Skyrocket wrote:
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
United Earth Sphere Alliance Space Tracking Station
Kingston, Jamaica
Captain Peter Zwanzig was hot. Hot, irritated and drowsy. Being
roused from bed in the middle of a sweltering Jamaican night tended to
do that to him. Zwanzig cursed softly in his native German as he
finished buttoning up his uniform. God, whose idea was it for these
Napolonic outfits to be UESA standard even for troops stationed in the
"Napoleonic"
tropics? Cases of heatstroke were becoming annoyingly common among the
men under his command since winter had ended. Zwanzig made a mental note
to have a talk with the head of Caribbean Command as soon as possible.
His uniform now on Zwanzig muttered a few more curses before
Comma after "on"
leaving the small house that served as his private quarters. Rank did
have its privileges after all. As he crossed the compound the German
Delete RHIP.
felt himself began to sweat. Mentally he cursed whatever gods had seen
fit to assign him duty in this place. To try and overcome the heat
Zwanzig tried to recall the feeling of a cool spring evening back in his
hometown of D�sseldorf. It didn�t help.
Probably makes things worse.
�All right, what the hell is so important that you had to get me
out of bed at this ungodly hour?� demanded Zwanzig in English as he
opened the door of the main Tracking Control Center. The Captain was
slightly pleased that everyone in the roomed turned to look at him with
worried eyes. Good. If the explanation for this intrusion into his sleep
wasn�t spectacular there would be hell to pay.
Lieutenant Oito, the Chief Operator, was the one to answer the
Captain�s question. �Sorry to wake you, sir. But every UESA tracking
station has just been put on yellow alert. It seems that five unknown
and possibly hostile craft have entered the atmosphere.�
Doesn't sound jargony enough. Five bogies, perhaps?
�Do we have a location on any of these things?� said Zwanzig.
�Nothing fixed, sir,� reported Oito. �We�re having difficulty
locking onto them. Two seem to be headed for Asia and another for the
Middle East. Our branch in Dublin was tracking another one somewhere
over Europe but has since lost it.�
�And the last one?�
�It�s headed our way. Touchdown point is expected to be in or near
the North American continent.�
Zwanzig made an angry sound. Just what in the world was going on?
�All right, get a lock on whatever the hell this thing is. Once it lands
contact the Specials. Let�s make those overpaid bastards start earning
their keep.�
Oito gave his commanding officer an odd look. Zwanzig saw this and
gave the Lieutenant a smirk. �I know what you�re thinking, Oito. Why am
I letting the Specials handle this and not UESA troops?�
Oito nodded slowly.
�Very simple,� Zwanzig continued. �We�re dealing with an unknown
and possibly hazardous situation here. Better to have the Specials stick
their necks out than UESA soldiers. Besides, as much as I hate to admit
it, if the target does become hostile the Specials are better equipped
to handle it.�
So the military doesn't have any mobile suits?
�Sir! We�ve managed to lock onto the unknown,� informed one of the
technicians.
Instantly, Zwanzig and Oito were at his side staring at the radar
screen. �Where�s it heading?� demanded the German officer.
�Its telemetry indicates the northern part of the Gulf of Mexico,�
replied the technicians as his fingers danced across his keyboard.
�That�s not good,� said Oito. �There�s a large and powerful storm
brewing off the Gulf Coast right now. If the target comes down in that
area then there�s a high probability of the storm interfering with our
scans.�
�Damn,� hissed Zwanzig. �Very well, keep a lock on that thing. I
don�t care what you have to do, but do not lose it. If we lose that
thing all our heads will--�
�Uh oh,� gulped the technician.
There was dead silence in the control room for a very long moment.
�Just what do you mean by �uh oh�!?� snarled Zwanzig.
The beleaguered technician was now as pale a sheet. �Uh, well, sir,
the target suddenly put on a large burst of speed. From its position in
the, uh, atmosphere it was able to reach the storm in a few seconds. And
that�s were we, er, were we��
�Where we lost it,� finished Oito lamely. His face had maintained
its color but Zwanzig could see the dread in his eyes. It was the same
feeling that was now creeping up the German�s spine.
�Captain?� called another technician. Zwanzig turned to see that the
newcomer held a portable phone in his hand. In all the fluster he hadn�t
even heard it ring.
�Who is it?� said Zwanzig as he felt his mouth going dry. He, of
course, knew exactly who it was.
�It�s General Septum, sir. He wants to speak with you.�
That was when Captain Zwanzig really began to sweat.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was times like this that made Nathan Olsen regret that he�d ever
joined the military. Less than an hour ago he�d been asleep in his bunk
back on the UESA aircraft carrier Relentless. He�d been jarred from a
very enjoyable dream about some of his more attractive female shipmates
by the braying of the ship�s sirens. Duty had decided to make a late
night call. And so it was that Olsen found himself with six of him
fellow servicemen in a helicopter over the Gulf of Mexico riding out the
worst storm he�d seen in all of his twenty-four years.
Do they even use helicopters any more? Why? They've got anti-gravity!
�God damn!� cursed Olsen. �Will you look at this storm. That�s a
damn hurricane out there!�
�Quite yer bitchin�, Nat,� teased Keys, one of the other crewmen.
�I grew up in Florida, so I can tell ya this ain�t nothing compared to a
real hurricane. This sucker isn�t even a tropical depression.�
�Thanks so much, Keys. I�ll find that very comforting when this
crate takes a swan dive and we all end up fish food,� snorted Olsen. He
then turned and cast a cold glance at the cockpit. �Hey, Alvarez!
Shreve! You two think you can hold this damn chopper steady? We�re
gettin� shaken like a cheap martini back here!�
�Pipe down, Olsen, or I�ll come back there and jam a cork in you,�
threaten the co-pilot, Shreve, from her position behind the controls.
�And I promise you, I�ll stick it someplace you really won�t like.�
This brought a round of snickering from Keys and the other two
crewmen in the main section, Mwamba and Weaver. Olsen flared red for a
moment but decided to let it pass. The other member of the Relentless�
Ocean Search and Rescue team had been together long enough to know how
to punch each other�s buttons.
�I still don�t see why we got stuck with this job,� grumbled Olsen.
�This chopper wasn�t meant to operate in these kind of conditions. The
UESA should have sent in some mobile suits. They�re much better equipped
for this kind of weather.�
�But they don�t have our experience in search and rescue,� piped in
Weaver. This caught the rest of the team slightly off guard. The tall
blond crewman had a reputation for being the silent type.
They sent an unarmed helicopter to investigate a presumably hostile incursion?
Well isn't that special! Why? What did they expect to accomplish?
�Weaver�s got a point,� added Mwamba, a wiry black man who spoke
with a vague East African accent. �But as we were loading up I overheard
some of the brass talking. Seems that Specials don�t want to get
involved until they know just what landed out here.�
So the Specials aren't actually under the authority of the military?
�How much you want to bet the Specials know something about this
operation that we don�t?� asked Keys.
�No bet,� said Olsen. �If they aren�t going to come out here until
after we�ve risked our necks it�s a sure bet that they know something we
don�t. Besides, I doubt the bigshots would want to send out their
perfumed princesses when they�ve got grunts like us to do the dirty
work.�
In the control chair of the Gundam history would come to know as
Deathscythe, a young man smiled a grim smile. �Earth, say hello to the
God of Death. You and I will *not* be getting along.�
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Even in the year AC 195 Arizona�s Grand Canyon is still considered
one of the Seven Wonders of the World. In its history the canyon has
Natural wonders perhaps.
seen great geological change and played host to various indian tribes,
explorers, adventures, fortune hunters, lawmen, outlaws and tourists.
But tonight a new and strange visitor was due to arrive.
The silvery light of the moon shone down on the desert as the
Gundam Deathscythe appeared from the night. It stopped in mid-air over
the canyon and hovered there silently as if listening for something. In
the distance a coyote howled. Weather it was in response to the midnight
hunter�s call or not, the Gundam began to descend. Shortly it was
positioned between two cliffs in an area colorfully named the Abyss.
Once the machine was parked a hatch in its chest opened. From
within emerged a small figure in a red and brown spacesuit. The figure
stood on the hatch for a moment taking in the view of the canyon
silently. He then reached for his helmet. There was a hiss of air as the
suit�s seal was released and the Gundam pilot then removed his helmet.
The young man who called himself Duo Maxwell inhaled deeply and
then glanced at the sky. He was silent for several moments, simply
taking in all the desert night had to offer. �So that�s what the moon
looks like from Earth,� he mused. �It seems so small and far away. But
still beautiful.�
Duo then clambered back into Deathscythe, stripped of his spacesuit
and changed into his favorite outfit: black boots, black slacks, a black
shirt with a white priest�s collar and a black cap. These were the
working clothes of the God of Death.
The pilot then climbed up the Gundam until he reached the suit�s
shoulder. He then lay down, stretched and returned to watching the
stars. �Now this is a view I could get used to,� grinned Duo as he
looked up. �Those clouds rollin� by are just something you don�t get
with your moon back in the colonies.�
Duo watched the sky a bit longer before a giant yawn escaped his
lips. �Damn, I�m more tired than I thought. Guess I should grab some
shuteye. I�ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.�
With that, the young warrior pulled his cap down over his eyes.
Moments later he was asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Duo awoke he was instantly on full alert. Long months of
training for this mission had made the Gundam pilot�s senses sharper
than most. There was a beeping sound coming from the cockpit of his
mobile suit.
�Now who could that be? I specifically told my secretary to hold my
calls,� said Duo as he skittered down the side of the Gundam. Inwardly
the pilot snickered at his own joke. He knew perfectly well who it was.
There was only one person it could be.
Seconds later Duo was in the suit's control chair pushing the comm
button. Instantly, a screen filled with the image of a shifty looking
man with a shock or gray hair and a very large nose.
"Hey, Professor G," greeted the pilot. "I wasn't expecting to hear
from you in person again."
The professor shrugged. "I suppose I must be becoming worrisome in
my old age. I just wanted to see that you were down and safe with my own
eyes.
"Right as rain, Prof."
"Did anyone see you?"
"Not anyone still among the living," assured the God of Death.
Why didn't the helicopter broadcast information?
Professor G just nodded. "Good. Our spies tell us that OZ is already
starting to put things together. The fewer witnesses they have to work
with the longer it will take them to figure out how to deal with us.
That delay will be crucial if we're to win."
What is OZ?
"Don't worry, professor," said Duo. "Anyone who sees me has got a
date with his maker."
"Excellent. It's that sort of attitude that will ensure freedom for
all the colonies." On screen the professor reached for a nearby keyboard
and tapped a few buttons. "This is an update I just received on your
first objective," explained the scientist. Another screen in the
Gundam's cockpit lit up and information flowed in at a frantic rate.
"This target is very critical, Duo. It's the largest OZ weapons plant
in North America. Destroying this facility will be a serious blow to OZ
and will demonstrate that we mean business."
Since his attack on the weapons plant Duo had been monitoring
the local media to make sure no mention of him or his mobile suit had
gone public. Not that there was much chance of that. OZ would see to it
that some sort of believable cover story was given to the press. Duo
briefly wondered if someone might try to pin the blame on the colonies.
Since the colonies are responsible, that seems only fair.