Zeta Gundam Fan Fiction ❯ Harbinger of Darkness ❯ Weapons Inspectors ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: I make no pretense as to lay claim to any of the various and sundry Japanese Anime Programmes referenced to in the following work of fiction. Any similarities between extant characters or places is purely intentional. I do not own Zeta Gundam, Mobile Suit Gundam, The 08th MS Team, BGCT2040, RahXephon, Neon Genesis Evangelion, or any of the other masterpieces referenced herein. Thank Ye!

A/N So I finally got to see the first few eps. Of Zeta Gundam. Two words: Holy Crap. I was worried it was gonna be a crappy job of dubbing over woefully obsolete animation, but I gotta hand it to the folks at Bandai: they did their shit right. Its out on box set but hella expensive. Grab it if you like and lemme know if I'm messing stuff up here. But anyway…

Alex Kincaid lay awake in his bed, listening to Rachel snoring serenely next to him. It was foolish for him to be up so late, and he knew it, but no matter how hard he tried, his racing mind would not let sleep come to him.

`Have I made the right choice?' he asked himself.

Of course he loved Rachel; the existence of little Nikki in the next room over confirmed that. But even now, all these years later, he wondered how his life would have been different had he decided to be with Michelle Bannock instead.

Michelle was-at least had been at the time he had known her-a charming young woman, whose only flaw was loving too deeply. That reckless desire, that heedless passion had driven her to the very precipice of sanity. She had tried to have him, but unable to control her emotions after being denied, put his and the other three members of the 107th space GM's lives in jeopardy. It had only been by the grace of God that all four of them had not died in the void which enveloped the fortress A Baoa Qu.

Yet she had made a choice that many in her same situation would have made also: it was a crime of passion.

But, what the hell. Michelle Bannock was no longer a part of his life. He was happy where he was and no one could make him feel otherwise.

The thoughts melted away as sleep consumed him.

The next thing he knew, Rachel was nudging him in attempt to rouse him. "Alex! Come on, it's time to get up!"

"Mmfph," he grunted and turned away.

"Get up!" She cried. "You've got to get breakfast before eight if you want to make your patrol."

At last he got up. Moving in slow motion, he dressed in his uniform and ambled into the kitchen. "Coffee," he muttered, and the machine on the counter started perking.

"Mowning daddy," Nikki seemed happy to see him. Her sitter would be arriving shortly but she was already anxious to begin her day.

"I've got to go, hon," Rachel said, putting a bowl of cereal in front of her highchair. "Business at the coffee shop is at its height this hour. Sami will be here soon; stay with Nikki until she gets here, `kay?"

After taking a sip of his own coffee, and beginning to feel more awake, Alex nodded. "Sure. I just need to be down at the base by eight-thirty."

However, Sami was, of course, late in getting to their house. "Sorry Mr. Kincaid," she apologised, but the damage was already done. He got on the street at nine o'clock.

"Ya fuckin' Feds think you can do whatever you please here, huh? Go back to Earth ya slimy sonofabitch!"

"Cock sucker!"

"Zeon will rise again, bi-yatch!"

The insults came down like rain as he walked-jogged to the elevator to the colony shaft. There were just so many of them, and that last one…would the Zeeks try anything? Especially in the months following the 30 Bunch Incident, the natives had been growing particularly restless. Was it this bad throughout all of Side 3?

"What's up L.T.?" Dante Fiore asked when Alex came into the hangar. "A little late this morning, eh? Must be good to be an officer." The two of them had been playing cards while they were waiting.

"Sorry, guys. I got a bit of a slow start this morning, and then the sitter was late…"

"Oh, you've got little Nikki staying with a sitter?" Johanna asked. He had shown them pictures, and Johanna had been smitten by how cute his daughter was.

"Yeah. Between Rachel's job at the coffee shop, and me being here, somebody has to keep an eye on her. Let's suit up."

"Ah, the famous Rachel Sawyer. You are too lucky L.T." Dante swooned. He had seen the pictures too, but he had been smitten by how attractive his wife was.

Alex gave him the Evil Eye, and he shut up.

…At least for a few minutes. As they were walking over to their MS, Dante posed a more serious question. "Yo, L.T., you did do a thorough background on your sitter, right? Gotta be careful, I mean, this is their capital."

"Oh, yeah," Alex responded, taking a seat in the Hi-Zack's cockpit. He was slightly insulted that his subordinate didn't trust him to do at least that much. "Sami's father is a vet, and her mom is in administration of the Titans branch office in the Embassy."

"Damn," he whistled in response. "Well, I guess she checks out then."

"I should assume so," he replied, caustically. Over the radio to the "tower", he said, "222nd weapons inspection brigade, launching on catapult 4!"

The response was thick with static-SOP dictated a Minovsky particle broadcast before all launches-but audible, "Ah, roger that 222nd, you are cleared on catapult 4. Godspeed, and kick some Zeon ass!"

Alex put a disgusted hand over his face, and shook his head. Zealots like this were the reason the Zeeks were so restless in the first place. "222nd, launch!"

Three staggered trails of thrusters fire spat forth as the Hi-Zacks were thrown into the void. Alex, at point, directed them to their scheduled recon point for the day.

"What's up today, L.T.?" Johanna asked.

"We are to work in tandem with the 476th and 834th squads to inspect a fleet of old Musai cruisers and their mobile suit armament," Alex recited what he had memorised of the officers briefing the night before. "Anything of a later make than a Rick Dom is to be noted and tagged for destruction. Basically, that means all Gelgoogs, Dra-Cs, Gyans…you get the idea. This is an old fleet that just came out of hiding after the '83 uprisings, so they are to be forgiven and offered sanctuary in the Capital."

"Finally, a real mission!" she smiled on the radio monitor.

"That's right," he said sharply, "and be sure you treat it as such. These are ultranationalists and may still not be accepting of the new status quo. Handle the situation with care."

Dante snorted. "Right, right. `Don't go nuts and start blowing shit up'. We've heard that speech a million times before, L.T. We're not that green."

"Just so," Alex maintained his cautionary tone. "If we provoke them, we could have an international incident on our hands."

Radio silence reigned as the three units continued to the inspection point. In spite of the silence around him, Alex's mind raced. This was the real deal, a rendezvous with potential hostiles. He was nervous as hell even though he knew full and well that the next-gen Hi-Zacks could take anything these Zeek holdouts could throw at them. That, and the 222nd was going to have support this time around.

Still, he couldn't afford to be reckless, not with Rachel and Nicole waiting for him back home. They were his happiness just as much as he was theirs; to lose him would break their hearts.

Moments later they arrived at the location and Alex began haling the lead Musai. `Got to handle this delicately…'

"Attention Rommel Fleet, this is the 222nd Weapons Inspection Brigade, will you accept the hale?"

A gruff voice returned, "This is Captain Ernst von Schaeffer of the Rommel Fleet. We hear you, Weapons inspectors but do not appreciate this infringment upon our rights. We are in our own Republic; how presumptuous of you to demand to make inspections like this."

"How you take it isn't my problem, Captain, but do remember who won the war." That might have taken things a bit too far, but Alex wasn't in the mood for Zeon arrogance.

Von Schaeffer went on as if he hadn't spoken. "It's not enough that you desecrate our capital with your presence there, or that you force the title of Republic on us, but know you wish to impose weapons restrictions upon us too. On of these days, you Feddies will have to pay for your abuse of power."

"Damn Zeeks," Dante said over the private line. "Fuckers lost a war and a half to us and they still talk like they're something big." Like most of the soldiers in the Federation, he refused to acknowledge the Delaz Fleet attack as a true war, even though the casualties had been staggering on both sides.

Alex had a job to do, and could not afford too much attention to his subordinate's stabs at Zeonic ego trips. "Captain, as you are undoubtedly aware, I had nothing to do with imposing these stipulations. It is only my job to see that they are carried out. Please, allow us to do our jobs in a way that would result in no loss of life."

With the air of someone granting a great concession, von Schaeffer said, "very well then. I shall forward the ship's manifest to the colony central command."

"Not good enough, Captain," Alex said tightly. "We are weapons inspectors; it is our job to inspect your ships' holds personally."

"I said I will forward them to the colony central command, and I intend to do so." The Zeonic Captain's voice had been harsh and gruff before, but now it sounded downright dangerous, "or do you presume even to question my integrity as a soldier?"

Alex brought the Hi-Zack's gun to bear on the bridge of the vanguard ship. "You will open your hatches and allow us to inspect the contents, or you will face the consequences. Believe me Captain, I don't want it to come to that, but if you do not comply with the established treaty, you bring this upon yourself."

"I will not be spoken to thusly, Federation Schweinhund! You want a chance to inspect the suits of this fleet? Fine!" he broke off the connection.

"Well that went well," Johanna shrugged sardonically.

"The situation has gone critical," Alex stated the obvious to all of the Federation suits in the area. "Prepare for suit based combat!"

Even as he spoke, that hatches of the nearest Musai slid open and streaks of light emanating from mobile suit thrusters shot forth like starbursts. Alex opened fire on the vanguard's bridge, but shots could only graze the superstructure before he was tackled from behind by an MS-14 Gelgoog.

`Bastard!' he thought. `They were carrying illegal suits anyway!'

"I'll help you out L.T.!" Johanna shouted as she started after the Zeek, beam sabre in hand.

Alex managed to shift enough in the enemy's grip to free his arms. With tricky aiming and control that would have been impossible in a GM, he aimed his rifle and shot directly through the older suit's head. The explosion loosened the Gelgoog's grip.

Johanna managed to slice through the blinded Zeek with ease. However, she did not notice another bearing down on her from behind.

"Johanna!" Alex cried and fired at the enemy as it closed on her. Curiously, she also opened fire at a point just behind him. It wasn't until he saw the flaming wreckage of a Dra-C wiz past him that he realised that there had been an enemy on his six also.

"Thanks," he said.

"No pro-Dante! Enemy on you, five o'clock high!"

Dante had been trying to get closer to the cruiser itself while still staying in range of his comrades. He too had provided covering fire for Johanna to help take out the suit that had been closing on her. After turning his back for a split second, a Rick Dom had shouldered its bazooka and was preparing to take a shot at him.

The Rick Dom's cannon spat flames and a rocket leapt forth. Dante was barely able to dodge, but controlled thrusting and the Hi-Zack's superior manoeuvrability allowed him to come around behind it and unleash a torrent of shells. The Dom danced wildly as the armour-piercing shells slammed into it. Seconds later it exploded into a spectacular fireball.

"Ride or Die, Bi-yatch!" Dante whooped.

Alex swung his focus towards the looming cruisers. The mega-particle emplacements at the top were slowly rotating to bring the Federation suits to bear. He had to disable them before those blazing saffron particle beams could begin cutting his comrades down. Like all veterans, he knew how deadly m-p weaponry was.

"Fiore! Sparks! Formation Blue Sigma, now! We've got to take out that cruiser!"

"Roger, sir!" the two chorused, and quickly fell in behind him.

AA fire erupted from smaller turrets on the Musai's main deck, and the 222nd had to split formation to dodge. They continued at full speed doing their best to avoid the fire, and grew rapidly closer to their target.

"Fuck!" Johanna swore. A round from one of the emplacements had slammed home on the her suit's left arm, ripping the limb free. The force of the impact sent her suit spiralling and directly into a stream of AA tracers. Bullets riddled her suit, but the armour held.

Alex watched in horror nonetheless. "Sparks!"

How many people had he seen go out in that same fashion? A simple accident, and then…

"I'm okay, L.T.!" he let out a long sigh of relief . "Give me a few seconds and I-oh shit, they've got a bearing on me." More AA fire opened up on her unit and several predatory MS swooped in.

Alex looked dismayed. They were only about a hundred metres from the deck of the cruiser, but they could not simply leave a team-mate. "Fiore, break of the attack," he said into the radio. "We've got to help Johanna."

"Roger, that L.T."

"I'm fine!" she snarled, her weapon spraying death at one of the closing Zakus. It exploded into a huge fireball.

"Damage report on unit 3, 222nd," Alex asked his computer as he began to fire his own machine gun.

The image of Johanna's Hi-Zack appeared on the small screen mounted on the arm of his linear seat. It wasn't as badly beat up as it appeared to his eyes. The armour of these new suits was far superior to anything he was used to so it seemed he had only been overreacting.

`Still…'

Suddenly, off to his right, one of the Musais exploded sending out violent shockwaves and several tons of debris in all directions. Apparently, one of the other units must've sank it.

Dante clarified with a report: "the 834th claims they've sunk the furthest cruiser, sir. The 476th seems to be having as much trouble as we are; they've lost one unit and another has taken a beating."

"Bloody hell," Alex swore under his breath, as he cleaved a Gelgoog in half with his beam sabre. "The 834th is going to provide assistance to them, right?"

"They say they've run into stiff MS resistance from..." He had to pause to fend off an attack directed at him. "My God!" he said in shock when he had crippled the enemy unit.

"What?" Alex asked.

"A mother fucking Zanzibar!" shock was still evident in his subordinate's voice.

"That explains where all these suits are coming from," Johanna observed, flatly. "But didn't you said there were only three Musais, L.T.?"

Alex ground his teeth. "That's what they told me. Minovsky Particles must've rendered it undetectable until now."

The Musais had probably focused their broadcasts of the particles on the one point where the Zanzibar had been and rendered it effectively invisible. This effect was compounded by the warship's black superstructure.

"Sparks?" he asked.

"I'm good, L.T., really," she reassured him. "They just got my shield arm; I can still fight."

Alex bit his lower lip in thought. "Fiore, get on the horn with the base and tell them that we're going to need backup here. I'll cover Johanna."

"Sir!" they both said.

The com line suddenly thundered with cheers and Alex looked up just in time to see another Musai blossom into a fiery rose at the hands of one of the other squads. The members of the 834th had scratched another ship, but before their shouts had fully died away, one of their seawater grey Hi-Zacks was surrounded and ventilated by a trio of Zakus. The shouts then turned from exultation to bitter challenges and curses.

Alex knew he had no time to worry too much about the other squad-at least not when his own was could possibly suffer the same fate. Giving formation orders to Dante and Johanna, he made ready to launch an attack on the nearest ship, but his plans were rudely cut short by a rampaging Dra-C. The speedy little craft tore through their ranks, colliding with his Hi-Zack. He struggled frantically to get it off, but the Zeon drew his beam sabre and thrust it into the upper regions of his suit's torso region.

A burst of electricity sent bluish sparks dancing across his control panel and surely would have shocked him had it not been for the insulation his normal suit provided.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" he cried, but forced himself to regain at least enough control to put a foot firmly in the Zeek's midsection and boot it away. He and his subordinates then began unloading on the hapless suit and it exploded almost instantly.

Alex stared into the fading light breathing heavily. "J-Jesus," he said again. Images of Nicole and Rachel spiralled through his mind, both in mourning black.

He felt as though he had looked under the hood of the Grim Reaper.

"L.T.!" Dante's voice brought him back to reality. "I got word from the base. They say that they're going to scramble some GMs and Nemo units. We just gotta hold them off a bit longer!"

`Can we?' Alex thought, the cold feeling refusing to leave him. `This is just so different from the War…I…'

"Roger that," he said aloud.

A sudden raping at the open door of her office caused Michelle Bannock to look up sharply. "Good afternoon, Sayoko," she said, forcing a smile.

"Hi Shelly," she said brightly, stepping into the office and taking a seat across the desk from her. "What're you doing this weekend?"

Michelle gave an exasperated sigh. "Paperwork. I might go over to Aberdeen to do some shopping, but nothing big."

Sayoko tsked. "You really need to lighten up, dear. When was the last time you went to The Peak? Or to any of the parks on Lantau? Hell, when most people say, `shopping,' they mean going to the mall, but you just mean going to the market."

"Some people don't have the luxury of going out as often as you do, Sayoko," she said dryly.

"How cruel! I do my share around here and at my other job. It's just that I work efficiently and don't spend two out of every five minutes moping."

Michelle glared venomously at her.

"Or perhaps I said too much…"

"Was there some reason you came by, Sayoko?" Michelle made an act of shuffling the papers on her desk.

Her co-worker got the hint. "Sorry, Shelly. I just wanted to ask if you'd care to go to the soccer game with me this weekend. I know our home team sucks, but hell, the least we can do is support the Dragons, you know? They're playing the team from Lagos, and they're like the number one team in the League right now. We'll get crushed, but I just want to see how well the Skyhawks play; see if how they'd stack up against my beloved Buenos Aires Rapiers!"

Whenever she spoke about soccer, Sayoko was given to vehement acts of gesticulation. Michelle watched her with a cocked brow; it always intrigued her how people could get so caught up in sports, though she herself had never found the time to really get into the spirit. "I don't know, Sayoko," she said, dubiously, "you know I don't really like sports."

"Oh come on, it'll do you a world of good, I promise!"

"But I don't even know the rules of the game…"

"Now you're just rationalising. Say you will, please? I already bought the tickets and they were two for one, and since…well, you know I'm still single. I'd rather go with a friend than alone and have to scalp the ticket (not that anyone would buy it anyway; most days, the stadium is filled with more supporters for the other team than the Dragons). Please?"

"Why don't you ask that guy from last weekend you told me about?" Michelle said, concealing her envy of her friend's ability to effortlessly flit from one man to another, "I thought you were on the rebound from the last one?"

"That guy? He was nice when I met him, but turned out to be a total prick when we went out. I hate guys like that." She stood to leave. "Mark your calendar, Shelly. I'll be by your house at two on Saturday to pick you up."

"Fine." She said, throwing up her hands in disgust. "I'll just have to work extra hard over the course of the next few days to try and be ready." It was meant as a jab, but Sayoko only smiled and walked out of the office.

Four days later found the two women in the mostly empty stands of Admiralty Stadium cheering with the rest of the crowd as the Dragons made their second goal of the night. The game was going much better than Sayoko had imagined; either the Skyhawks were having a remarkably off day, or this might be the start of a major Dragons late-season rally.

"Keep an eye on my seat, Shells," she said as she stood from the uncomfortable plastic chair, "I'm going to get some nachos. You want anything?"

Michelle had looked perplexed throughout the entire first half, but cheered whenever Sayoko did so as not to look out of place. Now she shook her head and said something, but her voice was lost in the momentary swell of voices as the Dragons Striker made a spectacular slide tackle to allow one of his teammates to steal the ball.

Sayoko shrugged, and walked into the bowels of the stadium to the vending stand.

After putting in her change and ordering a beer and box of nachos, she stood by and waited as the machine began assembling her order.

"God, how do you maintain your figure eating slop like that?" a voice asked from behind as she bent to pull the box and can from the machine.

"Excuse me?" she asked, hotly as she whirled around…

…to face the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. Tall, blonde, and broad-shouldered, he carried himself with an almost military posture, though he exuded a warm aura.

He noticed her slack-jawed stare and laughed. "Sorry about that, I couldn't resist. No offense taken?" His smile was so disarming that whatever pithy comeback had been waiting to tear free from her throat shrivelled and died there. "Name's Radium LaVans, but everybody just calls me Ray. What's yours?"

Her powers of speech chose that opportune moment to decide to return. "Sa-Sayoko Nanamori."

"A pleasure, Ms. Nanamori. I just recently got transferred down here, but I heard that most Hong Kongers were generally an affable lot. I guess the rumours are right: an American woman certainly would have tried to do some facial reconstruction to me after a remark like that."

"You transferred? You're with the army?" she asked the obvious.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm on leave this weekend so I thought I'd just go and check out the sights. I'm starting a new assignment Monday, off the base, and I figured it might be good to see a little of the city."

"Where will you be working now?"

LaVans paused, considering. "A clinic not far off-shore," he said at last.

"Murasame Labs?" Sayoko ventured.

"How do you kn-"his blue eyes widened with comprehension. "You work there too?"

She smiled sheepishly and nodded. "I'm a registered shrink. I-eh-heh-I guess you can see why they would need someone like me there."

Another roar sounded outside, calling both of their attentions to the bright corridor that led out to the game.

Sayoko faltered, but said, "Well, ah, Ray-"she waited for him to smile and nod before continuing-"I suppose I'll see you on Monday, then?"

"I look forward to it!"

She waved then ran back out the ramp to her seat. Michelle asked her about why she was flushed, but she replied shakily, "must be the beer."

Asuka Soryu nuzzled deeply into the hollow of Trowa Barton's shoulder. "Asuka," he whispered. "Asuka, I've got to get up."

"Mmmph," she mumbled. "No you don't."

"I've got to get to the base."

"Shut up. It's cold as hell out there, and I need you here to keep me warm."

"We're in Hawaii, babe. It's seventy degrees outside."

"I don't care."

He wiggled away from her, his legs tangling among the covers, but he managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed. She was persistent, though, and glomped onto his bare waist.

"Cut that out!" he laughed. "The general is gonna rip me a new one if I'm late again."

"Fine," she pouted. "Go on to work, you bum."

He stood and dressed quickly in his Titans uniform. She rolled out of the other side of their queen-sized and pulled on her silk kimono, following him into the kitchen, where they both sat for coffee and scrambled eggs, which he fixed in a hurry.

"Mmm. You're getting to be a pretty good cook," she said with a smile. "I've trained you well."

"I aim to please," he returned, deadpan. "Not like it's difficult to fix eggs."

"You say that now, but you always used to burn `em, or leave bits of the shell in `em, or-"

He silenced her with a pre-emptive kiss. "I'm leaving," he said as he walked towards the door. "Good luck with the hunt today!"

She was still searching for employment, after leaving her first job as a private masseuse. He'd been uncomfortable with that job, but hadn't complained, and in the end, it was she herself who decided to look for another vocation. She said it was too much hassle trying to run her own business, and was looking for a physical therapy practice to join.

It didn't really matter to him what she did (not too much anyway). The Titans were providing them with most of the essentials they needed, and his salary allowed for an occasional night on the town every month or so. It was good that the top Brass had been able to talk the Federation economists into expanding their budget for the year ahead. It was only February, and 0086 was already looking to be a great year.

He whistled as he walked up the path towards the hangar. It wasn't a long walk, and the sun was just beginning to creep over the Pacific horizon in the east, turning the sky a molten shade of orange. In spite of the way he had been earlier, he wouldn't have minded to stay in bed with Asuka; it was just that kind of lazy Friday morning that seemed so common on the equator.

But, he had a job to do. Operation Tsunami was progressing at a fairly good clip, but it would still be about another year before things were fully in order. Fortunately, the engineering aspect of it wasn't his department; he had only to oversee production and make sure things stayed on schedule. It was good to be an officer.

He was greeted at the hangar entrance by captain Leon McDaniels, head of the test pilot training corps. It had been a pleasant surprise to find out that one of his old war buddies was working on this project too, and helped take a lot of the edge off dealing with a group of restive strangers. He and Leon had been stationed together on the New England Front during the One Year War, but had fallen out of touch following the commencement of Operation Star One. Trowa had gone into Basic training for Space Combat at the Luna II, butt Leon had been unable to link up with the shuttle before their dust-off, and had had to trek across upstate New York to get to the Toronto Air Base. From their he and another soldier, Gene D'ark, had been shipped off to Nevada to participate in the retaking of the Federation's sprawling California Base.

All this to say, in spite of a nigh Odysseus-like pilgrimage, Leon was a damn good soldier and a competent MS pilot in his own right. Trowa was glad to have him on the staff of the Tsunami project.

"How're things looking today, Leon?" he asked, dismissing the salute his subordinate gave.

"Things could be better, sir," Leon replied with a shrug. "Most of them are competent GM pilots, but when I try to up the scenario to give them a semblance of what live combat would be like, they start freezing up like a bunch of greenhorns. I don't even want to think about what it's going to be like training them on the specifications of the final project."

Trowa laughed. "Don't push them too hard, too soon. We can't all be as gifted as the notorious `Squall' McDaniels."

"Damn skippy,"-a half a beat too slow-"sir."

"Keep me posted, Captain. By the way, is Doctor Bidan in yet? I need to ask him about how things are progressing in the hardware department."

"I'm not sure, sir. I'll get the word out on the factory floor to have him report to your office ASAP."

"Thanks a lot. Oh, and be sure to run the pilots through a marine combat scenario in the not too distant future. In the unfortunate event that someone catches on to our little science project here, I want to be able to furnish the base defence squad with whatever help we can. Better safe than sorry, as the saying goes."

"Of course, sir."

"That'll be all, then Captain; give my regards to Priss and your family."

With so much unfamiliar ground to cover-not the least of which being the command over such an important secret operation-it was refreshing to be able to make smalltalk from time to time. Trowa walked past all the various stages of construction going on across the hangar floor with no small measure of awe. Here he was, an upstart Lieutenant Colonel of only twenty-eight, and already overseeing such chaos: Here, a half-finished mobile suit leg, three stories tall with technicians crawling all over it like so many ants; there a partially completed body chases, surrounded by scaffolding with blinding glares from welding torches blossoming here and there; everyone working at an ungodly pace for seven thirty in the morning.

His office at last. A bit of a sanctum amidst the din and racket outside. Not that he minded the ambiance, though, however cacophonous it was. The job would have been all the harder to bear in silence; just thinking about the noiseless vacuum set his heart pounding ever faster.

For just that reason, he had managed to convince some of the techs in their off time to install a surround-sound system linked directly to his personal computer. With a few clicks, he was busily filling out shipping orders of gundanium and listening to Bach's 9th Symphony.

When he was finally settling into his rhythm, a knock sounded at his door. "Come in!"

Frank Bidan, chief engineer for the project entered and took a seat across from him in one of the two meagrely upholstered chairs across from his synth-rosewood desk. Trowa didn't particularly care for the jumped up colonial weapons designer (in some measure due to the fact that he was a colonist, but that was only a small part of it; the guy was an asshole, no two ways about it), but he made every measure to be charitable. "Good to see you, chief engineer," he lied diplomatically, "there's coffee perking by the window if you'd care for some."

"No, thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. If it suits you, I'd prefer to get right to business." Bidan was nearly twice his age, a big man with spectacles perched on the bridge of a beaky nose. Native colonist, he had won some small degree of notoriety for contributing to the designs of the original RX-79-2 Gundam, and had served the Federation diligently since, which was the only reason he was sitting before a Titans officer even now. That, and the fact that his latest design was damn good.

At any rate, the guy was under round the clock surveillance, as were his wife and kid back at Green Noah One in Side One.

Trowa shrugged. "Whatever you wish. The project is progressing as per our schedule, I presume?"

Bidan nodded. "At this rate we should be ready for the 1 December deadline. After the prototype is completed and run through its paces, it should take only a month to complete the second and third unit."

"And then they are to be shipped to Green Noah for finalisation, correct?"

"Yes. We'd like to test them in a vacuum environment, and that colony is most thoroughly under the control of the Titans. It would make logical sense to use that as a proving ground."

"Okay." Trowa would be glad to pass this massive albatross on to the bigwigs at the colony. They'd probably give him a whopping pension for taking this project on and he'd be able to retire and live out his days here in Hawaii with Asuka

Asuka…

It was only with an act of will that he was able to return his mind to finishing his conversation with the engineer. "Okay," he repeated, "is there anything else, chief engineer?"

"Yes sir, that latest shipment of Gundarium out of Shanghai was late getting in. I made do by shifting production to less vital components, so no time was really lost, but you might want to consider shifting our supplier if such a delay happens again. The Portland shipping vessels are more reliable, I'm told."

Trowa scowled. "I remember that. They complained that they were late because the convoy from Wuhan was attacked by bandits. It's a disturbing trend; there have been reports from Smelters in Central Africa, Germany, China, the U.S., and Canada of roving bands of brigands hijacking trucks and shipments of metal, generally at gunpoint. It wouldn't be quite so unsettling if all the groups didn't have members sporting red bandanas on their right arms."

"You think it's some kind of organised insurgency?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to put a label like that on these incidents, but it does make one wonder. Surely you've heard mention of this ragtag group calling themselves the AEUG?"

"Only in passing," Bidan confessed. "Anaheim seems to have taken an interest in them-unofficially of course."

"I see." Though he'd heard rumours, about the terrorists, he'd never heard that they might be being sponsored by the largest corporate entity in the Federation. That bit of information was worth filing away.

"In any event," he said, standing to walk the engineer to the door, "I'll be sure to get on the horn to the people in Shanghai. Provided there's no interference, the next shipment should arrive right on schedule. By the way, how's your son doing? He's in high school in Side One, unless I misremember."

"Teenagers," Bidan snorted, as if that were enough to clear away any possible misconceptions.

"Very well, sir" Trowa said, taking the comment at face value, "I appreciate the progress report."

With that he closed the door and returned to his desk. "Camille Bidan," he snorted, fighting back laughter. "He gives the kid a girl's name and wonders why he's got no control over him."

With a final dismissive shrug, he continued with his duties.