[FFML] Mobile Suit Gundam Storm, Ch. 5 (First Draft)

[Andrew Dynon]

[Before we start, I've been procrastinating on revisions for chapters 3 and
4.  I'll get to them soon, I promise!]

 

Ten years ago

 

I stood inside the ship's airlock, one among a crowd of eight-year-old
supersoldier candidates.  All of our hair was in the regulation buzzcut, and
our physiques were strictly monitored to ensure they fit the parameters
defined for our age.  Strict regimens of physical training were required to
ensure we could operate in any environment, and our diets kept our weights
within the narrow acceptable range.  Currently, we were dressed in identical
normal suits, with helmets hung on the wall beside us.  Aside from our
natural variations in skin tone and hair colour, it would be hard for an
outsider to distinguish us.  An outsider may have seen a set of
indistinguishable candidates, but even where two of my siblings had the same
coloured skin and hair, I could unfailingly distinguish the subtle
variations in their features.  Pallas, Ares, Artemis, Odin, Durga, Guan Yu,
and others.  Even though we had not been together long yet, I saw my
siblings assembled, unified in our purpose and pursuit of excellence.  And I
felt proud.

 

                A virtual window popped into existence in front of the
airlock, and the face of one of the instructors appeared.  We didn't know
the name of the bald man with the moustache, only that, as our instructor,
he outranked us and we were therefore required to obey him.

 

                "Good morning, Gold Platoon.  Today, you will be having your
first face-to-face meeting with vacuum, and as you are likely to engage in
many operations in its company, it would benefit you to get to know it well!
You've managed to perform to an acceptable standard in simulations.  I
expect you to be able to do the same now that you are about to experience
the real thing!  Once the alarm sounds, the airlock will open.  You will
have thirty seconds to don and properly seal your helmet before the airlock
depressurises.  That should be plenty of time.  Once you have done that, you
will head out and perform manoeuvre patterns Alpha through Echo - your first
experience in actual, non-simulated space.  Get used to it, boys and girls!"

 

                The alarm sounded, and the outer airlock doors began to
slide open.  I managed to grab my helmet, put it on and make sure it was
sealed inside the twenty-second mark.  I then looked around to see if
anybody was struggling.  I saw that Pallas' collar was out of place, with a
distortion in its shape common for a rushed sealing job, and walked over to
her to fix it.  She looked at me as I moved over, and I indicated where the
collar was incorrect.  She signalled for me to back off. 

 

                "I can fix it myself!"  She managed to do so, but our
exchange had drawn the attention of the other trainees - and people noticing
one of the rare occasions when she made a mistake was not the kind of
attention Pallas liked.  

 

                "Embarrassment won't kill you, Pallas." I said.  "An
incorrectly sealed helmet might."

 

                "Hmph.  Ready for me to get those points back off you?"

 

                "Is that the only thing you think about?  Your points and
rankings?"

 

                "It's how we know who's the best, right?"

 

                "1F-01 and 02, quit chatting and begin your manoeuvre
patterns!" The instructor yelled.

 

                "Yes, sir!" We chorused.  With that, we took our first step
outside of the hollowed-out asteroid that we had grown up in, and stepped
out in the direction of Mars, Earth, and the distant sun.

 

*****

MOBILE SUIT GUNDAM STORM

 

A Fanfic by Andrew Dynon

 

Based on Mobile Suit Gundam created by Yoshiyuki Tomino and Hajime Yadate

 

Chapter 5: To the Planet of Water, With Memories

*****

 

                "What do you mean, we're being reassigned?"  Even
considering your lack of military experience, ensign Yamada, that statement
was unambiguous.  Why did you feel an emotional outburst was in order?

 

                Captain Monash kept her cool as she explained.  "The
Commonwealth feels that combat tests with the Gundam units have been
conducted to their satisfaction.  Therefore, the Gallipoli is to leave Mars
and head to the main theatre of war in Earth orbit.  Furthermore, we will be
part of a major push toward Luna and the Pact-aligned colonies."

 

                "This is bullshit!" Shane protested.  "I signed up for the
military to protect my home on Mars, not to fight for the Commonwealth
bigwigs back on Earth!  How many Mars Fleet ships are going to be part of
this push they're talking about?  I'm no master tactician, but I know that
for each one that's going to Earth, that's one less we have to defend Mars
with.  Not that it matters to the brass.  We're just some far-off colony
that should be grateful for the little support we do receive from them!"  

                

                "Yamada, as a red-duster myself, I understand your
frustration."  Monash said, using the slang term for a Martian.  "If it's
any compensation, remember that this will likely force LunaPact to call
their forces back to Earth orbit as well."

 

                "Yamada, your duty as a soldier is to go and fight wherever
you are assigned.  Surely you are aware of that."

 

                "And what's it to you, little miss supersoldier?"  Yamada
asked me.  "How do you feel about this?  Oh, that's right, it doesn't matter
to you, does it?  It's not like you've got any kind of personal stake in
what happens to the Mars colony or anything."

 

                I didn't know how to respond, so I maintained my neutral
expression.  It was one thing to get yelled at for screwing up  - I had
endured, and more often seen my siblings endure, that for years at Sparta
Base - but for someone to speak so accusingly, not over something I had
done, but simply who I was, caused an odd kind of chill inside me, and my
body made an involuntary shiver. 

 

                "Ensign Yamada, go and find something to do to work off your
frustration."  Captain Monash said.  As he departed, she put her hand on my
shoulder.

 

                "Don't worry about it.  Shane's upset, so he's lashing out
at whoever happens to be nearby."     

 

                "That's irresponsible, ma'am."

 

                "Let him express his anger now.  He'll be over it by the
time we get to Earth.  But he does have a point.  Out of all the people on
the ship, you have the least emotional investment in the battle.  Now, I'm
sure you've been given the standard spiel about emotion being a weakness and
so forth, but can you tell me what you're actually fighting for?"

 

                "."

 

                "It's okay not to answer now.  Just let me know when you've
found something.  In the meantime, you should see what you'll likely to be
going up against when we arrive in Earth orbit."  She turned to the
computer.  "Run Sirius files."

 

                A virtual window opened up next to us, showing video footage
of an unfamiliar white mobile suit engaged in battle.  I watched as a white
mobile suit with black markings tore through a squadron of GRs.  The new MS
had the rounded surfaces common to LunaPact mobile suits, but its shape was
sleeker, more streamlined.  Performance-wise, it appeared far deadlier than
LunaPact's standard issue Regulus MS as well - armament shown in the footage
included four beam guns, mounted on the shoulders and forearms, as well as a
twin-bladed beam saber.  The new enemy MS also performed some manoeuvres
that impressed even me as it evaded fire and moved in to cut apart multiple
targets - I estimated that its manoeuvrability was at least on par with
Yamada's Lightning Gundam - maybe even with my Gale Gundam.  The only
weakness I can see was the size of the generator on its back, used to power
those beam guns, but the way it could move, even that would be no easy
target.

 

                At the new MS' flanks were two more black-and-white MS -
Denebs, the LunaPact's current model superiority MS.  They had extra
verniers added, but they were still struggling to keep up with the new MS -
and the pilot of the new MS didn't seem all that concerned for his or her
wingmen's ability to stay with them.  Did the pilot just want to show off
what they, or the new MS, could do, without concern for the other MS'
abilities?  I made a mental note of that behaviour - perhaps I could take
advantage of it. 

 

                "That footage was taken from the carrier Verdun thirty-six
hours ago."  Captain Monash said.  "Intercepted transmissions referred to
the new MS as Sirius.  As you can see, its capabilities outclass the GR
series that it fought against it."

 

                "And so command wants to bring in the Gundams to even the
odds." McDermott added.            

                "Sir, shouldn't Yamada be here to see this?"

 

                "Four weeks in transit is plenty of time for that."
McDermott smiled.  "I think we can afford to wait until he's in a better
mood.  In any case, it's not all that much to go on, but we can convert the
footage we have.  It'll be on the ship's main server."  

 

*****

 

                I sat in the Gale's cockpit, feeling oddly lethargic as I
watched and rewatched the Sirius footage.  Yamada's comments, and Captain
Monash's question about what I was fighting for, irritated me.  I was
created to fight on behalf of the Commonwealth, and I was damn good at it.
Wasn't that enough?  Shouldn't they just be grateful to have me with them
instead of trying to get me to ask pointless philosophical questions about
the meaning of my existence?

 

                But did that mean I was ultimately just a tool?  And if I
was, what if I was no longer deemed useful?  Would I be willing to simply be
disposed of?  What of my siblings?  Would they also be disposed of if there
were no more need for us?  If it were only me, I could bear the prospect of
termination once my services were no longer required.  But when I thought of
the siblings I had grown and trained alongside suffering the same fate, my
skin went colder than if it had been exposed to a sunless vacuum.

 

                Ensign Gold, your brainwave patterns are unusual.  The sound
of Metis' voice interrupted my train of thought.  

 

                "How can you tell that?"

 

                Sensors in your helmet and the cockpit measure your
brainwave data.  It allows me to fine-tune the Gundam's reactions.

 

"Thought control?"

 

Negative.  Manual control input is still required.  However, this system
facilitates greater responsiveness than would be possible using a purely
manual control system.  Technical details are unimportant at this time,
though.  What concerns you?

 

                "I'm just thinking, Metis."  There was a pause, as if we
were each waiting for each other to continue.  "Wondering what my reason to
fight is."  I wondered why I was to a computer, even one as advanced as
Metis, about my reasons.  Was it because it seemed easier than talking to a
human?  Or maybe it was because Metis seemed, in a way, more similar to
myself than they did?  We were both made to fight, after all, designed as
efficient killing machines.

 

                I have no data on that.

 

                "No, I don't suppose you do."  

 

                However, my purpose is to protect and assist you, my pilot.

 

                "So you could say that even you have a reason to fight."

 

                Affirmative.  I don't know if I can help, but I shall
attempt to assist you with this as well.

 

                I was no expert, but from what I knew of computer systems,
Metis' responses were simply advanced brainwave analysis and
response-pattern subroutines.  She may be able to simulate emotion, I told
myself, but she couldn't feel it.  Don't be silly.

 

                "I was wondering if this 'reason to fight' stuff is part of
the whole 'learning to be human' thing they're trying to get me to do, even
though I'm not the same as them.  I'm not even sure I want to learn to be
human.  A lot of the things they do can be fun for a while, but in the end
they seem kind of pointless to me.  But it seems a 'reason to fight' isn't
just for them."

 

                All of us carry the potential for growth.  We have both
learned more since activation.  As time passes, we change.

 

                "I guess so."

 

                Maybe talking to Lieutenant McDermott and Ensign Yamada will
help you understand them better, too.

 

                "I'm not sure.  Like I said, I'm different from them."

 

                Still, you should try.

 

                "All right, Metis.  And thank you."

 

                You're welcome, my pilot.

 

*****

 

                "So, Metis suggested that you ask me for advice?" Lieutenant
McDermott said when I asked him to explain his reasons.  "Good suggestion,
if I do say so myself.  Maybe those AIs in our Gundams are smarter than I've
been giving them credit for."  He made a self-deprecating laugh to assure me
that he was not as full of himself as he was acting.  

 

                "Actually, I'd been in the military a couple of years before
the war broke out.  I originally signed up because it was a good way to get
girls."

 

                "To get girls?"

 

                "Yeah, like they say, chicks dig the uniform.  I've probably
been with more than my share of women.  Of course, that saying doesn't apply
to women who are actually in the military.  Least of all you, ensign."

 

                "That doesn't really seem like much of a reason to fight."
I'd had the concept of sexuality explained to me by now, but the alterations
to my body meant I'd never felt it.  Once, Shane had sent several
pornographic images and video files to my datapad as "education".  For me,
the most memorable part of the experience was the obvious frustration he
felt at his failure to get me to react to any of it.  In the end I had burst
out laughing at his exasperated cry.

 

                "You're right, it isn't.  Matter of fact, when war actually
broke out, it seemed like I was just swept up in things, and didn't really
have time to think about it.  I was made sub-commander of a wing taking part
in an assault on Ista Nova, near the south pole of Mars.  We were a bunch of
jocks - and that includes the women there, too - with too much enthusiasm
and too little common sense.  But we were good mates, and we looked out for
each other."

 

                "Anyway, the brass completely bollocksed up the approach
route we were using to assault the LunaPact position, resulting in our
entire company diving straight into a meat grinder.  The mates I'd served
alongside dropped like flies, and it was all we could do to try and make it
back safely to friendly lines.  I was the only one in my wing who got there
in one piece."

 

                "And then, brass being brass, they decided that we were the
ones at fault for the failure of our part the operation, while the pillock
who'd organised the whole debacle got a pat on the back and probably a pay
rise thanks to the efforts of the soldiers in a couple of other companies
who, against all odds, managed to establish a beachhead.  It was when I
heard about that I decided I couldn't give a shit about what the brass
thought any more.  I'd had enough of seeing men and women I liked, and who
put their trust in me, get killed, and just wanted to keep the soldiers
under me alive, whatever it took to do that.  Anyway, I didn't really have a
unit I was stationed with any more after that mess, and someone needed a
commanding officer for a new pet project of theirs, which is how I ended up
here."   

 

                "So, you're fighting for the sake of the soldiers under
you?" I asked.  

 

                "That about sums it up."

 

                "Thank you, sir."

 

                "Hey, don't mention it."

 

                "Metis suggested I talk to Ensign Yamada as well, but."

 

                "You've got plenty of time for that.  Leave him be for now
while he blows off some steam."

 

*****

 

                When the ship's night cycle arrived, I fell asleep, and
dreamed.  In my dream, I was back on Sparta base.  The insignia on my
uniform and the surroundings was unfamiliar, for some reason, but everything
else was in place.  I looked over the squad I was to command in a
capture-the-flag match against Pallas' squad.  Teams of ten, as usual, in a
maze of hills and rocky outcroppings.  I instructed Artemis, our sniping
specialist, to hold the fort with three others while Guan Yu and I lead
teams to circle around and flank Pallas' squad's fort.

 

                In this situation, I was in my environment.  In a one-on-one
battle, where I didn't have to worry about anyone else, I was more free and
could be more reckless, which sometimes ended up coming unstuck when I make
a mistake that my opponent could take advantage of, although the only ones
who could consistently seize the opportunity before I recovered were Pallas
and Ares.  When I was in command, however, I reined myself in.  Being in
command of a squad forced me to consider them as well as myself, but the
restriction, ironically, helped put me at ease, allowing me to see the
tactics in my mind more clearly.  Even though Ares and Pallas both had
winning records against me one-on-one, the figures were reversed in team
situations.  Pallas was the opposite, excelling in single combat, but often
not considering her teammates.  I could take advantage of that.  But even
so, I could count on her not to make things easy for me, and I was thankful
to her for that.  An easy victory would mean I didn't have to push myself.
And that would be dull.

 

                Exercises against Pallas or Ares were never dull, though.
With them it was as though the adrenaline burst we felt when we entered
combat was more powerful, making our senses sharper, our bodies able to push
themselves harder.  The other candidates and I sometimes got that kind of
reaction from each other, but we three felt them most intensely. Curiously,
the same reaction occurred when we were fighting alongside each other.  Was
it that, even when we were on the same side, we still wanted to outdo the
others?  Or was it simply us being together?

 

                In this case, my plan worked.  I was able to lure Pallas
into pursuing us, freeing up Guan Yu, Durga and Sif to take her squad's
flag.  Pallas scored kills on Odin and Pele and a wound on me before I lured
her into a location where Artemis could snipe her, though.  By the rules,
Odin and Pele would have to miss the next match, but it had been drilled
into my head that the consequences on a real battlefield were much more
serious. 

 

                "Looks like I win again." I told Pallas as we sat to eat our
rations together after the exercise.  "Pallas, you're a damn good fighter,
but if you don't take your squad into account, I'm gonna keep owning you in
the team battles."

 

                Pallas stabbed at some meat substitute with her FRED[1], and
began chewing it as she talked.  "The way I see it, Athene, is that they
need to work harder.  I'm not gonna slow down for someone who's not on my
level.  And I'm already thinking of ways to even the score for this.  And
then beat you down some more."

 

                "I'm looking forward to seeing you try." I grinned.

 

                "No, I'm the one looking forward to seeing you try and stop
me.  Don't lose to Ares first."

 

*****

 

                The next morning, I spoke to Shane as we went for our daily
exercise in the gym.  Weight training facilities were required on all
Commonwealth spaceships to ensure that personnel maintained sufficient
muscle mass while in zero gravity.

 

                "Ensign Yamada, you said that you were fighting to protect
the Mars Colony."

 

                "Yeah, I've got friends and family there, and I don't want
LunaPact to take over.  I already told you the story about how I signed up,
right?"

 

                "Yes.  I'm curious how you got assigned as a Gundam pilot,
though.  You're not enhanced like me, or a distinguished pilot like
Lieutenant McDermott."

 

                "Just managed to impress the brass, I guess.  They saw me as
someone with potential, who wasn't so used to the old-model control systems
that I'd have trouble adjusting to the Gundam's."

 

                "And how did that happen?"

 

                "Right place, right time, being good enough to make an
impression, and lucky enough to survive."  He stopped his exercises and
leaned back.  I continued my weights routines as I listened.  

 

                "By the way, remember to put the settings back down when
you're done with those.  I nearly threw my back out last time.  

 

"Anyway, picture this.  I'm at base with a bunch of recruits like me who've
just finished our MS combat pilot training.  Okay, there's some more
experienced guys there, too, but they tend to be moving in and out for
assignments.  Anyway, one night, just as we're getting settled in to sleep,
the alarms go off, and two wings of Regs come over the horizon."

 

                "So we scramble, and I'm barely suited up and skimming
through the checkup when we realise it's not just Regs.  This brand spanking
new-model MS comes in and strafes the crap out of the base, manages to take
out one of the hangars, along with anyone who happened to be inside it.  I
don't know at the time if any of my mates were in there, but damn if I'm
gonna let him do that again.  So I manage to get a hold of an MS RPG
launcher, and when he comes round for another pass, I fire.  He sees it
coming and dodges, but I manage to catch him in the lower leg.

 

                "So now I've managed to get the attention of the new MS - we
call it a Deneb, now - and I realise it's probably one of their top pilots
in there that I've gotten pissed at me.  And I figure I can't win in a
straight fight against something like that, so I've gotta figure something
out.  But I know the area around the base better than he does, so I've got a
chance if I can get him to go where I want.

 

                "I run off, always trying to keep a corner between me and
him.  Occasionally, I get a shot or two off from a corner, but I don't
manage to hit anything.  And I can hear the damn thing's footsteps behind me
in my head, closing in all the time.  But just as he's about to catch me, I
manage to get him where I want him.  Sanjay and Amanda are able to swing in
behind the bastard and open fire, he's taken down, and the base, my MS, and
me survive intact.

 

                "So even though Sanjay and Amanda were the ones who scored
the kill, they tell the brass that I should get the credit.  A few days
later, I get a transfer notice.  Next thing I know, I'm here."

 

                "So, that tell you what you wanted to know?"

 

                "I think I understand why you were selected, now." I
replied.  "Sanjay and Amanda were your fellow recruits, correct?"

 

                "Amanda was.  Sanjay had been there a while longer.  He was
a Lieutenant Junior Grade,  but we weren't all that worried about
formalities there."

 

                "In any case, they were right to give you credit.  I've been
in several operations with you now, and can see that, despite your
inexperience, you're a skilled and intelligent pilot.  Not to mention, you
gave me a lesson about underestimating my opponent that I'm not likely to
forget."

 

                "Hey, good to know I taught you something."

 

                "Oh, and also."

 

                "What?"

 

                "When this is over, you'll be going back to your home,
right?"

 

                "Hey, I'm gotta hope for the best."

 

                "I. I'm not sure if I'll ever return home."  It felt strange
to refer to Sparta Base that way.  But just as Yamada had a place, and
people, he wished to return to, I thought of that cluster of asteroids, and
the siblings I learned and trained alongside, and hoped to see them again.

 

*****

 

Earth, four weeks later

 

The boardroom was designed for large meetings, but now, only three people
were present.  A pale-skinned young man in a military uniform sat to one
side of an elaborate three-dimensional hologram of the area around Lagrange
Point 4, while an older man and woman in business suits were seated opposite
him.

 

"So the Gallipoli's arrived in Earth orbit."  The younger man said.  "And
the data feeds are set up.  The battle is set to begin shortly."

 

"And we'll have confirmation of the resonance phenomenon?" the woman asked.

 

"Assuming things go as anticipated, I'd say it's highly likely." The older
man said.  

 

"Risking two highly-promising candidates in this way seems wasteful." The
woman speculated.

 

"Everything about this project is a risk." The younger man said.  "However,
if those two show you what you're looking for, then it will be well worth
it.  There have been hints of it in training, but if our theories are
correct, it will take real combat for them to properly resonate.  I'm quite
looking forward to the show."

 

*****

 

Lagrange Point 4

 

                Something was not right.

 

                As I ran through the pre-combat checks, there seemed to be
no reason to believe that.  This engagement would be larger than my previous
ones, and in space rather than on a planetary surface, true, but neither of
those factors were a concern to me.  I ran through the checks a second time,
and once again, all systems were in working order.

 

                Ensign Gold, your brainwave patterns are unusual again.  Are
you worried?  Metis asked. 

 

"I don't know.  Everything seems to be in order.  But I just can't shake
this feeling that something's not right."

 

The only anomalous factor in this mission is the Sirius MS.

 

"And you've seen the data we've acquired.  Going by that, we should be able
to beat it, right?"

 

Affirmative.

 

"And yet, for some reason, I can't seem to shake my worries about it."

 

But the worst thing I could do would be to let it throw off my performance.
Luckily, as I began the start-up procedure, I felt the adrenaline that came
when I headed into combat, forcing my concern over the Sirius into the back
of my mind.

 

"Athene Gold, Gale Gundam, launching!"  Seconds later, I was outside the
ship, in the vacuum of space.  The Gundam flight's primary task was to
function as the spearhead of this assault, to try and penetrate the enemy
lines and take the LunaPact-aligned L4 colonies.  If the Sirius appeared as
predicted, we were to focus our attention on that, to destroy it or at least
nullify its impact on the battlefield.  

 

For the first fifteen minutes of the sortie, we focused on the former task,
blasting away at the vanguard of Regulus MS and clearing the way for the
main force to follow through.  Then, I heard Captain Monash on the comms.

 

"Sirius and escorts sighted!  Gundam flight, that's your cue.  Engage and
destroy!"

 

"Roger that, captain!  Gold, engage the Sirius.  Yamada and I will engage
the Denebs." Lieutenant McDermott said, and we turned to head toward the
Sirius' location.  As we approached, the feeling of unease returned,
stronger than it had been during my mission prep.  I tried to force it down
again, knowing I couldn't afford to let it dominate me.

 

I made an approach from the black-and-white MS' port flank, firing a probing
shot, but the Sirius evaded with surprising speed.  I couldn't replay the
video footage to confirm the fact, but it seemed to react even faster than
our data had indicated.  It turned, breaking formation with its Deneb
escorts, and firing its beam guns at me, forcing me to take evasive action.

 

We made several more passes at each other, each time managing to evade each
other's fire.  Whoever was inside the Sirius, they were damn good.  But
then, so was I.  All the while, though, that feeling of unease inside me was
mutating into something else, akin to a powerful adrenaline burst,
sharpening my senses, push my body harder.  As I fought, I gradually
realised that the Sirius' manoeuvre patterns seemed familiar, and that the
burst of energy I felt was a more intense version of the way I felt
practicing against.

 

"Pallas?"

 

TO BE CONTINUED  

 

[1] FRED: Field Ration Eating Device, a multi-purpose utensil included with
ration packs.  Popularly known as a "Fucking Ridiculous Eating Device".

 


  _____  

[1] FRED: Field Ration Eating Device, a multi-purpose utensil included with
ration packs.  Popularly known as a "Fucking Ridiculous Eating Device".

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