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"Private Marcolini, if you could please confirm that the telemetry is correct..." the voice crackled over the radio. "Hello? Do you copy, over?" Private Lucas Marcolini patently ignored the distant voice. He hadn't bothered to replace his headset yet, and was quite hard of hearing - the speaker in the console seemed extremely far away. There was too much to be said for the spectacular view of God's green Earth for him to bother with the annoying ground controllers in Tibet. "Private Marcolini, do you copy, over?" it came again. "General, I think the circuit might be down... there's something wrong, at any rate." A new voice brusquely presented itself. "Give me that..." "Marcolini, you WILL report your telemetric data, do you understand?" it was Ghinius Sakhalin, obviously as irate as ever. "...understood, General," Lucas returned, finally, replacing the headset on his cranium. "Busybody..." he said, switching off the microphone and compiling the telemetric data from the launch earlier in the day. "I've sent it," he reported, turning the mic back on. "Data received," the controller replied pleasantly. "Thanks. Okay... it looks like you've drifted about point-two degrees to the south... please correct in exactly three minutes, eight seconds." "I copy," Lucas said, taking in the view again. For what purpose does man fight man... he pondered, watching the Earth slowly rotate under him. Perhaps if Side 3 could see a view like this, circumstances would not have developed as they have. "Right, begin your course correction now," the controller's voice returned. Lucas ever so gently eased back on the left throttle for a scant few moments. "Okay, that did it. Everything's lined up for you to begin descent." "Right. I am beginning my descent now," Lucas reported. His hands ran along the panels on either side, flipping a medley of switches into their active position and shutting down unnecessary systems and control apparatuses. There was a bit of a lurch as several powerful engines kicked on, halting his forward velocity, and a deep humming noise permeated the cockpit as the Minovsky-craft system began powering on. With his final orientation completed, he felt the bottom seem to give out from below as the Apsaras II began its descent. A tuft of white hair fell to the ground as Admiral Gene Corini brushed his gloved hands together, clearing them of shed fur from the cat which sprawled happily in his lap. Pets typically weren't allowed onboard EF Navy vessels, but protocol could be pushed quite a bit when you had a flag officer's bars on your collar. "Admiral, we have our final report from Malta, sir," an adjutant saluted, clipboard in hand. "Read it," Corini, laconic to a point, nodded. "Yes sir," the enlisted man said sharply. "We have confirmation that the Gaw squadron that's been harassing our positions around Kilimanjaro was totally annihilated by quick action on the part of our Army contingents in North Africa, specifically that on the part of the Lackluster Fortune and Lieutenant Daren Sanders." Corini shut his eyes and made an approving grunt. "...however, large Zeon mobile suit forces are still operational in the sub-Saharan regions, and the expeditionary force centered on the battleship Eriu was destroyed yesterday. They've recommended more punitive steps be taken against Zeon land forces in the region to reduce the strategic significance of the Alexandria base." "Unfortunate, if true," Corini remarked. "But, they will not try to swim here. This fortress is absolutely secure." "Yes sir, that's the way 'the rock' has always been," the adjutant nodded. Corini was about to dismiss him when a klaxon sounded. "...are they conducting a drill today?" "Emergency! Emergency! An unknown object is descending from 200,000 feet towards this location!" a female voice announced over the PA system. "...200,000 feet..." Corini said, bushy eyebrows bunching together as he furrowed his brow. "We're relocating to the Everest. Inform the Defense HQ." "The heat ablation coating is performing to within ninety-three percent of expected resistance." "No fluctuations in the Minovsky-craft system detected. Deceleration is proceeding orderly." "Re-entry trajectory remains on target. No deviations." Ghinius Sakhalin offered himself a bit of a smirk as he leaned forward from his duty station in the Apsaras' control bunker. "You see, Norris... my Apsaras is working perfectly," he said, eyes glowing over the figures that flew across the screens before him with the kind of love usually seen in a proud parent. His aide-de-camp, Colonel Norris Packard, looked on with a degree of suspicion. He was old-fashioned, to say the least. "I understand that, sir, but..." he began, looking at the floor briefly. "...can one mobile armor really win the war for us?" "That one can," Ghinius replied. "Just wait. That pesky lump of rock will be dust in moments. Heh... heheheh... it's a pity we won't be able to see the look on Yuri's face..." "The enemy base has detected the Apsaras' descent and is scrambling interceptors." "Fools..." Ghinius remarked. The negative g-forces Lucas was experiencing were quite a bit stronger than he'd anticipated. The cockpit was glowing red from the massive ball of flame travelling behind him, the Apsaras' thick armor plating peeling off in thin layers as designed, protecting it from being torn apart by the incredible friction being exerted on it. A digital altimeter blared through its digits at a breakneck speed, the number of meters between him and the ground halving in moments, or at least it seemed as much to Lucas. The air was getting thicker, and the flames were receding; the Minovsky-craft system would take over soon. "50,000..." he grunted. At thirty he would invert the Apsaras so it was facing downward and fully switch over to the Minovsky-craft system. The altimeter continued rocketing downward in digits. "Status, now," Corini growled, arriving on the carrier's bridge with nothing in the way of an entrance. "The unidentified object is closing on 90,000 feet and decelerating from mach fourteen, Admiral," the Everest's logistical officer reported sharply. "Mach fourteen..." Corini said, considering the improbably high numbers involved. "That thing was dropped from orbit... plot its course and send up missiles at once!" "Air defenses are being prepared as we speak," the offier nodded. "We'll get him." Corini nodded as he sat down, watching Jet Core Boosters flinging off the deck of the carrier and climbing into the air. "30,000... inverting now..." Lucas said, pulling back hard on the maneuvering surfaces. The mobile armor abruptly spun ninety degrees on its axis, the giant mega particle cannon now facing the ground. Several proximity warnings began buzzing, indicating the presence of enemy incoming munitions. Lucas depressed his thumb against a button on the side of one of the control sticks, and a tingling sensation began running up his body as the huge capacitor banks in the mobile armor began filling with energy. His eyes darted to the altimeter again; in those few seconds he'd descended another two thousand meters. The clouds parted as the mobile armor streaked towards Earth, multiple sonic booms following behind it, allowing him a clear view of his target: a lonely bit of rock jutting out of the tip of the Iberian Peninsula. A missile streaked past him and exploded some distance behind. My Lord God, remember the pledge and weight I carry. All my paths are pledged to you. Deliver my soul from the sword, he began, one hand clutching the crucifix hanging from his neck. "Captain, that thing isn't slowing down!" the Lackluster Fortune's radio-intercept officer exclaimed. "Get our own planes in the air, quickly!" Captain Richard Jacobs exclaimed. "If that thing lands we won't be able to get away this time. Move it!" He pondered the whereabouts of Daren Sanders, the Big Tray's commander in all but name, who'd so often delivered them out of undesirable situations before and led the way to the destruction of multiple behemoth Zeon assault carriers not so long before. "At this speed, it's going to crash into the base...!" "Why hasn't it blown up yet..." Corini growled, tightly gripping the armrests of his chair. The screens were showing numerous missile strikes in the immediate proximity to the unidentified object's location; the concussive blasts alone should have annihilated any kind of re-entry vehicle... "Oh, shit," the logistical officer began. "Admiral, there's a huge particle spike coming from that object!" ...could that thing be a mobile armor?! Corini exclaimed privately. "Whatever isn't shooting already, start now!" Lord, let all who rejoice at my calamity and exalt themselves against me be clothed with shame and dishonor. Give rapture to my justice. The mega particle cannon had finished charging; it was just a matter of lining up the Apsaras' descent for an ideal trajectory straight into the center of the fortified mountain which would totally collapse the entire arrangement. In moments, Lucas would be at the necessary altitude. Aircraft were launching from the concealed runways and the aircraft carrier docked nearby, looking to Lucas like ants scurrying away from a doomed hive. Another missile rocked the Apsaras, causing warning indicators to begin popping up at the peripherals of his screens. The damage was superficial - even a direct hit might not be sufficient to bring down the heavily-armored monstrosity he was falling towards Earth in. Lord, make them feel true terror, and let them remember that they are naught but men. A buzzer announced he'd reached the optimal firing position, and Lucas' thumb wavered over the firing button. In the name of truth and my loyalty, I will subject them to my retribution. Amen! The Apsaras was slammed backwards as a massive lance of pale-blue energy vomited forth from the great orifice in its frontal face, evaporating a pair of fighters that were rushing forward to meet him. The beam struck rock and began reducing it to bits of flying molten glass in an instant, and tracked across the mighty lump of granite towards the open concourse. "...th...that's a beam weapon!" Captain Jacobs exclaimed, seeing the blue streak impact Gibraltar's craggy surface and rapidly tracking towards his location. He was awestruck, but only for a moment. "It's coming this way!!" someone yelled. "Abandon ship! All hands, abandon ship!" Jacobs barked, coming to his feet. The world went white a moment later as he and the Lackluster Fortune were rent to atoms. Then, suddenly, the beam sputtered and died, and a blast of black smoke issued from the lumpy green object it had emitted from. The tarmac had been melted, but the base proper was spared, much to the shock of Federal soldiers and personnel who had moments before been making peace with themselves. "There's been a failure in the mega particle cannon's cooling system!" "Communications are out, we can't raise Private Marcolini!" "The Minovsky-craft system has been damaged!" Ghinius looked on in horror as the formerly bank of uniform green indicators rapidly fell like dominoes, turning red in waves of error reports. Then, abruptly, they went blank. "All flight recording data has ceased transmitting..." "Damn...!" Lucas exclaimed in a guttural growl, fighting to maintain control of the mobile armor. A massive explosion had torn through the side of the Apsaras' body as the mega particle cannon failed, gutting much of the control and equalization interface for the Minovsky-craft compressor. A huge brown scar ran across the surface of Gibraltar, but the little gray peaks where the base itself poked out had been saved by a hair's breadth, at least as far as he could see. Now tumbling out of control, the Apsaras toppled over to one side and began spinning, parts flying out the back of it like confetti. Lucas saw, to his chagrin, that he was now rapidly - and uncontrollably - descending towards the deck of the moored carrier. "It's coming down on top of us!" the Everest's logistics officer hollered. Corini leaned forward in his chair, face stretched in anger and confusion. Then, miraculously, when he could plainly see the face of a Zaku staring through the bridge windows at him, another gush of black smoke erupted from the bottom of the machine, and its downward velocity halted. With flames billowing out of a great rend in its side, the monstrosity simply dangled above the deck of his ship like a misshapen pinyata. The crew was silent, and the muffled clanging noises of mobile armor components plinking to the deck were audible. "...what are you all waiting for, shoot it!" Corini yelled. The twin-barreled main gun of the Himalaya-class rotated roughly ninety degrees and pointed its cannons upward slightly. There was a blast and a roar as the heavy artillery fired, and the bulbous mobile armor caught the near point-blank salvo against its relatively undamaged side. It was gone in an instant, sailing off the port side of the carrier like a kicked football at the beginning of a game. It flew through the air, still leaking bits and pieces of itself all the while and trailing a substantial cloud of smoke behind it, for several miles at least before plummeting towards the ocean. There was a splash, and, improbably, the thing appeared again, now skipping across the water like a child's stone! It continued on in this matter until it was nearly out of view. "...um... enemy mobile armor has been... neutralized..." the officer stated falteringly, rising up from a cowering position behind his duty station. "Should... should we dispatch the Don Escargots to... verify that...?" the crew chief asked. Corini, utterly baffled by what he'd just seen, did not answer. Ghinius continued staring at static. The signal remained dead. "...sir, perhaps it would be best if-" Norris began, but was abruptly cut off. "Call Alexandria!! I want planes in the air, now!!" he screamed. "Find the prototype!! FIND MY APSARAS!!" Lucas Marcolini: 7 VP gained, 5 days damage Despite the good weather on the South American continent, an uneasy feeling of dread grips the pilots of the 151st Fighter Division. The two Fly Mantas flew in formation; high enough from the ground to be safe while "looking" like a patrol. The Tin Cods of the 198th Fighter Division have been attacked twice with losses and no one has seen anything of the vanished 183rd Armored Division. All that was left of the Type 61s' patrol area is a raging forest fire. They banked together on their planned course when suddenly the world around burst into flames. Hidden by the depths of the ocean, the U-936 shutters as eight pillars ascend from her vertical launch tubes. Bursting from the waves, the missiles flew into the air where their separated from their first stage boosters and went screaming towards the 151st Fighter Division. The first Fly Manta exploded as explosions warps its fuselage like children clay. The second one tumbles out of the sky but manages to fight its way out of a dive before it hits the ground. The Earth Federation pilot managed to briefly give thanks to the aircraft's high thrust-to-weight ratio before everything came apart. Like an assassin from the shadows, the blue form of a Gouf leaps from the jungle canopy at the Federal aircraft. Kalila Darwesh, of the Mobile Assault Force of Zeon, draws her heat sword from its scabbard in mid-air. Clutching the sword with both hands, Darwesh swings. A wave of heat trails behind the blade as it burns its way down the center axis of the Fly Manta. The plane came apart like a peeling banana and exploded even before Darwesh landed. The Somalian German stood up and watches the debris fall in the distance. Everything went according to plan. Kalila Darwesh 3 VP gained, no damage |