Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Franchise, Sunrise does. No copywright infringement necessary. Now without further ado,
Galactic Age, mankind spread throughout the Solar System were at long last united under the reign of the Astroneous Union. Beneath its watchful eye, humanity remained at peace, in a cage of oppression. Many citizens, gasping for freedom, departed in colonies and floated into the vast Milky Way, beyond the reaches of Solar’s gravity….
The year is GA 0102, the rule of Astroneous is in question. With quickly depleting food and oxygen sources, and filled with longing for a permanent home, the space-roving monarchy of Zerelf returns triumphantly to Earth leading dozens of exhausted colonists. Determined not to fall once again under the oppression of the Astroneous, the Zerelf declare independence from the Union and begin an invasion of the Earth Sphere, declaring the beginning of a new galactic regime.
Sensing that the time for revolution is at hand, the Republic of Spectron, a member of the Union based in a colony group orbiting earth, also begin waging a war of independence.
One year and six months pass of brutal fighting, and the Spectron are left decimated and weakened before the overwhelming force of Astroneous’ military forces. However, with a revolutionary new line of weapons known as Mobile Suits, the Zerelf slowly draw closer to victory. With each passing month, one colony group after another falls before Zerelf, while others join willingly, hoping for a better society free of oppression.
Determined to end the war before Astroneous can begin developing Mobile Weapons of their own, the Zerelf admiralty begin the invasion of the Earth’s surface...
Episode One Bombardment
Mobile suits: large mechanical weapons of roughly humanoid shape originally created for peaceful uses. These weapons soon become the next great innovation of military warfare and strategy. Seeing these weapons employed to a great deal of success against them, the Astroneous Union contract Professor Elder Gnurlingham, a renowned scientist and engineer, to develop mobile suits capable of contending with the Zerelf’s own MS machines. According to documented proof, Gnurlingham scoffed and said he would create a weapon that, when activated, would lay waste to every Zerelf weapon they dare construct.
Not long after, at the research base of Goldmoss in Italy, formerly a city named Genoa, a special strike force of Zerelf warships descend on the base to capture Elder and his research. Gnurlingham’s promise is about to be put to the test.
GA 0103, June 19. Goldmoss Research and Development Installation, Italy.
Grey clouds blotted the sun from the land below, leaving the world in a grey overcast, allowing for the bright flashes of light to be seen with far greater ease. Although no one said it aloud, those fighting preferred a grey, dull day. A bright, cheerful sun would have been too hypocritical.
Missiles rained down on the grey and green domes sat into the hillsides along a rugged coastline. Yellow brilliance lit the structures, and the civilians huddled in their homes in the town not far away screamed underneath rocking tables as the world shook with the shockwaves of the warheads, and the thud of huge, mechanical legs pounding against the ground as the Zerelf Sehzen class battle cruisers launched their mobile suit compliments.
From his vantage seat in the captain’s chair aboard the Sehzen class Randolf, Colonel Rest kept his gaunt face emotionless as the smoke and flame from the missile barrage he just ordered cleared away. His eyes narrowed; a sign of his thoughtfulness. In the middle of the busy chatter from his bridge operators, he heard the crackling voice of His Highness, Prince Erzan, launching in his Interloper II star fighter.
“Colonel, confirmation on the target base: minimum damage inflicted,” one of the statistics officers reported, a handsome, snobby young man who considered his job more important than it actually was. From what Rest heard, he sounded genuinely disappointed at the failure to decimate the enemy on the first barrage.
“I can see that,” Rest replied irritably, pointing with his finger toward the viewports of the Randolf, where the cameras displayed a magnified image of the smoking domes. “Please inform me of something I can’t see myself, Major Deblindo.”
“Colonel,” a female catapult deck operator called, “Prince Erzan has launched in his Interloper II.”
“Please refrain from telling me something I could hear myself from all this chatter,” snapped Rest, his body still rigid and unmoving. A lock of graying hair threatened to fall into his silver eyes, but he quickly pushed it aside.
That Gnurlingham made sure to transform his personal workshop into a formidable stronghold. These cliffs, the stone, solid granite I assume. A loud crackle issued from the side of the right armrest, he looked down in slight irritation as a grizzled voice barked from his personal comm feed.
“Colonel, it’s Gairia, he is insisting that he speak with you,” the communications operator called to him.
Confound you, Rest thought as he punched the accept button. “What do you want, Gairia?”
“The prince has gone into battle, as his assigned bodyguard, I am obligated to protect the rascal, aren’t I? Besides, I want to fight. No one else can handle that white MS, it tore apart four of my boys, and it can do even more harm without me to back the others up,” Gairia explained gruffly.
“I ordered you and all the other ace pilots to remain on standby until I give orders for your launch,” replied the colonel with a slightly curt tone.
“My suit’s already on the catapult launch deck,” Gairia drawled. “You gonna give me permission to launch or not?”
Rest hesitated, fury filling him at Gairia disobeying his orders again. After fifteen years of serving together, the two still squabbled with each other.
Gairia took the initiative while Colonel Rest deliberated with himself. “Colonel, Gairia’s Vica has launched in a hover sled without permission,” the comm’s operator said loudly to be heard over the din of the other operators as the battle continued to escalate. Rest began to reply, but an AU Eagle Hunter fighter plane flashed by the bridge, firing its machine guns.
Once the roaring enemy died at the hands of the Randolf’s anti-aircraft guns, Rest turned his attention to strategy once again.
“Colonel Rest, the enemy is preparing to launch missiles,” Major Deblindo exclaimed from his seat below his superior.
“I already told you I have eyes,” Rest countered. During his dialogue with Gairia, he watched the missile pods rising up from underground emplacements, where they took shelter by retracting during the missile barrage. “Order the Hehni and Scritoap to follow the Randolf’s lead.”
“Vion, lower our altitude so our Vulcan’s can get more time in repelling their missiles,” commanded Rest, his tone terse.
Gazing at the burning shrubbery ignited by the first volley of missile fire from the Randolf, Hehni, and Scritoap, the three Sehzen that made up over half of his fleet, Rest smiled slightly. If we can’t break into their bunker, we’ll just melt them inside.
“Fire all missiles.”
Erzan Verimon gritted his teeth against the G-forces as he sent his Interloper II through multiple maneuvers best performed in space, without the extra force of gravity being involved. He almost passed out, but hung on long enough to pulverize an enemy fighter with his beam guns, which were not much better than hapless Vulcans that relied on mega particles rather than ammunition.
Pulling out of a wild tumble, Erzan shook his head to regain his senses and focused on his primary target, a massive heavy fighter wing craft known as a Peregrine. Equipped with a mega particle cannon, the machine could easily pulverize the Sehzens if left to its own devices. Above and around the Peregrine and Erzan a violent dogfight raged between Zerelf and AU fighters. From what Erzan could see, the fight was going in his own people’s favor.
Angling toward the populated district of the city, the Peregrine began gaining altitude. Erzan pursued, glancing down at the battlefield around Goldmoss. He saw a flicker of a stark white mobile suit ripping apart a Zerelf Vica MS. At least the air battle is still going for us, Erzan thought.
Three mobile suits. Three creations of Elder Gnurlingham were laying waste to the hitherto unstoppable Zerelf Vica mobile suits. When the initial assault on Goldmoss began, Erzan and his companions felt a bit of happiness at the prospect of fighting new enemy units. During the war, most of the Zerelf pilots had gained a since of pity for the AU. After all, they still had nomobile suits, and now that they had constructed some, they were just a trio of prototypes. Erzan laughed along with the mobile suit pilots. The Astroneous were really sad. And Colonel Rest began the assault, Lieutenant Gairia, a famed mobile suit veteran, charged down to rip the prototypes to shreds.
No one was laughing now. Three prototypes. At the moment, Erzen didn’t know quite how many Vica, but by the end of this battle, he assumed at least eight would have fallen against the enemy. The enemy MS were invincible, only beam weaponry hoped to stop them, and that meant battleships or gunboats, as they were the only ones who could carry mega particle guns, but they were big targets for a small Ms sized unit with equal firepower.
Erzan looked away as he saw another Vica being ripped to shreds by the white horned mobile suit’s weapon, which was apparently a kind of beam weapon small enough to be held in the palm of its hand. Elder wasn’t boasting when he said we don’t stand a chance.
Gladys Angeline, Erzan’s wingmate, died in a scream of comm static and a violent ball of white as gunfire from enemy weapons down below completely wiped her from the skies by Erzan’s right wing.
“What the-!?” Erzan stared in complete shock. They were over the civilian region now, which meant that the AU had decided to bring in military weapons into a designated neutral territory. What are they thinking? Don’t they care about the safety of the very people there’re trying to protect? Erzan asked aloud in pure disbelief. Gunfire from one of the enemies below, a new type of mobile Flak tank, answered his question with bullets.
“This is your own fault,” growled Erzan in a rage, firing his machine and beam guns. The Flak tank blew apart, the resulting column of black smoke and yellow flame soared into the sky. Debris struck a house, a very nice looking villa, and tore it to shreds.
Tile roofing fell in and collapsed part of the villa’s wall. Erzan though he heard the scream of an elderly couple, but knew it had to be his imagination, and kept flying after the Peregrine, which circled once and was now high above him, being swarmed by Interlopers.
Looking down, Erzan noticed a group of AU assault tanks, otherwise known as roaches for their streamlined hulls, hiding amongst the houses. It was a residential area, a neighborhood. What were the roaches doing there? Erzan saw the rounds of a Vica machine gun fire near one of the villas and switched on his rear view camera to see a Vica pursuing a squadron of roaches and hover transports carrying AU infantry. To his horror, he saw that they were heading for the residential area.
Erzan suddenly went into a corkscrew to avoid being struck by the fire from at least three other Flak tanks. Locking onto the nearest with his targeting computer, he stopped his spin and fired a pair of homing missiles. Just as he squeezed the trigger, he watched a little girl with bouncing blonde curls rush out from one of the houses. She couldn’t be any older than five years.
Horrified, Erzan watched helplessly as the girl and the warheads raced for the anti-air tank. At the last second, a woman raced out from a house and grabbed the child, taking her inside the basement of the home just as the Interloper II’s missiles reduced the Flak tank to burning shrapnel.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Erzan looked around at the town. It was a nice little place, he felt a bit envious of the people there. He always wanted to live by the coast, in a normal family, and not a monarchy with the responsibility of millions of lives. Maybe when the war is over, I can provide Orbin with that life, Erzan thought.
Up ahead, the Peregrine finally succumbed to the swarm of Interloper fighters. Losing altitude, the flying wing lost engine power and descended to land in the stadium at the edge of the town. Its internal energy-battery-generator failed to discharge excess power in time.
“Ah-a core explosion,” cried Erzan, as a bright light illuminated the coliseum, blinding him.
When he regained sight, Erzan noticed the signal flare for his forces to retreat. He looked at Goldmoss. The rocky hill surrounding the research facility was burning red and orange from the aftermath of another missile barrage at the hands of Rest.
Erzan glanced down once again at the city below him. Several fighters crashed into homes or buildings, blasting them into ruined hulks or craters where core explosions occurred. It was all so needless. During the course of the war, Zerelf made it a policy to avoid civilian casualties at all cost, so that the populace would see the truth and possibly revolt against their Astroneous masters. Killing civilians by accident happens, but at least the Zerelf didn’t take advantage of the people like the AU do, muttered Erzan with a heaving sigh.
Are the theories about souls being pulled down by Earth’s gravity really true I wonder? We of Zerelf have lived beyond the pull of the Earth, so maybe there is some validity to that statement. Head filled with complex philosophizing, Erzan rocketed toward the Randolf.
“Gairia, we are ready,” Junca, a pilot of a Vica said, his MS pounding up beside the Lieutenant. “The red one isn’t so bad, so long as we boost out of the way of its mega particle cannon, and that…whatever its supposed to be-the four legged blue MS is a great sniper, but that”-
“-I know,” growled Gairia. “The white one with the horns is the worst, as its got that mid range mega particle rifle.” He rubbed his chin. “It must be the horns.”
“With all due respect sir, they all have horns.” Put in the third Vica pilot.
“A joke,” Gairia muttered almost to himself. “The retreat’s up. While our other forces pull out, we stall the demon suits.” No sooner did the words leave his mouth then the monstrosity in question, the white mobile suit, appeared from amidst the smoke and ashes of the ruined Goldmoss hill.
The head of the machine was shaped almost human-like, with air vents on the side instead of ears and elongated hexagons for eyes. The mouth might have reminded Gairia of a samurai’s helmet, but he knew not what a samurai was.
The red crest on the machine’s forehead sported a pair of long white horns, fitting for a devil. The mobile suit sported a pair of thin circular hilts on its back like a pair of swords-a new marvel of technology-beam sabers. Those alone made the thing worth fearing.
But Gairia’s attention riveted on the normal sized gun in its left hand, a beam rifle that could destroy one of his Vica in a single shot. The white mobile suit sported a shield in its right hand. What struck the veteran soldier was that even after enduring constant battle; the monstrous MS hadn’t even been scratched.
“Keep your spirits high, and your heads down low,” snapped Gairia. “The Vica’s shields will block or deflect the beam from that gun, but watch the sabers. Stay in midrange combat, or you’re dead. Clear?”
The two pilots on either side of Gairia barked their affirmative over the comm unit, their unintelligible voices scrambled by the minovsky particles, a form of jamming that was the after effect of the minovsky flight systems used by the warships to fly and hover.
His Vica’s hover sled roared to life, lifting Gairia off the ground and above his subordinates, providing a protective dust cloud to hide them. “I’ll get him when he ain’t looking, you distract him,” he commanded. “On my mark. One, two…Mark!”