Mobile Suit Omega Gundam (Episode one posted)

[<chronicler>]

This is the third incarnation of Omega Gundam to be posted here, but I expect this to be the final. It'll be mostly similar to version two, which is currently floating around on this forum, but don't expect too many similarities to carry over. More to come as it's written.



When the news broke on May 19, 2107, it could hardly be contained: radiological and cosmic surveys from around the solar system had confirmed the existence of two habitable planets located in orbit around Proxima Centauri. After centuries of dismissing the existence of habitable exoplanets as fantasy, the realization came that Earth was no longer unique. Along with three enormous gas giants, that closest star to Earth held within its orbit the final key to humanity’s survival. It was decided that, within the century, man would live on these worlds and make those first steps outside of its neighborhood and into species maturity. The plan was deceptively simple: probes would first analyze the surface of both worlds, as well as the sizable moons of the three gas giants, for signs of life and water, and then report their findings to give permission to proceed with further manned missions. Though nothing had been confirmed yet, hopeful construction went ahead on the three colony ships- Vespucci, Huang He and Eriksen- that would bring humanity to the Proxima system and the first chapter in its cosmic destiny.
Within thirty years, liquid water had been discovered on one, now called Primus, and vast resource reserves were plentiful throughout the system. The first priority of the colonists was to set up the pod settlements that would lay the groundwork for large-scale colonization of both Primus and its sister world Secundus. The second was the construction of humankind’s crowning feat of engineering: the warpgate. Mammoth solar collectors provided the device with the sheer power to rupture the fabric of space-time, allowing near-instantaneous travel across the light-years separating the two star systems.
By 2329, the colonies around Proxima Centauri were thriving, housing millions on the two Earth-like planets and in colony sides, and the same methods used in that system were showing success in the Epsilon Eridani system. However, Earth’s heavy-handed governance of its colonies began to bear rebellious fruit by the end of the century. The Centauri colonies formed a provisional government in an attempt to achieve some form of compromise, but the thrill of Manifest Destiny policies deafened the ears of Earth. It was then that the Free Alliance of Colonies and Exterior Territories, or FACET, pulled its ultimate trump card: total succession from the Federated States of the Earth Sphere and the deactivation of its warpgate to Earth. The colonies of Epsilon Eridani held on to tenuous neutrality throughout, repeatedly refusing Centauri offers of FACET membership for fear of similar isolation from Earth. The stalemate would last for a little over one hundred years, during which the Federated States plunged into a lengthy civil war and other minor conflicts erupted on the home fronts of FACET and Eridani.
It was on October 11, 2432 that the carefully maintained truce erupted into full-scale war between FACET and the Federated States. In an unprovoked nuclear strike, ships of the Earth Sphere Fleet attacked a convoy of military and diplomatic ships sent to finalize Eridani membership in FACET.
The public outcry was overwhelming, in both FACET and the Federated States. Within a matter of hours, the Centauri colonies had declared war on their attackers, leaving the Earth government scrambling for the firepower to defend itself, much less mount an effective counterattack, while Eridani citizens enlisted by the thousands in their new government’s military to crew the starships of their liberation. The storms of ambition and revenge that had brewed for so long now threatened to engulf all that mankind had struggled to achieve.

[assault gundam]

I remember reading one version of this some time back and I say, I CAN'T WAIT!!!!!

[<chronicler>]

13:58 (Terran Standard Time), October 18, 2432, Sol System, Venus, ESSF Nevchenko Atmospheric Fleet Base

The rebels should’ve attacked us by now, he worried. It’s been nearly a week. Admiral Walters continued pacing the surface deck of the floating structure as he had been doing for several minutes. He, as well as the base personnel at large, had been on edge for days without a break. The calming swirls of Venusian clouds that surrounded him provided the only relief he had had in recent days. Not only had the alert fighter crews racked up enough mileage on their constant survey missions to fly to Earth and back, but neither the primary nor the secondary aircrew had been able to sleep well for close to a week. Fatigue was taking its toll on everyone, but if this waiting game continued for only more days, the problems would be medical rather than merely impediments to comfort. Further complicating the situation was the general belief that the rebels had planted saboteurs throughout the Fleet, intent on destroying Fleet defensive infrastructure ahead of the rebel warships. Walters had tried to institute a kind of tribunal to discover spies within base personnel, but within two days, it had become a full-scale witch-hunt; the only intelligence he or base security had uncovered was a comprehensive list of the base’s personal grudges.
The Fleet communicator tablet he kept in his pocket began beeping: Lieutenant Van der Meijer was on the line. Now out of his pocket, the Admiral’s communicator displayed a holographic portrait of the lieutenant.
“Sir, base security has discovered a suspected saboteur.” Walters nearly dropped the communicator tablet in surprise.
“Give me all the intel you’ve got.”
“Amanda Sorensen, age twenty-three. She’s a defensive systems engineer with medium-level security clearance, here on transfer from Blackrock. The records check out as far as we can tell, but we’ll need secondary confirmation from Blackrock personnel records. She was found tampering with Preferential Anti-Aircraft fire control computers less than ten minutes ago.”
“Where is she now?”
“In the brig, currently awaiting processing. We’re yet unsure what she may have planted in the defensive systems, but so far, nothing malicious has turned up.” The admiral afforded himself a silent sigh of relief.
“We can’t afford to leave anything in the system unaccounted for. Continue searching for anything new and unusual: perhaps it’s time-triggered.” He determined then that the news had to be contained as swiftly and effectively as possible; once word got out that a transferee from Blackrock, of all places, could turn out to be a traitor… Any remaining shreds of order would evaporate.
Sudden consternation crossed Lieutenant Van der Meijer’s face.
“Sir, we’ve just lost our connection to orbital radar. So far, no other systems affected.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes sir, only orbital radar uplink is down. Admiral, I have a feeling this could be the beginning of an attack. We haven’t had a chance to scan all the base systems yet, but it would be reasonable to pre-empt an attack by taking out our radar.”
“Yes!” the admiral cried as he put it all together. He began to sprint back to the command center, barely managing to shout into his communicator. “And when their ships arrive, our PAA defenses would be down. Scramble the alert fighters immediately! All craft go for launch!” In moments, the first Peregrine fighters roared overhead, streaking through the mustard clouds surrounding their floating base. For several minutes, the fighters circled without incident, when suddenly, the same distress call broke out across all pilot frequencies: the PAA batteries were targeting friendlies. Several fighters had already been hit and were plummeting through the clouds, leaving trails of fire, while others tried to flee under the base platform. Lieutenant Van der Meijer could be heard ordering someone to manually sever the PAA fire control hard lines, but it was too late for many of the pilots. It was then that the whole structure was rocked with explosions.
Strange warships dipped below the clouds and opened fire on the base as its compliment of alert fighters fell around it like flaming stones. The main ammunition warehouse, located across the disc from Admiral Walters, was hit and detonated with enough force to tip the entire construct. One Jimmy transport could be seen leaping away, followed by a second; they only made it a few meters more before they vanished in consecutive fireballs. He had not quite reached the command center yet, but somehow heard Lieutenant Van der Meijer yelling to him from the landing pad to his right. He was motioning Walters to follow when a rocket streaked into the Jimmy transport behind him, reducing the transport and all aboard to flames and scrap metal. The admiral turned and pelted across the platform, not willing to confirm the death of his friend and second-in-command.
More missiles hit the structure and it began to lean to Walters’ left, then a tremendous explosion sent ripples across the entire base. All was oddly calm for the few seconds before the platform began its plunge into the Venusian atmosphere below it, and in minutes, it would crash to the surface, to slowly be destroyed by blistering heat and crushing atmospheric pressure. Admiral Walters was just lucky that he was dead before he could experience the process for himself.

***

14:36 (Terran Standard Time), October 18, 2432, Sol System, Earth orbit, ESS Terranova

News of the attack spread fast, but time would yet tell whether it had spread fast enough. Commander Amira Bennett, like many other commanders in the sector, had been given orders to prepare her ship for departure to a combat zone that would remain unspecified until further orders came down from Fleet Orbital Command. The only thing she and FOC knew about the rebels was that they had sunk Nevchenko Fleet Base with a force of unknown size or destination; outside of this fact, their fleets could show up anywhere in the solar system and Command would need to issue orders within seconds if they wanted any friendly ships there in minutes. This was the Terranova’s situation, as it had been for nearly a week.
The ammunition reserves were full, the fighters were fueled, and all that was missing were muster orders. Loyal-class frigates like the Terranova would undoubtedly be put in the hottest fighting, but Amira was confident in her ship’s reputation of sturdiness and her crew’s precision. Some would call this pretentiousness, but she had not gotten to the position she did by trying to play from the sidelines. Nor had she done it by anyone else’s merits, working her way through a Fleet Academy education that her father’s position in the FOC should have, essentially, fast-tracked. Some called it a chip on her shoulder- some even called it a complex- but to Amira it was sheer determination to get by on her own merits. She vowed never to be a Navy brat.
The Terranova’s bridge crew was fully accounted for, ammo replenishment was completed and her pilots and marines were ready as ever. In fact, their pre-launch checklist had been completed almost half an hour early. Her first call was to Admiral Strathmore, Earth-orbit commanding officer.
“Admiral Strathmore,” she said over the direct hailing frequency, “this is Commander Bennett of the Terranova requesting departure orders.” The holo projector directly in front of her that displayed her ship’s position now showed departure orders, and several other ships were illuminated along with her own, indicating they shared the same destination: Titan. Whether rebels had struck there already was unknown to her, but at least she would not be going alone. The heavy destroyer Bosporus as well as a Phantom-class patrol craft would be following to constitute their taskforce. Once Ensign Hajafa at communications received confirmations from all five warships, it would be four SPA jumps to Titan space.
Several minutes later, the Solidarity received five confirmations, and Admiral Strathmore’s voice came over their group-specific hailing frequency to give departure permission.
The projector image counted off the time until SPA jump in seconds. In five seconds, the ships were gone.

Four jumps later, FOC Taskforce Epsilon fell directly into a massive firefight. The holo projector was alive with IFF contacts; both friendly and rebel ship markers swarmed within the entire cube.
“Bring it onscreen,” she ordered Ensign Hajafa. The viewscreen on the bridge’s forward wall showed nearly fifty ships, several ablaze, all firing everything they had at the evenly-matched enemy battle groups.
Just then, a hail came in from Admiral Hunter of the heavy cruiser Bulwark, commander of the Earth Fleet forces in this sector. The admiral’s determined face appeared on screen.
“It’s about time we got reinforcements! Bosporus, Terranova, Aido and Danube, your orders will be onscreen shortly. Prowler actual,” he said, indicating the patrol craft, “switch to private discriminator frequency for further orders.” With that, his image was gone and Amira’s battle group leapt immediately into action. Taskforce Epsilon, along with a handful of other warships, were going to attempt to flank the rebel ships by going under and around them, but this would be more difficult than it sounded: the enemy positions were changing fast enough to render a mass attack just a dangerous over-extension of valuable forces. She had to alert Taskforce command.
“Bosporus actual,” she called over a linear frequency, “this is Terranova actual. We can’t follow those flanking orders. We have to do something else.” The man’s voice that came over the line was harried and mildly shocked.
“What?!? What do you mean, we can’t?”
“Look.” She outlined her points on the bridge’s projected combat zone. “If we do this, we’ll be overexposed and overextended, rendering these portions of the fleet open to attack on three sides. I have a plan.”
“That’s right, you do, if you expect me to refuse lawful orders. What is it?”
“Have our SPA’s cooled down enough for two or three more jumps?” There was a slight chuckle at the other end.
“Well, is it two or three?”
“Three,” Amira smiled.

The Superposition Arrestor cannot be called a drive system, since there is absolutely no propulsion involved. Rather, it is an extension of the technology that enabled the first quantum computers to be built back in the late 21st Century. Quantum superposition theory, when combined with the theory of quantum entanglement, outlined the basic principles behind a quantum computer: first, all particles in the universe are connected to each other on a sub-atomic level. Second, every particle in the universe exists, simultaneously, at every possible point in the universe. In order for a quantum computer to work properly, its data units, called qubits, would have to exist in several places at once.
On a gigantically larger scale, these same principles enabled a sort of teleportation; technically, the object in question already existed at its new location, just not corporeally. Therefore, with enough energy, all the particles of an object or series of objects could instantly change superpositions and exist in a new location without propulsion, and thanks to a preliminary shockwave on the other end, no “phasing” between objects.
It was these shockwaves that began appearing on the rebel’s right flank. Soon after, Earth ships jumped in to fill the gaps with all guns blazing and multiple fighter groups streaming from the launch catapults of all ten craft and pouring deadly rocket fire into enemy hulls. Something was wrong, though; the missiles hit and exploded, but didn’t even seem to hit the hull plating. The fighter combat frequencies all lit up at once.
“Commander!” Bravo leader called. “They’ve got some sort of energy shields up! Please advise!” Energy shields?! Amira thought. Is that even possible?
“All fighters, this is Terranova actual. Pull back and come around for another pass on my mark. We’ll have to try something different.” This time, she called Admiral Hunter.
“Bulwark actual, this is Terranova actual requesting nuclear strike permission.” The admiral sounded distressed when he responded.
“Permission denied, Terranova.”
“Sir! If they’ve got energy shields, I suggest we try a low-yield EMP burst.” The admiral took a few seconds longer this time.
“Permission denied, Terranova. We haven’t exhausted all options yet.” At that, the admiral hung up.
In a huff, Amira strode over to the fire control console and flipped up a plastic rectangular cover.
“Lieutenant Chandler, get out your firing key.” The man wheeled around, looking shocked, and the entire bridge crew went silent.
“You can’t! Commander, you heard our orders!” Amira put her foot down.
“The admiral was right; we haven’t exhausted all possible options yet, and while we wait to do so, our people are killed. Get out your firing key.” He hesitated and froze, taken by fear and confusion. It was then that Amira drew her sidearm from the holster on her belt and pointed it right at the lieutenant’s trembling face.
“Give me the key or get off my bridge, lieutenant. More lives than yours hang in the balance here.” Chandler practically ran across to firing control, flipping up a second cover on the console. Both keys were simultaneously entered and turned, leaving only a firing solution and firing order in the way of nuclear launch.
“Navigation, plot a jump to the opposite side of the rebel fleet and prepare for a second jump immediately afterwards. We jump right after launch.” The targeting computer had acquired a firing solution placing the first low-yield nuke in the middle of a large enemy battle group, set to detonate on proximity. The commander did not hesitate.
“Nuclear missile away,” chirped the holo projector’s radar.
“Jump!” Amira shouted.

The bridge of the ESS Bulwark was almost in chaos. The whole ship was rocking with explosions, only hinting at the amount of fire being poured at her from the rebel cruisers. Where are those reinforcements, wondered Admiral Hunter. That Phantom should’ve relayed our distress signal already! Suddenly, the ship’s radar went berserk: a radiological alert was coming from beyond the rebel fleet. He had not authorized the use of nuclear weapons… Could this be a rebel attack? Before he could give any orders, the missile had launched into a bunch of enemy craft and detonated, causing shockwaves through their ranks. It was then he noticed that his ships’ missiles were connecting with hull armor. The shields were down! He brought up every one of his ships in the sector on the fleet common frequency.
“The shields are down! I repeat, enemy shields are down! Concentrate all fire on propulsion and weapons hardpoints!” Seconds later, a second nuke split the sky in the middle of a FACET group, and more missiles and cannon fire battered the now shieldless rebels.
After several minutes, all the FACET ships that could jumped away, leaving only smoldering refuse and fractured hulks behind. For this sudden turn of events, Admiral Hunter knew only one commander could have been responsible: Commander Amira Bennett. Whether she would be court-martialed for defying lawful orders of a superior in a combat situation or commended for using officer’s initiative to save potentially hundreds of lives, though, was a matter for a different time and an impartial committee.

“Docking collars secured! Stand by for boarding action!” The collars melted circles in the disabled rebel warship’s hull before small detonators finished punching five-foot holes in the armor plating. The Earth Sphere Marines that poured onto the ship’s decks began branching off into fire teams that would comb the ship looking for prisoners.
There were no maps for the deck layout, from what they did know of the rebel cruisers, there were at least two hangar bays and a central bridge, very similar to other Earth Fleet ships of the same size.
Fire teams Delta and Epsilon went fore in hopes of locating the bridge and possibly even the armory, but the corridors were blank except for occasional doors and bulkheads. Eventually, they found a central elevator, though none of the twenty decks that were listed inside was labeled by function, so the team leader picked deck four at ransom. After a few seconds’ descent, the doors opened upon a hangar bay, nearly twenty meters tall, and in racks along the walls was the reason for such a cavernous space: humanoid fighting machines, nearly 15 meters tall and armed with large rifles and rocket launchers.
“Bosporus actual,” said Epsilon team’s captain over his squad-to-ship frequency, “we’ve found something you have to see.”