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Chapter Text

Mousa hit Core 3!

One moment Haman was her typical self. Shrugging off his banter (even if she was sentimental deep down, Rasara had so called it) and deploying her funnels to throw him off while she deployed her beam sabers. The next the world was crashing around them. The shock of the impact slammed both him and Haman into the colony’s walls. The artificial sky shattered, leaving nothing but brown and grey walls surrounding them. The trees in front of Neo-Zeon’s parliament were ripped from the ground instantly, shot through whatever hole got torn in the colony’s walls as the air escaped. He flicked down his helmet’s visor and fought to get the Double Zeta to move its ass already. He was a sitting duck when those funnels came back!

But the surprise grief hit him like a sucker punch right to the gut not a second later. Mousa hit Core 3! The Nahel Argama caused them to crash! Images flooded his head, landscapes he didn’t know or were only vaguely familiar. But the sense of loss was painful and palpable and through the confusion, there was a common thread of home. Monsa was Haman’s home, and it was being destroyed around her. Core 3 was where she was going to live, and it too was shattered.

What if it was Shangri-La in ruins? The sky smashed to bits, the roads and buildings crushed, the people torn away from their homes and out into the cold void of space-

Focus, idiot! This wasn’t time for Newtype bullshit! Judau shook his head to clear his thoughts. Haman had taken off, trying to put distance between them. He pushed forward, giving chase and yelling after her.

“It’s over, Haman! All your footholds have been destroyed!”

It was a mistake, he felt it the second the words left him. Her anguish turned to red-hot rage and her white Qubeley spun in the air, its bright pink eye seeming to flash with her fury.

“You will not speak to me like that, you insolent boy!”

The Qubeley drew its beam sabers, one in each hand. It was all he could do to toss his nearly-empty rifle and grab his own saber before Haman was on him. Their beams crackled, shaking the Double Zeta.

C’mon, Double Zeta! Hold out for me!

Just as suddenly as the onslaught began, the Qubeley stored its beams and shot away. Before he could track it, something heavy slammed into his back. The Double Zeta rocked forward, and try as he might he couldn’t move its arms or break free.

“I’ve taken your rear, Judau!”

He tried again to shake her loose, but the Qubeley wouldn’t budge. Five funnels pointed straight at him, staring him down. No, staring them both down!

“Are you insane? You’ll die too!”

A chuckle came through his comms. It was bitter. Resigned. “Perhaps... Judau Ashta!”

He did the only thing he could think of, disconnecting the Double Zeta’s core top from its base. The funnels’ beams just barely missed him... And Haman, still holding the base. She said something he didn’t bother hearing, instead slashing wildly in front of him. He got one funnel, then two more. There were still two... But they didn’t fire.

Why, Haman?!

What were they fighting for? Why did she insist on coming out here if she was going to get herself killed? Stupid, crazy woman! He ejected his core fighter too, turning through the air and firing upon the Qubeley. It was a desperate shot, but no way did he want to die here-

The Qubeley reached out, slamming its arm into him. Its fingers barely missed getting hold of him, but he was thrown off balance, spinning through the colony’s remaining air. Without the autobalancers kicking in he was nauseous in moments, but he just barely managed to eject and engage his jets, slipping through the wreckage.

This wasn’t good. He needed a distraction. He needed something!

“Why are you doing this? What’s the point? It’s over! Everyone came together to defeat you! Even your own goons!”

Pistol shots fired out behind him, but every beam fell short. Where were those funnels? If one of those hit anywhere close to him he’d be dead in a heartbeat. Kicking off a piece of scrap, he found cover behind a larger twisted hunk of metal. One last shot whizzed by his head a second after.

“I fight alone, as I always have! To be human is to be alone.”

In another stroke of luck, a pipe floated by. Judau grabbed it, the cold metal piercing through his thick gloves. He floated between pieces of the destroyed colony, sensing for Haman’s presence.

There!

Reactivating his verniers, he shot forward, charging at Haman and swinging his makeshift bat down on her pistol. She was surprised and let go. The momentum shoved them both forward. Judau expected her to thrash and fight, but Haman barely moved.

Why was she out of the Qubeley? She really was barking mad. Any bit of scrap metal could knock her out cold! If she wanted him dead, she could have used the funnels. Why the hell-

“Judau, come with me."

Despite himself he shuddered, like all the heat was sucked out of his suit with the colony’s air. It wasn’t just connecting with him, it was an outright command this time, all her will being plied in his direction. God.

Would she never quit?

Judau looked up and their eyes met, only faintly shielded by their visors and the reflection of the debris behind them bouncing off. No. She was never going to give up. She was way too stubborn. And for what?

Her voice rang through his head. He ached, yearned for her, and the mindfuck of it was he had no idea where Haman’s will ended and his began right now. It would be so easy to give in, give up, do what she wanted. She was beautiful. Even the first day they met, right here with her hair wet and disheveled and a gun pointed at him Haman was one damn fine woman. Even with the crazy, even with her world crumbling around her.

But... But..!

“... If you think humans are all alone so bad, Haman, then why are you callin’ for me?”

Up close and personal like this, he could see the shock in her expression. He could feel her confusion, her annoyance and a flicker of worry, of fear, of... Of yearning? Was that what he was seeing? No way, right?

Then she shoved him away. The pressure around him snapped like a rope pulled too tight. “You cannot convince me. I will choose my own destiny!”

At least he was free. But again the pointlessness hit him. “Go wherever you’re goin’ yourself, then!” She was going back to the Qubeley. He had to reach the core fighter or he was toast. He had enough juice in his verniers to get there fast, climbing back into the cockpit and going for the controls. But a weight sank in his stomach when he pulled on the lever to close the windshield nothing happened. He tried again. Nope. He went for the engine. Nothing. It was dead.

“No! Move! C’mon, c’mon...” She was coming! He could hear the Qubeley roar to life, feel its psycommu system readying its funnels for use. She wouldn’t even need them if he couldn’t move. Maybe she’d vaporize him instead. “Move!”

She was here. Judau couldn’t help but look up and stare his destiny in the face. It’s what a real man should do. “Haman-”

The Qubeley stopped. No, it was thrown back, its arms raised as if shielding itself from a powerful attack.

Then Judau felt it. A presence- No! More than one. Kamille first, somehow, bright and warm like the sun’s real glow in the desert on Earth. Then others, following along. He didn’t know them, but they were all here, all summoned here, all called to this moment.

Ple...

Elpeo Ple was here too, even if she didn’t speak.

Haman yelled something that sounded like Kamille Bidan. Judau hardly noticed. The Double Zeta's core fighter finally moved. Its electronics stayed dead, but somehow it was moving anyways, drawn towards the mech's base. Finally the thrusters flared to life, transforming back into docked mode with no need for him to do anything.

What was happening?

“M-Move! Why won’t my arms...”

What was going on? He reached out for answers, and another flood of images entered his head. The Zeta, flying through space. People dying all around, AEUG and Titan and Axis alike. A woman with bobbed brown hair in a yellow suit, holding onto his arm and whispering her last words.

Use my life...

The dead... They were using the Double Zeta, just like they’d used the Zeta before it.

“I understand... All of your power is in the Gundam!”

The Double Zeta powered on the moment all three pieces had combined. But its lights and display seemed brighter, somehow. More vivid, like on a movie screen. Small shapes and sparks seemed to fly at the corners of his vision, but Judau put them out of his mind, focusing on the Qubeley. Kamille was holding it in place for him. The souls around him were united in purpose.

Show her... Stop her... Fight her-

Save her.

New voices. Other voices, just barely feeling familiar. Whose voices were those?

Help her. Help her. Save her. Show her.

“How?” He’d tried so many times now! She was too damn stubborn to listen to reason! “I would if I knew how! How do I make her see? How do I get through her thick skull?”

She wasn’t always like this.

It wasn’t just one voice, but several that seemed to say it at once. Even the presence that felt like Kamille’s. “Is that you, Kamille?”

She rejected me, but reached out to you. It’s sad, but we need to end this. All of us. Together.

The voices grew, speaking in a litany of whispers that would be a cacophony if they got any louder. The words blurred together into indecipherable noise, bits of save her and kill her, but their wills were tangible and more importantly, powerful. They were holding the Qubeley and had the potential to do... Something. Destroy or... Or what? How could he save her?

The Double Zeta’s lights glimmered, blinking in odd patterns like flashing stars. He’d never seen those patterns before. He’d never seen the glow surrounding the Double Zeta either, and he wasn’t sure whether it was Kamille’s power or coming from the biosensor. Maybe it was a bit of both.

The biosensor itself felt louder than usual at the back of his mind, purring with a faint hum.

All together... There’s people trying to protect her, but we can convince them. She has to be stopped.

“Haman...”

Judau looked away from the lights and towards the Qubeley. It was eerily motionless. Haman must still be struggling with the controls in her mobile suit. Was she begging her suit to move, just like he had with his core fighter? She wasn’t the type of person who would accept a bunch of souls appearing during their one on one duel and do nothing.

“... She unified so many people, and she still thinks she’s alone. She still thinks humanity deserves her hatred! I want to tear down her hatred! I want to grind it into dust! I want to make her see reason! I’ll make her change her mind!”

As foul as she could be, as much as she might piss him off, somehow... Somehow he could find things to like about Haman. Little glimmers here and there, like the obvious sentimentality she tried to pretend she didn’t have. As bullheaded as she was, that strength of will of hers would be a virtue in some other context. And yeah, she was smoking hot. He was a man, there was no shame in admitting that. All together she was the most frustrating woman in the universe. If only she would listen!

Then let’s do it. Feel the wills around you. Let them lead you where you need to be.

Judau took a heavy breath in, then out. Alright. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but he had faith in them! “C’mon then! Show me what you’ve all got!”

A bright surge of energy flared around him immediately. He’d thought Kamille was strong before, but the combined energy of who knew how many people was something else. Searing energy coursed through his veins, steaming off of him in a bright red aura he could actually see rising up and coiling in on itself. The Biosensor’s display blinked, funneling energy to the Double Zeta’s high mega cannon.

A force suddenly grappled with him, pulling him away from focusing his energy on the Double Zeta.

We aren’t finished, Judau!

In his spectral vision he could see a brilliant pink glow coming from the Qubeley, even if the machine itself was still being pinned down. Kamille’s blue aura was attempting to hold her back but she was so powerful, so determined, she was managing to shove through Kamille’s psychic barrier and reach him. His anger flared and Judau shoved her power away.

Enough, Haman! You never know when to quit! You could have saved humanity if you were this stubborn about doing good things for people instead of spreading hate and despair!

The Federation needed to be broken! Only then could we create a world for Newtypes! Are you really so naive to believe the Federation will make anything better for you, Judau? They had the gall to abandon the colonies after unleashing the Titans upon them! They will abandon you as everyone else has during the course of your life!

Screw the Feddies! It wasn’t about the Feddies or Zeeks, or even Oldtypes and Newtypes! You think I care about them? I care about people, Haman! I care about my Shangri-La crew and my sister, and you haven’t made a better world for any of ‘em! Where were you when Shangri-La needed someone to kick our bastard of a mayor out? Where were you when Stampa was kidnapping every pretty woman in Tigerbaum to be his slaves? You dropped a colony on millions of people! How’s the Earth supposed to hang on, huh?! What’s your world for Newtypes supposed to look like when it’s built on a mass grave?

What peace can come about without a sacrifice? The Federation struck first. I made a decisive blow to end things! And if that idiot Glemmy had known his place-

His fury surged. Judau shoved back against her spiritual presence again. WAKE UP, HAMAN! Don’t you feel the souls around us? Do you think they want what you’re selling? Why are you like this? What the hell happened to you to make your blood burn with so much hate? Tell me, Haman!

Judau! Kamille called out to him, but it was too late. He was clashing with a wave of indignant fury from Haman. There were no words, just emotion spilling from her aura and mixing with his. The images flooded in again, making him cringe and wince as they flashed by now in a near-painful strobe. He could barely tell who they were, just the emotions with them, faces and feelings and so many Zeon uniforms blending together and nothing made sense-

He heard Haman cry out over the comms and knew she was seeing something similar. Their bond went both ways. But he was too distracted by everything around him to figure out what exactly she was getting a look at, and frankly he couldn’t care when he was getting mind blasted.

“H-Haman, stop, just-!”

But even if she would, she couldn’t; neither of them could. They were too entwined, the end of one of them bleeding into the other. He was falling, spiraling down, getting swallowed into a deep gravity well. The debris, the colonies smashing together, it was all gone, replaced with the neon light of psychic energy and shreds of memories not his own.

Kamille! Anyone! Please!

They were here, Kamille and his friends, they were trying to separate them, trying to stop whatever this was, but Kamille was millions of miles away and the others were dead. The dead, he realized, had nothing on the power of the living.

A loud metallic screech suddenly filled the air, followed by a powerful jolt. The images cut off, burned away in an instant by an intense pink light. There was nothing he could do to cover his eyes but close them, and even then the light was searingly bright, too bright. It had to stop, make it stop, he’d go blind-

But just as soon as it happened, the light was snuffed out, replaced by nothing but the darkness.

Judau groaned, falling forward and shuddering. He took in deep, unsteady breaths, and after maybe fifteen of those the nausea started to finally subside. After a good few more seconds, he felt steady enough to open his eyes. At least the flood had stopped.

There was nothing familiar to see in front of him. All light was gone, replaced with a deep void. The cockpit was gone too, though he was still sitting on something soft. Reaching out, the air itself flickered and shifted like light catching water- but there was no coolness or the texture of water to go along with it.

A perfumed scent drifted by, and Judau turned his head, but there was no more to see on his right than on his left.

Haman?

If she was here with him, she didn’t answer. She couldn’t be, if she was here she’d have something to say about what the hell had just happened. She was always going on about something when they met. It was just him in this strange place.

He wasn’t dead, was he? He felt the blood pounding through his head... He wouldn’t feel that if he was dead. At least, that’s what he told himself.

A different smell caught his attention, drawing his attention forward again. It was some kind of flower, he could tell that much, but he didn’t know enough of the difference between flowers to know which one it was. It was sweet, maybe it belonged to a fruit tree. But where was it coming from? Everything was so still. Only the smallest flickers of light broke through to reach him, fuzzy images with warping colours that faded the moment he tried to focus on them.

A quieter, gentler laugh filled his mind. He didn’t know this voice, but it was warm, curious. Hm. I don’t get many visitors. Where were you trying to go, Judau Ashta? Seeing time takes practice when you still have a body.

The air left him in little silver bubbles, but breathing felt no heavier than normal. Despite his helmet still being on the bubbles floated away without getting trapped. Who are you?

She chucked. Just a special kind of girl.

Am I dead?

Another laugh. Haha! No. You’re not dead. Not right now. But if you don’t go back soon you could lose your body.

How do I get back?

You really are interesting. You didn’t hesitate for a moment. The voice stopped for a few moments, like it was thinking about something. You woudn’t find peace, would you. Not yet. You still have more you want to do. Always going, never stopping. Just like someone else. Don’t worry. You’re so close. I’ll help put you where you need to be.

How incredibly cryptic. Judau wanted to ask more, but he didn’t get the chance; the air flickered again, rippling. There was suddenly a lot to see- The void parted in a stream of water, waves shooting upward to reveal a hazy shape in the air, maybe ten steps away. It was a woman wearing a bright yellow dress that flowed along in a wind he couldn’t feel. She had dark skin and darker hair, nearly as black as where they stood. She looked at him, smiling, and her eyes were the most intense green he’d ever seen. But the moment snapped, a flood and roar crashed over him, the woman was gone in the confusion-

Say hello to the Captain for me.

A jolt ran through him and Judau sat up, opening his eyes. The cockpit was back. He was in the Double Zeta, surrounded by the familiarity of space again. Had he fallen asleep? Was it all a dream? Whoever that ‘special’ girl was, she wasn’t here anymore. He didn’t see or feel her presence.

Where was here anyway? It didn’t look like the ongoing wreckage of Side 3. It couldn’t have been a dream. If he somehow passed out during his fight with Haman he’d be dead right now, and he felt pretty damn alive at the moment, just like the mystery woman had said. And if the whole day was a dream, he’d be in the Nahel Argama, not sitting in the Double Zeta looking out at the vast sea of stars. So where was he? It wasn’t Earth either, he didn’t see the silver glow of the Moon or the blue planet humanity came from. So where was this? There was so much debris around...

An explosion lit up the sky in a fiery blaze. Where? Behind him! He turned to his four o’clock.

It wasn’t just an explosion, a Musai was breaking apart only metres away from a Federation ship. An old one, too- Was that a Magellan-class, or a Salamis? Either way, what were such old ships doing wherever this was?

Attacking each other, apparently.

But what immediately got Judau’s attention were five shadows in the light of the explosion. Four were the typical mint green of GMs, but the fifth was a weird little white thing. What was that? A Dom? He’d never seen a Dom painted white before. And what was one doing out here? No one had used Doms for years now. It wasn’t moving at all, not to attack, not to move, nothing. It didn’t even look like it had weapons at all...

The GMs drew their beam sabers.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

A pure wave of terror resonated from the small suit at the same time as he heard its pilot scream. Instinctively Judau drew his own saber and charged forward. It didn’t matter that they were GMs and it was a Dom, or that there was a whole-ass ship in front of him.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!”

He didn’t think about it. Thinking didn’t matter. His gut told him to save the Dom, to save the terrified Newtype who’d so strongly called to him. The GMs turned towards him and he ran his beam saber right through the head, then slashed down through the arm holding its saber. Another wide arc took out a second GM. The last two were further away and stared for a moment. They had to be in shock.

“You wanna live? Get the hell out of here!”

They didn’t listen. Instead it was like he broke them out of shock. They aimed for him, but were too slow- They’d gotten their warning. Judau charged forward, ramming into one of the GMs and plunging his saber through its chest. The other fired, but the beam was low energy and didn’t get through his anti-beam coating. Still, it hit his shoulder and he turned around and went after it next. It swerved to avoid his slash, but Judau still took off its right arm.

The GM turned and rushed back to the Magellan. No reason to chase or stop it. Its pilot was probably gonna get an earful. He watched it go to make sure it wasn’t about to turn and pull out a beam rifle, and when it didn’t he turned to the Dom.

“Hey, pilot! Can you move?”

It took a precious second, but he heard that voice again, shaken but able to speak. “I- N-no, I can’t! My suit is malfunctioning.”

Of course it was. That was going to make things a lot harder. Could he slash the hatch open? Maybe, but somehow that felt like the wrong move. He’d risk killing her in three different ways trying it. Could he grab her suit and pull her along? Yeah, but he’d be an easy target for those cannons. They were slowly starting to move in their direction, turning towards him.

He didn’t have time to make a good choice. He had to go with his gut.

“Unknown mobile suit, you have three seconds to identify yourself and surrender or we will open fire!”

Unknown mobile suit? Just who were these guys? Everyone around civilized space knew about the Double Zeta by now! Were they even real Feddies? Those were real GMs and a real Magellan-class, but who was out in the middle of wherever this was hunting down a single suit? Didn’t the Feds deployed out here have anything better to do?

“And who the hell are you, surrounding and threatening an unarmed suit? Back off!”

Their killing intent radiated off of the ship, pouring off of it in a thick wave. In a way he couldn’t blame them. He’d just killed three of their pilots and humiliated the last of them. But the Dom’s pilot was unarmed! She was no threat!

Shooting it out seemed like the only way forward. If that meant stalling, so be it. He was only going to get one shot. He needed all the time he could buy. His thumb twitched on the high mega cannon’s switch. Would he have enough time for it to charge? Would it eat up all his power?

“On whose authority? We are in charge here! We will not bow to a single Zeon suit! Prepare to be destroyed!”

It was almost typical Feddie bluster, except for one painful fact; they thought he was with Zeon? They were total idiots! He didn’t know how someone could mistake a Gundam for a Zeonic suit, but there was no time for in-depth analysis. He could already sense they wouldn’t back down, their words just confirmed it.

Another wave of their hatred surged towards him. The ship’s cannons were slowly moving to face him and the Dom.

Kamille had given him close to a full tank. No time to mull it over. It was them or him and this pilot. So be it.

He hit the button.

It took another few seconds for the high mega cannon to charge up. He could hear the sudden panic in Magellan-class’ crew as the cannon surged to life. He could feel it through the biosensor, will it towards the ship in front of him. They were too slow to reposition their guns; they must have been damaged somehow, maybe when the Musai exploded.

He fired first. The Double Zeta rocked and shook as the suit’s purple beam blasted through the Magellan’s bridge.

He’d seen ships torn apart, ripped to shreds by powerful lasers. The high mega cannon might not have Gryps’ power, but the result was the same. The metal was torn away by raw energy, melting where it didn’t come apart. The people inside died instantly, reduced to not even ash. Their deaths never hit him the way they did Kamille, but he could still feel their souls ripped from their bodies and leaving this plane.

If only they’d stopped like he’d told them to! He wouldn’t have fired if they’d given up, or at least been willing to talk it out! They could have lived. Damn adults, damn Federation!

Judau barely had time to dwell on it. As their left side caught fire and an explosion rang out, he felt a presence coming up fast. A crushing, disturbing presence, what the hell-

He barely had time to turn and raise his saber before it charged forward, thrusters blazing hot to slow down. It was a monster of a mech, a huge red thing with giant shoulders and a large, protruding abdomen, more like a giant bloated insect than a humanoid suit. It didn’t have legs, only small, gangly arms compared to its main body and beam rifles sticking out, pointing his way.

Its single eye stared him down, its pilot projecting their intent to kill. It had a cannon kind of like his just below its eye, looking like a giant mouth.

The thing began to heat up, charging a beam. Shit! Could he charge up the high mega cannon again? It would take all he had, but it was his only shot-

The Dom spoke up. “Captain, no!”

“Haman!”

Wait-

“He saved my life, Captain! My bits were destroyed when the Musai exploded! He fired on the ship to save me. Don’t hurt him! No, I command you not to kill him!”

“Haman. You’re in no position to command me to do anything.” But the voice on the line did seem to be considering her words, which was a small silver lining. The giant mobile armor’s cannon stopped charging, though its monoeye was still affixed on him. “His suit isn’t one of ours. He must be Federation.”

No position? Was this the same Haman? It couldn’t be, even if their voices sounded close to one another. Come to think of it, the pilot’s voice was very familiar. But it couldn’t be her. Haman wouldn’t beg anyone to save someone’s life and no one would tell Haman off for ordering them around. It must be a coincidence.

The Dom’s pilot, the other Haman, continued. “Why would he destroy his own ship, Captain? He’d leave himself stranded in space! He can’t be Federation!”

Time to improvise before he was toast. “I’m not one of them! I’m a Spacenoid! I’m from Shangri-La! Side 1!”

“Side 1? And the first-ever colony, no less. How did you manage to make it all the way out here?”

Wherever here was. But good luck getting that info when he didn’t know what he should and shouldn’t know. Judau played along. “I stole their suit and broke outta the ship, how else?”

It was almost true. Technically true. Hey, true enough! He had stolen the Zeta and taken the Double Zeta out for plenty of unsanctioned rescue missions. This might as well be one of them!

The ‘captain’ hummed thoughtfully. “So it is a Federation suit. And you stole it? How, exactly, did you manage that?”

“I stowed away on the ship. When the battle kicked off, I broke into the best-looking suit to get the hell outta there!”

It was a flimsy lie, but it was all he could think of that made even an ounce of sense. He couldn’t exactly say he had a Newtype moment with Haman Karn and a mystery woman and suddenly found himself here in the middle of a Federation ship and a Dom about to get vaporized.

“Hm. You stowed away. And you were able to pilot this suit well enough to pose a threat to a Federation ship and crew?”

Damn it. He didn’t have anything convincing to say about that one. All he could do was roll with it. “Yeah, I guess. I handled petit mobile suits back on Shangri-La. It’s not that different.” It was very different, but what else could he say? There was no way he’d be experienced with the Double Zeta without being involved with the Federation somehow.

This was probably the worst lie he’d ever told. But he was committed now. If he backed out this captain guy would kill him for sure. Could he get away? He doubted it. He was only at about half-power right now and there wasn’t so much of a hint at there being any Federation or AEUG ships around. Plus, he’d need to deal with the monster of a mobile armour that had come to the Dom’s rescue. There was an anti-beam coating on the thing, beam sabers were a no-go. And if he fired the high mega cannon again he’d be out of juice in the middle of space. Nah. The best way would probably be to get taken in and escape as soon as he could. Snag a ship and run, or find a way to call the Nahel Argama. Yeah, that sounded like a plan. He’d have to play it by ear, but he could improvise just like he always had.

Things would turn out fine.

The other pilot piped up. “Should we not at least take him back to Axis and question him there, Captain Char?”

To Axis? Captain Char? Char Aznable was in that mobile armour?

No. None of that made sense! Char had allied himself with Haman? If the Red Comet was there they’d know it, right? Everyone thought Char Aznable died at the end of the Gryps Conflict. No one had seen him since. And the way Bright made it sound he’d hated Haman. And Axis? They’d just taken Axis! How-

Something nagged at Judau. He tapped some buttons on his console, trying to get a look at his surroundings. He zoomed in on the brightest light in the sky, trying to gauge its distance.

His heart sank. The sun was so far away. Too far away. He’d never seen it so small. But there were no other stars it could be than the sun. Wait, then the debris out there...

He was in the asteroid belt. Somehow he’d been brought to the asteroid belt. And Char Aznable, a dead man walking, was grabbing the Double Zeta with an outstretched metal claw. Its other claw held the white Dom, which looked like it still wasn’t responding.

“No funny business, now. You’re six months away from any other human civilization. I suggest you be on your best behaviour. What’s your name?”

He should be telling Char to watch the paint. He should be saying he could fly back on his own. He didn’t need kiddie gloves. Wherever they were going (Axis???) half a tank should be enough to get there. But his mouth had gone dry and nothing made sense. All he could manage to get out was the smallest “Judau Ashta.”

“Judau Ashta...”

Haman. It was more than just similar, it was her voice. Even if she was saying his name with a contemplative tone instead of a condescending one. No matter how impossible (add it to the pile of impossible things happening, at this point) it should be, it was Haman Karn in that Dom.

And she had no idea who he was. She didn’t know his mobile suit either. And she hadn’t acted how he would expect someone as intense as Haman to act on the battlefield. Haman had stared him down with no protection when he was about to run her through with a mobile suit. Nothing added up and it was giving him a serious headache.

“Captain Char, what will we do with the Federation ship?”

“It may have useful supplies, and some survivors might have ejected into the surrounding area. We’ll organize a search party and bring them in. But you, young lady, will have to face your father and justify your actions. If not for this pilot, you could have easily been killed.”

Haman had a father she was reporting to? Not the Haman he’d known.

He could hazily feel a buzz of indignant energy from the Dom. Judau couldn’t help but chuckle. That was a more familiar feeling.

“If I had not gone, who would have rallied our forces? Axis would have fallen if not for the brave people who defended it.”

“People paid with their lives today, Haman. I’m sure you felt that. We lost many good men and women out there.”

“... I know.” She was quietly thoughtful for a few moments, but then continued. “But you can’t tell me, Captain, that it would have been better for us to let their boots rest on our throats. We’re the last free remnants of Zeon.”

“No. I suppose you have a point there.”

Their boots, huh. He couldn’t say he was really a friend of the Federation. Spacenoids were nothing more than useful tools at best for the Feddies, and at worst cockroaches that just wouldn’t die. It wasn’t like they ever bothered making things better for the people they were responsible for. No, even worse, the cushy bastards at the top sat pretty in their neat little mansions while the world burned around them. But no way could anyone from Zeon say they had the moral high ground dropping colonies on the Earth and shooting down any civilian ships trying to escape the blast zone. He was there when it happened. He saw the destruction, heard the crashing and twisting of metal. He felt the shockwave upon the initial impact. He felt the souls of the dead and dying and heard their pained screams. Was someone who could choose such a horrific course of action even human anymore?

“Apolly, Roberto, do you read me?”

He’d been lost in his thoughts. Judau looked up. Two Zakus approached them, and just like every other suit he’d seen so far except for the big mobile armour they looked a generation or two behind the times.

“Captain! We’re still mopping up the GMs, but most of them saw their flagship explode and surrendered. They’re getting escorted back to Axis. There’s only a few stragglers left, and we’ll handle ‘em. Was it you who took that Magellan-class down?”

“No, not me. This suit and its pilot managed that.”

The two suits’ monoeyes rotated to look at him, seemingly only just now noticing him. One of the pilots reacted before the other. “Shiiiieeeeet! What is that thing? Looks Feddie.”

“It is. The pilot says he stowed away and stole it as the battle broke out.”

“Wow. That’s one hell of a story. You believe it?”

There was silence after that that stretched out uncomfortably long. They must have switched to another channel to talk about him. They were probably discussing whether he was a spy. As if. A spy worth anything would try to be discreet, right? Not blast the fleet’s flagship apart without any real hope for the survivors on their side. Maybe that would convince them he was trustworthy, or at least give them a little wiggle room to doubt. There wasn’t much to do about it now, so Judau sighed and leaned back in the Double Zeta’s seat, looking ahead.

There it was. Axis, and looking remarkably good for an asteroid colony that had been a warzone a day ago. It wasn’t exactly a surprise by now. He’d put it at a solid four out of ten. Whatever was going on, this was just part of it.

Haman didn’t seem to like the silence either, and spoke up. “This is Axis. Zeon’s last stronghold.”

He knew, but he whistled to seem impressed. Most people would probably be at least a little impressed. He couldn’t say he wasn’t a little intimidated by it the first time.

Luckily, the silence didn’t last too much longer, and the captain got moving again, switching his comms back over to the common frequency. “We’re returning to Axis. Judau, you’re going to leave your mobile suit first. Keep your hands up and again, don’t try anything funny. We won’t shoot you if you cooperate. Haman, you’ll leave your suit after he leaves his. Understand?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Aye aye.” Captain this, captain that. Sheesh. It was like being around Captain Bright all over again. It seemed like Char Aznable was above his sass, though, and didn’t comment on it, holding onto both their suits and leading them forward to one of Axis’ launch decks.

... There was no way to turn back now, huh? Not that he wanted to to begin with. Starving to death seemed like an awful way to go, and that’s if he didn’t suffocate or die of thirst first. No, there was nothing out there for him. The best thing he could do was rest up, recuperate, and figure out what the hell was going on before figuring out how to get out of here and back to the Nahel Argama.

... If there was even a Nahel Argama to go back to. But he had to think positively. One step at a time, Judau. He’d escaped from Axis before. He’d do it again.

The landing bay was all sleek concrete and metal, like most landing bays he’d been in. The doors slowly closed behind them, and once shut and sealed soldiers came in and surrounded his Double Zeta. They were all wearing the green and silver of Zeon pilot suits. Not a single one had the custom looks of Axis’ greatest hits like Chara and Mashmyre. Guess none of ‘em were aces, not that it really mattered.

He opened up his hatch and as asked, put his hands up. They grabbed him and hauled him to his feet and out of the cockpit, but he’d figured they would. He got cold stares from the guy on his left and a bit of a grimace from the one on his right, but there were no insults thrown his way or rough treatment. He got patted down for weapons, then surprisingly they actually let him go as they descended the lift and reached the floor.

That massive machine of Char Aznable’s had landed too, and the hatch opened, revealing a blond man who stepped out not long after. He wasn’t wearing either a helmet or a pilot’s suit. He pulled out a huge set of sunglasses and put those on instead, shielding his eyes. He was dressed in red, of course; would he even be the Red Comet without red on? That’s where all the custom stuff was, looked like.

The Dom was nearby too, and by the time it was ready to open its hatch he was on the ground. A woman with short, slicked back hair shoved by the uniformed pilots, reaching the mobile suit before anyone else could.

“Haman! Haman!”

She actually pushed a concerned technician out of the way, barely waiting as the hatch opened up before diving into the cockpit herself. It didn’t take long for an annoyed sigh to leave the mech, followed by the shape of a woman in black stepping out of the Dom.

“Natalie, you’re embarrassing me... I’m perfectly fine, there was a pilot...”

She turned her head and their eyes met.

It was her. But it wasn’t her, not yet. Her hair was long, tied up in two braids on either side of her head. She was shorter than he remembered her, though the lack of heels probably wasn’t helping that.

How had this happened? How was he here? What year must it be? ‘81? ’82? It had to be one of the two. And here she was, Haman Karn in the flesh, with a real shine of hope in her stunning purple eyes. With curiosity, interest, and warmth in her gaze as she reached out with her Newtype abilities towards him.

What happened to you, Haman? Why are you like this?

Here he was, with a front row seat to find out.

Chapter Text

The pilot who rescued her was suited up, his piloting helmet still covering his face. His pilot suit seemed to be a custom affair, striped in an unusual white and red pattern. Neither the Federation nor Zeon were partial to the colour red, minus Captain Char’s choice to prominently display it on all of his mobile suits.

This man said he stole his mobile suit. Had he stolen this pilot suit as well? She would have expected a thief to take a standard normal suit.

He seemed to draw her in, but she finally tore her eyes away and looked up at the suit he’d come in with.

A Gundam...

It had to be a Gundam. There was no other explanation. It was not as blocky as the sketches delivered from Captain Char and the refugees who’d managed to escape the Battle of Solomon or A Baoa Qu with their lives, but its head, the fins framing its double-eyed face, even its bright white red and blue colours, they were all consistent with a Gundam.

But this must be a different Gundam than the White Devil of A Baoa Qu. Besides the blockiness and clear added bulk, its fins were inconsistent with the fin shape of the original. This one had two prongs, while every sketch of the other Gundam showed only a single fin. It was stockier, sturdier, and this one had managed to deflect a beam shot, meaning it must at least have a weak anti-beam coating. Then there was the matter of the giant cannon lodged in its head, similar to the Zero the R Captain Char had sortied in. The Federation had managed to store such a weapon in a small suit when they could only manage the same in a mobile armour...

Had this Gundam been sent to destroy Axis completely? Was this a test for a new prototype model? How could they be so ahead of Zeon’s technological capabilities? She’d always heard it said that Zeon was far more advanced than the Federation, that a lack of trained pilots and Newtypes were becoming the deciding factors in the war. Zeon had the technology, but not the personnel. But this suit was clearly a top of the line, advanced model. The Federation were clearly keeping pace with Zeon ever since the end of the war.

Perhaps because they’d taken control of Zeon’s former research centres. Perhaps they even had information from the Flanigan Institute...

She shuddered and looked away, willing her thoughts somewhere else. They found an easy subject in returning to the Gundam’s pilot. Judau Ashta, apparently from Shangri-La.

What brought you all the way to Axis, Judau Ashta?

He was not telling them everything, that much was obvious. The Federation flagship had wanted him to identify himself. They knew nothing about this Gundam, and likely nothing about its pilot either. It had to have come from one of the Federation ships, he couldn’t have appeared from nowhere... But it was not from their flagship. This Gundam was secret even from the fleet’s command. The pilot suit he wore fit him perfectly, where she would expect a stolen custom suit to be a bit too short or too long. It did not show any obvious Federation identifiers, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t Federation. But why destroy his only means home if he didn’t mean to defect? Was he trying to escape? Had he been an inadvertent test candidate, pulled from Shangri-La and made to serve in attacking Axis?

She was getting ahead of herself. One step at a time. But look! He was taking off his helmet.

He had deep brown hair, neither short and buzzed as several of the career soldiers nor the long shaggy styles she’d seen on many of the young refugees to Axis. It was somewhere in the middle, fluffing up with his helmet- The pilot seemed aware of it and lightly shook his head, though that did little to get it into a more proper look. When he looked up again he once more looked in her direction, and Haman was stunned at the green of his eyes. A pale colour, paler than she’d ever seen naturally in a person before yet still distinctly green.

Absinthe. The colour of poison, if one believed in superstitions. An alluring green that drove people to madness. And the pilot those eyes belonged to grinned and waved at her, even though it got him jabbed by one of his escorting guards.

She wanted to get a better look at him and sensed she might not get the chance any time soon if she didn’t take it now. Natalie had left the cockpit and was saying something to her, but she hadn’t been paying attention. Wordlessly, she hopped down from the hatch, the low gravity slowing her fall.

“Haman!”

Natalie called after her, but she touched the ground and immediately shoved against it to float in Judau’s direction. The guards eyed her, then him, uncertain of what to do. They looked towards Captain Char- She could already sense his unease from across the hangar bay. She wouldn’t get much time at all. She gripped onto the railing before she floated past where they were standing and twisted around through the air, landing on the lift and facing the pilot.

“I had to thank you personally. You saved my life and likely those of many of Zeon’s pilots today, Judau Ashta.”

Her father would have urged discretion. Captain Char would likely scold her, as would Natalie. But let the guards talk amongst each other about their surprise guest. He had done a good deed today, even if his circumstances were suspicious. Out there, in the wreckage and chaos of the asteroid field, she had cried out and he had come for her. He had saved her when no one else could. Not even the Captain. And if he was Federation, he had done it at immense risk to himself.

He was young. She had heard the Gundam’s pilot was a teenager around her age, and Judau Ashta looked barely older, if that. Was this to be typical of the Federation, or something reserved for the pilots of Gundams? In either case, he chuckled, smoothing his hair back a bit to try to tame it. “Ah, don’t make a big deal of it. I couldn’t let such a beautiful woman die to a bunch of GMs, you know?”

She laughed. He was a charmer, was he? “I see.” The compliment was flattering, but she was already acting starstruck enough. She tried to take it in stride. “But you didn’t know I was a beautiful woman when you rescued me, did you?”

He chuckled again, smoothing out his hair once more. It must be a nervous habit. “Guess you got me there.”

“I’m Haman Karn. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Judau.”

Something passed over his expression, but she didn’t know how to identify it before he smoothed it away and smiled again. “Likewise, Haman.”

“Haman!”

She ignored Captain Char for the moment and extended her hand, offering Judau a handshake. After only the slightest hesitation, he took it.

The streets were jammed together, offering barely any space between concrete and sheet metal buildings. The air was thick with smog and smoke, the vents in the ground endlessly whirring to get the worst of it away and bring in good air. They had slowed over the years, disrepair making them grind to half their intended speed. The blades were black with soot and grime. There was garbage in the streets and vagrants screaming at nothing, staggering and just barely swinging out of the road.

A boy rushed through the streets, weaving through the adults in his way. He couldn’t be more than twelve, dressed in slightly too big clothes. “Leina! Leina! I hit the motherlode at the yard today! C’mon, get the oven hot! We’re eating good tonight!”

An even younger girl stepped out onto a rickety balcony just barely holding on with a few planks and a rigged piece of metal as a railing. It was clearly the ‘Leina’ the boy was calling to. They must be siblings; they had similar hair (minus the girl’s little bear-shaped barrettes) and the same pale shade of green eyes. “Judau! You’re home!”

“Yeah, I’m home! And I’ve got something great, look!” He had money in one (filthy, grimy) hand, gilla from the looks of it, and a dead chicken in the other. It still had its feathers, head and feet attached.

“Ewww! That’s disgusting, Judau!”

“It’s meat, c’mon! I got a good deal! We can cook it and freeze it so you’ve got sandwiches for weeks!”

She stuck out her tongue as Judau ran to the door, barely able to contain his excitement long enough to pull out the keys to the door. The girl kept yelling as Judau opened it and went inside. “I don’t want to pluck it! I’ll have to clean feathers for a whole week! And the head’s still on!”

“I’ll help, I’ll help! Come on, Leina, it’ll be fun! We’ll cut off its head!”

The walls of their home were a faded, cracking yellow, with narrow halls and weak floorboards that creaked as Judau ran over them with his prize. Leina yelled at him from upstairs.

“Mama would never get an unplucked chicken, Judau!”

She felt the sting of those words as though they had been spoken to her. Judau looked up the stairs, frowning in sudden anger. “Well Mama’s not here!”

Mama wasn’t there, not with her dark hair tied back and just as green eyes, but hazy features otherwise. Their father was long gone, so long his face didn’t even come to mind. It was just him and his sister and the chicken was a good price.

As Haman contemplated what she was witnessing, it twisted and changed, ripping them away from what must have been Shangri-La to a more familiar scene to her- A tightly-packed ballroom surrounded with tall, graceful women and men in military dress. She was hot in her dress, the collar was so tight she could barely breathe. The buttons were small and fussy, she couldn’t undo them without help, and in any case she wouldn’t dare here.

They were on Granada, years ago. Before the One Year War, while Zeon was still in its early days as a nation of its own. Her father was beside her, as were her sisters. Serrana, seemingly not noticing anything wrong and talking with some younger boy, and Marlene, standing stiff as a statue. She wore a smile, but it came nowhere close to her eyes.

What are they doing? What’s going on? As a teenager she knew. She felt a sinking pit in her stomach. But years ago, she didn’t understand why her sister was so upset, why her father was so upset but keeping it off his face.

A monstrous man stood beside a decrepit one. Sovereign Degwin Zabi had always looked two steps from death, even as a child. Reflecting on the memory did nothing to change her opinion. The blood-red suit and ornate cape with its giant Zabi eagle crest and his jeweled cane did nothing to offset his grey, sagging skin or his bloated appearance. These days she would have described him as a waterlogged corpse, a creature from some Earthly bog. Only his eyes had still held any glimmers of a sharp-minded and dangerous man.

His son, Dozle, was twice as massive to a child, and the two jagged battle scars running from his cheek to his chin and in the centre of his head did nothing to reassure her, nor did his brutish grin. She remembered the look he gave her dear older sister and how she had expected him to lick his lips as though he would devour her whole.

Her father should not fear these men. He stood tall and proud. Men stood silent when he spoke. Normally he would command the room’s presence with only a few passionate words, turn people’s hearts and minds. But that day, at this party, her father was frightened. And her sister? Marlene was terrified, stiff as carved marble.

The brute took her sister by the arm, led her away. Degwin gave her father a nauseating smile. Just like his son’s, but his lust was in the display of power. Even from a young age, she’d somehow understood that. It was about taking from another. From humiliating them.

“Your cooperation is greatly appreciated, Admiral Karn. Hm. I’ve considered your request for more... Family time. Dozle and I have been discussing the matter. I have just the appointment for all of you. Your daughter here, of course, will have to be withdrawn from the Flanigan Institute. Such a shame. Kycilia tells me she has great potential.”

She had been glad to hear it, despite the tension. She was at the Institute to help her father and country, but she did not enjoy it. But her joy was immediately crushed under a wave of hatred, making her look up at her father in confusion.

Her father hated this man. No one else might see it, but she felt it more powerfully than she had ever felt a single emotion from her father. Still he bowed, a hand over his chest.

“I am ever at your command, my lord.”

The words were like ice, cutting at her heart. This was the man they served? This was their leader? A man rotting both inside and out, who would take what he wanted at others’ expense? Who inspired hatred in a good man like her father and made him lie to their faces? She frowned, she balled her fists, stepped up in defiance and was going to speak-

Her father grabbed her arm, turned her towards him as Degwin walked away. His voice was a harsh whisper. “Don’t, Haman!”

“He took Marlene! He’s going to hurt her!”

“And it would be you if not her-”

Their contact broke. She’d been shoved away, hitting the railing again. Two arms grabbed her and steadied her- Natalie had made her way up here too. Captain Char was also here, standing between her and Judau Ashta. He had Judau by the collar, using his height to his advantage. She sensed anger from the Federation(?) pilot, but he had the good sense to not act on it and had his hands raised in surrender.

“What were you doing to her?!”

“Nothing, I swear, I didn’t mean to-”

She had to stop this. Judau was not to blame. “The fault is mine, Captain! I reached out to him. He’s like us! He’s a Newtype!” He’s like me!

Not in birth, not in status, but somehow so alike they had communicated with each other with only a simple touch. She had seen a piece of him, and he her in turn. It was... It was equally frightening and impressive.

Never had the Flanigan Institute managed to show her anyone’s memories, no matter what other potential Newtypes she interacted with. She had never known such a thing was possible. He had seen into her mind, yes, but she sensed it was not on purpose, or she would not have seen into his mind first before the flow of information was reversed.

If the guards were likely to whisper before, they openly did now, the shock of her statement only giving them a moment of silence before the rumours spread in real time. Another Newtype had arrived at Axis? First Captain Char, now this boy. What could this mean? Was his suit meant for Federation Newtypes? Was that how he destroyed a Magellan-class so quickly?

The best thing she could do for him was get the people talking. He wouldn’t be executed if there were whispers of a Newtype hero seeing the light of Zeon at Axis and turning the tide of the battle. Her father wouldn’t dare on the basis of pragmatism, if nothing else. It would be bad for morale. But first, the people needed to know about him, get it from a reliable source that he really was a Newtype and most importantly, that he was not the enemy.

But she was not expecting the Captain’s response. He turned towards her, fury lashing out like a whip. She flinched, expecting him to strike her-

“Captain Char!”

The blow didn’t come. Natalie had stepped forward, looking the Captain square in the eye. “Captain, control yourself! Remember where we are!”

The tension in the air was unbearable for a solid moment. The Captain was clenching his jaw, still tremendously angry. But finally, he controlled himself, lowering his arm but addressing her coldly.

“I’m deeply disappointed in you, Haman Karn. Do you think that because you’re a Newtype, you can look into people’s minds at will? I expected better from Admiral Karn’s daughter. Take her to her father, Natalie. He must be worried sick. As for you,” He turned away, focusing on Judau Ashta again. “You’re coming with me.”

Natalie sighed, but took her arm nonetheless. “The Captain’s right, Haman. Your father is worried sick. Come on.”

Unsettled by the Captain’s anger, Haman allowed herself to be taken away. Char hauled the pilot away by the shoulder, looking almost like he was carrying an angry cat. But before Judau was whisked down a hallway, he looked back towards her, his pale green gaze catching her own.

Don’t worry, he seemed to say. Then he was gone.

He barely had time to get over the shock of suddenly getting pulled into a Newtype moment and getting a much more comprehensible scene from Haman’s mind before he was getting shoved and hauled around by a furious Char Aznable. Someone might find that cool, but that someone sure as hell wasn’t him. He wouldn’t want to be manhandled by Amuro Ray either. He didn’t want to be manhandled at all.

It took all Judau’s restraint to not fight back, to let himself get dragged away down hallway after hallway and even an elevator. He had to be smart about this; he was still in space in the middle of nowhere by all reasonable standards. Fighting now would get him thrown in a cell at best and shot at worst. Haman made a solid effort at getting him released, but she obviously had nowhere near the authority she’d have in the future.

The future. That itself was crazy and he still didn’t have time to think about it. Once they were off the elevator after who knows how many floors he hadn’t been fully paying attention to, he was roughly shoved into a room barely bigger than a detention cell on the Nahel Argama with barely enough time to process it had a bed, a desk, and an armchair before Char was in his face.

“Just who the hell are you, really? Why are you here?”

He couldn’t help himself, he shoved Char away to get even an inch of breathing room. “I told you already-”

A fist slammed into his face, making him fall to the side and land against the corner. The pain seared through him, but at least it cleared his thoughts better than anything else. He glared at the Captain, who looked infuriatingly calm even if he was pissed off under those stupid shades.

“A Newtype pilot just happens to stow away on a Federation ship for six months without being noticed, then steals their best suit unopposed and pilots it well-enough to destroy their flagship vessel? That’s the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard! Not even Amuro Ray managed that! Enough lies! Why are you here? Who sent you?”

“I don’t know!”

A terrible answer, but it was the truth. But the truth didn’t satisfy Char. The man grabbed his collar, getting another punch ready.

Wait! The woman in yellow said something about a Captain! “There was a woman!”

“What woman?” The punch paused, but Char was definitely still thinking about winding another one up. Judau continued.

“I don’t know her name! She found me! She had dark hair in two, uhh, two bun things,” He gestured two large ovals off of the bottom of his head, not knowing how else to describe her hair. Leina always kept hers short, he didn’t know any fancy names for hairstyles except for braids, ponytails, and buns. “She was wearing a long yellow dress! Green eyes! Dark skin! She sent me here!”

The fingers around his pilot suit seemed to curl even harder, if that were even possible. Maybe the truth was a bad idea. Hearing about the mystery special girl seemingly did nothing to calm Char Aznable down. “Lalah? Lalah Sune? Lalah is dead! How could she have sent you here? What did she say?”

He didn’t know the answers to most of those questions, and no way more ignorance was going to quell Char’s fury. He just had the answer to the last one, so he hoped it worked. “She told me to say hi to you for her! That’s all! I didn’t even know her name!”

Char grit his teeth, and Judau braced for another punch, but before the hit could land he caught the same floral scent he couldn’t figure out before. Char’s grip on his suit relaxed, as did what he could see of the man’s intense frown behind his shades.

She’s here. But this time, while he could feel her presence and that some kind of mental conversation was taking place between her and Char, what she was saying to the Captain was a total mystery. Emotions flitted over the man’s face, but between the shades and Judau barely knowing the man it was hard to discern what exactly he was thinking. It didn’t last long, only two minutes at most, but slowly Char Aznable let go of him, eyebrows once again knit into a frown.

“... I don’t have the authority to decide what to do with you. But I’ll put in a good word. Until then, you’ll be detained in here. No more funny business. I mean it. Is Judau Ashta your real name?”

“Yeah, it is.” He’d be pretty stupid to lie about that on top of the rest of the flimsy stack. He wasn’t expecting an apology for getting hit in the face either. He’d just have to deal with the pain that was settling down to a throb.

Char nodded. “Then try to rest, Judau. Admiral Karn isn’t one to needlessly delay making a choice.” He lingered, staring at Judau for an uncomfortable moment, but finally turned away. “I’ll send someone to bring you some ice and a change of clothes.” And with that he left and closed the door. It locked behind him with a little chirp.

Great. Char did have a point, he was starting to burn up in his pilot suit and it wasn’t gonna get any better. With an annoyed sigh, he pulled off his gloves, tugged the zipper down, kicked off his boots, and finally stepped out of the whole ensemble. Normally he’d put it away in his locker, but there wasn’t even a closet in this tiny room. He should do something with it, though, not just leave it in the middle of the floor... He sighed again as he rolled it up and tucked it on the floor at the foot of the bed instead, right on top of his boots.

Next he examined the room. Not that there was a whole lot to look at; it was the barest room possible. There was a simple bed, a white lamp and bedside table, and a tiny desk on the far side of a room. There was a worn leather armchair in the left side corner. Apart from that, there was only one other room- A tiny bathroom, with only the barest space for a shower and sink squeezed in beside the toilet.

It wasn’t a great room, but it wasn’t a cell. He’d give it that. Now if only he could get up and walk around, explore Axis at least a little bit. But he couldn’t, and there was only so much pacing around he could do in his underclothes before he gave up and sat, then lay down on the bed. It was kind of hard, but again, it could have been a cell.

If they kept him in here too long, he was gonna try climbing through a vent.

But soon even the nebulous thoughts of getting out of here and by some miracle managing to get back to Mars or even one of the Sides dried up, and then he had to think about the reality of his situation. He’d been putting it off, but eventually he had to face it; this wasn’t 0089.

Newtypes really could control time, then? He sure didn’t feel in control. He had no idea in hell what had happened to him. He’d been fighting Haman in the chaos of two colonies colliding, their minds hit each other just as hard, and he found himself in that weird space with that weird woman in yellow and then suddently in the middle of a battle between Axis and the Federation. He didn’t know anything about Axis and the Feddies fighting before the last two years, but then it wasn’t like he paid a whole lot of attention to news about the war. He was too young when the One Year War broke out. Besides, life on Shangri-La was hard enough without worrying about everything going on on the outside, even filtered through Federation and Titans propaganda.

Who the hell knew. All he knew was he was here... Far, so far, from home. From the Nahel Argama, from his friends, from Leina-

Leina.

That thought finally made him shudder, a peppery feeling shooting up his nose as hot tears formed. His baby sister was still out there. Back in 0089 she was on the Earth, presumably safe. It had been an amazing surprise to hear her again after thinking she was dead for weeks. It drove him forward to bring the war to a definite end. All he’d wanted was to see her again. She’d sounded like she was well taken care of, but it wouldn’t beat having her back with him. After that he didn’t know what he was gonna do, but he knew he wanted her safe and taken care of, whatever that ended up looking like. He’d thought of bringing her to Moon Moon, or maybe checking out Mars or as a last resort, the Jupiter Sphere. As long as it was somewhere away from all the fighting and chaos of the Earth Sphere and most of the Sides. Somewhere he could work, she could go to school, and they could be left alone, away from the Federation and Zeon and their endless conflict.

But now? Leina was only a toddler. Their mom was still around, he could swear she’d stuck around until ’83. His father? Who knew, he couldn’t remember when his old man had got up and left to find work anywhere else but Shangri-La. The idea was always to get out, to move to another colony with better prospects for him and Leina, but that never ended up happening. It was too expensive. His mom had to go find work elsewhere and send money back, and it still wasn’t enough with rising taxes and utility bills. Leina was stuck, just like he was.

And not only did he have no money out on this space rock, he had no way of getting to her even if he did. Traveling from Axis when it was so far away would be a big deal. There was no stealing a plucky little transport ship and making it back to populated space in a matter of hours or days. A six month trip with no resupply points was nothing to sneeze at. It would have to be well-planned and well organized, and there was no way Axis wouldn’t notice six months’ worth of food and water disappearing. No, the only way he was getting off of here was if there was some kind of mission or trip scheduled and he got himself on it.

There was also the problem of him presumably still being alive and well and already taking care of his sister. Man, what a weird thing to think about. He was here on Axis and also on Shangri-La living as a reasonably happy eight-year old.

Wait. Would Leina even go with him if he could get to her? Even as a little kid, she knew better than to go with strangers. He was almost twice his current age right now. She’d know something was wrong. And if she did, no way his eight-year old self wouldn’t risk life and limb to stop him. And anyways, was it even ethical to leave himself behind on Shangri-La? What would that do for the timeline? What would taking him(self?) do?

Judau groaned. He was giving himself a full-head headache rather than just the jaw throbbing from getting punched, thinking about this stuff. It was too much. He needed a simpler goal, like just getting off Axis to begin with. Baby steps, Judau. First he needed step one.

So how did he get off Axis?

His thoughts drifted over to Haman again. For better and worse, it all came back to her. A Newtype moment with her got him into this mess, and she might be his best way out of it.

How had Haman gotten out of getting sliced and diced by those GMs back where he came from? She’d obviously made it out and lived to take over Axis and threaten the Federation. But how? Had Char saved her? Maybe, but he’d sure taken his sweet-ass time to get there from what Judau had seen. Maybe she took the Magellan-class out herself? Had her suit malfunctioned because he showed up and messed with something? Like so much else, he had no idea. It didn’t really matter, in the end. Now he was responsible for saving her life, and she had been pretty grateful for it. She didn’t have the authority to send people out now, but she’d get it eventually. When did she take over Axis? At least by the time of the Gryps Conflict. That was years away... But it could be earlier. He just didn’t know. All he knew was eventually Haman would run this place and war was coming. Years away, but still inching closer and closer. Today’s conflict proved that.

If he cozied up to her, could he get her to let him leave? Maybe.

Or maybe...

Their connection was so earnest this time. It felt nothing like the overwhelming presence he was used to with Haman, except maybe in how easily they formed connections to one another. He’d gotten sucked in the second they touched and this time she had nothing to hide. Haman had always hidden her true self from him as much as possible, keeping at arm’s length when trying to influence him. There were raw moments of honesty from her, but sometimes he got the impression she was so twisted she didn’t even know the truth from delusions anymore. Except for the stream of her thoughts when they’d fought, he’d never gotten to see into her mind. This time he had, and gotten a pretty long look too. And she’d seen things back, but that didn’t bother him all that much. He wasn’t ashamed of his past, or the struggles he’d been through. They made him who he was today.

Maybe things weren’t so hopeless. Maybe war wasn’t inevitable. If Haman was in charge, that meant Haman had final say over whether Axis went to war at all. Not yet, but one day. He couldn’t do anything about the AEUG and the Titans, not from here. But maybe... Maybe...

Judau groaned and rolled over. He was getting ahead of himself again. No matter what he did, he needed friends here, and Haman was going to be his best shot at making that happen. She was one of the few people on his side right now. Char clearly didn’t like him no matter what his dead lady friend said and that guy was one of Zeon’s biggest celebrities. Then there were all the people he was sure were around here who’d hate him just for coming from a Feddie colony. He had an uphill battle to climb.

So his first step? Befriending Haman.

Chapter Text

It was two days later before he was able to meet with the leader of this place. Maharajah Karn was apparently a very busy man. It made sense, being in charge of all of Axis, Judau couldn’t say he didn’t hate waiting around. There was nothing to do in this cell but pace around and get stuck with his thoughts. He got brought his ice pack and a few basic changes of clothes. They were nothing special, but at least they weren’t covered with Zeonic emblems. They looked like anything anyone might wear on Earth or in space, though the jeans were a bit baggier than the skinnier styles he was used to seeing commonly worn on Shangri-La.

He guessed it made sense when, having nothing else to do after sleeping a bunch and doing push ups, he considered the difference in styles. It wasn’t just eight years earlier than he was used to, but Axis was at the far end of human civilization. Magazines, movies, shows, music, it must all take ages for anything new from the Earth Sphere to get here. Even clothes. Hell, even the fabric to make clothes with. Did they make fabric here, or get it shipped in? Maybe a little of both. No way all Axis’ food was coming from the Sides, there had to be farms somewhere on the asteroid and where there were farms, there could be textiles.

He missed his red jacket. He hadn’t been wearing it when he was piloting, so it wasn’t with him when he got here. It was a piece of home he took with him everywhere he went before now, and now it was lost to time. Man, and it was the first thing he’d really bought for himself, scrimped and saved and waited for the merchant to be willing to haggle down for. It had been there for ages, there was no reason for the guy to be so stingy about giving him a deal. He wouldn’t lie, it had been tempting to just steal the damn thing, but Leina would have given him a world of grief for it. So he was good, and one day the man finally caved and sold it to him. It was a little big in the shoulders then, a little long on the arms, but he’d grown into it, and after two years it fit him just as good as a tailored suit. At least, what he guessed one fit like. He’d never been rich enough to own one of those (or to need one).

So it was a surprise when finally, on day three, Char Aznable returned along with two guards, looking not too pleased with having to come back here. The guy might think he had a carefully neutral expression, but his displeasure was written all over the guy.

“Put this on. Once you have, come with me.”

Judau took the clothes, but checked them over first. He could tell from the material alone it was something fancier than usual. Looked like a deep red dress shirt and black pants. No pattern on either one. Where did these come from? Were they Char’s? He hoped not. It wasn’t borrowing clothes that was weird, basically everything he had was borrowed right now, it was borrowing dress clothes from the Red Comet that just felt wrong somehow. Maybe it was the distrust that still came off the guy in waves.

He took what he was given and headed for the bathroom to change, but turned and looked back at Char before going in. “Where are we going?”

“To decide your future. Hurry up.”

Was that kind of ominous statement really necessary? Drama queen. Judau couldn’t really say he was surprised, though. Let’s get it over with. As long as he wasn’t sentenced to death or thrown in a cell, he couldn’t see things getting worse than being stuck in a small room waiting around for people to figure out what to do with him. It was bad enough he’d waited this long.

The buttons were annoying and the sleeves were a bit long, but rolling them up did the trick. Whoever these were from, he didn’t think it was Char. It made him a little better putting it all on. Shame he was doing it to get put under a microscope, but he could deal with that. It wouldn’t be the first time, probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Where are we going exactly, old man?”

Char had the decency to turn back towards him in obvious shock, even with those big shades hiding his eyes. “Old man?”

“You heard me.”

“Hm.” Char turned back around and kept walking, and Judau followed. But eventually Char found something to say. “It must be the stress of dealing with prisoners aging me prematurely.”

“Ha! Keep telling yourself that.” He couldn’t help but laugh, it was an annoyingly good comeback. Guess the Red Comet got by on more than just piloting skills. Made sense if he could throw around weight in a place like Axis.

He didn’t know a whole lot about life on Axis. It wasn’t exactly something they went over in school even if he had been going regularly, but he got bits and pieces here and there. That it was a mysterious space rock out in the depths of the asteroid belt where all the bigwigs of Zeon went into hiding after the war. That Zeeks might not be trustworthy, but they always paid in gold. And of course weird rumours about blood rituals and space cults, the same kind of nonsense people were always spouting about the people in the Jupiter Sphere too. Judau was skeptical about those tales, but what he had seen when he’d briefly snooped in and around Axis did tell him the people here were overall rich and definitely quick to make backroom deals. Deals the Feddie top brass were all too eager to take. Char Aznable was a legend, sure, but it seemed like he’d survived more than just fights if he got through years of being at Axis and joined the Gryps Conflict.

The captain speaking again distracted Judau from his musing. “To answer your question, you are going to meet with Admiral Maharajah Karn. He has the final say regarding your place or lack thereof on Axis. And I’m sure he’s going to have questions about that connection of yours with his daughter.”

Their connection, huh? “Did she call it that?”

“Hm.” Char gave a noncommittal hum rather than a proper answer. She so had. Score one for him! But the captain had something else to say. “You should be more mindful of what you say. Not everyone here is as forgiving as I am.”

Yeah, he could believe it. Char wasn’t nearly as pissed off as he’d been the first night he’d arrived here. Something had set him off then, and not just him showing up. Judau guessed it was either to do with Haman zoning out or them having that Newtype moment. It looked like whatever had caused it, he’d gotten over it after a talk with that strange lady or he was keeping it really tight under wraps. Whatever, as long as he didn’t get punched again. On that note, actually... “Does ‘everyone here’ include Haman’s dad?”

“Admiral Karn is a reasonable man in my experience. But I’ve never seen him in the presence of a mouthy prisoner.”

Fine, okay. Judau took the hint for the time being and shut up for a bit. There wasn’t much more to talk about anyways. They went through hallway after hallway and turn of the building. They didn’t go past the mobile suit hangar this time, instead going up an elevator and crossing over to another one and going up several more floors.

The soldiers they passed in the halls were all decked out in the typical Zeon green and gold, but Judau noticed how young so many of them were. Everyone they passed was in their mid-twenties at most, no one looked older than that. It could be that everyone on Axis was really healthy and happened to look a lot younger than their age, but Judau doubted it. Was it because of the war? Shangri-La had been hit by the One Year War, everyone had, but plenty of people still came back and picked their lives back up. Was Zeon really hit that hard? Guess so... This was the price of losing, huh. And he was sure plenty of survivors and refugees hadn’t made it here and had to stick to Side 3 or other Zeon hidey-holes.

Most went by without a word, or with a salute for Captain Char Aznable, but he noticed a few hung back. A lot of the younger staff even by Axis’ standards. He heard ‘Newtype’ a few times, carrying more awe than the word ever had back in 0088.

It was mostly ladies who said it, which was pretty flattering, but not only did he have to keep up with Char, he couldn’t start rumours about him being too friendly with women. He didn’t know for sure that Haman would be jealous, but his gut told him finding out wouldn’t be worth it.

Finally they came to one last elevator. This one opened up on the city he was somewhat familiar with, though it was nowhere near as sleek or modern as he remembered. Or as large. There was no artificial sky yet, just a jagged ceiling of brown stone. There were several buildings, sure, but there were still dozens, no, maybe hundreds of mobile workers digging through the asteroid’s rock in the distance, tunneling further and further in to make space. While the close buildings were white and pristine, with several people on the roads below them, many of the buildings further out looked slapdash, like they’d been thrown up with the bare minimum of steel and plaster and would need extra work done on them later. Nowhere as bad as the slums of Shangri-La, but not all that nice either. Again, not like the bustling high-tech residential district he’d searched for any sign of Leina in. Not where he’d met Elpeo Ple.

If he’d needed any more proof he wasn’t in the right time, this was it.

Char had to have noticed him staring, because he filled the silence. “Axis can barely keep up with the flood of refugees seeking asylum here. It was never intended as a place to house large numbers of civilians. There is infrastructure that must be built and expanded upon along with building new lodging.”

“How many people are trying to come here?”

“Thousands. Tens of thousands, perhaps, in the coming months. At least we have the good fortune of them coming from all walks of life. If we were to rely on smuggled food from Side 3 alone, the Federation would eventually notice. Everyone here would soon starve. Developing farmland and crops are currently Axis’ top priority, along with improving the colony’s current infrastructure and constructing additional housing.”

He knew from experience how big of a project that had to be. If the mayor of Shangri-La was in charge, the whole thing would have descended into a worse chaos than the slums. And they hadn’t had a massive influx of refugees either, not compared to some of the other Sides. “You’re letting everyone in?”

“Admiral Karn is an ambitious man. Time will tell whether that ambition can manifest change in reality.”

The reply was carefully worded in the way that adults used when they were trying to hide their views on an issue. Which told him a lot, actually; Char didn’t approve of it, but couldn’t tell the Admiral no. Or he had, but the admiral had chosen to disregard his opinion.

Didn’t he care about the people who were stranded? Or was he one of those people who thought it wasn’t worth it to save as many people as possible and the money could be used elsewhere? He wasn’t sure, but either way Judau frowned. Thousands of displaced people was a tall order, sure, but it seemed like this Admiral Karn was willing to take it on. If anyone could, it was Zeon, right? They always paid in gold, or so the rumour went. Money wasn’t the issue, seemed like. Was it just about the manpower? Well more and more people were coming every day. With some luck, quite a few of them would be able to suit up and get to work. It looked like they were making progress. It was an impressive effort. No; an admirable one.

So why’d the apple fall so far from the tree, Haman?

Or did it, really? Maybe it didn’t. She was facing odds that should be impossible, an asteroid versus the entire Federation, and was doing a pretty good job despite the AEUG’s efforts until Glemmy stuck his nose in her war. Maybe that strength of will came from her father... And was twisted towards her dark purpose. Awful, but kind of impressive when he really thought about what exactly she was doing and the state of Axis. Haman got it whipped into shape and ready to wage war against both the Titans and the AEUG, plus got the civilians she was responsible for in mostly a good place (he hadn’t forgotten Cicero) in a pretty quick time span. The moron in charge of Shangri-La couldn’t get a single road in his part of town repaired in ten years and people (the rich and the gullible, more like) still kept voting him in.

Man, he couldn’t believe he was kind of complimenting the dictator he’d left back in 0089. Forward in 0089? Whatever. Time travel was stupid.

She’d still rammed a colony into Dublin. Into the Earth.

If Char could sense his thoughts, he sure didn’t say anything about them. The rest of the elevator ride passed by in silence. At least, until the elevator finally stopped and softly dinged.

“We’re here.”

Duh. But rather than comment Judau stepped out into the room.

He needed no introduction to the man sitting at his desk, reading over a stack of papers with a pen in hand. His hair was greyer, he had a few more lines on his face, but this was the same man he’d seen in Haman’s memory, down to the large moustache covering his upper lip and the slicked-back hair. Admiral Karn must have heard him come in, because he immediately looked up from his paperwork, making eye contact with him.

The man wasn’t a Newtype. Or if he was, it was so weak Judau couldn’t sense it or his thoughts. Regardless, he gave Judau a long assessing look before looking over to Char Aznable.

“Is this the pilot? Thank you for bringing him, Captain. I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. Unless you think this young man has been sent here to assassinate me..?”

“No, Admiral. I don’t believe that for a myriad of reasons.”

“Well.” The admiral turned his attention back to him. He could swear the man had just a little twitch of a smile under his moustache before he smoothed it away. “Are you here to kill me, Judau Ashta?”

Seriously? “Of course not!” He didn’t even know about this man until a few days ago. And even if he had, he’d done nothing to warrant an assassination. Even if he was in the assassin business, which he wasn’t. And what kind of question was that anyways? He’d have to be a pretty stupid assassin to just admit it in front of his target! Judau crossed his arms, he couldn’t help it.

“Hm.” There it was again, that little twitch of the mouth. It reached his eyes this time too. “I believe him, Captain. And as such, I wish to speak to him alone.”

Char didn’t look convinced at all, but didn’t fight it. “Sir.” He turned back towards the elevator, but not without one last backward glance. Good riddance. The bruise on his face still stung like a bitch even if the swelling had gone down pretty quick.

“I apologize on behalf of the Captain.” The Admiral stood straight, his previous smile returned to a more neutral expression. Just like he did facing that grey-skinned old man back in Haman’s memory. “It’s difficult in these times to know who can be trusted. I hope you can understand our trepidation.”

With Char gone, Judau uncrossed his arms. He wished he had his jacket. Normally he’d stick his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I get it.” He’d be suspicious too if one of Zeon’s pilots showed up in a state-of-the-line prototype mobile suit. Hell, it had taken a while for his team to warm up to Ple and how she joined the Argama was way less weird than what he’d been through to get here. He might not like it, it might make his life a pain in the ass, but he got it.

Ple was here too, somewhere. Her and Ple Two would be around the same age as Leina...

“Do you drink coffee?” The man had walked to a familiar machine built into the wall. It looked like a typical coffee machine, albeit a fancier one than Judau was used to seeing on a regular basis.

“Oh, uh- Yeah, when I’m on the job. I’ll have some, sure.”

“‘On the job’?”

Oops, he’d almost said too much. But he could pivot it quickly. “Yeah. I’m a junker. Or was, anyway, back home.” Before he’d gotten dragged into piloting the Zeta, then the Double Zeta. Funny how much stemmed from meeting one nasty Titans piece of work and his impulsive decision to snag the Zeta.

The Admiral looked away from the coffee machine and frowned. “At such a young age?”

Judau shrugged. Always the same question, always the same answer. “Someone had to step up and pay the bills.”

“I see. Shangri-La remains in a deplorable state, then. It’s appalling how the Federation has mismanaged its very first colony.”

Judau couldn’t say he disagreed. He took the coffee with a quick thanks. “You’ve been to Shangri-La?”

The admiral had also made himself a cup of coffee. “Yes, a long time ago. Long before the war. It does not sound as though things have improved since my visit.”

“Doubt it. Things are only ever getting worse there.” He didn’t remember his parents complaining so much before the war, and while they were never doing great they weren’t just barely staying afloat back then. He didn’t really remember, he was just a kid back then, but he could pretend he’d been older at the time.

“Hm.” The man took a drink, then reached up and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “... Is there still a little diner in sector 2 in-between Vadreem and Harris Street? It had a name beginning with an S... Sirius or Scorpius, perhaps, a stellar name...”

“Uh...” Judau thought about it. S name related to the stars between Vadreem and Harris, huh... “There’s Cepheus?” Technically started with a C, but it had an S sound and the right theme. “But that’s on Seventh and Harris, not Vadreem. Make a mean burger and shake though!”

“Cepheus, that’s it. Thank you, young man. Yes, that was it. My mistake. It was Seventh, wasn’t it. My wife and I visited it on our honeymoon. I’m glad to hear it has survived the years.”

“You took your wife down there?” Judau was surprised. That was a pretty rough area for non-locals. Mostly industrial. He would have figured a Zeon admiral on his honeymoon would have stuck to the wealthier areas in the mountainous regions or flat-out not made the trip to Shangri-La at all. But the man nodded.

“We visited several colonies. Shangri-La was one of them. What proud Spacenoid isn’t curious about the first colony? But going into that district was her idea. Rachel was a bold woman. She always sought to understand others’ perspectives. Shangri-La was... Sobering.”

But as though he was aware he might be getting into offensive territory (calling his colony sobering and all), the admiral gestured towards the chair across from his desk. “Where are my manners. Please, take a seat. We have more important matters to discuss than my reminiscing.”

Right. They were here to discuss whether or not he was going to get treated as a war prisoner. He sat down and Maharajah Karn walked around his desk and did the same. So far he was optimistic about being let go, but who knew. The Feddie higher-ups were fond of saying one thing then doing another behind closed doors.

“So, Judau Ashta. What do you intend to do now that you’re at Axis?”

Huh? Sure, Judau expected that question to come up eventually, but he wasn’t ready for it to be the very first one he was asked. He’d half-expected an interrogation or at least being questioned about how he got here and his suit. Maybe Char had already filled him in. Actually, that was pretty likely. “I mean, it’s not like I have anywhere to go. I’ll have to find some work, I guess, either in the mobile suit bay or go back to junking. That’s what I’m good at.”

“You don’t intend to go to school?”

He shrugged. He wanted to lean back and cross his arms behind his head, but figured that would be too rude in front of the admiral, even if he seemed like a reasonable guy so far. “Nah. Was never much of a student.” The man frowned, and Judau elaborated. “Not because I didn’t like it or anything! Classes were pay by lesson basis back home. It was too expensive for me to go most days, so I’m already behind. Spent more time in the junkyard or in space.” Would Zeon’s schooling even be anything like Feddie schooling? There had to be some overlap, right?

“Hm.” The admiral’s frown remained, but it seemed more thoughtful than angry. “Do the Federation see how unsustainable that is, I wonder? You don’t seem unintelligent, but you’ve been discouraged from being educated from the very start of your life. And I doubt your position is unique in Shangri-La, or even in the colonies as a whole.”

Well geez, he didn’t have to put it like that. But again, Judau could see the point the man was making and didn’t exactly disagree with it. In his mind Leina had way more potential than he ever did, but one sure had to jump through hoops to get anywhere in life in Shangri-La unless you were already loaded. “Look, I got by okay. Not great, but I’m good with my hands. I don’t mind sticking to mechanical work. Hell, you want me carving that rock out there give me a petit and I’m set.”

Finally the man’s expression softened some. He even smiled a little. “No, that will not be necessary. You’re a mobile suit pilot. While I would rather settle problems with minimal bloodshed, I cannot deny that what happened this week was not a near disaster for Axis. Our pilots are inexperienced and we have few veterans to teach them. We need to be able to defend ourselves when the need arises.”

“You want me to teach them? I don’t have a lot of experience myself.” Outside of piloting the Zeta and Double Zeta, that is, but he didn’t even know if the engineers here would be able to reliably power his Gundam. Plus, it was a Gundam. “I mean, I can try, but that can’t take all the time.”

“Perhaps not. When you’re not training our cadets you can train in mobile suit mechanics. We can always use competent mechanics. Or receive schooling, if you did wish to return to it. Or something else. While you work for the military your lodging will be paid for and you’ll receive three meals a day. There are worse circumstances you could find yourself in.”

Yeah, like getting put against a wall and shot. But Judau frowned a little. “I’m not a huge fan of Zeon. Or the Federation either. I’m not big on the military as a whole.”

“Delightfully neutral, then.” The admiral chuckled. “In all seriousness, we can consider you a military contractor. Of course, should you change your mind, an official position could open itself to you if your performance meets our standards.”

Man. That was essentially the situation he’d already been in. Far from home, pulled into a military conflict he wanted nothing to do with... The big difference here was he was on the other side and the war hadn’t started yet. Was he really going to have to train Neo Zeon pilots? Would it make a difference if he did? Maybe not if the war never started, but...

“... I want a day to think about it.” Waiting wasn’t going to change anything, he’d still be stuck here with the decision in front of him, but he felt a pit in his stomach at the thought of saying yes to anything involving Zeon right away.

“Of course. By all means. I’ll await your decision. Oh, and one final thing...”

The admiral stood up again, offering Judau his hand. Judau stood and took it, only for the man’s second hand to be placed on his.

“Thank you for saving my daughter. Thank you.”

There was a piece of paper in his hand. Once the admiral let go of him Judau looked at it. Huh? Looked like a phone number... As he opened the paper up a familiar scent greeted him just as the admiral spoke.

“The number connects to Haman’s room. She wished for me to relay it to you.”

Oh. Damn. Okay. “Thanks.” Sucks he didn’t get it from Haman herself, but maybe she wasn’t allowed to see him while his status was still in limbo. From what he’d heard, she’d gone out without permission. She might be in shit too. Better not lose this. He put it in his pocket. As if on cue, a soldier in uniform entered from the elevator. The admiral had to have a button at his desk that called goons up to the office for that kind of perfect timing.

“Please return Mr. Ashta to his room.”

And like that, it was done. And now he had a decision to stew on as he was led back to said room.

“He wasn’t lying. He’s either from Shangri-La or intimately familiar with the colony.”

“And you think that means you can trust him?”

“I’m surprised by your reluctance, Captain Char. You were the one who recommended recruiting him.”

Char Aznable lay back in his seat, taking a moment to reply to his comment. “I have my reasons. His skills as a pilot and his suit are too useful to ignore. And word has already gotten out that he’s a Newtype. We can blame Haman for that.”

“She has her own opinion of the boy and sought to secure his future. She’s learned a great deal since we moved to Axis.”

“That’s giving her quite a bit of credit.”

“Her actions were no accident, Captain. I might have done the same in her position.”

Char gave a noncommittal sound, but kept the full extent of his thoughts to himself. Maharajah Karn chuckled, amused. He respected Char’s recommendation to accept the young man into Axis despite their seeming distaste for one another. He doubted he would have executed him regardless; Judau Ashta did not strike him as a Federation spy and even if he was, he was a Newtype. A Newtype pilot, no less. But he appreciated them being aligned on this issue.

“I imagine he will accept.”

“What else can he do? We’ve given him a giant carrot and the alternative is a mean stick.”

“Hm. A truly principled man might not. We have seen firsthand how loyal the Federation survivors remain to their side.”

“That reminds me. We need a decision on what should be done with them. Housing and feeding nearly a thousand prisoners is no easy task.”

“Hard labour will suffice. There is plenty of work that needs to be done to make Axis a proper colony. A thousand more hands will make quicker work of things.”

Char nodded. He expected no less. Even not at war, captured uniformed soldiers could be made to do labour under the Antarctic Treaty. Maharajah Karn was ever a fair man. “We’ll need somewhere to keep them. There’s security risks in keeping them all together in the holding cells.”

“A prison should not be our top priority. The refugees need to be provided for before we consider that matter.”

“I understand your position, but...”

“Don’t concern yourself with the prisoners, Captain. I want you to train our new pilots as well.”

“We should at least disable their ships for the time being.”

“Are you concerned they’ll attempt to mount an escape? They lack the provisions. They lacked even the fuel to return to Side 6.”

“Call it a feeling I have.”

“Very well. It can’t hurt to be cautious.”

Chapter Text

Thinking about it didn’t make it any better. Safe to say, it probably made things worse.

Gryps happened before the Neo Zeon war. It was going to be years before any of this mattered. Whether or not he helped train some of Neo Zeon’s pilots, they’d put themselves into a spot where they’d be going up against the Titans and the AEUG. Both sides were going to fight it out and Axis would sweep in.

Maybe he should have paid better attention to what was going on right before he got pulled into the war. But it had never seemed like his problem. He’d had other things to worry about, like putting food on the table and making sure Leina could go to school every day. If the fight came to Shangri-La, well, what was anyone supposed to do if the colony got gassed? They were helpless. All there was to do at that point was pray to a god that probably didn’t exist and hope the AEUG got there in time. It didn’t show up in the news but there were whispers that Side 2 was losing colonies left and right and a bomb blew up half of Granada. They’d been exaggerating about Granada (though it wasn’t exactly in top shape when he was there) but that didn’t mean the rumours didn’t have some bit of truth to them. The Titans were awful enough to have used gas. Everyone knew what happened to Colony 30. That one wasn’t bull.

It wouldn’t matter if he trained a few pilots, right? Not like it would make a difference. Axis came out on top anyways before the AEUG went to Shangri-La. It wouldn’t matter.

Kamille had had to fight them. But Kamille was tough. From the sounds of it it sounded like Kamille could take on half the Titans fleet at once and make it out without a scratch. What difference would Axis’ pilots knowing a few more tricks make? That was probably Torres exaggerating too, but hey. Maybe it was true. He’d never gotten to see Kamille fight with the Zeta. Some Titans guy had left him nearly comatose by the time he’d met him.

It wouldn’t matter. But it didn’t make Judau feel much better about it. Least Beecha and Mondo had never managed to give Zeon any real advantage by defecting. He was basically handing them his Double Zeta on a silver platter.

But if he didn’t, they'd kill him and Axis would have it anyways. Not like he had much of a choice.

Well, if nothing else, Haman liked him.

Judau twisted the paper through his fingers, flipping it around while he lay down mulling it over. Just like the illusion of choice about whether to take up a job here, there was no real doubt as to what he was gonna do. Of course he was going to call her. Who’d turn down a call from Haman freakin’ Karn? Especially in this kind of situation. He was up shit’s creek without a paddle without her going up to the plate for him back on day 1 here. She was his lifeline right now.

He just, you know. Didn’t want to be too eager about it. He wanted to pretend he’d at least considered not doing it.

God, I’m so full of shit.

Judau had wanted to at least go six hours. In the end, he made it five and a half before he got up and banged on the door. A guard in the typical Zeon green opened it- No surprise there. “Hey! I’m in! Tell whoever you need to tell I’m in, okay? Your boss or his boss or whoever! I’m joining up.”

The guy jumped, clearly taken off guard by his tone.

Oops. “Uh, please. Please let whoever you need to know that I’m joining up.” He was being kinda rude, wasn’t he. It wasn’t this guy’s fault he was mad at himself. Still. Who was this nerd? The guy was a beanpole whose wrists were almost sticking out of his uniform. He was tall, really tall, but still looked young, with freckles still dotting his pale skin. He had a mop of just barely-reddish blond hair just starting to reach past his ears and oval wire-framed glasses. He must have just gotten enlisted, or been conscripted into Zeon’s army. No way a guy like this would have enlisted willingly, right?

Was this really the best Axis had to offer in terms of people watching his cell? He could have sucker punched this sucker and been free by now, or gone through a vent days ago. And gotten nowhere because he’d still be stuck on Axis with no escape route, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

“I’ll uh. Yeah. I’ll do that.”

Judau smiled, leaning against the door frame. “Thanks, boss.” See? He could be nice. No need to be jumpy.

“You’re welcome, but it’s not boss. Ensign Kieran Kielen. And uh, I’ll go now. I’ll be seeing you!”

That was a name alright. Try saying that three times fast. But he bet the guy had heard that one a thousand times before and he seemed nice enough, even if he was twitchy. He waved as the guy rushed away to find whoever he was supposed to report back to. “No rush! I’ll be waiting...” Not like he could go anywhere.

But maybe now he’d at least get a phone.

He got more than a phone. He had a whole new room.

It wasn’t a whole lot bigger than the one he’d been moved out from, but it was definitely nicer quality. The bed was more spacious. The mattress didn’t sink in the middle, it was the right kind of firm. It must be pretty new. All the furniture was a lot newer, without the typical scuff marks and wear from being lived with. And the best part? He didn’t have to squeeze into the bathroom. It had a closet too, even if he didn’t really have much to put in it that was his besides his pilot suit. His borrowed clothes made a sad little pile beside his suit.

But hey. He’d done plenty of starting from almost nothing. He’d claw his way back up. He didn’t need much for himself, just food and a place to stay. He’d always made ends meet before now, he’d keep doing it. And this time he had a steady job given to him. He wouldn’t have to go out and scrounge for parts and scrapped suits. All he had to do was show some pilots the ropes and patch up some mobile suits here and there. Easy. Almost suspiciously easy, if it wasn’t for him knowing already that he’d be working for Axis and they were gonna want to take a look at his Double Zeta.

... They were probably already looking at the Double Zeta. Well, it was what it was. The sooner he got to work the sooner he’d be able to do his best to keep other peoples’ paws off of his mobile suit. They’d better not have it taken apart when he got down to the mobile suit hangar.

At least the AEUG didn’t exist yet. What would they get out of looking at the Double Zeta? They’d know there was a new Gundam on the block and they’d find out pretty quick Anaheim Electronics made it. None of that info should be surprising, he didn’t think. Anaheim and the Federation had been best buddies for ages, long before he could remember. Maybe even since before he was born. But the AEUG shouldn’t mean anything to anyone here. They’d probably assume it was just part of the Federation. And would they really be wrong? Maybe at first. But not when he’d left them, that’s for sure.

Lying down on the new reddish-brown couch that he guessed was his now, Judau sighed. Was he forgetting something? He felt like he was forgetting something. But he turned it over in his head a few times and couldn’t think of anything dangerous Axis could get their hands on in the Double Zeta. They could take it apart and figure out how it worked but that was the most dangerous thing he could think they could do to it. They weren’t going to destroy it, no way. Even the dumbest of Axis’ soldiers weren’t that dumb.

Nothing was coming to mind. All he could do was wait and see.

Oh, and call Haman! He finally had a phone and he almost forgot to use it. Wouldn’t that be just swell.

Man. What did he even want to say to her? Hey, just thought I’d call and say don’t become a dictator that throws colonies around? Yeah right. She gave him her number, there had to be something or multiple somethings she wanted to say. But what did he want to say back?

Thanks for having my back. Yeah, maybe that. He might not go to school all that much but it didn’t take a PHD to know her words had contributed to his being taken in here. If Haman hadn’t gone and told everyone in the vicinity he was a Newtype he didn’t know how different things could have turned out for him. He could have spent the last few nights with his hands and legs cuffed together. Wouldn’t be the first time with Axis. Or worse, they could have done the easy thing and offed him. Shot him in the head, thrown him out an airlock, whatever.

He’d at least say thanks. Alright. No big deal, just pick up the phone. Okay. Before he could psych himself out of it, he typed out the number and waited as the phone rang.

One ring. Two. Three-

There was a clatter on the other end of the line, and after a few tense seconds finally a breathless “Hello?”

“Moshi mosh- I mean, hey! This is Haman, yeah?”

She laughed. “Moshi moshi? What’s that? Is it something you say on Shangri-La? I assume this is Judau Ashta?”

“Yeah, it’s me. And uh, moshi moshi is... Guess it’s a Shangri-La thing.” And guess who was learning that just now? “Don’t worry about it.”

She chuckled again. Wow. This must be the most he’d ever heard Haman laugh. “Well then, moshi moshi, Judau Ashta.”

“You don’t have to do the whole ‘Judau Ashta’ thing, y’know.” No need to be so formal. They were both just teenagers, Haman wasn’t the supreme ruler of Axis yet. Even if she was, he wouldn’t have cared, but at least it made a little more sense when she was holding herself up on a pedestal above the rest of humanity. He didn’t get that vibe from this Haman. Not yet. “Just Judau’s fine, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Are you certain? Just ‘Judau’?”

“Just Judau.”

“Alright. Judau. My father must have delivered my note to you... How are you settling in? You’ve been treated well, I hope?”

“Uh, Yeah. It’s... I’m getting there. The room’s nice. They told me I’ll be starting on the mobile suit deck tomorrow.”

“I see. You’ll be teaching our cadets how to pilot?”

“Sounds like that’s the idea. Not exactly sure yet. I’m starting tomorrow. I know my way around fixing a few mobile suits too. Might as well put what I know to use.”

“Yes. Do you think that... Ah, no, nevermind.”

“What is it?”

“It’s not important, it’s just... Do you think I would be able to join some of your sorties? I’ve logged plenty of hours in the simulators, but it’s obvious to me now that real combat is nothing like a computer program. I wish to get more experience in Axis’ suits.”

“Oh. Sure? I don’t mind, but it’s not really my call. Think you’ll have to ask your dad or Captain Char. Or just show up and I’ll get ya in a suit.” Maybe not the safest way when her dad was calling the shots, but hey, it’s not like he was ever good at respecting authority. Dads were usually soft on their daughters anyways, or so he heard. It had been too long since he’d seen his dad to remember if that was true with Leina.

But Haman chuckled again on the other side of the line. “Thank you, Judau. I’ll keep that in mind.”

But then there wasn’t a lot more to say. Or at least, not a natural conversation point from there. The silence stretched a bit, and Judau paced around as much as the corded phone would let him. Alright, come on, out with it. “I mean I guess, Haman, I wanted to say-”

“Would you join-”

Crap. Judau shut up, but Haman had the same idea. Jeez. With a nervous brush of his fingers through his hair, Judau leaned against the wall. “You first.”

“I- Yes. I wanted to ask whether you would join my sister and I for a trip to Mousa this weekend. I’ve heard a new shipment of clothes from the Sides are scheduled to come in to some of the new malls on Friday. Serrana wants to go before everyone picks them over.”

“Mousa?” That growth of a rock tacked onto Axis’ side? “Uh, sure. But I don’t have any money yet...”

“Oh, don’t concern yourself with that! You can pay me back once you do. You didn’t have much with you in your Gundam and this is the best chance you’ll get to find something you like. It’s no trouble.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. In fact, if you want to pay me back, make sure my suit’s ready for some of your training sessions.”

Jeez. She was really rearing to go. “Heh. I gotcha. One ready Dom coming right up.”

“That ‘Dom’ is called the Schnee Weiss. But I will concede it’s mostly a Dom at heart.”

“Schnee Weiss...” Weird name, but then a lot of mobile suits had weird names. Especially Zeon suits. “What makes it different from a Dom? Other than being painted white.” It had to be something under the hood, right?

“Oh, no, it has nothing to do with the colour. The Schnee Weiss typically has a psycommu system attached to it. But when you found me, I had ejected it for extra mobility. It’s large and reduces the suit’s mobility, but with it I can use bits.”

That checked out. Some kind of bit system bolted on a Dom. Oh, wait- That was actually impressive for 0081, wasn’t it. Or was it 0082 now? He’d need to find a newspaper. Whatever, the Qubeley definitely wasn’t around. The Psyco wasn’t even around yet. He whistled to try to save it. “Wow, bits. Why’d you eject the psycommu, then? Did you run outta bits? Did they get destroyed?”

“Mm.” She hesitated, huh? She must be embarrassed. Hey, suit malfunctions happened. He’d seen his share in the Double Zeta. Hell, even in the Zeta itself. But it was kinda cute, knowing Haman could get embarrassed like this even if once upon a time. Well, that time was now, and he couldn’t help but grin imagining her on the other end of the line. But she kept talking after a short pause. “I was unaccustomed to flying through the asteroid field. I kept most of my bits through the battle, but even from the start some of them did not synch up with the psycommu system, and several were destroyed. I had one to use against the Salamis you found me in front of, but there was...” She stopped for a moment. “It was strange, there was an explosion. A Musai was within the asteroid field, but it was not a ship we deployed. I can’t explain its presence... Regardless, it was attempting to ram the Federation ship but failed. Worse, it destroyed my final bit. So I was left without weapons. My thought was to run, but detaching the psycommu somehow interfered with the Schnee Weiss’ power supply. That’s why I couldn’t move when you found me.”

“Damn.” He couldn’t say he’d ever been in a situation that bad- Actually, maybe once. Twice, maybe, but one was a lot worse than the other. What came to mind was facing down the purple Psyco Gundam in the ruins of Dublin. He’d been out of power, out of missiles, and barely able to keep the Double Zeta up. It had looked like the end of the line... Until Ple threw her trashed Qubeley in front of the Double Zeta to save him. She’d given her life, and it was only after not even a scrap of her suit remained that he found the strength to somehow move his mobile suit again and try to take down her killer.

And it turned out they shared a face. Ple had been killed by another Ple.

... Both Ple and Ple Two would be around by now, assuming they were around Leina’s age or a little older. He was pretty sure they had to be a little older than Leina. Even in Axis there was no way they’d have four or five year olds piloting mobile suits, right..? Nah, couldn’t be. That was too crazy even for them. Those girls needed to be in school.

“... That’s, that’s something we’re gonna need to sort out. You can’t have your Schnee Weiss dying on you if you really want to fight. There’s enough problems out there without your suit being one.”

But he was getting distracted now, barely paying attention. Where were the Ples? With Glemmy somewhere, or more likely Glemmy’s family at this point in time. He knew nothing about the Totos except that they were obviously Zeon fat cats. Would Haman know them? Probably. Come to think of it, that blond boy in Haman’s flashback could have been a younger Glemmy, maybe. But how could he bring them up without it seeming weird?

And even if he learned about them, then what was he supposed to do? Kidnap two kids? They shouldn’t be anywhere near Glemmy (no one should be anywhere near that creep), but where exactly was he supposed to keep them? How could he keep them out of sight for however long he was going to be stuck here?

He couldn’t just snatch them and stash them away, just like he couldn’t cut and run from Axis. He needed to figure out another way to stop them from becoming pilots. Something that would get the Ples out of piloting while getting rid of Glemmy would be ideal...

Haman chuckled on the other end, completely oblivious to his thoughts. “Don’t worry, I’m well aware the Schnee Weiss needs tweaking before I sortie again. I intend to ask- Serrana, give me a minute. Yes, just- Serrana...” Haman groaned on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, Judau, Serrana says dinner’s been delivered. I have to go.”

“Delivered? Did you guys get pizzas?” Man, it had been forever since he’d had a pizza. And no way he could think of a delicious slice of Granada pizza without wanting one. Maaaaan.

“No, what- Oh, they must not have told you. Anyone assigned to the military wing has the option to receive meals three times a day to ensure our nutritional needs are met. It guarantees us fresh fruit at least once a day. Serrana, I’m almost done- We’ll discuss it later, I need to go. Your dinner is likely on the way.”

Well, shame it wasn’t a pizza. There must be pizza around Axis somewhere, right? There had to be a few dozen restaurant owners among the refugees to Axis and a few of those few dozen must make good pizza. But for today, something fresh didn’t sound bad. He’d probably had worse food on the Argama, that’s for sure. And having food beat out going hungry every time. He chuckled hearing who must have been Serrana complaining in the background, followed by Haman shushing her. “Alright, I won’t keep you. Catch you later, Haman.”

“Goodbye, Judau.” The phone clicked.

Phew. He let out a sigh and set his phone back on the receiver too, leaning against the cool wall and slowly sliding down. Why had he been so nervous? That wasn’t so bad. Wasn’t bad at all, even. It wasn’t her her. Not yet.

Haman...

She was so normal. Maybe a little formal, but Axis as a whole seemed that way and this was where Haman grew up. Here and Side 3, presumably. He didn’t actually know, but he’d felt through their connection that this was where Haman considered home.

In a few years this place was going to have two major cities and be vastly more self-sustaining. They’d have their own farms and food and finally set up an artificial sky around part of the colony.

Why had Axis felt the need to get involved in the war at all? Was it really just to make sure Mineva Zabi was recognized as a princess? Who the hell cared about something so goddamn trivial? There had to be more to it, right? More than just a mad bid for power. Yeah, the Federation was rotten, but there had to be more.

Right?

She was so normal.

Judau lightly thumped his fist against the wall. Not enough to hurt, just enough to clear his head. Enough to feel it course through his hand and wrist.

Why am I here? The woman in yellow wanted him here for a reason. But there was no answer. She might be able to talk to Char, but she sure wasn’t talking to him. It was looking more and more like he was gonna have to come to his own conclusions.

Great. Okay, Judau. Not like he had much better to do right now. Might as well mull it over a little more.

So far, he’d found a pretty good adult doing his best for a change and Haman. Oh, and Char, but he didn’t know what to make of that guy besides not liking him much. Guy might be one of the greatest pilots to ever live, but he gave off this... This vibe. The man was arrogant and full of himself, like so many adults. Psh.

But Maharajah Karn wasn’t going to be around forever. Haman was gonna be in charge by 0087 at the very latest. So what was he supposed to do? Make sure the guy didn’t keel over? Nah, couldn’t be. How was he supposed to guarantee that? He didn’t even know how the man died. It had to be something else.

... Was it Haman? It was her he’d resonated with. It was her he was still resonating with, really. He didn’t feel their bond as strongly, but if he closed his eyes and focused on it he could feel her presence nearby; just a faint little tug on his senses telling him she was around.

He might be able to sense more of her emotions if he tried, maybe even talk to her. Somehow he got the distinct feeling he could. Leina had sometimes been able to talk to him all the way from Earth. There was no reason he shouldn’t be able to talk to Haman when they already were already drawn to each other. But he kept it at just feeling for where she was. He didn’t want to freak her out.

A part of him wondered if she would freak out. It might be funny to try. But she was having dinner with her kid sister, huh. Besides, it would be shoving open a door he didn’t know how to shut, and even with this younger Haman and not the meticulous woman he’d left back in the future her knowing all his thoughts could get real dangerous real quick. Nah. Instead Judau got up and went back over to his bed, lying down with another annoyed sigh.

It always came back to Haman, didn’t it.

Well, not like he didn’t need to stick by her anyways if he wanted any chance of getting off this rock. And he did. He had no idea whether him being here was going to change anything, but if it did no way he could let Leina stay on Shangri-La. He’d need to get her somewhere safe. If not by Gryps, then at least by the start of the Neo Zeon war...

The war. Haman.

A thought was slowly forming, swirling in the depths of his mind, but Judau tried to put it to rest for now. He needed to figure out what he’d be doing here first and whether or not he was gonna make it here long enough for any serious planning. After that... After that he could figure his shit out.

But even as he closed his eyes, the thought nagged at him.

Does there need to be a war after Gryps?

Morning came earlier than he wanted it to. At least he wasn’t getting woken up with the Argama or Nahel Argama’s warning alarms demanding he get to his Gundam before they got shot down, but the alarm pulling him out of sleep did nothing to calm the gnawing pit at the bottom of his stomach.

It’s just a bit of flight practice. No big deal.

It wasn’t going to make a difference. It wasn’t going to matter. He was just one guy training a few more guys. How many pilots could he realistically train? A few hundred? It would take a lot more than that for Axis to turn the tide completely in their favour.

And still it wasn’t helping him feel any better about it. But if he died here, he’d never see Leina again. Time to suit up.

He figured someone would come get him, make sure he actually made it to the hangar bay and wasn’t making a run for it, but he got a knock way earlier than he expected. At least he wasn’t really suited up yet, just had his gloves on. Still, this was way early! Even Bright wouldn’t have had him geared up and flying for another hour. Not unless they got attacked, and even Axis didn’t often go for middle of the night fights. Was he even going to get breakfast..?

He hit the panel to open the door, and- Huh. Well, that answered his question. A familiar guy with glasses and mop of sandy blond hair was there, holding a meal box.

“Oh, hey. Kieran, right?”

“Yeah, I uh... They were going to send me to come get you anyways, so thought I’d bring you your food, save someone a trip down.” Kieran walked in, setting the box on the table across from the couch. “You uh, you want me to wait-”

“Nah. You can stay. Unless you have somewhere you’ve gotta be.”

“No, no, like I said, I was supposed to get you eventually, so... It’s probably fine for me to hang around.”

Judau sat down, ripping his gloves off and opening up the meal. It wasn’t anything special, there was mid-sized portion of scrambled egg and a carton of juice. But on the side there was at least a fresh-looking apple. It was nice to get some fruit. He bit into it, then asked Kieran a question. “‘S the food always brought to people’s rooms?”

“Oh, no, not always. Most of the troops either eat at home and get their meals comped or eat in one of the mess halls. For you, uh, it’s because you’re new here, and-”

“And no one really trusts me yet, is that it?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it like that. But yeah, that’s the jist of it. It wasn’t my call, by the way! It was someone way above me.”

Yeah, probably Char or some crony with a hate-on for Feddies. Well, whatever. Being distrusted was hardly new for him, and neither was eating food alone. They’d change their tune pretty quick once he got out there flying with whoever he was supposed to train. “Don’t worry about it man. Heh, at least I got you, right?”

“Ha!” Good. He got a laugh out of the guy. This Kieran guy really was a lot like Iino. If Iino weighted 125 soaking wet, grew eight inches, and wore glasses, anyway. “Right. I’ll be with you. The whole way, actually. I’m, uh, I’m one of the cadets you’ll be teaching. Asked about it right away. My CO was nice enough to let me join up.”

“Nice. What suit do you pilot?”

“Just a Zaku, but I’ve tried out the Dom simulations. I’ve logged, uh, 40 hours now? We need more pilots out here, everyone knows it. We thought we were safe in the asteroid belt, but all it takes is one Federation ship getting away and we’re done.” Kieran shook his head. “We need more. More suits and more pilots, even if all we end up doing is patrolling space.” He sighed, but then looked back at Judau. “A lot of us asked about you. You’re a Newtype, right? Rookies and experienced pilots were asking if they could join your training. No pressure, but there might be a crowd today.”

As flattering as that was, Judau couldn’t help but pinch his nose between his fingers, running his hand down his face. Seriously? Did this need to be such a big deal? “I hope they’re not expecting me to train fifty pilots all in one go.”

“I doubt it. We’d have to get fifty suits out of a single hangar pretty quick for that. Last time we couldn’t even- Well. I digress. It would be hard to do that.”

“Last time?”

Kieran sighed. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you. Just, just don’t tell anyone it was me who spilled it, okay? But the day you got here was complete chaos.” The guy leaned in, like he was paranoid someone else was in the room listening. Wait. Were there hidden cameras in here? He’d only just thought of that now. “No one was expecting a Federation fleet to find us. We were right in the middle of Princess Mineva’s coronation. Everyone was either at the ceremony or watching it on TV. No one was ready for an attack.”

Yeah, well. He’d seen that before. The panic, the desperation, the helplessness. He’d seen a lot worse, though he couldn’t blame the general population for being nervous. “So what happened in the hangar?”

“No one was ready to launch any suits. A bunch of the larger mobile armors got stuck waiting behind the Zakus and Doms. But Admiral Karn’s daughter rallied everyone.”

Of course she had. It wouldn’t be Haman if she wasn’t taking direct action. But he had to seem more than just a little surprised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. She stood right up on camera and demanded we get up and fight for Axis. She was tough as nails, man. She said she’d take on the whole damn fleet alone if she had to, then rushed out in that Dom of hers. She’s crazy. Tough, but crazy. I wouldn’t want to be a Feddie facing her down. They say she took down ten suits out there. And it was her first time!”

Ten suits. That wasn’t nothing. It wasn’t a whole ship, but it was something. It was loads better than how he’d done piloting the Zeta for the first time, but the Zeta was complicated. He’d never tried a Dom, but he’d never heard anyone say it was particularly hard to pilot one (even if it was a Schnee Weiss and not a Dom, close enough). Now using bits in an asteroid field? He’d never used funnels, much less lower-tech bits. As much as he hated to admit it, there’d probably be a learning curve there.

But he had the better suit. And he’d taken out an entire ship.

Kieran kept talking, though, and sadly he had to stop thinking about who’d kill more enemy units with each other’s suits between him and Haman or risk making it really obvious he was only half-paying attention. “... You, uh. You were out there, right? Did you really save Haman Karn from a Feddie ship? You really took it down all by yourself?”

Did Kieran think he was lying? Did he think Haman had been lying? Judau couldn’t help but frown as he looked up from the eggs he was trying to finish up. “Yeah, I sure did. A ship’s a sitting duck without mobile suits around to guard it. All you’ve gotta do is avoid its missiles and lasers and do enough damage of your own. Ships are slow and even a little tear in them can spell disaster. You don’t even know that?”

“Obviously I know that! That’s basic stuff. They tell you that before you even look at the simulators. But it’s... I dunno, it’s different seeing a Feddie ship up close. I was supposed to go out in the last wave of Zakus if there were enough casualties out there. Even seeing them on the monitor... Ah, whatever. Doubt a Newtype like you gets it. The rest of us get the crap scared out of us.”

“Hey.” He almost reached for the guy’s shoulder, but stopped himself. He didn’t know Kieran all that well yet, it was kinda weird to do that. God was this guy reminding him of Iino. He let his hand fall back down but kept talking. “It’s not about being an Old or Newtype.” If only being a Newtype was that kind of cheat code. “It was scary for me the first time too.” At least, when he wasn’t hopped up on the rage of seeing a man die through the Zeta’s monitor. He never learned the guy’s name, looking back on it, just that he was one of Torres’ friends. In the moment he just went with it; his hands moved on their own, like he’d been in the Zeta’s cockpit a thousand times. He knew now it probably had something to do with Kamille helping him out, but he didn’t think about it then. When he started thinking about what he was doing was when it all started falling apart. “I don’t want to say you get used to it, but honestly, you kind of do get used to it. It gets a lot easier, trust me.”

“... What were the Feddies making you do out there? Don’t tell me you were in the middle of A Baoa Qu? What are you, sixteen? Younger?”

Damn it! He couldn’t underestimate him, huh? Guy was smart like Iino too, and Judau wasn’t sure what to say. “Uhh, no, I wasn’t, I was, uh-”

“Oh, shit! Tell me later, we’ve got to go. C’mon!”

Saved by the clock. But as Judau shoveled the last of his eggs into his mouth and leaned over the table to grab his helmet, just barely tossing the apple in before Kieran grabbed his shoulder and shoved him toward the door with surprising strength for someone rail-thin, he realized he was going to have to come up a better story. Something that made sense taking place in the early 0080s. He was going to have to sit down and figure it out, write it down and memorize it if need be. It was too dangerous for him not to.

He hated lying like this. Yeah, not like he had much choice. No one sane was going to believe he got thrown years in the past by a space ghost in a yellow dress. And that was without mentioning Haman and how bad going to war with the Federation was eventually going to go for Axis. But he still hated it. He was never very good at keeping a serious story straight. Sure, a little white lie (or ten...) was easy. Coming up with a whole backstory that needed to stand up to scrutiny was a whole other ballgame. But winging it wasn’t an option. Not this time.

Tearing through the halls, weaving around uniformed soldiers (and definitely annoying one or two by almost smacking into them) to reach the hangar bay wasn’t going to be where he figured it out, though. His head was already pounding again just thinking about it and if there was one thing that was consistently awful back where he came from it was piloting with a headache.

At least he was getting fresh fruit. This apple wasn’t going to go to waste. He chewed on it along the way. As far as apples went, it was just okay, all sweet without any real sour depth, but at least it had a satisfying fresh snap to it that told him it hadn’t been frozen and brought here; Axis must grow some of its own apples. And the best part was he had an excuse not to continue his conversation with Kieran. The guy was bound by common etiquette; every time Kieran turned his head at all to speak, Judau made sure he had a bite of apple in his mouth to halt all possible conversation. He was down to the very end of the core by the time they went down the elevator to the hangar bay, but hey- It worked. There was even a convenient trash bin close by for him to throw the core into as they both stepped off the platform.

Damn, there really was a crowd.

Not a huge one, but a sizeable one for being on a mobile suit deck. There were only a handful of actual pilots in suits- 25, maybe 30 at most, but there were sure a bunch of other people hanging around. Now the engineers and mechanics made sense, their job was in here after all. But there were a bunch of people idling around, more than he’d expect in a place where mobile suits could be launching at any time. Talking to each other, glancing over equipment Judau was sure most of them never used, but all spying glances at him every so often like he was about to grow another head as he made his way over.

He wasn’t sure exactly what they were expecting to actually see today. If they were flying they would be doing it out in space, not in the hangar bay. They weren’t hurting anything or anyone by hanging out here, he supposed, but sheesh. Didn’t any one of them have work to do? The thought of Bright yelling at them to get back to whatever any of them were supposed to be doing made him chuckle to himself. There had to be someone like Bright around here, right? But so far, no one emerged to get everyone back on task. If there was a Bright, he wasn’t here right now.

Someone he was surprised not to see was Char Aznable. What, was the Red Comet too good to show up? Wasn’t this whole thing his idea? Sure, it was the admiral who’d brought the idea of him teaching pilots up, but he was sure Char had something to do with it. But something else must be more important, because he didn’t see the man anywhere. It was somehow annoying even if Judau wasn’t close to a fan of the guy. His fingers twitched in his gloves. But before he got right up to where the group of pilots stood a tall man noticed him. After a gesture and a quick comment to the mechanic he’d been talking to the man walked up to him, intercepting him and Kieran. They seemed to recognize each other, because Kieran saluted.

“Here he is, sir!”

“Thank you, Ensign. Go join the others.” He gestured behind him. Kieran gave him a quick whispered “Good luck!” before stepping away to do what he was told. With that done the man turned back to him. “You must be Judau Ashta, then. I’m Lieutenant-Commander Heinz Webern. I’ll be overseeing today’s exercise.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Heinz was the name of a condiment line back on Shangri-La, but Judau managed to keep that brief thought to himself. Not the next one, though. “Char’s not coming?”

The man’s mouth twitched for a moment in what Judau assumed was distaste for his directness. Ah. So Heinz was the Bright here. Time to get used to it, mustard man. He was sure he’d doubled Bright’s grey hair in their several months together. “Captain Char is training another group of cadets. There’s been an influx of soldiers wishing to become pilots following the Federation attack on Axis. We’re having to spread out our training.” Heinz gestured towards the group. “The pilots we’ve assigned to you are for the most part fresher cadets, though there are some exceptions. Lieutenant Monica,” Heinz gestured at a woman with dark purple hair covering one eye, “And Ensign Kielan both requested to join your group. Monica is a veteran of the One Year War, while the Ensign is likely the least experienced member here.”

“What suits are we taking out? I’ve never touched a Zeon mobile suit.” Or really any suits besides the Zeta and Double Zeta. Well, there was that one on Tigerbaum, but that didn’t really count. That was just once and he hadn’t even flown it. Was that a Zeek suit? Probably, unless it was a weird civilian build. It was a monoeye for sure.

“Your suit’s been prepared for launch, as well as some Gelgoogs and Zakus. We took the liberty of replacing your ammunition with dummy beams. The rest of the suits are similarly equipped. We’ve also attached sensors to the suits in order to collect data on your flight patterns for further learning.”

Guess he should have seen that coming. Of course they were going to be studying him. But not much he could do about it now. “No Doms?”

“Not today. Why, were you expecting Doms?”

“Nah, no reason.” He wasn’t expecting Haman to be here the first time, but a part of him wondered if she would show up. He had a promise to keep, after all. But hey, she was probably in school right now. Now that was something he didn’t miss. Did the teachers throw things at students they didn’t like in Axis? He couldn’t imagine Haman getting hit with a piece of chalk, much less an innocent potted plant. Nah, she was probably in some kind of fancy private school for Zeon’s wealthiest where there was no class discipline. Where the teachers actually wanted to be there, maybe.

... That was probably going too far. But no way wasn’t it a far cry from what he’d grown up with, that was for sure.

Speaking of teaching, time for him to teach.

“I’m Judau Ashta.” Man, he had no idea what to say to get this group to listen up. Some of them, mostly the younger looking pilots, were staring at him in a way that was almost awkward. The older ones looked neutral to skeptical, with the purple-haired woman Heinz had said was called Monica was glaring at him like she wanted him to drop dead right then and there.

Jeez. What the hell crawled up her butt and died? Whatever. He looked away from her and her bad vibes. Okay. Might as well say what everyone wanted to hear. “I’m the Newtype pilot that got picked up a few days ago.” A few of the younger pilots looked surprised, but the older ones barely reacted besides a bit of a frown. Okay. Looks like most everyone already knew that already. Judau clapped his hands together. “We all know why we’re here. I want to see how you all fly so I know what I need to focus on.” That way he’d have a better understanding of everyone’s experience levels than trying to break the ice and get people to tell him about themselves or give him a list of the battles they’d fought in. Besides, half of these guys probably hadn’t fought before or been in the crappiest suits possible. None of them looked like experienced vets. “You know your suits, get in and let’s launch.”

He heard a sigh from Heinz and had to bite back a chuckle. He thought he heard a woman behind the guy softly laughing too. But to the man’s credit, he didn’t try to take over. “You heard the man. Suit up and proceed to launch.”

Here we go. He’d better not come to regret this.

The group broke up and Judau went further into the hangar, looking for his pride and joy. Sure enough, the Double Zeta was there and looked ready to launch, tucked in with two Gelgoogs. His budding bad mood was snuffed out seeing his Gundam again looking all nice and polished. They hadn’t messed with the paint on it yet, which was good. He was sure that was eventually going to come up (after all, the last time he’d brought the Double Zeta over to Axis that had been priority number one), but the longer he could keep his suit just the way it was the better. It felt wrong to think one day his Gundam might not be the minty white, red, and blue he’d grown used to seeing every day. There was a lift already set up beside the Double Zeta, and Judau wasted no time in going up to it, pushing the lever to head straight up to the cockpit.

“Did ya miss me, Double Zeta?” I’m going to be using you to train the enemy.

Granted, they weren’t enemies right now. The war hadn’t even started yet, after all. That’s what he had to remind himself. The people down there weren’t ready to blow his head off, they were mostly cadets who’d barely touched suits before. A lot of them probably weren’t all that different to how he’d been a year ago. He could see a bunch of them joining the army to keep getting those sweet three guaranteed meals a day plus a paycheck.

... Most of them, anyway. He didn’t get a great feeling from Ms. Stink Eye heading toward one of the Gelgoogs. Monica or whatever. He’d be watching his back around her, that’s for sure. If she didn’t have dummy ammo like the rest of them he wouldn’t put it past her to try some dirty trick to take him out.

Shame Haman wasn’t here. They really had fixed up the Double Zeta good. Coming out of his fight with Haman back in 0089 the Double Zeta had barely been working. Sure, Kamille’s boost had helped things out, but he doubted he would have been able to separate the Double Zeta or do much after fighting Haman besides limp away from the wreckage of the colonies. He’d sure like to know which of the mechanics had hosed his suit down- It looked clean in a way it hadn’t since coming right from La Vie en Rose. Some of the paint was chipped, and there were some dents in the metal here and there, but otherwise the Double Zeta was looking in tip-top shape. He was... Impressed, actually. Someone had really taken it upon themselves to make the Gundam shine. On the Nahel Argama and the Argama before her there was never really the time (or supplies, really) to do much more than repairs and the occasional new coat of paint. It didn’t matter if the suits had some dirt or scratches as long as they could fly and had full mags. Clearly that wasn’t the case here on Axis.

If the Double Zeta took any serious damage that was going to be an issue. He doubted Axis was going to easily be able to replace any of Anaheim’s proprietary components. Zeon was never really one for docking or transforming systems. He’d have to keep his suit docked as much as possible. At least ammo didn’t seem like a concern, or even making sure the Double Zeta’s energy requirements were met.

Opening the cockpit and getting adjusted, it didn’t look like much had been touched inside. He wasn’t so naive as to think that no one had poked around; the Gundam had clearly gotten attention, and that Heinz guy had flat out told him he was going to be monitored. They had to have tapped into some of the Double Zeta’s sensors or installed their own. But whatever had been done was pretty subtle. He couldn’t find any specific evidence of tampering with a quick glance-over of the cockpit except for the place being suspiciously clean. Maybe the camera facing the cockpit looked a little different. Maybe. He hadn’t really stared at it enough before to be sure, but maybe.

Well, whatever. He couldn’t worry too much about Axis poking around in the Gundam if he was going to be staying here. In an ideal world, he’d maintain it himself, but he suspected that the logistics of him doing suit maintenance were going to take some time to sort out. They wanted him and these rookies flying.

Even his seat was in the same position it had always been. Sitting down, flipping the switches on and getting his hands on the controls, Judau sighed, letting out tension he didn’t even know he’d been holding in. He rolled his fingers over the handles for a moment, then sat at attention. “Judau Ashta, Double Zeta, ready to launch!”

“We hear you loud and clear, Judau. Proceed to dock four. The others will launch after you.”

It was Heinz again. The mustard man was taking a vested interest in his lesson, looked like. Well, better him than Char, at least so far. “Alright, let’s go!”

“... His readings are incredible. Just like Captain Char’s.”

The Zakus were hopelessly outmatched, anyone could tell that from a quick glance at the cameras. Even with its large size, the Gundam was far faster than them, easily dodging and weaving around their shots as though it was a reckless game. There! One of the Zakus took a shot, but it was far wide, instead hitting a rock. The Gundam shot away, turning its head for a moment as if to mock the shooter, then fired its own rifle. Direct hit.

There was the suit’s technology aiding it, of course. But it could not be denied that that same kind of movement, that same sense that Captain Char had to simply not be where shots would fire- She was seeing that in the young man’s performance. And it was just that, a performance. Even had the rounds been live, she suspected this Judau Ashta would not have been in any more danger than he was now.

Something unique to this pilot over the Captain was he liked to use the asteroids. They were close enough to Axis to not be in the thick of the belt, but he was clearly well-accustomed to dipping in between rocks, hiding from his students as they tried to catch him with their dummy rounds. Not a single one had hit so far. The Gelgoogs were closer at managing a hit, but even they hadn’t yet even clipped the Federation’s machine, much less caught it.

Lieutenant Monica must be tearing her hair out. The thought made Natalie chuckle, but she stopped when Heinz shot her a questioning look.

As if it had read her thoughts, one of the Gelgoogs rushed at the Gundam, beam saber drawn. But the saber cut nothing but the empty void; Judau had again sensed it coming and effortlessly dodged. To add insult to injury, a beam slammed into the suit’s back. Were they not using dummy rounds the Gelgoog would have surely been destroyed.

Where had this Judau learned such skills? Earth? He didn’t fight like any Earthnoid she had ever viewed the combat data on. They often struggled to adjust to the zero gravity environment in space. No, not Earth. But where else could he have learned to move around such debris? None of the major battles of the One Year War were fought in the asteroid belt, or even around Mars. There were Zeonic forces who’d run combat drills in the asteroid belt, but not Federation forces as far as they were aware. And even if there were... Judau was young. He couldn’t be more than 16, she was sure of that. He might even be younger.

Had Commander Heinz spotted the inconsistency? She turned to him. The man was frowning... But what he actually said surprised her. “He wasn’t lying about being a Newtype.”

“Of course he wasn’t! I mean- Sir.” That was incredibly disrespectful of her, wasn’t it? She tried again. “He had some kind of... Resonance with Haman. His being a Newtype isn’t in question.”

Heinz turned from the screens to her, pondering for a moment. But again, when he finally spoke it was disappointing. “I’m glad to know that story wasn’t a lie.”

So he had suspicions as well. “What do you think of him?”

“Do you want my honest opinion, Lieutenant? In all honestly, I don’t know what to think. He’s still a boy, but he’s flying circles around even Bernini’s gang. I thought he might have been that suit’s test pilot, but it’s clear he’s seen combat. The Federation’s throwing children at us and they’re leaving us in their dust.”

“Commander...”

“What concerns me is what’s going to happen when those children have fully grown into their capabilities. Look at him. Right now, based on that data... I don’t know who’d win in a serious match between him and the Red Comet. And Captain Char is the kind of pilot that used to only appear once a generation.”

“That’s an exaggeration, don’t you think? Captain Char took on the White Devil in nothing but a Zaku.”

“And every time they fought, the White Devil became more dangerous. It’s pilot was also only a teenager. Where are the Federation finding these Newtypes?”

Natalie looked back to her monitors. She didn’t have an answer. “... We have Haman. And the Captain. There might be others here on Axis. Newtypes are becoming more common everywhere, not just within the Federation.”

“Mm. I suppose.” Heinz replied in an unconvinced tone. “... If this is the future of warfare, it’s a frightening one.”

She didn’t reply. What could she say? Heinz was right. War already felt like being tossed around by the whims of fate, or decisions made in back rooms that most people would have no say in. Joining the military meant trying to make a difference to the effort, but what if there was no place for people like them in the future? If war was fought only between the chosen few who’d developed psychic abilities while the rest of humanity could only watch?

“... At least Admiral Karn is advocating for peace.”

“Hmm.” She couldn’t see it, but she got the impression Heinz nodded behind her. “True. At least there’s that.” It also felt as though the man had more to say, but he didn’t voice it. “... Continue monitoring his performance. I’m going to check on the Captain’s lesson.”

“Sir.”

The commander left, the door sliding closed behind him. With him gone there was only her and a few others in the room, also observing their pilots’ combat performances and visual feeds. Wordlessly, as to not draw attention, Natalie pulled a small disc from her pocket, inserting it into the disc drive. One mock battle wasn’t nearly enough to get a complete picture of Judau or his suit’s full capabilities, but it was a start.

The things I do for you, Haman...

Her friend had heard she was going to be involved in managing Judau’s lessons and being unable to join herself (yet, and even then Natalie suspected Haman would eventually wear her father down) she’d begged Natalie to get her Judau’s battle data so she could pit her Schnee Weiss against him. Technically speaking this information should be kept to the military, but Haman had sortied in defense of Axis before and her using the military combat simulators had never yet been a problem even if it was technically against protocol. So Natalie humored her, copying the data to her disc. At least giving Haman Judau’s battle data should be harmless. It would give her something new to fight against in the simulators instead of the same old GMs with their outdated programs (speaking of which, she’d likely be called on to update them with the latest specs soon). And seeing Judau in action, Natalie suspected Haman would be busy for a while trying to land a hit on him, much less beat him.

Though Haman’s performance had improved when Captain Char first came to Axis. Maybe this would make her even better. As long as it didn’t become an obsession; she’d be getting an earful if Haman neglected what remained of her studies.

Still... If things really were as dire as Heinz thought they might become... A few more hours in the simulator wouldn’t hurt. Even if she hoped Haman would never have to use those skills again.

Chapter Text

Mousa was a rapidly-developing piece of Axis. New restaurants, malls, and neighbourhoods dotted the constructed verdant hills. The farthest reaches were reserved for grazeland for several new farms to house the various animals quickly smuggled out of Side 3 to feed Axis’ population, but quite a bit of the attached asteroid was developing into a healthy and modern metropolis. All the newest and trendiest fare could be found at Mousa, while Axis itself still rapidly grew but was still primarily a mining facility, with tunnels spiraling throughout the rock.

At the edge of one of the newest suburbs, along a winding road that finally stopped in a cul-de-sac, there were three houses spread out from one another. The house on the left, a great three-story building covered in large glass panes letting in the artificial light, on paper belonged to a mid-level clerk of no real renown, a man named Bertrand Zenwick.

In truth, it belonged to Enzo Bernini, with Zenwick paid a small sum a month to look the other way. And even Zenwick thought he was renting the property to a man named Shaun.

He had another residence, of course. His official abode was on Axis, near the military bases. Of course he also had quarters at the base itself. His work often required him to stay late and it was simpler to remain there rather than leave only to return for a few hours. He was careful to return at least a few times a month, of course. It wouldn’t do to not be seen at his primary abode once in a while.

But more often, as he was tonight, he was here, at this secluded house on this secluded block. The other two houses lay empty, their ownership buried in a bureaucratic nightmare of red tape that could take years to untangle. Just as he wanted when he’d chosen the place.

He was not alone, hence the need for discretion. He arrived first, of course, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. This week and the last had been stressful for him. But after an hour, a car slowly drove up the street and parked in front of the second home. Fifteen minutes later, a second car approached the road, followed by a third not five minutes later. Monica never had any real patience.

Dario. Baccio. Monica. There were others, several others, but those three were his most trusted allies. They met in this house away from Axis’ watchful eyes. If asked, all three had alibis that would place them in locations far away from his informal residence. No one knew they met here, and no one could prove they’d been here without witnessing them approach the house in person.

Dario was always prompt. He took his seat on the right of the blue leather couch after removing his shoes. He’d ask for a shot as well, and a spiked coffee. Marco Baccio liked sambucca. And Monica, wildcat that she was, would down whatever was presented to her or what she could take from the liquor cabinet. His prized bottles were kept far out of reach from her itching hands. She was a true believer in their cause, but she had not yet earned the better fare.

Dario was his closest confidant and had been for years. Enzo respected the man enough to pour him a glass.

“Sieg Zeon.”

“Sieg Zeon.”

Everything they did and everything they would do was for the glory of Zeon. Enzo Bernini downed his second glass.

They did not speak about what they were here for until the other two arrived. Enzo left the sambucca on the counter, as well as a glass, for Baccio. He left Monica to her own devices. Baccio, as usual, sat on the couch on the opposite side of Dario once he had his liquor. Monica would be a moment, but she wasn’t often one to sit. Unless her mood was excellent she would be pacing around the room, and based on what he had heard her mood was far more likely to be foul.

The moment she entered the front door, her stomping could be heard, only barely more quietly once she took off her shoes. There it was. She was in a terrible mood and immediately went for the liquor cabinet, her heels clacking against the hardwood.

Baccio’s grin betrayed his intent immediately. “Hey Monica, how’s it feel getting bested by a punk kid?”

Monica immediately charged over, bottle of six-year whiskey in hand. “You shut your mouth, you bastard!”

Dario stood, but Enzo spoke first, slamming his hand on the table. “Baccio! Be silent!” He then gestured towards Monica. “And the same goes for you, Monica! Are you both children? Enough!” His hand stung now, but Enzo hid the pain with a scowl and by pinching the bridge of his nose. “Enough. Just because you are here off the clock does not mean you can forego all decorum. Now.” He had to bring this gathering back on track. Damn those two and their bickering. He liked both Baccio and Monica individually. One couldn’t ask for a more loyal man than Baccio and Monica was fearsome for a female pilot in her twenties. He’d handpicked both of them to make the long journey to Axis, saving them both from A Baoa Qu. But put them in a room together unsupervised and that room was guaranteed to descend into utter anarchy. Dario struggled with reining them in, but a word from him would usually suffice. Still, it was an inconvenience on the best of days, and these were not the best of them. “Monica. Report. It sounds as though the boy is the real deal.”

Monica slumped into the seat to his left with a scowl to match his own. She uncapped the bottle and took a huge swig. Normally he’d reprimand her, she should at least limit herself to one glass at a time, but with her mood as tempestuous as he’d ever seen it he found it in himself to give the woman the smallest amount of grace. At least she was the only one who’d be drinking that swill. At least after drinking her frown lessened by the smallest degree. It was enough. She would be cooperative.

“... I hate to say it. But if Newtypes do exist that little shit is one. He moves just like Char does. Maybe better, with that damn Feddie suit of his. You can’t keep your eyes on him and somehow he knows when you’re about to fire. He’s there a second, then he’s gone and you’ve taken five shots. It’s crazy. Never saw a pilot like that before.”

“And you’d say the Federation GMs we fought against had the same capabilities?”

“Nah, not the same. Similar in how fast they were, but they’re nothing like this guy. I could have hit those bastards if I hadn’t been caught off guard."

Dario spoke up. “None of us were at Solomon or A Bao A Qu. Lord Gihren spared us from witnessing the White Devil.”

“Sovereign Deikun was right; space is bringing out humanity’s true potential.” As tempting as it was to down a third glass, Enzo refrained. He needed to maintain order. “What we need to know now is how to foster that potential here. If the Federation’s found a way to find these super pilots we need similar means.”

Again, Dario spoke. “That will be difficult without the Admiral’s approval.”

“Of course. But we’ve seen the disparity between our pilots and the Federation’s.” He could hear Monica sitting up and raised his hand again to stop any protests. “I don’t blame you, Monica. It’s a simple matter of fact. We’ve always kept the pressure on the Federation by outpacing them with superior technology and superior pilots. If we fall behind because of a doddering fool and his talks of peace,” He spat the word. As if there could ever be peace with Earthnoids. “We will never again be able to face the Federation.”

Baccio, after draining his glass, chimed in. “At least we have the kid. And the Admiral’s daughter. Even if Char has chosen to make things difficult.”

Yes. There was that. Haman Karn was an interesting part of the equation, wasn’t she. He had dismissed her as nothing more than a child, a girl with a passing interest in piloting that would soon fade as her father introduced her to court and its intrigue. He’d seen it plenty of times, women getting caught up in the fanfare of war but soon abandoning their foolish fancies and focusing on the home front when the true fighting began. But rather than cowering in a corner like (ashamedly) so many of the men, she had taken direct action. The frightened crowd had focused on her, had taken her words to heart and rallied to do battle. Her quick thinking and speechcraft had turned the tide, even with the Federation’s newly upgraded mobile suits presenting a far greater danger than their spy had led him to believe.

Idiot! Had Patrick Kyle not committed suicide, he would have disciplined the bastard himself. He should have known to relay that kind of information back.

But he was letting his thoughts drift. He turned his attention back to Baccio’s comment. “The boy’s loyalty has not yet been ascertained, Baccio. We have to be cautious with him.” This Judau Ashta did not seem loyal to the Federation, but he did not espouse the values of Zeon either. He stuck out far too much to be a spy, but with no strong desire to see the Principality revived he fully expected the boy would cut and run the moment an opportunity presented itself. Maharajah Karn was once again being a sentimental fool, allowing him to train pilots because he was a Newtype. Like many of the people on Axis, Karn was a true believer in Zeon Deikun’s philosophies. It was why he’d been ordered here at all; to keep watch on the man. To kill him, eventually. But Lord Gihren was now dead, and more subtlety had to be employed than he would have liked.

He should have been in charge of Axis by now. If all had gone well at A Baoa Qu... Damn the Federation!

“But Haman Karn... She is of great interest to me. Her speech was widely televised. The people love her.”

He heard she had also become interested in the boy. Well, that was to be expected. From her own account Judau Ashta had saved her on the battlefield. Of course a teenage girl would be taken with her rescuer. Did it matter? Perhaps not. The boy was currently an unknown, but perhaps that could change. Another Newtype, or at least a pilot that could serve to appeal to the population that still clung to Newtype ideology, could easily be put to use. He supposed, thinking about it further, perhaps Karn hadn’t recruited the boy out of simple sentiment. For the moment, however, he would not bank on Judau Ashta coming around to lead the charge against the Federation.

Then again, the problem of Judau Ashta would likely pass in time. Even if the Admiral was guided by his heart more than his mind, surely Karn wouldn’t want his daughter to remain associated with a boy from nowhere. Girls were not just flighty creatures in matters of war. Another should soon find her fancy. After all, she’d been embarrassingly smitten with Char Aznable not long ago.

And when Haman’s attention was no longer on the former Federation Newtype, well, accidents did sometimes happen...

“Dario. You have connections with Lady Mineva’s maids, don’t you? See the list of candidates to be appointed as her guardian.”

Dario sat at attention when he was spoken to and replied immediately. “Certainly, Captain. But I don’t follow.”

“I want Haman Karn in the public eye as much as possible. The Admiral isn’t getting any younger. It can only help us to have Axis’ newest hero on our side. She’s still young and already sympathetic to our cause. We can use her.”

“Ah. You want her to take over guardianship of the princess. Are you sure a teenager can handle that responsibility?”

“What is there to do?” The maids tended to all of the baby’s needs at the moment. “All Karn’s daughter will need to do is go play with Lady Mineva when she’s older. It will take decades before our princess is ready to rule over Axis, much less the entire Earth Sphere. By then Haman Karn will be an adult fully under our sway. The closer our agents are to the princess, the better. I just know Char will make placing any of our men there difficult. But no one will suspect a child, much less Karn’s own daughter.”

Baccio spoke up again. “Isn’t that kind of premature? We don’t know she’ll join us.”

Enzo smiled. Ah, he of little faith. “She’s a child, Baccio. She’s malleable, they all are. All we need to do is point her in the right direction.”

The week went by quickly, faster than Judau expected it to.

Really, it wasn’t all that different to being on the Argama. Get up, suit up, hit the mobile suit deck and launch.

He’d never taught anyone before, and the pilots he’d been given clearly weren’t anywhere near aces. When it had been him and his friends everyone had kind of picked up on it naturally. Whether it was because piloting Zakus sucked or because his friends were just better pilots, he’d never had to tell any of them what to do.

Okay, maybe here and there at the start with Elle before she’d gotten through the Mark II’s manual, but never after that. Even Iino was pretty decent at piloting, even if he preferred to stay and help out on the ship.

With these guys, it was the complete opposite. Most of them could move around in their suits pretty competently, and maybe half were half-decent shots with their beam rifles. But lead them out of the kiddie pool of directly in front of Axis and things fell apart pretty fast. He wanted to see if they could shoot him down and flew out into a cluster of asteroids. Not a single dummy shot hit him. Some came close, but he could always sense where they were coming from long before they actually hit him. And once they were in the thick of rocks, most of the Zakus got banged up from running into them or quickly got lost. He actually had to go find a few of the pilots when they didn’t make their way back to their starting point. He’d followed the distinct feeling of wounded pride until he found them. He’d actually thought one or two might lash out at him in frustration, but to their credit none of them did. They must have thought he’d leave their asses out there.

After day one Judau figured what was most important was getting these pilots able to fly through dangerous environments and got them doing drills maneuvering through the asteroids. If any more Federation ships started sniffing around they were going to be fighting in these rocks, and once mobile suits blew up they left clouds of unmoving debris that could easily nick a crappy suit in a bad place. These rookies had to know that much at least or they wouldn’t last a second in a real fight, much less the kinds of fights he knew were coming for Axis’ pilots.

He wouldn’t have a Gaza-C to look at for a while, much less take apart to see how it actually worked, but as far as he’d ever gotten to see in battle they were total junk held together with duct tape and a prayer. One bad tap against an asteroid and that was it, their transformation was knocked out and they were sitting ducks. There was a reason he’d only ever fought a few of them before he started fighting Ga-Zowms and Dreissens. And those Doven Wolves. Man. If Axis could speed up making those he might not have to bother with all this extra work getting these pilots to learn to watch where they were going.

But that probably wasn’t going to happen, and when these guys fought for real there would be plenty of dummies, debris, and bombs blocking their way, not just rocks. Not to mention missiles and beams that whatever they were fighting was going to fire at them. If they couldn’t fly through junk they were going to quickly add themselves to the scrap pile. As much as Judau wished he could show his crew the difference between real asteroids and bomb dummies so they were never caught unawares, the technology didn’t exist yet. Or if it did, Axis didn’t have it. The dummy machine they’d used on the Argama had been fresh off the line... He’d go with it not existing yet.

His crew. Wasn’t that funny? They weren’t really his crew, they were just a group of pilots who’d been assigned to him. Most of ‘em would probably choose to be in Char’s group if they had a choice. Still... It had only been a week, but it was hard not to think of them as his people. His pilots, following him and doing what he told them. If another Federation ship showed up it was going to be him they looked to to give them orders.

He’d thought there’d be more pressure in training other people. Maybe in the future there would be. If he made it to Gryps, there almost certainly would be. But for now it was... It was a routine he could fall into, that’s how he’d describe it. Like going out to pick junk. Get up, go out there, watch the pilots swerve and weave through the asteroids and fly up and offer suggestions and encouragement.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. He didn’t know how their suits worked. And that was a problem.

He’d piloted a petite mobile suit before, sure. But that, the Zeta and the Double Zeta were really the only suits Judau had put any real time into. He’d never been in a Zaku, and he was noticing a knowledge gap. He probably should get into one of Axis’ flight simulators so he could get a specific idea of why some of the pilots were having trouble. He was noticing a lot of them a lot of them would overcorrect to the right when there was an obstacle to their lefts. Was it getting used to being able to move all directions in space, or did the Zaku’s controls veer to the right more easily than the left? He didn’t like the idea of being out of his Double Zeta and in a different mobile suit, but Judau wasn’t dumb; the Double Zeta was one unique machine even in the time it came from. Any one of those guys might be completely stumped by it, but in turn he had no idea how to compensate for a Zaku’s weak-ass thrusters and quirks.

And if he cared enough to do a good job training these pilots, he was going to have to learn.

... He was still deciding on that.

But even with those setbacks, as the week finally drew to a close and Judau really wanted to hit the hay, he started to see a bit of progress. The Zaku pilots were getting better at swerving around the rocks. A few still got a bit banged up when they got overconfident, but they could quickly recover and keep going.

“Alright! Nice job, everyone! Let’s wrap it up here for today and pick back up Monday. Think you’re all ready for the rifles again. Mohan, Zack, you guys are doing way better. Kieran, just a little faster, yeah? You’ve gotta be careful, but not too careful.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ashta!”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Ashta.”

“C’mon guys. You can call me Judau, geez.” ‘Mr. Ashta’, what was he, an old man? He wasn’t part of the military, so he guessed they were just trying to be polite, but he was just a guy giving other guys piloting tips. He didn’t need them ‘Mr. Ashta’-ing him.

One of the Gelgoogs flew just barely behind him as they headed back, its pilot quiet but still radiating a faint aura of distaste. Monica was the worst. She had attitude and enough experience that he couldn’t shut her up by telling her to do the drills most of the others were still struggling with. She could easily get through the asteroids and clearly wanted to be doing more.

Well, whatever. She hadn’t managed to hit him day one either, and that fact seemed to keep her in check. Who knew, maybe she’d be gunning for him on Monday. A part of him wondered why she was even here. Was she supposed to report on how he was doing with the rookies? Or was she here because she’d wanted to be taught by a Newtype..? He knew some of the others were only here because he was one. But let’s be real, they weren’t ready for that yet. They had to get better before he went all out on them.

When was Haman gonna come out? He’d promised he’d get her Dom ready when the time came, but since she’d called him inviting him out things were pretty quiet on her end. What was making her so busy? Schoolwork? Babysitting? Some kind of rich person nonsense? Could be anything, but it didn’t exactly put Judau at ease. She was his one real lifeline out here and he knew it.

It was those thoughts nagging at him as he flew into the hangar and landed his suit. As leader in charge of this little outfit he got to choose whether he was going to dock first or last. If they’d been fighting he would have let the other pilots go back to Axis first and held the rear, but since they weren’t he chose to dock first today. He was tired; he wanted to get out his suit and head back to his room, not wait around while the rest of the suits were docked and everyone had been unloaded. As the Double Zeta landed on a conveyor belt and was brought back inside, Judau pulled off his helmet and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. The moment the Double Zeta was locked in he opened up the cockpit, stepping out just as the lift reached him.

“Hey, Henssler! Just the man I wanted to see. Take care of my Double Zeta, will ya?”

The mechanic, an older man with wiry grey hair and a scruffy beard, grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of messing her up, Judau! She’s in good hands, don’t you worry.”

If the pilots were still stuffy and unsure with him, at least he was making friends in the hangar bay. The mechanics were way easier-going than anyone else roaming around Axis as far as he could tell. A loud attitude and a few jokes and soon they were laughing along with him and calling him by his first name. Honestly he wished he could spend more time in here, but so far he was shooed away the few times he’d offered to help. Said they could figure it out, he’d had a long day, all those sorts of things. And so far they hadn’t broken anything on the Double Zeta, so it wasn’t like he had a good reason to complain except on the principle of the thing.

He wasn’t naive; they wanted to know how the Double Zeta worked. Of course they did, it was a marvel of a suit and came right from a Federation ship, as far as they knew. Since day three of him running his daily piloting courses Henssler was always here when the Double Zeta docked, ready to check it over. Back on the Nahel Argama Iino would have been ready to help out. Milly would have come over with a smile and a torch already ready to swap out any faulty parts. And if they were swamped then he’d have to fix things on his own. But Axis wasn’t currently at war and that meant the mechanics were never overwhelmed enough to let him work.

... It wasn’t worth raising a stink about. He had to pick and choose his battles, and frankly it was better if the mechanics had some idea what kind of parts the Double Zeta needed in advance. His Gundam was holding up so far, but there were some real specific parts needed to keep the Double Zeta in great shape. Parts he was sure that Axis didn’t have because if those parts existed right now, hell, even if just the blueprints existed, they were kept under tight lock and key at Anaheim. That was going to be an issue at some point (fingers crossed that it wouldn’t be soon), no matter how well Kamille’s powers had fixed his suit. But even if that hadn’t an issue, he wanted to be in here doing maintenance. It was relaxing to let the world melt away and get deep in a suit’s mechanical guts for a few hours. Especially when he knew he wasn’t in any particular rush; if something did break on the Double Zeta in theory they could probably get him a Gelgoog or a Dom to pilot for a day and he could sort it out later.

Funny. He was in enemy territory but barely had to worry about the Double Zeta being ready to go. Back during the war, getting his suit back in working order meant the difference between life and death.

... He wasn’t there anymore. He had time before he had to worry about that again. Seven whole years of it if there wasn’t anything he didn’t know about. “Have fun, man.” He heard Henssler laugh behind him, oblivious to his thoughts, as Judau went for the lift and rode it down to the ground. A lady was there with juiceboxes for the pilots and offered the tray to him. With a quick thanks he took one of the boxes, stabbing it with the limp straw before a woman walking down from the communications room caught his attention.

“Hey... Wait! Lady! Yeah, you, wait up!”

It was the first time he’d seen her since his first day training, and even then he’d only gotten a glimpse of her. This lady was the first person who’d rushed over to Haman, shoving her way past the mechanics. The one Haman had been really embarrassed by and who’d actually managed to stop Char Aznable from doing something stupid. Man, what was her name again? Haman had said it, he was sure. Na... Natasha? Nah, that wasn’t right...

She turned, blinking in surprise and actually pointing at herself for a moment before she recognized him. Then she smiled, offering him a small wave. He hurried over, waving back. “Hey. Thanks. You’re, uh, you came to check on Haman the first night I was here, right? That was you?”

“It was me, yes.” She had slicked back strawberry blonde hair and was barely taller than he was. It must have been obvious he didn’t remember her name, because she offered her hand for him to shake. “Lieutenant Natalie Bianchi.”

Natalie, that was it! He knew it started with a ‘Na’. “Judau Ashta.” He gave her hand a quick shake, then tried to stab the juicebox again. He was actually pretty thirsty.

“Speaking of Haman, I didn’t get the chance to personally thank you. For saving her, I mean. It means the world to me that she came home safely.”

Judau shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.” He hadn’t done it for any reward. He hadn’t even known it was Haman in the damaged Dom, though looking back on it the colours and how keenly he’d felt her terror should have made it obvious.

“Not everyone does the right thing. Especially not for someone on the other side of a conflict.” After a bit of a pause, she continued. “So. You must have waved me down for a reason. Is there something you wanted, Judau Ashta?”

She was right, there was a reason. “Yeah. So, uh.” This was kind of awkward, but might as well get it out of the way. For all he knew Natalie might already know, she seemed pretty close to Haman. “Haman’s, uh, she’s asked me to meet her and her sister at Mousa tomorrow. Some big shopping thing is happening and I don’t have much, so she thought I’d want to go grab a few things. I’m guessing there’s a shuttle or a transport to it from main Axis, right?”

Natalie’s smile had faded into something more neutral, but it soon picked back up. Right about when he mentioned Haman. If there was any doubt they were close before that doubt was totally gone. “There’s a shuttle that comes from the base every day and takes people to and from Mousa. It comes twice a day, once at 8 in the morning and another at 5 in the evening. On weekends there’s another one that leaves at 7. But I also need to be at Mousa tomorrow. If you want, I could give you a ride.”

“You sure? I don’t want to be a hassle.”

“No, don’t worry, it won’t be any trouble. The only issue is you might be there for a while.”

“If we get bored, I’m sure Haman’ll know the way back.”

Natalie chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. You could also get a taxi.” Judau instinctively made a face; taxis were always huge wastes of money, and that was without the drivers trying to nickel and dime you every inch of the way. They had to earn their living same as everyone else, fair enough, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Natalie laughed. “Or not! It’ll be up to you. What time did Haman ask you to go?”

“The mall opens at 11, right?”

“You’ll want to be there by 10:30 at the latest then. There’s always crowds on the days new goods come in. I’ll get you at 10, does that work?”

“Sure. Thanks a lot, Lieutenant.”

“Call me Natalie. And again, it’s no problem. See you tomorrow, Judau.”

“See ya!” Well that was easy. Good. Natalie walked off, presumably to wherever she’d been headed before he interrupted her, and he took off too. If he stuck around waiting for the rest of the pilots to unload someone would inevitably want to talk to him. While normally that wasn’t a problem, he just wasn’t feeling it today. He was beat. He wanted to go back to his room and relax, not field a bunch of questions or dodge some of the guys wanting him to go out drinking. One day he’d join up; he should get to know the crew and maybe make some friends. He was gonna be here a while.

But not tonight. Tonight he needed to unwind.

He had a big day tomorrow.

It had been difficult to relax the night before. But after much turning and sticking her leg out to a colder part of her bed, sleep had claimed her. Haman woke up five minutes before her alarm went off, blearily blinking in the face of the red numbers.

At least it hadn’t jolted her awake. With a soft groan and a yawn, she sat up and turned off the alarm on her bedside clock.

Her dreams had been strange. She had been piloting, she was sure of it... But that was all she could remember apart from a starry sea of colour and the strange feeling of being disembodied and searching. Searching for... For...

For...

Already it was fading from her mind. The more she tried to remember, the more it slipped from her, and with a frustrated sigh she put it out of her mind. Dreams would be dreams, and likely this one was only the result of her struggle to fall asleep.

Finally, finally, it was Saturday. It had felt as though the day would never come, inching its way through the thick syrupy molasses of time. But at last it was here. Her small frustration quickly gave way to excitement, and Haman stood up, going to get ready for the day. Making her bed could wait until she’d brushed her hair and cleaned her teeth. If she didn’t get the bathroom first, Serrana would!

Luckily, it didn’t seem like Serrana was awake yet. The bathroom was hers. Haman shut and locked the door behind her, taking stock of her visage staring back at her in the mirror. She hadn’t broken out, had she? She tilted her face, checking for any marks. Thankfully, she was blessed with none today. She’d had a blemish on the side of her nose that had been so painfully annoying for the past three days. It had taken all of her will to not touch it, but Natalie, bless her friend’s soul, had gotten her a surprisingly effective cleanser. Not only had the throbbing pain vanished, there was only the slightest hint of red now marring her face. Even squinting, it was barely noticeable now.

Thank you, Natalie!

Had Judau been counting the days like she had? Did he think about her when weaved through the asteroids?

She was beyond annoyed with being grounded in the literal sense. She wanted to fly. Specifically, she wanted to fly with Judau. Captain Char had been at Axis for six months and yet had been too busy with official duties to fly with her even once. While she was certain it was true that the Captain was quite a busy man, she could sense a snub when it was presented to her over and over again. For whatever reason, be it caution or dislike, Char did not wish to fly with her. The man she had thought her hero when she saw him on television was a polite man. Polite to a fault, but superficially so. Whatever he was keeping behind his sunglasses and bland small talk, he did not want to share it with her.

It stung. No- It hurt. He did not want her around. He did not enjoy her presence. Most cruelly, he did not want her Newtype abilities. The sheer vitriol that had erupted from Char Aznable in the moment she and Judau accidentally touched minds still made her shudder. He would have hit her had Natalie not stopped him. She had been certain she would find herself thrown to the ground with the force of his blow.

In that moment, he didn’t just want to maintain his distance. His energy had not been far off from those pilots trying to kill her. In that moment, the captain had hated her.

Why? What had she done? After several days, she still did not have an answer. It went deeper than his snarled words that she should stay out of the heads of others. It must. But without a connection between them, a connection that Captain Char clearly did not wish to foster, she would never have the answer.

“...”

Enough staring. She needed to get through her morning routine. Yet the monotony of brushing her teeth did little to give her wandering mind to focus on, and her thoughts soon returned to that day.

By some miracle, another Newtype found himself drawn to Axis. Not just another Newtype, but a pilot to boot! A good one. One who had saved her life despite the enormous risk to his own safety and future. And despite this being a perfect opportunity for her to learn from a pilot who clearly was familiar with using one’s Newtype abilities in battle, she had yet to be cleared to fly with him.

Judau had promised he would ready her suit if she was allowed to fly, and she had sensed no deception in his words. So the delay wasn’t likely on his part. No, either her father or some other power was blocking her from venturing down the path calling to her.

How could she be expected to excel if she couldn’t put her abilities to full use? The simulators weren’t equipped with psycommu systems and her Schnee Weiss was not prepared for battle despite having one of Axis’ only bit carriers. Going out with another Newtype was the only way she was going to properly hone her powers. It was the only way she could learn. The real weight, the real pressure of battle was not something she could feel in a simulator, handled like a precious old century vase. She wasn’t learning by staying on the ground, confined to her house. She should be out there flying with the rest of Axis’ pilots. She should be among Axis’ finest. Not only for her own satisfaction, but for the Karn family and for Axis as a whole.

Why else had she endured the Flanigan Institute’s experiments, if not to be useful?

... She would ask her father again. School was out for another week and a half. She could persuade him to let her fly with Judau. No matter what begging she had to resort to, no matter what arguments she must present. She would fly.

With her mouth set in a determined line, Haman took her brush.

How should she style her hair? Should she pigtail it as she so often did? Leave it down? Did it look nice down? Perhaps she could put it into buns, like she’d had the night they’d met. Braided buns? Lifting the right side of her hair and twisting it, she considered it. Hmm... No, not this time. She only really wore her hair up when there was an occasion that demanded a fancier style. Even when piloting she more often just grabbed it and stuffed it in any way that would fit in her helmet without being uncomfortable. Today was supposed to be a casual affair, she should leave it looking long. But perhaps a braid left down? She could ask Serrana to plait her hair...

A loud BANG interrupted her and Haman jumped, letting go of her hair. “Haman! Haman! Are you done yet? Stop hogging the bathroom!”

“Yes, I’m almost done! One second, Serrana!” She ran the sink and grabbed her brush, opening the door. No sooner than she’d stepped out a blur rushed by her and slammed the door shut again, just narrowly avoiding getting her hair caught inside.

Ah, the joy of sharing a bathroom with her little sister.

With the bathroom occupied, Haman decided to instead wander towards the kitchen. They had the luxury of being able to make their own meals when they chose to, with real fruit and eggs in relative abundance. Her father had taught both her and Serrana the importance of not taking food for granted or abusing their privilege, but making one meal would hardly make the difference. The real waste would be in not using the food before it rotted.

Two eggs, six slices of fluffy bread, milk, and brown sugar. She’d want spices too, but she started simply.

By the time Serrana was out of the bathroom she had whisked the milk and eggs together and was adding the sugar. Her little sister seemed tired too, yawning as she shuffled along. Seeing where she had left the brush on the counter, Serrana took it and started detangling her own long hair. “... What are you making, Haman?”

“I’m making french toast. Do you know if Father’s here?”

“Dunno. Maybe?” It was hardly the most helpful response. But if Serrana didn’t know it couldn’t be helped. It meant that if their father was home, he had gotten back quite late last night. He would likely appreciate breakfast.

Serrana watched her whisk in the sugar with wide eyes, fingers on the counter. “... Can I help?”

Haman smiled. “Of course you can. Bring me the cinnamon and nutmeg.”

She should do this more often. She only knew a few recipes, but it was certainly not beyond her to learn more. It didn’t matter that they could have personally ordered french toast, or pancakes, or any number of things from the mess hall and they would have been brought here. It was about the experience of creating something.

She didn’t remember her mother enough to remember if she had ever cooked much. Marlene had sometimes surprised her with cookies when she got home from school, and they’d made brownies once or twice together that Haman could recall. But Serrana would have been too young then to have participated besides getting them one or two ingredients and watching, standing on a tall stool to reach the counter. And now Marlene was gone.

It had been four years already. Four years since the Zabis took her. And now they too were gone, brought down in equal parts by the Federation and their own all-consuming greed.

“Here they are!” The sister she had left, dear Serrana, had both ingredients in hand and beamed up at her triumphantly.

I won’t let anything happen to you. She had no power to help Marlene. But she would have the power to keep Serrana safe.

“Thank you. Would you like to pour them in?”

Serrana grinned and untwisted the cap on the cinnamon, leaning over the bowl.

“Yes, like that, but be careful, it’ll pour-”

“Oops!” Serrana hadn’t been ready and the cinnamon had come out in a dry glob, hitting the mixture. Far too much cinnamon. She quickly pulled it away, but the damage was done.

Holding back a sigh lest Serrana get upset, Haman quickly reassured her sister. “It’s alright, I can fix that. Try again with the nutmeg. Here. Hold it steady, then gently shake it. Gently, so it doesn’t come out all at once! There you go.”

Following her instructions and past experience, Serrana was far more careful with dispensing the nutmeg, shaking some out after a few taps. “You did well. I’ll try to get some of the cinnamon out. Go see if Father is here, alright? And wake him up if he is. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay!” Serrana immediately shoved off of the counter and down the hall towards their father’s room. With her out of sight Haman grabbed a spoon, carefully trying to skim off some of the excess cinnamon from her mixture. There was only so much cinnamon she could salvage, but at least some of it could be returned to the bottle. The rest she simply mixed in, deciding to take the mistake in stride. It would be an extra cinnamony batch of french toast. Hopefully the extra spice wouldn’t make the dish inedible.

In hindsight, Serrana could have laid the bread inside the bowl and let it soak up the egg. Haman made a mental note to allow her to do that before getting their father next time. It would give her a more hands-on experience, even if she didn’t yet trust Serrana around the burners. It only took fifteen seconds per side for the bread to be thoroughly saturated in batter, and it sizzled quite satisfyingly when she tossed it into the hot iron pan on the stove.

If Serrana couldn’t wake up their father, the smell certainly would.

Serrana finally returned when she had the third slice of toast in the pan. “He’ll be up soon!”

“Thank you, Serrana. Would you mind setting the table and pouring us each some juice?”

“Not at all!” And there she went, scurrying around the kitchen, getting glasses down from the shelf she only started being able to reach last year and pulling cutlery out of the drawer. As her sister set the table, Haman flipped the toast. Once it was done cooking she set it on a plate. Serrana’s plate was already ready, and her father’s was nearly prepared. Good decorum demanded she serve herself last.

“Serrana, make sure not to forget the syrup!”

“I won’t!”

The sound of a door opening down the hall could just barely be heard over the sizzle and pop of the cooking french toast. True to her sister’s word, their father appeared from his room, already dressed in his uniform but without his hair properly slicked back or his moustache gelled into its typical sharp points. He was working today, then. It was bittersweet knowledge; her father barely took any days for himself, much less for their sake collectively as a family. But on the other hand, she would not need to feel guilty for already having made plans.

Their father approached the kitchen, leaning on the counter dividing it from the hallway. His face might have seemed neutral to one who did not know him, but his eyes glimmered with mirth and his aura was warm and inviting.

“Now, what do we have here? What devious creations are my daughters whipping up this morning?”

“French toast!”

“And orange juice!” Serrana was reaching for the juice on the top shelf of the fridge, just barely managing it on the tips of her toes. She really was getting taller. A mere six months ago Serrana would have asked her for help to get anything off of the top shelf, much less a heavy jug of juice. Haman couldn’t help but fondly smile after her, though her attention soon returned to her task. The fourth piece was ready. “Father, come get your plate. Serrana, you too. I’ll be with you both shortly.”

“Thank you, Haman. And you, Serrana.” He took his plate, but not without a pat on her shoulder as he went by. Haman smiled, then brushed her hair behind her ear. The toast wouldn’t take too much longer. She wished she could have cut some fruit to go alongside the french toast, but there was no time. Everyone was already at the table. Her father set his plate down and set their coffee machine to brew him a cup, while Serrana decided she was responsible for pouring the juice. She had clearly learned from her mishap with the cinnamon; she held the container in both hands and carefully served their father juice, then poured hers, and finally her own.

It took a few more moments, but finally the last serving of french toast was ready and Haman joined the rest of her family at the table. As she did, Serrana gave her a look and mischievous smile.

Ah. She knew what that look meant. She grinned back and glanced at her father. He was taking a sip of his morning coffee, seeing whether it needed more cream or sugar. He was a perfect target!

Serrana charged first, shoving herself out of her seat and towards their father. “Hug time!”

Haman advanced next the second her plate was safely on the table. “Hug time!”

Her father was not wholly caught unawares. He knew his daughters well, he suspected he might have to face such an attack at some point during breakfast. Haman caught his preparedness a moment before reaching him. But her father had no interest in fighting back. No, he took the attack head on, making sure his coffee was on the table as he was hugged. He hugged them both back, feigning shock and soon laughing.

“Ah, luring me in with food before springing your trap..! How could I have raised such conniving hellions..!”

“We have you now, father!”

“Surrender, surrender!”

“You terrible, foul children..! Such insolence! Such arrogance!” Their father made a mockery of extricating himself from their grip, twisting and squirming to no avail. Serrana giggled uncontrollably, swaying with it but giving him no quarter. Alright, alright! I kneel to my betters.” He patted them both on the back a few times, his typical method of marking the end of a ‘confrontation’. “You win.”

“Yaaaaay!” Serrana let go right away, hopping with the exhilaration of her victory. “We won, we won!”

So they had. It was hardly a battle, as such, but how could Serrana know that? Her sister knew nothing of a true fight. The thrill, the joy, the terror all in equal measures. Taking lives without thought, for if you did not your enemy would take yours.

She gently squeezed her father more tightly before letting go. He sensed her change in mood, she could feel his attention on her, but Haman did not wish to discuss it. Not in front of Serrana. Her sister was innocent, unaffected by war. Half of her life was spent on Axis, far from any armed conflict. What right did she have to snuff out that innocence?

“... Well, eat up before it gets cold. Serrana, we must hurry. Natalie will be here to pick us up soon.”

Her father joined them with his coffee. “You have plans for today, then?”

Haman took her seat. “Yes. A new shipment of clothing is arriving from Side 3 today. Natalie is going to drop us off. If we don’t look today we risk things being sold out by the time we get there.”

“I see. Good luck on your search. Remember to take the family card with you on your way out.”

“Thank you, father.” She had a decent bit of gilla of her own, but she was grateful for the offer.

“It’s almost your birthday, Haman. Feel free to buy anything you find interesting.”

She likely wouldn’t buy very much for herself. These trips were really more for Serrana’s sake than her own. She found the styles of the clothes brought in from Side 3 rarely suited what she wanted to wear. She’d grab a thing or two to ensure she at least had something (especially as annoyingly, the clothes she did like she quickly outgrew), but she did not expect to buy much for herself. Serrana was more fortunate, there was always something she’d enjoy, though sometimes less. As for Judau, he had nothing at all; he wouldn’t have much of a choice but to find a few acceptable outfits. Still, she was again, grateful. “I’ll be on the lookout, father.”

“Good.” Her father picking up his coffee again signaled the end of the conversation. She sensed there was something else on her father’s mind, but perhaps he too had things he wished to discuss with her that he did not wish for Serrana to be burdened with.

They ate in silence for a while, though her father finally asked Serrana how school was going and she immediately went into a lengthy diatribe about her classmates and the drama between several of them. Her father had clearly bitten off far more than he expected to chew, glancing at her once or twice as if seeking salvation, but Haman simply smirked and stood, taking away their dishes and bringing them to the dishwasher. He was lucky she took her classes alone or he might be hearing double the gossip. Had Marlene not had class gossip to relay, or was she solely focused on her studies?

... She didn’t remember, and that saddened her somewhat.

“Haman, I’ll clean up. Natalie will be picking you up soon. It would be rude to keep her waiting.”

Good move, Father. She recognized her father trying to get out of the conversation, but he had a good point. She decided to accept his out. “Thank you. Serrana, would you mind helping me choose an outfit? I also need your help with my hair.”

“Okay!” Her word vomit forgotten, Serrana got up from her chair, pushed it back in towards the table, then headed for her room. Ah, to be a simple 9 year old. Leaving the dishes she hadn’t yet put in the dishwasher, she followed her sister back to her room.

She had left three outfits laid out on her bed and chair, but she was torn on which to choose. Serrana was already there, brow tightly knit and holding her chin like it was the most important decision of her life. Haman had to bite down the urge to laugh. Serrana would be offended if she did.

Her sister immediately zeroed in on one of her choices. “Not this one. This dress is ugly! So boring, like bleh!” Serrana stuck her tongue out. “I don’t know why you bought this. Eww.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” The dress was a bit old-fashioned, perhaps, but it was comfortable. She often wore it when she was at home doing lessons. There were little embroidered floral panels on it that she had found charming, and she could easily throw a long cardigan on top if she got cold. But Serrana shook her head.

“Not that one! No way!”

Okay, not that one. Haman got up and took the dress, returning it to her closet. While she did, Serrana hmmed and haaed over the other two choices. After several moments, she stepped up to another choice, a long-sleeved shirt, an oversized baseball jacket with purple sleeves, and a pleated skirt she was fond of wearing. Serrana picked up the skirt, pondering it.

“This one’s good...” She looked back at Haman, her expression betraying sudden mischief. “If you want that boy to stare at your butt.”

The accusation couldn’t help but make her cheeks burn and her chest flutter. “Serrana!” What had that class gossip been teaching her little sister? “T-that has nothing to do with it! I like this skirt!” She shoved her dress back in the closet perhaps a bit too forcefully and went to take the skirt, putting it up to her body. “See? There’s nothing wrong with it!” Though... Natalie had been complaining about some of her clothes being too short, hadn’t she. “... I could wear tights with it...”

Serrana’s smirk widened. “You do want him to stare at your butt!”

“I do not!”

“You do!”

“Serrana!” That little gremlin! The nerve of this girl! What had happened to her sweet little sister? “Say that again, I dare you!”

“You want him to- Aaaaaah!”

Haman grabbed her sister and shoved her against her bed, pinning her down. Serrana was caught between screaming and laughing, squirming to get away.

“Noooooo, no! Hamaaaaaaaan!”

“Say it again, Serrana!”

“Nooooooo, I’m sorry, haha, stooooop!” Serrana was dangerously ticklish. Haman kept it up for a few moments, then let Serrana go. Hm. She might have a point about the skirt... But a part of her was tempted to wear it still.

How dare Serrana not be wrong.

“What about the third outfit, then? Is it equally unimpressive?”

Serrana was still chuckling a bit, catching her breath. She raised a hand, taking another second, then took a look. The third outfit was something in the middle, a dark blue turtlenecked sweater dress that went to just above her knees. There were inch-wide multicoloured stripes going up the dress in a consistent pattern. It was another comfortable choice, but one that showed her frame better. “Mmm. It’s okay.”

“Just okay?”

“I don’t like the stripes. I guess it’s okay otherwise. If you have a white belt, it would look better. But...” And Serrana leaned in, like she was about to whisper a dear secret, “It’s gonna be harder for him to look at your butt.”

“You little scamp!”

Her sister stuck her tongue out and jumped off the bed, running out of her room laughing.

If she ever caught wind of whoever had gotten Serrana so obsessed with the idea of butts, that person would have her fury descend upon them. Hmph. Well. She still had a decision to make, and Serrana had only slightly narrowed down her options. A white belt? She didn’t have one. It was a shame; she could see what her fashionista of a sister was envisioning. A chunky, eye-catching belt and some white boots would change how the dress appeared entirely. Perhaps that was something to be on the lookout for today.

Eyeing the two choices, she considered them. She really liked her skirt. With a small grumble, she took the rest of the pieces and pulled them on. The skirt wasn’t that bad, was it? She would wear tights underneath...

The skirt still fit fine, albeit slightly more snugly on her hips. She had a floor-length mirror and stood in front of it, checking to see whether it truly was as scandalous as Serrana had implied. It was short, surely, but it still covered everything it needed to with an inch or so to spare. As long as she didn’t bend over...

She wouldn’t need to bend over. And if she did, the jacket would cover her. And should it not for some reason, she would be wearing tights. She looked good. Now, to do something about her hair-

A chime rang through their home. Natalie must be here already. What rotten luck! She would have to make do with wearing her hair as is. Haman grabbed a hairband to at least keep some of it back and headed for the door. “Coming! Serrana, are you ready to go?”

“I’m ready!” Serrana was already at the door. She must have known in advance what she’d be wearing. It was an admittedly quite cute white turtleneck with a dark plaid dress overtop. She was already getting her shoes on. Haman rushed to the door and opened it, and lo and behold it was indeed Natalie waiting for them.

“We’re almost ready, Natalie. I just need to put my shoes on.”

“Hello Haman, hello Serrana. Are you both ready to shop?”

“Yeah, yeah!”

After slipping on her shoes, Haman retrieved the card. Her father waved them both off from the kitchen.

“Have fun, you two.”

“We will! Don’t stay at the office too late, Father! I mean it!”

Her father chuckled. “I’ll try not to, Haman.”

“Admiral.” Natalie briefly saluted, then ushered both her and Serrana out the door. Once the door was shut Natalie looked her over with a sigh. “That skirt again, Haman? I thought I told you I’d need to make you a new one. It’s getting too short.”

Oh, not her too. Serrana giggled beside her with the most ‘I-told-you-so’ grin on her face. One glare stopped her in her tracks, however, and the girl fidgeted until Haman focused back on Natalie.

“I want to find one as close to it as possible, so I needed to bring it along. You won’t have to make me a new one if I find something similar.” Of course, that was only half the truth, but Natalie didn’t need to know that. Serrana snorted, but said nothing.

“Well, I guess it’s too late now, unless I want to explain to your father why I made you go back in. But for the record, I don’t mind making you one.” Natalie sighed again, but with far less emotion behind it. “Alright girls, let’s go.”

Serrana charged ahead down the hall, already rushing towards the elevator in excitement. Alas, running was pointless; it took the elevator enough time to return to their floor that both her and Natalie had both caught up by the time the door opened. The ride was otherwise uneventful, as was getting to the main floor and heading outside. Everyone knew Lieutenant Natalie often took Admiral Karn’s daughters out for excursions around Axis. No one gave them a second glance.

Natalie looked quite done up for a simple excursion. She was wearing a button-up blouse, a vest, and a rather ornate silk scarf as well as a pencil skirt. She also had makeup on, with dark brown liner and the slightest bit of shine on her lids. If Haman hadn’t known better, she would have thought Natalie was going for an interview. Or perhaps...

“Natalie-”

“Oh, I almost forgot. There’s someone else getting a ride with us. I hope you don’t mind.”

Someone else? “Who-”

It was clear who as soon as they stepped outside into the colony’s light. Natalie had parked her car right in front of the building in a guest parking spot. Haman did have to squint to spot it, but the colony’s light was nowhere near as harsh as she had been told the Earth’s natural sun could be. More importantly was the teenager beside it.

Standing beside the car, those absinthe green eyes immediately meeting hers, was Judau Ashta.