Mobile Suit Gundam SEED New Theatrical Version

PHASE-02: Prototype

1

25 January, CE 71

Katsuragi Misato flashed back into consciousness to find, amidst a sodding brilliant headache, Major Natarle Badgiruel sprawled across her abdomen, and that the lights had blown. Being fluent in Japanese, the Queen's English, and Mandarin, it was with a rather colourful multi-ethnic vocabulary together with a mean amount of effort that she eased Natarle's inert form off her without regurgitating her lunch.

"Badgiruel!" Misato hissed, slapping the major not-so-gently across the cheek. "Oi, major!"

Natarle began to stir, and her lips parted. "Goddammit, Katsuragi!" she slurred loudly, as she slowly limped back into the realm of the living. "Stop hitting me." Wincing, she sat herself up slowly.

It was then that the green pallor of the emergency strips flooded the corridor. Groaning in relief, Misato picked herself up, then extended a hand to Natarle.

"Fuck this shit," Natarle said angrily, as Misato hauled her up. "That was ZAFT, wasn't it?"

"We won't know very soon, but I'm willing to bet the Archangel on that."

As soon as she was up, Natarle rounded on Misato. "You sure there aren't any tattlers over at your side?" she seethed.

"We've been through this before, and personally I think I should be asking you that question," Misato said tiredly. "NERV is a large organisation with more than five hundred staff, but only the crew here are aware of the G-weapons. Every single member has been vetted, and I can personally vouch for our officers."

Natarle's fists clenched. "I apologise for being accusatory, then," she said stiffly. "But you should know where I'm coming from. How the hell did ZAFT even think to attack this particular drydock, and not the one where we planted the decoy?"

"We won't know. Hell, they probably just went and shat bombs all over the damn place." Misato began to walk, beckoning for Natarle to do the same. "C'mon, no time to waste now." As they walked, Misato's mind turned through the events that had transpired since picking Shinji up from Heliopolis Commercial. That was, how everything had gone to hell and never returned.

Had everything gone to plan, NERV Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki Kozo – Commander Ikari Gendo's next-in-command – would have returned with his team more than an hour ago with the EVAs. They had preceded the AtFed team, which was led by a Major Murrue Ramius of the 8th Fleet 221st Moebius Zero Squadron and tasked with the lifting of all five G-weapons, MS equipment, and spare parts from the Morgenroete storage facility in the Tannenbaum city district. ZAFT had struck almost immediately after Fuyutsuki and his crew exited the place, infantry and GINNs swarming like flies to carrion; NERV had limped on ahead until the transport vehicles broke down right on the border of the Tannenbaum district – Fuyutsuki's SOS to the Archangel was the last they had heard of him. On the other hand, the most recent contact any one had had of the G-weapons team was a WhatsApp message from Murrue Ramius to Natarle at seven this morning, asking for a green tea frappucino from the Starbucks in the Magallanica staff cantina when she got back from Tannenbaum, five minutes before she'd disembarked from the ship with her men.

At the end of the corridor was a set of double steel doors, which led straight into the command centre of the Archangel. A biometric scanner and keypad secured the way in, but with the main power offline they were now no more useful than the wall-mounted recycled e-waste art exhibits Misato had seen a while back.

The bridge was a single ship-floor split into two mezzanine decks connected by two short flights of staircases flanking both sides of the compartment. The doors opened out to the lower deck, which held both the captain and pilot's console together with the combat information centre, while on the top deck were the navigation and radar terminals. At this moment, all six members of the bridge crew were gathered at the front round the 3D projection array table, all looking groggy and the worse for wear.

The group was an eclectic mix of NERV khaki and Fed Navy white, but Misato knew all of their names. "Ibuki, Neumann, Aoba, Hyuga, Tonomura, Romero," she called out.

"Captain on deck," Lieutenant Ibuki Maya of NERV announced, and everyone snapped into sharp salute.

"At ease," Misato said. "All of you still alive, I suppose?"

"With due respect, ma'am," Chief Petty Officer Arnold Neumann of the AtFed 8th Fleet said, "but it feels like a herd of elephants has trodden all over our heads."

Misato grinned. "So do I, but tough luck. This damn tincan is launching, so back to your stations!" Misato instructed. "On a side note, anyone saw the commander?"

"He went back to his officer earlier," Maya answered. "We gave him a call once we got the auxiliary power online – he seems to be OK."

"That's good to hear, thanks." Misato strode over to the centre, where her throne stood waiting for her. Easing herself into the swivel seat, she then tapped a button on the console screen.

"All crew, this is Captain Katsuragi Misato," she spoke into the wireless. "All hands, prepare for launch."

2

The bombings had collapsed more than half of the drydock, with the most rubble concentrated at the front between the Archangel and the main hatch leading out to the runways. The hatch itself was welded shut, and could not be opened even with the manual overrides. On the other hand, even practically buried alive the Archangel had maintained 100% hull integrity, and the only significant damage even the computers could discern was the paint job at both the port and starboard-side stabiliser fins.

All these Ritsuko found out from her NERV-issue tablet, which was connected to live feeds from the ship's cameras and scanners. After taking a fiver to nurse the swollen lumps that had sprouted over their heads when the shockwaves had cracked their heads against the gangway, she and Shinji had then hobbled over to the engineering bay, a central module built into the hexagonal ceiling enclosing what had long been declared – unofficially – exclusive territory for the Archangel's technical divisions. The crewman's mess was located here, occupying a large section in one corner of the module, with the remaining space divvied between equipment storage, briefing rooms, and a snug pantry that held the largest espresso machine that Shinji had ever seen. Like what little the boy had seen of the Archangel elsewhere, everything here in the engineering bay was ivory steel and polymer, all set in futuristic curves worthy of the next-generation remakes of the Yamato and USS Enterprise, designed to elicit a semblance of space in an otherwise isolated and congested environment amidst arduous expeditions in and off-world. Enshrouded in the murky beryl of the emergency lights, however, everything now just seemed sickly and claustrophobic.

With Shinji tottering close behind, Ritsuko turned a corner into a 'holding room' – at least, that was what the label on the door said it was – an extensive compartment which held nothing but row upon row of gel-padded seats. Safety harnesses lined the edges of every seat, but otherwise there was no clue as to the role this particular chamber played in the running of the Archangel.

"Alright, we're here," Ritsuko said. "Go on, pick a seat, and strap yourself in. I'll be with you shortly."

"What is this place, Professor?" Shinji asked tentatively.

"This compartment here is one of the six that are situated across the Archangel at centralised locations," Ritsuko explained. "During launch, landing, and re-entry, all crew that are not part of the designated quick reaction force will hold up here in these rooms until the captain gives the all clear. The same as with any other commercial flight, really. Now hurry on, this place is going to be packed soon. Just save me a seat by the aisle while you're at it, alright?" With that said, she turned and exited the room, eyes back on her tablet.

She was back, however, in all but five minutes, this time with a man Shinji had never seen before. "So, this the boy, then?" the man rumbled, as he ambled behind Ritsuko towards Shinji's row. "Didn't catch your name before, Shinjiro or something, was it?"

"I'm Shinji," Shinji said quickly, not quite daring to look up at the man in the eye in spite of the jovial twinkle there. The bushiest eyebrows Shinji had ever seen waggled mischievously, but in his opinion the most defining – and, of course, most intimidating – feature about this man would most definitely be his size. Professor Akagi herself, he had observed on the way here, had stood almost half a head taller than most people they had passed by, but this man was colossal. Beneath the man's NERV coveralls sheer muscle rippled, and even half-bent he had at least a head over Ritsuko. Fleetingly, Shinji wondered if this man was the reason why the seats here seemed abnormally spacious.

Ritsuko took the empty seat by the aisle beside Shinji, while the man flopped down opposite. "Not a very good afternoon today, isn't it, Shinji?" he said, stretching out a hand. "The name's Kojiro Murdoch. Warrant Officer, NERV Technical."

Shinji shook the proffered hand, though inwardly he winced; it felt as if his fingers were being crushed. "Nice to meet you, sir," he said.

"Drop the formalities, else you'd go off sounding like the Feds," Kojiro said gruffly. "You're not a soldier in this god-forsaken ship; just call me whatever you like."

Ritsuko's fingers paused, hovering ever so slightly over her tablet's collapsible keyboard before resuming their lightning typing half a second later. None of that escaped Kojiro's eyes, however, but the only response he made was to purse his lips grumpily. Shinji, who had taken to twiddling and staring at his thumbs throughout the entire conversation, noticed nothing.

Overhead, the shipwide public announcement chimed, and Shinji perked up in his seat as the electronic rendition of Misato's voice echoed across the Archangel, "All crew, report to holding compartments; launch set to T-minus zero-zero-one-two. QRF leaders, status reports."

The announcement ended, and without further preamble Kojiro asked, "Any word from Fuyutsuki's team?"

"No update since that SOS one hour ago. All we know now is that they got separated from the G Project team whilst escaping the Tannenbaum facility. As far as everyone's concerned, nobody on our side's dead." Ritsuko then added darkly, "Yet."

"The cap'n's gonna have to cut quite a few corners from the launch protocol if we're going to make it out there on time; who knows what that will do to the reactors? Damn ZAFT to hell," the heavyset man cursed. Seeing Shinji cringe, the furrow across Kojiro's brow melted into a sheepish grin. "Sorry, didn't mean to say that out loud. Just that everything in this ship is brand new, so all of us are more than a tad protective on stuff in the premises. On a side note, I like that curious look you've going on your face – fancy a crash course on fusion physics?"

Shinji blinked in nervous confusion. "Fusion physics?"

"To be precise, nuclear fusion physics," Kojiro said. "I was part of the original team for propulsion systems back then when they first kick-started the Archangel project. Seeing that you're gonna be stuck with us for quite some time, I think it will certainly pay to have some intimate knowledge of this ship."

By then, the room was already half-occupied, the air buzzing with mingled conversation from all around. Cowed, Shinji could only nod, though Kojiro either didn't notice or just didn't give a damn. Instead, he grinned, flashing Shinji with a wide grin.

"That's the spirit!" he declared. "Now, the standard launch protocol for the Archangel differs drastically from other ships of similar builds and classes. That's because she uses a whole new brand of technology for her propulsion and power, and with that the entire process from scratch takes around only twenty minutes. The reactors themselves are mostly automated, all you have to do is press a few buttons and, viola, you've power. Repair work, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter. A total goddamn bratty bitch like – what's her name? I only know that she's from the Fed – Kim West or something, I don't care. Many delicate parts, you see. OK, so here's a question: April first, CE 70, the date mean anything to you?"

Shinji nodded. "The April Fool's Crisis," he mumbled.

"Damn right, because only the fools suffered. We were extremely lucky that our government picked up their act in time and decided to not go fully nuclear," Kojiro said. "Since then, ZAFT has regularly deployed their accursed N-Jammers, which not only stops nuclear fission but also clogs up our communications like orange peels in the toilet. That's why the Earth Alliance is losing this war: those long-range ballistic missiles and attack drones that they used to throw at each other before Bloody Valentine all just drop like flies the moment you chuck an N-Jammer into the fray. But that's a story for another day." He paused for a second. "Alright, second question: what do you think powers the Archangel?"

"Um …" Shinji said hesitantly. "Sorry, but I'm not really sure."

"Aw, come on, humour me, can you?"

"Well …" Shinji stammered. "The ship cannot be nuclear-powered, right? I mean, if the N-Jammers are still out there …"

"Right, and wrong," Kojiro said. "Like I'd said earlier, the Neutron Jammers stops nuclear fission, but only fission. This ship runs on fusion. We've another name for the Archangel's energy system: N2, or N-Square, whichever suits you, meaning 'Non-Nuclear'. A misnomer, if I may add – nuclear fusion is still nuclear, so long as we're screwing around with things at the atomic level. The N2 system is of the many gizmos one of the DSSD nutcases – some guy named Minovsky, or whatever – came up with for their space exploration and migration programmes, and they let us reverse-engineer the prototype for the Archangel."

Shinji leant slightly forward, visibly curious. "How does it work?" he asked. "My teacher told us that fusion is impossible, that's why the N-Jammers is giving everyone so much trouble."

"Not impossible, just difficult. But in the end we still managed it. Using a special helium isotope, the N2 system generates nuclear energy with almost zero neutron emission. It's a win-win situation for us. N-Jammers work by blocking movement of free neutrons, and thus have no effect on the Archangel. With zero gamma radiation, we techies can enter the engine room in just a normal suit in case of a leak. The cash and materials for nuclear shielding could then be diverted elsewhere – in the Archangel's case, N-Jammer scramblers for comms and radar," Kojiro said, finishing with a flourish.

The PA speakers crackled, "Archangel, standby for launch."

"Alright, that's our signal," Ritsuko said crisply as she promptly sheathed her tablet back into its sleeve and laid it upon her lap. Shinji's face immediately flushed red as Ritsuko reached over and tightened his harness, curdling into puce when he caught sight of pale cleavage peeking out of the edge of a thin and body-hugging black UNIQLO Airism top beneath her NERV work jacket. A few loose strands of blonde whisked past, and Shinji caught a whiff of tobacco. That, as swiftly as you can recite your zero times table, crushed the taut rebellion down at his crotch with the mercy of a despot.

Then the Archangel rumbled, a low and confident sound that only grew as theship's chassisbristled with power, but even that was muffled by rippling reverberations as the ship pried and shook itself free of the rubble that half-buried its hull. The Archangel began to move, and it was only then that the good crew of the ship realised that they had clean forgotten about the champagne.

The captain's voice came over the PA again, and all thoughts about how many sturdy a ship had ran into mishap, even tragedy, just because everyone had overlooked a goddamn bottle of bubbly liquor were diverted as Katsuragi Misato announced,

"Firing of Gottfrieds commencing in zero-zero-zero-one to break out of debris. All hands, brace for impact and possible damage to the ship."

3

Christened after one of the highest-ranked denizens of the celestial pecking order, the Archangel's might was something to behold. There was no other class of naval vessel that had an arsenal as large as the Archangel's, which was designed to provide offensive and defensive solutions to the widest complement of battle scenarios that NERV's tacticians could conceive. Twin LOHENGRIN positron cannons filling the cavities underneath the linear launch catapults were the single most powerful set of weapons the Archangel possessed, but the GOTTFRIED beam turrets had been more than sufficient in breaking through the collapsed hatches that opened into Heliopolis. Thrusters firing, the ship soared forward, bursting through churning clouds of smoke and ash out of Magallanica –

Out of a hellhole, straight into another. Entire swathes of all three Sides were ablaze, toxic black smoke coagulating in the centre of the colony in one writhing mass, having long since overpowered Heliopolis' atmospheric scrubbers. Yet it was deathly still everywhere else; as far as the Archangel could probe the smouldering carnage was all that was left of ZAFT.

"Where's everybody?" Misato said. "Romero, are our scanners clean?"

"Zilch N-Jammer interference, captain," Petty Officer, Second Class Romero Pal reported. "All city districts within range are clear of life signs and GINN signatures. The evacuation must have pulled through."

"Even so …" Lieutenant Ibuki whispered. "All this, just for five mobile suits?"

"And yet ZAFT's actions are fully justified," Lieutenant Aoba Shigeru of NERV said darkly. "Because of Orb's neutrality policy, the G Project can be viewed as an outright act of war against belligerent entities. There's nothing we can do here."

Tension swelled across the bridge, palpable and noxious. "Let's leave the geopolitics for another day," Misato said wearily. In front, Arnold Neumann fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. "We need to hurry. ZAFT has already beat it, and that could only mean they have successfully nicked or wrecked the G-weapons."

"What about your EVAs?" Natarle said sharply. "Surely they couldn't have –"

"Most probably not, but let's not get our hopes up now," Misato said. "Archangel, battle stations. All crew are released from holding. Neumann, bring us on route nine-nine-zero-sierra to Tannenbaum. Maintain present speed."

"Yes, captain."

"Tonomura, keep up the ping for the transponders on the EVAs and G-weapons. Let's hope at least one of them are still in Heliopolis."

"Yes, capt – wait," Chief Petty Officer Jackie Tonomura said. "Wait. I'm having squawk on the channel … shit, it's the Strike!"

Immediately Misato swivelled round on her seat. "Say what?" she shot back. "Put it up."

STATES OF THE ARCHANGEL flickered off the array table, and was immediately replaced by a scaled 3D schematic of Hahnenfuss district, the exact centre of which blinked – rather half-heartedly, if one might think to add – a tiny scarlet dot. "It's active," Natarle said. "Our pilots weren't due here until tomorrow. Who the hell's the operator?"

"I-I'm not sure, ma'am, I can't establish radio contact –"

"That place's just a few clicks off here," Misato said. "Neumann, you've got your next destination, but go easy on the throttle still. Do we have anything from the EVAs?"

"This just in, captain," Ibuki called out. "We have radio from Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki. In a moment –"

The speakers gave a fizzle, and Misato pressed her headset tighter against her cheek. "Archangel," rasped a tremulous voice, itself barely audible above the deafening static. "Thank the gods we finally got the radio up … goddamn ZAFT, cornered us like sewer rats … wiped out Ramius' men … EVAs intact … Strike in combat –"

"Do we have a point on their location?"

"Hahnenfuss district – the EVAs are just a hundred metres away from the Strike!"

"Don't lose your hair over it," Misato said. "Alright, this is it, folks, our first skirmish aboard the Archangel. We got visual of a lone bogey engaged with the Strike, but I still can't bloody see what it is. Any ID on the scanners?"

"ZGMF-515 CGUE, captain," Lieutenant Hyuga Makoto reported. "Bloody hell, what's a commander unit doing out here alone?"

"Beats me, but remember what they told us about ZAFT's plans to mass-produce the CGUE? This could be a prototype," Misato shot back. "Arm Helldarts, we can't fire lasers in this hellhole. Neumann, give us some speed."

"Visual on both the Strike and CGUE now, captain," Natarle spoke.

Above, the main screen lit up.

Project engineers had often proclaimed, even bragged about, the GAT-X105 Strike as the master-of-all-trades. The Striker Pack set of auxiliary armament units gave proof to the claim, allowing the MS to operate in a wide spectrum of mission parameters by conferring it the ability to swap its weaponry. For instance, the Launcher Pack augmented the Strike with heavy arms add-ons (and of course, the Launcher Strike moniker), allowing it to participate in bombardments and anti-armour operations. Aile Packs heightened speed and manoeuvrability with additional thrusters and stabiliser fins for dogfights, while Sword Packs boosted melee combat indices with a single titanium alloy sword that was actually taller than the Strike itself.

Its back to the Archangel's cameras, the Launcher Strike was knelt down on a knee, its left arm raised against gunfire spurting out from the CGUE's assault rifle. Arnold Neumann watched, almost transfixed, as armour-piercing projectiles bounced harmlessly off the Strike's chassis.

"Shit, that Phase Shift armour is really something, isn't it?" he then heard Romero Pal babble from the back.

"Keep your mind on the battle!" Natarle snapped. "Prepare tower missile tube six for firing."

"Enemy CGUE has ceased assault!"

The ivory MS popped an empty magazine from its rifle, sending it spiralling towards the ground. It did not appear to have spotted the Archangel, but with her bulk that was simply impossible. The ship was now less than a kilometre away, and it was then Misato realised that the damn pilot probably dismissed them as a proper threat. Which, unfortunately, was quite true; trapped within Heliopolis' confines, the Archangel could not fire most of her weapons without inflicting massive collateral damage to the colony.

But that did not mean that she couldn't fight. The Archangel wielded raw power far greater than any warship built by mankind; it was up to her crew to bend it to their needs.

Just then, the Strike moved.

"Hyper impulse signature expanding from the Strike!" Hyuga yelled. "Gods, that moron is gonna light that fucking stick in Heliopolis –"

"Fire missile tube six!" Misato ordered. "Fire Igelstellung and give us some dispersal fire once the missile makes contact. We need to at least bring that CGUE out of the Strike's range before the idiot fires that cannon!"

The miniaturisation of naval beam weaponry for MS use was one of the myriad technological breakthroughs wrought by the G Project. The entire G-weapon series of small and light arms were all beam-powered, producing an output that far surpassed even the heaviest armour-piercing projectile ever developed by ZAFT or the Earth Alliance military. The hyper impulse beam cannon of the Launcher Pack was one such weapon, designed by project engineers for use in siege and bombardment operations against ZAFT's asteroid bases and even the PLANTs. As such, the weapon at maximum output wielded enough power to penetrate colony walls that were designed and structured to survive asteroid impact events; certainly it was not a weapon to be wielded capriciously within the pressurised confines of space colonies.

Like Heliopolis.

A single rocket burst from its pod embedded at the base of the bridge tower, screeching down towards the CGUE's heat signature. And yet the Strike had not lowered its cannon. The goddamn pilot probably hadn't seen the missile, that the Archangel was better equipped to neutralise this threat without ripping Heliopolis half apart –

And so it fired the fucking cannon.

Everything seemed to disintegrate into oblivion as pure white light flooded Misato's retinas, nearly damn well scorching the entire pair before she unfroze herself long enough to cringe away. Sirens exploded like the torture shrieks of the condemned across the bridge, but as the light then quelled down enough for a semblance of vision to take hold, everyone's eyes only stared fixedly right ahead as the apocalypse broke loose.

The CGUE had looped forward in the nick of time, opting to sacrifice its headpiece and left arm to the lone Helldart missile as the hyper impulse beam scorched the air at the spot where it had hovered only seconds ago into plasma. Unimpeded the beam seared on upwards, and an eternity elapsed before it finally collided against the thin longitudinal strip that constituted the border between Sides 1 and 2.

Between each Side amassed one continuous spiderweb network of service lines across the border strips. Writhing steel pipes disseminated recycled air and water from the scrubbers all across the colony, while massive sprinklers regulated humidity and precipitation. Interspersed in airtight apertures at regular intervals across the entire grid were immense mirrors that filtered and reflected sunlight into even the deepest recesses in Heliopolis. It was this vital trinity that Heliopolis owed its existence to; failure in any one of the three players in this fragile balance would certainly render the entire colony into one giant wasteland as barren as Mars.

The beam struck the life support strip, barrelling through Heliopolis' titanium alloy bulkheads like a bowling ball on a strike. From whence blossomed a giant sphere of pure light, a pinkish tide of malevolent scintillation that only grew unfalteringly as it turned whatever it touched into superheated gas and plasma. Within a three hundred-metre radius everything was utterly destroyed into nothingness, the pipes and mirrors and machines beyond all melted into a shimmery slag.

Through the breach the vacuum beyond yawned, snorting manically on the billowing smoke and debris like only a junkie would. Then it widened its maw, gorging on the main course of rubble, vehicles, automatons, and anything else untethered within Heliopolis' confines. Briefly Misato saw even a golden retriever, soundless yelps drowned in the roaring winds, abandoned during the hasty evacuation by its owners, whom had surely thought they'd be returning to an intact home when ZAFT had withdrawn or was repelled by Heliopolis' defences.

Then the salvage drones swarmed in, and it all ended almost as soon as it had started. Hundreds of ablative gel pods detonated above the breach, sealing the rift with the special airtight gel that Morgenroete had reportedly sold to PLANT civil engineers and colony developers at 430 times the cost price until the patent expired in late CE 64. The tempest winds withered, and soon the sky was freckled with raining detritus.

It was then Misato realised that she'd been biting her lip until it bled. "Find us a spot to land," she said, pressing a finger to the wound, "and let's see who the hell is still alive out there."

4

25 January, CE 71

With a resounding pneumatic groan the launch gates of the Archangel yawned wide open, granting entry to both warm pristine sunshine, and the acrid tang of smoulder festering outside in Heliopolis air. Katsuragi Misato and Natarle Badgiruel watched from one side, with impassioned expressions on their faces, as the hulking form of the Strike ambled inside the ship.

Abruptly, Misato's brow furrowed in thought. "You know, Badgiruel, I just thought of something," she said without preamble. "What does the 'G' in G Project stand for?"

Natarle raised an eyebrow. "You know," she said, "I've been wondering when any one of you'd ever pop that question."

"Well, there you have it," Misato said. "Care to enlighten me?"

"The thing is, Katsuragi," she said, "the name of the G Project in itself holds no meaning. Everything about this programme was a rush job like no other, even the denomination and insignia. Though it was a consensus that 'X' and 'i' are out of the question, or so I heard. I'm sure you agree that 'X-weapons' or 'iWeapons' sound downright ridiculous. We'd be the laughing stock of even the PLANTs if the programme wasn't classified."

"Wouldn't want a lawsuit on our hands, would we?" said Misato, giving a snicker.

Natarle shrugged nonchalantly, though the ends of her lips curled a little. "Anyway, someone came up with 'G', as in 'gun', and the name stuck. Then another wisecrack decided to have it as a namesake for everything else; hence, G-weapons. They didn't spare the designation, either. GAT-X – that's for Gressorial Armament Tactical-eXperimental. Don't ask me what that means, I bet even Kojiro doesn't know. And then there's also the Synthesis System –"

"The what?"

"Synthesis System, that's what they called the operating system," Natarle said. "General Unilateral Neuro-Link Dispersive Autonomic Manoeuvre – that's the prototype OS for the G-weapons. There you have it, don't ask me how they thought of it in the first place, I can't even imagine."

"General Unilateral Neuro … G-U-N-D-A-M … Gundam," Misato murmured half in amazement, gazing over and beyond Natarle's shoulder at the clunky silhouette of the Strike as it steadily retreated into one of the MS docking bays lining the hangar walls. "Strike … Gundam. You're right, how the hell did they think of it? But it's quite the apt name for a weapon of mass destruction, don't you think?"

"Pretty rich of you to say that," Natarle snapped. "I've never believed for one moment that what Ikari had told us about the EVAs is all they are capable of."

"We don't know what the Evangelions are capable of, either," Misato said sombrely. "But they are all we have against the Angels."

"You all have been chittering about those Angels since the day we first boarded the Archangel. If NERV hadn't gone and actually built all those machines and the archangel we'd have thought this place was an asylum. I know we've repeated ourselves hoarse, but once again, you sure about them?"

"I amsure," Misato said simply. "I've seen one with my own eyes. We even have a schedule, and some documents. Classified, of course, the whole lot of them, so you wouldn't have seen them – though it shouldn't matter either way, because Ritsuko's the only one who truly understands that rubbish."

Natarle shrugged. "If you say so," she said, though doubt continued to flicker in her eyes. Though frankly speaking that was not all that surprising, really. Misato supposed that for someone who had been fighting on the frontlines throughout her entire military career, against fellow men and women, it could really be quite difficult to believe that humanity's worst enemy was not itself.

The Strike's cockpit hatch hissed open, and Misato could now see the slim figure of the young man with messy chocolate hair who had just tottered out shakily, like a baby on his first steps. From where she was standing, however, she could not discern the features on the man's face, but his clothes were clear enough.

She frowned. "The pilot's a civilian," Misato said, eyeing the man's leather jacket and jeans.

"Maybe not. I hope not," Natarle said, her voice tense. "Only one way to find out. Come on, let's go over."

It was a chocolate-haired woman standing by the Strike's feet that waved them over as they walked up towards the Strike's docking bay, looking the worse for wear in tattered and burnt Morgenroete coveralls, swathes of skin pockmarked by a relentless myriad of grazes, cuts, and burns. There was a slight limp in her left leg as she began to hobble over, but all in all Misato thought that she looked quite in the pink of health – as compared to the rest of the help; at the very least, she was still awake and walking.

Natarle strode forwards, grabbing the woman in a tight hug. "You made it," she said. "I heard you over the radio just now, but NERV told us that ZAFT killed everyone from our side."

Major Murrue Ramius of the 221st Moebius Zero 'Tantalus' Squadron rubbed Natarle's back, then pulled away. "I almost didn't," she said hoarsely. "You're right, ZAFT had shot everyone on sight. I only survived because Kira pulled me into the Strike's cockpit."

"Kira?"

Murrue sighed. "This is going to get tricky," she muttered, before stepping sideways, allowing Misato and Natarle to see clearly the faces of three gangly and dishevelled-looking teenagers awkwardly shuffling their feet behind her. Amongst the trio, standing the tallest in their lot, was a brown-haired boy in leather jacket and jeans – the same person whom they saw disembarking from the Strike.

"You must be Kira," Misato said slowly. He looked scrawny, and no older than twenty, as with the other boy and girl who stood on either side of his shoulders, with eyes that were wide with both fear and naivety – certainly he wasn't part of the ace pilot troupe the Fed army had painstakingly chosen and trained for the G Project.

The boy named Kira nodded numbly, his fringe clinging stubbornly to his forehead. "My name's Kira," he croaked. "Kira Yamato. Um … these are my friends – we go to the same university."

The girl to his right raised a trembly hand, giving a soft whimper, "H-hi." Ochre hair hung limply down to her neck, slick with grime, dust, and sweat. She didn't look injured, though a bloodied gauze patch had been taped to her right elbow. "I-I am Miriallia Haw."

"I'm Sai Argyle," the other boy with blond hair and Transitions-tinted glasses then said.

"Nice to meet you all," Misato said. "I am Katsuragi Misato, and I'm the captain of this ship, the Archangel. All you three are undergrads? Sahaku Institute of Technology, if I might hazard a guess?"

"H-how do you know?" Miriallia Haw stammered.

Misato shrugged. "I'm an alumnus. Anyway, it's the only faculty in these parts, unless you live over at the other Sides."

Natarle cleared her throat to speak. "I'm sorry, Murrue, but I don't understand," she said. "Both of you were inside the Strike, but the one we saw getting out was only Kira Yamato here."

"That's because I wasn't the one who piloted the Strike," Murrue said heavily. "Not that I'm shirking any responsibility, but the damn robot is difficult to operate, to say the least. It was a miracle I could get it to stand up. Kira was the one who took over and saved both our hides."

Natarle stared at the boy, at a loss for words. "But … how?" she said. "Even our best pilots could do no more than walk in the G-weapons!"

"I know how," Misato spoke up. She turned to Kira Yamato, looking at him evenly in the eye. "It all makes sense now, actually. You're a Coordinator, aren't you?"

Their reactions were immediate. Sai Argyle and Miriallia Haw stepped forward, positioning themselves protectively in front of Kira, their eyes brilliant with defiance. Evidently, this was not the first time they had had such a confrontation.

"What is it to you?" Argyle demanded.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Misato said calmly. "Before we continue, do let me assure you three that the Natural-Coordinator dynamics aboard this ship are very much unlike what you see outside." She cast a glance at Natarle and Murrue. "And don't you mind them either, even if they are from the Fed. You and I are all fellow Orb citizens, but it's a long story as to why they are here with us. But you have my word you three will be perfectly safe here in the Archangel."

At that, Argyle and Haw relaxed slightly. "If you say so," Argyle said, though he still seemed suspicious. "Please forgive us. Miriallia and I are Naturals, and we three have been in quite a few tight spots because of, well, us."

Misato's face softened. "I'm a Coordinator, too," she said, "so I understand. Now, back to the elephant in the room. Kira, you were the one who fired the Strike's hyper impulse cannon, weren't you?"

"I – no, I mean, yes, I-I did it," Kira mumbled, face paling. "But I had no other choice!"

"Sure you did. We were just above you. And anyway, "

"And how was I to know if your damn ship was friend or foe?!"

Misato exhaled. "I'm not going to argue with you about has-beens and what-ifs," she said, in as gentle a tone as she could muster. "We still haven't heard your side of the story. Why don't you start from the beginning?"

In the chaos that had ensued during the colony-wide evacuation, Kira had, according to him, made a detour from the SIT campus straight into the Tannenbaum armoury. "I … I saw someone breaking off from the queue," he recounted. "It was a girl, and she looked around our age. I followed her into the Morgenroete storage facility, and then those MSes, G-weapons or whatever you call them, were right in front of us, and then she just started screaming at the top of her voice … I thought she was actually crying."

Misato and Natarle turned to Murrue, who shrugged. "I was with Kira throughout afterwards, but there was no girl."

"I managed to get her onto a nearby evac chute soon after," Kira explained. "The lifeboat was already filled to capacity, so they took only her in."

"The girl you saw … you don't know her?"

Kira shook his head. "Never saw her before in my life."

"What was she screaming?"

"Um … something like, 'How could you do this, Father?' Sounds weird, I know, but I swear I'm telling the truth," Kira said. "I'm sure I wasn't hallucinating either, because when she refused to board the lifeboat I'd to push her in."

"That's quite … unusual. Why didn't she want to go in?"

"She, well, she didn't want to leave without me."

Misato nodded. "I see," she said. "Was it after then that ZAFT attacked?"

Kira took a deep breath. "Yeah … yeah, it was," he said shakily. "They … killed everyone. Major Murrue saved my life when she pulled me into the Strike. When I saw that she had difficulty moving the MS, I … I took over."

Misato tapped her chin. "We were told that the OS was incomplete. How did you manage to operate the Strike?"

"From the Naturals' perspective, yes, it was incomplete, because many of the operational parameters were still not programmed into the AI," Kira said apprehensively. "I could handle them manually without – without, um, confusing myself."

"Confusing, eh?" This time, it was Natarle who spoke, with an intense look on her face.

Immediately, Kira ducked his head. "F-for lack of a better word," he stuttered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"There's no reason for you to apologise," the major interrupted. "It is a fact that our engineers are still unable to simplify MS operation enough for Naturals without adversely affecting its combat capabilities. Just one more question, was that CGUE the only unit you engaged with the Strike?"

Murrue stepped forth. "I'll answer that question," she said. "Kira managed to repel two GINNs with the Strike in just its basic configuration. I was the one who authorised the attachment of the Launcher Pack later. It was more of a safeguard than anything else, because it's the simplest out of all the Striker Packs to operate for Kira, but I hadn't expected ZAFT to dispatch a commander unit."

"P-please, ma'am," Haw said, her voice pleading. "Can I ask … what's going to happen to us?"

Misato hesitated. "The Strike is a top-secret military project by the Atlantic Federation military," she said. "The fact that civilians had seen it, even sat in it and engaged it in combat in Heliopolis, a neutral territory … I – I can't even begin to imagine the repercussions. If it's any reassuring … I daresay us three will be in deeper shit than you all."

"With all due respect, that's not reassuring at all," Argyle said, his voice a tad brusque.

"No, I apologise, it's not at all. But as things are right now, we're unable to relocate you three to a lifeboat. You'd have to stay here, but I give my word that the Archangel is the safest place to be right now."

5

Misato and Natarle watched, stunned, as a TS-MA2mod.00 Moebius Zero came careening down the runway into the hangar, wheels screeching and smoking. It looked completely battered, with all four of its gunbarrels missing, the linear cannon broken into half, and its main hull peppered with so many scorch marks and bullet holes that it was simply undeniable that it was a miracle the pilot was still alive.

"I don't think," Misato began, amidst the yells of shock and rage that have erupted all around, "it would be too outrageous for me to presume that the pilot of that Moebius Zero is someone we know?"

"No, I don't think so," Natarle said. "I recognise that stupid picture on the starboard side. Most definitely, it's that man."

"The crazy one?"

"Who else? Why didn't anyone at the bridge inform us, though?"

As if on cue, Misato's phone began to vibrate. "Katsuragi," she spoke into the receiver. "That you, Ibuki? I suppose this is regarding the Moebius Zero that has just crashed into our hangar?"

"I'm so sorry!" Ibuki Maya cried over the line. "That was Major La Flaga – he sent a SOS just now, and the next second he's telling us to open the gates or he'd crash into the ship –"

"Yeah, I see him now, don't you worry about it," Misato said dryly, watching as a blond head emerged from the dented hatch, straight into a furious tirade by a puce-faced Kojiro. "Keep on watching the skies, and give Badgiruel or me a call if you see so much as a dot."

"Will do, Captain."

"Thanks," Misato said, then hung up the call. She beckoned over to Natarle. "Shall we?"

"After you," Natarle said.

Kojiro had stormed away as they approached the grounded craft, and when the blonde pilot saw them he waved – a bit too enthusiastically in the circumstances, Misato thought.

"Wotcher!" Major Mu La Flaga of the 221st Tantalus called out jovially, then hopped off the Moebius Zero. "I see that I made quite the entrance."

"That'd be the understatement of the year," Misato murmured. "Murdoch's not going to hear the end of this, you know. We're just a few hours into the maiden launch, and you've already made scorch marks on the runways."

"Couldn't be helped, I s'pose," Mu said with a sheepish smile. "I wasn't sure I could keep this poor baby in the air much longer, shocking as that sounds."

"What happened, though?" Misato frowned. "Come to think of it, why the hell are you here? The Juno Law wasn't due till next week."

Mu's face darkened. "The official date's a decoy," he said. "They scrambled us days before, told us to light our assholes here in case ZAFT's a-listening. I don't know who's leaked what, but the moment we came here those damn Coordinators got Rau Le Creuset lying in wait with two of his fucking ships … I was the only goddamned survivor, they sunk the ship the moment I launched."

Misato cursed under her breath. "Rau Le Creuset, you say?"

"You guys know him, too?"

"Of course we do. The moment our higher-ups allowed you all to hitchhike on board our ship they got us doing intelligence on ZAFT. I do like to think we know at least half as much as you all do now."

Mu nodded grimly. "That's good to hear. That masked blondie is a darn freak to begin with, and we'll need everything we can get if we're to survive him," he said. "From what I'm seeing, I daresay the Strike's all we're left with now?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Natarle. "ZAFT made off with the other four, but we're not sure if they are with Le Creuset. Were his ships the only ones that attacked the Juno Law?"

"Yeah, two of them, like I said. I'd recognise the Vesalius and Gamow anytime. At any rate, those were the only bogeys I saw on my side of Heliopolis; I can't confirm whether there are any more of them elsewhere." He folded his arms. "To be honest … those hotshots that we'd been escorting on the Juno Law, they would stand no chance against even those GINNs of his – they will rip the G-weapons apart in a dogfight. Went against his forces four times in total, never so much as landed a shot on his ships. His pilots are the elite of the elite, and they get the newest models every time ZAFT does an upgrade. Even Tantalus would fare better, if only slightly. That's how good his men are with their dolls. The Strike's unmanned, right?"

"Not really. Someone drove it over here, but it's quite the long story," Misato said. "Tell you what, why don't you get changed, and then we will bring you over to Major Ramius. She's the one who survived the melee with those ZAFT marauders; she can explain things better."

Mu shrugged. "If you say so," she said. "Where's Murrue, anyway? I haven't seen her for over a month, damn it."

Natarle's lip curled slightly. "She went on over to the bunks first. Not to nap, mind you, but she has civilians with her, so she went to get some space for them to take a breather," she said. "Now get going. In the meantime, how would you like Murdoch to handle your unit?"

Frowning in thought, Mu said, "I don't suppose we've spare gunbarrels lying around, do we?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Then she's shot beyond hope," Mu said forlornly. "Even if he can get her to fly again she'd be a sitting duck out there. The linear cannon's next to useless against those GINNs, you know that."

"Not to worry," Misato spoke. "We've a spare that came in with the EVAs and Ramius' unit. It might take some time getting used to, but at least it's in tiptop."

"No problem, I'll wear the seat in a bit once everything cools down," Mu said. "I'll make a move first, then."

"Meeting in thirty," Misato said, nodding.

Mu touched his forehead. "See you all in twenty." Then he loped off, helmet tucked underneath his arm.

Natarle turned to Misato. "What does NERV plan to do now?" she asked.

"Actually, I'm not sure. Usually the commander leaves the planning to us, but circumstances now are rather … unique, I'd say. Our itinerary is probably not going to change much, though, but getting the hell out of this place would be a different issue altogether. I don't think Le Creuset would stop at just those four G-weapons, based on what we've dug up about him." Misato paused, thinking. "If I were him … I'd probably just wait. Barring crew morale, he would have the resources to do so. Orb's space fleet is virtually non-existent, and the neutrality treaty prevents us from getting outside help. He could besiege the colony until its people kick the Archangel outafter the food's gone."

"You're right," Natarle said. "Two Moebius Zeroes aren't going to improve our combat capabilities by a lot, no matter how skilled their pilots are. And as for the EVAs … well, I can still remember how … adamant Professor Akagi was against deploying your pilots against enemies of a more human, for lack of a better term, nature."

"No, we can't," Misato said, shaking her head. "We've been through this before, Badgiruel –"

"That's not to say I'm comfortable with doing otherwise, either, just to remind you," Natarle interrupted. "All the same, you all should have divulged more about the identities of NERV's combat personnel before we had launched into that particular discussion. But that's neither here nor there. As things go right now, it looks like the boy's our only hope left."

"Kira Yamato, you say?" Misato then bit her lip, her eyes narrowed.

"I know what you're thinking," Natarle said immediately. "We've no right dragging him and his friends to salvage our own mess. But he is of age. And conscription's a rite of passage for Orb males, no? At the very least, those two boys will have experience with military protocol. Even if none of us here have any qualms on deploying children for war, that Ayanami girl is in no condition to do so now. As for Ikari's son …" She paused, folding her arms. "How does NERV screens its combatants, anyway?"

"We don't, in fact. There are very few people in this godforsaken world that fit the criteria we have for EVA piloting. It's quite … fortunate that Shinji's the commander's son, and not some war orphan in Azadistan, or Krugis child soldier."

"Fortunate not for him."

"Yeah," Misato said softly. She straightened up. "There's still a bit of time left before the briefing. I'll go get Kira Yamato and his buddies. Help me hold the fort while I'm at it, alright?"

"You still need to ask?" Natarle turned, giving a short wave of her hand. "I'll see you in fifteen."

TO BE CONTINUED in PHASE-03: MOBILE SUIT