Eglantine Secure Comm Bunker, Gallic Space . Five Days before Fallen Grace Lelouch sat in front of the main screen, the data regarding every aspect of Fallen Grace trinkling in. So far, his attempts to move Estelle into the position she needed was done; having Elria do the work for him, without her realizing it, was worth it.
Lounging back, he was about to see about the status of placing agents on the Chant Du Cygne when the screen snapped on.
"Lelouch."
"Dear god Relena, don't tell me I made you pregnant."
"Hardly. Now shut up and don't try and worm your way out of this. I know of Fallen Grace."
"So, you too found this obscure protocol."
The woman nodded. "It was in her diary."
Lelouch stood. "Give me that book, Relena."
With a soft smile, Relena lifted the diary into view. "Come to the Oblique."
"I take it..."
Relena holds up the remains of a symbiote. "This was attached to the spinal column of my Executive Officer. You have a lot of explaining to do."
With a smirk, Lelouch canceled the transmission and grabbed his coat. Sweeping around, he exited the quiet bunker and headed for the hanger. He had a meeting.
And it was time to get this show started...and to secure Tau 44.
Returning from the rescheduled meeting, Anders docked the Intellect on Pecos and made his way to his office there. Not being around for the Nomad War that almost consumed Sirius less than twenty years ago, Davis' tale had been quite disturbing. With Gallia's already formidable Navy, the Nomads would have little problem defeating the remainder of humanity - Sirian or otherwise. As for how they'd stop it from happening, that was what needed to come next.
To enact Fallen Grace, Colonial and Order forces would need to meet up with Logarus' men and D'Aramis loyalists in Gallia, undetected at that.
The Directeur had been quite adamant about who could be trusted when he first spoke to Anders, Connors and the other staff in the room - this list did not include many who called Gallia home.
Careful planning would be necessary, and only those who were firmly against the Nomads and Gallia could be involved in any way: too much was at stake.
Although it was getting late, Anders made his way to meet with Connors and his staff in the Presidential office.
Battleship Oblique, Tau 44. 4 Days before Fallen Grace He had arrived.
Lelouch D'Aramis stepped from the airlock, his corvette settled against the hull of the massive Valor. He briskly walked forward, brushing past the marines stationed there. They had no idea of what was about to transpire. His eye defect was dulled by the calmness of his situation; when the blood flowed, it seemed to grow more distinct.
He casually entered the conference room, where Relena sat quietly, waiting for him. With a light smile, he sat at the other end of the long wooden conference table, resting his elbows and lacing his fingers together. He leaned forward.
"Colonel Peacecraft."
"Commodore D'Aramis."
Lelouch chuckled. "So formal...good to see you, Relena."
"Likewise...Lelouch."
He nodded, then tapped commands onto the holographic interface. "Read."
Frowning slightly, Relena turned her eyes to the document that Lelouch had presented to her. She spent the better part of an hour just reading it slowly.
Finally, as Lelouch dozed off like a child in class, she looked up.
"I do not know whether to believe it, deny it, or think you are excellent at making up stories."
"I'm good at that. But this one is not a bedtime story I am reading to Amelie. No, Relena. It is a story of truth. A truth I am sorrowful to share."
Her gaze softens. "Not even you would dream of shooting Adelaide...without a damn good, irrefutable reason."
Lelouch scowled. "Of course it would be irrefutable." His hands clenched. "So, you know my problem. You know my solution. You are the only person who can keep the heat off me, the Eglantine...and the resistance I am forming."
"Yes, well, I am the commander of the battle group that occupies Tau 44..."
"Exactly why I know this place is safe."
"And how do you know I am not infected?"
Lelouch smiled. "If you were, I would have been seized the moment I entered here. But why would these things take over a young Colonel with very little power in a backwater system that no one really remembers?"
Relena rolls her eyes. "A gamble."
"And it pays off."
Relena stood, presenting her back to Lelouch. After a few minutes, she turned around.
"What is the Oblique's roll."
"To ensure Tau 44 remains under the control of the Marquise."
Relena frowned. "There is no Marquise."
"There will be."
Lelouch smirked at Relena's look of suspicion. With a flick of his wrist, the entire bio of Izzy Estelle popped up onto the holo. Of course, it was a huge fabrication, up until her employment in the Ciel household.
"Very thorough. She seems like a decent fit."
"Good. Because Tau 44 is the only place I have to run. No one is looking to the conquered backwater system; they look to Bretonia and the homeland. That is my trick."
Lelouch stood and swept out the door, Relena left behind.
Goodbyes were a luxury.
Time was a luxury.
And time was not on their side.
With the jumphole energy receeding, and nothing but empty space ahead in Tau 29 - Maria "Raven" Aias let out a breath. The next fifteen minutes felt like an eternity, waiting over the energy elipse of the jumphole - waiting for any pursuit.
With none forthcoming, and no one near, she opened up the Nyx's drive core, and fed power to the engines - in moments, the fighter craft was at cruise speeds, heading for the obscuring asteroid fields of the system.
Stealth was the priority - Tau 29 had now become ground heavily fortified by the Kusari's new navy. Eager as they seemed to please their overlords, they had no reservations shooting any Colonial craft they found - but that had been a constant for years.
15 klicks from the RV zone, she lit up the special intel-grade communications package on the Nyx, pulsing a tight-burst beacon transmission. If it was detected, it would sound like stellar noise, and be dismissed. Signals intel officers learned to pick them up through repeated usage, and in patterns - as long as she only bursted twice more, she would remain undetected.
After the second burst, she got the counter signal - the Sovereign was close. Another few minutes, and her Nyx was making way towards the imposing battleship - tucked neatly inside a small asteroid shoal.
"Sovereign Control, this is Colonial two five five one delta x-ray, on approach."
"Copy 2551 Delta Xray, hands on approach, docking bay 2 - maintain half speed, call the ball."
Gentle and easy, she set down her Nyx in the cavernous dark landing bay. A few nyx's lay peaceful in revetments, and only a skeleton crew of tech's seemed to be busy. Security was tight, but then again, Terrence was paranoid about that kinda thing.
Terrence eyed the scanner hologram residing at the center of CIC, he could see the marker of a Nyx class fighter incoming from the direction of the 23 jump hole. He heard the CIS operative's voice through the tac comm.
"Sovereign Control, this is Colonial two five five one delta x-ray, on approach."
His comm officer looked up and with a slight nod from Terrence allowed the incoming fighter to dock. Terrence had never worked with Raven before, though no doubt she had read everything there was about him, including psyche profiles and fleet combat reports and was already devising a way to get to his head. Admirals weren't so easily manipulated. Yet Terrence had agreed to meet almost immediately after what Raven had told him about the reason, that and because Connors had actually sent a CIS agent to deal on behalf of the Republic, they were all business. But he had to be sure, just in case.
"Get me the Rubicon." "Rubicon actual is online."
The Rubicon's commanding officer's voice -an AI named Dawn- came through the speakers. Calm, cold and clear.
"Sir? Is there an update on the situation, I've confirmed a Nyx has docked with your ship." "Yes, how's the system? Are we clear?" "I'm still monitoring all entrances to the system, the two kusarian battleships are still stationary, some outcast and kusarian patrols here and there, but nothing to impede the operation, they don't seem to be aware of our presence. However, there is a Thanatos in system, I hadn't seen it before, only shortly after the CIS operative's jump into the system did they ping their comm arrays. My guess is a Predator variation stealth and recon Thanatos. Probably linked to the Nyx to manage a data stream to Republican command, usual CIS high value mission protocol. "Jam them. Keep us updated on any significant changes. "On it, Rubicon actual out."
Terrence had taken the risk of bringing the Rubicon from its safety in the Omicrons, yet the carrier's highly advanced suite of comm and scanner arrays were needed to make sure the operation went smoothly, something as important as killing the King of Gallia-or at least thats what Raven had said- required perfection. As Terrence got up from his two CMC-NSO guards which were always close by reacted and stood at attention near the CIC's blast doors. Terrence decided it'd be best to give Raven something she wasn't expecting, he turned to his operations officer.
"Have the agent escorted to micro-vent cargo containment on sub deck C7. Send Revolution to talk with her, he knows what its about. Don't have guard placed in the room and keep it locked until their conversation is over." "Yes sir."
The deck was almost absolutely silent except from the gentle yet consistent footfalls coming from the lone person on the deck. The tall and firm muscular silhouette gave away his gender even if seen from afar. He moved with purpose, his face not showing a single sign of emotion or feeling, his eyes glued to the next hatch on the bulkhead to his right, as he came up he could see the patched surface of the heavily armored blast door. The words Rubicon and Combat Information Center were printed on top of a large emblem over the blast door, the emblem of a flaming skull with the age old motto "For Those We Left Behind" in red. The emblem of the 44th battlegroup, an icon well known to any Republic.
A clear feminine voice pierced the silence of the gloomy deck.
"Confirm identification please." "Revolution".
The blast doors parted silently as Revolution stepped forward into the large room, it was dark and the surface of the walls were neartly lined with holographic screens and displays. The only other person inside was the acting XO sitting in the command chair -or sometimes called the hot seat- with a large 3 meter tall hologram of some sort of DNA structure in the air in front of him, what he thought to be a DNA structure wasn't human, however. The man in the seat didn't bother to look up and acknowledge his presence. Revolution walked over to the command chair as the blast doors sealed shut behind him and decided to start the conversation himself as the other didn't seem to be interested.
"Any idea as to why I'm here?" "The old man has something important to say to me, perhaps. "Heh, the old man always has something to say, as do all of them."
The man in the seat looked up sharply after Revolution's last remark, his eyes showed interest but were devoid of amusement.
"Do not mock with me or the admiral, agent R. That man has saved my ass as well as yours countless times, I'd see my entire life come to end if it was to have his just lengthen another day. Spare me your bullshit." "No need to get all protective Randy, I share the same honor, its why I left the Republic anyway.
The man, Randy Orbit -or better known as Reaper throughout the Republic as well as the Taus- lingered his eyes on Revolution for a moment longer before dropping them and returning to the hologram in front of him, he stood up and snapped his finger.
"Full bio view."
The image snapped and it seemed as if the strands of elements were broken in mid air, only to be recollected into a cylindrical triangular shape, a nomad object classified as a Sascya Very Heavy Fighter.
"See that? That bastard and his friends just came in out of nowhere, wiped out a heavy squadron and then just went along their merry way, not a single trace left behind." "Are you still blaming yourself for that?" "Then who the frak should I blame? The ships? The fraking nebula? I wasn't able to think of them beforehand. I wasn't the one who hadn't deployed any support. I was the one who frakked up. I'm the reason we lost a whole wing to those damned bastards."
Revolution was taken aback, not because of Randy's sudden burst of anger, but because of what he saw afterwards on his face. For all the time he had known Randy, the pilot had never once backed down, lost hope or even thought of losing. His determination and even subtle lack of interest in military protocol was always present. He had accepted seemingly impossible black ops operations without hesitation, his dedication and determination was something that other pilots were branded by when they flew with him. Yet now, that look on his face, the slump of his shoulders, it was as if he'd have given up for no reason at all. Revolution didn't understand why though, he knew that Randy had lost pilots to nomads before, accepting the deaths as necessary losses and had even killed his fair share of the "blue jellies" as well. But ever since Randy's reappearance after being lost in coronado, he was on edge all the time, just saying the word nomad would make him nervous. The docs had performed full body and psyche evaluations and it was clear he wasn't infected and his paranoia was regarded as a simple fear. That wasn't fear though, that was something else entirely. Why else would he have volunteered to take command of the defense research special operations group aboard the Rubicon, the man was a hardcore pilot and nothing was more important than flying for him, yet he decided to pour in his hours to his new assignment flying a research display and a capital ship that wasn't meant to see direct combat anymore.
"Well, what has the old man have to say?" "We're gonna kill the King of Gallia." "Haven't we been trying to do that for the past year?" "I mean we're really going to be killing him..or that's what the Admiral told me, some defector from the Office of Naval Intelligence of the Royal Navy". "Is that why we're here in 29, Dawn?" "Seems to be, I'm receiving a data packet concerning the operation, Admiral Westridge hadn't given reason prior to ordering us to jump to the system." "Well, I'll be on my way, the Admiral is expecting me on the Sovereign, I'll be seeing you later Randy." "Good hunting....keep fighting the good fight, Rev."
Maria was met on the hanger floor by an unassuming technician, and four guards. While armed, their rifles were slung. The Tech wheeled a small ladder for her to step out of her fighter, and took her flight board to start going over any maintenance it might need while she was aboard. No words were exhanged. She noticed the patch on his uniform was the old red navy crest, while the opposite patch was the flaming skull of Westridge's command. He refused to look in her eyes.
The guards approached, and while she wasn't relieved of her sidearm, the general attitude was one of complete dominance. The guards felt distant, the hangar bay felt alien, and the ship itself felt a million miles away from home - despite the fact it was as Colonial as anything would ever get in this universe. From the pristine Nyx's in their revetments, to the random shipwide announcements - nothing about this place would ever feel comfortable - and that thought was far more chilling.
No words spoken, she was escorted out of the hangar and through the ship. By the small decrease in temperature, she guessed they were somewhere near the keel of the ship. Zipping up her leather flight jacket, itself new - proudly displaying the flaming phoenix of the Colonial Military, and the shadowed moon patch of the 17th Rapiers - a blood chit adorned the back of the jacket with her own personal heraldry - a black raven cutting through nebulas and stars. The new patches, the new heraldry, though the motto may be the same, it was a small piece of new surrounded by years of old. Like an upstart...
...or a usurper, she thought.
Ushered into a small room, to wait, the door closed, and thick locks engaged. The room was empty.
In her entire life, Maria "Raven" Aias did her best to live by one rule - never walk into an unknown situation.
Breaking that rule now, she hoped it wasn't a fatal mistake.
Revolution frowned as he walked the length of the deck, he hated the sub decks. They were too straight and there was absolutely no cover at all. Of course, that mattered little as there was no current risk of boarding, mutiny was impossible at any given time and the only foreign factor on the ship was a CIS agent that was being tracked by heat, laser, ladar and even sonar every second. The Sovereign was as secure as a ship could possibly be, yet years of training and experience taught him that it was never safe. A few moments later he came to the end of the deck, a marine stood at attention next to a small armored hatch.
"Sir." "Status?" "She's quiet." "Open it."
The marine nodded and turned to a control panel adjacent the hatch, he typed in a code and a small optical eye did a quick scan of the marine's iris. The control panel flashed green and the sound of heavy electronic locks' thumping was heard. Revolution almost chuckled at the security, the old man had set priority security lockdown throughout the whole ship, colonial or no, the admiral wasn't taking a chance with a foreign CIS agent aboard.
Revolution touched the screen and the doors parted vertically, he stepped in quietly, the door quickly closing behind him, the faint thumps of the electronic locks sounding again. The agent Maria -or Raven- was at the far end of the room, looking straight into his eyes, projecting -or trying to- fearlessness. But Revolution could see straight through any disguise she had. The small crevice near her lip, the slight movement of her trigger finger getting closer to her sidearm and the extremely quick eye movement to check out his own sidearm and posture, he couldn't help but grin.
"Funny isn't it? How they let you keep your sidearm as a gesture of honor to not disarm your opponent yet throw you in a micro-vent room, being able to kill you with the single push of a button."
She was leaning against the far wall. The wait hadn't been a long one, but it was filled with a lot of introspection. The nature of why she was even here. Had it been up to director Belka, the Vanguard - or the Rogue Warlords, as they were usually called - wouldn't have been consulted at all. No, this decision came from the President. And it didn't sit easy with her.
"Besides. We may stand apart, but I must have missed the memo where we were enemies."
She nodded.
"I figured the Admiral would delegate this. I didn't expect it would be you."
He noticed the sudden change in her stance, her voice hardened every second, getting used to his presence in the room. At least she didn't lack reason, killing her wouldn't accomplish anything, that was too obvious.
"It's the Admiral's ship yes, though that doesn't mean he'd go down to the bowels of it just to talk with you. And no, not with me, you'll be talking with the Admiral personally, I'm just here to...debrief, yes, I'm here to debrief you."
Revolution stepped forward, drawing a spherical line around her as he went by, to the other edge of the room. An amusing gesture of being the hunter, the dominant that asked the questions.
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