Mobile Suit Gundam SEED ETERNITY

Phase 02 - The Vedlow Fleet

"We'll need to move our docking operation elsewhere," said the bearded, swarthy man on the Star One's bridge, distinctly out of place in his Earth Alliance service coat. "An Alliance patrol often passes through this sector. They came through about thirty hours ago and they shouldn't be due back for another six to eight, but I'm sure you understand that we'd rather not take any chances."

"Of course," agreed Meyrin. "We should probably move to the Debris Belt. Even if they spot us, they'd have to reach us to do anything about it, and that's easier said than done."

Ali Salaam al-Husayn nodded his agreement. "It's best to keep a low profile anyway," he went on, "after that debacle at Carpentaria." He shrugged, as Meyrin's thoughts clouded over with the bitter memories of utter, stupefying defeat. "At least you escaped."

"It cost the lives of everyone on the Anzac," Abbey said quietly.

"A lot of people died in that battle who didn't deserve to," he replied. "The important thing is that some of us have escaped and there's something to rebuild from." He shrugged. "And in space, we're still going strong."

There was that, at least. "We'll follow your lead," Meyrin said.

"Then lead we will," Ali agreed. "Star One, out."

Meyrin sat back and hoped. The Vedlow Fleet was the professional part of the Resistance, she reminded herself; Commander Vedlow had forged from a bunch of criminals, ZAFT veterans, disaffected Alliance soldiers, drifters, and rebels a disciplined and talented fighting force. They were capable of taking on squadrons of Alliance Space Force warships and they often won. The fleet had two refit Nelson-class battleships, a Laurasia-class frigate, and five refit Drake-class destroyers. It had dozens of mobile suits and a small space fortress sequestered in the Debris Belt. It was on good terms with virtually all of the Resistance's leaders.

But it also had ghosts and demons. The Junius War had strewn those all over the Earth Sphere, even aboard the Minerva. Some were stronger than others, and Meyrin forced down her fear at the thought that Commander Vedlow's ghosts were the stronger ones.

"I hate being in space," groaned Roxy.

In the crew lounge, Athrun and Viveka shared a glance and then dared to look back at Roxy. The red-haired comm officer was fiddling with a zero-g bottle and a white bottle of some European beer neither of them had seen before.

"Err, dare I ask why?" Athrun finally ventured.

"Booze is not meant to be drank through a goddamn straw," Roxy groused. "But you can't do it any other way in zero-g, or else it'll go in your eyes and that fucking hurts." She unscrewed the lid and then flailed after it as it floated from her grasp. "And that keeps happening!"

Athrun shook his head. "Am I the only one who's been in zero-g a lot?"

"I told you I'd kick your ass if you laughed at me," Viveka shot back, and even frustrated Roxy had to stop and snicker at that. "Hey, you too!" Viveka added with a glare.

"I've been in zero-g enough," Roxy answered with a shrug. "I just haven't been drinking in zero-g enough. So I thought I'd see how it works."

"About as well as it does on Earth," said Athrun with a shrug of his own. "Don't get too hammered, though. We're going to be linking up with the Star One soon, and we need you to be at least a little sober for it."

Roxy waved the white little bottle contemptuously. "This shit's ten percent alcohol by volume. It'll take more than that to get me plastered."

Viveka sat back. "Hey, we're going to Terminal soon, aren't we?"

"Something like that."

"And they build mobile suits there?"

Athrun arched an eyebrow. "...something like that. Why?"

"'cuz," Viveka said with a grin, "I want a new one!"

"Uh, I don't think it's gonna work that way," Athrun started.

"Man, women just get needier and needier these days," chuckled Roxy.

"Shut your hole. It's important." Viveka turned back towards Athrun. "They are building a new mobile suit, aren't they?"

Athrun put a hand to his chin in thought. "Yes," he said, "but it's probably meant for Emily. Chiao Xu and Copland have plans for her."

At that, Viveka's excited grin vanished. "Like what?"

"Like they want to make her into something like Shinn," Athrun explained. "She's getting a reputation for it already, but especially now, with the Earthside Resistance in tatters. They'll need all the heroes they can get."

"But so where the hell did they get a new mobile suit from?" Roxy asked.

"They were building it already and they just converted it, according to specs that Meyrin's sent in," Athrun said. "If we're going to Terminal anytime soon, it will be to pick that thing up."

Viveka heaved a melodramatic sigh. "My little sister's growing up so fast."

Athrun did not laugh, instead reaching out with his senses to find Emily on the ship.

That she is.

Stella floated over her trusty Gaia Gundam in the Minerva's hangar, staring contemplatively at it. Not far away, Sting and Auel watched her, shared a glance, and shrugged. There was no use trying to figure her out.

"Stella remembers space," she started. "There's scary things up here."

Auel snorted in laughter. "There's nothing up here scarier than you," he chuckled.

"Well, something like that," Sting added. "You should get some sleep. We're gonna be on standby here while the others are meeting with Vedlow."

"Okay," Stella mumbled, and turned to move towards the gantry. Sting sighed quietly and watched her go.

"Rumor mill says we're going to attack Althea soon." He glanced meaningfully at Auel. "You know what goes on there."

Auel shuddered. "Bunch of fuckers if you ask me."

"I guess it's important," Sting went on. "Like, we couldn't get away with not doing it. 'cuz the Alliance makes Extended, and Extended do so much damage to us. But still..."

"Can't decide if it's gonna be fun or if it's gonna hurt."

"Exactly."

They both fell silent. Their horrors had all come from Lodonia Island, but they had spent a bit of time at Althea as well, before Captain Lee had taught them to be free. And now they were free, but there were hundreds of Extended at various stages of alteration and training at Althea Crater.

"We'll probably have to kill them," Sting spoke up suddenly, and Auel looked over sharply at him. "I mean, think about it. We needed Lee to basically run down our block words and break our dependencies, and both of us have the benefit of not really being as dependent as Stella. We'd need someone to do that for hundreds of Extended from Althea. We're not gonna have that. And without that, they'll either die themselves when the organ shutdowns kick in, or they'll get killed in the battle, or they'll go crazy and have to be put down." He shrugged. "Is there some other way?"

"What's the point of all this if we can't save any of them?" Auel shot back. "Why'd we run away, then?"

Sting glanced down at the Chaos and struggled to find an answer.

Aoma Vedlow was a ZAFT Red. She had been assigned to the Minerva as one of Shinn Asuka's replacements after the Battle of Arzachel Crater. She left after Solomon's Sword, struck out on her own, and now commanded a famous Resistance outfit.

And, Shinn knew from the furious presence on the Star One, she had never forgiven him for killing her friend at Orb.

But she was just one of many ghosts and pits of rage he had left around the Earth Sphere. Argus and his men had been foolish enough to act on it, and now they were rotting on the ocean floor for it. Aoma Vedlow was not that foolish, but she was still angry, and still in pain.

Shinn closed his eyes. Everything was coming back now. ZAFT had returned, and with them returned the memories of Lunamaria and Rey. In different ways, he had been unable to save either of them. He had been too angry, too impulsive, too caught up in his own powers. He had let Luna tag along at Solomon's Sword, only to see Rey kill her once and for all; he had failed to talk Rey over to his own side, the side where he belonged, so they could fight together, like it was meant to be. Rey had always offered him guidance, security, an anchor in the stormy seas of a life in flux. But he had felt anger instead, that Rey had sided with Dullindal instead; that Rey had never understood. They were Newtypes. They should have understood.

But as Shinn looked ahead and felt the burning presence of ZAFT at L5, he knew that they did not, and no one would— because now they were all ghosts, and ghosts never argued.

"So," Emily said quietly in the Star One's hangar, "that's the Impulse."

At her side floated Viveka, and they both regarded the silent gray Gundam standing before them. The Star One's cramped hangar had three weapon packs for the machine's back, and there was a small airplane on the floor before it that seemed to be folded up and destined for the machine's torso.

"Whoever decided that you should have to put a Gundam together in midair should be shot," Viveka put in. "Seriously, that's so stupid."

Emily looked into the Impulse's darkened eyes. This was the machine Shinn had piloted, as he made his name and his powers blossomed. He had used it once or twice in simulator matches, and even without a mothership launching replacement parts and Silhouette packs, it made for a formidable foe.

She thought back to Shinn's tenure in the Junius War and his reputation now. Then, he was the Traitor Asuka, the man who turned his back on his country and constantly bested the comrades sent to destroy him. Now, he was the hero of the Resistance— and Emily herself seemed to be joining him on that miserable pedestal. How had he handled it during the Junius War, spending his time with space pirates and Lacus Clyne's private militia? How did he handle it now, as the symbol of hope for millions of oppressed people throughout the Earth Sphere? How was she going to handle it?

Emily glanced over at her sister as a hand shook her back to reality. "What's wrong, Em?" Viveka asked. "You've got that spacey look on your face, like Stella or something."

That was a frightening thought. "Tired," she said, and hoped her sister would buy it. She did not.

"Well, don't go zoning out in here," Viveka warned, and jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "They're moving shit around in here. It's dangerous."

"So noted," Emily answered. She turned her eyes back towards the slumbering Impulse.

Well, Shinn Asuka had taken the power he never wanted and made it his own. She would do the same. She was the Angel of Death, the Resistance's heroine, and now that ZAFT had returned to the Earth Sphere and the Earthside Resistance lay shattered, she was more important than ever.

And that was a feeling she hated.

Rau Le Creuset grinned wolfishly from his chair. The main computer of the Star One held all sorts of interesting information culled by the various intelligence operatives of Terminal and the Vedlow Fleet. Aoma's men had let him in here without question. After all, he was the great masked ZAFT ace of the Valentine War and the Junius War. What ill intent could he possibly have?
Speaking of the devil, ZAFT was certainly doing its damnedest to set itself up as the greatest of all evils in the Earth Sphere. Even the worst of Lord Djibril's flunkies would not shoot at unarmed civilian ships unless they had a reason. And, he suspected, if Valentine and Kira's hand were behind this plot, neither would ZAFT forces. They had a purpose too. He already had a few guesses, but when he boiled it all down he found that he really did not find it critically important.

Instead, there was the ZAKU Goliath. The Star One's databanks were disappointingly silent on that final monstrosity to spring from the mind of Gilbert Dullindal, but Rau remained undeterred. Dullindal's Destiny Plan had been multifaceted, and his ultimate weapon, the ZAKU Goliath, was meant to serve as the sentinel of the Coordinators and all others who lived in space as they evolved into Newtypes. Funding, technological hurdles, and ZAFT's deteriorating military position prevented its construction, but Valentine's minions had spirited away a copy of the machine's plans to Mars. And clearly she was going to use it. The thing was the very Platonic form of destruction descended upon mortals, so that they might know the essence of destruction in its purest incarnation.

But the ZAKU Goliath needed a powerful Newtype to coordinate its various weapons. It was a one man army, but that one man needed an extraordinary mind. And, feeling Emily's flickering presence on the ship somewhere, he knew one already waiting.

In the meantime, however, he had other loose ends in need of attendance, like poor little Kira. Valentine had twisted him into something new, and Rau was eager to find out what.

"Althea Crater," said Ali with a stunned sigh. "That's a tough one."

Standing nearby on the Star One's bridge, Athrun Zala nodded solemnly. "Well, we have to do something to make up for Carpentaria."

"Yes, but Althea? That's where they make their Extended. There aren't many targets in the Earth Sphere better defended than that."

"No, there aren't," Athrun agreed, "but still..." He shook his head. "Damn it. I wish I agreed with the Resistance's leadership more often."

Ali cast a skeptical glance out the bridge windows. "I think I know what's going on here. Chiao Xu is angling for a meeting with ZAFT to discuss an alliance. But after that disaster at Carpentaria, we're going to have to prove to them that we're actually a creditable fighting force." He shrugged. "Hence, Althea. I still think it's foolish. But that's my guess."

Athrun shrugged. "I suppose we don't really have a choice. We lost a lot down there."

"Yes," Ali said, "but let's make sure the same doesn't happen here." He swept a hand towards the bridge windows, where the vast twisting Debris Belt lay. "The Alliance has been hunting for Terminal for months. There's too much we'd be putting at risk."

At that, Athrun merely sat back and rubbed his temples. "I know, I know," he answered. "But if we don't make a move, someone else will." He cast a glance of his own in the direction of L5, and the pulsing, twisting mass of hatred at its center. "And it'll probably be even worse."

Tension rippled up through the air as Shinn Asuka rounded a corner and came face to face with Aoma Vedlow. Shinn blinked in surprise at the palpable feeling of rage bubbling underneath her surface, barely contained. That, he recalled vaguely, was his fault; he had killed her best friend in the Junius War, and so...

"For what it's worth," he said quietly as she marched past, "I'm sorry."

With a flash of red hair, Aoma whirled around, slammed Shinn against the bulkhead with one hand, and drew a pistol from her jacket with the other to point it against his throat.

"Sorry? You're sorry?" she snarled, and Shinn almost shivered as he looked into her eyes and found pure, seething hatred. "I'm glad you're sorry, but that doesn't bring him back, now does it?" She tightened her grip on his jacket. "I knew him since we were both three months old, you bastard. We went to school together. We grew up together. We joined ZAFT together." She jammed the gun up into his throat. "And then we got assigned to the Minerva and you spent two months taking him away from me, piece by piece, as he got more and more obsessed with defeating you, and then you finally killed him. So," her eyes flashed with fury, "I'm glad you're sorry, but it really doesn't mean a goddamn thing to me."

Shinn squirmed. "So you're going to kill me?"

Aoma scowled and shoved the gun back into her coat. "That's the worst part of this. If you were just an ordinary man on the street, you'd be dead by now. But you're not. You're," her face twisted into a sneer, "important." She pushed him back against the wall and let him go. "Don't speak to me. Or else next time I might not remember that you're important."

And with that, Aoma stormed off down the hallway, leaving Shinn behind.

The gleaming twilight sun washed over Yokosuka, and from the gantry overlooking the warship dock, Ivan Danilov cast a pensive glance over his titanic warship. The Charlemagne lay in wait and under repair, and he could hardly wait to get back onto the battlefield— against the Earth Alliance's real enemy. Regardless of their plans, ZAFT was unambiguously committing atrocities. Whether it was bait or something else, Danilov did not care; his soul yearned for the unambiguous battle his mighty warship deserved.

Standing on the gantry, he cast a glance over at Vera in the dying sunlight. His faithful executive officer seemed similarly excited about the prospect of facing the Earth Alliance's perennial enemy.

And yet, there still remained loose ends.

"What do you think the Minerva will do, Vera?" he asked suddenly, catching her by surprise.

"If their actions against other Resistance units is any indication," she said after a moment's thought, "they'll probably not side with ZAFT. Even if the rest of the Resistance does."

"If the Resistance even acts as one unit anymore," Danilov added. "If there's anything left of them on Earth to do so."

Of course there were Resistance forces left on Earth. Not all of them had made their way into that deathtrap of Carpentaria. And surely some of them would decide to try to ally themselves with ZAFT. But what use could ZAFT have for the demoralized guerrillas that had only scored glancing blows against an Earth Alliance that had just decisively crushed them?

"So that raises an awkward potential problem for us," Danilov said. "The Minerva deserted from ZAFT, and ZAFT's survivors do not forget that sort of thing. They're also launching attacks on civilians, which the Minerva will probably not tolerate. So we have the possibility on our hands that the Minerva could become the enemy of our enemy." He glanced over at Vera. "What would you do?"

"That doesn't make them not our enemy," Vera said darkly. "The instant ZAFT is dealt with, they'll be firing at us again."

Danilov looked to the sky and wondered. Until now he had fought the Minerva as his enemy— indeed, that was the very purpose of his ship. But still, some part of him remained hopeful that the Minerva would side with him.

After all, it was a long time since he had fought a battle where good and evil were clear. And Ivan Danilov missed that.

Dropping them just like that, are you?

Sven Cal Bayan ground his teeth as he stomped through the mobile suit bays of Yokosuka. That damned child just would not leave him alone.

I will no longer need them, he shot back. I required them to make up for the Noir's deficiencies against the Destiny. Now that the Crusader is on its way, I will no longer need additional bodies getting in my way during a fight.

The child skipped along at his side and laughed sardonically. Two things, my incorrigible elder self, he chuckled. First of all, you must have already forgotten that stuff they said in our training, about how having a team is important. And second—

As if I need your advice, Sven snarled back, and shook his head. That would not shut the child up, but he put his iron military discipline to work and trenchantly ignored the insufferable child. Why the buried vestiges of his conscience had taken on his own childhood face as its avatar was beyond him, but sooner or later he would root out and destroy those last remains, just as he would the last remnants of the Resistance.

At that, he turned his thoughts towards space. Operation Typhoon had wiped out most of the Resistance's fighting strength on Earth...but in space they were intact, they had more professional leaders, they had better hiding places, they had more dangerous weapons...and now they had ZAFT introducing chaos. The Resistance thrived on chaos, as surely as it created it. ZAFT, for all its evils, still brought order— of its own twisted kind, but order nonetheless. ZAFT had leaders, the PLANTs had laws, the Coordinators had boundaries, and although they were his enemy, they were not his antithesis.

But not the Resistance. They were chaos itself, and they made a mockery of the carefully-constructed world for which the Alliance had paid in blood and treasure in two wars with ZAFT, both of them risking the very Earth itself. They would tear down this careful system and replace it with their own profane visions of the future.

ZAFT could be dealt with. ZAFT was a familiar enemy, an enemy that worked and thought on the same terms as himself. They wanted something and would take every step necessary to get it. But the Resistance was something else, and that Sven Cal Bayan swore to destroy. And the first step was to destroy their hero, the Gundam with the gleaming wings of light, the Destiny. Smashing the Resistance at Carpentaria had been a wonderful start— but now their hero needed to fall.

Sven clenched his teeth as he headed back for the Charlemagne. He would destroy the Resistance and restore order to the world...because, after all, that was why he existed this way now, as Captain Sven Cal Bayan of the Phantom Pain, and not as that little boy who wanted to see the stars. Because he was part of a system, and he had been given meaning.

He pushed the child back down.

"Why does it have to turn into a dog?" moaned Shams Coza as he studied the plans for his forthcoming Vanguard Gundam on a data pad with Mudie at his side. "Couldn't they leave me with some dignity?"

Mudie's lips twisted into a wicked grin. "It suits you," she said after moment. "On the pool table you're always my bitch."

"Oh, go eat a dick," Shams shot back.

All things considered, the Vanguard was not a bad-looking mobile suit. It was an evolution of the old Calamity Gundam, carrying a sniper rifle instead of that bazooka, and it had increased agility and even some limited atmospheric flight capability. It just also happened to transform into a quadruped mode that made Shams' flesh crawl. So what if a four-legged configuration was superior for ground combat? Two legs were all Shams Coza needed, damn it.

Of course, Mudie had lucked out with her nimble, graceful, thruster-laden Artemis Gundam. And they both knew that Shams was the real winner here with his imposing Crusader. Still, Sven would need Shams and Mudie on the battlefield. The Artemis had close combat specialties and the Vanguard had long range firepower. The Crusader could cover both, but it could not be in three places at once.

Shams thought back bitterly to his experience at Carpentaria, taken down by the Destiny in a brutal fight. Was that his lot in this war? Just getting his ass kicked again and again?

He glanced over at Mudie, watching her as she studied the Vanguard's specs. Not many things kept her attention like this, the capabilities of her battlefield partner's new machine, and at that Shams began to wonder.

And at that, he began to hope that the Artemis would be good enough— not to keep up with Sven, but to keep her safe.

To be continued...