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Two forms passed through the tunnels, clad in rust red robes. It had been a long time since either had been to Amador, although their journeys had been much different. Jonas Keller had traveled the fringe of the red planet, gathering followers from every abandoned waterhole, every disgraced mining site. There were entire towns full of people eager to join the cause, whom the Tories had forgotten even existed. One by one, Keller added their pieces to the puzzle that was his growing plan. Jacobin Conroy had traveled the fringe, visiting both Earth and the Asteroid Belt. He was now possibly the single most well traveled man on Mars, and definitely the man with the most combat experience. He had fought tanks, Marines, even mobile suits. His travels with Samuel Riley had earned a pretty penny, and the war experience Keller would need for the upcoming day of liberation. Jacobins prize had been offered to Keller a few days before, the interplanetary transport craft, renamed the Lunatics Dream, had been reposessed from the pirates. It was another piece of the puzzle. However, Jacobin, his men, and a single ship was not enough to incite a rebellion. The Cosmoport at Amador was well guarded, and the Torie Marines were tough, most bred on Martian soil just as the rest of them. The Free Men would not be able to win this battle with brute force alone. But here, deep within the mining tunnels at the lowest levels of Amador, lied Kellers greatest advantage. The mines of Amador City were extensive, going deep within the bowels of Olympus Mons. Thousands upon thousands of disadvantaged, second class citizens lived in these dank halls, slowly carving living space out of areas that had been mined out, and slowly increasing the length of the tunnels as they mined new material. The light here was all artificial. The air was cold and dusty. People were born and raised here, they went to school here. If they were extremely lucky they would obtain enough of a scholarship to attend university at the higher levels. But few were given that chance. The working conditions, and the pay, kept entire families here for generations, while the Tories lived above, enjoying the one reasonable cityscape Mars had to offer. The upper levels of Amador were as pristine as any lunar city or space colony interior, with parks and lakes, artificial rural expanses. It was an artificial dream world, one used to convince labor advocacy groups on Earth that things were not as bad as some might believe. In truth, the things outside were much worse. The two travelled through the passageway, which was cold, but not exactly lifeless. Miners stopped and watched as they passed, the cheap flourescent lighting showing their faces behind their red ochre robes. The walls of the tunnel had a similar color, and indeed this color was completely intertwined with all that was Mars. Their clothing was both a form of camouflage, and a badge of solidarity and respect for their planets ruby bosom. Jonas Kellers face was quickly recognized as the two walked through the tunnel, but nobody would sound an alarm. He was a terrorist, a wanted man. He was the most dangerous man on Mars. At least, that was what they thought above. Down here he was a hero, a leader. He was the one who would take back what was rightfully theirs. Jacobins face was not well known to these men, for his home lied far to the north, in the desolate town of Stillwater. But still, Conroys murderous ice-blue eyes earned him a great deal of respect. Even amongst the giants of the Martian Free Men, Jacobin Conroy was a fighter to be feared. What the Tories didn't know was that some mining tunnels at the base of the mountain had actually punctured the outer husk of the red Earth. Engineers had quickly closed the holes, keeping the atmospheric pressure stable. However, Jonas had spent a large amount of money, and called in many favors, in order to keep these holes secret. Just another piece to add to Jonas's grand puzzle. Indeed, it was nearly complete. Jonas Keller: 1 CP Gained, No Damage Jacobin Conroy: 1 CP Gained, No Damage The war is ending. The world seems so much more peaceful than ever before. A year of apocalyptic war is finally closing and the healing can begin. People can now begin to come back to the lives they knew before the war and rebuild what they lost. Families can be reunited and humanity's intelligentsia can focus on something other than killing. But the war didn't end yet. It is only ending. Transport across the Atlantic Ocean is very much the same as it was centuries ago. Heavy freight must be moved by ships. The arrival of air transport only helped the movement of men and light machines. Large and heavy equipment like armor and mobile suits must resort to metal bath tubs for their voyage. Which is where the South African underwater patrol known as the Green Crabs found Private Charles Gano late in the afternoon. The GMPGT pilot is catching a nap in the shade of his cockpit door when suddenly the freighter rocked hard. The experienced Goggs of the Green Crabs closed in from below. The skies are absent of the pesky Don Escargots or any other escorts for that matter. This is more of a turkey shoot than anything. Round after round ate through the huge transport. The only reason why it didn't utterly collapse is its sheer size. Gano yelled at his MS Team pilots to get into escape craft or their mobile suits. The tossing and turning platform made the GMPGT pilot land badly as he struggled to get inside his own mobile weapon. Finally, the freighter tore itself apart as the welding on the hull plates cracked open. The Goggs quickly left the scene, confident that they score a total victory on whatever the Federal Forces was trying to sneak in on a lonely boat. They did not see the handful of ground mobile suits bobble in the water, thankful that they do have SOME bouyancy after all. Charles Gano - 3 VP Gained, Repairing 2 Injured 2 For the past few days, life went on as normal in the Zeon base of Granada. The reality of the situation is hard to digest. The personnel at Zeon's prime research facility witnessed wonder after wonder roll off the drawing boards from the Zeonic and Zimmad Corporation. They studied the specs and compared them to what they knew of the Federal arsenals. The numbers and analysis fully supported their belief that their work is superior to the hated Federation. But reality works in mysterious ways. The newest Zeon designs were indeed superior to Federal technology. But the cost of such wonder weapons were so immense that Zeon is forced to relied on their obsolete Zaku II Fs at the Battle of A Bao A Qu. Only the few ace pilots and veterans left got the privelege to pilot the newest Gelgoog. Of the defending Zeon forces, only the Zeon Expeditionary Force could boast a significant deployment of the superior Rick Dom II mobile suits. Suddenly an announcement is made throughout the sealed fortress that froze everyone in place. The Federal delegation is here. There has been murmurs of "last stands" and glorious resistance among the Zeon ranks. But none of that would happen thanks to the last minute intervention of the Lunar Management Corporation. Previously, the LMC had stayed out of the Duchy of Zeon's way. In the interest of preventing a rain of destruction on Luna at the closing moments of the OYW, LMC private security teams are deployed in full strength. Nor is Zeon going to surrender without dignity. As the Federation shuttle lands on the floor of the immense hangar, the delegation is welcomed by an honor guard of the MAF. The entire command staff is there, all of them were handpicked by Kycilia Zabi to run the base in her absence. At least the Federal delegation is respectful. The delegation returns the salute given to them by the high ranking Zeon officers. Then, after an awkward moment, the Zeon hosts guided their Federal guests to a conference room where representatives of the Lunar Management Corporation were already waiting... The war has finally come to an end for Granada. |