Jinghuan left off. If Jinghuan is taken by force, our worst fears may be realized.”
The desert sands tore over the dunes, burying the bodies nestled upon them. Quatre stood upon a rocky point, looking for the next force that reconnaissance had guaranteed would arrive. Instead of a secondary force, a lone Maganac copy armor approach him from their purported direction.
“Commander, the Jinghuan forces are marching back east. Double time marching, prince.”
“That’s odd. They should not be inspired to retreat. But you said they marched back. In good order?”
“Yes, commander.”
“So, then they received clear orders, I think. But why?”
“You may have scared them, so they refused to march toward us.”
“No. My actions could not produce that kind of response. Jinghuan must have given the order. But are they preparing for an attack?”
“From whom, may I ask, commander?”
“From Westland Alliance.”
“Why…”
“Would that be true? Chai’dou has come under attack recently.”
“But Chai’dou has been attacked repeatedly over the past two months, commander. Why would the latest attack spook the enemy’s high command?”
“Perhaps…they know something we do not.”
Cheng’du was abuzz with rumors after the 3rd Army’s defeat at the hands of a single soldier. They all retreated suddenly, all of them marched back west to Jinghuan with one order. Was the true armor, now nicknamed “Shen Long,” so powerful that it routed the whole force in one charge? What chance was there that the enemy would return if one could defeat so many?
The Jade Palace, however, buzzed with talk peppered with more privileged information. The inner court already knew from its own reconnaissance why the Jinghuan army left their push to Cheng’du. It was not due to the influence of Wu Fei’s assault, although that probably caused the initial halt. It seemed that Jinghuan issued a general order to return to the home defense. This was not taken as good news by Wu Fei himself, who had returned the day before. He relayed his advice to the Emperor Wu San, his distant relative, while prostrated before him
“Emperor of Heaven, son of the Creator Goddess, your subject offers advice.”
“Yes, Chief Advisor. What of the recent events? The Emperor seeks your counsel.”
“I fear that Jinghuan’s retreat does not bode well for Cheng’du.”
“Explain.”
“Jing huan did not retreat to admit defeat. The retreat was ordered to prepare defenses.”
“This did not occur to the other advisors.”
“Perhaps not, Emperor. But I feel that a stronger enemy may replace Jinghuan. The Westland Alliance has made troubling movements toward that end.”
“Oh? Why should that trouble Cheng’du?”
“Such a militant attempt at conquest, if rewarded, will produce further attempts. Cheng’du’s riches are greater than Jinghuan’s. The logical target for the Alliance would be Cheng’du.”
“Your counsel is good. Advisor, you are dismissed.”
“Your will be done, Emperor of Heaven.”
Director Maxwell bristled after the incident with Zechs Marquis. Chai’dou must now prepare for certain assault from the former parent nation, the Westland Alliance. If that occurs, he knew he could look forward to Pisces, Cancers, Leo Marines, some new armor known as the “Aries,” and Zech’s armor. This, along with a whole new complement of men-o-war and landing craft, could overwhelm Chai’dou’s defenses. The shipwrights worked with zeal while the volunteers poured in, but this would not be enough.
To add to his otherwise insurmountable problems, Director Maxwell received a message from a panicked delivery boy. “Jinghuan moves south, and in number,” was all the message read. That was all it needed to say, and Duo stamped his foot in defiance, “Let’em know we’re waiting for them, then!” and sent the boy back into the city to warn the local barracks. He now fell into deep panic, but belied none of it to anyone. How would Chai’dou handle this kind of two-prong attack?
“We’ll give them hell, that’s all I know.”
The sky base, two miles over and fifty miles east of Bah’rain’s western border, hovered ominously over the mountain range that protected the Emirate from the west since time immemorial. Held aloft by a grid of six jet turbines fueled by cyclic quartz, a crystal that spun interminably and with great force if exposed to the least energy, the base cast its shadow over the steppes and impressed the local antelope to trot from their grazing pastures. The base itself, a Gothic citadel rising from the platform, utilized the generated back draft of the cyclic quartz as a shield protecting its artistic, cathedral-like quality walls and buttresses. But this defense served only if the enemy was firing from the outside of the disrupting backlash. The attacker, as the defenders found to their very fear, was on the inside.
Somehow, a true armor had been able to hide in the turbine grid. Now, the armor made itself known in a single shot to the cyclic quartz core of Turbine 1, the turbine at the center left. The quartz, reverberating from the shock of energy, spun out of control and gutted the turbine in a flash of cyclonic blue-white light. The Leos that arrived to the event scrambled to find the shooter before he could wreak further havoc.
The Leos found the shooter, but the discovery was a brutal occurrence. Before a thought could flash to any but the quickest wit, two Leos fell, one by a flash of yellow that gutted the midsection and the other by a violet sword which effortlessly halved it. Only after the corpses slapped upon the ground did blood splatter, shooting through the cauterizations of the energy weapons upon impact. More Leos assaulted from the platform above the turbine, but only seemed to inconvenience the enemy by forcing the responsibility of extinguishing their lives upon him. Even as another Leo was shorn of his head, the armor focused the harquebus upon Turbine 2 and fired. The turbine holding the center right erupted as the first had done, and the explosion ripped through and consumed three unlucky Leos close to the turbine. Now panic whipped the remaining defenders to scramble what counterattack they could; if one more turbine fell, the sky base would be destabilized and hurl itself to the ground. Every crossbow twanged, every bolt flew for the armor, but the armor let go and the hail of bolts crossed and streaked upon the wind drafts. The Leos trained upon the falling armor, hoping that the attacker had just ended himself and the battle.
The battle ended, but not as the defenders hoped. Instead, in a parting shot, the armor pierced Turbine 3 and the end was now obvious. But, perhaps as a unintentional act of final humiliation, the armor opened its massive, stylized wings and streaked past the now falling base. If the defenders were of a different mind, perhaps they would have admired the red-blue-upon-white armor wielding the violet energy sword in its left hand and the harquebus sheathed in the four foot red tower shield upon its right as it held its trajectory upon its beautifully crafted white wings. But they were not, even if they could have focused on that image instead of the ever-expanding steppes and the eternity just beyond that rocky earth.
Amid the finality of the sky base’s collision and explosion, only the armor-bearer could hear himself, “Mission accomplished.”
Three hours after the report of the sky base’s death echoed through the valley as some angel choir’s unintelligible dirge, spies returned with the news to Jinghuan. The council of the People’s Court Republic were rocked by the latest devastating news. Not only had all three Expeditionary Forces fallen with only a handful of survivors, but two excursions by the Westland Alliance were only thwarted by unseen parties seeming to only defend Chai’dou or the Emirate’s western border. Unless these factors had acted, Jinghuan would have faced a sky base and an armada-supported invasion, which its armies could never do before, much less now.
The council met in a central bunker immediately below the Assembly Building. Below the glistening lacquered walls of the Assembly Building, the council met in an dark, musty, dry room with one flickering light upon a stand to provide what little illumination present. The councilors themselves were a tenth of their number, as only five were needed to prosecute the war at this stage. One advisor was present for the High Councilor‘s convenience, but proceeded to be more of his voice than his accoutrement.
“We need to harness these unseen forces. Perhaps Bah’rain will forgive us now that a much greater enemy is present.”
“No good. We know that the Emirate is not in control of its own armies, so we would have to deal with the Emirate’s Defense Force and a single warrior we cannot contact.”
“Yes, but what about Chai’dou?”
A female voice, smooth yet crisp with authority, “A ruse, most likely. If Chai’dou was seriously defying the Alliance, the battle would have been much more bloody and consequential.”
“She is right. Thank you again, Advisor Lady Une.”
A voice from the rear rows, “Perhaps alliances are possible…and necessary.”
She snapped with vicious retort, “How would that be possible? Are you so weak, Councilor, that you wish to put faith in former colonies and a peace-loving, borderline anarchic Emirate?”
“It is not inherently weak to seek allies, but veracity calls us to admit we are weak and exceedingly vulnerable.”
“Veracity is a vice in diplomacy, and a liability in war. Our only option for now is to maintain the appearance of a stable government and a capable army. To suddenly seek peace treaties and alliances at this juncture would only reveal the weakness you fear.”
“Madam, I fear you are mistaken. Our weakness was already made evident three times over. When an army is beaten by a band, or by one person, and the best excuse is incompetence…”
“Exactly! You would hand our fate to others? When you could retrain our masses of soldiers to fight these unrelated, unsupplied guerrillas?”
“We do not have masses of soldiers. We have masses of people not reporting to conscript centers.”
“We can fix that.”
“How?”
“We do have a police force. We do have correction facilities. Full of conscript material.”
“Prisoners? Criminals as soldiers!?”
“Partially. But the brutes would serve better as press gangs, no? Put a bounty on every ‘mark’ they take in, then let the hordes do the work that our police seem unable to do.”
“This seems like a good idea, Councilor Dorliand. What say you against?”
“What about the rights of our citizens?! Subjecting them to this mistreatment is not only morally decrepit…” a snicker from Lady Une, “…but a prod to push our subjects beyond their ability to stand. This will lead to rebellion.”
“That is a risk we must be willing to take, Councilor Dorliand.”
The lead Councilor nodded, “I concur, Lady Une. This Council will decide the matter in one hour by full assembly. Meeting adjourned.”
As the Councilors left, Dorliand veered to one side of the hall and stood at the door to the Main Assembly chamber. He eyed Advisor Lady Une, who locked his gaze and marched to him. The two stood about three feet apart, staring one upon the other in some tacit game of intimidation. She glared as a superior upon a wretch, he returned with the fire of a impassioned statesman. After more than a minute of such tense posturing, she broke the silence.
“Well, Councilor, I fear you may again be overruled.”
“We will see in full assembly, Advisor.”
“How does it feel to be so powerless?”
“Perhaps not as sickening as the feeling of regret you should be feeling.”
“I only advise the lead Council, sir. I do nothing.”
“Seems more like you control the lead Councilor, Lady Une. In that case, you do everything.”
“Hmm. Are you charging me with something? I doubt my advice could be misguided; I do guard against ridiculous statements.”
“Not misguidance, madam Advisor. I feel that you have a different agenda than our own interests.”
“Now you accuse me of treason. Grasping for straws, Councilor Dorliand?”
“I wish I were, Advisor.”
With that, he entered the Main Assembly, leaving her to ponder the charge. “He must be spitting out accusations and bluffing proof,” she thought to herself. “I doubt he has anything to back up that suspicion. It will matter little in a short time, Councilor Dorliand. This house of straw will not survive the storm.”
Chapter 6
The snow covered the dead, as it always has done. The frost congealed the rivulets of blood, as it has always done. But never had the snow blanketed so many, never had so much blood been exposed. The war party that arrived from Krai’kor to fight an army of thousands simply wandered through them, taking the time to gather to enemy’s weapons by the armful. Each man stripped a corpse of its armor, utilizing the steel upon their own hide coats. Some even were able to salvage plates and helmets from Leos, but this was done sparingly as these were designed to be integrated with hydraulic supports due to the weight. Overall, the war party of three hundred sent fifty of their number back with al the weapons they could haul and the rest continued with their orders. The forces marched on, at reduced number, to the next chokepoint in order to establish an ambush site and defend Krai’kor from there first. Whoever the armor was, he did them another service, and the spirits be praised for his presence. He could slaughter the Leos at will, while they could only hope to find a weakness per one by sheer luck. Without the mysterious armor as an ally, Krai’kor would be doomed.
Their ally appeared to the ones marching forward, “The way is clear for now. Our enemy has decided not to engage us for some time.”
“We have been meaning to thank you for that, whatever your name is.”
“I have no name. But I did not rout the entire army.”
“Yes, you…”
“Listen. The Jinghuan army did not rout. It marched in form back to Jinghuan.”
“So? What does it mean, if not that we won?”
“It means we won this battle, but the war may take on a new face. I heard rumors of a Westland sky-base that was destroyed by a fearsome, winged armor.”
“This is a bad thing?”
“It is if Westland plans to pick up where Jinghuan left off. If Jinghuan is taken by force, our worst fears may be realized.”
The desert sands tore over the dunes, burying the bodies nestled upon them. Quatre stood upon a rocky point, looking for the next force that reconnaissance had guaranteed would arrive. Instead of a secondary force, a lone Maganac copy armor approach him from their purported direction.
“Commander, the Jinghuan forces are marching back east. Double time marching, prince.”
“That’s odd. They should not be inspired to retreat. But you said they marched back. In good order?”
“Yes, commander.”
“So, then they received clear orders, I think. But why?”
“You may have scared them, so they refused to march toward us.”
“No. My actions could not produce that kind of response. Jinghuan must have given the order. But are they preparing for an attack?”
“From whom, may I ask, commander?”
“From Westland Alliance.”
“Why…”
“Would that be true? Chai’dou has come under attack recently.”
“But Chai’dou has been attacked repeatedly over the past two months, commander. Why would the latest attack spook the enemy’s high command?”
“Perhaps…they know something we do not.”
Cheng’du was abuzz with rumors after the 3rd Army’s defeat at the hands of a single soldier. They all retreated suddenly, all of them marched back west to Jinghuan with one order. Was the true armor, now nicknamed “Shen Long,” so powerful that it routed the whole force in one charge? What chance was there that the enemy would return if one could defeat so many?
The Jade Palace, however, buzzed with talk peppered with more privileged information. The inner court already knew from its own reconnaissance why the Jinghuan army left their push to Cheng’du. It was not due to the influence of Wu Fei’s assault, although that probably caused the initial halt. It seemed that Jinghuan issued a general order to return to the home defense. This was not taken as good news by Wu Fei himself, who had returned the day before. He relayed his advice to the Emperor Wu San, his distant relative, while prostrated before him
“Emperor of Heaven, son of the Creator Goddess, your subject offers advice.”
“Yes, Chief Advisor. What of the recent events? The Emperor seeks your counsel.”
“I fear that Jinghuan’s retreat does not bode well for Cheng’du.”
“Explain.”
“Jing huan did not retreat to admit defeat. The retreat was ordered to prepare defenses.”
“This did not occur to the other advisors.”
“Perhaps not, Emperor. But I feel that a stronger enemy may replace Jinghuan. The Westland Alliance has made troubling movements toward that end.”
“Oh? Why should that trouble Cheng’du?”
“Such a militant attempt at conquest, if rewarded, will produce further attempts. Cheng’du’s riches are greater than Jinghuan’s. The logical target for the Alliance would be Cheng’du.”
“Your counsel is good. Advisor, you are dismissed.”
“Your will be done, Emperor of Heaven.”
Director Maxwell bristled after the incident with Zechs Marquis. Chai’dou must now prepare for certain assault from the former parent nation, the Westland Alliance. If that occurs, he knew he could look forward to Pisces, Cancers, Leo Marines, some new armor known as the “Aries,” and Zech’s armor. This, along with a whole new complement of men-o-war and landing craft, could overwhelm Chai’dou’s defenses. The shipwrights worked with zeal while the volunteers poured in, but this would not be enough.
To add to his otherwise insurmountable problems, Director Maxwell received a message from a panicked delivery boy. “Jinghuan moves south, and in number,” was all the message read. That was all it needed to say, and Duo stamped his foot in defiance, “Let’em know we’re waiting for them, then!” and sent the boy back into the city to warn the local barracks. He now fell into deep panic, but belied none of it to anyone. How would Chai’dou handle this kind of two-prong attack?
“We’ll give them hell, that’s all I know.”