Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We will now begin our Open Campus special event, the Rumble Ring!”

Secelia Dote’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers across Asticassia’s campus, announcing the main event of the day’s festivities.

“The format will be a battle royal-style duel. The time limit is 30 minutes. When a contestant’s blade antenna is broken, they’re eliminated, and the last pilot standing will be the victor.”

Rouji Chante sat on the circular couch behind Secelia, unaware that he was also on the live feed being broadcast around Asticassia. He scrolled through sheets of technical information displayed on his tablet, running through the participants in the event.

R&W’s Jinete, Daigo’s Clibarri Dawon, Earth House’s Aerial and their customized Demi Trainer, Glantz’ Racowy, two Jeturk Dilanzas, two Grassley Heindrees, and even Peil’s Pharact. All of their specifications, weaponry, and equipment was laid out in front of Rouji, painstakingly compiled from hours of Dueling Committee footage.

“Participation is open to all. It’s an exhibition, after all…” Secelia paused for dramatic effect, her outstretched hand pointed at the camera. “So you won’t be dishonored if you lose!”

An obvious lie, but one that had been repeated so often that everyone just accepted it. At Asticassia, any kind of loss was a very public humiliation, and risked your parent company’s standing within the Benerit Group.

Secelia and Rouji both watched as the mobile suit containers sped through the underground tunnels leading to the 9th tactical testing sector. The excitement was palpable in the artificial atmosphere of Asticassia, plenty of students anxious over bets they made on the results. The Grassley girls also had their fair share of rabid fans, screaming and cheering on Sabina and Renee.

From just outside the confines of the arena, a three-car tram descended into prime position to watch the match. Secelia chimed back in as it came to a stop.

“As witness, we are joined by the CEO of Grassley Defense Systems,” she savored another dramatic pause, leaning fully into her role as emcee. “President Sarius Zenelli!”

All 10 mobile suits leaped from their containers, taking in the rough, canyoned terrain of the battleground. President Zenelli scanned the testing sector as the computers went to work simulating the atmosphere and other unique features of the designated environment. As the blue light faded, Sarius leaned forward in his chair.

“Let the Rumble Ring…start!”

All at once, the mobile suits roared into action. The smaller houses had an immediate plan: target Suletta and the Aerial. Even with the advertised “exhibition only”, the title of Holder still meant a lot to those whose companies could gain the world and then some with an arranged marriage to Miorine Rembran.

Their plan ran into an immediate problem, namely a wall clad in dark blue firing bursts from its dual beam rifles.

Secelia took a seat on the couch next to Rouji as the opening stanza of the battle unfolded. Elan’s Pharact skated across the rocky surface of the testing sector, driving the combined front of Daigo, R&W, and Glantz away from the Aerial.

“For a battle royale, it sure seems like everyone’s got some alliances,” the silver-haired girl quipped as she unwrapped a piece of candy and popped it into her mouth.

“Everyone is worried about what the Aerial can do, given her performance in the Holder’s Challenge,” Rouji responded, his eyes fixed on the AI-controlled camera array on his tablet screen. The Pharact was still driving back Suletta’s would-be attackers, while the two Dilanza were running to the wide flank of the Aerial.

“Not everyone, two of them have remembered that the Pharact is a Gundam too,” Secelia noted casually.

Sure enough, the two Heindrees were streaking towards Elan Ceres, beam pistols firing at the now-airborne Gundam. The signature Peil mobility was superior to the Heindree’s, but Sabina Fardin kept pace regardless, batting away the Demi Trainer as it crossed her path.

Unfortunately, Sabina’s focused pursuit left her back open to the Demi Trainer’s high-powered beam rifle. Chuatury raised her weapon and took aim for the Heindree’s head unit.

…

But no shot came. The Demi Trainer stood there motionless, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Hey, doesn’t that pink-haired hothead know that her performance reflects on Burion too? Shoot already!” Secelia leaned forward and glared at the monitor.

Finally the beams rained upwards towards the Heindree, but by that point the lock-on had been lost and they flew harmlessly to the left side of the mobile suit.

“That was…weird,” Rouji observed quietly, glancing back at the Demi Trainer’s specs.

Meanwhile, Renee Costa’s Heindree had split off and was charging towards the Aerial, lance glinting in the simulated light.

Suletta’s bit staves responded instantly, reforming the Escutcheon to stonewall the electromagnetic weapon and giving the Aerial time to ready its counterattack.

Before it could come, however, a heavy, superheated axe crashed between the two mobile suits, nearly crushing the Heindree’s weaponry.

“Well, there’s the Jeturk’s strategy,” Secelia sighed, kicking her feet up. “Brash and reckless, as usual.”

“Don’t forget about Ms. Rollo,” Rouji looked over the screen of his tablet just in time to see Felsi’s Dilanza bat Renee aside with its beam torch, then push her advantage with the unit’s submachine gun.

“Those two even fight the same, huh? I guess that’s why they go after each other so often,” Secelia scoffed. “Let’s see if they can finally calm down if one of them wins.”

“That seems unlikely,” Rouji smiled as Lauda Neill’s Dilanza kicked its thrusters into high gear and flew up the cliffside in pursuit of the Aerial.

The sound of beam vulcans filled the air as Suletta stayed just out of reach of the Dilanza’s low-power weaponry.

“Lauda seems angry today. His dear brother must be weighing on his mind,” Secelia’s tone was mocking, a barb towards the now-AWOL Guel Jeturk, the heir to Jeturk Heavy Machinery.

All of Asticassia knew Lauda was now set to take a position as chair of the company, with Vim Jeturk dead. Some were even convinced that Lauda had arranged the current strife plaguing Jeturk, as a ploy to accelerate his rise to power.

“What is it with you and the Jeturks?” Rouji asked, not looking up as the Dilanza failed to close the distance between it and the Aerial.

“They’re simple, stubborn, and unbelievably dull, Rouji. It makes them so easy to get a-“

Secelia was cut off as a large rumble shook both the tactical testing sector and the rest of Asticassia. A large explosion followed it and sent dust scattering around the area, blinding the cameras in Rouji’s array. When it all settled, Rouji saw a deep turquoise mobile suit equipped with a large, heavy gatling gun.

It charged at Lauda’s Dilanza, crushing the mobile suit’s head unit with the barrel of its weapon and sending it crashing to the ground.

Before Suletta could try to help her classmate, a scattershot of beams rained down on her, forcing her bit staves into a beam-deflecting I-field.

Rouji and Secelia both scanned the cameras, finally locating a muddied brown mobile suit closing in on the Aerial. The blue-haired boy stiffened as he saw the two invading mobile suits next to each other.

“Secelia,” he turned towards the silver-haired girl who was looking on in shock. “Secelia! You need to tell everyone to get to shelter!”

“I…why? What’s happening?” Secelia was standing in front of the massive monitor again, frozen in place as she watched the turquoise mobile suit destroy the simulated environment of the testing sector.

“Those are Earthian terrorists! They were at Plant Quetta!” Rouji’s voice was rising as panic scrambled his nerves. “Burion had footage from the incident! We need to get people to safety!”

Both of them watched as the brown mobile suit unleashed a shot towards the modified Demi Trainer. Chuatury managed to dodge at the last second, the beam shearing off the armor on her left shoulder instead of destroying the cockpit.

“Those two don’t have the campus regulation program installed,” Rouji said, trying to control his emotions. “They’re prepared for real combat. People are in danger and the Front Management Company is nowhere to be found.”

Secelia stared back at her Burion House companion, processing the implications of what he had just told her. She took a few deep breaths and turned the broadcast microphone back on.

“This is an emergency announcement. The Rumble Ring is hereby canceled! Everyone in the tactical testing sector, evacuate immediately!” Secelia shouted into the microphone, desperately trying to quash the fear threatening to overwhelm her voice.

Everyone on campus was caught in a limbo, deciding whether to run to a shelter or continue watching the chaos inside the tactical testing sector. And so, they all watched as the brown mobile suit rained beams down on the mobile suits from Daigo, R&W, and Glantz.

And they all watched as the beam fire converged into one, high-energy blast.

And they all watched as it neatly punched through the cockpit of Daigo’s Clibarri Dawon.

And they all watched as the mobile suit exploded, leaving nothing but a pile of flaming, twisted metal.

And then nobody was watching anymore, as the gathered spectators panicked and scattered, trying to find any safe place left in Asticassia.

Meanwhile, the two attacking mobile suits began to glow red, the large attachments on their backs opening up. Soon they were surrounded by six similarly-glowing mobile suits, three of them following the movements of the turquoise one and three following the brown one.

After combat, soldiers have often testified to the fact that while many people see just the one battle, there are actually countless smaller ones unfolding in every single corner, reshaping the combatants in ways that can’t be explained afterwards.

For example, everyone watched as the Aerial battled the heavily-armed turquoise mobile suit, its gatling gun punching a hole in the walls of the testing sector and sending both of them into the space outside Asticassia.

Nobody noticed the two Heindrees jet away from the combat, making their way towards Sarius Zenelli’s observation car.

Nobody noticed a scared Spacian girl cry out in desperation as one of the unmanned bit stave mobile suits closed in on her and her severely injured friend. And nobody noticed an Earthian answer that desperate cry, destroying her assailant in a gesture neither would forget.

Nobody noticed two human beings, deemed expendable and forced into cursed machines by those with more power than them, dueling just to stay alive in spite of the world.

And in the defense of those non-spectators, they were easy things to miss. These small, life-altering battles were fought with only their participants as their audience, thanks in part to the efforts of Secelia Dote and Rouji Chante, funneling people to safety as beam weaponry filled the air.

Eventually, the roaring sounds of combat diminished to background noise, and then was fully replaced by the sound of Demi Garrison engines, finally putting an end to the situation.

As the familiar Burion suits filled the airspace of Asticassia, Secelia took a few steps backwards and gracelessly collapsed into the couch besides Rouji. Her forehead was dripping with sweat, the rivulets cascading down and causing her makeup to start to run. Rouji tapped at his tablet, flicking between cameras on the array to try and figure out what had happened as they had evacuated all the spectators.

“Rouji…” Secelia was equal parts exhausted and lost for words, having lost the adrenaline that had powered her through the attack.

“The 9th tactical testing sector is in ruins, as the large turquoise mobile suit shot a hole in the side. There are no reports on civilian casualties yet and minimal damage to areas outside the testing sector,” Rouji ran through the mental list he had made as he watched the cameras placed around campus.

“Jubeju of Daigo House was…”

His voice wavered, and he looked over at Secelia. They both knew. A mobile suit pilot didn’t just escape when their unit exploded. The rules regarding cockpits existed at Asticassia for a reason, as many people who tried to settle grudges using the Dueling Committee had found out very quickly.

“What about everyone else?” Secelia swallowed hard, the Clibarri Dawon explosion flashing back in front of her eyes.

“Both Dilanzas are damaged, but not destroyed. The Demi Trainer is missing shoulder armor. R&W and Glantz both seem damaged but are at least fully intact.”

Rouji took a deep breath between each sentence, struggling to stay composed as he looked for his classmates.

“Um…Aerial is still outside of the school but it looks untouched. The turquoise mobile suit is badly damaged and is being held by the brown one. The cockpit is intact, but I…I think the pilot is…”

“If the cockpit isn’t destroyed, then how…”

Both of them stared at the other, each knowing the answer but neither wanting to speak it, as if the answer would put some ancient curse on them.

“What are those two…?” Secelia leaned over and watched the camera feed on Rouji’s tablet. Suletta and the Aerial watched from afar as the brown mobile suit carried the turquoise one away, trying to evade the Front Management Company.

“They both have Permet codes, but that’s all I know. The turquoise one is LF-U and the brown one is LF-T. They both showed up in the footage Burion had of the incident at Plant Quetta, so they’re-“

“Earthian terrorists.”

Secelia finished Rouji’s sentence for him, disgust in her words. “That would mean that those two pilots were-“

“Sophie Pulone and Norea Du Noc, the newest Earth House students, yes.”

This time, a new voice finished Secelia’s sentence. In the doorway across the room stood Elan Ceres of Peil House, scratches and sweat adorning his face.

“And yes, those two mobile suits are both Gundams,” Elan strolled over to the couch and sat in the center of it, kicking up his feet.

“The Pharact and its pilot seem to have made it through the attack as well,” Rouji noted quietly to Secelia.

“Unfortunately,” the silver-haired girl scowled at the blonde intruder.

“Hey, now that’s a bit rude, don’t you think? I’ve already given you some pretty useful information, and I might have some more if you’d just be nice,” Elan held his hands up in a pacifying gesture, mouth curled in a smirk.

Secelia stood up and turned her back to Elan.

“Rouji, what happened to the two Grassley Heindrees?”

The blue-haired boy tapped around on his tablet while Elan shrugged and hopped over the back of the couch.

“I can’t find them on any cameras, but that also means they’re not a pile of wreckage in the tactical testing sector,” Rouji set the tablet on his lap and sighed.

“Oh, I think you’ll find that Miss Fardin and Miss Costa are perfectly fine, despite some performative battle damage.”

Elan Ceres stood in the doorway, essentially a silhouette against the light pouring in from the hallway.

“But I think you’ll find a suspicious lack of Sarius Zenelli.”

The blonde gave a flourish of his hand and, before anyone could reply, shut the door to the Dueling Committee.

Chapter Text

Lauda Neill really wished his head would stop hurting.

The new CEO of Jeturk Heavy Machinery rubbed his temples, gauze wrapped tightly around that part of his forehead.

“It seems our confidential matters have been leaked.”

The shrill, harsh voices of the Peil hags did not help, either. He couldn’t tell which of the four was talking and honestly he did not care.

“Nothing but the single video message he sent,” Lauda heard a new voice say, answering some question that Lauda had tuned out.

Shaddiq Zenelli was another problem entirely. He looked altogether too smug and self-confident for someone whose adopted father was currently missing. And yet people suspected Lauda of patricide as a power play. Absolutely absurd, he scoffed.

“What is Cathedra doing?!” Lauda slammed a fist on the table in frustration. “After two attacks, they still can’t catch them?”

“Weren’t you also there during the Open Campus incident?” One of the Peil women, this one in a purple visor, shot back at him. Lauda swung his head to his side and opened his mouth to retort, but another of the Peil women interrupted him.

“All these hardline polices have backfired.”

“The Space Assembly League is starting to dig around too,” the third added, right on the heels of the last. It was creepy, like all of them had telepathic links to the others. “At this rate…”

Finally the last of the Peil women joined the discussion.

“Yes. We’ll have no choice but to elect a new president.”

The suggestion sent quiet chatter around the meeting room. Some, more loyal to Delling Rembran, rejected the idea without a second thought, while the more power-hungry among them pondered the thought of an election like a wolf might gaze at an unguarded chicken coop.

“An election with one company head missing and the current president on life support? At best this is a panic decision and at worst it’s a blatant power grab by the enemies of Delling Rembran! Pure absurdity!” A gray-haired older man sitting across from the Peil contingent yelled to the entire room.

“Now, now, the Benerit Group needs to display a strong front to the public. Recent events have made the Group look divided and incapable, what would change that perception more than a new president with the backing of the whole Group?”

Shaddiq spoke calmly, that characteristic, poisonous charisma flowing through every word. There was no arguing his reasoning, and no fighting the confidence he spoke with.

“We’ve got candidates from each of the Big Three too, along with the heir to the Rembrans,” Lauda chimed in, a little upset that he and Shaddiq were working with the same intentions.

“Now, when was that decided?”

A low, quiet voice entered the conversation, its owner seated in the middle of Shaddiq’s side of the table.

“I personally can’t see why Jeturk Heavy Machinery should even get to call itself a member of the Big Three, given their recent track record.”

Lauda jumped to his feet, nearly sending his chair crashing to the floor.

“How dare you! What gives you the right?!”

The speaker, known to the group as Mr. Burion, simply leaned forward and stared Lauda directly in the eyes.

“To start, your beloved older brother and the true heir to the company disgraced himself against a pilot from a backwater mining planet. Now he’s gone missing. Then, your idiotic former CEO got himself killed against a terrorist in an inferior mobile suit.”

The eyes of everyone in attendance grew wide at the CEO of Burion’s very personal barb. If looks could kill, Lauda would likely have been charged with corpse desecration. But they couldn't, much to Lauda’s chagrin, and Mr. Burion continued.

“And you, a CEO for all of a day, want to run a serious campaign for president? Did I not mention that the mobile suits that attacked Plant Quetta were of Jeturk make? How about your ineptitude at the Open Campus?” Mr. Burion stood up as well, pointing a finger at the CEO of Jeturk Heavy Machinery. “You are barely fit to be CEO, much less a member of the Big Three. It is unthinkable that a brat such as yourself could be president.”

Mr. Burion took a step backwards and spread his arms outwards, addressing the table.

“I have a simple suggestion for the Group. Due to the instability and constant failures of Jeturk Heavy Machinery, their status within the Benerit Group should be lowered until they can prove their worth. In the meantime, I would like to submit a formal presidential campaign, and that Burion Company be the replacement for the Jeturks.”

“On what grounds? All you produce is cheap, military-use mobile suits. The Dilanza is superior in every category, and the Darilbalde is close to affordable mass-production! The track record of my company is unmatched!” Lauda let the emotion take his voice, trying to fire back at Mr. Burion from his depleted reservoir of pride.

“I think you’ll find, Mr. Neill, that Burion consistently sells the Demi series, netting great profit for the group. Especially now that the Demi Garrison has been chosen by the Front Management Company,” Mr. Burion walked around the table and stood in front of Lauda, locking him with a cold, calculated stare.

“But, if you’d really like to test mobile suit specifications, I have two units and two pilots ready. We can even handle this like you schoolchildren do, with a duel.”

Lauda laughed, a mocking yet nervous sound.

“Burion House barely has any pilots, and yet you want to challenge the Jeturks? Be my guest!”

“I would warn you to not underestimate my chosen pilots. I’m sure you’ve already met them, and people in their positions have easy access to as much piloting time as they need. I’m glad you’re on board, though,” Mr. Burion extended his hand to Lauda.

“You’re forgetting a step, Mr. Burion,” Lauda’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he smirked at the Burion CEO. “What exactly is our wager? Since that’s how ‘us schoolchildren’ do it.”

“Hm, ok. If Burion House wins, you concede Jeturk Heavy Machinery’s position within the Benerit Group, and put your full support behind my presidential campaign.”

Lauda almost laughed in his face. As far as stakes go, it was almost laughable. Even if he was forced to support Burion’s presidential run, Jeturk Heavy Machinery had legacy, it had pull. Some stupid duel wasn’t going to change that.

“Deal. And if Jeturk House wins, you support my presidential campaign, and offer half of your own factories to produce Jeturk mobile suits, plus you’ll share your research and development papers with Jeturk.”

It was a weighty ask, one that could take away Burion Company’s autonomy and sense of individuality. But Mr. Burion simply smiled as Lauda shook his outstretched hand.

“It’s a deal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I had better go inform my pilots of the news.”

With a militaristic heel turn, the CEO of Burion Company walked out of the room, a wide smile still on his face.

As the door closed, Lauda very quickly realized that every single pair of eyes in the room was focused on him.

“How firey!” Shaddiq was the first to break the silence, his tone light and subtly mocking. “You were made for that CEO title, huh?”

“What an interesting election this is shaping up to be!” One of the Peil women piped up, softly clapping her hands.

“Be quiet. Shaddiq, I’ll see you soon. You’re going to observe this duel,” Lauda said as he pushed in his chair.

“Me? I hardly think I’m qualified, at least not compared to Ms. Dote.”

“And that’s exactly why you’re the observer this time.”

Lauda didn’t wait for a response, stepping into the hallway.

At least his headache was gone.
——————————————————————————————————————
The fallout from the Rumble Ring came in the form of daily barrages of information, at least for the last two sitting members of the Dueling Committee.

First, Sarius Zenelli was indeed missing, with a single video message being the only proof of life. Second, Sabina Fardin and Renee Costa were both fine, the two of them found outside Asticassia by the Front Management Company. Third, the Lfrith Ur and Lfrith Thorn (names also found out through Elan Ceres), were missing, as was the remaining Earthian pilot.

Also included in the never-ending stream of new information was that Earth House and GUND-ARM were under investigation for possible involvement in the attack, and that Nika Nanaura was also missing. Coupled with at least a week of canceled classes due to a death toll that now sat at 12, every day felt like it had a new gravitational pull to adapt to.

Having to replay the camera footage of the attack certainly wasn’t helping either. Rouji had spent much of his free time pouring over every frame to find some new detail.

“Can you shut that off?!” Secelia shouted over to her younger companion, looking up from filing her nails. “Seriously, I saw enough of that when it happened.”

With a stifled sigh, Rouji set the tablet aside and stood up, looking out at the image of the campus reflected on the monitor that passed for a window at the Burion House dorms.

The wreckage was still pretty apparent. Some of the wall-mounted display boards were still off while others crackled with static. Demi Garrisons were everywhere, some on security details, while others transported repair materials to patches of rubble that used to be buildings. There were no students out either. Many parents had quickly pulled their children back home, and everyone who remained had been told to stay in their respective houses.

Burion House had seen a bit more than its fair share of student departures, the near-complete lack of piloting majors meaning that many parents figured it would be safer to teach their kids through good old-fashioned on-the-job training. For Rouji and Secelia, though, nobody had asked them to come home. But they preferred it that way, truth be told.

“I’m just trying to do what Mr. Burion asked of us. It’s either this or find a spare testing sector, you know,” Rouji turned and looked at his housemate, trying to read her expression, which had darkened as he spoke.

“You want to get into a mobile suit after watching that? Are you insane?” Secelia filed away at her nails, refusing to look at Rouji.

“Well…no, I just…” the blue-haired boy sat back down, tucking his knees against his chest. “I don’t know.”

The conversation died down as neither of them could think of another way to fill their newly-abundant free time. Rouji was about to open his mouth when a call came through on his tablet.

“Uh, Secelia…it’s Mr. Burion.”

With an exasperated sigh, she tossed the nail file onto the table in front of her and made her way to Rouji’s side.

“Well, you’d better answer it. Not like there’s anything better to do today…”

One digital button press later and the smiling face of the Burion Company CEO was looking at the two of them. His penchant for smiling made his age hard to tell, laugh lines adorning his face. His hair was thinning, but still looked jet black without any trace of a gray hair.

“Rouji, Secelia! I’m glad to see you’re both unharmed! I heard they’ve canceled classes for the entire week.”

“Hi, Mr. Burion. Yes, there aren’t any classes, meaning -“

Secelia leaned forward, partially obscuring her housemate.

“Meaning it’s extremely boring here. We’re stuck in the dorms unless there’s a duel challenge. And nobody wants to do that after seeing those mobile suits go on a rampage.”

Mr. Burion did a little vague gesture with his hands and smiled even wider, somehow.

“Well, well, I think I have the cure for your boredom! You do know Mr. Lauda Neill, correct?”

Secelia audibly gagged.

“What do we need with that weasel?”

“Oh, good, you are acquainted! I was worried that I may have lied earlier. Well, to make a long meeting short, he’s going to be issuing a duel challenge for the future of Jeturk in the Benerit Group!”

Rouji and Secelia sighed at nearly the same time. As eccentric as Mr. Burion was, he became easy to read fairly quickly. But before either could take a guess as to the specifics of this duel, Rouji’s Haro unit dinged.

“These must be the details…Lauda Neill and Felsi Rollo are challenging…” Rouji skimmed the message aloud. “Burion House?”

“Hey, old man, what does that mean?” Secelia fixed the tablet camera with an intense stare.

“Ah, well…the Benerit Group is electing a new president, and to throw my hat into the ring, I challenged Mr. Neill to a duel for support in the election. It was really quite a funny thing, he got very upset.” Mr. Burion scratched his head, his smile as wide as ever.

“Are you asking us to fight Jeturk mobile suits in Demi Garrisons? Have you lost your mind?” Secelia’s tone was incredulous, with a touch of anger rising.

“A Darilbalde has higher specifications across the board than a standard Demi Garrison. When you factor in the Jeturk AI, the likelihood of taking the blade antenna of one would be-“

Mr. Burion cut off Rouji before he could finish his rundown of the mobile suit’s tech sheets.

“No, no, I’ve got two prototypes from a new line of Burion mobile suits, you’ll be using those! We have to showcase our technical capabilities, after all!”

A muffled noise came from somewhere behind Mr. Burion, and he gave Rouji and Secelia a brief wave.

“They’ll be at Asticassia in two days! I’ll see you then! Gotta go!”

And before either of them could protest, the call ended.

Secelia stared at the black screen for a few seconds. It looked like she was processing information in slow motion, weighing not only the duel she was suddenly going to be taking part in, but also the brand new mobile suit controls she was going to have to learn. Oh, and the small fact that, six months ago, she hadn’t even been a piloting major.

Slowly, she began to lean, eventually crossing a threshold and unceremoniously falling onto her side. Rouji, legs still tucked against his chest, just watched as his housemate went through her typical reactions to Mr. Burion’s spur of the moment decisions. When he had first asked them to start practicing their piloting skills, Secelia had spent nearly an hour staring at the wall, muttering about Jeturks and Grassleys and “unrealistic expectations.”

To her credit, she’d taken to the intricacies of mobile suit piloting very quickly, her body adjusting to the g-forces she quickly learned were typical for melee combat. Secelia had gravitated towards more physical weaponry, asking the Burion mechanical students to work on blades similar to the Jeturk heat knife while seeing just how much speed and maneuverability she could fit into a mobile suit before it caused her vision to go red.

Rouji, however, was quite deathly afraid of things like a redout and lose of consciousness. He focused his attention on surveying the battlefield and providing support from a long range. The Burion mechanics would never say as much, but his in-depth notes on mobile suits and weaponry from other companies likely advanced their own technology by years. Rouji had worked with them on not only modifications to the typical Burion heavy machine gun, but also an AI system that worked much like the one in the Jeturk Darilbalde and the Peil Pharact.

The two had gotten the most work as a tandem, however. Being on the Dueling Committee allowed them to use a testing sector in relative secrecy, and the data collected by Rouji had enabled a rudimentary battle AI system that allowed he and Secelia to fight together against a wide variety of simulated mobile suits. They had learned a lot about each other in the training phase, at times being in sync without a single word exchanged.

It also meant lots of time spent together in a usually very empty room. Burion House had no pilots besides them, and so the preparation area beneath the house had become like a second committee room to them. Even if they didn’t really have much of anything to talk about, they’d sit together and recover from their training, just enjoying the other’s company.

Despite that, they hadn’t really bothered to define what exactly it was between the two of them, and while it made Rouji a little anxious to not really know, the prospect of broaching that conversation topic scared him much more. Even if being in very close proximity to the mixture of sweat and Secelia’s perfume after a training session had nearly given him the confidence to do so.

The blue-haired boy blushed a subtle shade of red and glanced at the occupant of his thoughts, her little dramatic moment subsiding.

“I take it back, Rouji.” Secelia muttered as she sat upright again. “Let’s get in some mobile suits.”

Rouji simply nodded, happy to have something to replace the very active thoughts waging a war in his head.
-—————————————————————————————————————————
“Fix release!”

Secelia’s voice rang through the Demi Garrison’s intercom, the words as natural to her as breathing. With one final courtesy hail signal to Rouji, she kicked her thrusters into gear and began to cross the jagged terrain. They were on the 4th tactical testing sector, laid out like a ruined cityscape, complete with the burnt-out shells of cars and blown-out pavement.

Rouji had suggested a 1on1 practice duel instead of their typical tandem practice against simulated enemies. She had nearly pressed him on his reasoning, but his blush was poorly concealed behind his Haro unit and she figured it was easier to not ask. Men were complicated and stubborn creatures after all, a lesson she had learned very quickly among the hot-headed (and bull-headed) personalities that the Dueling Committee forced her to interact with every day.

At least this was a little out of character for Rouji. He was probably the meekest person she’d met since coming to Asticassia, but that was endearing. He didn’t try and lecture her or guide her, and unlike a certain bunch of lions, Rouji didn’t have an ego that would crumble to dust if he was ever wrong about a single thing.

For someone who had been forced into entertaining suitors for political marriages since before she had started at Asticassia, it was new and unfamiliar territory for Secelia to be actually close (were she and Rouji close close? She couldn’t decide) with a man instead of just feeling like she was a shiny trophy. He talked with her normally, listened when she had something to say, and knew when she just wanted to be quiet.

Had Secelia really considered what she and Rouji “were”? A few times, when the adrenaline of training was still coursing through her veins. Otherwise, she found the thoughts complicated and slightly frustrating, so she was mostly content letting their definition go unspoken.

Flashing lights and blaring alarms shook Secelia out of her (rather embarrassing) train of thought and she barely managed to avoid a long-range beamshot aimed at her shoulder.

Rouji’s microphone chimed up, an audible smile in his voice.

“You were distracted.”

Secelia cursed and grimaced before turning her own microphone on.

“Can it. And wipe that smile off your face.”

She kicked the thrusters into second gear, relishing the feel of the g-forces as she darted between overturned vehicles. She felt every turn in her stomach, the velocity as her muscles moved with the mobile suit and her back slammed against the seat. The adrenaline kicked into her bloodstream and an involuntary smile crept onto Secelia’s face. If this was what a Demi Garrison could feel like, just IMAGINE how a brand new prototype mobile suit would feel. The thought of those hairpin turns at high speeds, all-range movement with unmatchable acceleration, and the sheer kinetic force she could generate on a weapon swing made her heart leap. She felt that special kind of anxious that pools up in the middle of your stomach when you’re so excited about something that just waiting for something was agony.

Secelia leaned into another high-speed turn, the sense of semi-weightlessness clearing her thoughts a little bit. As she straightened the Demi Garrison back out, she saw Rouji. He was going much slower than her, opting to find lanes in the battlefield to turn into extremely treacherous corridors with a simple pull of a trigger. Unfortunately for him, she was at his flank and closing in fast.

With a sustained downward blast of the Demi Garrison’s thrusters, Secelia leaped, feathering her thruster controls for greater distance and speed. Mid-flight, she reached to her unit’s right hip, the manipulator finding a heavy, rounded handle and yanking it from the holster.

Rouji’s Demi Garrison pivoted, its sensor systems alerting him to the mobile suit that was approaching as if it had become a comet. He did manage to avoid the brunt of the hit, aimed to slice through the head and right arm unit in one fell swoop. But a minute adjustment of Secelia’s wide, long, and super-heated blade helped it still find some level of purchase.

The left arm of Rouji’s mobile suit was sheered off just above the elbow, the temperature of the weapon slicing through the metal and machinery as if it was made of butter. It dropped to the simulated pavement with a metallic thud, wires sparking with untransferred electricity.

Secelia’s face went from a euphoric grin to a frustrated half frown. She had been aiming for his unit’s shooting arm, trying to force him into close combat. Sure, the loss of the left arm meant stabilizing his shots would be difficult, but that would be a minor hindrance to Rouji at best. Sure enough, he was already reversing at full speed, recreating the gap to set up some suppressing fire.

She bit her lower lip and streaked towards the retreating Demi Garrison, tapping her thruster controls to add some sidewards movement to her charge. Rouji, still gunning it backwards, raised his unit’s beam rifle and laid down a barrage of beam fire. For his lack of a stable firing surface, it was incredibly well-shot. If Secelia hadn’t been darting between left and right, the shots would have immobilized her unit’s legs. Instead, most of them went just wide, only one finding a mark by punching through her left leg’s adjustable booster.

Secelia cursed loudly in the cockpit, her Demi Garrison now both slower and beginning to list to the left. With a low growl she killed the thrust on her right side and relied just on the backpack boosters. The time it took her to do this was just the opening that Rouji needed. He locked a shot on and pulled the trigger again, this time the limiter scaled back to allow more power usage.

The bright green beam of super-charged protons split the gap between them in less than the blink of an eye. By the time Secelia had managed to straighten her mobile suit out, the beam had punched through its target.

Her unit’s left shoulder exploded in a small burst of fire and smoke, sending the rest of the arm unit, and her sword, flying through a dilapidated concrete building.

Without a second thought, Secelia sent one of her beam sabers from its waist storage unit into her unit’s hand and kicked up to another gear. She was nearly a blur, her body essentially pinned to her seatback as the Demi Garrison hurtled at its counterpart, beam saber humming.

“Alright!!” Secelia was cackling, blood roaring in her ears as she felt wholly weightless.

Rouji met her beam saber with his own, the two blades crackling as they rejected the other. Despite his relative discomfort in close quarters combat, he was answering her swings like they were part of a choreographed movement. As they traded blows, Secelia noticed one fatal flaw.

Instead of answering his next saber swing, she dodged and kicked one leg out, unbalancing his Demi Garrison. Her next swing severed the arm at the wrist. And then, standing over his mobile suit, Secelia flicked her unit’s wrist and tapped the very tip of Rouji’s blade antenna, sending part of it bouncing to the pavement.

“Remind me never to actually get into a fight with you,” Rouji sighed as he stared up at Secelia’s Demi Garrison.

Secelia turned off the beam saber and let it drop back into her mobile suit’s waist armor, offering the unit’s remaining hand to Rouji.

“As long as you keep that beam rifle away from me,” she gave an out-of-breath laugh as she brought his Demi Garrison back to its feet.

Thirty minutes later, the two of them were back in the preparation area beneath Burion House. Their classmates on the mechanical team weren’t overly excited about the state of the only two Demi Garrisons in the House’s possession. The sudden appearance of two mobile suits with an impressive amount of stress deformation and a missing arm each caused a slight panic, given the minor detail that nobody told them there was a practice duel taking place. They were even less excited when they found out they’d have two more mobile suits to service before the week was over.

It took several minutes and a number of IOUs, but eventually, they got to work and Rouji and Secelia could get out of their pilot suits.

Secelia felt sore all over as she toweled off, a warm shower providing no relief from the intense g-forces she had subjected herself to. Every slight movement was like fire in her muscles, hindering any quickness she wanted to add to them. Secelia sighed and tossed her hairbrush onto the countertop, another jab of soreness shooting through her arm. She forewent the rest of her routine and threw her unzipped school jacket on over a plain, dark blue T-shirt, complimented with a pair of black athletic shorts. Secelia’s silver hair was still wet, flat against her head without any product or styling done to it.

When she stepped into the common area of the prep area, Rouji was tucked into the corner of an angled couch, once again tapping at something on his tablet screen. He was dressed in a baggy Burion sweatshirt and loose-fitting lounge pants, his custom Haro unit next to him. She took a seat on his right side, peering over his shoulder.

“Do you spontaneously combust if you don’t watch a certain amount of mobile suit film a day?” Secelia said, letting her tired body relax against the soft material of the couch.

“I don’t think anyone has ever spontaneously combusted for any reason. I’m just trying to understand what I did wrong today,” Rouji said as he studied the video clip on his screen.

“Well, I can tell you that. You were swinging the beam saber expecting to meet mine. You can’t mentally plan out a sword fight, you have to be able to react to what your opponent does,” Secelia explained, leaning onto Rouji’s shoulder and pointing at the screen. “As soon as I noticed that, I knew all I had to do was do what you weren’t expecting.”

As she spoke, the practice replay showed Rouji’s Demi Garrison stumble as its swing came up empty. In the next moment, Secelia’s mobile suit swiped a leg forward and sent him careening to the ground, beam saber aimed at his head unit. Rouji just hung his head, a little embarrassed at his housemate’s succinct explanation of his misstep.

“I still don’t get close combat. I’ve tried to learn from you but it still doesn’t feel natural.”

“You don't really need to get it, you dork,” Secelia smiled and put an arm around Rouji, pulling him closer. “You've got your long-range skills, and that's why we work so well together!”

“Well…yea, but…” Rouji was blushing, not sure how to react to Secelia's closeness. “Mobility is the superior thing, I couldn't even detect you in time. How did you even get to those speeds?”

Secelia went to ruffle his hair but another twinge of pain in her arm stopped her.

“Clearly I shouldn't have, according to my whole body,” she said with a grimace. “It's just about how much you can push your mobile suit. And the thrusters your engineers give you,” Secelia added with a nod to the hangar bay.

The two of them fell silent, Secelia's arm keeping Rouji’s side pressed against her own.

Internally, Secelia’s heart was racing. She'd taken a bit of a step away from her comfort zone by holding her housemate so close, but he hadn't pulled away or even looked off-put by the contact. And so she was anxiously content, the feeling of Rouji next to her helping to relax her brain.

“Do you think we can actually beat Jeturk House?”

Rouji had turned his head up towards Secelia, looking at her with a slightly anxious expression. She wanted to lie, to lift his spirits and be that beacon of confidence for Burion, but the nervousness and exhaustion that framed his features sparked something in her that she didn’t quite understand or fully realize.

“I…don’t know. I don’t know what Mr. Burion has engineered for us, and I don’t know what Lauda’s done to the Darilbalde since Guel’s last duel. But I know we’ll fight together, and because of that, I’ll do everything I can to crush him, regardless of the stakes.”

Rouji didn’t move or break eye contact for several seconds, seemingly analyzing what Secelia had just declared. Finally, he gave a silent nod and looked back at his tablet.

“I’ll do the same. Thank you, Secelia.”

The two of them fell back into silence, still leaning against each other as they reviewed more duel film.

The mechanical students working on the Demi Garrisons made sure to tread carefully in the preparation room after they finished their work. Their two pilots had fallen asleep on the couch, resting against each other, and nobody wanted to be the one that woke them up. Especially not after last time.
——————————————————————————————————————————
“Oh! Well this is a fun surprise!”

Shaddiq’s overly happy tone was like nails on a chalkboard to Secelia. She and Rouji had barely walked in when his voice rose up from the large couch in the center of the room.

“I knew I was going to be the observer, but wow! To think the ever-prickly Ms. Dote would actually be in a duel!” He turned his gaze to Rouji, a customized Haro held in his arms. “And that her little secretary would be in it too!”

“Watch it, Zenelli. I’ll gladly kick your ass too after I’m done with that weaselly bastard, if you’d like.” Secelia stepped forward, partially obscuring Rouji. “Or do you just let your Valkyries do all your dirty work for you nowadays?”

Shaddiq grimaced at the very pointed jab, very much aware of the rumors spread about the usage of his personal guard. He rebuilt his expression quickly, however.

“Oh no, if we were to receive a challenge from you personally, there’s no way I could let anyone but myself accept it,” he said with an overly fake smile.

Secelia just scoffed and sat on the opposite side of the couch, Rouji close behind. The silence of the room wasn’t particularly pleasant, but the alternative was trading shots with a smug asshole that had far too large of a magazine for her liking.

She said that, but by the time Lauda walked into the room (15 minutes late), Secelia had been ready to call Shaddiq a jackass just to feel something again.

Behind Lauda was a familiar Jeturk face. Felsi Rollo, Lauda’s choice of duel partner, walked in right on his heels, determination in that characteristic smirk of hers.

“I’m so glad you could join us, Mr. CEO, Ms. Rollo! We can finally begin the duel process,” Shaddiq beamed as he walked to the front of the room, putting an extra bit of emphasis on the words “finally begin”.

With a sigh, Secelia stood up, her and Rouji taking a spot on one side of the observer.

“I hope you two are prepared for whatever your idiot of a CEO has thrown you into. He seemed very confident for a bastard low enough to attack someone’s family.”

Lauda spat the sentence at Rouji and Secelia, contempt dripping from every word. Felsi didn’t add anything, instead staring daggers at them.

Mr. Burion must have said something about Guel, Secelia smiled to herself.

“Oooh, how scary. That bandage from getting your shit clocked in the Rumble Ring really adds to your intimidation factor, y’know.”

The words were completely fake, an insult only meant to shock everyone else in the room. Secelia had been as scared as the rest of them during the Rumble Ring, but only Rouji actually knew as much, and he wasn’t going to call her bluff. A duel is as much mental as it is physical, after all.

“I am going to enjoy disgracing you and your backwater of a company, Secelia.”

“Not as much as I’m going to enjoy watching Jeturk Heavy Machinery explode like your father did, you shitty little weasel.”

That one did it. Lauda lunged at Secelia, screaming and frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. He went for her throat, only to find himself lifted by his collar by Shaddiq. Both Felsi and Rouji were frozen in place, in disbelief of how personal this duel had gotten. Secelia just smirked, relishing how easily she could get under Lauda’s skin.

“Now, now, there’s no need for violence before the duel itself. Let’s just make everything official and avoid any attempted bloodshed. At least for the time being.”

Shaddiq’s smile had faded, disapproval written on his face as he looked at the two of them. Lauda clicked his tongue in anger but unclenched his fists, causing Shaddiq to release him.

“Now, where were we? Oh, right!”

The Grassley heir stood up as straight as possible and cleared his throat before gesturing his hands out to either side.

“Both parties, deposit your souls on Libra’s scales!” His voice was official and authoritative to the point of being a parody. “Secelia Dote and Rouji Chante. Lauda Neill and Felsi Rollo. The location will be the 5th Tactical Testing Sector, and the 2v2 code will apply. Are there any objections?”

All four of them shook their heads, and Shaddiq gestured to Secelia and Rouji.

“If Burion House wins, Mr. Burion will receive the full support of Jeturk Heavy Machinery in the upcoming presidential election, and Jeturk will concede their position in the Benerit Group.” Secelia had just about memorized the stakes Mr. Burion had told them about in a panicked follow-up phone call nearly eight hours after the initial call.

Shaddiq nodded and gestured to Lauda. He cleared his throat, recomposing himself.

“If Jeturk House wins, Burion Company will support Jeturk in the presidential election, and dedicate half its factories to Jeturk mobile suit production. Additionally, Burion will share its research and development data with Jeturk Heavy Machinery.”

Secelia felt Rouji stiffen next to her. Mr. Burion had neglected to tell them the stakes Jeturk was fighting for. If they lost, Burion would almost certainly go under and be absorbed by the Jeturks. Countless people would lose their jobs, Burion students would lose their House, and any Earth fundraising would be shut down instantly. They both swallowed hard, the pressure of the duel suddenly very real and very heavy on their shoulders.

“And!” Lauda’s arm shot forward, one finger pointed directly at Secelia. “If we win, you and your little lackey have to leave Asticassia forever.”

“Deal.” Secelia replied before Rouji could even think about what had been said. “You could at least call him by his actual name, you know. Rouji’s a better pilot than you anyways, you’d think you could spare a little respect.”

Lauda bristled at the subtle insult, but Shaddiq quickly stepped in.

“Alea iacta est. The duel is approved!” He clapped his hands, the smile back on his face. “Now, please don’t kill each other until after the duel. I’m quite excited for this, after all.”
————————————————————————————————————————
“Rise and shine!”

Before Rouji could even process the words, he was assaulted by bright lights. With a grunt he rolled over in bed to see who had decided to wake him up at whatever ungodly hour of the morning this was.

Answer #1: Mr. Burion.

Answer #2: 5:45 AM.

With a stifled sigh, he emerged from the covers and stood before the eccentric CEO of Burion, who looked far too peppy and smiley for this early in the morning.

“Good morning Mr. Chante! Are you ready to see your new mobile suit?”

Mr. Burion’s voice was much too loud, but Rouji found some motivation as he finished his sentence, suddenly feeling like a kid on Christmas morning.

“It’s here? Now?”

“Well of course!” Mr. Burion laughed. “Why else would I be here so early in the morning?”

Rouji, and the rest of Burion House, could probably have written an essay detailing the various reasons that their CEO had shown up at Asticassia well before classes started, but that was less important in his mind compared to the thought of a brand new mobile suit.

“Is Secelia’s here too?”

“Indeed!” Mr. Burion beamed, but quickly dropped into a difficult expression. “And, well…I need you to tell her. I don’t feel comfortable going into the girl’s wing, and I figured you could go for me, because, well…”

The CEO trailed off, leaving an implication that Rouji utterly failed to pick up on. He was instead already moving towards his clothes dresser.

“Ok, that’s fine. Can you…leave so I can change?”

Mr. Burion smiled and turned towards the door.

“Oh! Yes, yes, of course. I’ll meet you both in the hangar.”

After he left, Rouji put his normal school uniform on and made his way towards Secelia’s room. It wasn’t an unfamiliar path, Secelia often invited him to help her with some piloting or mechanical concept she didn’t understand. Today, though, he was filled with nervous energy thinking about all the possibilities for the newest Burion designs.

Keeping his voice low, he pressed the intercom button near Secelia’s door.

“Secelia? Are you awake?”

Nothing. Rouji waited a full minute and was about to reach for the button again when he heard the shuffling of cloth. A couple seconds later, the door slid open, revealing a very tired, very unkempt Secelia dressed in a long tanktop with a faded cartoon character and soft-looking blue and purple pajama pants. Some quiet, ignored part of his brain acknowledged that she still looked very pretty like this.

“I swear to everything in the galaxy, if this isn’t-“

“Mr. Burion is here. The new mobile suits are in the hangar,” Rouji whispered, trying to both pass off the blame and get her past the anger stage quickly.

“I…shit, ok. Give me a second. He can never show up at a normal time, can he?” Secelia said as she turned around, the question essentially being asked to the closing door.

Rouji waited patiently as she got ready, mentally pouring over the data he remembered being asked for by Burion’s mechanics and engineers. How had they incorporated those into the designs? The biggest thing on his mind was what they’d done about the sniper rifle. Rouji’s issue had always been that the standard-issue Burion rifle they gave him was less of a precision weapon and more of a heavy machine gun that fired semi-automatically. It was great for people like Chuatury Panlunch, whose hit-and-run speed was great at putting it into effective range. But Rouji wanted something like the Peil Pharact’s arquebus (to the point that he had to be asked to stop sending data of it to the company servers).

He was roused from his thoughts by Secelia’s door sliding open. She’d made a similar decision to him, wearing her normal school uniform, the only difference being the choice of pants instead of her usual shorts.

“Did Mr. Burion say anything else?” Secelia asked as the two made their way to the elevator.

“No. He just walked into my room and turned the lights on. And then told me to wake you up,” Rouji sighed, absentmindedly rubbing at his forehead.

“If this isn’t worth it, I’m going to punch him,” Secelia let out a similar sigh that turned into a yawn as the elevator stopped at the mobile suit hangar.

“I assure you this will be very worth it, Ms. Dote!” Mr. Burion was standing just a couple of steps from the elevator, hands raised in a gesture of magnificence. Behind him was completely dark, the hangar lights on only near the elevator.

“Behold, the future of Burion mobile suit technology!”

As he spoke, the lights in the hangar flicked on, starting from just behind Mr. Burion and gradually turning on two at a time until the room was flooded with light. The breath caught in the throats of both Rouji and Secelia as the two prototype mobile suits that Mr. Burion had promised them were fully revealed.

On the left stood a towering dark brown mobile suit, its sleek, rounded body streaked with white accents. Its shoulder armor was all brown, the ends slightly upturned, barely concealing small thrusters underneath them. Looking down, Rouji could just see the outline of what looked like a projectile launcher on the backside of each arm. In the middle of its forearms, it had sizable rectangular parts covered by an opaque glass-like material.

These same parts, Rouji noticed, were on the sides of the mobile suit’s upper legs and above the cockpit on the chest. The front skirt armor was massive, nearly fully covering the unit’s upper legs, while the side armor was significantly bulkier but not as wide. Just past the side skirt armor on either side was a booster unit similar to the ones on the Demi Garrison, and the unit’s feet were wide, with 3 talon-like parts at the front and one at the back. Rouji couldn’t see the backpack, but he could see a large, fluted barrel with a massive muzzle break sticking just past the head.

If the rest of the mobile suit was intimidating, the head unit was the bow that tied it all together. It had a flattened white v-fin at the top of a purple visor-like attachment that sat above its dark blue eyes. In contrast to the mostly sleek and round look, the cheek vents were sharp and distinctive, highlighted further by their mostly white look broken up by a section of dark brown that bled down from the top of the head. It went as low as its jawline, then arched over the cheeks and met the jawline again in the back.

It looked exactly like some great bird of prey that stalked the skies of Earth, Rouji thought.

Next to him, Secelia was looking at the mobile suit on Mr. Burion’s right side, a similar look of awe on her face.

This one was much smaller and angular than the one on the left, its arms long and thin and its legs short and stocky. Its feet weren’t as wide as the other mobile suit’s, but they had similar talon-like grips. The legs were dense with armor plating on the front and sides, all painted in a yellow accented with black and white. The waist was less armored, with small panels on the skirt covering the leg joints and a new type of Burion firearm holstered on one of the side panels.

The cockpit was more pronounced than the rest of the chest, surrounded by thicker armor plating that built to an angled plateau on the chest just above the top of the cockpit. In contrast to the accented color scheme of the rest of the unit, the chest was straight yellow, the black and white highlights only creeping in on the sides.

The shoulders of the mobile suit were compact and rectangular, protecting the arm joint and not much else after that. The arms of it were reminiscent of the Lfrith Thorn, but the top sides of them were covered from wrist to halfway past the elbow by large armored bracers. A medium-length, broadsword-shaped blade was extended out of the left arm’s bracer, the hangar lights glinting off the newly-polished metal.

The head of the mobile suit broke from nearly all the design and color scheme notes that the body had set. It was jet-black, the front of it more angled than the back, with a sharp jawline. The face tucked inside the black armor was pure white, purple eyes sharp under the brim of the forehead armor. A yellow crest-like antenna lay at an angle across the top of the head.

As Rouji and Secelia continued staring at the mobile suits in front of them, Mr. Burion beamed and took a step backwards.

“I present to you, MSJ-A001 and A002! For you,” he gestured towards Secelia and the mobile suit on his right. “The Kiskadee! With a triangular thruster system and Burion’s new Wheel Dash Boost, this mobile suit has two retractable blades that vibrate, tearing materials apart at a particle level. It’s faster than fast too, with multiple top-of-the-line thrusters. It also has a new beam rifle with a spray and burst mode, designed for suppressing fire in mind!”

“And for you,” Mr. Burion gestured his left arm towards Rouji and the tall, menacing mobile suit across from him. “The Aplomado! Designed with stable sniping and battlefield control in mind, it’s got stabilizing shoulder thrusters, underarm projectile launchers to fire cluster mines, EMPs, and smoke bombs, and a newly-designed sniper rifle that can fire beams and physical ammunition!”

Rouji shuddered at the last part, the idea of real bullets fired from a mobile suit-sized weapon bringing thousands of fears to his mind. Mr. Burion must have noticed this, very quickly jumping into his next sentence.

“It’s also got a state-of-the-art AI system that can track and mark enemies, as well as adjust shot angles automatically,” he said with a wink to Rouji.” It reads environmental and combat data and feeds them right into the sniper scope and the mobile suit’s UI! Oh, and it’s got a limited camouflage feature!”

The Burion CEO paused, catching his breath after the exhaustive list of Aplomado features. Meanwhile, Rouji and Secelia exchanged dumbfounded glances. The Burion mechanics had gone far and above his expectations, even knowing the data they had asked him for. Rouji didn’t really know what Secelia had expected, she had been too exhausted after their sparring practice, but her face told him that she was full of nervous excitement at the prospect of an even faster mobile suit.

“Well, I hope this turned out to be worth waking up so early for! Now,” Mr. Burion tossed a bagged pilot suit to each of them. “I think you’ll learn better by testing them instead of listening to me drone on about them!”

He walked past the two of them towards the elevator.

“Just…don’t duel one another today. You’ll give those poor mechanics panic attacks if you bust them up before the actual duel tomorrow.”

With a flourish of his hand, he stepped into the elevator and left the two of them alone in the hangar.

Secelia let out a soft laugh of nervous excitement and ripped open the pilot suit’s bagging.

“You heard the man, Rouji.”

She stuck out her fist towards her housemate, a devious smile on her face. Rouji hesitated, but then bumped his own fist against hers.

“Let’s kick Lauda’s smug, stupid ass.”

Chapter Text

Secelia rolled her neck back and forth, a satisfying crack echoing in her ears. She’d been sitting in the cockpit of the Kiskadee for nearly an hour, watching on the camera array as the Burion mechanical team ran through last-minute checks and adjustments. Rouji had been even quieter than usual, leaving her to sit with her thoughts ahead of the biggest duel she’d ever seen at Asticassia.

Her thoughts had mostly been about her new mobile suit, which were probably the most productive idle thoughts she could have been stuck with.

The test run yesterday had been among those most exhilarating experiences in Secelia’s admittedly short life. Mr. Burion had somehow undersold the specs of the Kiskadee, it accelerated at speeds she had never even thought of before and had near-instantaneous cornering abilities. It might as well been floating above the ground as it moved, closing gaps as easily as she walked.

However, the weapons it was equipped with were her favorite part. At first, the idea of swords attached to her arms had been strange, and she didn’t know if it would mesh with her usual fighting style. All those doubts were quickly erased as she got to work, the vibrating blades slicing through the air with the precision of her own body’s movements. The moment Secelia ceased to think of them as weapons and instead thought of them as extensions of her own body was the exact moment it became simple in her mind. Out on that battlefield, there wasn’t a her and and her mobile suit, there was just the Kiskadee, dancing through combat as it sliced enemies to ribbons.

Secelia took another deep breath, trying to fight off the nervousness that threatened to overtake her. The mechanical crew had finished their checks, and Rouji was stepping into the transport container. She followed behind, turning on her microphone.

“How are you feeling?”

She kept her voice low, mostly in an attempt to sound even-keeled and in control. In reality, her heart was pounding and her stomach was in tight knots. They, at the request of Mr. Burion, had staked everything on a duel against the most prolific mobile suit company in the Benerit Group. Their backs were against the wall, with everything to lose and nothing personally to gain. Not to mention that this duel would also be televised, the Asticassia Journalism and Broadcasting Club providing some level of video coverage to not only the campus, but various Benerit-affiliated fronts and parts of Earth as well.

“Confident, but nervous,” Rouji finally replied, his voice soft, but there was a hidden strength to his tone. He had always been somewhat more extroverted and self-assured around her, and when something mechanical was involved, but this felt a little different.

Something about the way Rouji carried himself had changed since he stepped out of the Aplomado’s cockpit for the first time. Secelia had expected him to tell her all about the AI system and how the sniper rifle felt to use, but he’d been nearly completely silent as the two had sat in the prep room after their testing run. It had made her feel a bit more self-conscious, since she had talked about the ins and outs of her Kiskadee for what felt like hours.

Secelia’s mobile suit clicked into position inside the transport container, and soon she and Rouji were hurtling towards the tactical testing sector. She rolled her neck again and rotated her shoulders, trying to eliminate any tightness in her joints before it had a chance to spell her downfall.

The containers grinded to a halt and everything was still. The stillness did not last long, as the voice of Shaddiq rang through the Kiskadee’s cockpit, eliciting a long sigh from Secelia.

“I’m glad all four of you made it in one piece! Now, remember that this duel will go until one side has had both their blade antennas damaged,” he paused, presumably listening to the muffled conversation taking place behind him.

“And as always, targeting the cockpit means immediate expulsion. Other than that, feel free to rip each other to shreds!” Shaddiq said with an uncomfortable amount of glee in his voice, the faint laughs of his Valkyries filling the background.

“Maybe we could if you’d shut up,” Lauda snapped impatiently.

“Then, Mr. Neill, be my guest and start us off,” Shaddiq glee had turned mocking, savoring his role as observer over a duel he had so much personal stake in.

Both Secelia and Rouji knew what it would mean to Shaddiq if Jeturk was completely out of the picture. He feared Guel much more than he did Lauda, and if he could bury his biggest rival without lifting a finger, his path to the Benerit throne would be clearer. As much as Secelia knew this, part of her really wanted to beat the Jeturks into the dirt, even just on the off-chance that their win would do enough for Burion to leapfrog Grassley and line Mr. Burion up to succeed Delling Rembran.

She gripped the Kiskadee’s controls a bit tighter while Lauda spoke, followed by Felsi.

“Lauda Neill, KP013, MD-0064 Darilbalde.”

“Felsi Rollo, LP017, MD-0064 Darilbalde.”

Secelia stiffened slightly in her seat. So the Jeturks did have two Darilbaldes to use for things like this. She had mentally prepared for Felsi to use a Dilanza, like she had in the Rumble Ring, though Rouji had devised a few strategies for two Darilbaldes. Whatever, she thought. It’s just a mobile suit, at the end of the day.

“Secelia Dote, LP025, MSJ–A001 Kiskadee,” she said, the name of her new mobile suit beautifully foreign on her lips.

“Rouji Chante, MP038, MSJ-A002 Aplomado,” Rouji proclaimed, just after her. This time, he sounded fully confident, the nervous edge to his voice replaced with a matureness that was new to Secelia’s ears.

“Both parties, face off!”

The transport containers all clicked open at once, revealing the Kiskadee and Aplomado to the world for the first time. The muzzle break of Rouji’s sniper rifle caught the simulated late-evening light in the 5th tactical testing sector, drawing the attention of the broadcast cameras. The AI-controlled drone cameras captured the mobile suit from all angles, showcasing its long, tail feather-esque thruster channels and armored backpack complete with angled plating jutting out from behind the shoulders. Secelia’s Kiskadee was mostly ignored, the small, yellow mobile suit nowhere near as visually striking as the tall, menacing, and hawk-like Aplomado.

That’s fine, Secelia thought with a defiant smile as she scanned the environment. Let them forget about me.

The 5th tactical testing sector was a fairly rare choice, its unusual layout making for strange fights. Or, in other words, a thoroughly predictable choice for Shaddiq. The terrain itself was a mix of a dense coniferous forest, a sparse, wide-open rocky area split by a deep canyon, and a large lake set right on the border between the two. None of the mobile suits in the duel really had any long-term flight capabilities, but the AI drones of the Darilbalde would have a distinct advantage in reacting instantly to the terrain.

Secelia gave a signal to Rouji and the two began the pre-duel formalities in sync.

“Victory is never decided by mobile suit performance alone.”

Lauda and Felsi followed up just after them, though Lauda spoke slightly faster than his duel partner.

“Nor by the skill of the pilot alone.”

“The result itself is the only truth!” All four voices exclaimed in unison, hands fixed on their mobile suit controls.

Secelia could imagine Shaddiq standing in the middle of the committee room, surrounded by his Valkyries. Henao on the couch to his right. Sabina, diligent and attentive, sitting on the opposite side of her. Maisie sitting in the middle, barely paying attention with Ireesha clinging to her arm. And Renee nearby, lazily checking her phone while sitting exactly where she usually sat. With a wave of his hand, Shaddiq would turn the microphone on, and-

“Fix…release!”

Everything roared into motion at once, all four mobile suits kicking into their first gear. Secelia darted forwards, her thrusters carrying her over the cracked ground and into the thin shrubbery on the outer edge of the forest. Rouji headed in the opposite direction, skirting around the canyon in the middle of their starting area. With a brief flash of the hail signal, Secelia signaled Rouji to open private comm lines for one of the strategies they had devised.

“Keep chatter to a minimum,” Secelia said over their personal radio frequency. It was more of a reminder to herself than him, as he was quiet in high-pressure situations, letting her be the shot-caller. Secelia was the opposite, Rouji frequently making her embarrassingly aware of her tendency to be loud and intense in the middle of combat. “Let’s go with plan two, we’ll audible as they respond.”

She kicked the Kiskadee into a second gear, weaving between tree trunks and reaching her hand down to the beam spray gun. Secelia could feel the momentum and acceleration moving her body at its beck and call, but she didn’t feel the negative effects as intensely. The Kiskadee had been designed with a certain level of g-force management in mind, using a triangular thrust system and overall stability increases to steady the cockpit while the rest of the mobile suit accelerates.

Secelia broke into a clearing in the forest, simulated red-orange sunlight filtering through the needled branches of the trees. She paused and listened to the area around her as she scanned the feeds from her camera array. According to the plan, Rouji had set up somewhere to the left of where their containers had been. Raising the beam spray gun, Secelia gently turned to her right, a faint rustling breaking up the silence of the forest.

Springing into motion as the sound approached, Secelia darted backwards and filled the air with the report of the beam spray gun. The beams ripped through the foliage, but none of them hit home on her unidentified company.

Everything was still again, but only for a moment as a bright red limb shot towards Secelia, its deep purple beam saber aimed at her shooting arm.

-

Rouji confirmed the battle plan and watched as Secelia jetted into the dense green of the forest, quickly becoming a streak of yellow and black. He split into the opposite direction, finding a spot among a chest-high outcrop of rocks and tough shrubbery. He reached one of the Aplomado’s manipulators back and found the handle of his unit’s sniper rifle, hefting it out of its holster and to the front of his unit.

The engineering team at Burion had very clearly taken his notes about the Peil arquebus into consideration. The rifle was huge, and a deep, jet-black from stock to barrel. It was reminiscent of old Earthian sniper rifles, with the sides being angled slightly before meeting a fluted section of the barrel to vent some of the firing heat. Past that section, it had a foldable bipod before the barrel thinned out, eventually ending in a large, rectangular muzzle break. The middle of the body had a physical magazine slotted in, while a large-capacity battery sat in the sizable stock of the rifle. And finally, on the rails sat a long scope, the top of it covered by a similar shell unit to the ones on the Aplomado’s legs, arms, and chest.

With a deep breath, Rouji steadied the rifle and activated the sniper assistance AI onboard the Aplomado. The control panels in front of him bathed the cockpit in red, green, and white lights as the OS synced with the rifle scope. A large circular icon appeared on the screen, with the mobile suit name in small text above the name of the sniper rifle and the AI system.
Alethe.

Rouji pressed the button and the feed from the sniper rifle’s scope popped onto the Aplomado’s display. At a magnification of 100x, he saw Secelia let loose a barrage of beams from her own rifle, burning away some of the dense foliage. She had encountered something. Rouji lined up a shot towards the singed pine trees, waiting with bated breath for something to cross into his line of sight.

All the shell units on the Aplomado began emitting a soft, burnt orange glow as he aimed, and the assistance AI dinged, marking a small target cutting through the forest. As he watched it blip closer to the Kiskadee, Rouji’s fingers gently bounced on the buttons of his control stick. With another deep breath, he got a lock on the target, a backpack drone from one of the Darilbaldes. 20 meters. 10 meters. 5 meters.

Rouji pulled the trigger, the charging mechanism readying a beam in one moment and unleashing it down the barrel of the Alethe in the next. A streak of super-charged energy ripped over the rocky terrain and into the forest, perfectly placed between the tree trunks in-between the Alethe and its prey. As the rifle kicked back with recoil, the beam stayed true and punched through its target.

Well, maybe “punched” wasn’t exactly accurate. The beam was nearly the same size as the saber emitter on the drone unit, and as such it sheered the entire part off, the remaining part exploding as the rest of the beam burned out.

Rouji deactivated the AI and immediately kicked his thrusters back on, the Alethe against his chest as he made his way back to where the transport containers had dropped them at.

-

Secelia instinctively dodged as the Darilbalde’s drone headed for her, attaching the beam spray gun to a waist holster as she feinted away from the beam saber. As she went to make a cut back to her original direction, a sniper rifle report split the air and a green beam tore through the trees and destroyed the drone assailing her.

As the smoke from the explosion settled, Secelia kicked right into the Kiskadee’s second gear and blazed back through the forest towards the starting point.

“Great shot, Rouji! You ready to keep it up?” Secelia breathlessly asked her partner as the trees blurred past her.

“Yes. Ready for the response,” Rouji replied, an evenness to his voice that very much contrasted her own adrenaline-fueled question.

It was reassuring, truth be told. He’d planned most of their tactics for the duel, and if he was confident, Secelia saw no reason she shouldn’t be.

The response phase of their opening shot was almost upon them, and Secelia flicked out the left arm of her mobile suit, extending the concealed tyrant blade above the wrist. She could hear the Darilbaldes crashing behind her, which said that one of the Jeturk pilots had been nearby, waiting to strike had the other’s drone managed to reach her. Secelia smirked at that thought; Rouji had already correctly anticipated part of their opponent’s strategy.

The Kiskadee broke through the treeline, a little closer to the large lake than she had been on her way into the forest. Secelia spotted Rouji, his mobile suit a hundred or so meters away and headed towards a pile of rocks. As she skirted the lake’s shoreline, the two Darilbaldes exited the forest, a less than comfortable gap between them and the Kiskadee. But they were all in a wide-open space now, exactly what this part of the strategy had called for.

As the lead Darilbalde readied its beam javelin, Secelia turned and feathered her thrusters as she dropped back into first gear. She let her opponent take the first move, reading their javelin thrust as it zeroed in on the Kiskadee’s shoulder.

With a button press, the tyrant blade began to vibrate, emitting a high-pitched whine as the intense, fast motion began to blur its image to the naked eye. The beam tip of the javelin got closer, and Secelia swung the blade upwards, catching the javelin in the middle and deflecting it away from her. Both Darilbaldes paused, gazes fixed on Secelia’s Kiskadee.

“What a fancy toy you’ve got there,” a male voice came over the intercom, its owner in the cockpit of the rear Darilbalde. “If only you weren’t in a 2v1 at this range. A shame, you seemed to be a half-decent pilot.”

Secelia smiled to herself and extended the other tyrant blade, the Kiskadee now looking less like a mobile suit and more like a meat grinder, blades overtaking its arms.

“2v1? Oh Lauda, you’re so cocky. Whatever would make you think you have an advantage? I’m more than enough for your oversized red monstrosities,” she taunted as she pointed her weapons at each of her opponent’s heads.

Rouji had actually incorporated her sharp tongue into their strategy, giving her time to ad-lib barbs in the hopes of both buying time for him to find vantage points, and to enrage Lauda into making a mistake. So far, it was working, and it made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside to kick Lauda’s bruises.

Secelia kicked her thrusters on again and lunged at the lead Darilbalde, which was missing one of its Isvara drones. She swung her left blade, keeping the Kiskadee low to the ground as the vibrating weapon swung for the legs of Felsi’s mobile suit.

A drone-controlled beam kunai from Lauda’s separated javelin stopped her attempt, the force behind the beam blade and the vibrating blade rejecting each other sending the Kiskadee spinning to the right side of the Darilbalde, the other tyrant blade kicking up dust. Secelia took the deflection in stride, using the foot-mounted thrusters to redirect her momentum and jet forward with stunning acceleration, now aiming for the backs of Felsi’s knees.

Felsi’s Darilbalde pivoted and dipped to the left as Lauda went right, nearly going over the shoulder of his duel partner with his beam anchor angled downward. The tyrant blade met the beam javelin first, and Secelia used her backpack thrusters to push against the locked blades, driving Felsi back. She left her backside open, however, and Lauda brought the anchor down, aiming for the joint of the right leg. All the sensors in her cockpit blared warning sirens, but she was too committed to the attack at this point. Adrenaline raised her voice and she hit the first comm button she could find.

“ROUJI!”

Secelia’s slightly panicked scream/command echoed in the cockpits of all four combatants, but the response was only for her ears.

“I know.”

Another beam rifle report cracked the air, and with a flash of green, the right elbow of Lauda’s Darilbalde exploded as the high-powered beam cut through it. The beam anchor clattered to the ground and Secelia pushed Felsi further back, the Darilbalde unable to offset the force of the Kiskadee’s thrusters.

-

Rouji immediately took aim again, the burnt orange glow glinting off of the rocks around him as the simulated sun began to sink lower and lower. He watched as Secelia used her blade to push Felsi back into the forest, while Lauda scattered his backpack Isvara drones alongside the one from his destroyed arm and looked for the source of the beam. The targeting AI marked the three drones, their beam sabers active, and Rouji watched as the Darilbalde’s AI attempted to find his location.

While they searched, Rouji began lining up a shot near Lauda’s head, careful to avoid a lock-on that would reveal his location. As he steadied the Alethe, however, both Isvara drones turned and started streaking towards the Aplomado. Rouji adjusted instantaneously, quickly getting a lock onto one of them and lightly tapping the trigger as the rifle recharged. The drones closed in, the AI dinged, and Rouji squeezed the trigger button.

As soon as the drone exploded, Rouji kicked the Aplomado’s shoulder thrusters on and manuevered to his right, shifting the Alethe into one hand. He reached the mobile suit’s free hand back and found the beam pistol store stored on the side of the backpack. The second drone fell to the ground and exploded, two well-placed shots to the midsection putting it out of commission.

There would be no rest, however, as Lauda’s Darilbalde, its beam javelin back in its hand, began to close the gap, calling back his remaining attack drone at the same time. Rouji peppered his pursuer with shots from the head-mounted beam vulcans, but Lauda’s Ambika drones scrambled and shrugged off the low-powered barrage. He was pushing the Aplomado back, the advantage heavily in the Jeturk’s favor as Rouji emptied the beam pistol’s battery, every shot finding either air or a drone shield. There was no space to steady the Alethe for a shot that would cut down an Ambika drone, and Rouji knew the deep canyon was getting closer and closer.

-

Secelia and Felsi smashed through low-hanging tree branches and into another small clearing. With a hard shove of the tyrant blade, she sent Felsi’s Darilbalde careening into the trunk of a pine tree. Secelia raised both blades and charged towards her stunned opponent.

With a heavy swing, the Kiskadee’s left arm sliced towards the Darilbalde’s head while the right went for the knees of the red mobile suit.

At the last second, an Ambika drone jumped in front of the left tyrant blade. A horrible, ear-shredding sound filled the air as the metal of the shield was rended open, the vibrations of Secelia’s sword bending and splintering it like it were made of plastic. It fell to the ground, its AI connection severed.

The right-hand blade connected, ripping through one mechanical knee joint and then the next in quick succession. The Darilbalde, with Felsi still trying to recover, dropped to the forest floor as the Kiskadee’s arms finished their follow-through. A quick burst of her thrusters, and Secelia was on the opposite side of the clearing, blade aimed at the head of the crumpled Darilbalde.

“You and your shit-eating CEO will never be enough!” Secelia yelled, pure adrenaline overtaking her. Felsi said nothing, and Secelia wondered why exactly she had even agreed to help Lauda.

It was clear to everyone where Felsi’s affiliations within Jeturk lay. Even before he had vanished, she hadn’t made it a secret that Guel was one of the only people in Jeturk House that she actually cared about. After he disappeared, she’d barely spoken to anyone not named Petra and was generally disinterested and sulky. Secelia didn’t even feel satisfied beating her. Felsi clearly didn’t have any love for Jeturk as a company, and she was actually nice to be around, unlike the unbearable “lions” that ran the house. But there was no room for that kind of softness in a duel, and so Secelia quashed it.

She charged, the Kiskadee’s feet not touching the dirt as it became a blur to the naked eye, just a streak of yellow with a blade that bent the air around it. The Darilbalde’s damaged AI tried to send whatever it could at its attacker, but it simply wasn’t fast enough, and the drones found only air. With a half-hearted pull of its thrusters, Felsi’s Darilbalde rose and sluggishly maneuvered to its right, just as the Kiskadee began to swing the tyrant blade.

The arcing slash went from left to right, first ripping through the elbow joint of the Darilbalde. Next, it cut through the upper shoulder, sending Felsi slamming against the side of her cockpit. And with a final effort, the tyrant blade shredded the cheek of the mobile suit’s head and flicked upward.

The red horn of the Darilbalde snapped as the arm of the Kiskadee jerked skyward. It flew straight up in the air as Secelia stood over the slumped and defeated pride of the Jeturk factories, her tyrant blade pointed at the last vestiges of simulated sunlight. She felt something hot drip onto her lip and tasted iron.

“Just a little bit more…”

Did she know if she was talking to herself or the Kiskadee? Not really, and by the time part of her brain thought about if that mattered, Secelia was already streaking towards the next battlefield, blood from her nose forming lines of pseudo-war paint across her cheeks.

-

Rouji was running out of space.

Lauda was unbelievably close behind him, the thrusters of the Darilbalde being pushed to their absolute limit as Rouji swerved and dipped in every which direction. The Alethe was pressed against the Aplomado’s chest, the distance (or lack thereof), rendering it as useful as a heavy chunk of steel.

“Rouji!”

Secelia’s voice, nervousness creeping in, boomed into the cockpit and nearly made him jump out of his seat.

“Secelia! What’s the situation?”

“Felsi’s out of commission. It’s just Lauda now. Have you managed anything?”

“He’s down to two attack and two defense drones, but…” Rouji sighed deeply, his fingers still glued to the controls. “He’s pushing me back towards the canyon. I can’t get the space to line up a shot with my rifle.”

“Hmmm…” Secelia fell silent as she thought. “Divert him towards the little area between the lake and the canyon. Use whatever you’ve got, just make sure he doesn’t flank you.”

“I…got it, will do.”

Rouji pulled a hard left, catching Lauda by surprise and buying himself a slightly larger gap as the Darilbalde pulled a slower turn to keep chase. The lake was slowly coming into view, a blur of yellow streaking towards the shoreline. Rouji scanned the buttons in the cockpit, trying to decide which option would swing the chase in his favor.

Finally, he flipped a switch to its upward position, hearing mechanical whirring in both of the Aplomado’s arms. After a few seconds, a trigger flashed green and he gave it a decisive pull, pointing the wrists of his mobile suit at the ground underneath him.

Two circular objects launched from the tubes mounted on the Aplomado’s wrists, small spikes causing them to dig into the softer ground near the lake. As Lauda, still chasing the massive dark-brown mobile suit, stepped into the area Rouji had just been over, the two objects exploded, scattering dust and chunks of earth into a cloud around the Darilbalde.

As Lauda began to move again, the dust still obscuring his vision, the cloud suddenly filled with countless smaller explosions, rocking the Darilbalde and kicking even more dust into the air. Rouji allowed his battle-facade to crack a bit and did a little fist-pump, the Aplomado now on the chunk of land that separated the canyon and the lake. He flipped the switch to the downward position and watched as Secelia moved along the shoreline, nearly a blur and just skating on the ground, all thrusters propelling her towards the dust cloud that consumed Lauda’s Darilbalde.

Secelia’s Kiskadee entered the cloud and soon departed it, the momentum of her mobile suit clearing the area enough to see Lauda again. One of the large drone-controlled shields had been cleanly severed from its spot on the shoulder. It lay on the pockmarked ground, the metal and wires neatly cut by Secelia’s weaponry. Already the Kiskadee had turned around and was headed for another attack.

“Maneuver four!”

Understanding that shout didn't take any guesswork, for once. With another pull of the green trigger, a bottle-sized projectile shot from the left-arm launcher towards the Darilbalde. It began to arc down a few inches before the mobile suit, and Secelia sliced it right down the middle with one of her tyrant blades.

Smoke once again filled the area surrounding Lauda, concealing the Kiskadee from his view. He felt something crash against his mobile suit and in the next second, the smoke was gone again.

Secelia had the other Ambika drone impaled on her left-hand blade when she turned around for another pass. With an aggressive flick of the Kiskadee’s arm, the metal split further and it slid off the sword, clattering to the dirt a couple feet from Secelia. He had one left on his backpack, and one good arm to wield the beam javelin with. Desperation would start kicking in.

As Lauda kicked the Darilbalde back into motion, his attention locked onto the Kiskadee, Rouji steadied the Alethe in front of him. The Aplomado’s shell units took on an orange glow again and he used the scope’s feed to watch as Lauda and Secelia crossed blades.

Even with just one arm, Lauda commanded the beam javelin with a masterful finesse, the neon green of the edge giving a faint glow to the darkened shoreline. Secelia was forced to use one blade to trade blows while the other shooed away his remaining drone. They were inching closer and closer to the water, the powerful swings of the beam javelin slowly but surely luring Lauda into thinking he had the position advantage.

Rouji began to line up a shot, happy to finally use the Alethe on a locked target again.

“Secelia, use the water as a distraction,” he directed calmly.

Rouji watched as Secelia kicked the foot thrusters of the Kiskadee on and pulled off a tight 180, heading onto the surface of the lake. She kicked up large waves in her wake, maneuvering in a wide arch as both Lauda and his final drone waited, unsure of what to do next.

That was his window. With a pull of the trigger, the end of the Alethe erupted in a streak of green, a beam splitting the air and punching through the backpack of the Darilbalde.

Off-target. The red mobile suit had managed to dip away at the last second and take the brunt of the beam elsewhere. Lauda stumbled, the explosion of the backpack rocking him forward before he could kick back into motion. He recovered and dashed forward unsteadily, beam javelin pointed towards Rouji’s little slice of land as his leg thrusters put in overtime. Secelia broke her path and blazed towards the shoreline, on a path to cut Lauda off.

Rouji took a deep breath. His rifle was still recharging, and he certainly couldn’t skate across the water like Secelia was. To his back was the canyon, too deep to get out of if he fell. However, he just might be able to…

As he ran through possible solutions, Secelia’s blade side-swiped Lauda’s, halting his forward progress. The two were on a fairly equal plane, Secelia attacking with both tyrant blades and Lauda deflecting each one. Each time he got a little too close with a follow-up, she drove him back with her beam vulcans.

A little chime echoed around the dim cockpit of the Aplomado, signifying to Rouji that it was time to put his plan into action. It wasn’t one from the planning session with Secelia. In fact, Rouji distinctly remembered her saying that she would “kick his ass to Mercury and back” if he even thought about it. They had no clue about the limits of the Aplomado’s thrusters, and all too much of a clue about the depth of that canyon. But he needed more space for an accurate lock on Lauda’s Darilbalde.

And, well…the rule of cool was weighing heavily into consideration here, too.

He kicked on his thrusters and went backwards, towards the lip of the canyon. Just before he went over, Rouji engaged every thruster on the Aplomado and lifted off the ground, soaring diagonally over the chasm.

The last of Lauda’s drones streaked from his side, ready to pursue the now-airborne mobile suit. With a determined jab, Secelia took one of her blades away from the engagement with the Darilbalde and sent it through the middle of the Isvara drone.

That action cost her. Lauda capitalized on the distraction and sent the tip of the beam javelin straight through the Kiskadee’s other shoulder, severing it from the body. Lauda shot backwards and aimed the weapon at the jet-black head of Secelia’s mobile suit, while she brought her remaining armblade in front of her, ready to deflect the attack.

As Lauda lunged forward, Rouji took his shot. The Alethe was laid across the Aplomado’s frame as his upward trajectory continued. It wasn’t a perfect lock, and if Lauda did anything unexpected, it was certain to miss. But it was his shot, no matter the outcome.

As the Darilbalde moved, Rouji gave the trigger another pull, the last one of this beam magazine. Set to the highest allowable output given the Asticassia program, it was a truly massive beam, the force of it giving the Aplomado even more backwards momentum. The projectile moved in what seemed like slow motion to Rouji, its green light bathing the immediate area in its glow. The beam and the Darilbalde creeped ever closer to each other as Rouji rocketed away from both.

Finally, the beam, one of the Alethe’s ravenous, subservient hunting hawks, found purchase. It consumed the head of the Jeturk’s mobile suit, leaving nothing but vaporized metal as it punched through and fizzled out in the dirt. Lauda’s mobile suit took the brunt of the force that the head couldn’t absorb and spun into the ground, crashing hard onto its side.

At the same time, Rouji cleared the opposite edge of the canyon, crashing hard back-first onto the rocky ground. As he stared upwards in a daze, the artificial night vanished, replaced with sunshine and a sight he would later realize he enjoyed quite a lot: a digital banner declaring him a winner.

The adrenaline steadily drained from his body and the thoughts about the quite honestly stupid as hell maneuver he had just pulled off quickly occupied its place. But it had WORKED! The Aplomado had soared as gracefully as the hawk it was named for, clearing the canyon and still being steady enough to eviscerate the head of Lauda’s mobile suit. Did Rouji’s back hate him for that landing? Yes, as did the rest of his body, painfully aware of how sore he knew he’d be tomorrow. But victors get rest and ice baths, or however the old Earthian saying went.

With a grunt, Rouji gripped the controls again and levered the Aplomado back to a standing position, returning the Alethe to its holster. As he did, the Kiskadee, scratched and missing an arm, pulled up next to him.

-

Secelia couldn’t tell if the blood on her knuckles and normal suit had come from her nose or from the beam javelin jab throwing her every which way in the cockpit. But, if she was being fully honest, it didn’t really matter to her.

They had won! All those tactics they had practiced, all the notes Rouji had made, they had all made a difference and now, Burion was poised to be a big player in the Benerit Group. Secelia could hardly contain her excitement as she jammed her finger against the comm button.

“Rouji! We did it! How are you feeling in there?”

“I’m fine, just a few bumps,” he replied after a few seconds, a half-grunt half-sigh emphasizing his point. “ We took out two Darilbaldes! I…really can’t believe the strength of these mobile suits. The spec sheets are one thing, but seeing them in action…wow.”

Rouji sounded a lot more like the mechanics-obsessed freshman he had been when Secelia had first met him, a thought that made her smile. His stoic, confident battle persona was certainly cool, and she couldn’t help but admit that his more socially anxious side was cute, but Secelia appreciated being able to see him like this the most. At the end of the day, he was her underclassman, and she felt a certain duty to let him be that wide-eyed, excited version of himself as much as possible.

“Secelia? Are you coming with?”

Rouji’s voice shook her from that train of thought, denying her the chance to use her post-battle clarity to define those thoughts a little further.

“Ah, uh, yea, I’ll follow you back. Sorry, I’m a little banged up,” she responded with a little fake laugh, falling behind the Aplomado at a leisurely pace.

When they had finally disembarked from their mobile suits back in the Burion House hanger, Mr. Burion was waiting with open arms, a giant smile plastered on his features.

“Simply marvelous! You two put on a show out there!” Mr. Burion wrapped each of them in an excited one-armed hug. “You were so in-sync, I’m so glad the new mobile suits were so well-tuned for your skills!”

“Thank you, Mr. Burion. We couldn’t have done it without your help,” Secelia tried her best to convey her genuine appreciation through the wave of fatigue that had slammed into her as soon as she was back on the ground. High g-forces, as she quickly learned, have a real nasty habit of taxing your whole body without as much as a warning until you stopped moving. Right now she wanted nothing more than to sink into a hot bath and then sleep for the rest of the week, but if she didn’t get checked over by a nurse, Rouji would certainly drag her with him and make a fuss.

Next to her, still in the CEO’s congratulatory embrace, Rouji kept looking at her. Or, well, the blood she still had all over her. It had all dried now, but her normal suit had crimson streaked all over it and she had lines of dried, flaking blood running from her nose to her jaw. Some of it had come from a cut high up on her cheek, likely from crashing against something after Lauda severed the Kiskadee’s arm, but the rest was nothing special.

Secelia wondered when she had become accepting of repeatedly bursting the blood vessels in her nose and other body parts. The first time it had happened, she remembered freaking out, putting an instant end to the training session and rushing to the doctor. Eventually it stopped being a concern to her, the feeling of her own blood rolling down her face becoming a sign that she was giving her all.

“Yes, it was really incredible to use those units in a real duel,” Rouji’s response was a little stiff, a more formal tone to his voice. “Sorry, but we both need to get going. We’re both a little worn down.”

Mr. Burion quickly released the two of them, an apologetic look on his face.

“Oh! Yes, yes of course, the hard-earned rest of the victors and all that! I have some matters to attend to myself, now that the Burion presidential candidacy is off the ground! Let us talk later, my talented pilots!”

With a wave and a smile, the ever-eccentric CEO of Burion pivoted on his heel and headed for the elevator, security guards in tow.

Secelia let her upper body slacken, head hung in surrender to her tiredness.

“Lets go and get the medical once-over done with. I feel like I’m going to crumble into dust if I don’t lay down soon.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------

Unlike the earlier, artificial twilight of the testing sector, night was now beginning to fall upon Asticassia’s campus. Mr. Burion, dressed in his typical tan two-piece suit and multicolored tie (this one had various little birds patterned on it. He had picked it out specifically for today, after all), leisurely strolled the walkways leading towards the Grassley dormitory. It had taken a little bit of convincing to get his security detail to let him walk the campus unattended, but finally he could walk free.

And oh boy did this meeting need that. Mr. Burion never did care for the political subterfuge of the Group, it was much too cloak & dagger for his taste. But with a serious chance at a chunk of power, and a major rival hanging off the edge of a chasm, he needed to get that one extra push to cement his position.

He stepped into the common area of the Grassley building and was immediately approached by a bored-looking girl with gray-blue hair. She was dressed in the standard Asticassia uniform, with a pair of three-quarters length black leggings being the exception to her visual uniformity. One of her eyes was covered by her bangs, while the other seemed to stare through him. She certainly had a peculiar air to her, Mr. Burion thought as she scrolled something on her phone.

“Mr. Burion, correct?”

Her voice was actually about what he’d expected, which was unexpected in itself, given how strange it felt to be in her presence.

“That’s me!” Mr. Burion pushed against the girl’s unsettling aura with his own eccentric positivity.

“Follow me, Shaddiq has been expecting you,” the girl turned on one foot and headed down the left hallway, Mr. Burion’s cheeriness not fazing her in the slightest.

As he followed her through the clean purple and white hallways of the dormitory, he noticed one more personal addition to the school uniform.

A holstered beam magnum on her right hip, barely visible under her dark turquoise jacket.

“I assure you, Mr. Burion…you’ll only get hurt if Shaddiq gets hurt.”

The tone of her voice chilled his blood, her words somehow perfectly audible despite having her back towards him.

The walk to the conference room was uncomfortably quiet after that, Mr. Burion building back the confidence that had been torn down by this exceedingly strange bodyguard/student/friend of Shaddiq’s, or whatever she was.

Walking into the spacious and half-lit conference room, Mr. Burion immediately noticed four more girls sitting around the room, partially obscured by the swathes of shadows on the outer edges. One thing was plainly visible though: all four had similar beam magnums resting on their hips, the same promise as earlier glinting off the handles.

“Mr. Burion! I’m so glad you could make it!” Shaddiq’s voice echoed around the room, his signature friendliness seemingly dialed up to 11. “First, I really must thank you for allowing such an enjoyable duel to take place! I think there’s no doubt about Burion’s mobile suit manufacturing abilities, personally.”

Mr. Burion had very quickly learned that this whole schtick was Shaddiq’s bread and butter. He had a toxic sort of charisma and kindness that could entrap the easily manipulated, bending them into whatever shape he desired. Essentially, he was born to be a politician of some sort.

However, I’m a little too old to be sweet-talked by a brat, Mr. Burion thought.

“Why, that’s certainly a strong vote of confidence! My thanks to you for officiating the duel, I know you must be very busy, what with the day-to-day management of Grassley Defense Systems now falling onto your lap and all that.”

It was a subtle jab, everyone in the Benerit Group had heard the whispers surrounding Sarius Zenelli’s disappearance and had formed their own ideas about the upstart blonde and the way he had seamlessly eased into control of Grassley. Which also meant he had heard all sorts of similar implications.

“Oh, yes, it’s certainly been taxing,” the Zenelli heir gave a wide, genuine smile and gazed around the room before looking up at the purple-haired girl to his back left. “But these five have been so helpful with that!”

As he spoke, the girl with purple hair stared hard at Mr. Burion, her sharp, golden eyes conveying no clear emotion as she subtly shifted her body. The chrome handle of her beam magnum caught the light as she moved, the message crystal-clear to Mr. Burion. These were not a normal gaggle of schoolgirls flocking to be around a popular boy, not even close.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve adjusted so smoothly!” Mr. Burion faked a smile, anxious to get to the heart of the matter at this point. “I thought it would be beneficial to talk a little bit about the presidential race, now that the results of the duel are final.”

“I’d love to! You and Lauda were so fiery at the meeting last week, and now that you’ve done something for me, it’s only fair,” Shaddiq’s face still wore that closed-eye smile as he straightened his posture and tented his fingers. “What were you thinking, Mr. Burion?”

“If I may be blunt, we both know the path the Group is headed down right now. Delling Rembran is unlikely to ever return to his previous power, the Jeturks are practically an after-thought, and now with the return of these Gundams, Cathedra, Dominicus, and the Space Assembly League are all breathing down our neck,” Mr. Burion made small gestures with his hands as he spoke, finding a mental groove and following it. “The Rembran heiress is caught up in a schoolchildren’s game with a backwater Gundam pilot, while also playing CEO with her lofty ideals. There’s no reason to think that we couldn’t just, well, sweep through the presidential race and dispel any misconceptions about Benerit’s lack of internal control, shall we say. We’ve got a prime opportunity here, Mr. Zenelli.”

Shaddiq absentmindedly scratched at his chin, rolling his neck as he mulled the proposition. This was a good start, Mr. Burion thought to himself. He had a foot in the door, what he needed now was to find the home run pitch.

“If I were to agree, what exactly would that entail, Mr. Burion?” Shaddiq finally asked, fixing him with an analytical gaze.

“Ah, well it’s simple, really. You are the current chair of Grassley Defense Systems, and I am the CEO of Burion Company. That alone affords us a lot of leverage.”

Mr. Burion leaned forward in his chair, sweeping his hands from side to side like there was a graph in front of him.

“Now consider that Jeturk Heavy Machinery is essentially done for, and that the old women at Peil have no desire to put Mr. Ceres on the public stage. The only real names in the race now are you and I, and Miss Rembran. I certainly wouldn’t want to deal with the political posturing and subterfuge involved with being the head of the Group, and I can’t imagine you want to add that to your plate, either. A combined front is a strong front, as they say, and there’s really no doubt in my mind that the two of us could easily win against Miss Rembran. Just imagine, a new age of prosperity for the entire system, built by Grassley and Burion mobile suits!”

“It’s certainly an intriguing offer, I’ll grant you that much. But you rely on a lot of hope,” Shaddiq leaned forward, tapping his fingertips together idly. “Are you certain about anything?”

“In fact, I am! It’s basic politicking, after all. For now, it works in our best interests to act independently as we amass support. After our supporter bases are established, whichever of us is in the lead will receive the support of the other. From there, it’s a hop, skip, and a jump to control of the entire Group!” Mr. Burion was beaming at Shaddiq, laying out the full extent of his plan. “And, as another favor to you, I can even lay out my ambitions, Mr. Zenelli. You know, just to alleviate any notions that I may try to end the world or anything grandiose like that.”

Mr. Burion chuckled and leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up.

“I have no interest in this game that Delling has set up with his daughter as the prize. And I can tell you my two pilots have no interest as well. In fact, Miss Rembran is of no concern after the presidential race, but Delling’s stipulations are still in effect. So, Miss Rembran is all yours. I’ll even help you beat that Mercurian Gundam, if you’d like. Burion students take extensive notes, after all.”

This caused Shaddiq to sit up, the calculating look leaving his face as the true weight of Mr. Burion’s words sank in. His home run pitch had been taken out of the park.

Though, Mr. Burion felt a few pairs of eyes lock onto him, malevolence seeping from the shadows of the room. So there was still a little romantic jealousy in Shaddiq’s group of bodyguards after all.

“Alright, Mr. Burion,” Shaddiq said, suddenly standing up. “Your proposal is of great interest to me, despite the lack of…ironclad details, shall we say.”

Mr. Burion stood up as well, meeting Shaddiq in the middle. He was about a forehead taller than the Zenelli heir, but Shaddiq carried himself as if he towered over the entire room. For all of his youth, this blonde-haired upstart had a presence to him that Mr. Burion hadn’t seen often in the long history of the Benerit Group. A presence that could be carefully and precisely honed.

“Ah, well it’s really a small thing, I have the utmost faith in everyone involved. And what’s a deal without any trust, after all?”

“How right you are, Mr. Burion,” Shaddiq grinned and held out a hand. “To a future shaped by our hands?”

“To a future shaped by our hands.”

Mr. Burion gave the Zenelli heir a firm handshake, studying his face. No hesitance, but also none of the telltale signs of a faked promise. If he had a poker face, he certainly hadn’t learned it from Sarius.

“And, of course, I’ll be in contact to further hammer out the details of this little agreement. For now, though, I wish you luck in your campaign!”

“Same to you. Would you like Ms. Jazz to escort you back to the lobby?” Shaddiq motioned to the bored-looking girl standing just at the edge of the lit portion of the meeting room.

“Oh, no, no, I think I can get back myself,” Mr. Burion smiled, desperately quashing the fear of another moment alone with that girl. “I couldn’t possibly trouble you any further.”

Shaddiq simply smiled as the girl stepped backwards, leaning against the wall once again. Mr. Burion quickly excused himself and stepped into the hallway, relaxing his shoulders and hurrying down the stairs and back into the artificial atmosphere of Asticassia. That room had been uncomfortably oppressive, through no effort of Shaddiq himself.

Mr. Burion had been in negotiations with warlords and presidents, bodyguards and trust fund kids, but not a single one had prepared him for the sheer aura of those five girls Shaddiq kept by his side. Something instinctively told him that they would not hesitate to follow through on any ask the Zenelli heir had of them, and that they would perform the task quickly, cleanly, and silently.

Mr. Burion summed his thoughts up in one concise and quietly muttered statement:

“God help anyone who isn’t their ally…”

———————————————————————————————————

“The time is now 5:30 PM. The next orbital shuttle leaves in 30 minutes.”

A robotic, female voice announced the information to the scattered groups of people in the orbital elevator station. A couple of them began to migrate towards the terminal, scrolling their phones and generally paying little attention to their surroundings.

A tall man with a brilliant shock of pink hair just above his forehead looked up at the digital clock. He was dressed in a white hooded sweatshirt, a black canvas backpack draped over his shoulder.
He sighed and meandered over towards a seat on the far wall, a television screen mounted on a column across from him. Setting his bag on his lap, he leaned back and stared at the blemishless ceiling.

Home, he thought as a couple more people filed into the station. It had been a long time since he’d had the luxury of thinking about going home. How much had changed since he’d left, he wondered. Well, how much in addition to the obvious.

The man shut his eyes, images of a large black mobile suit piercing the cockpit of another flashing through the darkness that covered his vision. Then it exploded and his eyes shot open again.

He was ready to return and try to set things right. He felt the immense weight of responsibility on his shoulders, not just because of what his own two hands had done, but also for what his actions had caused to unravel. For one, there were the duties that had fallen to his brother because of his absence. There were also all the friends he’d left with no information. They had looked up to him, and he needed to repay that kindness. And finally, there was a girl, because well, there’s always a girl. He needed to finally talk with her seriously and get some things off his chest.

Above all else, Earth had made him realize how sheltered and ignorant his whole upbringing had been. He knew now that he was in a prime position to make the wrongs right, while honoring the legacy of his father. He would be better, because there simply was no other choice.

“And now, new at 5:30, an update on the ongoing Benerit Group presidential race and the shuffling of its member companies.”

The TV across from him returned from a commercial break and caught his ear. He stood up, all his attention focused on the newscaster.

“Earlier today, in a televised duel at the Asticassia School of Technology, two students representing the Burion Company defeated the current Jeturk Heavy Machinery CEO Lauda Neill and another Jeturk student.”

As the newscaster spoke, a video of one of the testing sectors at Asticassia popped up next to her. A yellow mobile suit that he didn’t recognize lunged at a fallen Darilbalde, its armblade cutting through the red armor and slicing through its head. Next, a massive, heavily armored dark brown mobile suit fired an equally massive rifle as it arched through the air, the beam completely consuming the head of another Darilbalde. The video was like a punch to the gut, and he couldn’t breathe properly. The news anchor continued, oblivious to this.

“The stakes of this duel were not made public, though we are told they involved both Burion Company’s presidential candidacy and the standing of Jeturk Heavy Machinery. Lauda Neill has yet to comment on the loss and the future of Jeturk, though it’s believed that the company will lose access to the Group’s funding pool and may become a minor company, or lose the support of the Group altogether.”

The man stood frozen in place, unable to comprehend the news segment that had just shattered whatever hopes and goals he had finally landed on. And still, the broadcast continued.

“In other Jeturk Heavy Machinery news, we’re told that the first of several strikes ordered by Jeturk CEO Lauda Neill against Dawn of Fold bases on Earth has taken place. The strike occurred around 11 PM local time yesterday and involved a force of multiple company’s mobile suits against a facility believed to manufacture equipment for the Earthian terrorists. Early reports indicate a successful destruction of the facility and the resistance that was encountered, though at least one Benerit Zowort was destroyed.”

Now, the lack of comprehension was replaced with a simmering pool of rage in his gut as the newscast showed footage that he had experienced first hand. The indiscriminate firing on the Dawn of Fold refugee camp, the deaths of people he knew at the orders of what had been his company, and the abhorrent spin on it all. He felt his hands curl into fists as the news anchor’s reading of “a facility believed to manufacture equipment” echoed in his ears.

With an abrupt turn on his heel, the man stormed out of the orbital station, nearly running over a couple loitering by the doors. He was able to get his breathing somewhat under control as he stood in the evening air. With a deep breath, he opened his backpack, removed the phone he had bought earlier in the day, his last-ever use of the Jeturk company cards, and looked through the rest of the bag’s contents.

It was all he had managed to grab during his hurried departure from Asticassia. ID, a wallet, assorted reminders of family and friends, and a copy of a corporate management advice book that Lauda had given him with high recommendations and a friendly jab on the inside cover.

He reached into the bag once more and grabbed a metal necklace inlaid with several brilliant chunks of amber, and a little handmade charm of a stoic lion next to a dog with gold and brown fur. He tucked them both into his pocket and closed the backpack.

Then, with a rage-fueled wind-up, he launched the backpack into the lake next to the orbital station and turned his back on it all.

Jeturk Heavy Machinery was dead. His family was all but dead. And that meant his name was dead. There was nothing left for him up the gravity well. But he could start over and make a difference here. And he would, even if he had to destroy the remnants of what his father and brother had built.

Chapter Text

Something moved against Secelia’s shoulder and she sluggishly turned her head, eyes blinking sleep away as the rest of her woke up.

Looking over, she saw a head of messy blue hair, its owner curled up against her side. His face was calm and still, fast asleep despite Secelia’s movements. With a sigh, she adjusted her arm and pulled him a little bit closer, doing her best to let her housemate keep sleeping.

Secelia knew how much he needed it as of late. It had been a week since the duel against Jeturk and two days since classes had resumed following the Rumble Ring, and part of every one of those days had consisted of battle training, film review, and studying for classes. She’d barely even seen him, their usual post-training recovery time being preempted by asks from the mechanical students and even the actual Burion mechanics to bolster their technical sheets on various mobile suits.

The part that frustrated Secelia the most was the fame and notoriety she and Rouji had gained from their crushing of the Jeturk House and company. They were known across campus now, both by a rapidly-growing fanbase and an even faster-growing list of opponents. They’d already been challenged twice each and once as a duo. Some were asked to do so by their parent companies, a political gamble in the unstable climate of the Group, and others just wanted to experience the thrill of the fight. Those were the ones Secelia liked fighting the most, crossing blades with an opponent who wanted nothing more than to beat her because they thought it would be fun.

Rouji didn't take the same kind of joy in his challenges, likely due to the limitations of his Aplomado’s particular role. And yet he had found a way to use his opponents’s preconceptions about him to pull off spectacular things in the testing sectors. He’d gained some “cool points” (a term Rouji had told her, eliciting a loud groan out of her) with groups around Asticassia for the ways he maneuvered his heavily armored mobile suit into unpredictable sniping lanes and landed seemingly impossible shots with the Alethe. Secelia was not as impressed, her stomach turning as she watched him take some extraordinary risks to do something she knew he could do normally. She WOULD be upset, if only he didn’t apologize in such a cutely awkward way every time.

That was another part of the new popularity she didn’t much care for, Secelia thought as she looked down at her exhausted housemate curled against her body.

People were starting to ask questions.

She did not particularly want to answer said questions.

People took her annoyed outbursts as answers to those questions.

She got more anxious and, in turn, more annoyed every time people asked the question for her.

A part of Secelia really just wanted to scream to the world about how none of it mattered to her. They were close enough to do things like this and trust the other to have their back in a fight, what difference did a label make? But at the same time she just couldn’t shake the intrusive thoughts asking her if what she thought was just a delusion. Secelia had tried to make her feelings as transparent as her anxiety would let her, but she still couldn’t tell what Rouji thought.

The other, more aggravating part, was that Secelia could barely formulate what she actually thought. She liked spending time with him, liked being able to see the sides of him that nobody else saw, and she felt a strong urge to keep him safe from the much darker side of Spacian politics she knew all too well. But the idea of combining that into those three supposedly simple words was like molten lava to her brain. The thoughts about the potential aftermath of saying it clashed in her mind, one screaming about rejection and futility, the other about losing everything she had acquired to this point. And she felt like the only one who would lose in that battle.

Secelia relaxed into the couch even more, Rouji’s head practically resting on her chest as she slid further down in her spot. She felt a little upset at herself, letting those thoughts infect one of the places she relied on for inner peace.

She had two of them, consistent and reliable in their special kind of calm. One was the cockpit of the Kiskadee, both at rest and in motion. In there, it was her and the mechanical workings of something that was undeniably hers, nothing more and nothing less. At rest, Secelia felt the soothing comfort of its systems, reading out everything it heard and saw and felt at a relaxed pace. It felt like a conversation to her, a leisurely back-and-forth with a childhood friend. In motion, it was her and the unrivaled adrenaline and ecstasy that came with the speed and power contained in the Kiskadee’s frame. At those g-forces, there was nothing extraneous to think about. If you let your mind wander for even a second, you were done for. Secelia reveled in that intensity, turning it into raw kinetic power as she thought only about shredding metal and wire and hydraulics with what had mentally become her fists. And in the heat of that intensity, the conversation turned into competing war cries, the systems of the Kiskadee screaming their information at Secelia. It was an unmatched bliss that cleared her mind of anything difficult.

The other place was right here, in moments exactly like this one. The location didn’t particularly matter, just as long as it was a comfortable couch with someone she cared about next to her. They didn’t have to talk about anything, or even give the other their undivided attention, all that was necessary was a comfortable spot and a friend (yes, friend. That was a comfortable label, Secelia thought). If every moment could be as quiet and free of annoyances like this one was, she’d probably need less time in the Kiskadee.

Secelia sighed and reached her free arm across her body, gently stroking Rouji’s messy hair. If life could be this easy, her path here would’ve been different. His, too, or at least she assumed. Rouji didn’t talk about his upbringing. He was on good terms with his family, judging by the phone calls she often overheard. She also knew that the Chante family wasn’t a huge player in Burion’s structure, a technology firm that employed a small but talented team of OS and UI programmers. Maybe it was because he was a middle child, but everything she’d heard and been told led Secelia to believe that Rouji had lived a quiet but free childhood, allowed to explore his interests and the world at his own pace.

Wording it like that made her jealous, Secelia realized. He was nearly the opposite of her in that regard. Rigid schedules, lessons on manners and etiquette, arranged relationships, it all made bile rise in her throat just thinking about it. The Dote family, well…it was better that she had found an excuse to leave.

Beneath her idly-moving hand, she felt her housemate begin to stir. Secelia tried her best to act a little more casual, letting her hand rest on the top of the couch and staring into the distance. Rouji blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings before looking up at Secelia, his voice quiet and tired.

“What time is it?”

She had to stop herself from laughing. After all her racing thoughts and her horrible job at acting like she hadn’t been running her fingers through his hair, that was the first thing he had to say. She couldn’t help but feel an incredible mix of emotions as she stared back into his tired purple eyes. Her mind was at war with itself, trying to spur her into action in some way, but her body acted before a decision could be made and she stood up, offering Rouji a hand.

“It’s nearly 7. Let’s go and find something to eat, alright?”

“But…the guys in the mechanical department wanted my h-”

Rouji’s objection was cut off by Secelia pulling him to his feet and towards the prep room exit.

“They can wait. You got out of training and immediately fell asleep for three hours, you’re going to go and get something to eat with me,” she kept her tone light, but still had a firm hold on his wrist, even if he was unlikely to try and escape. “And I’ve actually gotten to talk to you maybe twice this entire week, so we’re gonna have some ‘us’ time, I’m mandating it.”

Rouji, still trying to fully wake up, opened his mouth to counter, but shut it as the realization that he would not win this argument sank in. Instead, he fell into step with Secelia, walking besides her to whatever place on campus was still open.

—————————————

“Are you going to sulk in there all day, or are we going to get something to eat?”

An impatient girl with spiky light brown hair stood in front of a tightly-closed dorm room door, her hand hovering over the intercom button. She was dressed in a yellow jacket with fluffy white trim on the collar and sleeves, covering a plain gray shirt and matched with a knee-length pleated black skirt. She jammed her finger against the button again.

“You know that shutting yourself away doesn’t help anything, right Petra?” She stared at the floor and added in a lower voice: “Believe me, I know.”

Yet still nothing came from the other side of the door.

How in the hell did she end up being the one trying to get her friend to do anything, Felsi Rollo wondered. Petra hadn’t even been in the duel! SHE had been the one to get her ass kicked by those weird new
mobile suits, and she had to deal with the fallout of their admittedly pretty spectacular loss. Felsi was still sore in like three different places because of those goddamned blades of Secelia’s mobile suit. Meanwhile, all Petra had done was sit in the Jeturk command room and watch.

That wasn’t really her fault, since Lauda had stubbornly planned the entire duel and not allowed any of the mechanical or management students to help devise in-combat strategies. But still! Part of Felsi really felt like Petra should be the one treating her to dinner tonight, but right now she’d be happy just to get her to come to the restaurant.

This time, the irritated, spiky-haired girl slammed her fist against the door, opting to just try and shout through the material.

“Petra if you don’t get out of your room I’m going to find a way to tear down every wall of it!”

A girl down the hall who had just stepped into view shot Felsi a dirty look that she completely ignored as she brought her fist back to slam against the door again.

“Do you ever shut up, Felsi?”

The door slid open, revealing a makeup-free, messy-haired Petra Itta dressed in a wrinkled pair of gray pajama bottoms and a baggy shirt with a cartoon character on it. Her voice was slightly hoarse and tinged with annoyance.

“Maybe if you had decided to answer me after one of the first thirty times,” Felsi retorted, relaxing her arms and narrowing her eyes at her friend.

“You could take the hint,” Petra fired back immediately, but she sounded a little more upbeat this time.

“Hell no! You wouldn’t take any hints when I was acting like you, why would I ever take them from you?” Felsi gave her friend a little smirk and walked into her room. “And anyways, we always go and eat together on Fridays. I’m not letting you skip out on that just because you’re all in your feelings or whatever. Now, c’mon and put some real clothes on.”

“You suck, you know that?” Petra closed the door again and turned the overhead light on, rummaging through her closet for something to wear.

“Yea, well so do you. I’m still injured, y’know!” Felsi laughed and tossed a pink button-up shirt at Petra’s back, getting it to drape over her left shoulder.

“For someone with such grievous battle injuries, you sure bashed your hand against my door pretty well.” Petra turned around and grabbed the shirt off of her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“I think it would be cute! You bought that on one of our first shopping trips as students here, remember? Try it with this,” Felsi held up a simple white skirt with a belt-like part wrapping around the top, buttoning it in the front. She tossed it underhand to Petra and turned around to let her change.

Thirty minutes later, the two of them were out on the walkways of Asticassia, still bustling with students despite all that had happened. They’d returned to a sense of near-normalcy now, the Benerit Group presidential race pushing away any thoughts of the Rumble Ring. A large part of that, Felsi grumbled internally, was the unprecedented cratering of Jeturk’s position. She heard the whispers whenever a member of the Jeturk House was seen around campus, wondering how long they would last at the school.

She’d mostly tuned it out, the actual status of Jeturk as a company meaning little to her as of late. Felsi cared in the sense that it was Guel’s family’s company, but without him here (and with the awful way he got kicked out of the house because of that shitty Mercurian pilot), the rest didn’t really affect her.

Felsi and Petra stopped in front of a small restaurant tucked between two larger shopping hubs. It was a place Felsi had picked out specifically, a recommendation from Guel when she had first arrived at Asticassia. Run by students from a smaller house with a focus on supplies and management, the signs in the window advertised cuisine like that of a place on Earth called Vietnam. Walking inside, the smell of spices and noodles hit Felsi’s nose almost instantaneously, pulling her to the nearest booth and reaching for the menu. Petra followed, a little more upbeat than she’d been in her room, but still noticeably reserved and quiet. As the two of them scanned their menus, Felsi piped up, a smile creeping onto her face.

“So, are you glad you came out tonight? I dunno about you, but everything sounds amazing.”

With a sigh, Petra angled the menu down, still not able to bring herself to smile.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m just…worried. Lauda left so suddenly and he’s got so much to deal with. I…I wish he’d let me be there to help him out.”

It was Felsi’s turn to sigh, though she hid it with a faked yawn. Lauda had suddenly left Asticassia, putting his education on an indefinite pause to handle his now full-time CEO responsibilities. She could only be a little pissed at him for leaving Petra basically in the dark, though. She WAS better off here, not only because Felsi thought Lauda was going to run himself and anyone around him straight into the ground, but also because, with the state of Jeturk, an education would help Petra much more than playing secretary with her crush as part of a dying company.

“I know it sucks, but he does have a point. It’s more important to graduate, just in case the worst-case happens, you know?” Felsi reached a hand out, gently putting it over Petra’s as she spoke. “He does need you, but in a different way. You can be his rock, the safety net he needs as he works through this rough patch.”

Felsi didn’t believe a single goddamn word of what she was saying, but nevertheless, Petra’s face brightened as her perspective changed.

“I…yea, ok! I’ve just gotta keep studying and waiting, and he’ll ask me to go to Jeturk and help him more!”

Petra gave Felsi a big, genuine smile that melted into a deep blush as she kept talking.

“And maybe, while we’re working together, he’ll be at the office late, and I’ll bring him some tea, and he’ll look at me, and tell me he loves me, and then he’ll kiss me, and…”

It took Felsi an extraordinary amount of willpower to stop herself from slamming her forehead against the table in front of her. Far be it from her to criticize the ramblings of someone in love (she likely acted about as ridiculously when she talked about Guel), but if there had ever been a time to knock some sense into her best friend, it was certainly now. Instead she just sighed and gently slapped Petra’s hand.

“You’re a bit of an idiot, you know? But yes, be patient and let Lauda handle all the CEO stuff.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Felsi spotted the waitress approaching their table and set her menu down.

“So now, just enjoy the night and relax a little! I’ll even cover your dinner.”

Petra put a grateful smile back on and the two of them ordered in quick succession. A large bowl of beef pho and a mango bubble tea for Felsi and a spicy beef and pork soup with a pot of the kitchen’s homemade tea for Petra. Their food came out fast and they quickly dug into their meals, idly chatting about what Petra had missed while locking herself into her room.

As Felsi was finishing the noodles in her pho, Petra’s phone rang. She hesitantly picked it up, her face turning from confusion to pure delight as she looked at the screen. Nearly dropping it into her soup, Petra tapped the screen and brought it to her ear.

“Lauda?! What’s happening? Is everything ok? Do you ne-”

Felsi sighed as her friend stumbled over her words. Speak of the goddamned devil. Couldn’t have the decency to call days ago, but made sure to interrupt their dinner.

“Oh, yea, Felsi’s here. What’s happening?”

A pause, and Petra set the phone on the table, tapping the speaker button.

“Ok, you’re on speaker now. What do you need from us?”

Lauda cleared his throat before speaking.

“Hi Petra, Felsi. I hope you’ve both been well. Felsi, I hope you weren’t hurt badly during the duel. I apologize for letting them split us up. That was my fault.”

Felsi fought back an annoyed scoff. She hadn’t been really hurt, just some scratches and bruises, but it was so nice of him to actually say something a week after the fact. Especially after he had been SO personable after the loss, stomping through the hangar, slamming his helmet on every surface imaginable, and screaming at her completely unprompted.

“I’m doing well, thanks,” she replied in a fake cheery tone. “How’s everything at the company headquarters?”

Lauda made another awkward throat-clearing, audibly shifting in his chair.

“That’s…actually what I wanted to talk about. I know I asked Petra to stay at Asticassia, but, well, the situation is changing. We’re in an ‘all hands on deck’ situation and I need people I can trust by my side.”

Petra’s face was slowly brightening, her expectations for this conversation swelling as the CEO kept talking. Felsi, on the other hand, was growing weary of it already. This wasn’t normal Lauda talking, this was “battlefield mastermind” Lauda, just from his tone and careful selecting of his words. Nothing about the direction of this request pointed to anything good, but she let Lauda keep talking.

“We’re not in a bad spot now, per say, but with the election coming up, we’ve been forced into a position where we need to provide fast, powerful results to prove Jeturk’s worth to the Burion contingent. As such, I’d like to get some of our best upperclassmen to bolster the employee ranks.”

Lauda paused, Petra hanging on his every word. Felsi was once again resisting the urge to do something dramatic and exit this conversation.

“Petra, I’d like you to come and continue being my right-hand woman. You did a fantastic job and I’d like your input on some mechanical details on the next prototype. Felsi, we need a skilled pilot, and nobody else at Jeturk has as much experience or battlefield awareness as you do.”

Yea, he was certainly acting like he did before the duel with Burion, Felsi thought with a gross feeling in her stomach. So rehearsed and sure of his own success, and once again not thinking of anybody else but himself. It was sickening to watch Petra lap up his hollow praise. She spoke up before Petra could agree for the both of them.

“If you’re looking for as much help as possible, what’s the status on the search for Guel? Surely you’d want him to be a part of the Jeturk rebirth, right?”

Felsi’s question was not asked in a particularly kind way, she knew how Lauda felt about his brother as of late. But she needed answers, and provoking Lauda was probably the best way to get even some of those.

“While it would be preferred to have Guel here,” Lauda’s voice was even but slow, taking his time to word whatever excuse he was about to make. “Recent discoveries and occurrences have made it…unfeasible right now. It’s part of why I’m asking for Jeturk students to join the company’s ranks.”

Felsi felt her body as a whole pause, the implications of his sentence causing her heart to rise in her throat. He was hiding something.

“What exactly does that mean, Lauda?”

Her voice was icy, teetering on the edge of a low, angry growl. Petra’s excitement had vanished as the tension at the table approached a tangible state.

“We…near Quinharbor’s orbital shuttle, Guel’s ID card was recovered on the shore of a lake in a waterlogged backpack. As it stands now…the manpower and resources necessary to conduct a search of the estimated area is beyond the scope of Jeturk. We’ve had to divert most of our remaining fina-“

“How long?”

Felsi cut Lauda off, inching even closer to that guttural growl trying to take hold of her.

“Pardon me?”

Even Lauda was detecting the danger in the conversation, snapping out of his rehearsed manner of speaking. Good, Felsi thought. He still knows how to be scared.

“How long have you known about this?”

Lauda was quiet for several long moments, his nervous swallow audible over the phone microphone.

“It was brought to my desk about…five days ago.”

Felsi dropped her gaze, closing her eyes as she gave herself over to the rage that had steadily built up during the phone call. Gently, she slid out of the booth and stood up at the front of the table. With a smooth motion, she pulled her Jeturk-issued credit card from a pocket and threw it on top of Petra’s phone. Felsi stared down her friend, a nervous fear reflected in her normally easy-going brown eyes.

‘I told you the meal was on me,” she said shortly before fixing her gaze on the phone. “And you…go find another pilot. I want nothing to do with your goddamned sinking ship. Go fuck yourself.”
Felsi turned away from the table.

“And Petra…I hope you can realize the path this arrogant, stupid asshole is trying to lead you down, before it’s too late.”

Before Petra or Lauda could find a response, Felsi was already out of the restaurant and back into Asticassia’s simulated night. She pushed past couples and friend groups out loitering on the pathways, her footfalls heavy and determined as she crossed the campus towards the Jeturk dorm.

Inside she was bubbling over with white-hot anger. Lauda had always been a little difficult to deal with, his stubbornness manifesting in a much different way than Guel’s. But she knew how much Petra cared for him, and so she put up with him. That had been her only reasoning for agreeing to the duel in the first place, truthfully. This, however, was a new level to his callousness.

Five days. FIVE. “Not enough resources” my ass, Felsi thought. She wasn’t dumb; if Lauda was able to keep Guel out of the picture, he would retain sole control of the company. Judging by the news, they had the resources for a strike against the Dawn of Fold, after all.

Felsi stopped in the middle of the walkway. Where had that strike taken place, again? She held her breath as she ran a search on her phone.

“Occurred around 11 PM local…involved a force of…a facility believed to manufacture equipment…” she muttered to herself as she skimmed the web article. “The strike force met resistance from a camp near Quinharbor…”

Her stomach churned and her dinner threatened to make a reappearance. With a shuddering breath, Felsi broke into a sprint and stormed into the Jeturk dorm common area, nearly bulldozing a freshman loitering by the stairs. Pulling her room door open, she tore through her closets, hastily filling a bag with clothing and important items. She couldn’t stand to be at this school any longer, and with whatever Lauda was planning, she wouldn’t be here much longer no matter what.

After she had filled her bag with a couple outfits and mementos, Felsi threw one of her heavier jackets on, her selection fulfilling the criteria of being comfortable and not emblazoned with a Jeturk logo. She slid open a desk drawer and reached to the back of it, peeling off an envelope taped to the top of it. Her contingency plan that had required only a little bit of criminal activity.

A disposable plastic bank card, a product of some very persuasive begging of Felsi’s parents, along with some minor wire fraud against Jeturk Heavy Machinery’s accounts. It had more money on it than she had personally possessed in her entire life, some of it a gift from the Rollo’s personal wealth, and the rest of it acquired through minor transfers from the student fund Jeturk allocated to every student in their house. Since Guel had vanished, she had started making small, infrequent transactions using the student fund and diverting them into the card’s account. Never enough to trip any major failsafes, just enough to add up over time and be written off as a minor mobile game addiction, or a fast food splurge.

Truthfully, Felsi was quite proud of what she had been able to pull off. With this, she could fund just about whatever she needed on Earth, and provide for Guel if- no, WHEN, she found him. She slid the card into her ID holder, replacing her Asticassia student ID, and stepped back into the hallway.

On her way out of the dorm, Felsi stopped in the communal kitchen. She was thankful that it was empty, since she was about to look very crazy. With a flourish, she grabbed the scissors from the knife block on the countertop and neatly snipped her plastic ID card to shreds. When it was sufficiently unrecognizable, Felsi took the scraps and the fob to her room and tucked them inside the unmarked envelope her bank card had been in.

She walked out the front doors of the Jeturk dorm for the last time, tucking the envelope in a shelf behind the front desk on her way out. Pulling her jacket’s hood over her head, Felsi set out for the orbital shuttle station, determined but freer than she had been in months.

There was nothing left at Asticassia for her anymore. There was nothing left in Jeturk Heavy Machinery for her. Both might as well be dead to her, she thought. Felsi was ready to leave everything on the opposite side of the gravity well and make a difference somewhere besides the sinking ship she had been trapped on. And so, she set out for Earth.

For Quinharbor.

For Guel.

—————————————

For being a glorified meeting room of a front, the accommodations here are surprisingly robust, Mr. Burion thought as he sat in a plush, red armchair. It made a day of meetings and campaign strategizing much easier to recover from. That, and a bottle of wine from the complimentary room service, of course. He lazily reached for the tablet with the room service menu and looked it over, adding whatever sounded good to his order.

Smoked salmon with a selection of broiled vegetables? Sure! Freshly-made bread rolls? Absolutely, wheat was a little hard to come by in the fronts he frequented. Another bottle of this delicious 110 AD vintage merlot? Yes please! Mr. Burion sent in his order and kicked his feet up, loosening his royal blue tie and shrugging off his black suit jacket.

Things were progressing well, in fact better than he had anticipated. The decisive victory by the Kiskadee and Aplomado had left the rest of the Group speechless. An unprecedented dispatching of two Darilbaldes, accompanied by Mr. Burion’s promise of an entire line of mobile suits just like his A-series, had won him immense support and ballooned his standing among the major players. Some of the legacy companies had been swayed by Jeturk’s backing, their foolish faith in history playing to his advantage. Grassley was still pretending to be harsh competition, while Peil had yet to throw their weight behind anyone. From the whispers around the meeting, they were dealing with something internally, anyways.

The biggest issue was Ms. Rembran. She had the support of some major corporations, plus Delling Rembran’s loyal circle, and because of her Mercurian bride, Prospera Mercury and the small, backwater companies were supporting her as well. Mr. Burion knew he didn’t need to swing everyone, but he certainly needed one of those groups currently pledged to Rembran.

He was levering himself out of the armchair when a knock on the door made him pause. The room service here is some kind of fast, the Burion CEO laughed to himself and casually strolled to get his food.

Swinging the door open, Mr. Burion smiled and started a greeting, only to have the words stolen from his mouth.

A face clad in chrome, with bottomless blue pits for eyes and a sinister smile adorned with red lipstick lay in wait just beyond the heavy oaken door. With a bottle of wine in one hand, she stepped past Mr. Burion and into the room.

“It’s delightful to see you again, Mr. Burion. You’ve certainly made a name for yourself since the last time we met.”

The woman’s voice was venomously sweet, talking with an air of complete control and dominance as she waltzed around the lavish room, pouring two glasses of the wine she brought with her.

“I’m sorry I only have the wine with me, they’re still cooking down in the kitchen,” the woman smiled as she sat in the chair he had vacated less than a minute ago.

“Prospera, how…good to see you, and what a pleasant surprise it is as well,” Mr. Burion forced a smile. “I thought you had left after the Group meeting.”

“I almost did, but I heard you were staying the night, and well,” Prospera Mercury, the CEO of Shin Sei Development Corporation, paused to sip from her wine, the glass clinking off her mask. “I had the sudden urge to catch up. Come on now, have a seat, and don’t forget your glass.”

Nothing seemed as it should, and Mr. Burion could feel it crawling under his skin. And yet, despite the flashing caution lights in his head, he grabbed the remaining wineglass and sat on the edge of the bed.

“The Prospera Mercury I remember wasn’t one for ‘catching up’, you know?”

The woman laughed, an unsettling sound in the quiet room.

“Tine has a way of changing people, my dear friend.”

She still wore a smile, but her tone dropped slightly, like something in her own words had made her angry. A sip of wine later, and it was gone like it hadn’t ever been there.

“I was hoping to catch up a little bit, but if you’re in such a hurry to get to business, we can.”

The wineglass made a gentle thud as she placed it on the desk beside her. Prospera interlocked her fingers and met Mr. Burion’s gaze with the unblemished blue eyes of her mask.

“What exactly do you think you are doing here?”

Her words had all the bluntness of a sledgehammer, and nearly the same amount of weight behind them.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What is your goal, Mr. Burion? Why are you making a grab for the throne now? And what do you think you’re going to accomplish with the Zenelli heir?”

The Burion CEO nearly dropped his glass. What in the name of hell did SHE think she was doing? He very nearly let that retort slip, but saved himself with a gulp of wine that nearly went down the wrong pipe. He cleared his throat and set the wineglass on the nightstand beside him.

“I’m running for president because the Benerit Group needs strong leadership now. We can’t wait for school-aged brats to learn the ropes with the League breathing down our neck. As for Zenelli, I’ve only had formal communication with him, as he is still my opponent.”

“Oh, very good, that statement will do great in the media. Now, if you could actually answer the questions I asked, I’d appreciate it.”

Prospera’s voice dripped with sarcasm, and her ominous smile dropped back to a straight line, lips pursed in annoyance.

“Who knows, it may just help your position.”

The air in the room was taking on a dangerous edge. Prospera very clearly knew much more than she was supposed to, and would not hesitate to use any of it against him. The strange part of it all was that she hadn’t already done so. Instead she was here, demanding an explanation. At least some parts of her hadn’t changed, Mr. Burion thought dryly.

“I suppose if you must know…I despise Jeturk, Grassley, and Peil. The entire system would be far better off if they had no power,” Mr. Burion leaned forward, his fingertips tapping against themselves nervously. “They’re archaic war profiteers with end-goals solely focused on their bottom lines, no matter what way they want to dress that fact up. In the end, I want to bring them all down, and reform the Benerit Group from the ground-up, using Burion as its blueprint. Mobile suit and permet technologies will go nowhere if the people advancing it are obsessed with waging war.”

Prospera sat in silence, the mask not letting Mr. Burion see if she was looking at him or staring somewhere else entirely. After an uncomfortable amount of time, she spoke, her voice low but emotionally even.

“And you believe you are the best choice to lead this reformation? The company that gave a student a rifle with anti-material capabilities? You believe you’re different from the rest of the Group?”

“Prospera, you know as well as I do that the reformation of something such as the Group will not be a clean affair. There must be contingencies in place, ways of quelling those who won’t be persuaded. After all, I’ve seen what you’ve done with that Gundam of yours.”

Mr. Burion grinned in spite of the barb about the Alethe as the Shin Sei CEO mulled his words over. Her thinking soon brought her to an unnerving smile, and she spoke, something darker woven into her tone now.

“How right you are, Mr. Burion. How much about the Aerial do you think you understand?”

He rummaged through his mind, trying to recall specifics from Chante’s technical sheet.

“Obviously it’s a Gundam, capable of remote attacks with its 11 bit staves. It can reach a score high enough to negate Grassley’s Antidote attacks, yet its pilot, your daughter, has yet to suffer any of the data storm exposure side effects that the GUND Format carries with it. She also, according to my own pilots, exhibits none of the emotional traits compatible with the excessive displays of force she displays while piloting the Gundam. In fact, she’s very socially awkward and anxious, quite strange for a pilot who is considered to be ruthless and has very nearly broken campus regulations. Am I missing anything?”

The entire time he spoke, Prospera’s smile was curling into a knowing smirk, and it looked like she was on the verge of laughing when he finished. But then he blinked and she had composed herself.

“You’ve done your homework, I see. Yes, I did design the Aerial with the same idea in mind, so it’s not my place to judge your methods, I suppose. To get back on topic, your plan does intrigue me.”

“I’m happy to hear that. And now, I must turn the question back to you: what is it that you’re trying to do? Your daughter is tied at the hip with GUND-ARM and Ms. Rembran’s presidential candidacy, yet you sound like you’re planning to change who you’re backing,” Mr. Burion leaned back as far as he could, taking another sip from his wine now that he was back in control of the conversation.

“You’re as sharp as I remember, Mr. Burion. As I said, your end goal is of interest to me, for one particular reason: I share it, alongside a distaste for the Rembrans. Suletta may be in line to marry Ms. Rembran, but she is her own person, and I must fulfill my own goals. Should that involve supporting a company other than GUND-ARM, so be it. And as of now, you are the one best positioned to alter the Group. Since we seem to have a common objective, I’d like to offer the support of Shin Sei and its associate companies to your presidential campaign,” Prospera paused to finish her glass of wine, the overall mood tracking back to some semblance of conversational. “However, you didn't answer one of my questions. You said you despised Grassley, yet you’ve struck some sort of deal with Sarius’ heir. Why?”

Mr. Burion smiled again, hardly believing the way things were falling into place.

“Oh, well that’s simple! He is not Sarius. He has the charisma and the mind, but he isn’t a pathetic, white-collar warmonger. He’s got potential, and goals that may be even larger than either of ours. I want to mold him into someone capable of leading the Group in my stead.”

“I see. I’ll trust you on that and leave it to you, then. I look forward to working with you again, Mr. Burion.”

Mr. Burion finished his own glass and casually pointed at Prospera, something popping into his mind.

“There is one thing I’d like to ask of you, for the future health of this collaboration. While this Holder game is meaningless to my pilots and I, Mr. Zenelli still holds it in high regard, and it would seem he has a particular interest in Ms. Rembran. If you could hinder the Gundam in some way, that would help this whole process come together quite smoothly, I think.”

Prospera thought for a moment, absentmindedly rubbing at her cheek before answering with a subtle smile.

“Yes, I think I can help Shaddiq claim his prize. I think it was about time my daughter came back to my side, regardless.”

The second sentence was added quietly, more like a personal note than anything meant for Mr. Burion to hear. And yet, he felt compelled to comment on the sentiment towards her daughter.

“I do hope she won’t take it too hard. You’re quite the thoughtful mother, already planning to help her through this.”

Prospera looked genuinely confused, the corners of her mouth turned downwards as she thought about his words. She stayed like that, the gaze of her chrome mask directed at the wall next to Mr. Burion.

“You are missing one important detail in your notes on Aerial.”

She suddenly stood up, crossing the room and standing over him, her right arm slamming against the bed’s backboard.

“Aerial is my daughter. You’ll come to understand that she is the final result of our plan for reformation. Suletta will be fine, not having Eri overshadowing her experience at Asticassia will be good for her. So you can tell Shaddiq that he will have his bride, while I will have my daughter beside me as the four of us change this world.”

Prospera’s voice had taken on some otherworldly quality to Mr. Burion, a deep malevolence lurking in her words. As he opened his mouth to give form to one of the many questions in his head, the CEO of Shin Sei grabbed the edge of her mask and pushed it upwards, the mechanism causing it to lift fully off of her face.

Mr. Burion stared into a pit of blue that very much had a bottom this time, passionate fury and a painful, maternal love swirling in the depths of Prospera’s eyes. She spoke as her gaze bored holes into Mr. Burion’s being, exposing him to a torrent of indescribable emotion and decades of what he could only parse as some sort of deep, aged pain.

“Ericht Samaya will return to what was taken from her. It is our job to prepare the stage for the welcoming.”

—————————————

“Shut up! Stay away from me, you fucking Spacian bastard! I hate your stupid guts.”

“Soyyyyy un perdedor.”

The response was sing-song in nature, and the blue-haired girl who had been shouting lunged with a pencil in her hand, rage focused at a blonde-haired boy who sidestepped with ease.

“So why don’t you kill me,” he said with a smile, singing the foreign words in tune with something only he heard.

Nika Nanaura turned away as the girl tried over and over again to stab the blonde figurehead of the Peil House, each time being thwarted by a quick movement to the side.

She was tucked well into a corner, sitting atop a number of large storage bins that had been left in what had become a prison for three. She wasn’t overly friendly with her “cellmates”, considering that one was a completely unfamiliar person wearing a familiar face and the other was an Earthian terrorist who she had once been painfully close with, and then had beaten her half to death.

Those two descriptors of the angry, sullen blue-haired girl were the main reasons why Nika had spent the last nearly two weeks nestled against the wall, watching Elan Ceres poke and prod at Norea du Noc until she started yelling and threatening him. As the two of them ran through what had become their daily routine, Nika ran back through her path to this room.

It started with the reappearance of Norea, someone Nika had been close with in the past. She couldn’t admit it to anyone, as they had both been orphans with the Dawn of Fold, but her blood had run cold seeing the blue-haired girl and her companion, Sophie Pulone. Things quickly got much worse than she had even thought possible, as Norea and Sophia had laid waste to the Rumble Ring, and she had tried to fix what she had wrought.

That was when those subservient Valkyries of Shaddiq Zenelli’s had taken her and locked her up here with Norea, who wasn’t happy to see her and proceeded to brutalize Nika until she thought her heart would give out.

She probably would’ve actually died there, if the only member of Grassley House she actually somewhat liked hadn’t stepped in. And then even that had gone wrong, with Sabina Fardin using medical care as an attempt to recruit her to Grassley’s cause. So instead she sat there with her arm in a sling and the rest of her bruised, battered, and probably also broken in several places, her current spot in the crook of the wall one of the only positions where she didn’t feel the pain as much.

In summary, I am tired, hurt, and sad, Nika thought succinctly, as if she was laying out the specifications of a mobile suit or new machine. She missed her friends at Earth House, and felt terrible for making them worry. And every passing day made her more scared for her own wellbeing. She was an asset that had nearly gone rogue, eventually Shaddiq would deem her a liability and wash his hands of her, once and for all.

Those thoughts threatened to overwhelm Nika again, like they did on a nearly daily basis, and so she turned to the TV mounted on the wall. It had become her only friend, both because of its welcome distraction and because of the news ticker that told her the time and the date.

Nika remembered every broadcast since she had been thrown into the room, recalling each story from them to keep herself from freaking out. The day she had been confined, the news had all been about the Rumble Ring. That continued for another two days before news of a presidential race in the Benerit Group and a duel between Jeturk and Burion occupied the headlines. That had been her favorite day, with every broadcast full of the duel footage. She’d seen it live, but being able to see it again set Nika’s mind ablaze as she thought about the inner workings of Burion’s gorgeous new mobile suits. There was nothing she wanted more than to march right to Secelia and Rouji and ask them to study the suits from top to bottom. Knowing they were so close yet so far from her reach was agony.

After that, it had been wall-to-wall coverage of Burion’s victory and the dizzying fall of Jeturk, but with the early results of the Benerit presidential race coming in soon, Nika didn’t know what to expect today. That was an ecstatic, new thing to feel in a room where everything was the same all the time.

Across the room, Norea and Elan had both run out of energy, Norea breathing heavily as she leaned up against a storage bin. Elan had draped himself over the arm of the couch, just watching the Earthian girl without saying anything.

There was something between those two, but any reasonable explanation for it evaded Nika. By her count, Norea had attempted to jab that pencil of hers into various parts of Elan’s body 47 times since he had been tossed into the room with them, and yet he still antagonized her, and then comforted her when her rage burned out. She found them fascinating to observe, and somewhat cute, but didn’t dare vocalize that thought, in case Norea remembered she was there. Something told Nika that Sabina wouldn’t save her like she had last time.

The news opening jingle filled the tiny room, and Nika fixed her attention fully onto the TV. Norea snorted and grabbed her sketchbook again, continuing her doodle from before Elan had interrupted her. Meanwhile, he was laid across the couch, half his attention on the TV and half of it on Norea.

“Today on Cosmic Media News, we’re just days from the first poll results in the Benerit Group presidential election. How the candidates are proceeding with their campaigns ahead of the important measuring stick,” one of the anchors, a woman with blonde hair, announced.

“Plus, another pivotal duel, this one being announced by one of the presidential candidates himself. What the stakes are and what it could mean for the election’s outlook,” added her co-anchor, an older man with a head of graying hair.

That got the attention of even Norea, who sat up and set her sketchbook in her lap. Nika leaned a little further out of her corner nook, her muscles and bruises yelling at her throughout the duration of the movement.

“Well, well, the prince is making a move, huh? Hopefully he’s thought this one out fully.”

Elan’s voice was smug and confident, picking at his nails while he spoke. He sounded so sure of himself that Nika felt compelled to question it, despite part of her brain telling her to not bring attention to herself.

“How do you know it’s Shaddiq? And what good would a duel do for his chances at this point? If he was going after Burion, wouldn’t he have challenged them days ago?”

Both Norea and Elan immediately looked at Nika, causing her to shrink against the wall a little bit.

“The bluebird has a question! Well, it’s simple, when you really think about it. Shaddiq is still not in a very firm position, with Sarius’ ‘disappearance’ and his age both hurting him. But there’s still one chip up for grabs on the table, one with some real swinging power,” Elan gestured with his hand as he spoke, his point being solidified by the broadcast showing Shaddiq still several points behind Mr. Burion and Miorine Rembran in the projections.

“But with Jeturk out, and Peil playing neutral…” Nika stared at the screen of the TV, her head cocking to the side slightly. “Oh! Miorine! But that means…”

Elan nodded casually and then gestured to the TV screen.

“Shaddiq Zenelli, the acting CEO of Grassley Defense Systems and a current candidate for Benerit Group president, announced his intentions today to challenge Suletta Mercury, the current Holder at the Asticassia School of Technology, for the hand of Miorine Rembran. The status of Holder could have major implications for Shaddiq in his bid for president, as it puts him in line to marry the daughter of Delling Rembran when she turns 18 in just a couple of months. We have a political an-”

“Right you are, bluebird! Claiming the title of Holder is the last chance Shaddiq has at affecting the poll numbers. It’s a longshot, as it could just as well help Miorine’s chances, but it’s his lone ace in the hole, if you will,” Elan gave Nika a smile as he confidently stated the political analysis before the news broadcast could.

“But there’s no way the Michaelis can win that…it was outmatched in the team duel, and now the Aerial is much different.”

Nika was chewing her nails, a nervous habit she’d never managed to kick. This wasn’t sounding like a Shaddiq plan, on the surface. Even when she knew him back in Quinharbor, he was smarter and shrewder than the desperate ploy this was coming off as.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be so confident about a damned Spacian,” Norea spat, the words just barely audible over the sound of the TV.

“No…just going by specifications, the Michaelis is outclassed by Suletta’s Aerial.”

Nika returned to her nook in the wall, her years of engineering and mechanical experience overtaking her as she looked at Norea and Elan.

“Against the Aerial, Shaddiq has no chance of winning this duel.”

Chapter Text

“And you just gave it to her??? Suletta Mercury, are you stupid?!”

Miorine Rembran’s shouting echoed harshly around the Earth House hangar. The Rembran heir and her white and gold-clad bride were standing in front of a conspicuously empty mobile suit dock. From Chuchu’s standpoint, it looked like a scene out of some old television sitcom, and Miorine had even asked “Suletta, where is the Aerial?” at one point. It WOULD have been funny, if Chuchu wasn’t also upset at the sudden disappearance of their Gundam.

“W-well…mom asked, and she said it needed a repair, so…”

Despite normally standing a forehead taller than Miorine, Suletta was cowering, having to look up at her bride as she tried to explain herself.

“Have you paid no attention to things as of late? She can’t be trusted anymore!”

Chuchu took a step closer to the couple, putting a hand on Miorine’s shoulder.

“Hey, that’s a little harsh, Mrs. Mercury is still family, no matter the business stuff.”

The white-haired girl shrugged Chuchu’s hand away and directed her stare of daggers at the pink-haired pilot instead.

“She pulled all of her support from us! She stranded us in the middle of a presidential race in favor of those bastards at Burion! You do remember that Shaddiq challenged you, right?”

The last part was punctuated with a finger jabbed in Suletta’s direction, causing the red-haired Holder to nervously tap her fingertips together.

“She…she asked shortly before he made the challenge, actually. But no matter what, Ms. Miorine, I’ll win, because I promised you, ok? We’ve got the Pharact now, so don’t worry!”

Suletta slowly straightened her posture as she spoke, her confidence visibly building itself back up. However, Chuchu could see that Miorine wasn’t convinced, and the Rembran heir scoffed, turning on a heel and heading out of the hangar.

“I don’t have the time to deal with this right now, I’m still dealing with the fallout of the Mercurian companies pulling their support. This is your situation to handle, and if you can’t then Shaddiq or Burion are going to run away with this.”

Chuchu and Suletta stood in silence as the president of GUND-ARM marched away and left Earth House to deal with a problem she was at the center of. With a frustrated yell, Chuchu stormed past the empty Aerial dock and the dock for her own Demi-Trainer before stopping in front of the Gundam Pharact.

“Goddamned Spacian! Maybe help manage the mess YOU got us in before going to make more of a disaster!” Chuchu’s indignant shouting filled the cavernous room as she slammed open a locker and started digging through tools and parts. Suletta still hadn’t moved from where she stood, looking out at the door Miorine had left from. Chuchu cupped her hands and yelled down to the Mercurian pilot.

“Oi! You gonna come help work on YOUR mobile suit, or just stand there until your legs give out?!”

With a start, Suletta snapped around towards Chuchu, taking a second to emerge from her thoughts before dashing down to help her pink-haired housemate. The pair quickly got to work touching up the Pharact, the damage from the Rumble Ring still visible on its dark gray frame. Chuchu was still grumbling, not used to having so much mechanic work to do.

“Where the hell is Nika at…bailing on everyone just isn’t like her.”

Suletta looked over from the other side of the Gundam’s chest, beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead.

“Don’t you think Ms. Nika has been a bit strange since Plant Quetta? Maybe that scared her and she just needs some time alone.”

“Something like that wouldn’t get under her skin,” Chuchu scoffed, working on a joint that still had some dust trapped in a hard-to-reach spot. “And it’s been over a week at this point, she’d have come back if that was the case.”

Chuchu stared at nothing in particular, her brain trying to find ways to vocalize the thoughts bouncing around her head and coming up with too many to pick one as a starting point. So Suletta spoke up instead.

“I can help look, you know. Everybody’s been asking me to do other things and I feel bad,” she offered, sounding a little dejected.

“Right now, all you need to worry about is beating Shaddiq, ok?” Chuchu responded, her hands starting to work on the Pharact again. The pink-haired pilot picked up on her housemate’s sadness a little bit late, and hastily spoke up again.

“Sorry, uh, I mean…you’re the Holder and all that, so you’ve got to keep your skills sharp…and, well, now you’re the only person here who’s worked on a Gundam, so like…” Chuchu stumbled through the thought before setting her tools down and looking across the sleek chest of the Pharact at Suletta.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard with Miorine having so much stuff to do and all the duels. We’ll find Nika, don’t worry.”

The Mercurian pilot paused her work and looked at Chuchu for a few seconds before giving her an appreciative smile.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Thanks, Chuchu.”

The two pilots-turned-mechanics got back to work, the room filling with clanking, scraping, and the occasional obscenity when some part of Chuchu’s body accidentally banged against a part of the Pharact. As the two descended down the scaffolding to inspect the ankles and feet, Chuchu turned towards Suletta.

“I know it’s kinda ours now, but are you sure you want to pilot this?” she asked as she stared up at the menacing, dark-gray mobile suit, its dormant shell units catching the artificial sunlight. “You’ve only ever piloted Aerial, what if the Pharact’s Permet scores are different?”

Suletta followed Chuchu’s gaze upward, then slowly let a wistful smile take shape on her face.

“I have to, for Ms. Miorine. And I don’t really know why, but it’s not so scary anymore. Something feels welcoming now. I feel like I’ll be ok.”

Chuchu didn’t really know what to say to something like that, so she said nothing at all. Some weird Gundam pilot thing, probably. Forget the whole “killing you slowly” thing they had going on, every Gundam pilot Chuchu had ever met had this strangely melancholic and cryptic streak that made the hair on the back of her neck stick up. Her Demi-Trainer was more than enough for her. No weird Permet shit there.

“Actually, speaking of the Pharact…where is Elan? Last I saw him, he was in here, being a nuisance as usual, just a few days ago. The one day he would’ve been useful and he’s just not here. Typical.”

“I…” Suletta opened her mouth to reply but quickly fell into thought, resting a finger on her bottom lip idly. “Yea, I haven’t seen him in a bit either. He…was asking about Aerial just before they released her from containment, then suddenly left. Don’t you think he’s been acting weird since our duel?”

“Yea…” Chuchu turned around and stared out the hangar entryway, the weather outside perfect as always. “I think a lot of things have been weird around here.”

———————

“Well, doesn’t this feel familar!”

Shaddiq Zenelli burst into the Dueling Committee room with his usual overbearing cheer and charisma, much to the chagrin of Rouji, who was trying his best to sink into his usual spot on the couch. All the new things in his life had begun to add up, and now his body was mad at him. Coupled with a late night transferring mobile suit documents to the company server, and there were very few things that he wanted to do less than make a duel challenge official.

“It’s nice having you two as observers again, though it was fun playing the role last time. And you two put on such a marvelous show too!”

The Grassley CEO’s team of Valkyries filed in behind their charge, wordlessly taking seats on the couch as Shaddiq strolled to the front of the room where Secelia was standing, one hand on her hip as she lazily checked her phone.

Renee Costa, the far-and-away most social of the group, took a seat next to Rouji, much to his chagrin. Her list of back-up boyfriends was infamous around Asticassia and he very much wanted to avoid her attention at all costs. Rouji glanced over at Secelia, hoping for some kind of a lifeline, but his housemate was unfortunately distracted by Shaddiq.

“Yea, yea, would it have killed you to clean up the room after the duel? We had to do all that the very next day, you know?”

Secelia’s words were barbed but casual, shooting a sideways glance at the blonde. She was exaggerating a bit, they had needed to pick up some random trash left on the couch, but the vacuuming and surface clean-up had been done by the automated cleaners overnight.

“My sincere apologies, we must’ve gotten a little too excited watching such a great duel. I hope you can forgive us, I’d hate to start a future business relationship off on such a bad note.”

Shaddiq flashed that sly, hard-to-read smile as he extended a hand to the silver-haired girl. Rouji turned his attention to the two of them, Shaddiq indirectly confirming some chatter he had overheard in the last few days. Secelia just scoffed and looked up from her phone, a little confusion mixed with her own smirk.

“Business relationship? Aren’t you still losing to Burion in the presidential race? Surely you don’t think this irrelevant dueling game will put you back on top.”

“Ah, so you haven’t been told yet. The race may as well be over. Between Burion, Grassley, and Shin Sei, the majority of the votes are concentrated in one place. So, as I said, I’m looking forward to a prosperous business relationship!”

“Did you hear that, Rouji?” Renee suddenly got very close to him and he instinctively shrunk in the opposite direction, using his tablet as a barrier. “I’m excited about getting to work closely with you.”

The words had barely left Renee’s mouth when Secelia shouted angrily from the front of the room.

“Watch it, you! I’ll beat you worse than I did your lookalike, you little shit!”

“The hell do you care? Mind your own business!”

“As far as I’m concerned, that IS my busi-“

Secelia stopped talking and immediately fought off a deep blush. Rouji had never wished so hard to vanish into the soft cushions of the couch before this exact moment. Next to him, he felt Renee back away a little bit, a strange noise that was partially a laugh and partially a gasp coming out of her mouth.

“Aha, so it IS like that, hmmm?”

In the corner of his vision, Rouji saw Secelia turning as red as the armor on a Darilbalde.

“Shut up! I’ll just beat you right here, if you prefer.”

She tried to put as much anger and defiance into her voice as possible, but with a tomato-red blush and her eyes deliberately avoiding Rouji’s general direction, very little was actually conveyed.

“No, no,” Renee kicked her feet up and stifled her laughter. “I get it, no need to worry about me anymore.”

A very awkward silence took hold of the room as none of them wanted to find a response to Secelia’s slip of the tongue. Or, four of them didn’t want to. Ireesha and Maisie may as well have been in their own world, the brunette Valkyrie nestled against her friend’s shoulder as Maisie talked about something inaudible to the rest of the room. Henao was observing everything with a completely vacant expression, half her face covered by her hair. Sabina sat next to her, her face slightly more readable, but not any more interested than her companion’s.

“I’m so glad everyone’s getting closer already!” Shaddiq broke the silence of the room with more cheeriness. “I’m certain you two will pilot alongside one another in the future, after all.”

Rouji didn’t quite enjoy thinking about that. He’d seen the Valkyries in combat, and something told him they wouldn’t mesh very well. Not to mention the general bad taste working with Grassley in any capacity left in his mouth. Mr. Burion hadn’t exactly told him much about the presidential race, and now he wished it had stayed that way.

Well, at this point there wasn’t much to do about it, Rouji thought. He and Secelia were in with Burion for the long haul, thanks to their parent’s sponsorship, and it wasn’t like it was the worst situation in the world. With the dueling game coming to an end and a lack of any real challengers, life had just about returned to normal.

The door to the committee room opened again, and in stepped Suletta Mercury, accompanied by Chuatury Panlunch. A much more tolerable addition to the environment, in Rouji’s opinion. She was brash and loud, but talking with her about the Demi-Trainer had shown him a kinder, more inquisitive side of her. Suletta was similar, her own social anxiousness seeming to resonate with his to form a normal conversation. She also knew what she was talking about when it came to Gundams, and had been invaluable to his own tech sheet.

“Alright let’s get this damne- why the hell are you all staring like that?”

Chuatury had marched halfway to the front of the room before stopping and staring at the awkward aftermath of the conversation she had missed. Shaddiq was, once again, the one who swooped in to push them all past the speed bump.

“Apologies, Ms. Panlunch, we simply were surprised by your appearance. I’m glad you and Ms. Mercury could make it today, I can only imagine how busy Earth House has been as of late.”

“Yea whatever, can it, Blondie. I thought you’d be too busy with whatever you’ve been pulling together behind the scenes, but if you want to lose right before the elections, Suletta’s more than happy to oblige.”

“M-Ms. Chuchu…isn’t that a little rude?” Suletta spoke up from behind her friend, a large, pink ball of hair nearly obscuring her.

“Oh, it’s no big deal, Ms. Mercury, just a little bit of good-natured ribbing! Now, let’s get down to the business of the day.”

Rouji heard Chuatury mutter something about violence directed at Shaddiq’s ribs, but she stepped forward, pulling Suletta in front of her to stand across from the Grassley CEO.

“Rouji, can you come up here?”

He had never been so happy to get off of the Dueling Committee couch, practically jumping up to stand at Secelia’s side with his Haro at the ready. Renee, meanwhile, fought a giggle at his eagerness to be anywhere besides next to her.

“Alright, everyone’s here, let’s get this over with,” Secelia said, sliding her phone into her jacket pocket. She was trying her best to sound bored, but she subtly straightened her posture, letting a little authority creep into her tone.

“Both parties, deposit your souls on Libra’s scales!”

The five girls scattered around the circular couch all sat up, attention fixed to Secelia as she gestured to each party.

“Shaddiq Zenelli. Suletta Mercury. The location will be the 2nd tactical testing sector, and the one-on-one code will apply. Are there any objections?”

Shaddiq, Suletta, and Chuatury all shook their heads at the same time. The Haro in Rouji’s hands blinked once, recording the information. He turned it towards Shaddiq, awaiting his stakes.

“Hmmm, let’s see…my real prize is the status of Holder, making everything else a little dull,” the blonde chuckled arrogantly as he gazed upwards. “How about…if I win, GUND-ARM Inc. becomes a subsidiary of Grassley Defense Systems?”

Chuatury bristled, but Suletta swallowed and nodded, a quiet defiance fighting her usual, very visible anxiety.

“If I win, I want you to drop out of the presidential race.”

Her words were delivered with a strength Rouji wasn’t used to hearing from her. He exchanged a sideways glance with Secelia, whose eyes told him that it wasn’t their business to interfere in. Shaddiq kept his composure, a confident smile stuck on his features.

“I’ll even endorse your bride if that happens, Ms. Mercury.”

He extended a hand towards the Mercurian pilot, his brand of poisonous charisma in full effect. As he’d become a more consistent presence in the areas Rouji frequented, the way the Zenelli heir operated had become apparent to the mechanic-turned-pilot. Shaddiq used a very insidious kindness and nobility that seemed to come instinctively to him. Rouji still had no idea what the blonde’s actual background was, but there was a level of political mastery there that so far had not been displayed by anyone else at Asticassia. On a small scale, he saw it at work on Suletta, the friendliness working to mask his actual intentions and what could only be described as political ruthlessness.

Shaddiq, through simple actions, was quickly shaping this duel challenge into one of the cruelest Rouji had ever overseen. The dueling game as a political tool may as well not exist anymore (which was Burion’s doing, to be honest), yet Shaddiq had chosen to exploit the Holder status to challenge Suletta. It was well-known that she didn’t have the Aerial because of the Rumble Ring, and that GUND-ARM Inc. was stretched thin as is. Shaddiq was also all but guaranteed a spot at the top of the Benerit Group following the elections, and an arranged marriage with Miorine Rembran had no impact on that. His only goal, from Rouji’s perspective, was to cut down Earth House, starting with its core.

And as Shaddiq stabbed downwards, driving the poisoned blade into Suletta Mercury and Miorine Rembran’s backs, he smiled like an old friend and shook their hands.

“Alea iacta est.”

The 5 Grassley Valkyries all slowly stood up, Ireesha still clinging to Maisie, Renee casting teasing glances at Rouji, and Sabina looking much more distracted then when she sat down. That was curious to Rouji, given her usual stoicism, but the Grassley contingent started filing towards the door, ruining his moment to think about it.

“I’ll see you on the battlefield, Ms. Mercury.”

Shaddiq’s parting shot was as cheery and kind as the rest of his words, and he exited the room with one hand held high. Suletta and Chuatury stared around, the Mercurian looking like a half-baked imitation of a predator sizing up a piece of prey, while the pink-haired freshman seemed ready to blow a fuse. Secelia silently tapped Rouji’s shoulder and motioned towards the room’s other exit, the two of them leaving the Earth House reps to flounder in their confusion.

They were both silent as they descended the stairs and stepped into the false afternoon of Asticassia, Rouji’s mind piecing together the bits of Shaddiq’s scheme that were revealed to him, while also very much trying not to think about Secelia's slip of the tongue from earlier.

“Secelia…do you think anything happening right now is…”

He trailed off, the descriptors for the current political climate abandoning him.

“Right? Fair? Just?” Secelia interjected into her housemate’s thoughts.

“...the way it should be?”

Rouji finished the thought, and Secelia stared up into the paneling projecting the sky. After a few moments, she took his hand in hers, eyes still fixed on the simulated sun. He flinched just a little at the unexpected contact, but looked up at Secelia, feeling her hand against his.

“I don’t know. But I trust in Mr. Burion. If he’s leading this, I think things will work out.”

Rouji had a thousand different fleeting objections flash through his mind, but none of them could overcome the simple logic of Secelia’s belief. So instead, he accepted it and continued walking, hand still interlocked with hers.

The two of them didn’t talk much for the rest of the evening, but when the Burion mechanics woke up and headed for the hangar in the morning, they found the two of them fast asleep, arms wrapped around the other.

—---------------

It wasn’t working.

Sabina Fardin sighed as she shifted her posture. Usually this environment helped her relax, refocus her thoughts. Sure, it was nontraditional (if Henao had her way, she’d have her on twice-daily meditation sessions), but if it worked, it was good enough in her mind. When it wasn’t, the only thing stopping her from going to Henao and starting a mindfulness program was the physical comfort it provided.

“Are you going to stop fidgeting eventually? My arm was really comfortable there.”

Renee Costa’s words were a little harsh, but her tone was warm. She pulled the taller, purple-haired girl a little closer and let her arm gently rest around the back of her neck. Sabina laid her head onto the golden-blonde’s shoulder, looking at her companion the best she could.

The two of them were sitting on what amounted to a loveseat tucked away in a forgotten lounge on the third floor of the Grassley dorm building. It was around sunset now, Sabina meeting Renee here after debriefing the duel confirmation. The purple-haired Valkyrie had walked in to see her teammate sitting with her legs kicked up and wordlessly sat next to her, quickly finding herself pulled in with one arm.

This had become a routine conducted in complete secrecy by the two of them. Sabina was the “ice queen” of Shaddiq’s group, stoic and adored by people of all genders. Renee was the carefree, trickster pilot whose daring stunts and cute poses stole the hearts of the underclassmen in particular. Both had campus reputations regarding their strength and self-confidence, idealized versions of them floating in the collective conscience of Asticassia.

And here Sabina was, curled in the arms of her companion, listening to her heartbeat and letting it calm her own thoughts. It was pathetic, she thought with a painful laugh. If some of those lovestruck fans knew she routinely hid herself away in the arms of one of her juniors, letting her emotions run uncontrolled, her fan club would likely see membership dwindle. Yet still, she and Renee came back to this little alcove, a nook hidden from the normal view of Asticassia’s politicking, time after time.

It had started the first year Renee came to Grassley House, another graduate from Sarius’ glorified child soldier program. As she came to learn later, Renee had always been watching Sabina, in amazement of the girl who had come from Quinharbor’s slums to run circles around even the Spacian children under Grassley’s piloting program.

She and Henao had been the oldest Earthian children at the orphanage, meaning that they were thrust into the mantle of leading the scared, lonely children who looked up to them. At the same time, despite his young age, Shaddiq had been given a level of management over the program, as its objective had been to hand-pick a group to accompany him as he rose through the Benerit Group.

Sabina and Henao were the oldest and also the first two Earthian orphans in the program under that objective, and quickly became close with the Zenelli heir. He told them two things very quickly: that he was also Earthian, born as Jeru Ogul, and that none of the Spacians who had been handed to Grassley would be picked. The futility of their training hadn’t stopped the Spacians from harassing and sometimes brutalizing those they deemed as “second-class”, though.

And it was in one of those moments that Sabina and Henao had first met Renee, Maisie, and Ireesha. Two Spacian children, not of particularly important birth, but still born with enough privilege to feel superior, had cornered Maisie and Ireesha with the intent of taking out some frustrations after a poor piloting session.

By the time Sabina happened upon the dead-end hallway it took place in, Ireesha’s fists were dripping with blood and Renee was streaked with crimson from her arms to her forehead. Maisie had a single scratch on her cheek and was excitedly hugging Ireesha, paying no mind to the blood getting all over her clothes.

Henao had wordlessly gotten the two Spacians cleaned up and taken to the infirmary, while Sabina questioned the three of them. Maisie and Ireesha weren’t overly helpful, with the brunette girl reverting to near-muteness out of fear and the green-haired girl going on about how cool Ireesha had been. Renee had been able to explain everything, despite only coming in as a passerby.

The two Spacians, a boy and a girl, had started by going after Ireesha, goading her on until Maisie stepped between them, earning her a slap across the cheek from the girl. That had been what set Ireesha off, jumping on her and slamming her fists, knees, and elbows into any bit of her she could reach. Renee had walked into the scene right as the boy had gotten hold of his senses enough to pull out a knife and lunge at his friend’s assailant. She hadn’t taken kindly to that and broke his nose with a punch, the knife dropping to the ground. She proceeded to drive it through the boy’s hand and beat him until he was unconscious.

At the end of it, both Spacians were wounded badly enough to be unable to pilot a mobile suit for the rest of their lives. The girl had suffered broken cheekbones, a broken nose, a bruised spleen on top of countless other external and internal bruises, and a twisted right wrist. The boy had received the stab wound in his hand, a broken nose, a broken jaw, a couple of broken fingers, and then nearly a dozen cuts on his arms and chest, some of them extremely deep.

The three Earthians suffered a couple bruised knuckles, a scratch on the cheek, and Ireesha had broken a finger against the girl’s face.

It wasn’t a fight. That implies some form of back-and-forth, an evenness that was not present in this. No, this was years of torment and unfocused rage being distilled and reversed back on the ones who had over-filled the glass.

The Spacians were quietly sent back to their families and Sabina and Henao were put in charge of overseeing any punishment they saw fit to dole out. Henao had handled Ireesha and Maisie, in a way that Sabina still didn’t know the extent of. Meanwhile, Renee had been placed directly under her command, unfamiliar territory to Sabina. While Henao, Ireesha, and Maisie came out of that with a new sense of focus and a deep closeness to each other, Renee hadn’t changed in an obvious way.

Sabina saw herself when she looked at Renee’s history: a scared girl, angry at the world because any other emotion would have been discarded like a broken toy. Others would have beaten that out of her, as some had tried to do with Sabina, breaking that spirit to form a perfectly obedient soldier who lived for the battlefield. Sabina could not and would not do that, so she did what had been done to her.

She molded that anger of Renee’s, sharpened it like a knife until it had taken on a life of its own. Then she taught her how to use that anger in a way that seemed like it could be controlled by those who wished to use her. And finally, she taught Renee the only type of independence a weapon could know, the freedom of finding a new direction to point, as long as you never, ever stopped fulfilling that one, instinctive goal. After all, a valiant knight’s broadsword can be used by a brigand and a cursed blade can be wielded by the holy. The weapon is simply the medium through which violence is carried out.

When Renee returned to normal duty, Sabina had shaped her into only person in her life that could understand her. The only person who thought like she did, and was as dangerous as she was.

It hurt when they were separated, Sabina going to Asticassia one year early to test the waters with Shaddiq and Henao. She had tried to get close to the quiet, gray-blue haired girl, but every time they had approached anything Sabina considered intimacy, something in their personalities drove them back apart. And so the yellow-eyed freshman threw herself into the dueling game instead, honing her frustrations with the whetstone known as the Heindree.

Renee, Maisie, and Ireesha had joined them the following year, and Shaddiq’s inner circle was completed. Some called them Valkyries, while others called them a harem, or any number of similarly vile accusations. Sabina didn’t care, finally having been reunited with Renee.

Their first joint training session had been the birth of this routine for the two, Renee following Sabina to the alcove she had called her own during her freshman year. They had tried to catch up on the past year, the feeling of freedom from the orphanage, or even just what Asticassia was like. Instead they had collapsed into the small couch and cried in each other’s arms until they had exhausted the depth of their shared pain and then fell asleep. For Sabina, it had been like finally finding shelter after wandering through a sandstorm, Renee her oasis in a vast, cruel desert.

“Ok Sab, you’re not allowed to lay there if you’re going to keep moving. You’ll have to deal with this.”

Renee snapped Sabina out of her thoughts by gently lifting her head and putting it onto her lap. The faint smell of sweat mixed with her companion’s bodywash occupied her senses and grounded Sabina back in reality. She looked up, meeting a soft amber gaze and a warm, teasing smile. A hand gently began to stroke Sabina’s neatly-done hair.

It was comforting, helping to settle her restless thoughts again. The duel confirmation, along with Shaddiq’s meetings with Mr. Burion and Prospera Mercury, had caused her mind to upturn everything it was used to. She was questioning not just Shaddiq’s methods, but his end-goal as well. Sabina had no love for Grassley, but she had decided in the orphanage that Shaddiq’s cause was one she would take up as well. In her mind, she was a weapon, because that was what she was trained to be, though not one for Sarius Zenelli to wield. But now she didn’t know where she would be pointed at next, and if she could follow the command.

Sabina remembered one particular lesson she had been given, and had passed along to Renee in kind.

“A weapon has one purpose and is useless if it cannot perform it. Should the time come when you question if you can fulfill that purpose, you have two options. Find a new path, or perish.”

The only question was where the new path was at.

“Now, what’s the matter? You’ve looked out of it since the duel confirmation.”

As always, Renee could read her like a book, Sabina thought with a small smile. If there was one person she could rely on to listen, it was her, after all.

“Renee…do you think that this presidential campaign of Shaddiq’s is the right way to be handling things?”

“That’s a little deeper than I’m used to from you, Sab. I thought we had agreed that the Benerit Group was the best way to advance the Earthian position, anyways.”

Renee’s response was hesitant, Sabina’s question clearly making her consider these things for the first time.

“But with Burion and Prospera, is that really the same goal now? And why challenge to be Holder now? It just seems…cruel, like grinding Earth House into the dirt a little more.”

“One might think you’ve grown attached to those naive dorks, saying something like that,” the golden-blonde teased Sabina, ruffling her hair as she spoke. “Did something happen between you and that blue-haired girl when you fixed her up?”

Sabina flushed a bright red at the jab. Her thoughts on Nika Nanaura were a complicated mess that did not belong in this conversation right now. She had already spent a lot of time making sure Shaddiq didn’t suddenly decide she had lost her use as an asset. Dredging up that shared past would just muddy things.

“N-no, I thought about it because of that Mercurian’s stake in the duel. She’s really committed to Earth House and her companions, even though she’s Spacian-born. It feels like Shaddiq is just using this duel to crush her hopes and show the world how strong the future presidential alliance will be.”

Sabina sighed and turned her head, staring at Renee’s stomach as she tried to word her uneasiness.

“It feels like he’s trying to be powerful just to have power. Burion and Prospera are more…grounded in their goals, whatever they might be. He’s just going to end up furthering their wishes, I think.”

“And you don’t want any part of that?”

“I fell in with Shaddiq back at the orphanage because I believed in his objectives. If he loses those goals, then I don’t know what’s next. But…I also don’t know-“

“Where the new path is?”

Sabina looked up again, a smile still on Renee’s face, but her expression a little more clouded than before.

“I know how you are, Sab. As much as you act like a blade to be pointed at any enemy, you have your own dreams. I want to help you, but I can’t on this. You need to decide where those will take you.”

Renee’s voice was quiet and somewhat solemn, her usual carefree cheeriness buried beneath the weight of the conversation. She used a hand to lift Sabina’s head up just a little bit and leaned down, amber eyes meeting yellow ones.

“But just tell me where, and I’ll be behind you.”

The golden-blonde closed the distance and met Sabina’s lips. All the purple-haired girl could think about in the moment was how soft her companion’s lips were, and how nice she smelled. The kiss was shorter than Sabina wanted, but simultaneously everything she needed in that moment. She wasn’t at the precipice of her decision just yet, but she knew she could make it when it finally arrived.

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Renee’s back, pressing her head against Renee’s stomach. For now, Sabina wanted to stay in this rare moment of freedom and be true to herself. With her companion’s hand softly patting her head, Sabina fell asleep.

———————

Secelia really didn’t enjoy how busy the committee room had been as of late. Sure, it wasn’t her only place of quiet now, and she and Rouji probably spent more time in the Burion prep room nowadays, but still! It was the principle of the thing, she thought as she stood at the front of the room.

At least it was a little less crowded than it had been during the duel confirmation. Chuatury was in the Earth House command room and Renee and Henao were in the Grassley one. That left three Valkyries scattered around the couch. Maisie and Ireesha were together once again, the brunette sleepily cuddling a stuffed bunny and Maisie at the same time. Ireesha was normally lethargic, at least in Secelia’s experience, but at least now it made sense, the duel being scheduled early in the morning for some baffling reason.

The more interesting occurrence today by far was Sabina Fardin.

The normally quiet, brooding captain of the guard was sitting on the far right end of the circular couch instead of in the Grassley command room assisting Shaddiq. Her overall demeanor felt different too, like she was distracted and a little bit sullen. She had walked in quietly, following behind her two companions, and then just stared at the large screen at the front of the dueling committee room. Maisie and Ireesha didn’t look bothered by it, only further adding to Secelia’s amusement.

Maybe the unbreakable Valkyries were starting to fracture.

The cameras in the Earth and Grassley House hangers started their live feed displaying the Michaelis and the Pharact loading into the transport containers.

“Wait, the Pharact?”

Secelia’s thought was accidentally vocalized, drawing the attention of Rouji.

“Earth House has been in possession of Gundam Pharact since the Rumble Ring. It seems as though Elan has cut ties with Peil. Though I don’t think anyone has seen him in a few days…”

Her housemate mused half to himself and half to her. It didn’t change any of Burion’s involvement, Shaddiq had been given the run-down on nearly every mobile suit Rouji had documented so far. But it was curious to see Suletta in a different Gundam, given her attachment to the Aerial.

“Does she think she can pilot any Gundam with the same skill? I doubt she had the time to really learn how it works.”

“No, I think she just…doesn’t have any other choice. She’s desperate, it feels like.”

Rouji’s voice was pensive, staring up at the wiry dark-gray mobile suit. As the two containers closed and sped towards the testing sector, he spoke again in a quieter voice.

“This duel doesn’t feel right. It feels malicious, like Shaddiq has been planning this for too long.”

So that’s what was bothering him last night, Secelia thought, though she still didn’t quite feel it. As much as she didn’t like him, Shaddiq had always been ruthless when it came to dueling, and after being barred from it for so long, it only made sense that he would need to blow off some steam. It’s what she would do, at least.

The two containers skidded to a halt, sparking against the tracks as they arrived on the opposite sides of the testing sector. The 2nd tactical testing sector was vastly different from the 5th, the battlefield covered by a dense deciduous forest that was split by a large, overgrown mountain. A small river ran down the steep cliffside, forming a cascading waterfall that pooled into a spring at the bottom. It was a tough environment, the humidity of the forest hurting the range of beam weapons and the tightly packed trees hindering melee attacks and maneuverability.

Secelia took her spot at the front of the room again and cleared her throat.

“Earth House. Grassley House. This duel will go until one combatant’s blade antenna is damaged. Shaddiq, please start us off.”

“Shaddiq Zenelli, KP003, Michaelis.”

His response was immediate, delivered in that self-assured tone that Secelia despised. Suletta’s took a couple seconds longer, but the determination was evident in her voice, perhaps even stronger than it had been during the confirmation.

“Suletta Mercury, LP041, Gundam Pharact.”

“Both parties, face off!”

The two mobile suits revealed themselves to the world, the Michaelis unchanged from its last appearance while the Pharact had switched back to its arquebus. The two stood motionless, a pair of coiled springs awaiting the moment they would be set free.

“Victory is never decided by mobile suit performance alone,” recited Shaddiq.

“Nor by the skill of the pilot alone,” Suletta responded.

“The result itself is the only truth!”

The voices rang out in tandem, Secelia’s heart beating faster as she prepared the words that would set about a beautiful chaos. She really did relish these moments, the calm before the storm. It made her want to join the battle herself. With a somewhat breathy sigh, she raised her hand.

“Fix…release!”

Suletta immediately shot into a hard skywards burn, heading for the mountain and the higher ground necessary to run a long-range strategy. Despite her assumed inexperience with the Gundam, she had a good handle on the extreme mobility contained within the Peil frame.

Shaddiq, on the other hand, began to weave between the trees, not activating any weapons as he gracefully darted towards the far side of the mountain. He wasn’t at a full burn, more of a leisurely dash through the underbrush. Secelia’s vision darted between the two cameras, their subjects heading about parallel to the other.

Suletta reached her destination first, finding a ledge overlooking the forest to the right of the waterfall and scanning the area in front of her. The Pharact’s Permet shells began to glow a faint red.

“Permet Score 1...”

Rouji’s voice came from just behind Secelia’s shoulder and she jumped a little. Her housemate had quietly walked behind her and begun to watch the big screens. She pulled him forward, her arm finding a resting spot around his waist.

“What do you think Suletta’s plan is?”

“She’s going to try and out-range Shaddiq, luring him out of the easy cover and into the shortened range of the beam arquebus. As long as she’s at score 1, she can track where he is, because Antidote gives off a faint, trackable signature. Higher scores would allow her to utilize the corax drones to set up those shots, but Shaddiq’s use of Antidote may limit that. She’s got the maneuverability advantage and as long as she doesn’t get blindsided, eventually a shot will find its mark.”

Rouji’s eyes never left the screen as he listed off the various factors of the battle from Suletta’s poiint of view.

“Then, what do you think Shaddiq’s plan is?”

“He’s likely going to try and feint with the beam bracer, drawing Suletta into second-guessing herself. If he can draw her out of the high ground, he’ll use Antidote to shut her down and force close-range. His best strategy is to be patient and drive Suletta into a desperate mistake.”

Secelia exhaled and looked back at the screen. Suletta was aiming at the forest below her, tracking the flashes of white underneath the canopy. A burst of green ripped through the air, streaking towards the forest floor. It burned through the leaves, but before it could hit the ground in front of Shaddiq, it fizzled and ended up only kicking up some of the wet soil.

The Michaelis pulled a hard corner and headed for the mountain, the blade on its shield arm now active. It curved due to the speed and wavered slightly in the humidity as the white mobile suit crossed into a clearing and kicked on its thrusters, racing up the sheer cliffside. Suletta stayed still, tracking her opponent through the cloud of dust it kicked up.

She fired again, the Michaelis now well within effective range. It tore up the rocks on the mountainside, but a slight adjustment on Shaddiq’s part meant it flew just wide. He passed over the edge of the ledge and launched into a full thruster burn forward, swinging its left-hand beam blade as it lunged.

The slash came up empty, sheering a neat line in the rock in front of him. Two corax drones, left behind by Suletta, activated and zeroed in on the arms of Shaddiq’s mobile suit. One hit the left forearm, instantly powering down the beam blade, while the other was barely avoided with a sharp dodge towards the wall.

The Michaelis then surged upwards, destroying the two drones with shots from its bracer and hugging the cliffside in its pursuit of the Pharact. It looked like a repeat of just seconds ago to Secelia, the Grassley mobile suit eclipsing the edge of the cliff again and jetting forward, beam blade drawn.

Suletta, in the middle of a rocky clearing with the arquebus holstered on her back, met the green blade this time, her beam saber crossing Shaddiq’s with the full intensity of her Gundam’s thrusters. The Pharact’s red glow had gotten more intense, Permet Score 2 being used to control the two remaining corax drones. The crossed blades pressed against each other, bringing the two mobile suits face-to-face before the Michaelis evaded to one side and sent Suletta stumbling forward.

There was no time to capitalize, however, as Shaddiq went right into further evasive maneuvers to dodge beams from the drones. As both mobile suits assumed fighting posture again, Suletta recalled the corax drones to their binders and stared the Michaelis down.

Neither moved, beam blades drawn in anticipation of the other’s next move.

Chapter Text

To everyone outside the 5th tactical testing sector, the Michaelis and the Gundam Pharact were staring the other down, akin to samurai waiting for an opponent to move.

In the cockpits, it was quite the opposite.

“Haven’t you learned yet, Suletta Mercury?! What do you think this is?! Why do you persist?!!?”

Shaddiq Zenelli had cut the outward comms between the Michaelis and the Pharact, limiting he and Suletta to the closed-circuit radio systems in each mobile suit. Suletta had stood motionless in her borrowed Gundam after her opponent had dodged her drone attacks, her breath coming in ragged, deep gasps.

Suletta was scared, an emotion she wasn’t used to feeling in a mobile suit cockpit. She regretted so much of her bravery and so many of her promises, now that she was confronting the beast birthed from them

Permet scars burned bright red across her face, a completely foreign feeling that distorted her reflection in a way that made her heart rate quicken. That was the least of her concerns related to her heart, though. It was beating so fast while at the same time feeling like it was going to seize up and stop functioning. The rest of her body was in a similar state, caught between total hyperactivity and overloaded sluggishness. She was burning hot and also freezing cold. Her head was pounding, but she felt like she could think clearer than ever. Nothing made sense and she wanted to curl into a ball and cry.

All the while, Shaddiq, her upperclassman who had always been strange, but also always kind to her, was flooding the radio channel with vicious rebukes and accusations in a near-fevered panic. Suletta couldn’t find a way to respond to him, which just further fueled his anger.

She tried to process the quickly mounting effects of the Pharact’s Permet link, a handful of corax uses and arquebus shots having already sent the telltale lines of Permet burn blazing up every limb with a feeling akin to having her blood set on fire. It was nothing like Aerial, and that was the most confusing part, because she could feel another presence in the cockpit with her, just like she could in Aerial.

It wasn’t the same as the energetic warmth that her sister had whenever they would talk in Aerial’s cockpit, but it also wasn’t malicious. It was a quiet, calm presence that felt distant and reserved, as if it was sleeping. Suletta had a lot of wishes on her list at this exact moment (a lot of them related to the pain, fear, and confusion she was feeling), and this presence waking up was quickly rising to the top of it.

“Is this the power of a Witch? Your bride is on the line, yet this is all you can do? I was hoping for a challenge, Suletta!”

Shaddiq fired off a volley of beams from the Michaelis’ bracer right after he fired off more insults towards Suletta. He usually called her Ms. Mercury in a kind, teasing way that made Miorine fume. But from the seat of his mobile suit, he was spitting her first name at her, like it too might become a beam of energy and clip the Pharact’s blade antenna.

Suletta jolted back to the battle as alarms blared inside her Gundam. She pulled the controls hard, dodging to the left and readying her beam saber again, watching Shaddiq re-orient himself. He reverted the beam bracer back to saber mode and cut the gap between them, the Michaelis’ left arm still limp from the corax drone attack.

The blades of energy crossed again, Suletta defending from Shaddiq’s furious swings as he drove her further towards the edge of the cliff. Her posture was purely defensive, hoping to survive the onslaught long enough to buy some distance. Her fingers brushed over the button for the drones, too scared to raise the Permet level enough to utilize them. She couldn’t even find the time to grab her other beam saber, let alone the arquebus.

“Are you truly nothing without the Aerial? Where’s your fire? Where’s your aggression?” Shaddiq continued his verbal tirade as Suletta gauged the remaining distance to the cliff and weighed her remaining options.

“It’s ok,” the Zenelli heir said, his voice softening. “This was never the place for a simple Mercurian. Soon you can return to school and live like a regular student, and finish your list.”

The Michaelis’ left arm flared to life, all functions restored, and Shaddiq slashed both blades towards the chest of the Pharact.

“After all, someone like you was never worthy of Miorine to begin with.”

The pain of the Permet searing across her skin vanished for a single second before tripling in intensity. Suletta screamed in pain, her voice straining as her vision went white. Despite this, she saw the two beam sabers clearly as they began to slice towards her. Her hands left the controls and assumed a desperate, useless protective pose. She began to cry, the reality slowly sinking in.

And then, Suletta was weightless.

——

“Something’s wrong…”

Rouji murmured as he stared at the camera array on his tablet. There was no aggressive instinct in Suletta’s fighting style today. Shaddiq was about to get use of his other arm back, and all Suletta could do was defend with a single beam saber. And, knowing sniper unit designs, the Pharact’s beam sabers were very low power, no match for a mid-to-close range specialist like the Michaelis.
He watched as Shaddiq’s left arm roared back into motion, immediately jumping into a dual-bladed slash as the Pharact was just about driven off the cliff. The beams passed across each other, aimed at-

“Wait, that’s ille-“

Rouji was cut off by a single finger over his mouth.

As he looked on, anxiety taking over, the flow of the battle shifted in a moment.

The Pharact’s Permet shells took on a harsh red glow, turning the Gundam into a large, red lens flare on the camera feeds. The Michaelis’ green sabers finished their motion, but came through on either side unscathed.

In the next second, a bolt of beam energy crackled through the air and ripped through the short shield on the Michaelis’ arm. Shaddiq evaded backwards, just barely avoiding a second shot that would have torn the head off his mobile suit.

The lens flares died down as the Permet glow dropped in level, revealing the Pharact again.

——

Suletta had been weightless, and then she had felt the seat beneath her once more. She was in the air now, beam arquebus in the Pharact’s hand. Shaddiq was several meters away now, the shield on his left arm a smoldering piece of scrap.

The Permet burn across her skin had faded to a faint glow, yet she saw the two remaining corax drones floating beside her Gundam. As she reassessed her situation, she realized with a start that the only discomfort now was a small tightness in her chest. As she hovered, staring down at the now-damaged Michaelis, a quiet voice echoed in her ears.

“You’re not allowed to join me yet…I still haven’t figured out how to celebrate my birthday.”

The voice was familiar, a gentle, yet unattached whisper that caused Suletta to pause.

“Ela-“

She was cut off as the Pharact jerked to one side, narrowly avoiding a slash from the now-airborne Michaelis.

“Not now…win first…”

The presence she had felt earlier shifted the corax drones, circling them as Suletta took the controls back and gathered distance, aiming the arquebus as she soared over the dense forest.

The Michaelis wasn’t equipped for long flights with its thrusters, as far as Suletta remembered, and now that her head was clear, she was ready to counterattack.

“FINALLY! You’ve got life again! Now come, fight for your bride and your company. Fight with all your hopes, so that I can dissuade your foolish naivety!”

Shaddiq launched into a full burn, pursuing the Pharact while dodging corax shots. Suletta took aim again, something in the Gundam noticably improving her target acquisition. The Michaelis neared, and she fired the arquebus, trying to destroy its beam brace and render it weaponless.

At the last second, just meters from the Pharact, Shaddiq’s thrusters all deactivated, sending the white mobile suit into free-fall. The beam shot grazed the top of the shoulder armor, causing the Michaelis to start falling at an angle instead of straight down. Mid-fall, Shaddiq unfolded the beam bracer, which began glowing a bright green. Before Suletta or the presence inside the Pharact could react, several pulses of blue emitted from the middle of the weapon.

Shaddiq disappeared below the treeline as the Gundam was engulfed in the pulses. In the cockpit, everything briefly went black and the tightness in Suletta’s chest vanished entirely. The two remaining drones dropped out of the sky, crashing through the canopy and breaking. She tried to keep the Pharact airborne, but the entire mobile suit had become sluggish and unresponsive.

Suletta tumbled towards the ground below, the presence in the Pharact now completely gone.

——

“He’s finally using the Antidote system, huh?”

“It’s his best way to force it to his terms, he can’t contend if she’s flying. Don’t you think he’s more aggressive than usual today, Secelia?”

Rouji was looking up at his housemate, still a little concerned after Shaddiq’s attack towards the Pharact’s chest.

“He’s blowing off steam. After the election, he probably won’t be allowed to get in a mobile suit, much less fight someone. It’s unfortunate for Suletta that she’s on the receiving end of this.”

Rouji sighed, frustration mounting as he felt like he was repeating himself on this point. He could feel that something was wrong with this duel, and Shaddiq as a whole, but Secelia kept deflecting it.

“Is that why he targeted Suletta’s c-“

He was met with another finger over his mouth.

“You can’t prove that, so don’t even say it. Remember who’s in the room with us. We couldn’t stop it even if we wanted to.”

Secelia’s voice dropped to a low whisper, though none of the Valkyries seated behind her seemed to care. Sabina looked anxious, something visibly wearing at her, while Maisie and Ireesha may as well have been in a different world, the brunette wrapped in a gentle embrace while her partner gently stroked her hair.

Rouji sighed again and turned back towards the screen. This was a dead-end topic and at this point he felt better served saving his breath.

He quickly found himself wrapped from behind in Secelia’s arms. She leaned over and pulled him against her chest, head resting atop his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Rouji. I know you don’t like Shaddiq, but…just trust Mr. Burion’s judgment. He wouldn’t have allied with him if he didn’t believe in him.”

Rouji relented a little, nodding softly before turning his attention back to the duel.

Suletta was still without her Permet link, the normally red spots on the Pharact’s shoulders and chest completely empty. Despite this, she was using the Peil suit’s mobility to stay just out of the way of the beam bracer’s attacks. Unfortunately, Rouji noticed, she was once again running out of space. The waterfall, and with it the side of the mountain, were approaching her rear.

——

“Fight with all you’ve got, Suletta Mercury! Don’t let yourself go out so quietly!”

Shaddiq’s voice had only gotten louder and more aggressive as Suletta had struggled through the loss of her Permet links. She was once again alone in the cockpit of the Pharact, struggling to get a lock on the bobbing and weaving Michaelis. She was balancing the movement, the weaponry, and the overwhelming fear that Shaddiq was actually going to kill her before the duel could end.

She couldn’t access the general radio in the Gundam, and she didn’t have the time to try a single alternative, with any brief distraction likely to cost her the small advantage she had built up. Every tree she avoided and every arquebus shot she sent just wide just compounded the creeping hopelessness of this fight, and the fear of what awaited her when she ran out of space.

She fired another beam shot into the trees, but this time the only thing that dodged it was the beam bracer. The Michaelis had left her line of sight. As she scanned the forest around her a flash of white pulled her attention completely away from the beam bracer.

Suletta paid for it, a beam from it catching the wrist of the Pharact and destroying the beam saber holster and the manipulator. The arquebus crashed gracelessly to the damp earth, leaving her with only one weapon.

As Suletta readied her final saber, the Michaelis crashed against her side, jolting her against the sides of the cockpit and the Pharact careening towards the edge of the waterfall basin. The bracer followed behind, the wire snaking between the trees as Shaddiq closed in. Her back was against the wall now, and the Michaelis' bracer was alternating its attacks to either side. It went after the Pharact’s shoulder and she would deflect it away, only to have to pivot in the next second to stop it from destroying her knee joint. With the Gundam still under the effect of Antidote, Suletta was getting exhausted and overwhelmed.

“Don’t worry, Suletta. I’ll make sure Miorine is happy. She needs more than what a backwater Gundam pilot can give, you know? I’ve known her longer, anyways.”

He’s…right, isn’t he?

The thought was sudden, intrusive. It echoed around her head, seeming to get louder each time it repeated.

What use have you been to her since Plant Quetta? She hasn’t had the time for you, because you’re just…useless. She’s got a company to run, and all you’ve got for your future is a list. Face it, Suletta. You’re a child, she’s a CEO. Maybe it’s time to…move on.

Suletta let her arms drop from the controls as the bracer came for the Pharact’s arm again. Instead of a slicing blow with its saber, it instead gripped the elbow of the Pharact, the small claws on each shield panel digging in to the metal. With an ear-shredding screech, the bracer ripped the arm off before retreating to the Michaelis like a hunting dog with its prize.

Suletta experienced the damage to her Gundam like a spectator. She was rattled around the cockpit as it stumbled backwards into the wall, but she felt nothing. She watched Shaddiq pry the Pharact’s beam saber from its severed arm and recall the bracer to his arm.

The Michaelis took slow, deliberate steps towards its wounded prey. Suletta recognized that she should be feeling fear, yet the roar of the waterfall beside her was the only thing in her mind. She watched as the two beam sabers in her opponent’s hands activated, neon-green shining in the shade of the basin.

Suletta was tired. She had cast aside her hope and her dreams. She just wanted this to be over.

Suletta was alone, in the cockpit of a mobile suit that wasn’t hers, as emergency alarms blared. She just wanted familiarity again.

Suletta was in freefall, and then she wasn’t.

And as she wished for something to be constant in her life, everything went dark.

—-

She was right.

She had been right the whole time.

But it wasn’t too late to act, to try and right the wrong.

Sabina watched as Shaddiq calmly closed in on the defenseless Pharact. The lack of radio communications echoing around the committee room unsettled her. She knew this strategy, she had even helped implement in during several duels.

Shaddiq had a particular plan, reserved for select opponents, that necessitated complete privacy. A subtle bit of sabotage to some communications equipment, and Shaddiq had free reign to tear his opponent down mentally as well as physically.

He, nor any of her companions, had elected to inform her that he was using this strategy today, however. And as the pride of Grassley let loose its assault on the enemy Sabina knew was already demoralized and hopeless, the pit in her stomach grew.

Suletta had all but given up. The Pharact hadn’t moved in over a minute. It was Shaddiq’s win, yet nobody had sounded the victory in his name.

One blade slashed down. The remaining arm of the Pharact fell to the ground.

The shoulder of the other followed behind it in quick succession.

The drone binder flew into the waterfall basin, cleaved from its perch above the shoulder.

A blade slashed upwards. The other drone binder dropped to the dirt.

The stolen beam saber slashed horizontally this time. The legs and half the waist of the Pharact formed a funeral pyre below the upper body of the humiliated Gundam.

The beam bracer jabbed forward, but its saber had retreated.

Instead, Shaddiq clutched the undamaged head of Suletta’s mobile suit in his claws. It was the only thing keeping the Pharact from dropping onto its grave. The severed wires hung limply downwards as the quickly draining hydraulic fluids saturated the dirt further. It felt like time had run to a standstill, waiting for the ultimatum.

It made Sabina sick, watching the man she had put her trust in, her hope for the future in prolong such needless cruelty.

The beam saber of the bracer flared back to life, neatly punching right between the eyes of the Pharact. As the green tip of the blade dug into the rock wall behind it, Shaddiq starting closing the bracer and jerked the arm of the Michaelis upwards, the claws tightening and shields clamping down.

The committee room was filled with a gut-wrenching, unsettling sound. The claws of the beam bracer first tore through the Pharact’s cheeks, scraping and crushing the delicate machinery beneath. Next, the top claw dug down onto the shell unit, splintering it and then destroying the sensors in the eyes.

The sound of metal and machinery being rended into unrecognition wasn’t the only thing being layered through the room’s speakers. It took several seconds for Sabina to realize what was mixed underneath the carnage, and that realization nearly made her throw up.

It was the sound of someone crying.

Desperate, terrified crying. A kind that only shows itself when someone is truly scared of dying.

He had used his slow approach to re-enable broadcast comms. He had done it for this exact moment, to make sure everyone heard Suletta as she feared for her life at the mercy of a duel opponent.

As the thought processed in Sabina’s head, she was already at the exit. She gave one final look at the monitor at the front of the room.

Shaddiq had ripped the head unit of the Pharact off, pulling wiring and tubing with it. He held it over him, the totaled chest unit of the Pharact laying atop its own limbs beneath him. He posed like this for a second, before fully closing the beam bracer.

The head of the Pharact bent, twisted, and then collapsed in on itself like an aluminum can. Shaddiq slowly removed the malformed Gundam head, gazed upon it for several seconds, and then threw it into the waterfall basin.

Sabina was hurtling down the hallway and towards the staircase by the time the victory announcement displayed within the testing sector. She sprinted towards the Grassley buildings, passing awestruck students who were excitedly talking about the duel.

“Woah, Suletta really lost! She looked really out of it today, though.”

“Yea, but did you see how Shaddiq finished it? What a badass! That head crush, just epic!”

Sabina felt bile rise in her throat again. It was reprehensible. Spacians delighting in such brutalistic violence, as though it would never come to their doorstep. Bastards…

She jammed the elevator buttons, fighting the urge to try and pry Renee from the command room. Sabina couldn’t deal with Henao right now, especially not when she had a direct line to Shaddiq. Right now, she needed to remove his bargaining chips, and cut away at his strength.

Sabina broke into a sprint again as the elevator stopped at one of Grassley’s basement floors. She frantically counted the doors before stopping in front of an unmarked one in the middle of an ornate hallway. She unlocked it and stood before it as it opened, trying to catch her breath before walking in.

The three Grassley guests, as Shaddiq had called them, were lounging on the couches in the small room, watching the aftermath of the duel. Nika looked to be in better condition than she had before, her arm still in the sling but seeming to not bother her anymore. Elan was sat next to Norea, paying more attention to her sketchbook than the TV. Norea’s guard had gone up the moment the door unlocked, while Elan paid it no attention and Nika stared at it like a nervous gopher.

“You three need to come with me,” Sabina said, fighting hard to sound like her normal self. It didn’t seem to be working.

“Finally decided we’re useless, huh? Now that Shaddiq has everything he could ever want, he’s called upon you to tie up the loose ends?”

Norea’s voice was cruel and blunt, every word an indictment even as she, from her point of view, was staring down her executioner.

“Now, now, Norea,” Elan chimed in, his voice bright. “Maybe Shaddiq has a little more bloodlust to let out and he’s decided to off us himself!”

Sabina saw Nika shrink a little further inside herself as her two cellmates talked about a seemingly-imminent death. It was funny in a grim sort of way, since Nika had been the one person in the room who had gotten closest to meeting Death recently. Not often you can say that in a room full of pilots, Sabina observed dryly.

“If you two want that to come true, you can stay here. You have to trust me.”

She could feel desperation creeping into her words, knowing that Shaddiq would be docking soon and she’d be reduced to a useless weapon once again. Sabina’s eyes met Nika’s and she tried desperately to convey anything that would convince Grassley’s old go-between. She knew there was little sense in hoping for anything, Sabina had done nothing to earn the mechanic’s trust. But she needed something to keep herself from unraveling in the moment, and those guarded blue eyes were her anchor.

Slowly, hesitantly, Nika stood up and walked across the small room. She stopped besides Sabina and looked at Elan and Norea.

“You’re believing her? Just walk into your own grave, huh?” Norea scoffed, closing her sketchbook.

To the surprise of everyone in the room, Elan stood up next, hopping over the back of the couch and heading for the door.

“Y’know Norea, if everything’s as it’s been stated, we’re dead either way. And I’d rather die on my feet, personally!”

The blonde raised a hand and walked out the open door as Norea stared on, dumbfounded.

“Hey, you asshole! Get back here, what the fuck?”

She vaulted the couch too, breaking into a dead sprint after the Peil boy.

“You’d better hope Shaddiq gets you first!”

Sabina and Nika exchanged a glance, Nika’s asking if they should follow them and Sabina’s asking if they were always like this. Nika’s question won out, and she followed the purple-haired Valkyrie into the hallway.

Norea and Elan had stopped at the far end of the hallway, staring down either end of an intersection. Wordlessly, Sabina pointed down the right hall and led the way to the auxiliary mobile suit hangar.

Something about being in command soothed her anxious mind a little. The stakes of her defection and the cruelty of the duel still tore at her from the inside, but right now, she needed to get these three away from Grassley and find some way to stop this ruthlessness of Shaddiq’s. And Sabina desperately needed to not think about Renee right now, or she might just give up everything.

The four of them found the auxiliary hanger devoid of everything, all hands shifted to the main one to allow for faster maintenance of the Michaelis. Norea immediately headed for the captive Lfrith Thorn, ripping a normal suit out of a bag and leaping through the low gravity towards the scaffolding in front of it. Elan followed behind, apparently deciding that he was going wherever she went from now on.

Nika stood by Sabina’s side as the Valkyrie retrieved normal suits and began working with the controls to release the Gundams and open the airlock. After a few button presses, the locks on the mobile suits released, nearly sending Norea and Elan flying into the ceiling.

“Hey! Fuckin watch what you’re doing!”

Sabina ignored the indignant shout and transferred airlock control to the Lfrith Ur. She nudged Nika towards the blue Gundam and sprung towards it, suiting up mid-flight. As the two of them landed, Norea yelled across the hangar again.

“You’d better tell me what your plan is now, or I’ll blow you to pieces before you can even take another step. That’s Sophie’s Gundam, and it’s not going anywhere without me.”

“I…” Sabina’s brain stalled. What WAS her plan? Where did she think she could go with two Gundams, an Earthian terrorist, the former heir to Peil Technologies, and a Dawn of Fold go-between? She was about to give the reins to Norea when Nika spoke up.

“We…can go back to Earth House. You both are technically students there, and you can stay hidden until Shaddiq leaves for the Benerit Group,” she said, pointing first at Norea and Elan and then at Sabina. “Or we can wander around space and either starve or get picked off by Dominicus soldiers.”

Elan floated into the open cockpit of the Thorn, speaking up as he passed behind Norea.

“I think I’d prefer the option with the guaranteed food, Norea. And the not dying in the vacuum of space.”

The Earthian pilot sighed deeply before following the blonde into the cockpit, a yelp echoing in the hangar as she pushed him out of the pilot’s seat.

“I…thank you, Ms. Nanaura. Can you guide me to the Earth House airlock, then?” Sabina asked as she motioned Nika into the Lfrith Ur cockpit. The blue-haired mechanic looked at the Valkyrie, a genuine smile on her face as she answered.

“Of course! And you can just call me Nika, if that’s ok with you.”

Sabina smiled, nodded, and got in the Ur as well, trying not to let her facade crack under the relief that washed over her. She signaled to Norea, telling her to launch first, activating the airlock control once the brown Gundam was in position. The electromagnetic rails activated, and the Thorn entered the space outside Asticassia.

Sabina maneuvered the Ur towards the rails, making sure Nika was braced for the launch sequence. As she went to finalize it, a heart-wrenchingly familiar voice came over the hangar intercom.

“Sabina?!”

Standing in the hangar’s command center was Renee.

“R-Renee? Why are you here?”

“Maisie told me you left at the end of the duel, so I went to find you. I, uh, wanted to maybe go get something to eat, but I can tell you’ve got something more pressing happening. Are you…”

“Yea…I…I can't stay here anymore. Not after that. Do…do you want to come with me?”

Sabina’s question wouldn’t have been audible to anyone if it hadn’t been said into a microphone, anxiety snatching all the volume from her voice. She felt terrible, posing such a life-altering question to her partner, but time was running out. If Renee was done in the Grassley command room, Shaddiq was almost certainly docking as they spoke.

“Yes, of course! I told you I’d come with you, didn’t I?” Renee let out a nervous laugh as she reached for a bagged normal suit. “Just give me a second, I’ll be down th-“

Sabina couldn’t see very well on the Ur’s cameras, but she heard Renee grunt and the sound of something slamming against something solid.

“LP013. You weren’t trying to desert too, were you?”

The venomously cold voice was accompanied by another audible crash. Frantically, Sabina focused one of the Gundam’s cameras on the command center windows.

Henao Jazz had Renee by the collar, using it to throw her against the desks and tables in the middle of the room.

“Henao! Stop! What are you d-“

“SILENCE! You think you can talk to me like that NOW?”

Sabina had never heard such raw, violent emotion come from Henao before. It was unsettling, unnatural.

“You want to walk out on us, on Shaddiq, yet still give us orders?! You were never fit to be his right-hand woman.”

Henao turned her attention back to the girl struggling in her grip.

“I can see why she turned out so undisciplined. Despicable. Another of your failings falling onto my plate.”

Renee tried to yell, but sputtered as Henao drove a fist into her stomach. As she briefly went limp, Henao followed up with a knee to the same spot.

“Renee!”

“I thought I told you to shut. Up.” Henao punctuated the last two words with a punch, striking Renee’s jaw once on each side. “Sit there and look at what your ineptitude has done to the people you love, Sabina.”

“Sab, just go…I promise, I’ll-“

Renee was cut off as Henao dropped her, sending her crashing to the floor in a heap.

“Come on, get up. I know for a fact you’re stronger than THIS!”

Henao let loose a kick to Renee’s ribs, taunting the wounded girl with an almost bored humor.

“Leave, Sab! I’ll find you eventually! Please!”

Sabina didn’t see the second kick thud against Renee’s leg, but she heard it as she jammed the button to launch.

The Lfrith Ur sparked against the rails as it hurtled towards the space ahead of it. And as it left Grassley House, Sabina’s heart unmade itself, her tears lost to the cold, deep expanse of space.

Nika slowly pulled herself forward, grabbing the controls from Sabina’s trembling hands and guiding the Gundam around the underside of Asticassia. The comms crackled to life as Norea fell in behind her.

“Took you long enough. The hell were you do-“

Nika started transmitting the cockpit video feed to the Thorn, showing the curled-up form of Sabina gently sobbing next to her. Nika pointed in the direction of the Earth House auxiliary hangar before cutting the feed, Norea nodding in acknowledgment.

Sabina stayed like that as the Ur and Thorn approached the forgotten airlock. Nika hesitated for a moment, trying to think through what the next conversation would be. She hadn’t seen her Earth House friends in weeks. Either they thought she was dead or that she had abandoned them, and she had no idea how to explain the truth, or what she was about to bring into the house.

The purple-haired girl beside her shuddered, sobs still wracking her body. Explanations would come when they needed to, Nika decided. Right now, she needed to get Sabina to some form of safety. Shakily, she flipped on the communicator and set the frequency to the Earth House command room.

“Uh…hey guys, it’s Nika…can you, um, open the auxiliary hangar airlock as soon as possible? I’ll explain later, ok?”

After a few seconds of silence, the communicator roared to life with the voices of nearly a half-dozen people. Nika repeated herself and shortly after, the airlock began to open. She gave a brief apology and a promise to explain later before flipping the communicator off again and synchronizing with the electromagnetic rails.

Once the docking sequence was confirmed, Nika pushed away the control column and shifted in the seat, wrapping her arms around Sabina. With all the instinct of a small child, the Valkyrie curled tighter and laid her head in Nika’s lap, tears still flowing.

Nika and Sabina stayed like that for a long time, even as the rest of Earth House came down to the hangar and were met with Norea, Elan, and the Thorn. The questions could wait.

Someone needed Nika much more right now, anyways.

————————

“Hey, Guel! We need a few plates of scrap over here, can you grab some?”

“Guel, I forgot one of my tools at the workbench, do you mind bringing it up here?”

“We could use a bit more water, the sun is pretty brutal out here.”

This had become the daily flow for Guel Je-.

No, he reminded himself. Just Guel. It was taking longer than he had hoped to adjust to that part of his new life.

He went about his menial tasks with a newfound energy, spurred on by the knowledge that he was helping people for the first time in his life. Guel was grateful to have a place to be useful, truth be told.

After turning his back on his past, he had returned to the Dawn of Fold camp outside of Quinharbor and been immediately stopped by Olcott, who was understandably suspicious.

A half-hour later, in General Naji Geor Hija’s office, he had cast aside the Jeturk name, declaring that he had no family or company.

Despite a vote of confidence from Olcott for his attempt to rescue Seethia (a reminder Guel had not wanted, a cutting testament to both his failings and the sins of his pasts), Naji had been reluctant, given the recent actions of Jeturk Heavy Machinery. After the General had meticulously listed off the after-action loss and expense reports from the last week, he posed a simple question to the stone-faced young man.

“Are you running because you think you can escape judgment, or are you here because you think you can fight it?”

“Neither. I’m here because I accept it.”

Naji had thought on this for several seconds before turning in his chair and roaring with laughter. After the laughing fit had passed, the large, stocky man had stood up, clapped Guel on the back, and immediately ordered him into routine maintenance and restocking errands.

Guel had quietly hoped his unflinching acceptance of even the most physically demanding tasks had cut at Naji’s perception of him. As much as his exile and time on Earth had taught him the realities of the world, part of him still wanted that comicbook-style growth into a brave, trusted warrior. But he knew what he did for the Dawn of Fold now was arguably more important, and that there was no shortcut to trust in an organization like this.

With the various requests from the mechanics in the courtyard fulfilled, Guel found a small spot of shade. He was about to lean against the nearby wall and observe the maintenance work when a child’s voice called his name from a nearby building.

“Mr. Guellll! Come over here for a sec!”

It was Sedo Wanchek, one of the refugee children he’d gotten to know when he had been a prisoner here. With a slightly exaggerated grunt, Guel pushed himself away from the wall and found the boy standing in the doorway to a small common area, Olcott watching him from across the room.

“You’re not busy, right?” Sedo asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “Can you PLEASEEEE go into Quinharbor? There’s a new volume of this cool superhero manga, but HE won’t go!”

The boy stuck his tongue out at Olcott, who sighed and walked over, clamping a hand on the top of Sedo’s head.

“I said we could go tomorrow, because there’s a parts shipment coming then too, but you didn’t listen to me,” the grizzled pilot grumbled, though there was a hint of a smile on his face as he ruffled Sedo’s already-messy hair.

“Oh, wait. If you’re talking about the sensor parts, those actually arrived today, I heard General Hija talking about that earlier,” Guel responded, watching Sedo’s face light up by the word.

“See? C’mon Olcott, pleaseeeeee?”

“Hey, you already called Guel over here, don’t try and drag me into this again. I thought I was a ‘big, smelly meanie’ anyways.”

Sedo stared at his feet, nervously scratching his arm. Olcott gave the boy a playful shove.

“I’ve got to meet with Naji, so Guel can go and get that stuff, alright? Just make sure to thank him when he comes back, ok?”

The boy’s face lit up immediately.

“Of course! Thank you Olcott! You too, Guel!”

Olcott gave Guel a veiled look of gratitude and headed out to the courtyard area.

Fifteen minutes later, Guel was in the driver’s seat of an unmarked Dawn of Fold utility vehicle on the winding road to the outskirts of Quinharbor. Out of the constant noise and movement that was the headquarters, he realized how beautiful of a day it was. The mid-afternoon sun filtered through the trees, heating up an otherwise brisk day. There was also a distinct influx of nature sounds, a new addition to an area he had gotten used to over the last two weeks.

If there was one thing he owed to Burion and those two in the Dueling Committee, it was this new sense of peace. It seemed like, with Lauda unable to spare any resources, the Benerit Group’s focus on Quinharbor and the Dawn of Fold had vanished. It was a thought that simultaneously encouraged and sickened him.

His own brother had been the driving force behind the violent oppression of Earthians. The implosion of Jeturk Heavy Machinery, the company he had been meant to inherit, was the only thing preventing the skies from being filled with bombs and mobile suits.

Being tasked with the manual labor had allowed him to overhear snippets of what Burion’s grab for power had done, like the Burion/Shin Sei/Grassley alliance he heard Naji and Olcott whispering about. Guel smiled grimly, knowing that he had been the initial catalyst for this current upheaval within the Group.

The official orders to the rest of the Dawn of Fold had been a period of low activity to re-organize and better help the refugees. Unofficially, Guel knew Naji was waiting for the presidential results, because any outcome that involved Grassley near the top meant a prime position for the Dawn of Fold. As much as he loathed the idea of working with Shaddiq, such an Earthian-friendly alliance in power would finally give them equal footing with Spacians, and that was more important than high school pettiness.

The peace had done more than just allow nature to settle, however. For the first time in a long time, at least from what Guel had heard around camp, they had been able to properly mourn their comrades. Closure and a feeling of safety had done a lot for morale, and even the usually cold Olcott had begun to act more personably, especially around Sedo.

Sedo was another issue entirely, however. He had refused to leave with the refugees, instead saying he wanted to stay with Seethia. Now, he was adamant about becoming a soldier and piloting a mobile suit. Naji, at the quiet insistence of Olcott, had allowed him to stay and do small tasks around the camp, but Guel knew it wouldn’t be enough for him soon enough. Not when the poor kid was still trying to process Seethia’s death.

Sedo tried to act tough (his Olcott impression, he called it when the veteran pilot wasn’t around), but Guel had seen him crack and cry over her. He certainly didn’t have the room to tell the boy to move on, not when his own guilt stalked his restless nights, but someone needed to talk with him about it.

Guel slowed the vehicle to a stop on a quiet street corner, the suburbs of Quinharbor having been abandoned long ago thanks to Benerit attacks. Naji didn’t want anyone taking their vehicles into the city proper, so they took advantage of the bombed-out residential blocks and walked the rest of the way to get supplies.

The weather in the city was just as nice, but walking over cracked pavement and around the shells of houses inspired a much more unsettling feeling than a quiet, green forest. Eventually, Guel started to pass more people and storefronts, the deserted suburbs shifting into various small markets and multi-family houses. A few passersby nodded to him as he walked the streets, recognition and gratitude on their faces. The Dawn of Fold had a sort of verbal agreement with businesses and Earthian leaders regarding supplies, which had formed an unspoken bond between the group and the citizens. They agreed to sell supplies to the Dawn of Fold, and received protection and a voice when it came to political matters as added bonuses.

Guel found the correct store in short order, one of the few in the whole city that sold non-personal electronics, and gave the name Gregor for the order pick-up. He had yet to be told the reason everything was ordered under that name, but every time it got brought up, Olcott deliberately avoided Naji’s gaze in a way that forced the general to choke down laughter before speaking again. The owner simply nodded once and beckoned him to the back room. He reviewed the invoice sheet, verified the contents of the small box the owner handed him, and signed off on it.

In and out in five minutes, something that had quickly become Guel’s favorite thing about Earthian stores. No useless chatting or incompetent managers failing to find items, just a simple transaction. With the box in one hand, he headed further into the commerce district of Quinharbor, looking for a store that sold manga.

It was a funny bit of cognitive dissonance, Guel thought as he passed a brightly-colored fast food place. In his pocket he had important military sensors designed to improve mobile suit systems, and now he was going to buy a picture book for a child. Certainly not where he expected life would take him, if he was being honest.

The front facade of the bookstore felt a little out of place on its particular street, a reserved brown and green awning fighting for attention against loud red and yellow buildings. The interior was similar, a calmness washing over Guel as he slowly walked the rows of bookshelves. Eventually he made his way to a section that broke slightly from the brown and green theming of the rest of the store. It declared, with a blue and yellow sign, that it was for comic books and manga.

Guel began scanning the shelves, remembering that Sedo was looking for the 17th volume of a series about monkey-like aliens who were experts in martial arts. He was so absorbed in the search that he failed to notice the one other person in the section with him until he had accidentally put an elbow in their shoulder.

“Oh, damnit…I’m really sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Guel apologized, backing up and looking at the person he had run into.

They were head and shoulders shorter than he was, so his gaze worked downward as he spoke.

“Are you alright?”

They had an interesting haircut, a bun of light-brown hair that looked like a pineapple stem sat atop a messy, cheek-length cut of the same color.

Guel opened his mouth to continue his embarrassed apology when he found himself looking into a pair of familiar, fierce amber eyes.

“Felsi?”

————————

Secelia paced nervously in the Benerit front’s elevator lobby, high heels tapping on the tiling as she kept looking at the button to go up. She was wearing a dress for the first time in what seemed like forever, and it was making her feel some kind of self-conscious.

It was a well-fitted one with a light-blue sash at the waist, a left-side slit starting just past her knees. It was sleeveless, the fabric pleating across her chest and covering only her right shoulder. The most striking feature, however, was the deep violet color. It looked like it was shifting and swirling every time the light hit it, giving the impression that it was more like a veil of smoke than a piece of clothing. Secelia had straightened her hair a little bit, but had mostly left it as she usually had it, choosing to accentuate the outfit with some of her own accessories.

She easily could have gotten a dress, jewelry, and a hairstylist with just a few calls to the right people, but the idea of relying on her family for an event like this made her gag. She’d chosen to help Mr. Burion for the express purpose of escaping that kind of co-dependence, after all. So Secelia had paired the dress she’d bought for a school event freshman year with a pair of golden hoop earrings and a silver necklace set with a sapphire, both birthday presents from distant relatives. Her heels were simple black ones, bought for the same school event, and she’d gone for a little bit of extra eyeliner as well.

Secelia had looked in the mirror after she’d finished getting ready and had been pleasantly surprised. She had no idea what to expect for this event, the invite coming last-minute in very typical style for Mr. Burion, so she had fallen back to whatever she could remember from the fancy events she’d been paraded around to when she was growing up. The only other guests she knew about were Mr. Burion and Rouji, giving her very little information to go on.

Speaking of Rouji, where the hell was he? He’d asked her to wait for him before heading up to the event, and somehow she had beaten him here. Truthfully, Secelia had started preparing before she’d really needed to, though she also wanted to blame that on him. He was the only reason she was putting the extra effort in, especially once her brain had decided to connect some dots and see this as a date. Sure, there were going to be other people, but it was still her and Rouji in a formal setting, spending time together. Just that was enough to make her heart rate quicken.

“Ah…I hope you weren’t waiting long, I, uh, had some trouble with the ti-“

A quiet voice sounded from the entrance to the lobby and Secelia turned to see Rouji walking in, his sentence ending abruptly as their eyes met.

He was dressed in a sharp black sport coat with a light blue dress shirt underneath, paired with a pair of white dress trousers and polished black dress shoes. His tie was black with thin silver lines spiraling down it, partially hidden by the buttoned sport coat. Secelia had never given much thought to her own mental ideal of the word “handsome”, but if someone asked, she would have an answer now.

Rouji looked similarly awestruck, the sight Secelia in something other than a school uniform or some form of casualwear causing his emotions to reflect on his face.

“You, ah…you look fantastic, Secelia,” the blue-haired boy blushed, finding it hard to meet her eyes again.

“Y-you look amazing yourself, I wouldn’t mind seeing outfits like that more often.”

Now it was Secelia’s turn to blush and look away, an awkwardness filling the elevator lobby. Rouji dispelled it a little bit, suddenly chuckling a little bit.

“W-well, this is mostly from Mr. Burion, so I don’t know how likely that is.”

“Ah…well, maybe he’ll let you have it,” Secelia capitalized on the small bit of conversation, desperate to keep it from lapsing into an awkward silence again. “Anyways, we should probably go up now, he’s probably been waiting for us.”

On the floor Mr. Burion had told them to come to, Secelia and Rouji stepped out of the elevator and into something they certainly hadn’t expected.

The room was arranged very similarly to a living room, a large square table surrounded by couches on three sides and a monitor on the fourth side. Secelia hadn’t expected many guests to begin with, but it looked like the only other people invited were Shaddiq and, for some reason, Prospera Mercury. They were seated around Mr. Burion, talking idly and sipping something out of cocktail glasses.

Shaddiq was dressed in his usual gray, black, and red formal suit, his blonde hair combed and neat. Mr. Burion was dressed in another of his distinct suits, this one comprised of a tan tweed suit jacket with lines of dark brown and white forming a large checkered pattern matched with a similar pair of pants, a silver and blue striped tie set against it all. Prospera was in her silver mask as usual, paired with a royal blue suit jacket and pants, a light gray dress shirt underneath the buttoned jacket.

The three of them turned to face Secelia and Rouji at the same time, Mr. Burion standing up and welcoming them.

“Secelia! Rouji! I’m so glad you could make it. You both look incredible, I’m glad that those clothes fit you, Rouji!”

“Thank you, sir. If I can ask, though, what’s the occasion?”

Rouji asked the question Secelia was thinking, and Mr. Burion’s reaction confirmed her suspicions.

“D-did I forget to tell you?” The Burion CEO’s expression muddled as he looked at them both. “Oh my, I did it again! I’m terribly sorry, it’s been so busy lately. Tonight is when the results of the Benerit Group presidential race will be announced. That’s why Mr. Zenelli and Ms. Mercury are here, I’ll be announcing them as my…advisors, I think would be the best term.”

Mr. Burion smiled again and clapped his hands once before gesturing to the far end of the room, where several tables of food and drink were set up.

“But enough about politics, I’m sure you don’t care one bit! I wanted you two to join me tonight because I owe this to you both, my valiant pilots! Enjoy the refreshments and the night, I’ll handle the heavy lifting!”

With a little flourish of his hand towards the back tables again, Mr. Burion took his place on the couch and resumed the prior conversation. Secelia exchanged a glance with Rouji, not really knowing how to handle the situation. With a shrug, Secelia made her way to the refreshment tables, Rouji close behind.

With full plates and a glass each of something that Secelia assumed was an expensive kind of champagne, they found a small enclosed balcony-style area that looked out at the space surrounding the front. She’d wanted to find a spot on the couch, but Rouji had gently steered her through the door, not wanting to be in the middle of whatever politicking was happening.

She couldn’t really disagree with that sentiment, Secelia thought as she sat in a soft lounge chair, Rouji in a similar one beside her. She had seen too much of Shaddiq lately, and with the expression he was wearing and the glaring fact that he was unaccompanied, she wanted NOTHING to do with him. Not to mention that she wanted to steer clear of whatever that skeleton-masked witch wanted with him and Mr. Burion.

So Secelia contented herself with enjoying a free meal and Rouji’s company instead, gazing out at the very starry spacescape and generally unwinding from the unrelenting whirlwind that had become her life since the Rumble Ring.

“You know, Rouji,” she quipped between bites. “If you told me that Mr. Burion’s plan to have us pilot for him would lead to hors d'oeuvres and champagne at a presidential announcement party, I think I would’ve said yes a lot faster.”

“I think you said yes pretty quickly anyways. You were excited the first time you stepped in the hangar, and you’ve only gotten more excited since,” Rouji laughed, his plate resting on top of his knees.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

“That you’ve become a bit of an adrenaline junkie, Secelia. It’s…fun, I’m not used to seeing you so passionate. Though you do get very…shouty, like against Felsi.”

The silver-haired girl blushed and nearly choked on the food in her mouth. She thought her comms were closed during that part of the fight.

“I…s-shut up! You’re one to talk, with all your crazy stunts! I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve thrown yourself off buildings and cliffs to take a shot!”

Rouji let a small grin, sipping from his glass before responding.

“But it was cool every time, right?”

Secelia groaned loudly, rolling her eyes and throwing her head back.

“You can really be insufferable sometimes, you know?”

She set her plate and glass on the small end table beside her and turned towards her housemate.

“So, are we just going to sit here like this all night?”

“Well, we can go and get more food.”

Secelia sighed again, looking just past Rouji at the stars dotting the space outside the window.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yes, but do you really want to sit out there and listen to those three talk about managing the Group? And they’ll be on camera once the announcement happens.”

Rouji had set his plate aside too and was swirling the remaining champagne in his glass gently. He looked completely at home in this setting, dressed for business and exuding an air of confidence. Secelia wondered when he’d matured so much, going from the nervous new student to a calm, collected pilot.

Or maybe it was just the atmosphere. Secelia had been trying to match the formalness and composure of the event all night, her success varying. The introduction of champagne was helping to ease her nerves a little as she tried to remember what had been pounded into her head from a young age, at least. Maybe that was where she was failing and why Rouji was succeeding though. Confidence instead of formality…

“That’s also not what I meant.”

With a deep breath, Secelia stood up and, before her companion could fully look up from the spiraling liquid in his glass, sat down in the chair with him.

The seats were large, and Rouji was certainly not taking up all of it, so Secelia was able to find at least some of the cushion to sit on. Her legs crossed across Rouji’s lower legs, the slit in her dress being accentuated by the pose. Secelia nestled against him, resting her head on his shoulder and the back cushion at the same time.

A blush instantly blossomed on the blue-haired boy’s face, Secelia internally pumping a fist in victory.

“S-Secelia? W-what are yo-“

“Shhhh,” she was essentially whispering in his ear. “If we’re going to stay in here, doesn’t that make this a date? Let me have this, ok?”

Rouji’s blush deepened, but he said nothing and hesitantly put his arm around her shoulder. He also quickly downed the rest of his champagne, eliciting a giggle from Secelia.

“Are you suddenly nervous again? The red on your face clashes with your jacket, Rou.”

Secelia surprised herself with the level of teasing her brain went to, but she also got the feeling that tonight could become a watershed moment for her, and she was determined to not let the chance pass.

“W-well…you’re very close…a-and my ear…wait, Rou?”

“Do you not want me to be close?”

“N-n-no, I didn’t say that.”

Secelia put an arm around Rouji this time, speaking in a quiet whisper that she was trying her best to tinge with sensuality.

“I’m glad…I really wanted to be this close to you, you know?”

Rouji didn’t say anything more, but she felt him relax against her. The two of them sat like this for a long while, Secelia unable to internally describe the joy of being this close without drowsiness or fatigue playing a role. She’d finally made the step forward that she’d been too scared to make for too long, and he’d reciprocated. It had been done in their own unique way of conducting intimate conversation, but honestly, she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Eventually, Rouji moved his arm a little, tapping Secelia on the shoulder.

“Hey…Sece…I think they’ve announced the results,” he said as she lifted her head up from his shoulder. “And I want a little more champagne.”

“Hmm…you know how something like this needs to end, first. No getting up until then.”

She met his violet eyes, her stare unyielding as he visibly tried to figure out what she meant. After a couple seconds, Secelia sighed, holding off a giggle.

“I’m telling you to kiss me, you dork.”

Rouji blushed again, but finally leaned forward and nervously met her lips with his own. That inner euphoria surged through Secelia’s body again. His lips were REALLY soft, the taste of champagne newly familiar to her mouth. She leaned into it first, savoring the intimate contact that would only feel this new one time, and Rouji gradually followed suit.

Eventually the need for air won out over their emotions and they separated, Secelia a little out of breath as she carefully unwound herself from Rouji and the chair. He stood up and grabbed Secelia’s hand, walking in tandem with her as they exited the balcony area.

Back in the main room, Prospera, Mr. Burion, and Shaddiq were seated next to one another, listening as the new Benerit president spoke. Secelia turned her attention to the speech as Rouji quietly grabbed another glass of champagne.

“…the state of the Group recently. I too share the concerns that have been voiced by Earthians and Spacians alike. But here today, as the new president of the Benerit Group, and CEO of Burion Company, I’d like to make a promise to everyone who looks to the Group as a guiding hand for innovation and prosperity.”

Mr. Burion paused and cleared his throat before speaking again.

“The Group of old was ill-equipped to handle situations such as Earthian independence and forward-thinking uses of Permet. We saw this manifest as ruthless attacks on innocent civilians and talented researchers. Instead, it was run by old money with vested interests in the continuation of things such as war-partitioning and acts of aggression towards the oppressed. In the new Group, this will not stand. The Benerit Group should stand as a beacon towards what humanity’s future should be, with peace, unity, and understanding as its guiding principles. To this end, you can expect to see change happen quickly. And with the help of two who share these goals, Ms. Prospera Mercury and Mr. Shaddiq Zenelli, we may very well achieve humanity's ever-elusive goal of a world without war, violence, and strife.”

Chapter Text

I remember being told about the American Dream.
The tales of people who, born with nothing, pulled themselves up “by their bootstraps” and made names for themselves. The ones who founded businesses, influenced politics, and made millions, all with only a dream and their belief that they could succeed.

And, as a young, naive child, I believed in all of it.

Born to a family on the fringes of the middle class in a front neglected by both Earthians and Spacians, that hope was the only concept of success that I had. I would read about the old tycoons of Earth and even the new, rising families of the Ad Stella era like Nabo and Rembran. I wanted that for myself, to rise from poverty and irrelevance into a golden age.

These ambitions were a part of my privilege. We had food and I had schooling, which allowed me to focus on them. It was more than could be said for many of those that I grew up with, hunger and homelessness occupying their thoughts instead. But growing up around this squalor shaped me in ways I felt were unique, a background different from those wealthy families.

I would learn later that the goal of the front was to house the veterans of covert wars that were never officially fought and those sickened by direct contact with raw permetnium. A dumping ground for those deemed unfit for normal. Everything that came to the front was at the mercy of those in charge, the rich picking through it first and throwing the scraps down. And the oppression from those running the front was how I first became acquainted with the Group.

They were little more than Benerit fringes, trying to stay afloat as their technology lagged behind. They curried favor by running the front without losing money, and the Group looked the other way as those they wished to vanish practically did. My family was caught in the middle, too well-off to fit in with most of the impoverished, yet too poor for the tastes of the general aristocracy. We had none of the protection Benerit money offered but, perhaps as a cruel joke, first selection of the things left over.

One day, when I was 14, a group of these constantly drunk, angry veterans got wind of this arrangement, though we could never figure out how. My father, until the day he died, blamed the ringleader of the Group corporations at the front, a man I only heard referred to as “that Daigo bastard”.

That angry, drunk group savagely beat my mother as she was walking home one night. She was within an inch of her life when my father found her, led to her by the taunts of the group’s leader. The healthcare at the front was primitive, and for a long time, they could only keep her stable. We were told that it was unlikely that she would ever wake up.

It was all my father and I could do just to continue surviving at that point. Our family’s reputation had worsened, and the lack of real law enforcement at the Front meant nobody was ever punished for what happened. My father became bitter, and so I became bitter. As I sat awake at night, feeling true hunger for the first time in my life, I swore that I would one day change the corrupt, violent world I had been forced into.

Our fortunes, and my future, changed when the failing of one of the groups brought the Rembran family to the front. While one of the front’s oppressors was being cut off from the Group's money, I met the young heir of the Benerit’s ruling class: Delling Rembran.

He was around the same age as me, with the same jet-black hair, his well-combed and cropped at the ears while mine was messy and hung past my ears and over my forehead. He dressed in fancy, ironed shirts and pants, while I wore a wrinkled sweatshirt and pants that had once been a solid color. Yet still, he approached me, bodyguard in tow, and asked me to tell him more about the front.

To this day, I don’t know what exactly led him to flag me down. Later in his life, he joked that it was because I looked like the poorest person in the front, but whatever the real reason, he decided to spend the afternoon quizzing me on my life. He asked me, among other things, what motivated someone from such a slum, and what the dreams of someone who had only known poverty were. When the day was over, he thanked me and, as he walked out the door, told me his name.

Shortly after that day, an anonymous request to the front’s medical facility came through, and me, my father, and my mother were moved to Luna, where a job and medical treatment had been pre-arranged for them. My father wouldn’t say anything about the specifics, but when I started at a new school and met Delling as soon as I walked in, I understood.

It became clear that Delling’s father had done him a favor by helping out my family, and the condition was direct supervision of my father, in order to keep the secrets of our front under wraps. But regardless, we were happy. My mother recovered, though she was never quite the same, and we never needed to worry about poverty. I learned alongside Delling, educated as a rich child instead of someone destined for hard labor, and was able to think about those dreams of success as a possible reality. And it was at those schools where my path to the top began to reveal itself.

Earthian/Spacians tensions began to rise while I was starting university, and companies like Sarius Zenelli’s Grassley Defense Corporation were gaining traction. The Group wanted war technology, and that manifested itself as unmanned units designed to safely deal with the differences between space and Earth’s atmosphere. Delling’s father had pushed him towards Grassley, wanting his son to earn his place in the Benerit Group.

It was at this time, away from Delling’s increasingly war-driven goals, when I met a student of the era’s other important family.
Elnora Samaya was a classmate of mine and a longtime understudy of Dr. Cardo Nabo, the chair of the Nabo family’s system of medical research and care facilities. Dr. Nabo was the one leading the charge on Permet, GUND, and its potential in augmenting the human body for life in space, and from what Delling had told me, Elnora was captivated by it all very quickly.

She was…overbearing at first. The direction that Delling was taking his goals, and by extension my own, were in stark contrast to the human improvement route she and Dr. Nabo wanted the Benerit Group to follow. The two would argue often, Elnora taking issue with some proposed use of Permet or another that would be more costly than one she had presented. I noticed quickly that their end objectives were never the source of argument, just the means. Both wanted a peaceful, utopian society that used Permet to augment the human body and the connections it could make to other people and its environment.

I learned through studying with Elnora that the goal of her initial research was Permet prosthetics and implants for Earthians and Spacians. She wanted something that would enable greater exploration of space, in order to find new ways to put Earth and space on equal terms and connect everyone in a way that avoided needless, bloody conflict. I, as a young college student, was naive and so I thought her thinking was naive. I dismissed such pacifism as unattainable, but I admired her work on GUND prosthetics and thought of that work as vital to humanity’s future.

It was in Delling’s work with Grassley that I saw as the easiest path to an idyllic future. As I had been studying business management and technology, he and Sarius Zenelli were at the forefront of unmanned drone technology development, using a combination of military and scientific backgrounds to overcome the harshness of the vacuum of space. It was Sarius’ urging and the influence of Grassley’s engineers that led him to the vision that would shape his adult life, and, in a way, mine as well.

Delling first proposed the idea of a strong, centralized military that would operate separate from any governing bodies and enforce world order when I was a sophomore in university, settled into a contentment far away from the bitterness of my youth. The Permet-operated drones were simply the first step, Delling said. Eventually he imagined a Benerit Group that would control the distribution of not just unmanned military equipment, but top-of-the-line manned combat vehicles as well. Through the control of all military equipment, a true peace would be achieved throughout both Earth and space.

Delling presented this idea to Sarius and I over plates of cheap delivery food in the common area of a cheap student apartment on Luna one night. We had just finished exams and Sarius was over to discuss some detail of an idea he and Delling had planned earlier in the week. It was a patently ridiculous scene, on reflection, but he was deadly serious and Sarius was in instant agreement. Once again, I was a naive young man, and his dream sounded like the logical next step for a Benerit Group becoming focused on military technology.

Some of the smaller companies had begun looking at things called Mobile Suits, and the early research was looking promising. The refinement of Permet technology meant that all forms of technology were becoming easier to control, and the ferrolaminate alloy that Luna had become known for was more than capable of withstanding the vacuum of space. So Delling’s ideas were not new, just ambitious. It was typical of him, leapfrogging off of any idea he felt had a chance and testing it out as a vehicle for his dreams.

As I considered his idea, one issue that had plagued all projects like his continued to come to mind: humanity’s durability.

A couple of months later, Elnora found me again, loitering in the library while Delling was away on Grassley business. She was more excited than I’d seen her before, and demanded that I come to Dr. Nabo’s lab quickly. I stood and watched as she took off her right arm, a prosthetic she had never mentioned before. Before I could question it, she attached a new arm prosthetic, visible spots of Permet across it. Elnora held her hand out to me and I shook it. The feeling was nothing like I’d expected.

The hand felt almost lifelike, a noticeable warmth coming from it, and it seemed to move like it had always been a part of her body. I stuttered out a question in awe, and Elnora quickly explained everything she had been working on with Dr. Nabo.

Using a refined type of Permet, she had developed the prosthetic arm to communicate directly with an implant in her nervous system. The instant data-sharing property of the Permet enabled lag-less movement of the limb and overcame the synthetic feeling of old prosthetics.

The revelations were staggering. The potential in medical usage of GUND was immense, and I told Elnora as much. I was fascinated by the possibilities of this and how it could truly usher in humanity’s space exploration age.

As I went through the rest of my studies that year, Delling and Elnora’s goals combined within my head. If, through the use of Permet-based enhancements, people could be augmented to better handle space combat, Delling’s idea of an unattached military maintaining world order would be feasible. A perfect coupling of GUND human-augmentation with a military strategy that would allow for order and the rule of law throughout every front.

I mulled over this idea as Delling introduced me to more and more of his work with Grassley. I began to shift much of my free time to the study of drone equipment and even the burgeoning field of Mobile Suits. I once again learned from Delling, working with him and Sarius on a number of projects that impressed the higher-ups at Grassley and the Benerit Group.

It was no surprise to the rest of the Group when Sarius formally invited Delling and I to join his staff at Grassley as key R&D hands for their line of drone and electromagnetic warfare technologies. Personally, I was awestruck. I called my parents for the first time in years that night and told them that I had finally made it. A boy, born into poverty, had followed that path once thought to be inaccessible, and had finally become someone. I was on my way up.

Elnora, surprising nobody, began working with Dr. Nabo at her newly-founded corporation, the Vanadis Institute. She moved to a front called Folkvangr, but still kept in contact with me, yet refused to speak with Delling. Neither would tell me why, so I contented myself with exchanging information with Elnora as my own personal goal continued to formulate.

It was a slow process, with work for Grassley occupying large swaths of my thoughts and my time. Delling and I had a meteoric rise, turning idea after idea into a new component or a new piece of weaponry and impressing the people in charge. Within a year and a half, Grassley Defense Systems was #1 in the Benerit Group for drone technology, and there was talk of finally putting it to use.

Elnora’s progress was, from what she told me, not going as well. Funding was hitting roadblocks left and right, and Permet was proving harder to work with in more complex versions of the augmentations Dr. Nabo was aiming for. She was generally disdainful of Delling’s ideas, having seen his public rise to prominence alongside Sarius plastered across every news channel. Every so often, I could tell that she wanted to invite me to work at the Vanadis Institute, but never quite said it outright.

Our last conversation came about three years after we had graduated university. I had just finished work on a more durable version of the Permet circuit being used to relay commands to drone units and Elnora had finally gotten a small breakthrough in forming easier human links to the Permet. She was in the middle of telling me about a woman named Notrette who had joined the project and was looking into the natural properties of Permet when a news alert cut her off. She looked at me in horror as I read the headline out loud.

“Benerit Group carries out unmanned drone strike on Earth, hundreds dead or missing.”

Chapter Text

This couch was decidedly less comfy than the ones at the Burion House, Rouji thought as he shifted against the dark gray material.

But it was still nice, because Secelia was there. Even as things changed, she was becoming increasingly constant in his life. The election announcement party had been a big step towards that, and Rouji’s head was still trying to figure out where he and Secelia were going after their moment in that small room.

The party had ended shortly after Mr. Burion’s announcement and he had left with Secelia. Neither of them had said anything about what had happened in the small observation room on the trip back, and the longer Rouji went without trying to vocalize his feelings about what he wanted to be for Secelia, the harder it became to think about it.

Circumstances were also interfering, forcing them back into their old patterns of quiet togetherness. Two days after the announcement party, they’d been told to pack their things and meet at the Grassley hangar.

There they had met Mr. Burion, Prospera Mercury, Shaddiq, and four of his Valkyries. Sabina hadn’t been seen since the duel vs Suletta, and Rouji couldn’t find the courage to ask any of the rest about her. Henao looked angry every time he saw her, which was a departure from her usual lack of outward emotion, while Renee had none of her usual carefree, cocky attitude. Only Maisie and Ireesha were the same as they usually were, Ireesha clinging to her partner while Maisie laughed and talked her ear off.

Ms. Mercury had explained everything onboard the ship, with brevity and detail that was refreshing after a year of Mr. Burion. They were headed to a place called Quiet Zero, the realization of a decades-old idea thought up by Delling Rembran’s late wife. It was to be the new front for Mr. Burion’s administration of the Benerit Group, and the method by which they aimed to make true on their promises.

Well, by “they”, she meant Mr. Burion and his advisors. He, Secelia, and the Valkyries were there simply as specialized bodyguards. The Space Assembly League had been worryingly quiet and backwater pirates were increasing in number, so Mr. Burion had brought up the need for a trusted group of elite pilots. They were to continue training daily, and Mr. Burion had arranged some sort of agreement with Asticassia to keep them on track academically.

Really, it was meaningless, Asticassia hadn’t been founded as a school lauded for academic achievements, and it certainly wasn’t going to start now. The six of them had made it, by academy standards, and their normal lives were starting now.

Secelia turned in her sleep next to Rouji as he was reflecting. For once, she was the more tired of the two, having spent the last several days in a semi-stressed state of insomnia on top of having gone through a similar episode before they had left Quiet Zero. In spite of the less comfortable couch, she had sat down, wrapped an arm around Rouji, and fallen asleep in minutes.

It was clear to Rouji that Secelia’s stress was more performance anxiety and less of the unsettling weirdness that had tucked itself into the corners of his head lately. Shaddiq’s dismantling of Suletta and the Pharact, and the looming idea of actual combat had seemingly made Secelia feel very inferior. Two weeks worth of training with the Valkyries wasn’t helping either, given that the four of them pulled no punches and had systematically exposed she and Rouji’s combat weaknesses day in and day out.

It WOULD have been cute, if the idea of fighting trained soldiers and mercenaries wasn’t so terrifyingly ever-present every time they sparred.

And those two dueling anxieties were a big part of why, as much as the time spent quietly resting with Secelia made Rouji happy, it also compounded all of his worries. Nothing ever got discussed, and the concerns that lurked in his mind were becoming too large to brush off. Despite the massive step towards her he had taken, Rouji felt something forcing a distance back open, and it hurt.

Secelia was excited to be such an important part of Mr. Burion’s plans, and to be trusted as an ace pilot. But Rouji just couldn’t bring himself to be as happy. Something felt deeply wrong, and that feeling was only growing with each action Shaddiq and Prospera took.

It didn’t help that the entire building was unsettling. From the outside, it reminded Rouji of a coffin, angular and solemn. The mechanically twisted structure of cold metal was offset by deep squares of red Permet. He had yet to fully understand the blueprints, but all the rooms and hallways felt slightly alive as the datastorm pulsed within the mineral that was seemingly woven into the metal. The ceilings were high as well, causing every sound to bounce and echo in an alien way. And Rouji could swear there was something unseen living in Quiet Zero, watching all of its new inhabitants.

Prospera Mercury was another factor entirely. She had the same otherworldly aura as the building, accentuated by her skeleton-esque chrome mask. If her outward appearance hadn’t been enough, Rouji had also heard her talking to the air several times, but always in a gentle, almost motherly voice. It made his skin crawl. She was far too guarded for someone who wanted to start a utopia, in his opinion. Something far more sinister than a conflict-free world was hiding just beneath that professional facade of hers.

Yet, as much as Rouji was scared to see how the dust would settle when the next shoe dropped, and how much he didn’t like being here, he couldn’t just leave. Asticassia was out of the question, as was home. He hadn’t made any friends close enough to rely on for an ask that big, either. And, well…

Secelia turned again, her arm that was nestled between the couch and his back pulling Rouji closer.

“Rou…” Secelia muttered in her sleep, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

It wouldn’t be fair to her, Rouji thought as he looked at her peaceful, sleeping face. Gently, trying not to wake her up with another training battle later in the day, he ran a hand through her silver hair.

“I’m here, Sece…I’ll always be here.”

——————

Mr. Burion’s shoes tapped harshly on the polished flooring of Quiet Zero’s hallways. He still wasn’t use to just how much everything echoed in the hallways here. He also wasn’t a big fan of how hard it was to tell the time this deep in space. It made every meeting feel twice as long.

And oh did these meetings already feel long in the first place. Granted, it was better now that he was just meeting with Prospera and Shaddiq, but he was beginning to understand the true natures of the personalities he had recruited for his side. Patience is a virtue, however, and Mr. Burion had spent a long time practicing for this.

Shaddiq was, to put it simply, young. Barely out of Asticassia, and with ambitions that only Sarius Zenelli could foster. He hungered for power, and has learned how to mold people to his purpose. His Valkyries were a prime example.

Well, almost. There was one less than last time and the Grassley CEO seemed pretty raw about it. On the other hand, that terrifying woman with the light blue hair seemed to always be at his side lately.
Young, unrefined ambitions were tricky to deal with, but not brand new to Mr. Burion. He had once been the same way, and more recently, Ms. Dote had been as well. Shaddiq could be managed, that hunger honed.

It was Prospera Mercury that scared him.

She was anything but unrefined. The very structure she had “offered” as their administration’s offices was proof of that. Yet, for as obvious as she seemed to be, there was something hiding under the surface. He had seen a glimpse of it once, during his first conversation with her since before the Drone Wars. But it had evolved since then, less of a frenzied determination and more of a cold, sinister certainty.

The changes with Prospera since their university days weren’t wholly surprising, given what Delling and Sarius had done to Folkvangr, but it felt deeper than that. What, besides the death of Cardo Nabo, had happened during that operation? How had it reshaped her goal of GUND as a tool of human improvement?

The biggest question that had been stuck in Mr. Burion’s brain since arriving at Quiet Zero, however, was about the role of Gundam Aerial. Prospera’s words from that night still confused him.

“Aerial is my daughter.”

He had seen the Aerial only once so far, in some form of hangar at the heart of the building. It was refracting the light around it through strange rainbow manifestations suspended in the air, and occasionally all the shell units on its body would flash a deep red. The strangest thing was that it usually happened after Prospera spoke.

The name “Ericht Samaya” still bugged Mr. Burion too. Obviously “Samaya” was Prospera’s true last name, but he’d never heard nor read about an “Ericht”. Prospera would call the Aerial “Eri” at times as well.
Mr. Burion sighed as he arrived at his office door. Everything was still too unclear, and he didn’t have enough time to unfurl the individual strands that made up the overall mystery.

Prospera was occupied with tests and construction on the systems of Quiet Zero (systems, he thought dryly, that she hadn’t yet told him the purpose of), yet she had found the time to draft a document detailing the changes she thought would be beneficial for the future of the Benerit Group. Shaddiq was mostly working remotely with his staff back at Grassley, but he had taken the time to prepare training schedules for the Valkyries and Rouji and Secelia, which Mr. Burion was appreciative of.

All that, unfortunately, meant that he was the sole person managing the Group’s affairs, including the tenuous relationship with the Space Assembly League. They had yet to interfere with the change of command, and had been hesitantly in favor of his proposed direction for the Group. However, they were looking into both the disappearance of Sarius Zenelli and the abrupt failure of Jeturk Heavy Machinery, pushing them closer to the group’s affairs than anybody wanted.

Personally, Mr. Burion was unconcerned about both of those situations. Sarius was a relic, and a war criminal at that, while Jeturk would have been high on his list of companies to jettison anyways. It just meant less of a headache.

His mind still on cuts to the Group, Mr. Burion opened the document Prospera had sent him. He scanned it, many of the names not surprising him. He had kept his own personal list of companies involved in illicit dealings and citizen suppression at various fronts across the system, and one by one, they all made an appearance.

What did surprise him was each company’s “Evidence” section. Prospera had included documents, conversations, and sometimes photos and videos that showcased the behavior that each section alleged. It was essentially a dirtsheet, and it gave him full authority to axe each and every company listed.

Towards the bottom was Jeturk Heavy Machinery, with a public financial report attached, which was more than enough justification for axing them.

And the very last company included wasn’t a company at all, actually.

It was Cathedra, Delling Rembran’s audit organization and GUND watchdog. The only thing in the evidence section was a lone document called “The Vanadis Incident”.

With a click, Mr. Burion opened it and began to read, the word “Vanadis” filling him with a creeping sense of apprehension.

——————

Guel looked out at the rain tapping on the pavement outside the window, and then at the beat-up digital clock on the dresser shelf.

He was in his room, something he hadn’t been able to say in at least a month. He’d stayed in a tent, various cheap rented rooms, and a barracks, but nothing personally his since Asticassia.

Guel turned towards the rest of the room, thoughts of his old life pricking at his mind.

It was dark with no sunlight coming in from the window, and the decorations were simple. Guel still had a particular lack of personal possessions, and what was scattered around was new, or not his at all.

“You keep staring at the clock like somehow you’ll make time go faster.”

Felsi Rollo looked over at him from a spot on the floor, attention pulled away from a game she was creating for Sedo. The former Jeturk House student had become the boy’s caretaker since Guel had brought her back from Quinharbor. She was initially looked at with the same suspicions he had experienced, but had quickly taken to finding brand-new ways to keep Sedo occupied, to the relief of everyone else.

That was also a big reason why Guel had been given his own quarters at the Dawn of Fold camp. After he had explained everything to Felsi and brought her back with him, Naji and Olcott seemed to become more trusting of him. He still hadn’t done any piloting, but there weren’t many opportunities anyways. The Benerit Group hadn’t conducted any further strike missions and the Space Assembly League was quiet too. It felt as though everyone was waiting for someone else to make a move.

And that was part of Guel’s worries. He had been asked to sit in on a meeting with a Dawn of Fold informant working inside Benerit, as Naji and Olcott worked to figure out their next move.

“I just…don’t know what to expect with this meeting. Doesn’t it feel like everything’s been too quiet?” Guel stood up as he spoke, making his way to the doorway.

“I wouldn’t know. I was too busy looking for you, y’know,” Felsi smiled and stood up too. She wrapped him in a quick hug and looked up, amber eyes meeting blue.

“Just trust yourself, ok? I know I’ve only been here for a short time, but I can see that you’ve gained people’s trust. Hell, you threw your last name and legacy away for them. They’re not asking you to run anything either, so just relax, ok?”

With a sigh, Guel returned Felsi’s hug before stepping towards the door.

“Yea, alright. Thanks, Felsi.”

Guel pulled the door open and left, unsure of what else to say. He still felt awkward around Felsi, having quickly gone from not seeing her to basically living with her. Neither of them had even said anything about the living arrangement or a relationship, but Felsi had made her choice and Guel hadn’t felt a need to object. Despite some rumors that had started to swirl.

He stepped inside the meeting room a little wetter than before and took a seat towards the back. Naji walked in, his jacket visibly wet with rainwater, and wordlessly walked to the front of the room. Olcott, sitting at a chair near the front, connected to a voice-only call and motioned to Naji.

“Well, Jeru, what’s the situation with the Group? It’s been a while,” Naji spoke in his typical, gruff business-type voice.

“That’s a good thing, General Hija. It means we’re doing things right,” the voice on the other end of the call said after a few seconds.

It was a voice that was eerily familiar to Guel, but he couldn’t exactly place it thanks to the static in the call background.

“It’s still hell down here, so spare me your idealism. You’ve got your regime installed, so tell us what’s next.”

The person named Jeru was silent for another several seconds.

“It’s still early, General Hija. Please be patient, we’ll send further supplies in the meantime. President Burion will schedule a meeting with Earth’s leaders soon, there are just a few internals to manage. Like the malcontent who was conducting special ops missions against the Dawn of Fold, for example.”

Guel stiffened at this, being the only one in the room who knew exactly which Benerit member had been using its resources on those. Whoever this “Jeru” was, it seemed like he knew that Jeturk Heavy Machinery wasn’t long for the Group, which felt like it was supposed to make Guel relieved, but instead he just felt deeply unsettled and conflicted.

Naji’s only reply was a frustrated grunt as he drummed his fingers on the table. After a very quiet minute, Olcott spoke.

“We know about the loss of Sophie Pulone after the mission to capture Sarius Zenelli. However, we’ve heard nothing about the status of Norea Du Noc or the Lfriths Ur and Thorn. Additionally, any attempt to contact Nika Nanaura has resulted in no response. They were placed under your command, and you’ve had no explanation for this.”

The man named Jeru audibly shifted in his seat and sighed.

“The Lfrith Ur and Thorn, as well as Ms. Du Noc, have…temporarily left the custody of Grassley House at Asticassia, though there are Grassley members working on recovering them,” Jeru spoke quickly, barely taking a pause between sentences. “As for Ms. Nanaura, she was caught attempting to inform front security before the mission and was detained.”

“So why has she not been returned to the Dawn of Fold, Jeru? You were not given clearance to handle matters like that by yourself,” Naji responded in a low, threatening tone.

“General Hija, with all due respect, Ms. Nanaura is a traitor who has clearly decided that her allegiances lie with Gund-A-“

“Silence! See to it that Nika, Norea, and both Gundams are returned to the Dawn of Fold or there will be consequences!”

Before Jeru could respond, Naji signaled to Olcott and the voice call ended, filling the room with an awkward, concerned silence.

——————

Lauda Neill stared into the vast, dark expanse of space beyond his window. Stars and lights from distant fronts dotted the void like holes punched in a sheet of paper.

Before him was a limitless landscape of possibilities and progress.

Behind him was the crushing reality chaining him down.

Another several notices and bulletins had come through today, adding to a digital stack that was quickly becoming insurmountable.

One was from his factory staff at the last Jeturk manufacturing plant, telling him that they were out of raw materials and that the 15 Dilanza Sols were the last they would be able to produce.

Another was from Asticassia, formally notifying him that Jeturk House was to be dissolved at the end of the month because of a lack of funds.

Yet another was from the remaining subsidiary companies of Jeturk, demanding last month’s funding and explanations for the redirection of resources towards pilot training.

And finally, there was an automated email from the Benerit Group thanking everyone for the support of the new regime and outlining the next steps.

That was the one that made Lauda’s blood boil.

“The dawn of a new age, with a focus on people and human advancement.”

Bullshit. It’s all self-serving bullshit, Lauda thought. What do a utility mobile suit manufacturer and some bitch from Mercury know about running the largest military manufacturer in the system?

Bile rose in his throat as he thought about Mr. Burion. Hell would have to freeze over twice before Lauda acknowledged him as the president.

It was HIS fault that everything had gone to shit. He and those two amateur pilots and their goddamned prototype suits. Lauda had been so close to the pinnacle he had dreamed of. Jeturk Heavy Machinery was his, and he was set to be a major player even if he lost the election.

And then that suited bastard opened his mouth, cast doubt upon him, and had somehow won the duel.

At this point, Lauda knew that there was no future through the Benerit Group. The Jeturk name was too tarnished, the people out to get him had too much ammunition, and to be honest, he didn’t want to see the Group succeed anymore anyways.

So why not tear it down instead?

He had used every last remaining resource to make mobile suits. Darilbaldes, Dilanza Sols, Desultors, and final tuneups for his own personal Gundam, the remnants of his inheritance.

Any students and factory workers who stayed had been trained to pilot mobile suits or coordinate a battle.

Lauda had amassed his army.

The next step was to cut a bloody swath through space right to Mr. Burion’s doorstep and throw the heads of everyone who had supported him at the foot of his golden throne. And then, finally, take the spot that was rightfully his.

“Please come this way, Mr. Neill will see you now,” Petra said as she opened the door and stepped inside.

A pair of heavy footsteps followed behind her and quickly crossed the office, pulling the chair out and sitting down.

“Hello, Mr. Neill. I’ve been told you’re in need of some soldiers and transports.”

Lauda spun his chair around and pulled into his desk.

“I’m glad you could make it, Rajan.”

Chapter Text

“Rouji, ready a shot over my shoulder, I’ll draw one away and get you a clear path,” Secelia shouted over the comms, her breathing ragged.

“Got it. Watch your six, they’re not likely to send only one after you,” Rouji replied, the Aplomado’s shell units glowing as he raised the Alethe.

The Kiskadee pulled hard to the left and cornered quickly, Secelia taking advantage of the lack of gravity and dodging shots from a Heindree beam pistol. Rouji had been right, two of the blueish mobile suits drew away in pursuit of Secelia’s mobile suit.

She slammed the Kiskadee’s brakes and leveled a tyrant blade at one of the approaching enemies. One Heindree approached from her front and the other from the right side with its electromagnetic lance at the ready.

Secelia engaged her thrusters downwards and slashed at the right mobile suit’s lance.

“Rouji, go!”

A bolt of beam energy split the void of space and tore through the head unit of the Heindree that had been headed for Secelia’s front.

“That’s enough, all six of you! Please return to Quiet Zero, we can’t have you damaging anything right now.”

Mr. Burion’s voice came through all of their mobile suit radios before anyone could react to Rouji’s shot.

Secelia sighed before sheathing her tyrant blades, and the undamaged Heindree, piloted by Maisie, grabbed Renee’s now-headless one, gently guiding it back to the Quiet Zero hangar. The Kiskadee met up with the Aplomado, while the remaining Heindree and Henao’s Heindree Sturm, who had been observing the fight, brought up the rear of the group.

She was less than happy about the interruption to her training session, especially given how happy she was with the progress she had been making. Finally, after weeks of getting exposed and beaten down in training by Henao, Maisie, and Ireesha (Renee hadn’t been allowed to participate often, to Secelia and pretty much everyone else’s confusion), Secelia was winning! She and Rouji were pretty much in-sync on the battlefield, she had gotten used to piloting in space, and to tie it all together, she felt like a sharper tactical thinker.

Rouji had improved too, at least from what she could tell. His battlefield control and vision were able to make things hard on Shaddiq’s Valkyries even when Secelia couldn’t make it hard on them herself.

It would be nice to talk about their shared improvements, Secelia thought bitterly, looking at Rouji’s imposing mobile suit a few feet ahead of her own. She had forgotten the last time they’d had a personal, heart-to-heart conversation, truthfully. Now, it felt like she and Rouji spent more time on a couch or in a bed than actually talking. Sometimes, one or both of them simply fell asleep too quickly, and other times, more base desires won out, but regardless it was starting to frustrate her.

It was less of a frustration with Rouji, she knew it was unfair to expect him to take the lead on everything, and more with herself. Every time Secelia started to formulate a way to say what her heart wanted, her anxieties took over and something deep in her mind told her not to ruin a good thing. It was easy to let that thought win when Rouji seemed content with their relationship as it was now.

The Kiskadee and Aplomado synchronized with the Burion hangar’s electromagnetic rails and docked at their specific bays. The Valkyries had split off from Rouji and Secelia a little earlier, headed to their hangar on the other side of Quiet Zero.

Both Burion and Grassley had been given one hangar in the bottom half of the structure to store active-duty and reserve suits. This also meant each of them had their side of the airspace in which they would be the first responders to any threat. It was like a little pocket of Asticassian familiarity.

The hangar closed and Secelia pulled her helmet off before opening the Kiskadee’s cockpit and launching herself to the overlook platform. She stabilized herself against the railing as the door behind her opened and Mr. Burion walked in.

“I get that you six are getting used to fighting in space, but do you have to be so rough on your mobile suits?” Mr. Burion sighed, then pointed to Rouji as he grabbed the railing and pulled himself onto the platform. “And you should probably apologize to Ms. Costa, given that her Heindree is now out of commission for a little while. Henao will have to sideline her.”

“You mean like she’s been doing since we got here? I was more shocked she let Renee even participate today,” Secelia muttered, glancing at Rouji. He gave a brief nod of agreement but didn’t say anything else, his expression quiet and unreadable.

“Anyways…Shaddiq, Prospera, and I need to discuss some future plans, but I wanted to find you two specifically and give you some exciting news!”

Without waiting for a reply, Mr. Burion motioned for Rouji and Secelia to follow him and led them into the Burion maintenance bay.

Inside, mechanic crews were darting back and forth between two docking bays, shouting and tossing tools to each other. Both docking bays had a mobile suit in them, but they weren’t ones Secelia had ever seen before.

On the right side was a tall, broad-chested unit clad in dark green. It had large, curved shoulders with visible booster units on the undersides of the armor plating, green and dark gray arms with red shell units in the forearms, and long legs with similar shell units set into the thighs. It had talon-like feet similar to the Aplomado, with a long, white back claw. From just behind the arms and shoulders, Secelia could see large, mechanical wings spreading behind the entire mobile suit. Looking up, she saw a nearly entire dark-green head unit, save for a menacing gray face, v-fin, and large vertical head crest.

The left-hand docking bay had a somewhat shorter mobile suit that was a royal blue with accents of white across the body. Its legs were longer than the Kiskadee’s, with broader feet than it, and more apparent armor plating around the knees. The waist was much more prominent, with heavier skirt armor and two beam pistols holstered on the side armor. The chest was also more filled-out, with vents on either side of the cockpit and more armor around it as well. The shoulders were still small, but the arms were a bit longer than the Kiskadee, and topping off the aura of strength Secelia felt from the mobile suit, it had a somewhat alien-looking head with a sharp white v-fin and green shell unit-esque areas on the cheeks and above the v-fin.

The thing that caught Secelia’s eye the most, however, was a massive, arm-mounted blade that was visible above its shoulder even while sheathed. It added to a silhouette that already had two massive wing-like units on either side and rifle barrels peeking above the shoulders.

She was speechless, her gaze shifting back and forth between the brand new mobile suits and occasionally to Mr. Burion, who was standing proudly between the two units.

“You two have given us such amazing combat data and that, in conjunction with the resources and knowledge available to me as Benerit president, has led to these! They’re not done just yet, but soon enough these will be in your hands!”

Mr. Burion flourished a hand to the mobile suit on the right.

“The MSJ-A004 Gyrfalcon! Rouji, this has a lot of the same features as the Aplomado, just further upgraded! The AI and the shell units have been improved for use in space, and the thruster output and usable duration have both been increased. The underarm launchers have been moved to the bottoms of the feet, allowing for simultaneous usage of the Alethe and the smoke or EMP armaments. And finally, the armor has been improved across the board while still keeping the weight low. It’s also got an improved beam pistol and a curved sword for close-quarters engagements.”

Mr. Burion took a breath as Rouji continued staring at the Gyrfalcon, too surprised for a response. The Burion CEO laughed and turned to Secelia.

“And for you, Ms. Dote! The MSJ-A003 Shrike! For this one, we completely overhauled everything and redesigned it from the Kiskadee. For starters, it’s got more armor than before, meaning that durability will be less of a problem! We’ve also built the thruster and booster units more into the backpack and armor, while also improving their output. There’s also an improved threat-detection system that can detect more distant threats.”

Mr. Burion paused to both take a breath and build suspense.

“But I assume you’re interested in the weapons. There are two beam pistols holstered at the waist, with power outputs more similar to a beam rifle. And speaking of beam rifles, there’s an automatic one and a longer range semiautomatic one holstered on the back. If that wasn’t enough, the backpack booster units have rail cannons on them that can be angled for firing from nearly any direction. However, the melee weapons are the real special features. Each side of the booster units also has a large sword with a beam edge for cutting through things more solid than a mobile suit. A ship, for example. And the replacement for the arm-mounted daggers from the Kiskadee is one large armament we’ve named the butcher blade. It still uses vibrations to tear targets apart, at a much improved intensity as well, but this is much longer and has more power in its swings.”

Mr. Burion was noticeably winded as he did some attempt at a grand gesture.

“They’re the pinnacle of Burion’s engineering team, and wouldn’t have been possible without you two!”

“I…don’t know what to say! You’ve done so much for us, I don’t know how we can repay you!”

Secelia was still staring in awe at the Shrike as she spoke, yet another top of the line mobile suit that would be hers. It was hard to process as-is, and truth be told, she still barely felt worthy of the Kiskadee.

“Oh, think nothing of it! You and Rouji have been wonderful members of Burion House and Company, it’s the least we can do!” The suit-clad man walked between the two and stepped back into the hallway. “But for now they’re still undergoing finishing touches, so don’t focus on them. We’ve still got an important meeting to attend.”

Secelia pulled Rouji away from the Gyrfalcon and followed Mr. Burion through the tall, arching hallways of Quiet Zero. She knew how important and special the building was, but did it really have to be so creepy? The way everything echoed around the place, and the weird Permet pulsing in the walls made it feel like something was always watching her.

She pushed that feeling out of her mind and took a chair next to Rouji. Prospera, Shaddiq, and the Valkyries were already seated, with Maisie and Ireesha sharing a chair and Henao whispering to Shaddiq while Prospera and Renee were silent.

“I’m sorry for keeping everyone, there was some Burion business to take care of! Now that we’re all gathered, Mrs. Mercury, would you like to begin our debrief?”

The Burion CEO sat down and gestured towards the masked woman.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. President.”

Prospera stood up and tapped on a handheld tablet, bringing up a top-down map of the area surrounding Quiet Zero.

“As everyone here knows, Quiet Zero is in the final stages of the construction of its innermost systems involving the Gundam Aerial. This will allow for the complete realization of our goals.”

Prospera tapped on the tablet and a group of red dots appeared at the far northeast side of the map.

“However, someone in the Benerit Group is a mole. The Space Assembly League is amassing a force in this area, including a laser superweapon that resembles a front, and is preparing to strike at Quiet Zero. While President Burion, Shaddiq, and I look to properly handle the mole within the Group’s companies, we need to respond in kind. The Space Assembly League cannot be allowed to use force to exert their will.”

Prospera tapped the screen again and a small group of red dots appeared, positioned to strike the enemy forces.

“Gundam Aerial, along with Ms. Jazz, Ms. May, and Ms. Plano, as well as Mr. Chante, will form a strike team to pincer the enemies and destroy the laser. Gundam Aerial and the Gundnodes will handle the left side, while the four of you will attack from the left.”

Secelia, taking in the preliminary plan, raised a finger and started to speak, but was cut off by Mr. Burion.

“Secelia, you and Ms. Costa will remain on standby at Quiet Zero. We can’t leave the home base unprotected, and we need fast fighters to respond quickly.”

Secelia’s expression visibly dropped, and she fought the urge to complain about how unfair this was. Mr. Burion gave her a sympathetic expression but said nothing else, while she saw Renee give a barely noticeable sigh of what seemed to be relief. Before she could really mention either, though, Shaddiq spoke up.

“Henao, you’ll take point for this, and you, Maisie, and Ireesha will have extra weapons to handle non-mobile suit combatants. Mr. Chante, I assume you’re fine with listening to her commands.”

Shaddiq didn’t really pose it as a question, rather a statement of what will happen, yet Rouji just nodded and stared at the screen.

“Rouji, you’ll also need to make sure you’ve got magazines of physical ammunition, that front weapon is likely to have heavy beam shielding over its important components…”

Secelia started tuning out the conversation as everyone else discussed strategy for dealing with the SAL.

Part of it was childish defiance at being excluded from the mission, but moreso was that the battle plans were making things frighteningly real for Secelia. Rouji was about to go into a real fight, where people were going to die.

Where he might die.

The thought alone nearly sent her into a spiral. She hadn’t thought about that when training against the Valkyries, or when strategizing with Rouji. It was all just emergency preparedness stuff, Secelia had thought at the time. She wasn’t ever going to have to actually use any of it, but it was nice to know how to do.

Coupled with that thought, the next one felt like ice shooting through her veins.

“We’re going to have to kill people.”

For weeks after the Rumble Ring, Secelia had struggled to sleep, because when she’d close her eyes, she saw Jubeju’s mobile suit explode, imagined him in the cockpit as the Lfrith Thorn’s beam tore through metal, then flesh and bone, and then metal again. The thought that she might have to do that to someone nearly made her vomit.

“But what if it’s necessary?”

A small voice in her head chimed in, throwing everything out of balance. What if it was justified? What if protecting Rouji or Mr. Burion meant killing someone? Could she stomach that? Would she feel ok, if only she had a reason?

“Secelia? Are you ok?”

This voice came from outside of her head, and Secelia blinked back the thoughts. The meeting had seemingly been adjourned, Prospera walking out while Rouji talked with Henao. She felt a little jealous, watching him discuss something she couldn’t hear with the Valkyrie leader, but shook the feeling off to look at the person who had snapped her out of her own head.

It was Renee, a hint of concern in the quiet, withdrawn expression she had on every time Secelia had seen her recently. “Ah, uh…yea, just, y’know…disappointed about not being part of the strike team, I guess. You?”

Renee took the previously unoccupied seat next to Secelia and stared at the floor.

“I expected it, since, well…I don’t really have a mobile suit to use.”

“Oh, yea, sorry about that. Or, well, Rouji should be the one apologizing, but still,” Secelia gave the blond Valkyrie a small smile, but Renee kept her gaze fixed at her feet.

“Oh, no it’s fine…I’m actually kind of-“

“Oh, I know. You can borrow a Demi Barding, just in case. It’s probably different from a Heindree, but it would be nice to have the help and the companionship if something does happen.”

The idea had popped into Secelia’s head mid-sentence and her mouth moved faster than the rest of her brain. Renee was quiet for a few seconds before finally looking up and nodding slightly.

“Meet me at the Burion hangar when the strike team leaves, ok? I’ll give you a crash course on it.” Secelia said as she stood up, glancing around the now-empty room.

“I…ok. Thanks, I…really do appreciate it.”

Secelia smiled again and left the room, trying not to let her earlier thoughts take hold again as she walked to the hangar.

——————

Rouji pulled on a fresh normal suit and grabbed the helmet he had stored away maybe 90 minutes ago. The couple engineers not working on the new mobile suits were currently touching up the Aplomado after the minor wear it had taken from the earlier training session, meaning Rouji was forced to just wait.

Having to wait before sortieing for real combat for the first time was an experience Rouji was already happy he’d never have again. As much as he’d tried to act calm, he had felt small and scared in that meeting room as he confronted the idea of fighting with his life on the line. And, on top of that, having to do so with Shaddiq’s group supporting him in place of Secelia.

He immediately felt a little mean thinking about them like that. Henao was the only one who really made him uncomfortable, now that Renee wasn’t trying to flirt with him. And actually, he kind of considered Maisie and Ireesha to be friends, as they had always been really nice and considerate to him.

But in a live-fire situation, Rouji just didn’t feel like that was enough. Secelia had been the one he’d made battle plans with, the one he had opened up to.

Emphasis on “had”, he thought with a hint of bitterness.

It felt like he was going backwards with Secelia, and he couldn’t seem to stop it. The physical closeness was nice (and more than he had ever dreamed of) and yet Rouji wanted more than that. It felt unbelievably childish to think when he was about to sortie against the administrative body of space itself, but he wanted to go on a date with her, watch dumb, stupid movies with her, and do…couple things.

Rouji sighed, tucking his helmet under his arm and trying to push his frustrations away. Turning around to head towards the hangar proper, he found himself face-to-face with Secelia.

“Uh, S-Secelia…hi. Sorry for leaving before you…Henao wanted to sortie as soon as possible.”

A trace of anger crossed the silver-haired girl’s features for a brief moment, but she responded like it hadn’t been there.

“No, that’s alright, I was talking with Renee anyways. I just…wanted to talk a bit before you left,” Secelia said, fidgeting slightly with her hands. “It’s…been a while, you know?”

“I…yea, I was thinking the same thing,” Rouji replied, the awkwardness in the air starting to feel tangible. Again, he felt absurd. They had shared a bed the night before, and yet still couldn’t have an emotional conversation without feeling like children.

“I wish I could be out there with you. I’m gonna be worried about you the whole time.”

“It’s not going to feel the same at all. Henao’s got her orders and I just have to follow them. Hopefully nothing happens here, I don’t want you to have to fight.”

“I’m not scared of fighting, I…just want us to fight together.”

“I know, but I…this isn’t anything like Asticassia, and after Jubeju, I…I don’t want anyone else to die. Especially not by our hands.”

“I know, but this is what we chose to do. And, if I’m being honest…if it means keeping you safe and coming back to you, I’ll do whatever I need to.”

“Secelia, I…”

Before Rouji could formulate a response, the hangar intercom came to life.

“The Aplomado is cleared for sortie. Grassley Hangar is showing a ready sign.”

Secelia pulled the shorter boy into a hug.

“It’s ok, go. We can talk when you get back.”

She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and stepped backwards a little bit. She was nearing tears and her expression was a complicated mix of emotions, a look Rouji didn’t know if he’d ever really forget.

Especially after she spoke again.

“Please be safe. I…I love you.”

I…love you too.”

Rouji blurted the words out without really thinking, and the two stood there in silence for several long seconds before he finally turned around and launched across the hangar to the Aplomado.

He strapped in, pulled his helmet on, and started the pre-launch sequence, Secelia’s words still in his ears.

And as he synced with the hangar rails and grabbed the thruster controls, her expression was still at the front of his mind.

“Rouji Chante, Aplomado, taking off.”

——————

Secelia sat at her locker in the Burion hangar. Rouji had left in the Aplomado about five minutes ago, and she was still staring at the closed hangar doors.

She kept thinking about how he was out there, against legions of soldiers representing the most powerful group in space, and she was here, sitting in fear.

Secelia hated it.

Hated being reduced to hoping that everything turned out ok. Hated being idle. Hated the thoughts running through her head.

She wanted to take the Kiskadee and take out anyone who threatened Rouji, and do whatever she had to do to ensure he would be safe.

But she wouldn’t. She knew that she would be a distraction, and would cause more trouble for everyone.

I can’t do that, because my job is to protect everything at Quiet Zero right now, Secelia told herself. Without me, they’re defenseless. I’m an important part of the protection of the Benerit Group, she told herself over and over.

I am a shield, she thought. And one day I’ll be a spear.

“Secelia? Is everything ok?”

Renee’s voice, coming from somewhere behind the silver-haired girl, jolted her back to the current moment. She whipped around and saw the golden-blonde Valkyrie standing a few feet away, dressed in the typical orange Grassley pilot suit.

“Ah…yes! Just thinking that this is the first fight for the new Benerit regime and all that,” Secelia stood up and forced a smile as she spoke, letting her outward facade rebuild itself. “Now, you needed a Demi Barding, didn’t you?”

“If you’re offering, yea I’d appreciate that. I really do hope we don’t have to use it, though.”

Secelia wrapped one arm around Renee and started leading her into the hangar proper. The usually brash and free-spirited girl seemed to be trying to find that personality again, but Secelia could see that something was pushing down on her.

“We’re actually close to mass-production on the Barding. It’s an across-the-board upgrade on the Demi Garrison, with improved thrusters and a backpack that can detach and carry an additional pilot. You can also fire the cannons over the shoulder for extra firepower. Not to brag, but it’s pretty cool,” Secelia gave Renee the rundown as the two of them crossed the hangar and landed on the scaffolding around the Burion mobile suit. “Here, hop in and check the controls. You’re a good enough pilot that it shouldn’t feel too weird.”

Renee smiled at the compliment, a weak but genuine one, and cautiously stepped into the open cockpit. Secelia followed behind, standing behind the seat as her companion sat down and gingerly gripped the controls.

The golden-blonde Valkyrie tapped around the panels and checked the systems before turning over her shoulder and looking up at Secelia.

“I…could you not stand behind me? It…I don’t really…”

Renee was looking her in the eyes, but could barely form the full request, some embedded hurt marring her face like a scar. Quickly sensing something was off, Secelia shifted to the right of the controls and tried to push past it.

"So, what do you think? Burion stuff is pretty cool, huh?”

“Uh…yea, it seems simple enough. Nothing too different from Grassley controls, and actually it’s more up to date too.”

Secelia gave Renee a big smile and leaned over one of the monitors.

“Well, we’ve got a couple of these, and now that Rouji and I are getting new mobile suits, they’ll mostly sit here as backups, so feel free to grab one!”

Renee looked up at the Burion pilot, gratitude but also confusion in her expression. She was, Secelia noted, becoming a little more comfortable and more talkative.

“Burion’s making new mobile suits? What for?”

“I don’t really know, but all the data Rouji and I generate has been going into them, apparently. They’re really specialized, so maybe it’s to piece together mass-production elements,” Secelia replied in a nonchalant, somewhat confident way, but now the question was in her mind.

Why focus so much into mobile suit development when system-wide peace is the end goal?

She moved past it for the time being. Something to wonder about later.

“Has Grassley been working on anything new? You guys have got the Michaelis and that weird purple one, but surely Shaddiq has something new coming, yea?”

“I mean, probably, but he doesn’t really tell us specifics. It’s not like I’d get to pilot any of them anyways…”

Renee looked down and a resentful sadness took over her features for a half-second before being replaced with embarrassment.

“Ah…I…don’t worry about it…”

Secelia saw her chance, with questions about Sabina’s disappearance still gnawing at her mind.

“No, it’s ok! If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me about it,” Secelia gave Renee her warmest smile and put a hand on the Valkyrie’s forearm. “We’re friends, right?”

The words processed in Renee’s brain for a couple of seconds, and eventually her posture relaxed and she looked up again.

“…yea, I’d like to say we are. It’s…really complicated, starting back when Shaddiq dueled Suletta.”

“I did wonder if that’s what caused Sabina to…well…”

Secelia trailed off as a wave of visible hurt washed over the golden-brown pilot. She’d suspected as much, but now it was plain as day that the disarray in Grassley was because of their absent captain.

“I don’t know why but she just…ran off during that duel and left. I tried to stop her, but she didn’t listen and now…I was…closest to her, so…”

The rising tide of emotion was evident in Renee’s voice, and Secelia moved closer, nearly sharing the chair with the Grassley pilot, to comfort her in whatever small way she could.

“Since you were the one left behind, someone’s taking it out on you by proxy, right?”

A quick, shallow nod.

“The worst duties, no support anywhere, physical abuse…all of that, right?”

The tears started welling up in Renee’s eyes, and she clung to Secelia as pain cracked her voice.

“All of it…that’s why I was the lead in the mock battle.”

She paused and looked up, her expression certainly not befitting of the social status her fans at Asticassia gave to her.

“I was…happy when Rouji destroyed the head of my Heindree. If I can’t sortie with the rest of them, it means that…that Henao can’t have me killed in a battle…”

The tears started for the Valkyrie, and she emptied her heart as Secelia stroked Renee’s hair and let her cry into her shoulder. After several minutes interspersed with the muffled sound of crying, Renee peeled herself from the Burion pilot and sat upright in the chair.

As Secelia was making her way to the other side of the cockpit monitors, a message came over the hangar intercom, muffled by the closed cockpit hatch.

“Attention. A fleet of mobile suits and transports has been detected to the southwest of Quiet Zero. All available units, please sortie as soon as you are able. Gundnode support will activate soon.”

A look of panic and terror immediately shot across Renee’s face. With a confident smile, Secelia gave her a nod as the Barding’s cockpit hatch opened.

“Nobody’s dying on my watch. No matter what, I’ll keep you safe, just stay with me.”

With a leap, Secelia soared across the hangar to the Kiskadee, the hatch popping open remotely. She pulled her helmet on and initialized the mobile suit’s systems. They synced with the electromagnetic rails and she quickly readied onto the launch track after the hangar had been secured.

With the controls in her hands and the beam spray gun in the Kiskadee’s hands, Secelia started the launch sequence.

“Secelia Dote, MSJ-A001, Kiskadee, commencing combat operations!”

——————

Rouji fell in behind the Grassley contingent, a Heindree Sturm piloted by Henao and two Heindrees with Maisie and Ireesha at the helm. Each of them had heavy rifles in their mobile suit’s hands, shoulder-mounted rail cannons, and giant swords with the same handles as the ones he had seen on Secelia’s new mobile suit. Armed to the teeth for massive amounts of carnage, he thought with a shudder.

The Aplomado wasn’t much better, however. Wrist launchers primed with scatter explosives, the long sword from the Gyrfalcon at its waist, and multiple magazines of physical ammunition for the Alethe. It didn’t get more real than this, a fact Rouji’s brain wasn’t shy about acknowledging.

They were about 15,000 kilometers away from Quiet Zero and closing towards the red dots on their maps, scanning the empty blackness in radio silence. Henao had ordered a total blackout for the approach of this mission, not risking anything tipping off the SAL. Their force was small enough to bypass the long-range detection systems as is, she had reasoned.

The Aerial had split off already, flanking to the opposite side without any contact. The Gundam was much more unsettling now than it had been when Suletta was its pilot.

Honestly, he didn’t even know if it had a pilot right now.

The more Rouji thought about it, the more it disturbed something deep in his mind. The nature of the Gundam Aerial was beginning to resemble a deep, angry void, and he didn’t want to stare into it for too long.

He checked the systems of the Aplomado for a third time, a distraction from the creeping worry in his head.

Everything was green, the sniper AI was responding normally and pinging the faint signals of stationary mobile suits and attack vessels. But, to his confusion, nothing detected resembled a frontal laser, the systems only finding ship-mounted heavy beam cannons.

Rouji pulled his attention from the display readouts and instead checked through the camera arrays from his mobile suit as well as the Grassley ones.

About 500 kilometers away from them, there was a force of mainly Zowort Heavies, outfitted with various weaponry and backpack loadouts. There were also a large amount of Cargores, with an even distribution of long and close-range weaponry among them. Rounding out the infantry forces were groups of mobile suits from various manufacturers. The common theme: they had been removed from the Benerit Group by President Burion.

He smiled grimly. It sure was easy to make political enemies, especially when you have an axe to grind. The way Mr. Burion seemed intent on cleanly dividing Benerit supporters into an “in” group and an “out” group rubbed Rouji the wrong way too. He owed him a lot for taking him under his wing and getting him to Asticassia, but a lesson hammered home there was about the ways someone could use someone for their own gain. How to give someone exactly what they want to make them loyal, and to continue dripping just enough of that to make them think you’re the only one who can give that to them. It was horrifyingly effective.

Rouji had seen it first-hand with Secelia. Mr. Burion had been her out from a life of arranged relationships and a role as a figurehead to a powerful husband. He had given her a chance at a real, fulfilling life, a chance to forge her own path, and, most important in the moment, an escape from a miserable home.
It’s not like it didn’t make sense. Rouji had seen Secelia with her parents only once, and he wasn’t keen on seeing it again.

It had been at a Benerit Group conference afterparty, and Rouji’s parents had asked him, at only 10 years old, if he wanted to meet some of mom and dad’s work friends. It hadn’t been as exciting as it had been in his mind, but he had met a kind, quiet girl with silver hair.

She was the youngest daughter of a Benerit Group benefactor whose wealth and status came from consumer goods manufacturing and while the adults drank and conversed, the two had talked in a pale imitation of the grown-up conversations around them. He told her about the technology and science he’d started learning earlier that year, and she told him about all the cool mobile suit battles she had found on an old website and how she wanted to be like those pilots one day.

The night wrapped up well past Rouji’s usual bedtime, and he was struggling to stay awake when his parents came to get him. He waved goodbye to the silver-haired girl and followed behind his parents, until suddenly realizing he’d never gotten her name. With a rush of energy only a child experiencing new, unfamiliar emotions could muster, he ran back towards her, only to hear angry, hushed voices.

The silver-haired girl was staring at her feet as two well-dressed adults, in a state that Rouji would later learn to be drunkenness, hissed about people of lower class and needing to start talking to boys of higher standing. He did learn her name, Secelia, as her drunken parents berated her lack of attention to “advancing the family name”.

Even now, thinking about it ripped at Rouji a little bit. It was such a horrible thing that was the complete opposite of his entire life up to that point. Even when they had met again, a year or so before Asticassia, he didn’t know if Secelia remembered that night, and bringing it up felt too uncomfortable, so instead the memory sat around Rouji’s mind awkwardly.

A subtle cockpit signal from Henao interrupted his thoughts and focused his attention on the camera array.

A small force of SAL mobile suits was approaching. A Zowort Heavy flanked by two Dilanza Sols. Standard loadouts: rifles, beam torches, homing missile pod on the Heavy.

Hopelessly outmatched by the Benerit force.

Henao’s signal told Rouji to wait back slightly, and with the Alethe in his hands and finger ready on the active camo, he watched as the SAL forces made contact.

“This is Space Assembly League Major Jerid Stonewall with the 27th Fleet! State your names and affiliations, and keep your hands off the controls!” The slightly static-distorted voice crackled from the comm unit in the Aplomado’s cockpit.

With a deep breath, Henao spoke over the radio, her voice steady and cold.

“I am Henao Jazz of Grassley Defense Systems, with Maisie May and Ireesha Plano, also of Grassley Defense Systems.”

Silence from the SAL forces. None of the mobile suits moved, waiting to respond to the first action taken.

“Sir, those names come back as students at Astica-“

The pilot of the lefthand Dilanza Sol didn’t have time to finish his sentence.

Henao’s Heindree Sturm darted forward, catching the SAL forces off-guard as she whipped across the marginal gap and pulled the heavy rifle from its resting position.

The events of the next several seconds unfolded in what felt like slow-motion to Rouji, his brain struggling to process the sudden escalation by which everything unfolded.

In barely a second, Henao had closed the distance between herself and the Zowort Heavy. In the next heartbeat, the barrel of the heavy rifle was pressed against its cockpit. And in the next, the report of the rifle sounded, and the cockpit of the Peil mobile suit was gone.

Henao used the barrel of the rifle, now occupying the spot of the cockpit, to toss the Zowort Heavy at one of the Dilanza Sols. As it moved to deflect the mobile suit-turned bomb, Maisie’s Heindree dashed forward, the massive sword on its back now in her hands. Maisie slashed diagonally, a beam edge on the blade cleanly slicing through the metal of the Jeturk mobile suit from shoulder to waist.

Ireesha did the same, and before Rouji could even activate the Aplomado’s active camo, the Valkyries were streaking into the front lines of the SAL fleet and the three mobile suits they had so effortlessly dispatched exploded.

Rouji watched in abject horror as the three of them effectively ambushed the SAL forces. Henao brought her own massive sword down on the bridge of a light cruiser, nearly splitting it in half before turning around and sending a well-placed beam through the cockpit of an approaching Zowort.

Maisie and Ireesha were fighting in tandem, one using the mounted rail cannon to destroy a ship’s engines while the other sliced through mobile suit forces. Maisie danced through enemy forces with a seemingly gleeful brutality, turning man and machine alike into slag and scrap, while Ireesha was closer to a vengeful spirit, eviscerating anything that got close to the other Heindree.

He felt sick and overwhelmed. It was unmitigated carnage. Battleships of soldiers destroyed in an instant, mobile suit after mobile suit mowed down with icy precision. Rouji felt like he was standing in a valley of corpses, like he could smell the rotting flesh of each slain opponent and taste the rising, unrelenting tide of blood that was quickly overtaking the area.

If not for the active camouflage, he probably would’ve been shot down already. After several seconds of hyperventilating, he reminded himself of the mission objective and got his breathing under control. With a shaky breath, Rouji raised the Alethe and aimed at the head unit of a mobile suit that had wisely decided to stay away from the wave of death let loose by the Valkyries.

He lined the shot up and let the sniper AI shut the camouflage down. Before the target could notice the new ping on his radar, Rouji fired the Alethe, a beam lancing through the blackness and through the Cargore’s head, immobilizing it.

The pilot of the enemy mobile suit floundered for a few seconds before seeming to set a course back to one of the SAL ships. Rouji sighed in relief. A non-lethal takedown of an enemy was all he wanted, and he had gotten it.

As he turned the Aplomado towards the active combat zone and prepared to follow the Valkyries towards the estimated position of the front laser, a deafening, roaring sound seized the entire area. An enormous amount of residual force followed, pushing the Aplomado to the side.

A gargantuan blade of beam energy ripped across the battlefield. It swallowed the headless Cargore whole, then worked its way side to side, splitting SAL battleships in half and setting off chains of mobile suit and ship reactor explosions.

Rouji felt the bile rising in his throat and turned away from the rapidly unfolding landscape of death in front of him. As he fought off the sick feeling, he saw the source of the beam slowly moving through the twisted metal and human gore.

Gundam Aerial had joined the battlefield.

——————

The Kiskadee launched into the airspace around Quiet Zero, performing a series of aileron rolls as Secelia hard-burned on her thrusters. Renee followed close behind in the Demi Barding, piloting with a visible spike in her confidence compared to the earlier conversation.

The unidentified force was about 35,000 kilometers away, on a steady trajectory to enter the perimeter in about 15 minutes. Secelia tracked the flashing red dots out of the corner of her eye as she pushed on the acceleration, thoughts racing.

She finally had the chance to be in real combat. The thought bounced around Secelia’s head like a child on a sugar high, pushing adrenaline through her entire body. The tyrant blades on the Kiskadee’s arms felt like extensions of her, sending vibrations through her own arms as she flicked them into position and flexed the joints. She was being relied on to protect Burion from a threat, and it didn’t really matter what that threat was, just that it was there.

She’d have so much to tell Rouji about when she got back. They’d never talked about two different battles before, nor had to fight with someone besides the other backing them up. It was new and exciting to think about, and Secelia knew that if fighting started, she had to put up the best performance of her life to show him just how strong she was.

Her thoughts drifted towards Rouji and his mission. She knew he would be in the backlines of the fight, with those Valkyries taking the close-combat duties, but she didn’t know what to expect from the Space Assembly League forces. Secelia refused to think about negatives, for fear of manifesting them, but it was like there was a little barb in her heart that wouldn’t be removed until they were both together inside Quiet Zero again.

“Secelia! I have visual contact.”

Renee’s voice suddenly came from the Kiskadee’s comm unit, and a quick refocusing of her thoughts confirmed her report.
It was difficult to make out the specific fleet composition, but about 1,000 kilometers away, Secelia observed at least 3 transports and 6 squadrons of mobile suits on the same course.

“Renee, once they come into comm range, I’ll make radio contact. You standby and tell the Gundnode forces to do the same.”

Secelia really didn’t know what these damned “Gundnodes” were, but she hoped they would listen, even if only to extend a verbal formality before the battle. A fleet usually didn’t come with this many military personnel just to exchange pleasantries.

Renee acknowledged the request non-verbally, and the two waited, watching as the incoming fleet came into view.

The transports were generic, bought by every military force of any size from some behind-the-scenes defense contractor who played all sides, so Secelia’s cameras focused on the mobile suit squadrons.

They were all of Jeturk make. Mainly Dilanza Sols, with a fair number of Darilbaldes and a handful of space-use Desultors interspersed among the squadrons. Secelia chewed at her lower lip as they approached, more confused than anything else. Did someone decide to buy Jeturk mobile suits for cheap, given the company’s all-but-publicly-declared bankruptcy? Or was there more to this?

She wasn’t given much time to consider this, as the fleet entered comm range and the Kiskadee pulled to the space directly in front of them. There was a lone white mobile suit at the head of the entire fleet, floating in place as the rest of the fleet slowed.

“Don’t engage until the squadrons join the battle. Tell the Gundnode forces the same thing,” Secelia instructed over the private comm channel and then activated the broadcast channel.

“You are about to enter airspace owned by the Benerit Group and Burion Company. Please state your name, affiliation, and business.”

Nothing.

“I am Secelia Dote, an official representative of Burion Company. If you do not cooperate, we are cleared to engage. Please state your name, affili-“

Secelia cut herself off as the white mobile suit suddenly charged, a straight beam sword drawn. Nobody else in the encroaching fleet moved, and so neither did Renee or the Gundnodes that had quietly joined behind the Kiskadee and Demi Barding.

Secelia assumed defensive posture and deflected the opponent’s blade, sending them veering to the side. The white mobile suit pulled hard and circled around for another pass. Secelia shifted the Kiskadee and prepared to meet the blade of her adversary.

The tyrant blade locked with the straight sword, sending beam energy arcing in the small space between the two mobile suits. Each pilot slammed the brunt of the suit’s thrust against their opponent’s blade, neither force strong enough to offset the other.

Secelia got a good look at the aggressor ‘s mobile suit. It was less white than it appeared from a distance, just the arms, shoulders, and legs. The rest of it was a deep black, and several parts of it were interrupted by large spots of opaque shell unit-esque parts. It had four long wing-like parts attached on what she guessed was the back skirt, and they were similarly opaque on one side. The head unit had a white halo-like part on the top, contrasting with a face Secelia could best describe as demonic. Finally, there was one last shell unit set in the forehead.
Secelia’s blood chilled as she kept her tyrant blade locked against the beam edge of the straight sword. She knew what this opponent was.

Gundam.

She slammed every thruster on the Kiskadee forward and shoved it backwards, breaking the stalemate. Secelia swung around in a wide arc and went for an offensive pass herself, swinging both tyrant blades.

The white Gundam turned them both aside with ease, redirecting the Kiskadee. Before Secelia could gather herself for another pass, her opponent pointed their sword in a gesture of challenge and began to speak.

“Secelia Dote…” the pilot spat her name, disgust and loathing dripping from every syllable. “I never would have thought I’d get this lucky ever again. I would hope you knew this already, but you asked, so it would be impolite to not respond,” the Gundam pilot growled before clearing his throat.

“I am Jeturk Heavy Machinery’s CEO Lauda Neill, and I’m here to kill the CEO of Burion Company, as well as anyone else who gets in my way.”

With a bellow of rage, Lauda shot forward, the shell units on the Gundam now glowing a light, sickly magenta.

“Like fucking hell!” Secelia screamed at the same time and jetted towards the white mobile suit, both tyrant blades primed to rip the rich bastard to ribbons.

She fought furiously, swinging each blade one after the other towards whatever the closest limb of Lauda’s Gundam was. And yet each time, he responded with a parry of his own and then forced Secelia to deflect a quick follow-up. Their blades sparked with energy every time they met, flashing bursts of red across the immediate area.

Renee, the Gundnodes, and the Jeturk mobile suit squadrons floated motionlessly, none of them able to find an opening to attack, or the courage to take it if one presented itself. This was a fight between the two of them and the two of them alone.

Secelia was vaguely aware of a constant string of angrily roared profanity coming from her mouth and filling the broadcast comms channel. She might’ve been embarrassed if she wasn’t so furious at the rich prick in a fancy Gundam who felt like his failings and his goddamned pride was her fucking problem.

The Kiskadee and the Gundam separated again, and the pilots stared each other down.

“Is this really what you’ve fucking done with your life, Lauda? And you think it’s my problem?!” Secelia shouted over the comms through gasping breaths.

“Shut your fucking mouth! You and your lowlife bastard of a CEO have taken everything from me! You deserve some kind of retribution!” Lauda howled at her, his voice strained by the Permet link.

“And what makes you think you’re the one who can dispense that?! You prideful, pathetic fucking child!”

“You know nothing about me, Secelia Dote! I’ll drag you through the fucking mud, and maybe then you’ll understand what life is like outside of that sterile hellscape of an academy!”

“Then come on and, for once in your fucking life, follow through on a promise! We’ll see what ends your pitiful, privileged life first, me or your undeserved Gundam!”

The two pilots flew towards the other, becoming blurs to everyone watching. The Permet glow from the Gundam intensified, and the wing-like parts detached, forming around the straight sword.

As Secelia closed in, Lauda lifted the now-massive sword over his head. Several beams began spreading out from the blade, slicing through the area in front of the Gundam.

Secelia darted between them, feeling the residual heat in the Kiskadee’s cockpit. She readied a swing of a tyrant blade, aiming for the chest of the Gundam.

As she lunged forward and swung, a beam from the huge blade came slicing through the small gap between Secelia and Lauda.

Chapter Text

The battle was going incredibly well, given the massive difference in military strength.

In just a few minutes, the Space Assembly League fleet had been practically cut in half, in some cases literally, given the way that Henao, Maisie, and Ireesha wielded those oversized swords. The appearance of Gundam Aerial had swung the battle even moreso to the Benerit defenders.

Whoever (or whatever) the pilot of it was, they were more skilled than anyone Rouji had witnessed before. The Aerial carved through the battleships and mobile suit squadrons with devastating efficiency, the GUND-Bits destroying anything that it couldn’t reach with a beam saber and rifle. The only thing Rouji could feel from the way the Aerial dismembered its enemies was a cold indifference, destroying soldier and ship alike with surgical precision.

The Valkyries were a different story.

Henao seemed to take a disproportionate amount of pleasure in dissecting each mobile suit that made the mistake of approaching her, dicing them to bits with a cruel passion before finally destroying the cockpit and moving on.

Maisie fought with a sense of determination mixed with enjoyment, a similar style to the one she dueled with. Exhibition or live-fire, Rouji was coming to learn that Maisie was just Maisie, she did what she needed to do and she was happy because she was good at what she did. It was admirable, even if his stomach churned every time she destroyed a mobile suit.

Ireesha did not seem to harbor the same temperament as her partner. She fought like a woman possessed, getting full use out of her walking artillery battery of a mobile suit. And all of her movements were in service to Maisie, roaring towards whatever unfortunate soul threatened the center of her entire world. She was less surgical than Henao, preferring to hack her enemies apart, not bothering to finesse a finishing blow most of the time. Not even really bothering to avoid any enemy fire besides potential crippling blows, actually. Rouji had noticed the extra armor added to the Heindree, and now it made sense. Ireesha would, over and over again, weather a volley of beam fire and burst through the smoke, rail cannon already charging a blast. She fought with the most minimal sense of self-preservation, leaving her Heindree pock-marked with beam burns and scratches.

Rouji had stuck to his role, skirting the outskirts of the fighting and only firing to take the head off any mobile suit that strayed too far from the frontlines. He watched as every opponent he disabled turned and ran back to whatever transport ship remained in the Quiet Zero airspace and desperately hoped he wasn’t just delaying the inevitable.

The Aplomado’s active camo had quickly become unnecessary. The Valkyries and Aerial had cut such a destructive swath through the SAL fleet that he could fly uninhibited behind the four of them. It was as uncomfortable as wading through a pool of gore, however. Rouji was surrounded on all sides by shredded mobile suit limbs, bombed-out metal husks, and the occasional body part. Some of the ships hadn’t been fully claimed by reactor explosions, and inside he could see grotesque, wax figure-esque dioramas of the crew’s final moments. Some still sat at their battlestations, others caught in midair as the vacuum of space sapped everything from the air before anyone could get to the oxygen.

Henao had been right, their force had been small enough to slip through without any early detection. By the time these people had known there was a threat, their time had run out.

“Rouji. We’ve located the frontal laser. We’ll leave it to you.”

Henao’s voice sounded from the Aplomado’s comm panel, her breathing slightly labored as she reigned in her adrenaline. His radar pinged with a location just ahead of where Henao’s Heindree Sturm was located.

“C-copy, I’ll make my way there, everything back here is clear.”

“Understood. We’re mopping up the frontlines and tracking down the command ship. Once you disable the laser, we’ll meet back at the original point of contact. Good luck.”

Without waiting for his response, Henao cut the line and retook the lead spot in the Valkyries’ formation. There were a handful of battleships remaining and about a dozen mobile suit squadrons. They weren’t moving to engage with their opponents, either. Instead, they seemed to be conversing with the remaining battleships.

Whether they were considering surrender or a last stand, Rouji knew it didn’t really matter to Henao.

With synchronized fire from the shoulder-mounted rail cannons, one ship splintered and exploded, sending flotsam and slagged metal flying.

One particularly large piece impaled a nearby Cargore, sending the rest of the squadron into a panic. They turned to flee, and the Valkryies swooped in during the confusion, massacring the remaining mobile suits before continuing on to the backwards-shifting frontlines of the fight.

Gundam Aerial joined from the left side of the battlefield, just over top of the now-visible front, and formed its GUND-Bits onto its rifle. With another roaring sound accompanied by a residual shockwave, the rifle fired, carving through two more ships and taking out several mobile suits, some directly and some as collateral.

Rouji turned the Aplomado away and tried to focus just on the goal of the mission. Not the ruthless slaughter, not the newly-formed shoal zone filled with bodies and twisted metal wreckage, and not the near-sociopathic way that the leader of the operation went about conducting it.

How could this be the path to a society without war? What point is there in achieving a perceived peace when the path to it is littered with corpses? And if Benerit controls all military forces, what changes besides the name at the top?

The questions that had crept around the corners of Rouji’s mind since the duel with Lauda had now taken center stage. He was face-to-face with the horrific actualization of Prospera Mercury, Shaddiq Zenelli, and Mr. Burion’s goals, and he was complicit in it.

Had been complicit in it from the start. Rouji had planted his, and by extension the Chante family's, flag behind a man willing to slaughter the enforcement agency for all of space just to finally grasp power.

His breathing became rapid and shallow and he felt his chest tighten. He had put this blood on his hands, on his family's hands, on Secelia's hands. A potent mixture of hopelessness and guilt shot through his veins.

Rouji wanted to desert, but the reasonable part of his brain told him it was impossible. He didn't have enough reserves to get him to a neutral front, especially since the Valkyries would pursue him if he ran off. The laser was still a threat, and though he could leave it be since the command ship would soon be out of SAL control, the idea of such a wholly destructive weapon falling into the hands of Benerit completely unscathed didn't sit right either.

And, the foremost thought in his head, Secelia was still there. If Rouji deserted mid-battle, she would probably suffer, especially if someone looked at the hangar cameras and assumed she had told him to do it.

He just…just needed to get back and talk with her, Rouji thought. She always seemed so sure and confident, with unwavering faith in Mr. Burion’s goals. She could help sort out this bloody, brutal massacre and what exactly the Benerit Group was doing.

He calmed his breathing down, repeating this assurance to himself as he slowly loosened his grip on the Aplomado’s controls.

With a labored, shuddering breath, Rouji used the mobile suit’s hands to stabilize against the front and began moving up the jagged surface. It was more utilitarian than other fronts he had seen, the asteroid at its base only carved out where it was necessary to fit the laser components. On top of that, it was also pretty bog-standard, seemingly a quick job pulled together by the SAL for this assault.

Rouji had studied these kinds of frontal lasers both at Asticassia and on his own time. They used a similar type of technology to both handheld and ship-mounted beam weaponry, just massively upscaled. Instead of simply charging a small amount of protons, the supercharging method was spread across hundreds of internal mirrors, which intensified the charged protons and then reflected them in a massive beam that could be pointed by shifting the position of the mirrors. There was no limiting method on these lasers either, they fired in as wide a beam as was designated by the mirror position and as long as someone kept the switch flipped. The amount of power behind these lasers was enough to cut through other fronts and scar the surface of planets.

Needless to say, even a structure like Quiet Zero wouldn’t be able to withstand the beam.

The usage of these lasers had always been a point of contention, Rouji remembered as he continued working to find the exterior access panel. They’d never been officially banned, but the Space Assembly League and the governing bodies of Earth had worked together to make the acquisition of the base asteroids difficult and the materials needed to construct the mirror and charging mechanisms expensive. Before that, they had been used in the late stages of the Drone Wars, albeit in a more primitive, less powerful form. Earthians had protested the building of them for the majority of the wars, outraged at the residual dangers of firing them. Rouji had read about places in North America and Eastern Europe where the effects of these lasers could still be seen, kilometers of dead vegetation and pockmarked ground where nothing could grow.

With a dull thud, the Aplomado's manipulator bumped off of a slightly raised panel of metal. Rouji pulled back and positioned the claw-like feet of the mobile suit before jabbing forward, gripping the side of the frontal laser and tearing at it. The panel came free with little effort, exposing the wiring and duct work underneath.

This was so clearly a rush-job, evident just by looking at it. None of the polish or neatness that accompanied a normal manufacturing process. Rouji shelved the “why”s and slid a cluster grenade from the Aplomado's wrist launchers. He rolled it into the duct and retreated to a safe distance. In one fluid motion, Rouji grabbed a bulky magazine of 460mm physical ammunition, a caliber like that of old naval warships, and slammed it into the Alethe, raising the massive rifle and aiming at the exposed part of the frontal laser.

With a steady breath, he pulled the trigger, the force of the ejected shell necessitating immediate counter thrust from the Aplomado. The enormous munition slammed into the wiring of the laser and tore through the shoddily-assembled duct work, leaving a giant hole in its wake.

A few heartbeats later, the shell met the cluster grenade and set off a chain reaction, sending smoke and debris shooting through the vents all across the frontal laser. The string of explosions continued into the charging mechanism, continually shooting out shards of glass as the insides of the front were blown to smithereens.

His heart momentarily eased now that the massive weapon was crippled, Rouji stored the Alethe and clicked on the radio, keeping his voice free of emotion.

“Frontal laser disabled, returning to the original rendezvous point.”

——————

Secelia had often been told by Gundam pilots (well, the two she actually knew), that the processing of time changed when under the effects of a Permet link. Seconds felt like minutes, projectiles moved slowly, and enemy mobile suit maneuvers looked sluggish.

Even without a Permet link, that's exactly what she felt as the beam from Lauda’s Gundam sliced through the space between it and the Kiskadee.

Secelia wasn't able to use this moment of heightened sense to fully avoid it, but she pulled back from her lunge just in time to avoid having the top half of her mobile suit sheared off.

The beam ate through her lefthand tyrant blade, the competing forces first snapping the only object they could, then exploding, pushing the Kiskadee and the Gundam away from each other.

Lauda lowered the giant sword, the beams disappearing. The white Gundam was still radiating a sickly, magenta light from its shell units.

“Are you so delusional that you think you can defeat a Jeturk Gundam? I'd say that I'll allow you to live if you stand aside, but I hate lying,” Lauda sneered through gasping breaths, holding the sword like a light machine gun.

Secelia grimaced and used the Kiskadee’s right hand to rip the broken tyrant blade from the left arm. She tossed it away and detached the shield that covered it, gripping it in the left hand.

“I've beaten your ass before, some fancy new mobile suit won't magically make you a good pilot,” she growled, flicking her remaining tyrant blade out and staring down Lauda.

The Gundam pilot scoffed and let loose a barrage of beam fire from the massive sword. Secelia rolled to her left, weaving between the raining beams as she kicked her thrusters back into gear. She accelerated through the scattered shots, pulling up and down with sudden, sharp drops and climbs to confuse Lauda.

Secelia closed the gap with a burst of speed, swiping at the base of the large blade. Lauda twitched the Gundam’s hand, slamming the middle of the sword against Secelia's weapon and sending her spinning to the side. He re-gripped the sword as a rifle and began streaking after the small mobile suit, firing in bursts. Secelia took the first shots off of one of her shields, leaving small burn marks on the surface, then slammed on her thrusters, zagging between beam fire.

They were essentially locked in a rectangular box, Lauda's forces on one side, Renee and the Gundnodes on the other. Nobody moved, all watching a fight with only a surface-level understanding of the hatred that permeated the battlefield.

Secelia was quickly growing frustrated with this, as she essentially had a wall in two directions while she worked to avoid the sustained fire from Lauda’s weapon. Gritting her teeth, she jammed the Kiskadee's controls to the right, hoping to turn the mobile suit around in just a matter of meters to face the Gundam and go on the offensive.

She'd never actually done a 5G turn, Secelia thought as her mobile suit responded a little sluggishly to her cornering maneuver. As she slammed on the thrusters towards the tail end of the turn, she felt the blood vessels in her nose burst, sending a jet of crimson around her helmet.

Secelia smiled a little as she watched it float just before her eyes, unbound by gravity. It hadn't hurt as much as she thought it would've, instead feeling like someone was using a medical tool in her nostril. The flow was under control now, a small, steady stream that stained her cheeks and hair as she hurtled towards the white Gundam.

If Lauda hadn't been at what Secelia suspected was Permet Score 3, she would've caught him completely off-guard and damaged his arm. But the heightened sense granted by the Gundam was just enough for him to pull the giant sword up and turn aside the blow. Instead of tearing through the forearm, the tyrant blade chipped the top of one of the GUND-Bits. Secelia cornered again, sending a fresh spray of blood towards the back of her helmet.

Lauda was prepared for this pass, and swiped the massive blade across the Kiskadee's left side, cracking the shield and launching the smaller mobile suit away from him. Any part of Secelia not strapped in rattled around the cockpit, and the force caused her to bite her lip. The taste of iron flooded her mouth, and she tried to fight through the wave of dizziness that accompanied being ragdolled by the Gundam’s attack.

“Pathetic, Secelia Dote. I told you that you had no hope against the Schwarzette, but your stubbornness knows no end, apparently,” Lauda taunted as the GUND-Bits detached from the sword and began to move in an attack pattern.

All four Bits fired at the same time, the Kiskadee still recovering after the brute force blow.

The beam fire peppered the left leg of Secelia's mobile suit, the first two ripping it from the hip and the second two exploding it, filling the immediate area with smoke and debris.

The Gundam accelerated into the cloud, Bits scattering around in search of their target.

——————

The journey back to Quiet Zero was as quiet as the one away from it. Some of the debris from the routed SAL fleet had been caught in stray explosions and began to drift back towards the immediate airspace of Quiet Zero. It was like walking back through the shoal zone of ruined mobile suits and desecrated corpses.

Rouji felt every meter of the path back as a heavy sin on his shoulders, the bodies piling in front of his eyes. Being around Quiet Zero, in the presence of the three merciless Valkyrie mercenaries felt miasmatic. The longer he stayed, the closer he felt to the proverbial point of no return. If an entire fleet of Space Assembly League soldiers couldn’t defend against Shaddiq’s specially-trained adjutants, who out there could even hope to stop them?

The exhausted Burion pilot stared at the Grassley mobile suits around him. Henao’s Heindree Sturm was untouched, its dark gray armor free of blast and slash marks. The barrel of its shoulder-mounted cannon was nearly melted, and its beam rifle had seen better days, the only visible signs that it had even been in combat. Maisie’s Heindree was similar, with several small holes from beam fire and gouges in the armor as the only indicator of her battles.

Ireesha's was caught in the in-between of a mobile suit and a moving pile of scrap, much of the normally turquoise armor blackened by beam fire. Large parts of the armor on the legs and arms had been sliced through or even hacked off, leaving the mobile suit looking like a skeleton. The head unit had lost its face guard and the cheek armor had been blasted away, leaving a cracked purple visor in the otherwise very vacant facial features of the Heindree. Ireesha was also missing her round shield and shoulder cannon, one likely discarded and the other likely destroyed by enemy fire.

And yet she had apparently gotten through all of it without much stress on herself. Even during the brief conversation at the rendezvous point, Ireesha had sounded ready for a second fleet. Henao seemed much the opposite, the bloodlust Rouji imagined her with sated for the time being. She had sounded a little tired, actually, like all the adrenaline had left her after the fleet had been wiped out. The gray-blue-haired Valkyrie confirmed that the mission was complete and wordlessly set a course back to Quiet Zero.

As silent as the comms had been on the way back, Rouji suspected that there was a private channel conversation between the two Heindrees. Maisie and Ireesha were never lacking in things to talk about, even if it was just romantic nothings back and forth for hours. They told each other everything, were practically inseparable, and at times Rouji thought they were reading the other’s mind. He’d never seen them argue or sit in an awkward silence.

It was everything he wished he had with Secelia.

They were working towards it, something the rational part of Rouji’s mind tried to bring up a lot, but the jealousy he felt seeing those two Valkyries was near-overwhelming. Why were they able to have a love that was so easy?

He felt like everything in his life was compounding and escaping his control. The slaughter of the SAL, the deception of the man he trusted, and now the slow degrading of a relationship he thought was just starting.

Rouji could feel his thoughts slipping down a spiral as he docked the Aplomado for the final time, disembarking and removing his pilot suit in a daze. He had walked through the hangar, the locker area, and was halfway to his own room when he realized something was off.

Where had the Kiskadee been?

Where was Secelia?

——————

The Schwarzette’s thrusters cleared away the smoke from the Kiskadee’s destroyed leg, revealing nothing. Secelia had recovered from Lauda’s onslaught and flanked to his left, catching him off-guard with a burst of vulcan fire. The large white Gundam turned, the Bits beginning to scatter.

With incredible acceleration, Secelia sprang forward, tyrant blade at the ready. She swung the Kiskadee’s right arm, connecting with the midsection of the nearest GUND-Bit and slicing through. She ducked two shots and took the third off her right arm’s shield, nothing breaking her pursuit of Lauda’s mobile suit as he positioned the Bits behind him.

Secelia hated the feeling of damaging the Kiskadee, both the physical one of being tossed by the force and the mental one of hurting something so important, but it had allowed her to get Lauda on the defensive. Sacrificing the leg for a smokescreen had dropped her overall thruster output by a quarter and the suit readouts were yelling at her in oranges and yellows, but it all didn’t matter as long as she won.

And if she didn’t, well, it’s not like she’d be able to think about that outcome if it came to pass.

Secelia scowled as she split her attention between Lauda and his GUND-Bits, having to check them with vulcan fire every couple of seconds. He was certainly more defensive with the heavy blade and wide-sweeping lasers removed from his arsenal, simply using the longer reach of his sword to turn aside the Kiskadee before it could enter any meaningful range.

Secelia was getting more frustrated with every deflected swing and dodged beam. The idea of getting Renee to take a potshot at the Schwarzette was immensely tempting to follow through with, but there was an overwhelming part of her that wanted to beat Lauda with only her hands. She wanted to prove to herself, and to the rest of the Benerit Group, that she could do that. So Secelia kept up her assault, hoping to force an error or continue fatiguing him with Permet exposure.

Lauda had been quiet since losing the first Bit, no verbal jabs or gloating taunts, and Secelia had heard the gasping, pained breaths before that, despite his best efforts to hide them. He had spent a majority of the fight so far with the Gundam’s Permet link active, the sinister, glowing light still oozing from the shell units. Eventually, Lauda had to go on the offensive or the stress on his body would overload his heart before he could finish the fight.

It was just a matter of when.

——————

“We’ll debrief after everyone is back, is that ok, Rouji?”

Mr. Burion’s voice was gentle, trying to crack through the obvious worry on the young pilot’s face.

They were both sat in a small common area near the Burion hangar, the Benerit president with a fatherly hand on Rouji’s shoulder. He had paced the hallways after realizing that Secelia was missing, trying to find anyone who could tell him why. The hangar staff had left shortly after the Aplomado docked, so it was Mr. Burion, delayed on his return greetings, who had met Rouji.

Secelia was responding to a threat somewhere to the southwest of Quiet Zero, along with Renee Costa in a Demi Barding. Currently, nobody knew what exactly the threat was or how the two of them were faring. It was a good sign, Mr. Burion had joked, that the building was still intact, at least.

“Yea…that’s fine,” Rouji replied after several quiet seconds, his gaze still fixed on the floor and his mind only partially present.

“You’re worried about Secelia, huh?”

It wasn’t exactly an impressive feat of mind-reading, Rouji’s face may well have been tattooed with her name. He nodded, but didn’t make any attempt to add to the gesture, so Mr. Burion spoke again.

“You’ll have to trust in her, Rouji. She’s extraordinarily talented and strong, she can hold her own,” the Benerit president said, levering himself upright and taking a few steps towards the doorway. “For now, just get some rest, ok? You’ve earned it, you did great out there today. And, before I forget, Prospera is about done with the finishing touches of Quiet Zero’s internal mechanisms, and she’d like everyone present for when she activates it.”

Rouji nodded again, and Mr. Burion left. After a few seconds, Rouji pulled himself to his feet and did the same, headed for his own quarters. However, instead of laying down like everyone had been telling him to do since he had gotten back, he grabbed his tablet and pulled up the airspace monitoring system.

As Rouji expected, there was nothing in the immediate vicinity, not even a false reading from the SAL fleet graveyard. Also as expected, in the southwest corner of the map, there were clusters of mobile suits and battleships, set along distinct lines.

What was unexpected was that only two of them were moving.

Rouji could see the Demi Barding that Renee was in, as well as the numerous Gundnodes that hadn’t accompanied Aerial earlier. On the other side was a force comprised entirely of Jeturk mobile suits, mostly Desultors and Dilanzas.

Sandwiched between these two groups were two mobile suits. He had memorized the unit code for the Kiskadee, and it was currently engaged in a crude replica of hit-and-run combat, flying in, getting deflected away, and repeating. The defender was a unit code he didn’t recognize, accompanied by a Permet code that was equally unfamiliar.

“MDX-0003 Schwarzette…” Rouji muttered to himself as he scanned the readout on his tablet.

“But MD is Jeturk’s unit code…when did they get a Gundam? And who’s piloting it?”

——————

The fatigue was starting to set in for Secelia.

Lauda was still holding firm, fighting off her attempts to chip away at the Schwarzette’s defense with his longer sword. He had even dropped the Permet Score of the Gundam, the GUND-Bits moving in near-autonomous loops to reduce pilot strain. They were in a stalemate of sorts, each waiting for the other to make a different move.

Secelia saw one problem with this: she had no auxiliary weapons. Her Vulcans were being used exclusively to check the Gund-BITs, and with one blade gone, she was severely limited. Lauda had the Bits, he had a long weapon, and Secelia had noticed the gunmetal gray barrels on the Gundam's arms.

She grimaced as the path to a victory became clear. She'd have to sacrifice more of the Kiskadee, and probably gamble with her own life.

If Lauda was stuck in a pattern of defending with safe, easy to replicate patterns that would let him operate at a low Permet Score, Secelia would have to bait him. Luckily, he was giving her a lot of time to think.

After several more deflected passes, Secelia darted in once more, this time changing up her angle of attack.

She used the brief moment of blade crossing to propel herself over the head of the Schwarzette, kicking at the head unit and slashing at the GUND-Bits behind it.

In terms of risky maneuvers, it was one of the most dangerous things she'd done in a mobile suit. Even at Permet Score 1, Lauda’s reaction time was heightened to superhuman levels, and if he aimed correctly, it was incredibly likely that she would take a beam blade directly through her cockpit. But she had to do SOMETHING.

Secelia had calculated the risk somewhat correctly.

Lauda was very clearly exhausted by the Permet link, letting the adrenaline pumping through Secelia's veins close the reaction time gap by just enough. The Schwarzette's beam blade flicked upwards, angled to split the Kiskadee straight down the middle. But Secelia was able to see it coming, and contorted the small mobile suit mid-flight.

It tore through the already useless left arm of her mobile suit, and only the left arm. Secelia kept her trajectory and ripped through one of the long GUND-Bits with her tyrant blade, pummeling another with Vulcan fire as she cleared the Schwarzette's head and came up beyond the hulking white Gundam.

The Kiskadee's left arm exploded in a plume of smoke, followed quickly by the two Bits. The explosions pushed the Schwarzette from behind, sending it staggering and peppering it with shrapnel, while it knocked the Kiskadee in the opposite direction. Secelia countered the force with her thrusters but had lost sight of Lauda in all of the smoke.

With a ragged, breathy roar over the comms, the shell units on the Schwarzette flared to life again, decorating the smoke with vibrant, unearthly magenta light. The Gundam came roaring from the cloud of smoke like a jouster, beam sword poised to jab through Secelia's cockpit.

With a just-in-time slash, she redirected the attack and immediately fell in behind the Schwarzette, Vulcans firing at the backside of Lauda’s mobile suit.

Even with a Permet Score of 3, the Schwarzette wasn't a match for the Kiskadee's sheer acceleration and top-of-the-line thrusters. Secelia quickly caught up and jabbed at the left leg of the Gundam. It staggered as she sliced through the knee joint, though there was no explosion. The limb simply sat there, gently floating as the two mobile suits left it behind.

He's pushed the Schwarzette beyond its normal bounds, Secelia thought. It's had no time to properly recirculate energy, so it's nearly empty.

With the loss of its leg, the Gundam continued to falter as it streaked across the battlefield. Lauda tried to slow the Kiskadee with cluster grenades from its wrist launchers, but by the time they exploded, Secelia had cleared the area and was nearly on top of him.

With another slash, she destroyed the last GUND-Bit, this one exploding as the energy reserves went critical.

Secelia had hit her second wind, having weathered the Gundam's storm, and successfully pushed Lauda to the point of exhaustion. She could still hear him, gasping and swearing over the radio comms. It was time to end this.

“I was hoping for more, Lauda,” Secelia sneered, keeping her breathing measured. “I thought you and that Gundam were going to kill me.”

“Shut…your fucking…mouth!”

Lauda bellowed his reply through pained, shallow gasps. He turned the Schwarzette and stared down Secelia, its eyes flaring with hatred as he raised the Permet Score again and readied his blade.

“AAAAAAAGH…I’LL…KILL YOU RIGHT…HERE!!”

Intense pain twisted and distorted the Jeturk CEO’s voice, raw, unbridled fury and rage consuming each word. The white Gundam hurtled across the gap between it and the Kiskadee, Secelia meeting it halfway.

She sidestepped the thrust of the beam sword, letting it pass right through the space where her left arm had been, and swung through the Schwarzette's free arm.

It tore through the wrist launcher and kept going, smashing through the face guard and rending the skull of the mobile suit apart.

The remaining cluster grenades in the wrist exploded, blowing whatever remained of the Gundam's head away and propelling the rest of Schwarzette backwards.

The bright magenta glow immediately died, and Lauda screamed as the Permet link was severed. He was blind in the cockpit, the optical units broken as a result of the last attack.

Before he could recover and grab the controls again, Secelia was blazing across the battlefield, tyrant blade waiting to be let loose on its target.

She lowered the upper body of the Kiskadee and, as the distance between her and the Schwarzette vanished, used the torque to slash the mobile suit’s remaining arm across the chest of the Gundam, starting from the far side and flicking it in an arc to her left.

“It's over, Lauda Neill!”

—---------

Lauda Neill really wished his head would stop hurting.

He couldn't even massage his temples in a futile attempt to ease the pain. Every time he lifted his arms above his shoulders, searing pain shot through his whole body.

The cockpit of the Schwarzette was dark, the camera array destroyed by the explosion of his cluster munitions. The readouts were all either yellow or red, with most of the red coming from the pilot vitals display. He scoffed internally.

Those Permet links really were no joke. His blood felt like it was on fire, and all his limbs felt like they had been broken in a million different places. His heart was beating at near heart attack levels, it seemed, and he was faintly aware of blood pooling in his mouth and dripping from his nose.

The abrupt severing of the link was really what had done him in, though. None of his organs or muscles could really take the immediate deprivation of that much data, a lot of them shutting down or starting to palpitate and burst. It was a slow death, and Lauda knew it.

I think I can say that I've seen better days, Lauda smiled grimly, coughing blood into the visor of his helmet.

He heard Secelia's war cry and tried to judge her distance from him by the sound of her weaponry, since he couldn't do much else

With a shaky hand, Lauda pressed the comm button for the Jeturk command ship.

“Hey…Petra…” he croaked out through shudders and coughs. “I-I’m sorry, I won't…won’t be making…it back home.”

“Lauda?!? No, no….what are you saying?”

Petra’s voice, panicked and on the verge of tears, immediately came through the speakers.

“I…love you, Petra…thank you…for making me happy.”

At exactly the time he guessed that Secelia would close the gap, the left side of the Schwarzette's chest began to vibrate and tear apart.

“No…no! Lauda, please! I love you, don't le-”

In the next second, the blade of the Kiskadee sliced through the metal, the mobile suit’s computers, and Lauda Neill himself.

As he felt the giant metal blade tear his flesh and bone, the last thing he would ever feel, Lauda smiled.

At least his headache was gone.

—---------

Secelia finished the arc of the tyrant blade and let it hang in place as she looked up at the result.

The Gundam Schwarzette had been cut right in half, the upper and lower sections neatly separated and floating independently of each other. There was no smoke or indication that it was going to explode, likely due to the lack of energy left in the mobile suit.

There was, however, a grisly spray of blood and gore in the cockp-

“LAUDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

A pained, gut-wrenching scream tore through the silence, raw emotion given voice over the comms channel.

Nobody on the battlefield moved as the speaker sobbed, a hollow, broken sound occasionally punctuated by a quiet scream of the dead’s name.

After several long seconds, a Darilbalde broke away from the Jeturk fleet. Renee, noticing the movement, took aim at the red mobile suit. The pilot responded by throwing its beam javelin back towards the fleet and approaching the remains of the Schwarzette with arms raised.

The Valkyrie lowered her weapon and the Darilbalde gently grabbed each half of the Gundam.

“From Jeturk Heavy Machinery, we are sorry,” the pilot, who Secelia recognized as Kamil Kaysink from Asticassia, said softly. “It was never meant to end like this. Please, let us go now. We must mourn.”

Secelia gave a quiet acknowledgment and turned around, motioning for Renee to follow.

The battle was over. The attackers were repelled. Burion Company was safe.

Those were the things that mattered.

—---------

When Secelia arrived back at Quiet Zero, she found Rouji waiting for her, pacing in the hallway where their quarters were located.

“Secelia!”

He ran to her, tightly wrapping her in a hug.

She embraced him back, punctuating the gesture with a quick kiss as they separated.

“So…how did i-”

“Are you o-”

Secelia interrupted herself as Rouji spoke up, and he did the same as she spoke up. An awkward silence took over afterwards, the affection coming easier than the conversation.

Neither could decide who should start, or where to start, for that matter.

As she stood there, Secelia began to really feel the immense fatigue and soreness. She also became aware that she looked like hell.

Her face was streaked with blood, dried crimson staining her cheeks and dripping from the sides of her mouth. There were matted red spots in her normally vibrant silver hair where blood had rocketed to the back of her helmet. Secelia didn’t even want to think about how long it would take to clean herself up after this.

No, she mostly just wanted to lay down.

“Oh good, you're both here!”

Unfortunately, that was not going to be possible.

“Would you mind joining the rest of us in the conference room?” Mr. Burion asked as he approached his two pilots. “We need to debrief, and Prospera has prepared a showcase of Quiet Zero’s full functionality features.”

Secelia glanced over at Rouji, who grimaced, but fell in behind Mr. Burion. With a sigh, she did the same. After a few steps, Rouji hesitantly reached out and grasped Secelia's hand, their fingers interlocking as she relaxed.

Neither broke their strides as they held each other in the only way available to them at the moment. To Secelia, it was a gesture of promise, assurance to her that they would have the conversation she had wanted to have for weeks. She squeezed Rouji's hand and smiled, her mind a little more at ease than when she landed.

When the three of them arrived at the conference room, they were once again the last ones. The rest of the presidential contingent were in their typical groups: Shaddiq and Henao talking quietly, Ireesha clinging to Maisie, and Prospera alone at the front. Only Renee was different, a miserable, distant expression on her face as she now sat within arms reach of Henao.

Secelia grimaced slightly, feeling guilty. The amber-eyed Valkyrie, once a massive annoyance whose cocky attitude and flirtatious passes at Rouji incensed her, had quickly become a sympathetic figure in Secelia's eyes. She felt a vague protective instinct towards the girl, and seeing Henao’s quietly cruel treatment of her intensified it.

“Aha, I feel a bit of deja vu,” Mr. Burion laughed as he took a spot near Prospera. “I promise we don't try to be late.”

“It’s been a long day, Mr. President, it's perfectly alright,” Shaddiq smiled, and Henao gently nodded in agreement.

“In any case, now that we're all here, let us debrief and assess both battles that took place,” Prospera spoke with no clear emotion, her chrome mask’s gaze fixed on the Grassley leadership.
Henao stood up, her one visible eye scanning the group before beginning her retelling of the battle.

“At the location identified on the navigational maps, we encountered a Space Assembly League fleet, specifically the 27th fleet, just before 1700 hours. A small unit of mobile suits approached, and LP011, LP012, and I dispatched them before the fleet could be notified.”

Henao spoke with a voice like untouched ice, smooth and cold. No single word seemed to warrant any increased emotion.

“After this, Gundam Aerial emerged from the left flank and joined the assault. Within the first minute of the engagement, the SAL had lost two ships and 17 mobile suits. As LP011, LP012, Gundam Aerial, and I continued pushing back the fleet, MP038 searched for the exact location of the frontal laser.”

Secelia felt Rouji twitch in nervousness next to her as Henao described the fighting against the SAL.

“I'm sorry to interrupt, Henao, but I've become curious,” Mr. Burion spoke up, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. “Rouji, how much of the fighting did you engage in?”

The blue-haired boy sat up abruptly as the Burion CEO addressed him.

“N-not much, President Burion. I was…focused on the SAL’s weapon, truthfully.”

Rouji couldn't meet Mr. Burion's gaze during the end of that sentence, staring instead at a patch of carpeting next to his foot.

“MP038 fired six times, Mr. President. Each shot destroyed the head unit of an enemy mobile suit.”

Henao stated the battle statistics with the same neutral tone, but Secelia thought she saw a hint of a smirk on her face.

Mr. Burion chuckled heartily, a big smile on his face.

“Just what I’d expect from such a sharpshooter! You don't have to let everyone else have all the glory though, you know?”

Rouji just nodded, a blush rising to his cheeks and his nervous posture deepening.

“We continued through the SAL’s fleet, destroying ships and mobile suits, and eventually located the frontal laser. As the main attack group finished off the remnants of the fleet, MP038 destroyed the inner mechanisms of the SAL laser, rendering it nonoperational.”

“Is it salvageable?”

Prospera spoke this time, now looking at Henao through the turquoise eyes of her mask.

“The charging mechanism will require a complete overhaul, judging by preliminary investigations. The front itself is intact, however.”

“Good, good. Please continue.”

Henao nodded slightly to the masked woman before speaking again.

“The mop-up operation was completed shortly after the frontal laser was taken care of. In total, the entire SAL fleet, comprising approximately 10 warships and 20 small squadrons of mobile suits, was destroyed and no reinforcements were sighted or detected. The frontal laser was taken and moved to Quiet Zero’s airspace. Finally, the only notable damage was sustained by LP012’s Heindree, necessitating a full repair of its armor.”

The gray-blue-haired Valkyrie saluted President Burion, Prospera, and Shaddiq before sitting back down. The three then turned their attention towards Secelia, who slowly stood up. Her heart felt like it was trying to jump out of her chest as she recounted her battle.

“Just after 1730 hours, a small fleet approaching the Quiet Zero airspace was detected. I sortied with Renee Costa, who piloted a borrowed Demi Barding.”

Secelia saw Henao and Shaddiq exchange an angry glance and a few whispered words. Her heart twinged with guilt again, feeling responsible for whatever additional punishment was coming Renee's way.

“With Gundnode support, I asked them to identify themselves, and a white Gundam at the head of the fleet attacked. After fending him off, the pilot identified himself as Lauda Neill of Jeturk Heavy Machinery and stated that he was there to kill President Burion.”

Secelia was staring straight at Mr. Burion, actively trying to avoid looking at any of her Asticassian classmates. Now that she had started, she needed to finish as quickly as possible.

“The rest of the Jeturk fleet, comprising three warships and six squadrons of exclusively Jeturk-made mobile suits, did not attack, and so I instructed Renee and the Gundnodes to not engage either. I fought with Lauda and his Gundam Schwarzette, taking damage to the Kiskadee’s left arm and left leg.”

She took a deep breath, the yet-to-be-spoken outcome stinging her throat, even though she knew it was necessary.

“After a prolonged engagement, I destroyed the Schwarzette's GUND-Bits, left leg, right arm, and eventually…destroyed the Gundam itself, killing Jeturk Heavy Machinery CEO Lauda Neill.”

Secelia continued speaking, not giving anyone a moment to interject.

“With their field commander dead, the Jeturk fleet quickly left the airspace, unwilling to fight any longer. I was the only Benerit Group pilot to fight, and was the only one who sustained any damage.”

Secelia dipped her head and sat down, nervously scanning the rest of the group. Only Maisie had a noticeable change in expression, a slight sadness occupying her usually carefree features. Rouji had his gaze fixed to the floor, avoiding her eyes.

“Well, I do see that it was an eventful day,” Mr. Burion said after a few seconds, a half-hearted attempt at lightening the mood. Nobody said anything further, and he hurried to the next topic at hand. “I believe Mrs. Mercury had something about Quiet Zero to showcase.”

The CEO of Shin Sei Development Corporation stood up, a tablet in her hands now.

“Yes, thank you, President Burion. You may recall that I referred to Quiet Zero as the key to the goals of the new Benerit Group regime. Thanks to the effort of an…old friend, this structure was made possible, and with the assistance of Burion and Grassley data, as well as my two daughters, the mechanisms by which a warless, peaceful society will be achieved are complete.”

Prospera held up the tablet, displaying a page of readouts with a large button in the center.

“This will activate the central structure of Quiet Zero, which has been synchronized directly with the data storm that permeates all of this universe. Using Gundam Aerial, it has successfully accessed Score 8, and using that interface level, can generate a network of data storms and effectively control and neutralize Permet links.”

The Witch of Quiet Zero, a title Secelia only now understood, let the weight of her words sink in. Everyone in the small conference room, with the exception of Mr. Burion, watched in a stunned silence as Prospera tapped the button.

“The world is ready for you, my daughter.”

The walls, floor, and ceiling of the room began to vibrate, as if a horde of angry insects were trapped within. There was a distant click, and the vibrations stopped all at once.

In the next moment, a pulse of something traveled through the room at near-imperceptible speeds. All Secelia saw was a rainbow flash, and then everything mechanical in the room restarted.

“And now, the entire Earth Sphere is enveloped in a data storm. From Quiet Zero, we can control any Permet link within it, and render it inoperable.”

As Prospera spoke, it looked as if a million weights had been removed from her shoulders, a smile of relief taking over. When she spoke, her voice sounded much lighter, the harsh, fervent tone wiped away by the data storm.

“Eri, you can join us now.”

Before anybody could form the words to question Prospera and her impassioned explanation, a small figure, seemingly no older than eight or nine, dressed in an old, white space suit emerged from near the doorway. She had little rabbit ears on top of her helmet and short, messy scarlet-red hair underneath. There were shimmering blue marks on both of her cheeks, and her entire body was somewhat translucent, flecked with small spots of light.

She floated over to Prospera and smiled at everyone before speaking. Her voice was somewhat ethereal, though it still reminded Secelia of a young child.

“Ah…hi. I'm Ericht Samaya, but you can just call me Eri; that's Mom’s nickname for me. I've already worked with some of you, but it's nice to officially meet you all!”

Chapter Text

AD 122, Quiet Zero, 6 hours after the Quiet Zero activation

“Rouji? Is everything ok?”

Secelia's voice barely registered in his head, his thoughts far away.

Rouji Chante laid on top of the bedsheets in a room that had gradually become familiar to him. It was adorned in purples and silvers, with some scattered clothing and wall decorations trying to tie it all together. The owner of the room was to Rouji’s right, a concerned expression on her face.

Truthfully, Rouji didn't know if anything was ok. The day’s events were still fresh and unprocessed in his mind, leaving it a mess of questions and partially reasoned explanations.

He had watched a fleet of people get wiped out in minutes for simply following orders. Hundreds of people who would never come home, all in the name of a “peaceful society”.

It had been encouraged and celebrated by those he thought to be leaders. The ones who had carried it out were simply weapons, used by those who needed to feel a sense of might and power.

Rouji felt like there was very little he knew for certain these days, but one of the few was that he was horrified by that concept. Violence committed in the name of peace was a stomach-churning contradiction, and yet right now he felt his conscience trying to justify it. If he could excuse that slaughter, what was next?

How long until he became desensitized to massacres like today’s?

How long until he chose to kill someone?

How long until he chased the kill, glorified it?

“I… I’m fine, Sece, just… tired.”

Normally, Rouji wouldn’t be able to stomach a blatant lie like that, but after the debriefing, his thoughts about Secelia were as muddled as the ones about the rest of the Benerit Group, and this time for the same reasons.

As he stared at the ceiling, his mind still sorting through the mess, she slid across the bed and draped an arm across his chest. She let her head come to rest on his shoulder, mouth next to his ear.

“You're an awful liar, Rou,” she said quietly. “Didn't you want to talk tonight, too?”

“I… I did, but… I just don't know anymore. Not after…”

He trailed off, failing to find words that wouldn’t sound like an accusation.

“Well, aren't we supposed to figure that stuff out together? You don’t need to do it all yourself.  You're… the person I love, my partner, and if there's something wrong, we should get through it together.”

Rouji heard Secelia's voice hitch a little as she finally managed to define what they were to one another, instead of just how they felt.

The sentence was knife-sharp.

Why now, Rouji despaired as he felt the deep, painful cut of the words.

This was the progress he had wanted for so long, something that would have been a welcome bit of stability. But now, it was so marred by violence and death that it only destabilized his internal conflict further.

“So, what’s bothering you, Rou?” Secelia continued her line of questioning, the pain on Rouji’s face directed at the ceiling. “Did something happen during the fight? Honestly, I can’t really imagine what that was like, facing a whole fleet.”

“It was…terrifying,” Rouji sighed, sinking deeper into the comforter. It didn’t feel all the comfortable, not as the whole world threatened to cave in on him.

“Was it that dangerous? I know Henao said how many there were, but it’s hard to visualize that, y’know?”

“No, it wasn’t…” Rouji trailed off, his mind flashing back through the Valkyrie’s massacre. “Nobody even fired at me, honestly.”

He turned to his side, and Secelia’s head returned to the pillow. For the first time that night, Rouji looked properly at Secelia.

Unfamiliarity was all Rouji saw reflected back at him. He knew he had her undivided attention, but there was something else behind her eyes as well. Though, despite his efforts, Rouji couldn’t discern if it was pity or sympathy or something more complicated. It was like the distance between them had tripled instead of closing like he had wanted. Each second Rouji spent in her eyes felt more foreign than the last, and for the first time in their relationship, he found it painful to look at Secelia.

“Why did any of today need to happen? Doesn’t it all feel so… senseless?” Rouji asked

“Well, it happened because somebody went after us. It was all a defense against a larger enemy, wasn’t it?” Secelia gently took Rouji’s hand with her own, her voice soft. “If someone threatens us, isn’t it justified to respond with force?”

“But then what’s the difference between a justified response and a one-sided massacre? What do you call it when you slaughter soldiers obeying orders? Soldiers who are retreating, who have been routed?”

Rouji spoke in a hushed, pensive tone, each word a solemn reminder of what he had seen.

“Does a justified response mean destroying an entire fleet of underprepared men and women, just because you think they’re in your way?”

“Rou…” Secelia squeezed his hand, though the gesture didn’t have the same comfort it used to. “What… what happened out there?”

“Shaddiq’s Valkyries are monsters, Secelia. They don’t just kill, they revel in it. The Space Assembly League didn’t stand a chance, they barely even knew why they were there. How can they possibly help pave the way for a peaceful society, when they’re just trained, ruthless murderers?”

The emotion had become too much for Rouji’s voice to contain, continually reliving every mobile suit explosion and destroyed battleship with every word. The silver-haired girl just laid there in shocked silence, incredulous as her eyes analyzed Rouji.

“And Aerial… whatever that thing is, she isn’t a child. She’s as monstrous as the rest of them, so cold and indifferent to the carnage in her wake. And she’s Mrs. Mercury’s true objective? Something masquerading as a human soul, living in a mobile suit with the ability and temperament to kill hundreds in a single attack? How is any of this peaceful, Secelia?”

When the question finally registered in her head, she sat up, pulling her hand back.

“Rouji, what are you talking about? Are you saying that-“

“Henao, Maisie, Ireesha, and Aerial, they’re all unrepentant murderers! I watched them aim at people who had turned their backs to flee, at people who attempted to surrender. They killed them all, Secelia.”

“I… there’s… are you sure? Henao certainly can be brutal, but this… that’s a war crime you’re alleging!”

“I saw it happen!” Rouji’s wounded confusion had morphed into indignancy. He had hoped that he was just tired and Secelia would explain everything and then just… listen to him. But instead, the creeping unfamiliarity with the woman he had loved grew, and the rift did the same.

The unstable tempest in Rouji’s mind was in full force, and one thought kept coming to the surface. He turned to look at Secelia again, and the thought outpaced his brain’s reasoning.

“Or is murder okay with you now?”

The temperature in the room plummeted. Silence took hold, and Rouji could feel the tension become palpable. Even with his emotions at their peak and his heart in his throat, Rouji felt somewhere that he had said the wrong thing, crossed some unseen line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

Secelia’s face was twisted with hurt and anger. She got off the bed and stared down at him, caught between crying and yelling.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Rouji. You weren’t there.”

“And that means it was okay to kill a former classmate? Is it because you didn’t like him? I knew this whole presidential run was a mistake, it’s changed everyone for the worse.”

“You weren’t there , Rouji! Have you ever had to make that decision? Did you do anything while you claim Henao was violating wartime treaties? Or did you just grandstand on your morals like you’re doing now? Because right now it sounds like you don’t know anything about the real world.”

“So why did you kill him, Secelia? Is it because you’d do anything for Mr. Burion? Have you ever stopped to question his real motives? Or would you just do absolutely anything to avoid taking even one step backwards? If that’s your idea of the real world, I don’t know if I want to be part of it.”

The room fell silent for several seconds, neither sure of what words to add to the volatile storm hanging in the air. Secelia took a deep breath, her gaze cold and eyes locked onto Rouji’s.

“Then leave, Rouji. Get out”

Secelia’s voice was bitter and icy, staring daggers at the blue-haired pilot. She turned around, trying to be silent and stoic.

“Alright, Secelia.”

Rouji spoke from the doorway of the room, back turned to the woman in the middle of the room, and then walked out.

Maybe I will.

——

Secelia woke up without a sense of the time.

She was still wearing what she had on under her pilot suit, and her bedsheets were disheveled. Her hair was matted and sticking up at random places, while her pillow was wet with tears.

A glance across the room told her that it was after 4 AM. The scenery outside her window still looked about the same, a feature of Quiet Zero she had noticed early on.

As she awoke, she slowly remembered what had happened several hours ago.

They had said terrible things to each other at a fever pitch of emotion and life changes, at a time when they should have been there for one another.

Rouji had needed someone to listen to what troubled him, and she had needed to unpack what she had done in her confrontation with Lauda. But instead they had used one mistake to feed into each other’s anger and insecurities and tried to tear the other apart. She hadn’t wanted to listen to him at the time, but after reflection, she couldn’t shake the thought that maybe he was right.

Secelia rolled over and stood up, a vague need to take the conversational path they had missed driving her. She flattened out her hair a little, but didn’t bother with the rest of her appearance.

She was quickly in front of Rouji’s door, and steeled herself mentally before deciding to just knock on the cold metal. She didn’t want to try and say anything over the room’s speaker, afraid that the mechanical medium would steal the courage from her voice.

As she reached forward to rap her knuckle on the middle of the door, it slid open before she could touch it.

With a cautious step, Secelia entered to find a plain, unremarkable room. The bed was made, the shelves were barren, the desk was clean, and the closet was closed.

And there was no Rouji inside.

As she looked around, she became aware of a quiet voice that told her it seemed too empty for any normal explanation. Secelia quieted it as she tried to convince herself that she hadn’t seen it enough to tell the difference.

The voice crept back into her mind as she made her way to the other likely place he would go to. The hallways of Quiet Zero felt creepier than usual this early in the morning. The Permet mechanisms were quiet, a period of reduced activity to lessen the stress on Aerial and the internal devices, which meant every footstep echoed louder than usual.

She remembered the last words she had said before Rouji left, and her own voice echoed in her head with each step towards the Burion hangar.

When she arrived outside, the fear that he had listened to her was in full control. Secelia checked the digital log for mobile suit sorties, finding only the Aplomado, Kiskadee, and Demi Barding deployments from nearly 12 hours ago at this point.

Deep down, she knew it didn’t mean anything. Everybody else was asleep, which meant there were no hangar staff there to log any new departures.

Once again, Secelia steeled her resolve before entering, not sure what exactly to expect.

She slowly entered and scanned the hangar. The Kiskadee, the Aplomado, and the three Demi Bardings were in their usual spots on the right side of the large room.

There were scattered carts of tools and repair parts in the middle. As she looked towards the left side of the hangar, she felt her worst fears all become tangible.

The Shrike stood alone. The dock for its companion, the Gyrfalcon, was empty.

Love is a distant aroma at best

A withering smile that's stuck deep in your vest

The night air it wraps its fingers around

Your body it shakes from the now distant sound

Oh, the sound of her voice

A sweet symphony

Played over and over

Until you are free

AD 123, Asticassia School of Technology, 10 months after Quiet Zero’s activation

Miorine Rembran stepped out of the elevator to the Earth House hangar. She sighed, a side effect of the long trip, and glanced around before venturing further inside.

It hadn't changed in the months she'd been away, one of the few things she found had stayed the same in her absence. It still had a strong mechanical smell, for lack of a better way to put it, and it was filled with the sound of metal striking metal. Just like the last time, there was a glaring lack of the Gundam Aerial.

Unlike last time, there was something new in its dock.

Miorine stared in awe as her eyes tracked from ceiling to floor. There was a massive mobile suit, adorned in red and black armor, in the central hangar dock. It stood upon heavily armored legs, thickened by booster units attached below each thigh. Its chest reminded her of a Darilbalde, with a shell unit embedded in the middle and a distinctive cockpit jutting out below it. The head, she noticed, was that of the Gundam Pharact, but with two extra antenna placed in the middle of the scalp. Miorine’s view of the rest of the mobile suit’s upper body was obscured by two Darilbalde defense drones, though  she could just barely see the Gundam Pharact’s drone binders peeking above the mobile suit’s back.

Its armaments were certainly befitting its size, she thought as she continued taking in the colossal machine. An enormous lance with two spear-like attachments fed through slots at the base of the weapon was held in the left hand, and a thick red and black shield was attached to the right arm. The weapon storage rack beside it held a beam rifle with a barrel that rivaled the Pharact’s Arquebus.

Despite having seen the design documents, Miorine was awestruck. Her mouth hung agape as she stared up at the new mobile suit. It was truly enormous, towering over the Demi Trainer next to it and the Lfrith Thorn across from it, while also being a head taller than the Lfrith Ur. She hadn’t seen it in person bef-

Wait, Lfrith Ur and Lfrith Thorn? In the Earth House hangar?

Miorine whipped her head around, and sure enough, the two Dawn of Fold Gundams were sitting in the normally-empty Earth House mobile suit docks. Even more startling was the sight of Norea Du Noc standing on the scaffolding in front of the Thorn, yelling at Elan Ceres.

But most of all, it was the sight of Nika Nanaura and Sabina Fardin that shocked Miorine the most. They were practically on top of each other in front of the Ur, working on something on the turquoise Gundam’s chest.

“Yea, there’s been a lot happening, Ms. President.”

Chuchu’s voice sneered from just over Miorine’s shoulder, causing the white-haired woman to jump. There was a tinge of sarcasm in the last part of the sentence, and when Miorine turned around, Chuchu had an expression of barely-suppressed disgust on her face. Though, as she followed the pink-haired woman’s gaze. it seemed to be more directed at the two women in front of the Lfrith Ur than anyone else.

Hearing the sudden commotion, a tall woman dressed in an oil-stained t-shirt and ripped jeans glanced up from the red and black mobile suit. Her gaze gradually moved over to its source.

“Ms. Miorine!”

In the amount of time it took to turn towards the voice, Miorine found herself wrapped in a very tight hug. After several seconds of having the air slowly squeezed from her lungs, she finally forced out a response.

“Suletta…”

With an “Eek!”, the red-haired woman released Miorine and stepped back, a blush barely visible on her light brown cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Miorine! You’re… still upset, aren’t you? About Aerial… and losing… and-”

“No, I’m… Suletta… are you busy?”

It was Miorine’s turn to feel awkward and embarrassed, absentmindedly tenting and untenting her fingers as she searched for the words.

“I, well, I wanted to talk about the last few months. There’s… a lot I think I have to answer for.”

As Suletta mulled over Miorine’s words, a translucent figure floated away from the mobile suit dock and slowly flew over to the Mercurian pilot.

They were dressed in an Asticassia uniform, hands covered by white gloves and a feather earring dangling from each ear. Their eyes shone a striking green, while their hair was a duller shade of the same color. It had been a while, but Miorine recognized them regardless.

“Elan Ceres?!”

She craned her neck back towards the Lfrith Thorn’s dock, and somehow there was also an Elan Ceres up there, still teasing Norea as she tried to do maintenance.

Miorine smiled reflexively at the sight before she turned back around to look at the other, ghostlier Elan. They were certainly somewhat transparent, flecks of light scattered across their body, and they were most definitely floating above the ground, somehow, but it was still the face of Elan Ceres.

“Sule… how… who?”

Suletta looked over her shoulder at the semitransparent Elan. After a few heartbeats, she covered her mouth with her hand as she suppressed a giggle.

“This is Elan. The first Elan you knew, actually. It’s… really complicated, but they were still inside the Pharact’s shell units and now that the data storm is everywhere, they can manifest as… well…”

She gestured to the full body form of Elan with her hands.

“And, actually, you can just call them Four, it’s the name they told me they like best. That one up there,” Suletta pointed to the other Elan, who was dodging soft projectiles thrown by Norea. “He prefers to be called Five.”

“You can also just call him asshole!”

Norea shouted from across the hangar, in hot pursuit of her friend/partner/mortal enemy. Maybe he was all three, Miorine thought with a small smile.

“I’m an asshole!~”

Five sang the sentence in a loud, mocking voice as he soared backwards through the air, feet kicked up and arms crossed behind his head like he was lounging in a hammock.

“I can guide Ms. Panlunch, Suletta. Please go with Ms. Rembran.”

Four’s voice, soft with an ethereal quality layered behind it, came from behind Suletta.

With a warm smile and a nod, Suletta grabbed Miorine's hand.

“Thank you, Four, I really appreciate it.”

The disheveled redhead led her partner towards the main Earth House building and into an office with a view of the hangar.

Every surface in the decently-sized room was coated with dust, a storm of it kicking up as the two walked inside. Suletta sat down on the couch and beckoned Miorine over. The white-haired woman gave her a stilted smile and chose to stand next to the large wooden desk instead. After a few seconds, Suletta broke the awkward silence.

“Sorry that it's so dusty. Ms. Chuchu didn't want to give you an office at first, and I guess she didn't bother having anyone clean it while you were away.”

Suletta laughed nervously, not quite looking the GUND-Arm CEO in the eye.

“It's okay, Suletta… she probably didn't expect me to come back anyways,” Miorine sighed, looking down at her fingernails. “I don't blame her for it, either.”

Suletta said nothing, still nervously looking over Miorine's shoulder and out the office window.

“I really screwed a lot up, didn't I? I thought I was invincible, that my father’s legacy would carry me through everything,” Miorine spoke slowly and deliberately, gradually turning to follow her partner’s gaze. “I hurt everyone here, because I was just too damn stubborn.”

She gazed out the window at the hangar. Norea and Five had reached some sort of ceasefire, now sitting next to one another on some scaffolding. Five’s head was resting on Norea’s shoulder, and their hands were locked together.

Sabina and Nika were much the same, with Nika on the taller woman’s lap. Her head rested against Sabina’s chest while the purple-haired woman used an arm to cradle her close.

Only Chuchu was still at work, executing every movement of her tools in a particularly violent fashion. Four floated above her head, supervising in what appeared to be an non-intrusive manner.

“So much for running a company, either. I’ve been a pretty lousy CEO as of late. Chuchu or Lilique should probably have the title instead of me.”

Miorine’s tone became increasingly harsh as she spoke, and eventually she tore her eyes from the window. She turned and inspected the faint Permet scars on her partner’s face, trying to find the validation for her self-degradation.

“Well? You’ve been here the whole time I was away. Do you think anything I’ve said is inaccurate, Suletta?”

With a start, the Mercurian stood up, her normally calm blue eyes flashing with a surprising intensity.

“Yes, of course I do, Ms. Miorine! We wouldn’t even be here without you! You needed to deal with your own things, and we were here to support you!”

Suletta’s voice was growing louder, a previously-unseen confidence surging through her.

“The presidential race was your thing to handle, and the only thing I, or any of us, can be mad at you for is not leaning on us when you needed help!”

Before Miorine could respond, Suletta’s expression fell, her round eyebrows scrunching up into a frown.

“And… I can’t be mad, because I’m the one who broke my promise. No matter what, I lost, and that’s something I can’t excuse. But people like Nika and Chuchu have been doing their best for GUND-Arm, and they’ve been understanding of your circumstances.”

“Suletta…”

Miorine crossed the short distance between them and wrapped her partner in a hug. The tall red-haired woman, emotions frayed after the outburst, sobbed into the shoulder of Miorine’s suit.

“This has been on your mind for months now, hasn’t it?”

Suletta’s only answer was a gentle nod against Miorine’s shoulder.

“I could never be mad at you for fighting on my behalf, you dork. And the election was decided long before that, so you didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, it’s those stupid damned rules my father put in place.”

Miorine cradled Suletta’s upper body, the woman’s sobs slowly subsiding.

“I wanted to find some way to talk to you, but between the datastorm and everything I had to do, I couldn’t find a way. I thought about you every day, though.”

“I-it’s ok…” Suletta’s voice was muffled by the fabric of Miorine’s suit and still interrupted by the laboring, post-cry shudders.

“It’s not, but I will make it up to you, ok? I hope I’ve started to, at least a little.”

With a gentle hand, Miorine nudged Suletta towards the window, the docked red and black Gundam outside keeping a vigil over the hangar.

“The Rembrans have been removed from the Benerit Group, along with companies like Peil. The Space Assembly League has also been dissolved, following a disastrous assault on Quiet Zero several months ago. And…” Miorine took a sharp breath, pulling her eyes from the window and pinning her gaze to the floor.

“I’ve… also had to gut GUND-Arm Inc.”

She felt Suletta stiffen in shock next to her.

“Because of the duel stakes, I had to transfer the company to Shaddiq. It still exists, but, well, I moved everything over to the Rembran Corporation, including everyone’s employment. We… have to start over. I’m sorry, Suletta.”

“Ms. Miorine… This is my fault, again…”

The tears began to well up in Suletta’s eyes once more, and Miorine wrapped her groom in her arms immediately.

“No, no, Suletta… everything will be ok,” she whispered in the Mercurian’s ear. “While I was away, I met with a lot of well-connected people, as well as the current Dawn of Fold leadership. Through the latter, I learned that Guel Jeturk is still alive, and from the former, that Lauda Neill is dead.”

This caused Suletta to break the embrace and step back from the window. She looked at her partner with unfiltered surprise.

“Lauda… Lauda’s dead? A-and Mr. Guel is alive? Really? How?”

“Nobody knows what exactly happened to Lauda, but given that the information came from former Cathedra captain Rajan Zahi, it can’t be anything good,” Miorine spat the name out, a shudder of disgust crawling across her skin. “And yes, Guel is alive. He’s become a very trusted member of the Dawn of Fold, along with one Felsi Rollo. They were instrumental in that, actually.”

Miorine motioned towards the mobile suit while Suletta smiled with relief at the news about Guel. After a couple seconds, she cleared her throat and continued.

“Anyways, he and I have started spearheading a new effort to form a watchdog organization of sorts, along with the people cut off by the Group. This trimmed, focused version of the Benerit Group is worrying, and having Shaddiq and four of his specially-trained pilots at their disposal makes them dangerous. We’ve named this new alliance Hraesvelgr, at least for now. The mobile suit you see out there is the first fruit of the partnership, a combination of Jeturk, Peil, and Rembran knowledge.”

“Herac… Hras… what was it again?” Suletta asked, cocking her head as she tried to work through the pronunciation. Miorine couldn’t help but giggle, her groom’s remarkably dog-like mannerisms lightening the mood.

“Her-ace-vel-guhr,” the CEO sounded out, emphasizing the syllables in “ace” and “guhr”. “It’s the name of an eagle-shaped mythological being from-”

“Oh! Hraesvelgr, from Norse mythology, right? They said he was the birthplace of the world’s wind!” Suletta interrupted Miorine, a childlike excitement drawn across all her features. The silver-haired CEO stared at the Mercurian, shocked into silence.

Suletta blushed and rubbed the back of her head as she noticed the surprise on Miorine’s face.

“Ah… sorry, Eri had a bunch of files on Earthian legends, and, well…”

“And here I thought Asticassia had finally been of some use,” Miorine mused.

“You are correct. To be honest, it was mostly General Hija’s idea, but his reasoning was good. Anyways…” Miorine glanced back over at the mobile suit, Suletta following her eyes. “We’ve got it developed, and are working on more mobile suits, but the one thing we’re missing for this Gundam is a name.”

Suletta’s eyes lit up as she saw the opportunity.

“Well, if it’s the very first mobile suit, I think it’s fitting that it has a name in line with the Hraesvelgr myth, so-”

Suletta let out a small “eep!” and covered her mouth.

“Sorry, Ms. Miorine! I just… had an idea, and I wanted to… I didn’t mean to overstep, I mean you haven’t even said who the pilot is, and-”

Miorine laughed again, Suletta’s endearing awkwardness having managed to completely chase away the heavy mood that had filled the small office. With a smile, she wrapped her arms around the embarrassed redhead and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Go on, Suletta. I think you should have some input too.”

“Ah… well, since you chose Hraesvelgr, I was thinking, the jotunn in Norse mythology had a cloak that let them take the form of an eagle,” Suletta explained as she visibly searched her memory for the information. Miorine noticed that she had gotten the pronunciation of Hraesvelgr down at this point.

“It was called an arnarhamr, so I think that should be the name of Hraesvelgr’s first mobile suit!”

Suletta beamed at her bride, happy to have made her conclusion. Miorine matched her smile and stepped away from the window.

“Then the first Hraesvelgr mobile suit will be the Gundam Arnarhamr,” the Rembran CEO declared as she took a seat on the large, empty desk.

“As chosen by its pilot.”

The Mercurian pilot didn’t immediately respond, nor did she follow Miorine with her feet or her eyes. However, Miorine noticed a slight tremble in her shoulders.

“Ms. Miorine… I’ve thought about that mobile suit since it arrived,” Suletta whispered, barely audible from Miorine’s position in the room. “Four kept saying that it’s all state-of-the-art, and that they had seen all the work in repairing it.”

The red-haired pilot turned to the window again and she scanned the full height of the Gundam in the hangar. Suletta’s emotions were uncharacteristically withdrawn, and Miorine nearly stood up to comfort her.

“I… missed you a lot after the duel with Shaddiq. After losing Aerial, and then losing Four again… I didn’t want to lose you too,” Suletta sounded like she was at a confessional, tone solemn and heavy. “I… hadn’t failed like that before. For a long time, I didn’t know if I could face you after that.”

Suletta finally moved from the window. She walked slowly and careful, eventually coming to a stop in front of Miorine. She kept her eyes to the ground, however.

Miorine had barely moved since her groom had started talking, scared of a verbal misstep or even of just breaking the Mercurian’s train of thought.

“I didn’t even want to pilot a mobile suit anymore. But a few months ago, Nika helped me remember why I had been fighting in the first place. I… wasn’t sure if you’d even want me to, after that loss, but still I vowed to continue, no matter what.”

Suletta took a deep breath after the last word, and raised her head. Whatever emotion that had overwhelmed her before was gone, replaced with a calm yet fiery confidence. Miorine felt palpable intensity and focus through the pilot’s gaze, like she was looking at a freshly-sharpened sword.

“Ms. Miorine, thank you for trusting me with this Gundam,” Suletta stated, doing her best to sound official. She dropped to both knees and bowed her head before the seated Miorine. “From this day forward, if you’ll have me, I will be your spear and your shield in order to protect you from all harm. Until my last breath, I pledge to serve as your knight.”

With a small smile, Miorine nodded, though only she saw it.

Oh Suletta, you can be such a dork sometimes , she thought. But you’re my cute dork of a groom.

Without a word, the white-haired woman bent down and placed a soft kiss on either side of Suletta’s face. It was a crude approximation of a knighting ceremony, but if Suletta didn’t mind, neither did she.

“Arise, my knight,” Miorine proclaimed, trying to sound as official as Suletta had.

When the redhead had gotten back to her feet, she was immediately pulled onto the top of the desk, and by extension, on top of the Rembran CEO.

“My knight, and also my husband,” Miorine grinned, making her intentions known without words. “It’s not ‘Ms. Miorine’ anymore.”

She pulled the very confused Mercurian closer and kissed her deeply, the hot embarrassment in her partner’s cheeks igniting a flame inside both of them.

After several long seconds, they broke apart and Miorine explained further, this time in a lower, sultry tone.

“My birthday was months ago, and Shaddiq never claimed the prize of his status. That means the previous Holder can. Making you my groom, Mrs. Mercury...”

The white-haired woman kept the still tomato-red Suletta against her body as she slowly unbuttoned her suit.

“And gods, I’ve missed you, Suletta Mercury,” Miorine whispered huskily, eyes full of longing.

“So please, my love, claim your prize.”

The music it fades

The violin slows

The darkness it rises

As the sun goes

Can you feel the new day rising

Climbing up the east horizon?

They can't hold us

Now we'll fight through

Each and everyone will start new

AD 123, Dawn of Fold compound, 9 months after Quiet Zero’s activation

Guel slowly climbed the stairs, limbs weighed down by fatigue.

If he was to be honest with himself, he was impressed. He’d never thought something could be as draining as piloting a mobile suit, but 12 hours of meetings had certainly taken a similar toll.

It was some ungodly hour of the morning, someone finally having the sense to let everyone rest and continue talking later, and the lights were off in the Dawn of Fold compound. Fortunately, the trek had become muscle memory, and before he knew it, Guel was pulling open the door to his shared quarters.

The overhead lights were off, but there was a small desk lamp on. The yellow-orange light from the faded bulb cast a shadow with slightly spiky hair against the far wall.

“You’re trudging again. I could hear each step as you walked upstairs, even through my headphones.”

Guel couldn’t really form a response, and so a half-grunt and half-sigh served in its place. He took a few steps into the small, cluttered room and slumped into a soft chair next to the window.

“That bad, huh? They’re working you to the bone for this.”

Felsi Rollo pushed the chair away from the desk and stood up, crossing the room as she spoke. She wore a plain, one-tone shirt and matching pants, both made of light, breathable material. Since being appointed Dawn of Fold pilots, both she and Guel had changed up their wardrobes, switching to thinner fabric that was more comfortable underneath the piloting uniforms.

The other benefits of the clothing change are certainly welcome though , Guel thought as he looked up at Felsi, one of the only thoughts breaking through the day’s fatigue.

“They’re giving me a bigger role in this than I initially thought,” Guel explained as Felsi sat on the arm of his chair. “Turns out that even after casting the name aside, being the sole remaining member of a family like that has pull. And, well, Miorine seems to want me as some kind of liaison.”

“How are Naji and Olcott feeling, working with a Rembran?” Felsi asked, resting her legs on the other armrest.

“Surprisingly well. She’s not in the strongest position, so she’s promising the Dawn of Fold a lot,” Guel sighed, wrapping an arm around the amber-eyed woman’s waist. “I think that’s part of why Naji’s keeping me in there. She’s a lot more trusting when she knows I’m involved.”

“I told you, you’re getting an aura these days, Guel,” Felsi smiled warmly and let her arm rest on top of his. “It’s hard to describe, but you’re… like a rock.”

She giggled a little.

“And not just physically. You’re dependable and tough.”

She slid off the armrest and came to rest on his lap, one arm draped across Guel’s chest.

“You make people feel safe.”

The tall man blushed deeply, Felsi’s body pressed against his own and her voice very close to his ear. She had a very special knack for washing the fatigue of the longest day away.

Funny , he thought. You’re the same way.

He didn’t dare give voice to that thought, though. Felsi loved being praised most times, but when she felt he needed to relax after a stressful day, she would fight Guel on it. He’d been scolded for “sacrificing his needs for others” many, many times.

So instead Guel decided to focus on the soothing closeness of Felsi, and how unbelievable it was that he was even able to hold her like this.

It had felt like a gift from the heavens when she wound up back in his life. He had finally been able to tell her the feelings he had ignored in pursuit of a legacy and realized quickly that Felsi had been waiting a long time to hear those things from him.

Guel, like with most things since coming to Earth, had leaned fully into her love as their responsibilities within the Dawn of Fold intertwined. They were each other’s rocks, propping the other up when things got stressful, and most nights ended with their arms wrapped around the other protectively.

He felt a soft breath on his ear and realized he had been staring off into space with Felsi cradled in his arms.

“W-well, isn’t that what a pilot is supposed to do? It’s not like I’m doing anything special, just what’s asked of me,” Guel turned his head away, embarrassed by both Felsi’s praise and being lost in his own thoughts.

“Well, you’re trying to build something that could change the world, don’t you think that deserves some recognition?”

Felsi laid her head against the middle of Guel’s chest, free hand absentmindedly tapping on his thigh. He turned his head back, a more serious expression on his face.

“I’m not building anything, I’m just there to do what Naji and Olcott need done. Just another subordinate, nothing more. This is Miorine’s organization and idea.”

“I know, Guel,” she sighed, clearly used to this conversation. “But don’t let yourself stand in the way of recognition, ok? It’s not always bad to be appreciated for what you do.”

Felsi craned her neck upwards and met Guel’s lips, the gesture catching him off-guard. His lips were dry from a day spent in a stuffy room, but she seemed to not mind and let him slowly acclimate to her. Only when they were short on breath did they separate.

“You need to drink more water, dummy.”

“Ah… there’s none in that room and when Miorine gets talking, there’s no real time to get up,” he laughed, letting an arm rest across Felsi’s back.

“So that means the progress is good, right? Is there any news on mobile suits?” Felsi probed excitedly as she looked up at Guel. Her cheeks were still flushed and her breathing a little ragged, but her near-childlike joy at the thought of new mobile suits overflowed from every part of her.

“Between whatever data we could salvage from our server access, the Peil development team, and Miorine’s connections, we’ve gotten a prototype designed as the flagship of the organization,” Guel stated matter-of-factly, recalling the last several days of front to back meetings. “Obviously the Space Assembly League is bolstering a lot of the forces to try and keep Benerit in check, but we decided that we wanted a line of mobile suits that were designed by all of us.”

Felsi’s eyes lit up, and Guel’s heart ached a little, well aware that he was going to dash some of her hopes.

“I’m sorry Felsi, Miorine already chose to have Suletta pilot this first design,” Guel replied, then softened his tone as her expression dropped and pulled her closer. “It’s a Gundam, and, selfishly, I don’t want to have you in one of those. I’ll make sure you get something, ok?”

As quickly as it left, her excitement returned, and like a puppy in an open field, Felsi jumped to her feet and grabbed Guel’s arm, pulling him from the chair.

“Have I ever told you that you know just what to say?”

“Sometimes, usually whe-woah!”

With the strength that only a pilot could muster, Felsi pulled her partner towards the bed just a couple of feet away. The momentum sent him right up against it, and he let his back drop onto the mattress while his legs stayed planted on the floor.

Felsi was in front of him by the time he had landed, staring at his body stretched across the surface of the bed with a devious expression.

“Well, I think you deserve to be rewarded for all your good deeds, then.”

Guel let himself relax a little as Felsi began disrobing, but a little voice in the back of his head told him that tomorrow’s meetings might feel even longer than usual.

Well, we shall not stumble

No, we shall not fall

We shall not crumble

No, we shall stand tall

With death it will come

As sure as a night

But we will not run

No, we live but to fight

With blood on our hands

And dirt on our knees

We tear at the ones

Who brought the disease

AD 125, an unnamed remote front outside of Jupiter, 1 year after Hraesvelgr’s formation

Two pairs of dress shoes tapped harshly on the overly-polished hallway tiling in the remote front. The plain walls seemed to amplify the echoes throughout, filling the small space with the repetitive noise.

Shaddiq Zenelli led the way, dressed in a white suit accented with black and gold. It was a color that had grown on him immensely, a symbol of an old victory, as well as his strength. His blonde hair was long and untamed, though he kept it out of his face now.

Henao Jazz followed behind him, her heather-blue hair tied up in a ponytail and still neatly swept across her left eye. She was dressed in a similar suit, though hers was solid black, and she wore a white dress shirt underneath. At her waist was a gunmetal gray firearm with a textured grip the same color as her suit.

Shaddiq couldn't remember what specific model it was, but she had once told him that it was designed after an old Earthian pistol made by a company whose name he only remembered as “Sauer”.

It wasn't visible on her person, but Shaddiq also knew that she had a long, thin knife strapped to her right thigh.

He'd felt it against his throat a few times, usually after making the mistake of sneaking up on her. Teasing a trained special ops soldier had its risks. But he did so cherish the rewards.

Shaddiq chuckled softly at the thought, prompting a response from Henao.

“President Zenelli…”

He suddenly felt a very sharp glare fixed on the back of his head.

“Just thinking about some… past encounters, Henao,” Shaddiq said, a note of playful teasing in his voice. This earned him a not-so-gentle jab to the side.

“I’d appreciate if you would stay focused on what we’re here to do, President Zenelli,” Henao growled with a cold edge to her voice.

“Right, right, of course,” he said, shrugging as he walked. “It is my ‘father’ we’re here for, you know? You could humor me just a little.”

“Not when you’re being crass. Or do you need a reminder of the last time you did something similar?”

A pained smile flashed across Shaddiq’s features, Henao’s coolly-delivered barb sending a wave of embarrassment through him. The usually quiet, stoic Valkyrie wasn't always the most physically intimate, but when she was, Shaddiq’s body definitely felt the consequences afterwards.

They certainly weren't enough to discourage him from letting her take control, though.

“Oh, I’m the crass one, huh? Well, at least Maisie and Ireesha haven’t rubbed off on you. Their talks have gotten particularly raunchy when they think nobody’s listening, don’t you think?” Shaddiq laughed again, slowing his stride a little as they approached a door.

“Shaddiq…”

Henao’s tone changed and she stopped abruptly, just a few steps behind the Grassley CEO.

When Shaddiq turned around, he saw an unusually troubled expression on the face of his partner and advisor. Even with how close he had gotten with Henao, the idea of being unreadable and composed was so ingrained that he rarely saw her look happy, let alone upset.

He approached her and gently reached out an arm. When she didn’t flinch or withdraw, he placed it on her shoulder gently.

“Henao? Is there somethin-”

“I don’t understand you,” she blurted out, her voice flat even as her eyes betrayed the building emotion inside. “You’re about to carry out the death warrant you signed on the man who raised you, and you’re joking about sex? How…”

“Well, it’s just… what I have to do. Sarius can’t be allowed to stick around, not with what he knows, and right now is our best chance of getting rid of him quietly.”

Shaddiq watched as the tide of emotion contained within Henao only got stronger. He felt unsettled and lost, and knew he needed to choose his words exceedingly carefully. For her to let her carefully-maintained facade crack this much, and on official business at that, something must be tearing her apart.

He’d never thought much about her relationship to Sarius Zenelli. The former Grassley CEO, and Shaddiq’s adopted father, was very much a bastard who made a career out of exploiting both war and poor children. Even so, Shaddiq had failed to consider that, to some of those children “rescued” from Earthian slums and brought to Grassley’s “child development program”, Sarius was the closest thing to a father in their lives. He had hoisted them out of a life of stealing food and sleeping in the streets and into one where they knew they would have three meals and where they would be sleeping.

It would make sense, then, for Henao to be more emotionally involved in this task than he had considered. For as long as he’d known her, Shaddiq still needed to remind himself sometimes that a lack of outward emotion does not mean an absence of all emotion.

His starkest reminder of this came on the nights where his sleep was interrupted and he awoke to find his partner wracked with nightmares, curled into a shuddering ball and whispering about forgiveness and absolution.

Shaddiq took a cautious step forward that, again, elicited no response from the visibly on-edge woman.

“I'm sorry, Henao. I was trying to lighten the mood, and settle my own nerves. I didn't mean to seem so indifferent.”

The blonde man spoke gently, not for her sake, but for his. Standing before the door, knowing what he needed to do inside, unsettled him immensely. If he were a younger man, a weaker man, he might've acknowledged that the prospect of a cold-blooded political murder scared him. But he was neither, and so he banished the thought.

Shaddiq wrapped his arms around Henao, finding himself in one of the uncommon situations where the aloof woman welcomed the touch of another. Considering all the emotions in the hallway, it was quite the utilitarian hug, but he felt Henao relax as much as she would allow herself to in his embrace.

“If you'd like, you can go back to the hangar. I'll handle this, and we'll go back to Grassley’s front instead of Quiet Zero, okay?” Shaddiq’s voice was kind and sympathetic, the smaller woman still wrapped in a hug.

“Alright, I'll do that,” she replied, muffled by Shaddiq's chest but having audibly regained a tight hold on her emotions.

Henao stepped away from the hug first, looking Shaddiq in the eyes as she untangled herself from him. Her hand went to her waist and she removed the pistol from its holster, presenting it to the Grassley CEO.

“It's cleaner and faster than the blade in your pocket,” the Valkyrie stated, not breaking eye contact.

Shaddiq chuckled and took the firearm, feeling the heft as he wrapped three of his fingers around the grip.

“Nothing gets past you, huh? I'll take good care of it, thank you.”

Henao nodded and studied her partner for a few long seconds, a wholly unreadable expression on her face, before she turned on a heel and walked back the way the two of them had come from.

Once she had turned the corner, Shaddiq took a deep breath and faced the door they had stopped in front of. He shifted the pistol in his hand once again, feeling the cold metal of the slide against his flesh as he ran a finger along it.

The firearm was in pristine condition, as expected of something Henao owned. It looked like it was brand new, no rust or dings to the body. On the part of the grip where his thumb sat, however, Shaddiq noticed one imperfection.

A meticulously scratched symbol depicting a pair of wings crossed by a spear. It was accompanied by nine rune-like symbols he didn't recognize scribed down the length of the grip.

With a deep breath, he shifted the firearm back to a resting position and laid his finger across the safety. Then, Shaddiq opened the door to Sarius Zenelli’s prison cell and stepped inside, the pistol pressed against his thigh.

The old man in the dimly-lit, windowless room turned his head weakly as the door slid open. He visibly flinched, the hydraulics deafening after so much silence.

The older Zenelli was gaunt, bones subtly visible under his thin clothing. His overall skinniness was accentuated as he slumped in the sparsely-padded chair, the only piece of furniture in the room.

“Shaddi-,” he started to say, but cut himself off. “No… Jeru. If you still recognize that name,” Sarius croaked weakly.

“I do,” Shaddiq responded curtly. He had tried to prepare for Sarius to call him by his old Earthian name again, but the sting couldn’t be mitigated. “I do apologize for the conditions here, father. It’s just with such a remo-“

“Don’t call me that, you vile street rat!” Sarius roared, the effort shaking his frail body. He sat up suddenly, a boney finger extended towards the blonde. “You are not a son of mine, you are an usurper and a bastard.”

The accusations slung at Shaddiq felt like stones. He bore their weight as they struck his chest, feeling the truth behind each one.

“If I were as you say, who would have taught me such things?”

Shaddiq kept the emotion out of his voice as he posed the question to Sarius, the pistol feeling heavier in his hand.

“Not me,” the former CEO spat. “You disgusting Earthian savages have always been traitorous. Perhaps it’s just in your na-“

A gunshot filled the air, quickly covered by a pained scream.

“I always did hate that about you, father,” Shaddiq lamented as he looked down at the old man clutching his shoulder. “So narrow-minded and cruel.”

He ran a finger down the length of the barrel, the metal still hot from the discharge.

“Spacians can be just as savage and traitorous, you know? You were part of the Vanadis Incident, were you not?”

“You… that was…” Sarius sputtered through gritted teeth as the pain spiked in his nerves.

“I don’t need to hear your excuses for that. It’s ancient history, after all. Though, some still harbor a grudge from it,” the blonde leveled the pistol at the injured man once more.

“P… Prospera Mercury… she sent you to do this, didn’t she? That abhorrent witch…”

“No, no,” he rolled his neck, voice chilled and mocking. “If there’s one thing I learned from you, it’s to never give up control. Prospera, Burion, and I may be business partners, but I conduct my own business.”

Shaddiq gave Sarius a poisonous smile, watching as the man who raised him glared daggers in return.

“To put it simply, I’m doing this for the future of the Earth,” he continued when Sarius made no movement to respond. “Things are stagnating now that the Rembran family is taking control back, and even Quiet Zero is starting to be bypassed. And if, somehow, you’re found and rescued, almost three years after disappearing, well that could be disastrous for the Benerit Group.”

“So you’d kill me to cover yourself and start a war?” Sarius coughed, sending a small spray of blood to the floor. “You’ve truly become a self-centered monster.”

“Thank you, father. I learned from the best, after all,” Shaddiq hissed, a cruel, gritted smile still on his face.

He took another step towards Sarius, the pistol still aimed at him.

“It’s just some bad fortune on your part. I owe a lot to you, actually. Henao, Maisie, and Ireesha are excellent soldiers, and Grassley is incredibly well-off. We’ve got the military strength, but you know how bureaucracy can be,” Shaddiq laughed a little, though his arm stayed steady. “We just need that justification, for PR purposes.”

“I would say no hard feelings, and that it’s nothing personal.”

Shaddiq towered over the wounded man, features warped by a look of cold cruelty and the dim light behind his head. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, a seething hatred permeating every syllable.

“But that would be a lie. May Hell have mercy on you, because you deserve none from this world.”

Sarius Zenelli, his eyes full of violent anger, stared back at the man he had saved from poverty and tried to groom as a successor. The man he had tried to give an actual life to. And as he looked down the cold, dark barrel of the pistol, pain throbbing in his shoulder, the old, wounded tyrant snarled at Jeru Ogul.

“You don’t really believe killing me will guarantee you anything, do you, Jeru?”

Another gunshot rang through the small room and Sarius Zenelli, one of the era’s most powerful men, fell back into the chair as blood drained down his face. The history books will call him great, his legacy of altruism cut short by a spiteful act of vengeance.

A legacy secured by a son who despised it.

The pistol fired again. And again. And again. Shaddiq fired and fired and fired until the magazine was spent, the final shot locking the slide back. Even still, he squeezed the trigger several more times, as though his hatred alone could give him more bullets. 

“It will, father… it will…”

Shaddiq drew a deep, shuddering breath, the phrase repeating in his mind as he released the slide and tapped the safety on Henao’s pistol. He dropped the magazine to the floor with a clatter and slid the pistol itself into his pocket. From his suit pocket, he pulled out a small clear bag, emptied its contents onto a flat surface and carefully moved around the room.

From a locker in the corner, he pulled out a pair of nondescript casual shoes and replaced his dress shoes with them. He kicked the pistol magazine towards Sarius’ body, sliding it through a pool of blood in the process. Then, Shaddiq stood in the blood and slid his hand inside the plastic bag.

The blonde grabbed what had previously been in the bag and examined it.

A bracelet, made of some soft Earthian-produced material. It was colored green and red, with a little knot on the underside to fit around one’s wrist. Shaddiq had found it on the couch in the room where he had detained Norea du Noc after the Rumble Ring. Before that, he remembered seeing it on the wrist of Sophie Pulone when he had visited the Dawn of Fold.

Now, it was going to help him.

Being careful to avoid direct contact with the bracelet, Shaddiq dragged it across Sarius’ dominant hand, letting the knotted part catch against one of his untrimmed fingernails. Once it had, he pulled it apart and tucked part of it under Sarius’ fingers.

With the scene now set, Shaddiq crumpled the bag up, shoved it in his pockets, and exited the small room.

Only then did he let his emotions crack through. He had abandoned the old version of himself in there, another corpse left to decay within. But now, he was raw, exposed flesh with no shell to protect it. The walk back to the hangar felt excruciatingly long, as Shaddiq stained the empty hallways with blood and tears.

When he finally stepped into the transport ship and Henao’s embrace, Shaddiq had buried that corpse and rebuilt everything around his raw, fragile core again.

It was time to get to work.

The music it fades

The violin slows

The darkness it rises

As the sun goes

AD 122, Asticassia School of Technology, 1 month after Quiet Zero’s activation

Sabina Fardin was roused from a shallow sleep by the sound of voices from down the hall.

The first voice was loud, annoyance laced in the question. Even as she blinked away sleep, Sabina recognized it as Chuatury Panlunch’s, the person who had decided to keep her in this room.

“Are you visiting her again?”

The second was softer, a kindness that Sabina knew belonged to Nika Nanaura, her one regular visitor.

“Yes, Chuchu. She doesn’t deserve to be confined to solitary just because of what Shaddiq has done. Why do you care so much, anyways?”

“She’s a Spacian, Nika! And she could still be in contact with Shaddiq! You don’t know what she could be planning.”

A pause.

“And… I just don’t… want you to get hurt, ok?”

Another pause, and then a couple of steps towards Sabina’s room.

“I know how to take care of myself, Chuchu. She’s not planning anything, she’s just hurt.”

The steps stopped for a second.

“And she’s not dangerous.”

An annoyed huff, further away from Sabina than the footsteps, and then the hallway was quiet.

“Ms. Fardin? Are you awake?”

A soft, hesitant voice came from the other side of the door after a few seconds. Sabina got up slowly, trying to cover her half-awake eavesdropping.

“Ms. Nanaura? It’s late, isn’t it?”

“It is, nearly midnight,” Nika giggled, a nervous but sweet sound that seeped through the door. “I thought you might want a little company.”

Nika opened the door and stood in the entryway, arms behind her back. The light from the hallway was the only illumination in Sabina’s small, windowless room and it bathed Nika in a harsh spotlight-esque effect.

She wasn’t dressed in her normal school uniform, opting instead for a baggy, dark-blue shirt with black athletic shorts. Her hair was a little messier than it had been in days past, but more under control than it had been in the Grassley guest room.

She looks so pretty, even without much effort.

The thought was sudden, and it quickly became the only thing Sabina could notice as she took in all of Nika’s eveningwear.

And then stinging guilt blazed through her as images of Renee fought with the one of Nika right in front of her. Sabina tried to blink it away, but the innocently kind expression and exposed skin in front of her wouldn’t relent.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Sabina’s eyes widened and she blushed in surprise, quickly motioning for Nika to come in with a hand gesture.

“I… thought I was still under detainment,” Sabina murmured. She had pulled her eyes away from the blue-haired woman, but the mental images persisted.

“To the others, maybe. But not to me,” Nika smiled, and suddenly Sabina felt her traitorous heart throb with longing. The raven haired mechanic couldn't know the effect the gesture had as she crossed the room, her hands still held behind her back.  “If Norea and Elan can fight like a married couple all around the grounds, I think, at the very least, you shouldn’t be forced into solitary for what Shaddiq has done.”

“I… appreciate that. I just hope I don’t cause you any problems.”

Nika giggled again and sat on the bed next to Sabina. She brought her arms out from behind her, but kept their contents hidden by her palms.

“It’s just Chuchu who’s making a fuss, and she’s always like that. The rest of them wouldn’t risk upsetting their mechanic. Anyways… I’ve got a little bit more than just company for you,” Nika flipped both of her hands over, revealing two cookies wrapped in clear plastic. “I don’t know about you, but I get a craving for sweets at night.”

Sabina evaluated the desserts in the blue-haired woman’s hands. One was plain chocolate chip while the other appeared to be shortbread topped with blue and purple sprinkles. The clear plastic surrounding them was plain, but as she picked up the shortbread cookie, Sabina noticed that a blue heart sticker kept it closed at the bottom.

“I thought you might pick that one,” Nika giggled as she unwrapped the remaining cookie.

As she unwrapped her own cookie, Sabina couldn’t help but think that the sound of Nika’s laugh was the sweetest thing in the room.

Another pang of deep guilt prevented her from verbalizing that, and so the two of them were quiet as they ate. Sabina watched as Nika cast little glances towards her, and she did the same, though Sabina avoided actually meeting Nika’s gaze.

It was really good, the former Valkyrie thought as she savored the dessert. It didn’t have the typical fabricated, uniform taste that a lot of Asticassia’s food had, instead being very sweet with hints of some slight overcooking.

“Soooo… what did you think, Ms, Fardin?” Nika asked as she took the wrapper from her and stood up to throw it in the corner wastebasket.

“It was really good, thank you, Ms. Nanaura. Where did you get them, if I can ask?”

Sabina’s question was unassuming, but she knew the answer already. What she didn’t know was if she liked or loathed the implications.

Nika’s back was still turned, but Sabina saw her posture stiffen suddenly.

“Ah, uh… A-Aliya made them, she’s… she’s really good at that sort of thing, you know…”

The blue-haired woman quickly crossed the room and started fiddling with the panel by the door.

“It’s really not supposed to be this dark in here, I don’t know why they did this to you,” Nika muttered, a nervous energy in her voice as she tapped on the screen.

A panel on the wall near Sabina’s bed flipped and suddenly the room was bathed in moonlight, a view of Asticassia’s campus now visible. Another tap and the door slid shut. Nika sat back down on the bed, Sabina’s eyes still on her.

“You don’t have to call me Ms. Nanaura, remember? Just Nika is more than enough.”

“Ah… yes, sorry… Nika,” Sabina stammered. The simple and beautiful two-syllable name felt unworthy on her guilty tongue, and she thought of Renee’s dislike of being called “Ms. Costa”.

“Again, I’m really sorry for this arrangement,” Nika gestured at the room around her. “I’ve tried to get them to understand that you abandoned Shaddiq, but Chuchu is in charge now, and she’s…”

“Jealous?” Sabina finished before her brain had caught up and she blushed scarlet.

“You heard her earlier, didn’t you?” Nika sighed and rubbed at her arms. “She’s… yea, a little jealous, I guess. You probably don’t remember, but she was really upset when I finally came out of the Ur. Partially because of how long I was away, and partially because you were there too.”

The blue-haired mechanic sighed again and laid back on the plain comforter. Sabina followed her soft light-blue eyes until they eventually landed on the stars reflected onto the ceiling by the wall panel.

“She’s been so… difficult to deal with as of late,” Nika paused and then let out a short laugh. “Difficult in a different way than usual, I guess. She’s mad anytime I bring up your detainment. I think she’s taking it out on you, actually.”

“How is she usually like?”

The question came out of her mouth before Sabina could really think it over. It hung in the air, even as Sabina thought the guilt that wracked her mind would strike it down.

She knew what she was working towards, she knew what she hoped to hear, and she knew what she wanted in the end. But she also knew what she had, what she felt for Renee, and how badly she wanted to have her again. Sabina was strung between two sides of her own emotions, and they were threatening to rip her apart.

“Well… she’s Chuchu, you know? Loud, brash, but caring in her own way. She’s really stepped up in Miorine’s absence, even if it’s meant less time for us to spend together…”

Nika trailed off, eyes fixed on the simulated stars filtered through the monitor feed.

“You… have feelings for her?”

This time, Sabina’s question was thought-out. It was blunt, and she knew why she had asked, even as the pain of unfaithfulness seared her veins once more. There was only one side of Sabina’s head that could actually win in the moment, despite the other side’s attempts to crush it.

“I… maybe? Probably? I’ve only really known her for a year, but we…”

Suddenly Nika shot up, and she swung her legs onto the bed to face Sabina.

“I am so sorry, I shouldn’t be pouring all this out to you! I forgot about what happened with Renee,” Nika sputtered out her apology, legs crossed and eyes pointed down in an awkward kind of seated bow. “And you’ve been locked down here without anyone to really talk about it with, I’m so sorry Sabina.”

The embarrassed woman pulled her head back up and looked Sabina directly in the eyes.

No, no, nonono… not now, if you say it now, I won’t-

“Do you want to talk about it? I don’t really understand what happened, but I’m here if you want to.”

The ex-Valkyrie felt her carefully composed facade of aloofness melt as Nika asked her that simple question with care and caution. Guilt, regret, infidelity, the kind Earthian was trying to gently sweep them all out, even as Sabina clung to them like a child to her blanket.

She had been like this for as long as Sabina remembered. Even when the older kids in Quinharbor’s slums had clashed with the Dawn of Fold patrols, there was always a shock of dark blue hair in the back, away from the arguing and childish fighting. Soon Sabina learned her name, and watched as she grew as a mechanic and a mediator for the hotheaded kids in the Fold’s camp. Sabina left for the Grassley orphanage, and knew that Nika wouldn’t follow. But her ideals led her back to Sabina, now a Grassley student, and so Nika became the medium between Jeru Ogul and Naji Geor Hija.

She arrived back in Sabina’s life at the same time as Renee, and the older Valkyrie found herself going back and forth between them. Nika was the same idealistic, kind girl Sabina had met in Quinharbor, but even as Shaddiq pressured and harassed her to have Naji take action, the raven-haired Earthian’s dreams refused to wither and only grew stronger. Her life had been so different to Sabina’s, one of diffusing and compromise rather than conflict and dominance, and yet that’s what drew her in.

The conversation now was a painful reversal of how Renee would patiently wait and listen as Sabina unpacked the confusion Nika introduced to her heart. She had been terrified to tell Renee about those feelings, but her loud, brash partner had been attentive and gave Sabina the strength to make it through the meetings with Nika and Shaddiq.

She hadn’t truly realized how much Renee had been propping her up until she was gone, and now Nika had slipped in to keep her upright as everything else was ripped away from her.

“It… it’s a lot to talk about,” Sabina finally admitted, looking at the sky that illuminated half of Nika’s face.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with is okay, Sabina.”

Hearing that soft, somewhat anxious voice say her name with such tenderness finally ripped away Sabina’s blanket of self-deprecation and left her with just the scraps of guilt and sin. Nika replaced it with a feeling of safety that Sabina hadn’t felt since Renee had held her for the last time.

“It started with the alliance with Burion,” Sabina began, her voice barely louder than a whisper, worried that anything louder might compromise her confessions. “I had been drawn to Shaddiq… no, Jeru, because of his vision. I imagine it was the same for you.”

A small, hesitant nod was Nika’s only response.

“He saw a path and wanted to clear the way for it, and I believed in it. But… it changed when Burion and Shin Sei joined him. I can’t explain it… but I felt it. And then…”

Sabina shuddered as she relived the awful day in the Dueling Committee room, though with Nika on the receiving end, the words came easier to her.

“The duel with Suletta happened. You… you saw what he did. What he was like. I couldn’t… I had to leave. I wanted to take you, Norea, and Elan because I knew what he would do otherwise.”

“So that means…”

“Norea and Elan were right. Eventually, Shaddiq eliminates what’s not useful to him anymore.”

Another deep, shuddering breath from Sabina.

“I… stopped him from getting rid of you several times, actually.”

This was an icy shock to Nika, judging by her reaction. She sat in a stunned silence as Sabina continued talking.

“I wanted to take Renee with me too, but Henao…”

It was this memory that truly broke Sabina. No matter how hard she tried to repress it, the grainy, zoomed-in image of the woman she loved, of her Renee , bruised and bloody and in pain, would never leave her. She saw it even now when she closed her eyes, the perfect recollection causing a shudder of pain.

“You… love her, don’t you?”

Sabina fell forward, tears flowing from a well she thought she had exhausted weeks ago, but had no answer to Nika’s barely audible question.

Just like that day in the Ur’s cockpit, Nika gently moved to comfort the taller woman, cradling Sabina’s upper body and allowing her to weep into the soft fabric of her shorts.

I do love her. I love Renee , Sabina thought as she buried her head further into Nika’s lap. She loved her more than she had ever thought possible for herself. She had always understood her, pushed her to do better, and comforted her. Sabina had done all the same for Renee, the one person she felt in-tune with. But despite that, she hadn’t been able to help herself, and she fell for Nika too.

Sabina had flagellated her own emotional state for weeks when she had felt her feelings twist for Nika. The guilt had persisted even after admitting it to Renee, and every thought she had of Nika felt like a lash of infidelity across her back. Sabina had carried those harsh feelings with her ever since, even as she and Renee danced around their feelings for each other.

Why was it so hard with Renee when it’s so easy with Nika? What stopped us from ever admitting it?

And now… now what? The question echoed in Sabina’s head, sincere, yet mocking. Nika was here, Renee wasn’t anymore, and each possible fate of hers tore at Sabina’s heart.

She could be dead. There had been battles involving Benerit forces, according to the things she had overheard, and no publicized casualty reports.

She could have been put into Grassley’s disciplinary program after the attempted desertion. Sabina had seen what that did to its participants, stripping them of any unnecessary emotion and leaving them as little more than a shell of who they had been.

Or she could have simply moved on. Renee had always been carefree and operated many of her relationships in a fast and loose manner. She had her list of back-up boyfriends (and girlfriends, though that part was less well-known), and she hadn’t been protective or possessive when Sabina finally admitted her feelings about Nika to her. Maybe Renee hadn’t told Sabina how she felt because it hadn’t been that serious for her.

Each thought, intrusive and razor-sharp, swirled through Sabina’s mind like debris in a tornado. She couldn’t shake them or their implications, and so she physically retreated further towards Nika, sobs renewed.

Through it all, the raven-haired mechanic was her shelter from the storm. Sabina’s feelings about Nika were far from concrete, but they were more tangible than the possibilities ravaging her brain.

So she gave herself over to Nika, clinging to her physically and mentally as she once again emptied her heart to the woman who was again in the right place at the right time.

–––

From just beyond the door, a solitary, pink-haired figure stood in silence as she listened to the sound of crying mixed with gentle condolences and reassurances. She balled her hand, but restrained the outburst that was bubbling up inside.

With a deep breath to refocus her emotions, the woman spun on one foot and walked to the stairwell, one hand still clenched in a tight, white-knuckled fist.

Can you feel the new day rising

Climbing up the east horizon?

They can't hold us

Now we'll fight through

Each and every one will start new

AD 123, Jeturk Heavy Machinery offices, 9 months after Quiet Zero’s activation

The aftermath of a fallen empire is not a pretty one.

It is messy, it is spiteful, and it is polluted with selfish interests.

The scraps are fought over, and men become wolves as they tear for every chunk of meat they can reach.

It's truly sickening to watch.

And Petra Itta was no stranger to it at this point.

Countless opportunistic CEOs had approached her since her fiance, Lauda Neill, had died.

No… since he had been murdered.

It was murder, executed in cold blood by Secelia Dote.

The name itself was repulsive. It sat in her mind like spoiled milk, unpleasant to even think.

Petra gazed out the window behind what was now her desk. The system was quiet, had been quiet for the last year, largely thanks to the new Benerit Group’s activation of what they called Quiet Zero. From what she understood, it was a supermassive data storm that spanned to the far corners of the solar system, from Mercury to Neptune. It gave nearly full control of every single scrap of Permet technology in existence to the Benerit Group.

The Permet link override ebbed and flowed much like the moon waxed and waned, Petra had learned. Sometimes it was limited to the immediate area of Quiet Zero and other times it stretched to the absolute edge of its influence. Her informants had yet to ascertain what actually generated the data storm, and given that Vim Jeturk had actively deprioritized research into Permet, it was unlikely they ever would.

Unless she brought in an outside source, that is. Something Petra was loath to do, given her already tenuous control of the barely operational remnants of Jeturk Heavy Machinery.

After Lauda's murder, the company had split at the seams.

Many of the Jeturk House members and legacy families wanted to leave, horrified at what had transpired on that small battlefield. So, Petra had allowed them to. She had given them whatever severance possible and had tried to set them up to continue their education or land on their feet with another company. After all, there was no sense in keeping unwilling participants, and it bought her goodwill while also staying true to Lauda's spirit.

Those Jeturk students and companies who remained did hold loyalty to Petra herself. Classmates from Asticassia, families close with the Ittas, or the dwindling number of those who saw her as the closest thing left to a successor within Jeturk. That contingent was unofficially led by Kamil, who had been instrumental in picking up the pieces left over and arranging them into something resembling a company.

The rest of the Jeturk remnants held varying loyalties, some to money, some to vengeance, some to the thrill of the fight. It made them strong but not trustworthy, much like mercenaries. They were skilled, they were obedient, but they were bloodthirsty, for lack of a better term.

They were also barely Jeturks , Petra thought with distaste. Sure, some of them were from companies under the umbrella, but they would've been equally as fine as Peil or Grassley-adjacent companies.

Many, many of them were subservient to Rajan Zahi, the bastard bureaucrat who had offered his connections to Lauda to exact revenge on Burion. He had become a parasite Petra couldn’t shake, namely because she had no other options. He provided the funding she needed, the connections she needed, the combat training she needed, everything that would help her find some sort of stable ground.

Make no mistake, Petra despised everything he stood for. Rajan was not only one of the reasons Lauda died, but he was also a neglectful, self-interested warmonger who had not once made a move to support Jeturk Heavy Machinery while it floundered. She knew, had vowed as much, that he would be forced to answer for his actions eventually.

For now, though, he had to be treated with faux-importance, pampered like a spoiled diplomat. The more agreeable Petra seemed, the more support he would give her, and the more leniency she would have to enact her own vengeance.

She slowly turned away from the vast expanse beyond her window, letting the scenery of her office take its place. This was her company now, though, and damned if she’d ever let that be forgotten. Lauda, in the heartbreakingly short time they’d had together, made sure Petra was ready to take charge and lead.

It had been in this exact room that he had entrusted the future of Jeturk and all of its supporters to her, should anything happen to him. Lauda had stood right where Petra was now, arms tightly wrapped around her-

“Ms. Itta, Mr. Zahi and Mr. Avery are here.”

Kamil’s voice snapped Petra from the bittersweet memories. With a long, controlled breath, she took her seat.

“Come in.”

Barely a second after she finished speaking, Rajan Zahi and Kenanji Avery stepped into the office. Both were still dressed in Dominicus uniforms, clinging to the attire of the only organization that had ever given them power. Petra wondered with a cruel smirk how much it stung the two of them to know that the whole system had seen them get cut off from the Benerit Group without so much as a second thought.

“Good evening, Ms. Itta. I know it’s later than our normal meeting time, but a couple things have come to fruition that seemed prudent to discuss sooner rather than later.”

Rajan Zahi spoke with the friendly-toned voice of a born-and-bred bootlicker, masking a manipulative, condescending undertone. His routine as of late bored her, dropping “helpful hints” and essentially appointing himself as her advisor in order to “help manage Jeturk Heavy Machinery’s future”, as he put it. Petra didn’t believe him for a second, of course, but appearances needed to be maintained and whatnot.

“That isn’t a problem, Rajan. If you say it’s important, I can take time for it,” Petra motioned to the chairs in front of her desk. “Now, please fill me in.”

“As of about an hour ago, the Space Assembly League has been dissolved,” Rajan spoke like he was reading a news release, keeping his expression clean. “After their attack on the Benerit Group was an abject failure, the Group was able to spin the attack as an unprovoked act of aggression to try and suppress Spacian support for Earthian causes, while also exposing multiple members of the organization. That, combined with the activation of Quiet Zero and the Group’s significant strides in clearing commerce lanes, collapsed all support for the SAL.”

Petra absentmindedly tapped her cheek with a finger as she mulled over the words. The absence of the Space Assembly League would certainly leave a vacuum in the ruling class, but she suspected that everyone had contingency plans in place for this scenario.

The days after the complete destruction of the SAL’s 27th fleet were still very fresh in her, and everyone else’s, minds. The League’s association with Ochs Earth and GUND technology, Peil’s Enhanced Person program, and the connections with the Dawn of Fold terrorists, everything had been laid bare for the world to see. It had annihilated their reputation, and the Benerit Group had used that stepping stone to lunge at their throat.

“So… what do you think they’re planning to do? Groups like that don’t simply fade into the background,” Petra asked, bracing for a condescending response for her simple deduction.

“Very true, Ms. Itta. Peil is being passive, now that the proper Elan Ceres has assumed control. The current status of the four joint CEOs is also unknown.”

Petra gritted her teeth at the patronizing way he complimented her. That was another of Rajan’s horrible bureaucratic quirks. Because she was young and new, he seemed to think she knew very little about what she was doing and that the positive reinforcement was necessary. Lauda had been more than a romantic partner, and she had nearly two years of Asticassian schooling under her belt; it wasn’t like this political climate was foreign to her.

“The Dawn of Fold has been considerably more active, at least internally,” Rajan continued, slipping back into a flat, even tone. “The Benerit Group’s exposé was the most beneficial for them, and now they’re taking advantage of the commerce routes to build up Quinharbor and extend their influence. The whispers are that Miorine Rembran has been meeting with both the Dawn of Fold and the now-former leadership of the League for months, trying to create a new governing body to fill the void. There are also rumors of Spacian influence in the organization. Information has been sparse, however.”

“Miorine?” Petra raised an eyebrow, Rajan’s information finally hitting something new. “I thought she was the figurehead of GUND-Arm, which would make her a Benerit asset, no?”

“Ah, that's where things get a little tricky,” Rajan relaxed into the chair as he talked, clearly enjoying being able to proselytize the intricacies of Spacian politics to Petra. “The Rembran family, even without Delling as head of the Group, is immensely powerful. Because of the Mercurian Witch’s loss to Shaddiq, GUND-Arm is technically a Grassley subsidiary now, but before signing it away, Miorine gutted the company and moved everything under the Rembran umbrella.”

“So GUND-Arm Inc. is essentially just a name, and everything of worth is still controlled by Miorine?” Petra summarized, having tossed aside the redundancies littered throughout his explanation.

“That… is correct, yes,” Rajan said, visibly taken aback by the succinct recap. “Though I can’t make sense of why Zenelli would do… anything he did before the presidential election. He doesn’t seem to care about the loss of GUND-Arm’s information, or the arranged marriage to Miorine.”

Petra grinned cynically, the answer clear as day to her.

“Simply put, Shaddiq Zenelli is a vindictive, cruel asshole. Ms. Rembran and Ms. Mercury screwed up some of his plans, and he felt like they needed to be punished for it. He does this quite often, this was just the most public instance of it.”

“I… see. I had not met personally with-”

“Oh, you wouldn’t see it normally anyways. But a man like him doesn’t get to a status like that by being kind.”

Petra leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk. Her voice dropped to a low, husky whisper, warning mixed into her words.

“I can tell you both that Shaddiq Zenelli could be the most unknown quantity out there right now, and if he’s the same as he was at Asticassia, he’s more dangerous without a cap on his ambitions.”

Petra relaxed in her chair as the two older men stared at her in a nervous silence. It had felt good to take a bit of control back from those who doubted her abilities. She was no longer a naive schoolgirl, or a starstruck woman head-over-heels for a high school crush. Petra Itta was the leader of a legacy company, shouldering the responsibilities that entailed. She was going to be treated as such, no matter who was sitting across from her.

“Now, if I can make sure I’ve understood everything correctly. The Benerit Group’s Quiet Zero device is fully functional, and their control on Permet links is solid.”

Rajan nodded, sitting up straighter.

“The Space Assembly League is no more, but the corporate heads are still looking to re-enter the political landscape, with plenty of assets to spare.”

Another nod.

“The Dawn of Fold is moving internally and could be angling to work with the former League as well as the Rembran and their sphere of influence, while Peil’s movements are still unknown.”

Rajan nodded again.

“And we know what, exactly, about the actual plans of Prospera Mercury, Shaddiq Zenelli, and the Benerit Group as a whole? And, for that matter, the movements of Shaddiq’s specially-trained inner circle?”

“Well, uh, we know that Sabina Fardin, one of Peil’s enhanced persons, and Nika Nanaura are now with the Rembrans,” Rajan replied hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable after having ceded the flow to Petra.

“That’s all we know?” Petra followed up immediately, a shortness to her words.

“Uh… yes.”

Petra sighed. “It’s your job to fix that, then. If we are to make a move in this new power vacuum, I need to know more. Do you understand?”

Petra was doing her best to project her voice, reaching for the authority in front of her eyes. As much as Rajan knew she needed him for resources, Petra knew he needed her to have any chance at obtaining power again. So she watched with satisfaction as he swallowed his pride and dipped his head.

“Of course, Ms. Itta. I will be in contact with friends around the system.”

“Thank you, Rajan. Now, Kenanji. You’ve been unusually quiet, what do you have to report?” Petra regarded the large man with a calculating stare, the room slowly swinging towards her command.

Kenanji Avery, previously an afterthought in the battle of wills between Petra and Rajan, finally sat up in his chair and met the Jeturk president’s gaze.

“Well, Ms. Itta, I can tell you what Shaddiq’s Valkyries, as I’ve heard them called, have been doing.”

Petra, eyes displaying her intrigue, motioned for him to continue and he cleared his throat.

“They’ve been running operations on the outer edges of Quiet Zero’s datastorm, namely pirate cleanup and currying the favor of those small colonies and remote outposts. Curiously, though, it’s only been three of them, one in an unknown Gundam with a Shin Sei code, and the other two in custom Heindree Sturms. There doesn’t appear to be any ulterior motives to these missions, however.”

“I would guess they’re testing the capabilities of the unknown Gundam, then,” Petra rolled her neck, stiff from the long debriefing. “Thank you both-”

“I have a few more updates you may be interested in, Ms, Itta,” Kenanji interrupted, his tone even and eyes still fixed on Petra.

“One, the repair and upgrade work has begun on the Schwarzette,” he said after Petra had turned her head back towards him. “The engineers are working on bypassing some of the datastorm’s control on Permet, and have asked for your input on armaments. Two, I’ve heard from Peil pilots that they’ve been sharing information with the Rembrans, namely GUND Format combat data. Unfortunately that’s all I know on that front as of now.”

Kenanji cleared his throat once more and relaxed slightly.

“Lastly, and I’m unsure if this is of any significance, but an unknown mobile suit with Burion codes has been observed on the outer edges of the system, near Langlands. The only curious thing is that it’s been there for several months at this point, and there are no other known Burion Company assets nearby.”

Petra nodded and stood up, pushing her chair to the side.

“Monitor that and Peil and let me know if something does change. And you can let the engineering teams know that I’ll have a list prepared by the end of the week.”

She turned around and stared again at the space beyond the Jeturk front.

“Thank you both. We will remind people of Jeturk’s might before the curtain closes on this era.”

Neither of her guests responded, and a few seconds later the door opened and closed. She then heard soft footsteps approach her desk.

“Ms. Itta?” Kamil’s voice came from behind her.

“And then, I will show people what righteous vengeance looks like.”

The struggle of The Songbird and The Falcon will continue in Act 2

Chapter Text

2:29 P.M. local time, March 12th, AD 126

225 kilometers above the surface of Mars

A figure clad in a dark blue and purple pilot suit hopped the railing in the capital ship’s hangar and launched herself through the air. She came to a stop on the open cockpit hatch of a tall mobile suit adorned with striking royal-blue armor, large wing-like attachments on its back, and an enormous sword attached to its arm, a wide, chrome blade folded behind it.

With a final check that her suit was on properly, she pulled herself into the cockpit and strapped in.

“We’ve got five confirmed targets in the airspace around the planet,” a flat, slightly deep female voice crackled over the comms. “They’re still approaching their atmospheric descent point, but they could drop towards the gravity well during combat.”

“Acknowledged, I’ll just have to stop them from getting there in the first place,” the pilot replied, full of self-confidence.

She flipped the switches to power up her weapons and confirmed the target locations on her map. They were around 150 kilometers above Mars, headed for a point to drop down onto the surface and begin a hostile takeover of a small Martian colony mining metal for ferrolaminate alloy.

‘Typical ,’ the pilot sighed, as she tapped a few final buttons on the mobile suit’s interface. These small-time pirate groups were as bothersome as they were easily defeated. The biggest issue was how many there were lately, and with the Benerit Group scaling back its colony protection details for reasons unknown to her, it felt like every other day was pirate control.

It's good practice, at least. And maybe, if I keep exploring places like this, I'll find-

“Mobile suit synchronized to rail propulsion systems,” the woman's voice came over the radio again and broke the pilot's train of thought. “Transferring launch controls.”

“Received. Energy levels are stable, opening hangar door,” the mobile suit pilot drummed her fingers against the buttons on the underside of the control stick, and fixed her gaze on the distant red planet.

If you're down there, I'll find you. But first…

“Launch sequence cleared, take off when ready.”

“Acknowledged. LP025, sortieing to elimina-”

“You know this isn't Asticassia anymore, right? You don't need to announce your student ID,” the even-toned woman reminded, as she poorly suppressed a chuckle.

“That's just because you like your callsign, isn't it, Kruger?” The pilot shot back with a laugh, controls still grasped tightly in her hand.

“You're damn right it is. Now go, and be careful out there,” “Kruger” snapped, though her words lacked much actual bite to them.

The mobile suit pilot sighed and yanked the control stick forward, starting the unit’s thrusters and sending it down the rails. The rumble of the machine’s frame always filled her with a certain anxiousness, no matter how many times she sorted; a precursor to the adrenaline of an impending fight, yet also bringing with it the comfort of an old and familiar blanket.

“Songbird, MSJ-A003 Shrike, launching!”

The enormous mobile suit sparked on the electromagnetic launch system and rocketed out of the hangar bay at full burn. The Shrike soared above the dusty planet, effortlessly slicing through the space in front of it. “Songbird” leaned into a corkscrew descent and angled herself on a flight path to intercept the enemy formation from above.

“All systems normal, visual contact estimated in five seconds,” the Shrike’s pilot radioed. 

The hum of the weapon systems, and the adrenaline within her veins, pulled her thoughts away from the red far beneath her and even from the one she sought to find; though the memories she clung to never strayed too far.

“Copy that, Songbird. Weapons free, engage at your discretion.” “Kruger” replied as the tracking on the targets dinged to show that the Shrike was closing in on the green dots.

The pilot of the Shrike slammed on the thruster controls, accelerating the corkscrew and sending her rocketing into visual distance of the enemy units. Her eyes widened in anticipation and her breathing quickened, as her fingers drummed impatiently on the mobile suit’s controls.

“Visual confirmation of enemy formation,” the pilot reported with a grin as camera array stills populated the Shrike’s UI. “Five enemies, all mobile suits. One Dilanza Sol, two Demi Garrison, one Heindree, one Zowort Heavy. No major affiliation, mobile suits seem to be stolen and modified.”

“Acknowledged. Formation seems to be slowing down and preparing for atmospheric entry. Colony is approximately 75 kilometers north.” “Kruger” relayed, her tone still flat and business-like. “Surrounding airspace is clear, they have no immediate reinforcements.”

“Copy, making contact now. Over and out,” the Shrike’s pilot said with a smirk before closing the channel.

‘She deserves some time to slack off, after all,’ “Songbird” grinned, as she eased off the thrusters. The local pirates were often untrained rogues, who all fought the same way and wanted to do nothing more than exploit the local workers. This meant that, at the end of the day, while she couldn’t half-ass any fights, these missions were cut and dry; just so long as “Kruger” remembered to keep track of each one.

And the faster I dispatch them, the more time I have to search.

She moved one of the mobile suit’s manipulators to the waist and grabbed a small, unassuming beam pistol from the skirt armor. The Shrike eased off of its descent and came to a stop just above her enemies, causing all five to draw their weapons and face the blue and white mobile suit.

“Songbird” sighed and reached for the closed-circuit radio button to broadcast a warning to the group of pirates.

Hey, maybe they’ll lose their edge if I confront them. It’s not like every band of pirates is unrepentantly viol-

The mobile suit at the front, a Heindree with a crudely scratched-out Grassley logo on the shoulder and beam burns across its shield and chest, immediately fired a volley of shots from its beam pistol.

‘Well, it was a nice thought at least,’ the Shrike’s pilot sighed, as she easily sidestepped the incoming fire. The Heindree charged forward, while the other four mobile suits split off and began combat maneuvers.

With a quick jab-step forward, the Shrike swung its right arm. The oversized “Butcher Blade” that was folded against the back of the arm snapped to full extension in the blink of an eye. It met the Heindree’s lance, and a rain of sparks glinted off the armor of both machines.

As both pilots recovered from the collision of their weapons, the arm-mounted blade of the Shrike began to vibrate. “Songbird” pulsed her thrusters to advance into her opponent’s guard, driving the Heindree back and cutting into the shaft of its lance.

When the pirate attempted to push the other mobile suit away, the degraded metal of its weapon finally gave out; allowing the Shrike to cut through not only the Heindree’s weapon, but its left leg as well. Pulling its sword back, “Songbird” moved in for the kill, but was forced into evasive maneuvers when a warning alarm blared into her cockpit.  

A hail of beam fire occupied the space where she had been just moments before, destroying the Heindree’s severed leg and covering the Shrike’s escape. While “Songbird” lingered beneath her opponents, she drummed the keys of her control stick and watched them frantically scan the field for any sign of her mobile suit.

“Get yourselves a Kruger next time.” She quipped to herself, as the vibration from her arm-mounted weapon carried into her seat.

The Zowort Heavy’s pilot was the first to notice that their opponent was below them. However, by the time it moved to fire on the blue and white mobile suit, it was far too late.  

Slamming her control stick forward, the Shrike rocketed up and rapidly closed the distance between it and the crippled Heindree. Thrusting out with her vibrating Butcher Blade, “Songbird” cleaved clean through the Grassley mobile suit; sending blood and hydraulic fluid into the vacuum of space.

‘That Zowort pilot might actually be an interesting opponent,’ The Shrike’s pilot smirked, as she cleared the destroyed Heindree before it could explode. ‘They’ve got good instincts.’

Smoke again obscured the view of the remaining pirates, and only one of the Demi Garrisons was bold enough to traverse it. As the Burion mobile suit approached the cloud, a large beam shot split through it and ripped through the Demi Garrison’s head unit.

‘The rest of them are too inexperienced to matter. If I didn’t know what their goals were, I wouldn’t even bother,’ “Songbird” thought as she tensed a finger against the weapon controls.

She enjoyed the feeling of piloting the Shrike and using its array of weaponry, there was no denying that. But the act of actually killing an opponent, even now, scratched at the pit of her stomach. It was easier when she could convince herself that it was her or them. Or, like now, that they were ontologically evil and preying upon people who couldn’t defend themselves.

Without any main cameras, the Demi Garrison drifted away from his three inexperienced allies, who were too slow to react when the Shrike rocketed across the gap between them. The vibrations coming from the Butcher Blade ceased, allowing the arm holding the weapon to return to a resting position, while its other hand went for one of the beam pistols attached to its waist. “Songbird” roared through the debris field, as she aimed the smaller weapon at her wounded enemy.

She felt the adrenaline of the fight pounding in her veins as she zeroed in on her opponent. “Songbird” let out a war-cry and aimed a kick at the machine’s lower half.

“You’re mine!”

Letting the momentum of her thrusters aid the attack, the Shrike’s foot landed hard against the headless mobile suit. The thrusters attached to the Demi’s leg unit crumpled under the force of her kick, sending it careening into a safer firing range. Before the damaged suit could restabilize itself, a trio of beam shots ripped through the armor plating of its chest.

The pilot-less Demi Garrison tumbled away for several seconds, before succumbing to the Shrike’s high-output pistol rounds. The damaged fuel reserves and munitions went critical a moment later, turning the crippled mobile suit into a funeral pyre for its pilot.  

‘Three left, all systems green ,’ “Songbird” cornered the Shrike and stared down the remaining opponents. She gave a quick glance to the UI’s timer.

‘Running about average on time ,’ she grimaced. The fatigue had begun to creep into her limbs, subtle but sinister, and each hard turn or sudden acceleration introduced that much more margin for error. 

“Songbird” stowed her pistol to brandish her Butcher Blade once again, wielding the massive sword at the other Demi Garrsion. A standard-issue Burion beam saber blazed within its manipulator, the specs of which the Shrike’s pilot could recite in her sleep, as the Zowort Heavy and Dilanza Sol maneuvered behind the other mobile suit.

The Demi’s thrusters flared to life, charging at its opponent and slashing towards the blue mobile suit’s chest. However, instead of finding the Shrike’s armor plating, the pirate found only the vibrating blade of “Songbird’s” main weapon.

Metal met beam and sparks flew as the two pilots at full burn passed by each other.  They arced around, lining up for another pass.

“Songbird” let the Butcher Blade wait at her side as she streaked towards the Demi. The plane of the battle had flipped and now her opponent was the one who had to attack across their body. She saw her opportunity form as the enemy’s mobile suit neared.

The Burion suit was quickly in range, and as the pilot opted for a thrust aimed at the Shrike’s cockpit, she feathered her thrusters into a small sidestep maneuver. The jab came up empty, creating just enough of a window.

With a yell, “Songbird” flicked the right arm of the Shrike towards the Demi Garrison and slashed from waist to shoulder. The armor plating twisted and shredded, unable to provide much resistance in the face of the Shrike’s overwhelming weaponry. A strangled cry interrupted the silence of the radio, and she flicked away the ruined mobile suit, turning the sword towards the two remaining enemies.

Except… they had moved.

The Dilanza Sol and Zowort Heavy were blazing in the opposite direction, thrusters in full burn as they dropped towards Mars’ atmosphere.

“Bastards!” “Songbird” yelled as she folded the Butcher Blade against the Shrike’s arm and yanked the thruster controls to maximum output. She tore through the void around her, the black mixing with the red glow as she descended closer to Mars.

With several decisive trigger pulls, the Shrike rained beam fire upon the pirates. The handle of the Butcher Blade was designed to also work as a standard-issue beam rifle when the blade was folded back, allowing “Songbird” to control the pace of an encounter even more easily. Each shot also expended less energy than the magnum beam pistols, which kept the Shrike unpredictable even as battles dragged on.

One beam glanced off the shoulder shield of the Dilanza Sol, another impacted the tip of the footpad of the Jeturk machine, and the rest were dodged expertly by the pilot of the Zowort Heavy. With another curse, “Songbird” climbed several meters, and then pulled the Shrike into a rapid descent, the “wings” on its backpack extended to give it even more propulsion.

The Zowort Heavy, using the signature increased mobility of a Peil suit, was flying backwards now, and it took aim at the Shrike with its long rifle. “Songbird” rolled her mobile suit as she closed in on the enemies. The Peil machine’s shots lost their lock and darted harmlessly past the royal blue mobile suit.

‘Damnit he’s good… I can’t let them get any closer or they’ll break through the atmosphere,’ “Songbird” grimaced as she wiped away blood from her lip. Something in her nose had burst during her aileron roll, and her body was beginning to feel like it was a couple beats behind her mind. I can’t continue it like this though, the g-force reducers can only do so much…

The limitations of her own body frustrated “Songbird”. She enjoyed the rush of endorphins every time she pushed the Shrike’s thrusters to the limit, and the feeling of weightlessness when she cornered or rolled. But still she was human, and she couldn’t enjoy these sensations for as long as she wanted.

I can at least end this in style.

The Shrike pulled out of its roll and cut its thrusters. “Songbird” tapped a couple buttons on the UI and tightened her grip on the controls.

The large blue mobile suit’s “wings” adjusted to full horizontal extension before they both folded down to sit above each shoulder. As they came to a stop, the backside of each “wing” swiveled and turned to the front. “Songbird” raised the left hand of the Shrike, and slammed her own hand down on the fire controls.

Two enormous gouts of intense scarlet light erupted from the railcannons on each “wing” and ripped through the black void between the Shrike and its adversaries. Before they could react, the beams tore through the chest of the Dilanza Sol and the black mobile suit exploded in a vibrant red-orange glow. The debris peppered the upper atmosphere of Mars, the atmospheric entry quickly disintegrating each chunk.

“Songbird” grinned at the direct hit, and then grimaced as she checked the Shrike’s energy gauges.

“Not to burst your bubble, 'cause that was a neat light show, but you’ve only got a couple more minutes of optimal operating time after that.”

“Kruger”’s voice, dry and amused, sounded from the comm panel.

“Thanks for your brilliant observation, asshole,” “Songbird” shot back as she folded the “wings” back down and snapped the Butcher Blade back to full extension.

“Hey! For once I didn’t do anything!”

This time, a male voice came over the Shrike’s radio. His tone was mock-offended with poorly stifled laughter mixed in.

“Both of you, shut up!” “Songbird” snapped as she rocketed the Shrike into full thruster burn towards the Zowort Heavy.

As she streaked towards it, blade drawn, she finally got a good look at the Peil mass-production machine. It was the standard dark green color scheme, with two missile pod attachments over each shoulder. The biggest difference between it and a normal Zowort Heavy was the large sword it carried, more of a slab of heavy metal than a precision slicing instrument like the Shrike’s.

It’s almost like one of the old training swords for my old Demi Garrison back at Asticassia…

A sudden wave of reminiscent melancholy assaulted her as she remembered the daily training sessions against procedurally-generated enemies, the one-on-one sparring sessions, and the quiet debriefs with… him.

It felt like she was being carved by a knife, no matter how many times she revisited that particular well. But through the pain, she gained clarity, a reminder of what she hoped for in the depths of her being.

Through gritted teeth and deafening warning alarms, “Songbird” brought up the Butcher Blade just in time to meet the massive sword of her opponent. The two mobile suits crossed blades with the full burn of their thrusters behind them.

‘Not a normal Zowort at all… he’s matching my thruster output almost exactly,’ she thought as her grip tightened around the controls. The blood from her nose had found its way into her mouth, and all “Songbird” could taste was iron.

The Zowort Heavy shoved against the Butcher Blade and created a gap between it and the Shrike. The pirate furthered it as he jetted backwards with blinding speed and in a few seconds the army-green mobile suit was in missile lock-on range.

The warning signals sounded again, telling “Songbird” that her opponent had a fix on her for the missile targeting system. Sure enough, the two missile pods over the Zowort Heavy’s shoulders erupted with smoke and sent their explosive payloads screaming towards the Shrike.

“Songbird” kicked the thruster system back into gear and fixed the Shrike’s enemy tracking systems on the barrage of missiles heading for her. She bobbed and weaved in erratic patterns, and the outdated tracking systems struggled to keep up with the Shrike’s incredible speeds.

A burst of vulcan fire took out a couple of the projectiles, and the smoke gave “Songbird” a cover from the Zowort Heavy’s suppressive fire. Another few missiles got behind the Shrike and couldn’t get a new fix on her, instead soaring harmlessly for some undetermined amount of time before eventually exploding.

The Shrike burst through the smoke, only a few meters from the remaining missiles and a few more meters away from the Zowort Heavy. “Songbird”, eyes fixated on the final enemy in her path, clenched her teeth and took a deep breath, blocking out the warning that there was an active lock on her mobile suit.

She felt everything slow down as she slammed on the booster controls and marked one, two, three, four missiles in her mind.

With an upwards slash from the Butcher Blade, the first missile was ripped in half and exploded harmlessly against the backside of the Shrike.

The second and third missiles fell similarly, cut in half by one broad, horizontal slice.

A beam shot streaked towards the royal blue mobile suit as it danced through explosions and projectiles. With a sudden kill of the thrusters, the Shrike dropped below the red beam and continued its beautiful rampage like nothing had happened.

The fourth was split from nose to tail as she brought the full length of the Butcher Blade down onto it.

All that remained was the Zowort Heavy, still recharging its beam rifle.

“Songbird” pulled the Shrike’s right arm back, its left hand outstretched towards the Peil machine’s cockpit like it had just thrown a punch. With an overwhelming scream, the Butcher Blade stabbed forward, the huge, vibrating blade aimed at the cockpit of the Zowort Heavy.

“GET OUT OF MY WAYYYYYY!”

The Shrike’s sword passed through the thick chest armor of the Peil mobile suit like it wasn’t even there. The deathrattle of the pilot was so short it barely made it over the communication channels, and the tip of the Butcher Blade emerged from the back of the Zowort Heavy.

Time sped back up for “Songbird” and she pulled the blade from her opponents chest, a mix of organic and mechanical fluids pouring from the wound like blood.

“Enemy formation neutralized. Commander’s mobile suit is intact and unlikely to explode, so I’m bringing it back for Bluebird to examine,” “Songbird” panted as the exhaustion chased away the adrenaline.

“Copy that, Songbird. Skadi and Frejya are back from the surface colony now, so we’ll debrief and head back to HQ,” “Kruger” replied, her information corroborated by several voices in the background.

“Acknowledged, returning to Jotunheimr now. Songbird, over and out,” the Shrike’s pilot sighed.

She grabbed the Zowort Heavy by the arm and set a course for the capital ship. “Songbird”’s arms felt like lead weights and even the casual autopilot course speed sent uncomfortable tinges of soreness throughout her body.

With another sigh, she gazed down at the dusty red planet below.

Where are you now? Why are you still hiding?

—--------------------

6:42 A.M. local time, March 14, AD 126

A hangar in the Langlands Corporation Circus Front

A loud yawn, slightly distorted by radio static, echoed around the cockpit of the docked mobile suit.

“Did you have to wake me up so early for this? My head still hurts,” a very tired, feminine voice complained.

“That’s not my fault, you were the one who decided to call for the 6th round of shots,” a quiet male voice responded with feigned annoyance. “And if I recall, you got mad at me the last time I went out without radio support.”

“That’s because you went out to fight a group of bootleggers! You don’t need me for a simple recovery mission,” the woman shot back with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Then you can go back to sleep and work off that hangover if you want,” the man replied as he continued working on the cockpit systems of his mobile suit.

“No, no, I’m already up, there’s no way I’ll be able to fall back asleep now. Just… give me a bit of time to make some coffee, I guess,” the woman yawned again. A quiet thud sounded in the cockpit, and the man assumed she had gotten up and set the headset down.

With a sigh, he scanned over his work.

He was incredibly happy to be alone in the hangar, given the poor state that the machine’s inner workings had been in. The hydraulics had been covered in various dusts and junk, the wiring had been in need of upkeep, and many of the systems had been critically low on lubricant. Outwardly, the armor plating was stained and scratched, as he lacked the tools to fix the scars of pirate skirmishes and falling rocks, and he could only hope tightening some of the pieces had fixed the obnoxious rattle he noticed the last time he took it out.

Being busy is no excuse for poor maintenance. I’ll have to try and find some paint for the armor.

He closed the access panel and stood up, taking care to not bang his head on the ceiling as he did. He wiped his hands on his pilot suit and was about to check in with his radio support when the cockpit hatch opened.

“Coffee delivery?”

A blonde woman with a ponytail draped over her left shoulder stood at the threshold to the cockpit with a thermos in each hand. She was wrapped in a warm-looking light blue and white cloak, and her arm position revealed a long-sleeved black undershirt beneath it.

The blonde woman gingerly stepped into the cockpit, helped by a cane strung around her wrist and adorned with a Haro. While the man stared at her in surprise, she forced one of the thermoses into his hand.

“If you’re going to have me run radio support for an in-orbit rescue mission, I’m going to make sure you go out there with some kind of energy in you,” the woman took a sip of her coffee before she continued. “I know you’ve been here all morning.”

“Thanks, Yushura. Honestly, I thought you were already awake when I forwarded the request information,” the man nervously ran a hand through his messy, dark-blue hair before taking a drink from his thermos. “I couldn’t sleep, and it was kinda… hard to get out of bed with your arm on me.”

The blonde woman, Yushura Mirzakhani, chuckled and gazed at the tools scattered about the cockpit.

“After all those drinks, I might as well have been dead to the world, Rouji. You would've heard about it if you’d woken me up when you got up, anyways.”

“I… fair point,” Rouji Chante conceded after several seconds of word-searching. “I’m a little thankful to have a mission like this now, actually. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d neglected the Gyrfalcon during the recent downtime.”

“If you’d let the Langlands techs in here, maybe you wouldn’t have that issue,” Yushura commented dryly, though Rouji knew it was an empty barb. They’d discussed the maintenance of the Gyrfalcon plenty of times before, and his stance wasn’t going to change.

“The day it stops being my mobile suit is the day they can work on it. Otherwise, it’s my responsibility and my safety in the balance.”

It wasn’t a wholly incorrect statement. He felt more confident piloting when he knew everything that had been done to the machine. But beyond that, Rouji didn’t want the computers accessed by anybody else. There was too much on there, more than he’d let anyone at the front even begin to realize.

The simple presence of Yushura in the cockpit was slightly unsettling to him, actually. She’d only ever been in the Gyrfalcon a handful of times, and Rouji still didn’t know if he felt comfortable letting her into the one place of solitude he had carved out for himself.

A little ridiculous to be so reserved after sharing a bed so many times.

But Rouji had learned all too well that there’s a big difference between physical and emotional intimacy.

He finished off the dregs of his coffee, the sweetness of the sugar and cream helping to chase the bitter thoughts away. With a heavier sigh than he intended, Rouji placed the mug back in Yushura’s hand and began packing up his tools.

“Anyways… I haven’t had time to read the briefing, what’s the mission?”

The blonde woman finished her coffee and leaned against the side of the cockpit, her question a half-hearted attempt to push past the silence that had lasted too long to be comfortable.

“Camping accident. Civilian star-viewing spacecraft bumped an asteroid and can’t use its thrusters to get back,” Rouji replied with a faint huff of exertion, his arms full of repair equipment. He continued explaining as he found the proper spots for each piece. “Just a bunch of teenagers, but they’re not in danger. They’re probably more bored than anything else.”

“Ah, one of those. They’re either bored or they’ve stuffed themselves on s’mores waiting for you to rescue them,” Yushura giggled, a dainty sound that fit her look more than most of her actions around him. “I remember taking one of those camping trips when I was younger. Yushetas and I had a free weekend, and there was the most brilliant aurora near Saturn. We cleared the lights from the front and as we peaked around Jupiter, the sky was lit up with so many beautiful colors.”

Yushura’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but Rouji could tell they were further away than that, lost in a recreated memory. As she kept recalling the moment, her voice grew more and more wistful.

“He had gotten a package of real meat for the occasion, and we cooked it over a real fire while watching the blues and reds mix and flow together. After that we made s’mores and slept in sleeping bags under the stars,” Yushura let the words linger in the air before returning her gaze to Rouji. “Did you ever do anything like that? Actually, at Asticassia, you could’ve done it in actual na-”

“No.” Rouji cut her off, the line of inquiry bringing the bitterness back in full force. “There was never any time. There’s no actual nature at Asticassia anyways.”

The blue-haired pilot tossed the bag of repair tools back in its storage hatch and dropped into the Gyrfalcon’s seat. He really didn’t need to think about his short time at Asticassia, or really anything from that period of his life.

“Maintenance is done, I’m heading out.”

Yushura stared at him awkwardly for several seconds before sighing softly and stepping back onto the hangar scaffolding.

“Good luck,” she whispered, concern still etched across her face.

The cockpit hatch closed and Rouji was bathed only in the light of the Gyrfalcon’s computers. A tap of the screen and the camera array blinked to life, rapidly assembling a panoramic view of the entire hangar. He watched as Yushura exited, then accessed the docking controls and disengaged the mobile suit locks.

The blue-haired pilot closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it as he listened to the hum of the Gyrfalcon’s systems powering up and the faint, monotone buzzing of the cockpit’s electronics.

…

No irregularities. Systems are all running without stutters or hiccups. Repairs sound like they were successful.

Rouji released the held breath and blinked open his eyes. He knew he’d need to listen to the heartbeat, as he called it, of the Gyrfalcon once it was in motion, but for now, he was confident in his work.

The pre-sortie routine also helped to clear his head and throw out the unnecessary thoughts he had let sit around. It had become somewhat less effective, to his chagrin, as thoughts of the war and a past he had tried to leave behind became more and more inescapable.

They weren’t helpful when nothing was happening, and certainly weren’t going to help when there was a camping trip to save.

‘I’ll also have to apologize to Yushura when I get back, I guess,’ Rouji’s now-clearer mind realized with a start.

Like she had heard his thoughts, Yushura’s voice, even and serious, began to speak over the comms speaker.

“The rail system is working normally. You may proceed to the launch deck.”

He let the movement of the Gyrfalcon speak for him and positioned the large, dark-green mobile suit atop the rail catapult.

“Power levels within operational bounds. Gyrfalcon synced to hangar rail. Transferring airlock control.”

Rouji tapped the new pop-up on the screen. The airlock opening process began, lights and alarms blaring in the hangar.

“Transferring launch controls to the Gyrfalcon. Good luck, Falcon .”

The pilot scowled but bit his tongue. It was an attempt at getting back at him for his coldness earlier, and he’d learned long ago it was better to let her have those barbs.

“Rouji Chante, MSJ-A004 Gyrfalcon, launching.”

He pulled the mobile suit’s control stick forward and rocketed out of the Langlands hangar. With a steady hand on the controls, Rouji let his mind and ears focus on the machinery around him.

…

‘No abnormalities again. Systems running normally ,’ he thought with an internal sigh of relief. ‘ Sorry for neglecting you, Gyr. It won’t happen again.’

Rouji spread out the enormous mechanical wings on the back of the Gyrfalcon and kicked the auxiliary thrusters into gear. The mobile suit became a dark green blur as it soared and weaved around the space debris.

—--------------------

4:43 P.M. local time, March 12th, AD 126

Hraesvelgr capital ship “Jotunheimr”, in the orbit of Mars

Air hissed as the cockpit hatch of the Shrike popped open and revealed a messy-haired Secelia Dote.

She had taken off her helmet as soon as the docking sequence with the Jotunheimr had been cleared, which had caused her shoulder-length silver hair to stick up at random spots.

Secelia shook her head and used a hand to flatten some of the messiness before she launched herself towards the hangar floor, letting the Shrike serve the role of a springboard in the 0g environment.

The hangar of the Jotunheimr, one of Hraesvelgr’s Yggdrasil-class capital ships, was both a lot brighter and busier than when Secelia had left. Part of that was her doing, as the corpse of the Zowort Heavy was laying in the middle of the floor. Nobody was willing to go near it until the mechanic crew got to it, and the blood leaking from the massive sword wound in its chest wasn’t exactly inviting, either.

‘You’d think they’d be used to that by now,’ Secelia grinned as she worked her way across the hangar floor.

The other factor was the addition of two gargantuan mobile suits, one a deep teal and the other a bright scarlet. They towered over the repair staff, who were hard at work on the several blast marks and deep cuts on the armor of both machines.

Just out of the way of the mechanics, a group of four people, two clad in pilot suits similar to Secelia’s own, were chatting casually. A woman with hair the same shade of teal as the mobile suit behind her noticed Secelia’s approach.

“You’re certainly the mechanic’s favorite today, ‘Songbird’,” Norea du Noc remarked dryly, though a slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Yea, I can tell,” Secelia replied as she looked up at the two battle-scarred mobile suits and then back at her own nearly flawless one. “Did you two run into a minefield or something?”

This was directed at the two pilots, one with vibrant scarlet hair cropped just below her ears and the other with dark purple hair that hung past her shoulders and was braided like a headband across the top of her head.

“Ah… well, we didn’t know these pirates had gotten a shipment of rocket launchers, and…” The red-headed pilot, Suletta Mercury, trailed off and rubbed the back of her head.

“They had loaded some of their rockets with shrapnel, too. The damage looks worse than the outcome of the battle,” the woman with purple hair, Sabina Fardin, picked up where Suletta had left off.

The head mechanic assigned to the Jotunheimr, Nika Nanaura, gave Sabina a light shove and a look that was disapproving for all of two seconds.

“You know that just because I’m in charge of repairs doesn’t mean you have a pass to take every shell off the Ur’s armor, right? I’m not against giving you an earful off the clock.”

Sabina dipped her head formally towards the smaller woman.

“I’m sorry, Nika.” She apologized, without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “I’ll come back unscathed next time.”

The blue-haired mechanic flushed and buried her face in Sabina’s pilot suit.

“Sabbbbb… don’t take my jokes so seriously, it makes me feel bad,” Nika whined as the purple-haired pilot began to stroke her partner’s hair. “I’m glad you came back safe, my love.”

“I promised you I would, didn’t I? I’d never break that promise, Bluebird.” Sabina replied softly, but it was loud enough to elicit a groan from Norea.

“Do you have to do that here ? Have some consideration for the people who have to watch you two be all cutesy,” the teal-haired woman grumbled and looked at Secelia and Suletta.

Part of Secelia was secretly thankful for Norea’s objection, as Sabina and Nika’s closeness flared up thoughts she had tried to quash multiple times. But the other part of her was happy for her friends, and so Secelia just shrugged.

“It’s not like you and Five are that much different, Ms. Norea,” Suletta chimed in cheerily, which only elicited an instant groan from the shorter Earthian.

“Well, that’s not entirely true. Norea and Five like to find places they think nobody’s going to look for their displays of affection,” Secelia teased, her bout of bitterness successfully suppressed. “You’d almost think they want to be caug-”

Secelia cut herself off as she dodged an elbow from the woman next to her.

“You all are insufferable,” Norea muttered as she recomposed herself and turned to exit the hangar. “I’m going to piece through the after-action reports. Let me know when the head mechanic has unglued herself from her pilot and gone through the computer of that Heavy.”

“Oh, Ms. Norea! MioMio, I mean, Mrs. Rembran has called the Jotunheimr back to the Hraesvelgr Front, so we’ll all be back home soon!”

Suletta shouted the information at Norea’s departing back, and the teal-haired woman’s only response was an equally loud “Finally!” that she didn’t even bother to turn around to say.

“She's kept us out here long enough,” Secelia muttered.

It had been nearly three months since Miorine Rembran had sent the Jotunheimr to patrol the area between Mars and Mercury. The trip was interesting at first, an opportunity to see the areas closer to the sun, something that a lot of Spacians hadn't been able to do. Suletta had been a boundless source of energy when they were around Mercury as well, excitedly pointing out places she'd taken the Aerial to while she grew up.

Unfortunately, the novelty wore off too quickly, and once the focus moved towards Mars it got exceedingly boring.

Secelia had been around that whole area more than she cared to admit as well. She'd seen every nook, cranny, and canyon in the dusty red planet’s orbit on her own time.

“I think I'm going to return to my quarters too,” the silver-haired pilot finally said as she focused back on the people in front of her. “No need to keep getting in the way of the mechanics, and there's some battle data to review.”

Sabina nodded in reply, while Nika quickly pulled herself away from her partner and moved towards the destroyed Zowort.

“That's a good reminder! I need to get to work, while you,” Nika pointed a finger at Sabina commandingly. “Need to go and rest up. Suletta, you should probably do the same.”

Secelia watched as the two Gundam pilots turned and headed for the Jotunheimr’s mess hall before she turned to go the opposite direction.

“Please let me know whatever you find from that,” she gestured at the Peil mobile suit. “And if there's anything wrong with the Shrike, of course.”

Nika gave a brief nod and crouched next to the Zowort, gazing into the gaping hole in the chest of the machine.

“Brutal… a good reminder to not get on her bad side…” the short-haired mechanic whispered, just on the border of Secelia’s hearing.

The silver-haired pilot stopped briefly, the words caught in some strange mental crevice.

“Is murder okay with you now?”

An old wound reopened, a phantom accusation lobbed at a face that was still streaked with flecks of dried blood.

Anxiety overtook Secelia, not sure if she should say something or let it retreat back into the past. Nika had started her work with a relaxed focus, her offhand comment seemingly forgotten already.

In the seconds it took to look at Nika, the atmosphere of the hangar had become oppressive and overstimulating. While the simple sentence hung at the forefront of Secelia’s mind, it felt like every eye, human and machine, was looking at her and what had been left in her wake.

‘It’s just fatigue, I just need to rest,’ Secelia repeated in her mind as she retreated into the Jotunheimr’s corridors. The path back to her quarters felt labyrinthian, twisting and snaking infinitely like the hallways were being reshaped by her attempts at self-affirmation.

When Secelia finally opened the door to her room, she realized that her forehead was slick with sweat. Her throat felt tight, and she could barely hear her slowly normalizing breathing over the aggressive, rapid beating of her heart. She reached a shaking hand into a chest pocket on her pilot suit and curled her fingers around a small data drive.

As Secelia sat down and pulled her hand from her pocket, she took several deep breaths and let her mind exit the cockpit of the Shrike.

The defection from Burion had made many things slightly more frustrating to do, one of which was data transfers from the Shrike’s sensors. Hraesvelgr leadership (namely Naji Geor Hija and Olcott) had deemed it too risky to allow Secelia’s mobile suit to interface directly with the computers, so all information needed to be manually moved onto removable storage. It did, however, let her control what was public knowledge about her missions, which Secelia appreciated, particularly in situations like this.

Her body and mind now more under her own control, Secelia loaded the data drive into her personal computer. Earlier, she had taken advantage of Norea’s inattentive monitoring and found a long route back to the capital ship. The Shrike’s sensors had been running on maximum range the entire time, leaving Secelia with countless pages of data to scan through.

In the deep recesses of her mind, she knew there was unlikely to be anything within the scans. It had been two years since she’d started actively looking for signs of Rouji in addition to her work with Hraesvelgr, and the few, small traces she’d tracked down had all turned up empty.

You really outdid yourself this time, Rouji… Completely disappearing for years, with a one-of-a-kind mobile suit to boot.

Secelia sighed deeply and loaded the Shrike’s scan data. She adjusted herself in her chair and began parsing through the datapoints.

I didn’t want you to leave like that, Rou…

—--------------------

9:22 A.M. local time, March 14, AD 126

Mirzakhani offices, Langlands Corporation Circus Front

Rouji hung his helmet back on its hook in the hangar locker and stretched his back, a sigh escaping in the process.

The mission had been, as expected, bog-standard. The stranded teenagers had been perfectly fine, roasting s’mores as an early breakfast while they waited for rescue. Really, he had viewed it more as a test flight than anything of major consequence. The Gyrfalcon flew without issues, and he was happy that the rattle had been fixed, so it was a success in his mind.

The teenagers had been safely unloaded into the arms of a handful of worried, fussing parents at the civilian hangar, and Rouji had slipped into the Mirzakhani’s private hangar in the commotion.

It had been empty when he docked the Gyrfalcon, and it remained that way as he pulled his pilot suit off and exited in a light, loose-fitting black shirt and similar pants. The hangar office was similarly empty, and so Rouji contented himself with waiting for someone to find him in the lounge.

The blue-haired pilot laid his head on a pillow, stretched out across the cushions of a soft couch on the back wall, and stared at the ceiling.

It was flawlessly white, intersected with black lines where the tiling was set together. Rouji followed the lines with his eyes over and over, his mind focused on nothing in particular.

Tomorrow I’ll check the hydraulics and make sure the weapons systems aren’t getting dusty. After that… I don’t really know. Yushura and Till have everything at the park itself running fine, and it’s been calm around here otherwise. Paint will have to be custom-ordered, and the armor scratches will take some machining to sort out, so that will have to wait until next week…

He tried to go over his mental checklist and prioritize the items that had been on there for a while, but there was almost nothing to begin with. Even with the extra mechanic tasks he’d neglected while Yushura’s amusement park had required more attention, Rouji had an uncomfortable amount of free time.

He couldn’t pinpoint when, exactly, he’d begun to dread open schedules, but he did know that it hadn’t been relevant for nearly the last year. From about the moment he’d arrived at the Langlands Front, Rouji had been put to work on park maintenance while also balancing civilian assistance requests. He couldn’t complain, however. Yushura was providing him with a place to live on top of a generous salary, and getting to know her and her business partner, Till Nys, had been a welcome change after floating from colony to colony for so long.

Rouji knew that Till was aware of who he was, given that they’d crossed paths at Asticassia during Suletta Mercury’s reign as Holder, and Yushura had seen the Gyrfalcon’s identification codes, so she likely had some idea as well. But neither had brought it up so far, and if the policy was “Don’t ask, don’t tell”, he was more than fine with it staying that way.

Rouji’s mind tried to wander further, but something in the previous train of thought had dug into his brain. The couch suddenly felt much too spacious, and the pillow under his head was akin to a slab of metal. He fidgeted, but the heavy wave of melancholy and the feeling that something was missing wouldn’t leave.

‘Can I not finally get beyond this?’ Rouji lamented as he pulled himself off the couch and paced the small room. ‘ I found a new place, with new people, and yet she still haunts my steps… even when there’s nothing to return to.’

He rubbed at his eyes before sitting back down and staring at the floor, suddenly feeling more tired than he’d been when he entered the lounge.

It was at this moment that the door slid open, too quickly for Rouji to sort himself out.

“Oh, there you a-” Yushura cut herself off, gaze fixed on him. “Is everything ok? Do you need to see the medical staff?”

Rouji jolted upright and walked over to her, trying to hide the fatigue that wracked his mind and body.

“Ah, Yushura… no, it’s alright, just a little tired. What are you doing? You weren’t in the command room, so I figured you had something to attend to.”

“Just had to help Yushetas with something, nothing major. Everything’s calm, so Till and I wanted to spend the day loitering around the front and relaxing,” the blonde woman said with a smile, the concern gone from her voice. “You’re welcome to join us, our first stop was going to be breakfast.”

Rouji mulled her words as he stood in place. That venomous melancholy was still present, and it wanted him to say no. It would be easy to turn down Yushura’s offer and instead spend the day in his own head, battling phantoms from the past. But he felt something else surface from the pit of emotions.

Rouji felt a defiant kind of motivation, spurred on by some dormant memory that had been awakened by his prior torment. There was no reason to turn down her offer, not if he really wanted to move on. So Rouji ignored the parts of his brain that berated him for using Yushura, as well as the ones that knew the day would end with him in a bed that wasn’t his own, and nodded.

“That would be nice, actually. I don’t like to work on the Gyrfalcon on the same day I take it out, anyways,” the blue-haired man said as he motioned for Yushura to lead the way.

“Oh, and… I’m sorry about earlier,” Rouji said hesitantly as he fell in behind Yushura. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, I just… had a lot on my mind.” 

“Huh?” Yushura cocked her head slightly before her mind recalled the moment. “Ohhh, that. Don’t even worry about it, Rouji, it’s all good!”

She grabbed the blue-haired pilot by the hand and took off into the sunlight of the Langlands Front.

“Now c’mon, Till’s probably starving!”

Chapter Text

Secelia blinked a few times, the light harsh to her eyes. She looked around as the fuzziness retreated from her eyes.

She was at Asticassia. The sunlight had a filtered, unnatural quality to it, and everything felt just a little bit off. But Secelia didn’t mind. It was a perfect simulation of a warm spring day, and there was really no reason to focus on the minutia.

In front of her, there was a cup of tea, and beyond that was a boy with messy dark-blue hair sipping nervously from his own cup. The sight was as adorable as it was funny, and Secelia fought a chuckle with a sip of her own drink.

They were seated outside of a little cafe, light filtering onto their legs through the latticed metal pattern of the small white table. Secelia set her cup down, the clink against the metal harmonizing with her companion’s similar action.

“The tea here is pretty good, huh Rouji?” Secelia asked, nervousness in her voice but not her mind.

The boy flinched ever so subtly as her voice broke the silence and hurriedly set his drink down to respond.

“Ah… yes, it’s really nice, their peppermint is just like I’ve heard it described in Earthian books,” Rouji replied, though he wasn’t looking directly at Secelia, instead seeming to study her left arm.

“I never took you for the type to study tea, Rouji,” she teased, a slight grin on her face. “It’s not just similar to Earthian peppermint, the leaves come from the offspring of a plant grown by Ms. Rembran. Their brewing method is exclusive to Asticassia, though.”

“I didn’t know Ms. Rembran shared anything from her greenhouse, that seems… unexpected,” the blue-haired boy replied hesitantly, the initial image of Asticassia’s “princess” evidently still fresh in his head.

“It’s not like she did it out of only the goodness of her heart,” Secelia laughed and took a drink of her tea before continuing. “She gets some free tea out of it.”

Rouji nodded in understanding and silence took hold at the table, the two students finishing off the rest of their drinks.

Secelia couldn't fault Rouji for those initial perceptions of Miorine Rembran. If she was being honest, her impression of the Rembran heir for the majority of her first year at Asticassia had been more negative than his.

Frankly, Secelia had thought Miorine was a bitch, and had said as much to her face at least once.

And to be fair, it wasn't too hard to think that if you weren't really interacting with her. She was cold to the point of rudeness to most people and the favorable treatment she constantly received was infuriating. Secelia had only realized what Miorine was actually like after several months in the Dueling Committee.

“Don't worry about Miorine. She's a lot less… icy when the Grassleys and Jeturks aren't around. Though… I wonder how that new Holder will change her,” the corners of the white-haired girl’s mouth turned upwards in a curious smile.

“Oh, ok, I see,” Secelia’s companion nodded as he spoke.

But something had changed during the time that sentence had consumed. The air had gotten cold and the sky dark, like a storm cloud had blown across the sky.

Secelia looked up and saw nothing.

Asticassia’s sky of display panels was just a black void, swirling and turbulent.

She looked down and the tiny metal table and chairs were gone.

Before she could return her anxious gaze forward, a voice rang in her eyes. It came from in front of her, yet also echoed from either side.

“So are you the only one who changes so drastically?”

The voice Secelia heard was a crude replica of her former partner’s. It was distorted, twisted by bitter mockery and barely disguised anger.

“Who changes so… violently?”

She shut her eyes, still staring at the churning void that was now below her in a vain attempt to block out the specter before her.

“You've certainly gotten good at that, I have to say. Five more kills on your tally this week, freedom fighter . Are you at triple digits yet? Certainly feels that way.”

The voice was gloating, dripping with glee as it ripped into Secelia with pinpoint cruelty. Her mind pulled the images of her fight with the pirates back to the surface and she watched herself rip through each mobile suit cockpit again and again.

“S-shut up…shut up! Get out! Leave!” Secelia's voice bent and shuddered as she covered her ears and tried to shrink further and further away from her tormentor.

“Oh no, that won't work this time, Sece~.”

The voice, toxically familiar yet painfully foreign, sounded like it was in her ear now, her feeble attempts at shutting it out completely subverted.

“I'm not leaving you ever again. Even as you kill more and more. This bloodsoaked path is ours now.”

Secelia felt tiny and raw, as if she were caught on the side of a mountain in a storm. The voice was ceaseless, a cruel manifestation of everything beneath her skin. She couldn't fight it and she couldn't run from it either.

Instead, she shrank further and further into herself, sobbing quietly as she fell towards the void.

5:41 a.m. local time, March 18th, AD 126

Hraesvelgr Command Front, Lagrange 2

The blackness in front of Secelia suddenly became lighter and she became aware of the sensation of wet fabric against her skin.

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

There was no Asticassia in front of her, nor was there an angry, tumultuous void around her. Instead she saw the soft darkness of space dotted with pinpricks of light.

Secelia sat up, and felt warm blankets respond to her movements. The room around her was dimly lit, but still she recognized it as hers. Her work “uniform” was tossed in the vicinity of a desk chair, accompanied by a couple pieces of clothing Secelia knew weren’t hers.

It wasn’t really a uniform, she thought as she continued staring in its general direction. It was just a pair of white and black shorts matched with white thigh-highs and a bog-standard t-shirt emblazoned with the Hraesvelgr crest. Secelia didn’t focus much on that part of it, as she usually covered it with a dull silver-colored pilot’s jacket that was accented with violet trim.

She had gotten a typical workwear outfit, a cobalt-blue suit and skirt combo with brown leggings, and it never failed to make her feel good about herself. But Lilique had said one day that a squad of mobile suit pilots needed matching jackets as casualwear, and then Aliya had gone and actually made them. As corny as Secelia thought it was, she couldn’t deny the quality of the jacket or how comfortable it was to wear.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle movement next to her. A large lump, buried under the covers, turned onto its side and began snoring softly.

Secelia gazed blankly at whatever was next to her in bed, trying to figure out what she had done last night. A messy tuft of greenish-blonde hair emerged from the blankets as the unidentified mass moved again, and the memories started to come into focus.

The Jotunheimr had docked back at Hraesvelgr’s main front after 9 PM on what was now yesterday, but it had taken an extra two hours to unload from the journey and begin the data upload to the group’s servers.

Suletta didn’t get to spend much time helping the rest of the crew, as Miorine Rembran quickly made her way to the hangar and took her wife back to their quarters. Norea and Five followed shortly after, and even Sabina and Nika snuck away once the more technical aspects of the process were finished. That left Secelia and a random assortment of hangar staff (who spent more time ogling her than working, she remembered with disgust) to finish off the remaining tasks.

When she finally docked the Shrike and left the main port, it was nearly midnight, yet she was too wired to relax. She was anxious to finally be off the ship, angry at the work she had to do to make up for everyone else leaving, and jealous of the rest of the crew pairing off (not to mention a little lonely, too).

The answer to this roiling mess of emotions presented itself in the form of someone Secelia both wanted and didn’t want to see.

“Well, well, the Songbird returns from her long journey! And she put so much effort in after docking too! I’m glad our pilots are so dedicated,” a voice from across the way had called, levering himself off a bench and walking over as he spoke.

“Shut up, Elan,” Secelia had shot back, rubbing a hand on her temple.

Elan Ceres. The real one, not one of the two clones she’d known at Asticassia. He was essentially her boss as well. He was co-CEO with Miorine and Naji, and the weirdness of having three people who have the same legal name and face in the same company was not lost on any of them.

Secelia was also well-aware of the irony of having working relationships with all of them. It did help that the three acted and dressed differently. Four was the one that didn’t ever really trip her up, partially because they lacked a physical body, but also because they were still so reserved.

Dealing with Five was a different beast compared to dealing with Elan, however. They made the same stupid jokes, found the same joy in annoying as many people as possible, and even carried themselves in the same way. But where Five was motivated only by what Norea wanted, and had a tendency to slack off, Elan was passionate about Hraesvelgr and always committed to whatever he was doing.

The thing that baffled Secelia the most, and this was really just a mental thing, was that Elan didn’t get on her nerves like Five did. Early on, she’d often wondered how Norea put up with her partner, but as Elan became a recurring figure in her personal life, Secelia started to feel a strange kinship of sorts with the blue-haired woman.

That was why, instead of blowing off the obnoxious man and going back to her quarters, Secelia had decided to take him up on his offer of a free drink at a local bar.

It had some long name that started with a “B,” but really all that mattered was that it had been the only one still open at that time of night. The live music had made a good backdrop for Secelia to gripe about the long and mostly uninteresting mission over, and one free drink quickly became several.

Secelia shook her head, trying to reform the fuzzy memories. She couldn’t remember what they’d talked about, but the last clear memory was last call, as Elan had dared her to get a shot of some especially strong whiskey. She made him do one too and they both stumbled out of the bar with the aftertaste still strong in their throats.

Secelia’s brain only had snapshots of the rest of the night. Her leaning on Elan as they both headed for her apartment. A warm shower for two that didn’t do much to chase away the alcohol. Her clothes haphazardly thrown to the side, and them soon being joined by his. The feeling of his flesh against hers, her lips on his, and then her coming undone beneath him.

She felt a heat spread through her body as she pulled herself from the past. Even through the burgeoning hangover, the emotions were incredibly vivid. Secelia turned away from the sleeping Elan, slid out of bed and walked slowly to the window. She stretched her arms and massaged her shoulders, thankful that the only witness to her current state was the void of space.

Secelia leaned against the window, the feeling of cold glass on her bare shoulder grounding her in the present.

Sleeping with Elan wasn’t unfamiliar to her, in fact nothing from the night before was. He'd come on to her shortly after she'd joined Hraesvelgr, and she hadn't minded it. Even if Elan could be annoying and frustrating, he had this earnest, kind charm to him that Secelia found herself attracted to.

She'd made it clear that it was purely physical and he'd agreed to that, though not without obvious disappointment. But some small part of Secelia kept wanting to go back on that, to open herself up emotionally and find something to fill the hole in her heart.

She couldn't, though. In some cruel twist of fate, every fruitless search and horrible nightmare just entrenched the thoughts of what she’d had with Rouji further and further in her memory.

So instead Secelia let these drunken, lust-filled nights with Elan Ceres serve as her emotional outlet. It was needlessly abusive to both of them, but she couldn't break it off, and Elan wasn't going to suggest it either.

Secelia sighed, her head only slightly clearer than it was when she had woken up. She was in the process of turning around to try and get a little more sleep when she found herself wrapped in a gentle embrace.

“It’s bad for your skin to get so little sleep, you know.”

Secelia rolled her eyes but relaxed slightly in Elan’s arms.

“It’s your face that has to be on TV, not mine, so you should probably take your own advice,” she quipped back, not turning away from the window.

“I was just concerned about my pilot readjusting after a long mission. If she’s not getting enough sleep, that becomes something for me to be concerned with, you know?” Elan slowly turned the two of them away from the window as he spoke. “And there’s the ever-important debrief meeting in the morning, so we can’t have you oversleep.”

Secelia’s brain couldn’t even pause to process the feelings that surfaced because of the words “my pilot”. She let Elan steer them to the bed, the dread of a meeting bringing all her fatigue back.

“Shit… what time is that at again?”

“9:30 exactly. So we can get maybe another three hours of sleep if we fall asleep quickly,” Elan smiled as he pulled the comforter over both of them.

Secelia’s only response was a pained grunt that was partially stifled by the blanket. She stretched her limbs a bit and then situated herself near Elan’s chest. She felt him preparing to say something, but after a few seconds he relaxed and let an arm rest across Secelia’s upper body. In a handful of minutes, he had relaxed into sleep, and she followed shortly behind, trying not to think about the short amount of time she’d actually be asleep for.

—----

Rouji could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the Gyrfalcon crouched behind a large outcropping. The mechanisms involved in the mobile suit’s active camo filled the cockpit with a constant hum, but it was the only sound from outside of his body.

He couldn’t see Quiet Zero anymore. He had physically felt the sphere of influence weaken, though only slightly, as he rocketed further and further away from it; like the discomfort crawling below his skin had been physically extracted.

Rouji turned his attention back to the Gyrfalcon’s monitor display and watched as two small red dots pinged on the screen. They got further away with each subsequent ping, eventually dropping off the radar entirely.

He sighed, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The two mobile suits had likely been a random colony protection patrol or some backwater rogues, but at this point Rouji wasn’t in the mood to take chances.

It had been about a day since he’d fled from Burion Company, but it felt about three times as long. He hadn’t slept since, the feeling of resting for even an hour within the Permet sphere of that structure spiking his nerves. So instead he flew, the computers of the Gyrfalcon his only companion. The mobile suit’s camouflaging systems seemed even better than the Aplomado’s, helping Rouji avoid the various mobile suit patrols tasked by any number of companies or private militaries with monitoring the thoroughly uninteresting area.

With the possible threat past, Rouji slowly kicked the thrusters back on and took off from the small asteroid, eyeing the power gauges as he kept the active camo up. Even with the immense upgrades that the Gyrfalcon boasted, this flight was pushing the upper limits of the suit’s endurance. He needed to find somewhere to resupply.

And somewhere to sleep , Rouji thought, the fatigue shouting over the adrenaline in his veins. A third feeling had finally entered the mix, however: Relief.

He’d actually done it. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t connected to Burion. The Gyrfalcon may have Burion codes, but it was his, and with it, the future was clearer.

Or so he tried to convince himself. But every time Rouji looked backwards, the people he’d left behind occupied his thoughts. As much as he tried to justify his actions to his brain, he couldn’t chase away her words. Every criticism, every doubt, they all wore her voice.

You ran away, Rouji.

You didn’t confront anything, you just left it.

You ran from us. One spot of trouble, and you ran.

You ran.

You ran.

You ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran you ran

 8:23 a.m. local time, March 18th, AD 126

Langlands Corporation Circus Front

Rouji Chante shot awake in his bed, danger impulses flying through his nervous system. His breath came in ragged gasps and he felt the sweat drenching his whole body. Panicked, his eyes shot across every corner of the dark room and his hand reached to the side of the bed, grasping for anything there.

Instead, Rouji came up empty, giving his mind the time to begin to process his surroundings.

It was a quiet, darkened room. Not his, it was furnished more extravagantly than he’d ever wanted for any place he called his own, and a lot of the accessories were decidedly feminine in function, style, or both. But it wasn’t unfamiliar, and a glimpse of messy blonde hair spread haphazardly across the sheets next to him eased his anxious fear a bit.

Observe, analyze, react, Rouji repeated silently, an old mnemonic from his early piloting days that he’d found new use for on nights like this.

A glance at a digital clock nearby told him it was mid-morning, a normal waking time if not for a night of alcohol-assisted socializing. The drawn curtains explained the darkness, and the heap of clothing by the door, along with the nearly-naked woman next to him, connected the dots that remained from the previous night.

With a heavy sigh, Rouji pulled the blankets up a little bit and turned towards his sleeping partner.

Yushura Mirzakhani… She doesn’t really sleep like the heiress of such an important front, he smiled to himself as she turned in the bed. Her long, blonde hair, not done up in her typical ponytail, was the only thing covering her upper body, and it wasn’t doing a particularly good job at it.

The sight of someone he cared for, half-naked and sleeping peacefully beside him on a quiet morning, should have been one of those reminders of how beautiful life can be. Instead, the longer Rouji looked at Yushura, the more muddled his head became. It was painfully similar to too many mornings in the past, an imitation of when times were simpler and things were happier.

An imitation of…

That was what everything with Yushura felt like. For two years Rouji had tried to leave the past in the past and actually start over, and for two years it kept creeping back in.

It had been worse, back when it was just him and the Gyrfalcon, but now instead of being raw, heavy memories, it was subtle, sinister reminders of what he’d left behind. They stole the joy in small moments and interrupted the rare mental clarity that made nights like last night possible.

Rouji sighed deeply again, trying to pull himself out of his own head, and gently slid out of bed. It was too tempting to try and go back to sleep and then spend the remnants of the day with only the sounds of the hangar in his ears. But he’d done that too often lately, and the nightmare kept nagging at him. He needed to try and break out of the patterns he’d set himself into.

So Rouji stretched his back and made his way to the shower, taking care to not wake Yushura. He let the water get hot before stepping under the spray, the warmth relaxing his muscles and his mind. As he began to wash his hair and body, the sounds of Yushura awakening drifted through the door. She yawned incredibly loudly before hopping off the bed with an audible thud and making her way to the bathroom.

When she opened the door, Rouji made a strange, half-hearted attempt at covering himself despite being behind an opaque pane of glass.

“Good morning, Rouji!” Yushura exclaimed cheerfully as a toothbrush clattered against the side of a ceramic container. She wasn’t looking in his direction, and he quickly realized how ridiculous his modesty was, so he dropped his hands and continued washing himself.

“Morning, Yushura, did you sleep well?”

“Well enough, but my head still kinda hurts, which means that one less shot of whisky was probably the right amount,” she giggled, a sweet, pure sound whose echo was dampened by moisture. “How about you? Considering that you’re up this early, I’m guessing the answer is either poorly or very well.”

Rouji laughed stiffly, the golden-haired woman’s read of him cutting into his chest. The still frames of his nightmare flashed around his head, and so he lied rather than trying to unpack that with her.

“I wouldn’t say ‘very well’ but it wasn’t a bad night of sleep, all things considered. I wanted to enjoy my day rather than staying in the hangar all day, so I figured that required an earlier start.”

Yushura giggled again as she ran the faucet for a brief second.

“After 8:30 in the morning isn’t really an early start for most people, you know,” she teased, causing Rouji to flush with embarrassment.

She was right, but that didn’t make the barb any less painful. It wasn’t really his fault that the only time it was quiet around here was late at night, after all. 

“If you were so concerned about it, you could ask me to come to bed instead of waiting for me to come back from the hangar, you know,” Rouji shot back, a hint of humor in his voice.

He could hear how flustered that comment had made Yushura, who spat into the sink and deposited her toothbrush back in its container.

“Or maybe I’ll just start going to sleep without you. Are you almost done in there? I need to shower now,” she finished with a hmph.

Rouji shut the water off, grabbed a towel, and ceded the bathroom to Yushura, giving her a genuine smile as he walked out. He dressed quickly, thoughts now past the earlier nightmare, and began to wonder what there was to do around the front.

Well, besides the obvious namesake of it. There were always games and entertainment around the entertainment district, but maybe there was something outside of it that Rouji had missed. He'd spent so much time in the hangar that all he really knew were the few bars that Till and Yushura liked to go to after things had calmed down for the day.

The golden-haired girl re-entered the room, a towel wrapped around her body, and moved to her dresser.

“What did you want to do today, exactly?” Yushura asked as she pulled on a pair of black leggings, back turned to Rouji, who was staring into the space beside her.

“Honestly, I don’t know. What is there in the day, usually?” Rouji responded, trying his best to keep his gaze away from Yushura’s exposed back. He still felt a certain guilt in the intimacy with her, like he was a stranger in a place he didn’t belong.

“Hmm… well, there’s always a few places that do entertainment during lunchtime, otherwise there’s the fifty thousand theme restaurants that have popped up,” Yushura laughed, throwing her arms in the air to accentuate the exaggerated number.

“I… think I’ll pass on those,” Rouji smiled as his partner stepped into the bathroom to fix her hair. “A simple lunch is fine with me, then we can figure out what to do next.”

The blonde-haired woman stepped out of the bathroom, her hair now done up in her typical front-draped ponytail, and sat next to Rouji on the bed.

“Till’s busy today, so it’ll just be the two of us,” Yushura said, a small, teasing smile forming. “It’s his loss, there’s this place I’ve been meaning to go that I’m told has some of the best pies in the front.

The blue-haired man just smiled and made a mental note to bring some leftovers back for the quiet, ash-haired mechanic.

10:15 a.m. local time, March 18th, AD 126

Hraesvelgr Command Front, Lagrange 2

Secelia sighed, tapping her fingertips together as she leaned back in her chair.

Miorine and Elan were explaining some particularly dry aspect of Hraesvelgr’s business operations and what they had been doing during the Jotunheimr’s 3-month journey through the terrestrial part of the system.

From what the silver-haired girl was absorbing, which was not a lot, production had continued smoothly on Peil mobile suits as well as the start of Jeturk mobile suits in smaller capacities. On the business side of things, Miorine was talking about more investors and more neutral companies coming around to Hraesvelgr’s cause, just like the last two meetings.

The truth was that they were in a stalemate with the Benerit Group. Everyone in the room knew it, and it had been the case for the better part of the last 6 months. The conflict had started with several small skirmishes, but once the Benerit Group had learned more of Hraesvelgr’s strength (coupled with the loss of some of their own strength), they had scaled back wide-scale movements.

Secelia knew that they were still working behind the scenes, especially the Valkyries, in some sort of effort to amass the scattered resources of the outer planets in one area, but with no outward acts of aggression, Hraesvelgr had their hands tied in order to keep public opinion favorable towards them. 

With the Group mostly withdrawing to the areas beyond Quiet Zero, every bit of good that Hraesvelgr did, every fraction that the lives of those in the Earth sphere improved, meant an extra voice of support when they were finally able to start chipping away at the Benerit Group’s standing. But they were still missing that final piece, that leverage to break the tide of the conflict and justify more aggressive action.

That had been part of the Jotunheinr’s mission. The likelihood of provoking a large conflict was slim, as Secelia knew most of the pirate activity was either organic or funded by Benerit businesses through untraceable, unprovable channels, but Miorine was convinced that there was something hidden in the system that would help them.

“Sarius Zenelli is the key,” she had said before they left. “Find him, and you find the thread that unravels Shaddiq.”

She wasn't wrong, Secelia had witnessed firsthand Shaddiq's ambitions, and they far outstripped Mr. Burion’s and even Prospera’s, but she knew it went beyond what Miorine was aware of. Shaddiq had changed since the duel with Suletta, there was a cruelty and a coldness to his actions, and Henao at his side only made him more dangerous.

With this mission coming up empty, it meant that there were only two options: he was covering his tracks well, or he was gathering resources for a checkmate move. Secelia liked neither, especially if the whispers of the Group pooling their mobile suit development resources were true.

“Well, with all of that out of the way, Suletta, would you like to brief us on the mission?” Miorine gestured towards her wife, transitioning out of a topic that Secelia had tuned out entirely.

“Mhm, thank you, Ms. Miorine,” Suletta smiled and stood at the front of the table, pulling up her report on the screen behind her. “The Yggdrasil-class capital ship, Jotunheimr, departed Hraesvelgr on January 15th with the Gundam Arnarhamr, piloted by Suletta Mercury and Four, the Gundam Lfrith Ur, piloted by Sabina Fardin and Sophie Pulone, and the Shrike, piloted by Secelia Dote, as its main force, with supplementary forces of seven Zoworts and five Zowort Heavys.”

“In addition to its fighting force, the Jotunheimr had Norea Du Noc and Five as battle operations and support staff, as well as eight mechanics, led by Hraesvelgr head mechanic Nika Nanaura,” Suletta listed off the names of every crew member, though Norea, Sabina, and Five were absent. “The goal of the mission was to ensure proper maintenance of commerce channels around the terrestrial planets, while also performing scans of the surrounding areas for Benerit Group activity.”

‘And for other activity,’ Secelia thought with a grimace, her eyes focusing on the table in front of her. Her constant excursions for any sign of her old partner had been by far the least successful part of the mission, and they’d found almost no signs of Benerit Group movements. Suletta had managed to convince Secelia to let her help in whatever way she could, but even that hadn’t turned up anything.

She just… didn’t know where he could have gone. He’d left in the middle of the night nearly four years ago and hadn’t been seen since, even as the political climate morphed and twisted, partially as the result of his defection. The losses of Rouji, and then Secelia around two years later, had drastically weakened the Benerit Group; even as the work on new Gundams and improved bit mobile suits for Gundam Aerial attempted to compensate. Her addition to Hraesvelgr had begun to swing the balance further away from Benerit, and she knew Rouji might be the piece to push them past the stalemate.

But Secelia didn’t know if that’s what she wanted for him, truthfully. He had disappeared for a reason, and he hadn’t resurfaced for that exact same reason. What would he think of her dedication to this new cause? Sure, it was working counter to Benerit’s goals, but fundamentally, they were employing the same methods.

Secelia had been hesitant to mention her search to Suletta for this reason. If the rest of Hraesvelgr knew about the Gyrfalcon, the focus would just be about bringing Rouji in as a pilot, and she might lose him forever if that happened. Instead, she needed to find him first and talk to him, and finally address their last conversation properly. From there, Secelia was ready for whatever it led to.

Even if it meant leaving all of Hraesvelgr behind.

But she was getting ahead of herself at this point. Secelia needed to actually find and talk to him first, before making any decisions. She wanted more than anything to be able to explain herself and truly listen to Rouji this time, and to that end, she knew she had to keep searching.

Secelia sighed under her breath, blaming the thoughts on the interrupted sleep, and looked back up at the front of the room. Suletta had finished explaining the general results of the area scans and had handed it off to Nika for the technical aspects of their mission.

“Thank you, Suletta,” Nika nodded as the redhead sat down. “As part of the assigned objectives, the Jotunheimr’s teams of mobile suits engaged with multiple independent pirate groups around the terrestrial planets, mainly between Earth and Mars.”

The head mechanic tapped on the tablet in her hands and a map displaying the locations of reported battles appeared on the monitor behind her.

“The major zone of conflict was the area surrounding Mars. The Jotunheimr spent 24 days of its journey in this general area,” Nika explained, and the map zoomed in on the concentration of battle indicators. “On the Jupiter side of the planet, the Arnarhamr, Lfrith Ur, and Shrike, referred to as Team 1, encountered nine groups throughout that time period.”

Three of the red marks turned blue as Nika tapped again.

“In three of these skirmishes, successful recoveries of enemy mobile suit computers were accomplished. This one,” Nika pointed at a mark in a position Secelia recognized. “Was the commander of a squad of five. Combat reports list them as one Dilanza Sol, two Demi Garrisons, one Heindree, and the command unit, a Zowort Heavy. Secelia Dote, who fought them alone, noted the pilot of the recovered unit as being exceptionally skilled, possibly a veteran mercenary or PMC member.”

Secelia looked back at the table in front of her bashfully, the soft congratulations for her prowess bringing an embarrassed shade of red to her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a grimace from Elan, clearly unhappy with Peil tech ending up in those hands. Nika continued, oblivious to it.

“A post-combat analysis of the recorded unit numbers showed that the Heindree and Dilanza Sol were registered as wanted in various fronts around Mars. However, the two Demi Garrisons, as well as the Zowort Heavy, were not found in any known databases,” Nika’s expression changed for the first time since starting her report, uncertainty filling out her facial features. A trio of photographs from the Shrike's main camera appeared behind her.

“Running an image search through security cameras in the system, I was able to match these three units to multiple stills from locations around the Jovian planets,” Nika pursed her lips and brought up a grid of photos showing the three mobile suits in a multitude of environments. “Each photo is from a different area, but the visual identifiers, like the scratched logos and unique weapons, all match.”

“But how can that make sense?” Olcott spoke up for the first time. He was one of two Dawn of Fold representatives at the meeting, the equally-silent Guel Rollo being the other. “If they've been sighted around those planets, they must be affiliated with someone.”

“I wish I knew,” Nika lamented, leaving the images on screen as she sat back down. “But even the damaged data logs of the Zowort were able to confirm its presence there, mostly around Jupiter. The finer details of the logs are still being worked on, however. The mobile suit’s computers were heavily damaged, beyond even what the Shrike could inflict, meaning there was an effort to conceal whatever was contained on it.”

Secelia felt the comment, unintentional as it was, jab into her, the grotesque memories of her dream leaking back to the surface like blood under a scab. She didn't want this reputation that seemed to be developing around her, but there was no way she could half-ass combat to try and counteract it. The Shrike, as cutting edge as it was, could only ever be a total assault mobile suit when it was alone.

With the Jotunheimr debrief over, Miorine stood back up and clapped her hands together.

“You'll let us know when you've reconstructed those, right?” Hraesvelgr’s CEO asked as everyone else in the room began to couple up and discuss the day's plans.

“ If we can,” Nika replied, emphasizing the possibility that it could be impossible. “If there is a connection between the pirates and the Benerit Group, I wouldn't expect it to be substantial, either.”

Miorine nodded in understanding and moved to her wife's side, immediately wrapping an arm around the tall Mercurian. With a deep sigh, Secelia turned around, only to find herself face-to-face with Elan Ceres.

“That wasn't too bad, all things considered,” the Peil CEO grinned. Secelia rolled her eyes, but followed next to him as he headed towards the door.

“Would've preferred not waking up at 8 in the morning to do it, but I guess so,” the silver-haired woman yawned for effect. “I've still got a headache from last night, though.”

“Well, then I guess coffee and lunch are on me, then,” Elan smiled again as the pair stepped into the hallway. “A great little place moved into the front while you were away, and they've got-”

“Uh, you should probably all get back in here.”

Guel’s voice, coming from inside the conference room, was just barely audible over the various conversations. Miorine responded first, still inside the room with Suletta right behind her.

“That son of a bitch…”

Everyone else filed back into the room, and Guel read off the article from his phone.

“Body of former Grassley Defense Systems CEO Sarius Zenelli recovered, Benerit blames Hraesvelgr.”

The assembled members stood there in stunned silence, the headline sinking in gradually. With no interruptions, Guel continued skimming the body of the story.

“Body found in a small front in the outer orbit of Jupiter… Benerit Group alleges Hraesvelgr involvement and points to alleged links with a former Dawn of Fold terrorist… oh, damnit.”

The short-haired man tapped a few buttons and the article was quickly up on the screen. Embedded in the article was a photo, taken from several meters away, that showed Norea and Suletta in some city market on Mars. The article, citing information from the Benerit Group, made mention of the green and red bracelet seen on Norea's wrist and linked it to one the Benerit Group found in Sarius’ hand when he was found.

They claimed that it was the same kind found with one of the pilots involved in the attack on Asticassia four years ago, and claimed that Hraesvelgr was connected with Sarius’ death. The article ended with a quote from Shaddiq Zenelli, vowing a swift and harsh response to the act, as well as a full investigation.

Everybody in the conference room stared at one another for several seconds, the magnitude of what the Benerit Group had just done sinking in.

Miorine spoke up first, taking control of the situation with her tone and trying to restore a sense of order to the shocked members.

“We’ll need to get Norea in here as soon as possible. That bastard Shaddiq had to keep his moves close to the chest, but we can try and get something together.”

“Wait… you don’t think she actually did it, do you?” Nika asked hesitantly, and Secelia could feel the possibility introducing itself to everyone’s mind, even if it was totally outlandish.

“No, of course not,” the Hraesvelgr co-CEO responded with a heavy sigh. “But we do need to talk to her and try to figure everything out. I trust that one of you would tell me if Norea had gone off on her own during this mission though, right?”

Everyone from the Jotunheimr nodded at once, leaving room for Elan Ceres to chime in.

“You do know that no matter what we do, Shaddiq and the rest of the Group have the advantage, since they have the body and can release whatever autopsy results they need to justify what’s next, right?”

“Obviously, but we can still do something,” Miorine countered. “Even if the truth won’t stop Shaddiq, it can convince the public that something’s wrong with what they’re being told.”

The Peil CEO just shrugged and leaned back in his chair while Miorine called Norea into the room.

Secelia just stared at the table in front of her as the rest of Hraesvelgr's leadership prepared for what was likely going to be a long night.

She felt the lack of sleep weighing her down, while the implications of Sarius Zenelli’s death played out in her head. Two things stuck out even through the fog in her mind.

One: She was going to get a lot more time in the Shrike, and

Two: She really hoped Rouji was somewhere safe.

11 a.m. local time, March 18th, AD 126

Langlands Corporation Circus Front

Rouji clinked his glass against Yushura's before lifting it to his mouth. The amber liquid poured down his throat, a tinge of bitterness following closely behind.

He wasn't typically a beer drinker. The aftertaste always hit him stronger than he cared for, and he hated how he felt when he drank too much of it, but today was a special occasion. Yushura was treating him, and Rouji felt like he deserved to relax a little after the morning, even if alcohol was a culprit behind the previous mental distress.

Rouji set his glass down and looked around while Yushura checked something on her phone. Even on a “day off”, the duties of a chief technical officer never truly stopped, it seemed.

The restaurant wasn’t what he’d been expecting. The design incorporated various types and styles of wood, forming a decidedly American West experience from the first step inside. A long bar with sturdy, dark-colored bar stools, wooden tables and chairs placed semi-randomly across the floor, and various metal signs emblazoned with old company logos on them.

The menu matched the aesthetic perfectly, with barbecued meats, fried vegetables, hamburgers, and a selection of beers on tap complimenting a standalone sheet of dessert options that included several of the pies Yushura had raved about as they'd walked over.

Rouji had ordered a half-rack of ribs with fries and coleslaw while Yushura had opted for grilled chicken with a salad and a piece of cornbread. He'd followed her lead on the beer, a somewhat hoppy brew with slight tasting notes he couldn't quite figure out.

Their conversations so far had been brief, with Yushura’s phone taking her attention away every few minutes. Rouji didn’t mind now, having grown accustomed to the demands of her role after a few meals with the blonde woman. Instead, he filled the time with an old Western movie being played on one of the restaurant’s TVs. Even having started at some point in the middle, Rouji could tell it was a good one, and he recognized one of the actors as Clint Eastwood, but the name of the movie escaped him.

Yushura had put her phone down and was looking at the same screen as Rouji. Compared to his half-interested drinking and watching, she was entranced, her beer barely touched.

It was a cute quality he’d noticed about her. She was fascinated with old Earthian things, from entertainment to architecture to history, and would sometimes spend hours locked in her office delving down some rabbit hole she’d stumbled upon. It was interesting to observe in a public setting, with Yushura’s eyes pouring over every frame while also taking in the subtitled dialogue, completely oblivious to the admittedly small lunchtime crowd.

Every time it happened, Rouji was reminded of the strikingly similar way that Secelia would study battle videos, a thought that he didn’t particularly want in his head. The two women were startlingly alike, as he’d come to find out, and would probably get along very well, a thought that was abjectly terrifying to his mind.

He took another swig from his glass to chase the mental scenario away, just as the waitress arrived with their food. This finally broke Yushura’s concentration, and she took a long drink from her glass as the plates were laid out in front of them. The two of them thanked the waitress and dug into their lunches.

“So, it’s pretty good, right?” Yushura asked with a smile before spearing a forkful of salad.

“Yea, this was a good find. Their barbeque is really tender, and the sauce pairs well with it,” Rouji commented as he demonstrated the fall-off-the-bone nature of the ribs. “So, what’s been keeping you busy today?”

Yushura smiled sheepishly at the question, clearly a little embarrassed that work had taken up her attention on a lunch date, even if Rouji had lost count of how often it happened.

“Well… there’s some troublesome rumblings out of the Benerit Group, to be honest,” the Langlands CTO sighed before taking a bite of her chicken. “Yushetas and I are trying to keep up, especially since there’s no permanent fighting force stationed here.”

Rouji nodded, the mention of Benerit causing him to stiffen in his seat slightly.

“I mean, I am here, and there’s not many other places for me to go, so if it comes down to it…” he offered, feeling the shift in the conversation.

If even Langlands was worrying about a defensive force, something serious must be in the works. The Mirzakhanis had stayed neutral since before the Drone Wars, but even the facade of a circus and entertainment destination wasn’t enough to deter people from trying to sway the family’s massive amount of financial and political capital. Nobody had tried to use force to convince them yet, but Rouji knew if someone were going to, it would be this iteration of the Benerit Group.

“Thank you, Rouji, but… if any of what’s been discussed today is true, just you by yourself won’t cut it,” Yushura replied solemnly. She took a drink of her beer, the alcohol visibly relaxing her nerves. “There’s likely going to be a lot of offers for our cooperation soon. So… thank you for coming to lunch with me, I don’t know how often I’ll be able to do this in the future.”

“Like I said, if there’s anything I can help with, let me know. Even if it’s just keeping the Gyrfalcon maintained,” Rouji matched the solemn determination in his partner’s eyes, the sentence sounding like a vow.

After a few seconds, Yushura nodded in understanding and relaxed.

“Well, I think it’s time to start thinking about pie, don’t y-”

An alert on the restaurant’s TV screen and every person’s phone cut the blonde woman off.

“We have a breaking news update to a nearly four year old case,” The news anchor explained as the “Breaking News” screen transitioned into a camera shot of him at the news desk.

Every eye in the restaurant was glued to the screen, a sense of vague foreboding sinking into the room.

“According to the Benerit Group, the body of former Grassley Defense Systems CEO, Sarius Zenelli, was found in an abandoned front between Mars and Jupiter. Preliminary reports are that he had been locked in the front for some time and was shot to death recently.”

The sense of foreboding in the room was replaced with utter shock. The disappearance of Sarius Zenelli had faded into the background of public consciousness about a year after he’d gone missing. Shaddiq Zenelli had assumed the role so effortlessly, and had been utilizing Benerit resources to keep the search up, but nothing ever came up, so everyone forgot about it. To learn that he had been alive until recently was an icy shock, and Rouji could hear the whispers wondering who could’ve done such a thing.

“In a press conference just minutes ago, Grassley’s CEO, Shaddiq Zenelli, revealed early evidence that pointed towards the group responsible and vowed that they would be dealt with.”

The broadcast cut to a video of Shaddiq standing at a podium, two pictures displayed on a screen behind him.

“In the room where Sarius Zenelli was found, investigators recovered this bracelet,” Shaddiq gestured to a photo of a green and red string bracelet caught on a finger. “While examining surveillance footage from nearby fronts and planets, this photo from a market on Mars was found.”

The Grassley CEO stepped aside to reveal the other photo. It showed Suletta Mercury, the wife of Rembran CEO Miorine Rembran, alongside a blue-haired woman that Rouji instantly recognized as Norea Du Noc, one of the Earthian terrorists who had attacked the Rumble Ring.

“The wife of Rembran CEO and Hraesvelgr co-founder Miorine Rembran, Suletta Mercury, was seen with a known terrorist associate named Norea Du Noc. She and another woman, Sophie Pulone, carried out the terrorist attack on the Asticassia School of Technology nearly four years ago. We found a similar bracelet after that attack, and on her wrist in this photo, which leads us to believe that she is involved in both the kidnapping and murder of Sarius Zenelli and with the Hraesvelgr group as a whole.”

Shaddiq took a breath and stood back in front of the podium. He stared directly at the camera, anger flashing in his normally calm expression.

“The Benerit Group demands that Hraesvelgr release Norea Du Noc into our custody and provide investigators with every file related to her activities in the last six months, as well as distance themselves from all inquiries into the Benerit Group due to a clear conflict of interest. If these demands are refused, the Benerit Group will take any method available to achieve justice for this senseless murder.”

Rouji stared at his nearly-finished plate of food. His appetite had left him now. Yushura was in a similar state, her phone back in her hands, rapidly sending emails and messages to Langlands management.

He had known that Sarius was dead, it was the only real outcome after so long. But the revelation that Miorine’s watchdog group might have been behind it, and that one of the Asticassia terrorists was with them, was hard to accept. If she was there, though, it meant anything was possible. On the other hand, Rouji didn’t trust Shaddiq in the slightest, and this accusation could be a tool to remove his only counterbalance. He just didn’t know if the Grassley CEO was power-hungry enough to kill his own adoptive father.

At the end of that winding mental path, instead of answers, Rouji found a silver-haired woman; just as he always did.

Where was she at? Who had she sided with? How was she involved?

Was she safe?

Chapter Text

“That was the last I heard from Elnora directly. Once the Drone Wars truly got underway, I was pulled away to help Delling and Sarius develop new weaponry, and shortly after, she and Dr. Nabo publicly denounced the Benerit Group and the drone warfare that continued to escalate in spite of it.

I felt very alone during those years, truthfully. Delling, after playing soldier for a short time to appease his father, had seen massive successes in the drone program with new Grassley Defense Systems CEO Sarius Zenelli and was now working closer with the Rembran family’s business while also being promoted within Grassley. With one of my longtime friends having cut all contact and the other two now mingling with Benerit Group investors and political figures, I had to content myself with a personal lab and a small team of researchers.

As our research continued to lengthen the daily death reports, I only felt disdain for the whole Group. Undoubtedly, we helped turn the tide in the Drone Wars and revolutionized Permet technology and the efficiency of Permet links on a broad scale. They were necessary advancements for the world at large, but I soon began regretting the way we got there.

The feeling only grew, as it was my team that began seriously focusing on the idea of large, manned machines that could operate in space and in gravity, first as a way to distribute and control teams of drones across a wide area, and then as a true fighting force.

Through this work, I met Vim Jeturk, the CEO-to-be of Jeturk Heavy Machinery who had developed a working relationship with Delling and Sarius. He too was working on what he called “mobile suit” technology, and was interested in how Grassley had arrived at the idea themselves.

I became acquainted with him during an informational visit to Grassley R&D, a meeting that I found rather dreadful.

I know it’s rude to speak ill of the dead, but he was such a brash, dull, and frustrating man. Jeturk Heavy Machinery entered the race for mobile suits because they wanted to outfit a platform with as much weaponry and armor as possible, nothing further. Missile pods, rocket launchers, machine guns, shields, swords, you name it, they wanted it on a mobile suit. Shockingly, despite the primitive ideas backing them, their mechanics were top-class.

Schematics for the Desultor, as they called it, was nearly finished, while our idea didn’t even have a proper schematic yet, just a loose collection of ideas for arms and a body. After that meeting, everything started to take shape.

For my team, that is.

Personally, I fell into a rut. I was still alone, and every day I grappled with the realities of what I had helped bring into this world. The Drone Wars were closing, the Benerit Group’s overwhelming technological and military advantage too much for anyone on Earth to overcome. Add onto that Grassley’s newest innovation, the Antidote, that helped disable Earthian defenses en masse, and death tolls were near the hundreds of millions. Entire cities and space colonies had been leveled and destroyed, and anti-Spacian sentiment was festering across the Earth sphere.

I couldn’t blame them for their hatred, not when I, too, despised what the Benerit Group had done. I knew what was possible with Permet, but nobody else seemed to. Dr. Cardo Nabo’s company, the Vanadis Institute, had been making some legitimate strides, but they usually went unreported in favor of Benerit Group news. Elnora’s name was only ever mentioned in research papers, her efforts to use Permet as an enhancer for humanity very obvious.

Those papers, in the depths of my hatred and anger towards what I had helped build, brought those college-era ideas back with a renewed fervor. Permet-enhanced humans, free of the limitations of the flesh, thriving as a singular community that had bridged both Earth and space. Beyond that, true connectivity with both machines and our fellow man was possible, if we all tried.

But instead the march of military weaponry continued unabated, and I realized that Grassley would not be the place for these ideas.

As the mobile suit project, now dubbed “Heingra”, approached its completion, I left the company, buoyed by a goodwill departure bonus from Delling himself. For a few months, I sat and researched Dr. Nabo’s work, pulling Elnora’s old research as supplementary reading. As I did, the Jeturk and Grassley mobile suits were finished, and the war faded into small, regional conflicts.

It was those conflicts that gave me an idea. Money was my limiting factor in experimenting further with Permet, and there was suddenly a deficiency in the market. Grassley and Jeturk mobile suits were expensive, and were limited in these smaller conflicts. The obvious answer was mass-produced suits with easily swappable parts and weaponry, yet there was an unwillingness by both companies to dedicate the resources necessary.

It was from this need that the Burion Company was created.”

Mr. Burion set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. He scanned his work, appraising the recap of his own life with a tired eye.

Behind him, footsteps crossed to one side of the room, stopped, and crossed back. A few clinks of something metal against something ceramic intruded on his review session, soon replaced by more footsteps.

“The tea is ready, Mr. Burion.”

The reserved, hesitant voice of a young woman came from behind his left shoulder, and the black-haired CEO slowly turned to see its owner.

“Thank you, Ms. Costa, it smells delicious,” he smiled, the wrinkles on his face accentuating his aura of friendliness. “Though you needn’t make extra work for yourself on my behalf.”

The golden-blonde woman looked down nervously, the hand holding the tray shaking slightly.

“I was making some for myself, but I didn't need a whole pot, so…”

Mr. Burion waved away the woman's concerns and gestured for her to sit in a nearby chair.

She looked at the remaining cup on the tray hesitantly, like she was contemplating escaping the room and the situation as a whole.

Eventually, she sat down, nervously sipping from her cup. Mr. Burion absentmindedly rubbed his chin as he watched her timid, reserved actions.

He was… confused by the woman, to put it mildly. As a graduate of Grassley’s piloting program, Renee Costa wasn't unfamiliar to him, but in the entire time since Shaddiq had brought her and the other three pilots to Quiet Zero, she'd never once seemed like the kind of person the Burion House students had described her as.

She lacked any semblance of self-confidence in her actions, rarely showed any kind of positive emotion, and anytime she was tasked with doing something, she seemed to be doing her best to fade out of recognition entirely.

Even more worrying were the array of violet bruises that would occasionally peek out from beneath the baggy clothes she wore when her pilot suit wasn’t appropriate. Her constant appearances at Quiet Zero when Shaddiq, Henao, Ireesha, and Maisie were at Grassley’s front hadn’t made a lot of sense until he noticed those for the first time.

It had become easier to find things for Renee to do around Quiet Zero, and eventually the Burion front, after that. With Secelia, Rouji, and both the mobile suits gone (something he was still incensed about), having a capable pilot around was helpful, even if she was withdrawn socially.

The CEO felt his thoughts mire themselves in the past as he thought about his former pilots. He should be bitter or even angry that Secelia and Rouji had not only left, but had also stolen Burion Company’s top of the line mobile suits, but he just… couldn’t be. 

Truthfully, Rouji’s desertion didn’t actually surprise him. Whenever he’d spoken with him, he had never seemed much for combat, and the fact that the Gyrfalcon had yet to reappear only backed up that assumption.

The timing of his departure wasn’t shocking either. The death of Lauda Neill at Secelia’s hands had shook the young man greatly. Mr. Burion didn’t really like that the answer Rouji found to the inevitabilities of combat was running away, but if his will wasn’t up to that task, he would never have stuck around anyway.

Secelia, on the other hand…

Mr. Burion had never gotten an answer as to what had happened between her and Rouji that night, but it must have been enough to keep her from immediately leaving to look for him. Sure, she had taken up some extra patrols in what he suspected was a way of searching for her partner, but she had always come back.

Until the day she didn’t. Mr. Burion still didn’t know what had set Secelia off, except that she had been selected by Shaddiq to sortie with Henao. After returning, she packed some of her things and took the Shrike to Hraesvelgr. Nobody ever talked about that mission after the fact, leaving him totally in the dark.

Again, Mr. Burion should’ve been upset, especially because he was immediately accused of being a double agent. But instead he could only sigh and accept it, because he could feel himself growing less and less attached to the organization he was leading.

He had been able to spin one positive for Shaddiq and Prospera, however. Secelia had gathered enough combat data to smoothen out the issues with mass-production of the Demi Barding. They had assured Mr. Burion that with that, mass-production of Grassley’s new Beguir Ira, and finishing touches on two mobile suits he was keeping totally under wraps, strikes against Hraesvelgr would be possible and the loss of the Shrike and Gyrfalcon would be negligible, as long as the announcement of Sarius’ death proceeded as planned.

As close as Mr. Burion had once been with Sarius, he hadn’t felt much of anything when Shaddiq told him of the man’s death. Did he believe anything else of what the Grassley CEO had said about how it happened? No, but it didn’t matter, as long as Shaddiq continued to effectively manage the military side of things.

The blonde man’s excellence in that role, however, meant that as of late, Mr. Burion had been stuck with all the meetings with the heads of various Earthian and Spacian companies about whatever banal issues they were worried about. It’s not that he craved ordering troops and planning missions, but damn if he needed some kind of variety in his routine.

It was during ruts like these that he missed his old lab at Grassley. As horrid as his research back then was, it was never dull. No bureaucrats, no budget reports, just his equipment and the endless possibilities in front of him.

It had taken years for him to discover the sort of goal that actually ignited his curiosity, and the cruel irony of it coming at a time when he couldn’t have been busier was not lost on him. It had been months since the last time Mr. Burion had actually been able to focus on his research, and he’d come up with oh so many new ideas to test out.

“Mr. Burion…?”

The voice of Renee Costa, probing but still timid, broke his train of thought. The ex-Valkyrie was standing in front of his chair, the pot of tea in her hand.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” the CEO apologized, looking down to find his cup empty, though he didn’t remember really drinking much of it. He held it up and Renee wordlessly began to refill it.

“Thank you again, Ms. Costa. It’s really quite good,” Mr. Burion smiled once she’d taken her seat. He was about to lapse back into reminiscing when the woman spoke up again.

“Mr. Burion, if I can ask… why did you decide to work with Shaddiq?” Renee asked, the fingers of her free hand nervously tapping on the arm of her chair.

Mr. Burion gave her a soft smile to both reassure her and settle the pit forming in his gut. It was the first time she’d mentioned his name since she’d begun working with him, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

The abuse from Henao Jazz may have stopped, if only because she was barely away from Shaddiq nowadays, but the aftermath was far from sorted out. Mr. Burion couldn’t help but think that the golden-blonde pilot was testing him somehow, trying to gauge if he was safe enough to actually open up to.

At the very least, Renee didn’t think of him as a threat, or she never would’ve stayed long enough to have this conversation.

“Ah, now that’s… a somewhat complicated thing to answer. Namely because of how much has changed since then,” he sighed and set his cup and saucer on an end table. “You should remember the first time I met Shaddiq, after the Burion and Jeturk duel. I wasn’t lying then, he was the best way to get to the position I desired.”

Mr. Burion’s expression darkened as he thought about what had happened since the election. He knew he had a way to get Renee to trust him more though, a bond formed by Shaddiq’s two-faced nature.

“But I made a mistake. I greatly underestimated him. Shaddiq was… far more power-hungry than I’d thought, and it became clear that he wanted more than just to control the Benerit Group. But by that point, he and Prospera had become too entrenched in the Group’s management to actually remove.”

The Burion CEO chuckled self-deprecatingly and rubbed his forehead.

“He… has that effect,” Renee finally replied after several seconds. “He worms his way into people and gets them to follow him. He looks so diplomatic, but he’s so…”

“Violent,” Mr. Burion finished the sentence for her, the word hanging in the air like a hologram of the man himself.

“I knew something was wrong when I first walked into that room with the five of you,” he continued. “Stepping into a room of Grassley’s ‘orphans’ is never comfortable, but he was more unsettling than anything else, because of how apparent it was that he was different from Sarius.”

The ex-Valkyrie flinched as he brought up the past. He’d always wondered why four arrived at Quiet Zero when five had been with Shaddiq at Asticassia. Maybe now he could find out.

“Did you watch the duel Shaddiq had with Suletta, Mr. Burion?”

Renee asked the question before he could even formulate a way to word his own. Her voice had changed, still quiet and somewhat pained, but now there was a hardness to it, as if she had to steel herself to even ask it.

“I… did not, no. I know Suletta lost, but everything else was lost in the chaos of the Earthian Gundams escaping,” he admitted.

Again the woman flinched, this time more suddenly. She hung her head for a couple seconds before exhaling a long breath and speaking.

“That… was the first display of what Shaddiq is really like. Him, and Henao, and even Maisie and Ireesha. He…” Renee drew a shuddering breath and looked up. There were tears streaking down her face, and Mr. Burion was taken aback by the deep pain distorting her expression. “He beat her down mercilessly, and let everyone hear as she feared for her life. And then…”

The golden-blonde woman choked up, emotion overwhelming her. With trembling hands, she grabbed for the teacup beside her, but only succeeded in sending it tumbling to the floor, where it shattered and spilled the last few sips onto the carpet. The sound jolted some emotional control back into Renee, and she continued, that deep, scarred pain coming through her voice now.

“I tried to leave. Sab, she… she wanted me to go with her, but Henao… Henao stopped me and used me to- to send a message to Sabina. And then every day… I paid for her desertion.”

Renee finished her sentence and curled up in her chair. Her words were replaced by sobs, and each one wracked her entire body like she was a crumpled marionette. Mr. Burion sat there in stunned silence, still caught off-guard by the woman’s uncharacteristic show of emotion.

It did make sense, the new information forming a crude connect-the-dots across the last four years. One of Grassley’s own defecting on the same day as the Lfrith Ur and Lfrith Thorn escaped explained how the Ur was not only in Hraesvelgr’s possession, but also why everyone who had encountered it described the pilot as highly skilled.

It also gave motive to Henao Jazz’s clear abuse, as well as Shaddiq’s apathetic approach to it. Which gave rise to a whole new question in Mr. Burion’s mind.

If they were so quick to abandon a long-time ace pilot who had gone through such intensive training, what would they do to, say, an old CEO who had outlived his usefulness?

Mr. Burion felt his earlier anger at his former pilots dissipate as he realized what had flown right beneath his eyes for years. His chase for power had distracted him from what the people he’d surrounded himself with had done to get there, and more importantly, what it had wrought upon those close to him.

The results of that were now laid out plainly in front of him, taking the shape of a small, sobbing woman with her arms wrapped tightly around her shuddering frame. He noticed with a sharp pang that Renee instinctively protected the soft parts of her body as she cried.

He leaned forward in his chair as a new idea formed in his head. With a soft touch, he patted the pilot’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey… it’s alright now, Ms. Costa. Grassley is far away, I won’t let them take you back,” he gently soothed, hearing the woman’s sobs subside slightly.

When she didn’t respond, he continued.

“If you’d like, I can officially have you join Burion Company, just so there’s no worries. I’ve been in need of a reliable assistant for a while now, truthfully.”

This caused Renee to visibly relax, and her head barely peeked above her arms to study Mr. Burion’s face.

 “You can really do that? But what about Shaddiq and… and Henao?”

“Ah, no need to worry about them any more,” Mr. Burion smiled softly, trying his best to lift the woman’s mood in some way. “I can handle sorting the specifics out in a manner that Shaddiq agrees with. In the meantime, I think you should get more accustomed with a Demi Barding and tell me what you think of it.”

That was the key to drawing the former Grassley pilot out of her daze. Renee wiped her eyes with a sleeve and stretched out her limbs. When she looked at him again, there was a little hint of that boisterous, confident pilot Mr. Burion had seen in Grassley duels years ago.

“Y-yes, of course. I… thank you for trusting me, Mr. Burion. I’ll do my best at whatever you ask of me,” Renee gave the CEO a brief bow of her head, then gently nodded her head once, as if affirming the promise to herself as well.

“Thank you for trusting me as well, Ms. Costa,” Mr. Burion smiled, a full one this time, and offered his hand to the woman. “We’ll work together quite well, I think.”

She took the older man’s hand and shook it without hesitation. As they sealed the agreement, Renee closed her eyes and balled one of her hands close to her chest.

“Sab…” the pilot whispered. “I’ll come to you, I swear…”

Mr. Burion pretended not to hear the quiet declaration, but he couldn’t help but grin internally. Without even a word about it, his new assistant was on the exact same page.

Now… to actually figure out how to execute this plan.