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  The Narrow Gate (Naruto Fic) - Chapter 1 complete draft
Posted by: Acyl - 11-08-2006, 04:11 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (11)

"Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it."
-- Matthew 7:13-14 (NIV)

The Narrow Gate
a Naruto alternate-universe
by Acyl

Chapter One: First Steps
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. The first day of his new life as a ninja, the first step on the road to becoming Hokage...and now this.
Stuck in a room for hours and hours and hours, just because some stupid jounin couldn't be bothered to show.
Oh, sure, Sakura-chan was here...but so was Uchiha Sasuke. That meant Sakura-chan refused to even look at him. She just spent all her time mooning over the bastard. It just wasn't fair. Maybe Sasuke was using some kind of evil genjutsu technique to attract all the girls. Or something.
Why did they have to team him up with SASUKE, of all people? Yeah, Iruka-sensei had given that whole explanation about the teams being balanced...and Sasuke was the number one student or something while he was dead last, but...
It just wasn't fair.
Naruto sighed, slumping face-down on the desk. "This is BOOORIIING," he cried, drawing out the last word.
Sakura turned to glare at him. "Naruto," she growled, in a tone of strained patience, "I'm sure our sensei has a reason for being late."
"Teaching us is his JOB," Naruto whined, "what kind of lousy ninja just...just..."
"Jounin are important people," Sakura replied, "maybe something happened that needed our sensei's attention."
Privately, though, she wasn't so sure. A part of her actually agreed with Naruto, but she wasn't going to admit that. Especially not in front of Sasuke-kun.
"Aw, Sakura-chan, Sakura-chan, quit defending him," Naruto yelled, "we've been sitting here for HOURS!"
"Three hours, forty-eight minutes, and six seconds," came a bland voice.
Both Naruto and Sakura whirled at the sound - the first coherent sentence Uchiha Sasuke had said in all that time. The dark boy stared back at them, impassively.
"See, see," Naruto exclaimed, "even the bastard is sick of waiting!"
"Idiot," Sasuke muttered. However, he didn't deny the claim.
Sakura clenched her fists, struggling to keep her anger in check. She wanted to pound Naruto's face in. How dare he insult Sasuke-kun? But if she did that, Sasuke might think she was violent...like Ino. So Sakura had to be ladylike.
Besides, the orange idiot had a point.
* * *
Teaching wasn't a prestigious job...not in a Hidden Village.
Leading a genin team wasn't so bad, because that still involved field work. Genin were still ninja, just of low rank.
But an Academy Teacher trained children. Children too young to do anything useful, too weak to learn anything but the basics.
As a result, most Hidden Villages considered teachers to be...somehow less than their front-line counterparts. Academy posts were only given to second-rate ninja, or those retired due to age or injury.
The Third Hokage...felt differently.
Sarutobi knew how hard it was to teach. He knew how difficult it was to maintain the right balance of harshness and compassion. He knew, too, how important teachers were. He knew this because he was a teacher himself.
Long before he became Hokage, Sarutobi was known as 'The Professor'. Not because of his mastery of techniques, as many assumed. No, he originally earned the name for his successes as a teacher, an educator, an instructor.
He was the one who built the Leaf's Ninja Academy into its present form. Before him, there was little in the way of a cohesive curriculum. The old established clans largely trained their own children...and those not born into a large ninja family were left to fend for themselves with only minimal instruction.
Sarutobi changed that. He was a teacher.
And that was why he was listening to the man in front of him. Any other village leader would probably have crucified the young chuunin for insubordination. The Hokage, however, just sat and listened.
Sarutobi knew the Academy Teacher's concerns were valid, and that his words were motivated out of genuine concern for his student.
Besides, Umino Iruka had a point.
"Hokage-sama," Iruka argued, "I must insist---"
Sarutobi tilted his head, giving the chuunin a significant look. Iruka stopped, mollified...and stepped back from the Hokage's desk. He looked somewhat embarrassed. Apparently, he hadn't meant to invade his superior's personal space quite like that.
"I understand your fears," Sarutobi replied, "about the choice of jounin-sensei for Team Seven. And I agree. However, my hands are tied. He is the best possible choice."
Iruka scowled. "But Naruto..."
"Naruto-kun deserves a kind jounin-sensei, one who understands his situation. Unfortunately," Sarutobi sighed, "the Village Council doesn't see it that way. The Council's primary concern is keeping Naruto...contained. They want a jounin capable of handling him in case of any...incidents."
Iruka's expression hardened, his voice turning cold. "Someone who can kill him."
The Hokage winced, but met Iruka's stare. "Yes."
"That's ridiculous," Iruka objected, "Naruto's not a demon. He shouldn't be persecuted just because..."
"I know that," Sarutobi interrupted, "but they don't. And you...you used to think of him as a demon too, didn't you, Iruka-kun?"
Iruka averted his eyes. "That was...before I really knew him."
"Still, you understand the problem," Sarutobi continued, with a hint of weariness.
Iruka didn't answer.
After a pause, the Hokage spoke again. "It's not just a question of ability, or any experienced jounin would do. The Council also wants someone...reliable."
"Someone WILLING to kill him," Iruka hissed.
Sarutobi released a breath, shoulders slumping. "I wanted to assign Kakashi to Team Seven," he whispered.
In that instant, Iruka was struck by how old the Hokage really was. For a moment, Sarutobi looked his age, weak and frail. That troubled Iruka, but he pushed the thought aside.
Instead, he asked, "Kakashi?"
"Hatake Kakashi," Sarutobi explained, "he would have been good for Naruto."
The name was familiar to Iruka. Of course it was. Everyone knew Hatake Kakashi - the infamous Copy Ninja, disciple of the Fourth Hokage, and one of the most dangerous jounin of the Leaf.
Iruka frowned. "So...why can't he be Naruto's sensei?"
Sarutobi raised his head. "Because the Council believes he would be too sympathetic towards Naruto-kun...and too loyal to me."
"Too loyal?"
"I do not want Naruto dead, and Kakashi would never go against my wishes. But there are factions in the Council who want Naruto...that is..."
"That's treason," Iruka snarled.
"No," Sarutobi said wearily, "that's politics."
"So this," Iruka said, pointing to the printed list of team assignments, "this is their choice? Him?"
"Their choice," Sarutobi confirmed, "approved by the rest of the Council. But it isn't as bad as it sounds, Iruka-kun. I do trust him, myself. He's not the one I would have picked, but..."
"You...you trust him? But, but," Iruka protested, "he's Orochimaru's student!"
"He was Orochimaru's last apprentice, yes," Sarutobi said, shaking his head, "but he is not the same as Orochimaru. He is his own man, not a slave to his master. And while he might not be loyal to me, personally, he is a shinobi of the Leaf. He will not mistreat Naruto-kun."
Iruka sighed. "I hope you're right, Hokage-sama. I really do."
* * *
Naruto flailed his arms, trying desperately to keep his balance. He should have picked another chair to stand on. His current perch had a wobbly leg, which made things just a little difficult. But he'd only discovered that halfway through, after shifting his weight. The sudden swaying had nearly spelt disaster.
It would have ended very painfully for Naruto...if Sakura-chan hadn't caught him. Naruto thanked her profusely for the save, and offered to buy her ramen...but she brushed off his gratitude with an angry lecture on safety.
To be honest, Naruto felt he deserved it. But it still hurt to be scolded in front of Sasuke. He knew the bastard was laughing at him. Sasuke was all quiet and stuff, but Naruto was sure the bastard was laughing anyway. Sasuke was evil. The bastard wasn't even lifting a finger to help.
This was all Sasuke's fault, too. Naruto had started by placing a blackboard eraser over the classroom door, hoping to prank their jounin-sensei as he walked in.
But Sasuke had sneered in that irritatingly superior way of his, calling Naruto an idiot. According to Sasuke, a jounin would never fall for a simple trap like that.
So Naruto made a better trap.
With a grunt, Naruto extended his arm, slapping the last explosive tag in place. The script-laden note adhered to the doorframe, and Naruto felt the familiar tug of chakra as it armed.
Climbing carefully off the chair, Naruto ducked round a razor-sharp spiderweb of wire, crawling on his belly. Once clear, he got to his feet, beaming proudly. "How's THAT, huh? Huh? I told you, I make the best traps ever, dattebayo!"
Still seated at his desk, Sasuke arched an eyebrow. The other boy studied Naruto's handiwork, and then said in a dry voice, "Your left tripwire is two degrees out of place."
Naruto whirled, jaw dropping. "What? WHAT? No it ain't!"
"Idiot," Sasuke muttered.
Sakura watched her teammates argue, unsure how to respond. It was wrong to build a death-trap for their sensei...wasn't it? But her voice in her head insisted: Well, he deserves it, doesn't he? Making us wait for him. It's almost five hours now!
FIVE HOURS!
And Sasuke-kun likes the idea...

Sasuke-kun's moods were hard to read, because he was so cool like that. But Sakura noticed he hadn't stopped Naruto from setting the trap, and even seemed to be egging Naruto on.
Meanwhile, Naruto broke off his verbal sparring with Sasuke, and went back to work. The orange-clad genin wiggled his way back into the heart of his creation. Easing his way atop the chair, he reached for the errant tripwire.
Moving slowly, Naruto slipped a hand into position. Adjusting the wire would be difficult, since the trap was already armed. It was still possible, but it required a great deal of care and precision. His eyes narrowed in concentration...
...then snapped open.
He felt pain. Sheer, unadulterated, red-hot pain.
Naruto grabbed his butt, fingers clenching in a desperate attempt to stop the agony. His hands bumped into a needle, sticking out from the seat of his pants. No, not a needle. Senbon. Two, three, fourlots.
Naruto couldnt stand it anymore. He screamed, and fell off his chair
springing the tripwire on his way down.
Sakura climbed out from behind her desk, coughing painfully. Shed taken cover soon as Narutos ass sprouted senbon, knowing what was coming.
Forewarned wasnt necessarily forearmed, though. She cracked open her eyelids, and immediately regretted it. The smoke didn't just smell, it also stung. Sakura wasn't sure what Naruto had used, but it was more than regular explosives.
She couldn't see Naruto, but there was another shape moving in the classroom, visible through the fumes. It was Sasuke-kun, his hands flickering through a rapid sequence of seals. "KATON," he yelled, "GOUKAKYUU NO JUTSU!"
The Uchiha spit a massive fireball, illuminating the smoke-filled classroom. It was then that Sakura realised what Sasuke was doing. There was someone standing at the back of the classroom, someone Sakura didn't recognise. However, she saw the threat - he had to be the one who threw the senbon at Naruto, the one who triggered the trap.
Goukakyuu was a powerful jutsu...though Sasuke-kun was very strong, so Sakura wasn't surprised that he could use such a technique.
But Sasuke's target easily evaded the attack, treating it like it was nothing. The flames incinerated tables and chairs, scorching the rear wall of the classroom. Yet the intruder was unscathed.
Just as Sasuke ended the jutsu, another figure burst from the smoke: Naruto. The boy was burnt and bleeding from his own trap, but the injuries didn't seem to faze him.
Naruto roared, screaming an inarticulate battle-cry...which quickly turned into a yelp of surprise. Their attacker didn't dodge Naruto's tackle, or kawarimi away. He simply snatched the blond genin out of the air, spun round, and released him...sending Naruto flying straight at Sasuke.
The two boys collided with a painful crunch of bone.
Sakura steeled herself, forming the seal for bunshin.
Then she froze, mid-motion. "Sensei?"
The older ninja laughed, bringing his hands together in mock applause. "Very good, Sakura-san. I was wondering who would be the first to realise."
As the smoke cleared, Sakura took a good look at their jounin-sensei. He wasn't as old as she expected. His hair was grey, but not with age. He was still a teenager, only three or four years senior to Team Seven. He wore the standard armoured vest of high-ranking ninja, but over a white short-sleeved shirt and purple bodysuit, not the usual uniform.
There was a groan from floor level, then Sasuke's voice: "Get off me, idiot."
"Fine, fine," Naruto groaned, as he untangled himself from Sasuke. He muttered something unintelligible.
The jounin coughed. "What was that, Naruto-kun?"
"I said," Naruto shouted, clutching his abused backside, "you're one of those watchacallums, a Sadie-Hawkinist! Youre liketotally into torturing children, arentcha? Huh? HUH?"
Sasuke made a tiny choking noise.
"Naruto," Sakura said, burying her face in her hands, "you mean...a sado-masochist."
"Huh," Naruto scratched his head, "ain't that what I said?"
Their sensei laughed, gesturing to the door. Or what was left of the door, anyway. "Please. You were setting a trap for me, Naruto-kun. How was I supposed to react?"
"You were late," muttered Sasuke, shooting a murderous look.
The jounin-instructor adjusted his glasses. "Was I? No. I was here before you, actually. I'm disappointed...none of you saw through my genjutsu. We'll have to work on that."
"You were here," Sakura asked, "watching us?"
"See," Naruto grumbled, "he's a pervert."
Team Seven's sensei shrugged, spreading his hands.
Sasuke folded his arms. "If you were really watching," he challenged, "prove it."
The jounin smirked, reaching into his vest. His students tensed, wary of another attack. But when his hand emerged, it was clutching a small notebook, not a weapon. With a casual flick of the wrist, he tossed it to Sakura.
Mystified, Sakura opened the book. Almost immediately, Naruto appeared behind her, craning his neck, trying to read over her shoulder.
"You...wrote down everything we did," Sakura mumbled, "everything we said. And...these notes..."
She looked up. "Sensei, are these ANBU codes?"
"Close," the jounin replied, "it's medic-nin shorthand. Psychological and psychiatric evaluations."
"You were testing us," Sasuke said, flatly.
"A shinobi," the jounin answered, "must always look underneath the underneath."
"That doesn't make sense," Naruto complained.
Both his teammates turned to glare at him.
"So," Sakura said, finally, "did we pass?"
"Please, Sakura-san. There are more outcomes than just 'pass' or 'fail. But for now, yes. I'm Yakushi Kabuto, your jounin-sensei."
Kabuto sketched a little bow, eyes gleaming behind his glasses.
"Welcome, he said, to Team Seven."
* * *
This was a new situation, the dynamics of which Sasuke didn't yet comprehend. He didn't understand it, and he didn't like it.
He wasn't in control.
In the Academy, Sasuke knew what was expected of him. He knew what the teachers wanted, and how to achieve it.
He knew his goal in life. He knew how things stood between him and his brother. He grasped, fully, his vendetta with Itachi...and the only possible outcome of their eventual reckoning.
He knew that.
This...
This was different. This was new.
Sasuke looked across the table at Kabuto. The jounin was seated on the opposite side of the square table, with Naruto on the right and Sakura to his left. The team was in a small family-run restaurant, along one of the village's commercial streets. It was fairly late for lunch, so they had the place completely to themselves.
Kabuto had promised them a meal, ostensibly to make up for all the waiting in the classroom. So he'd brought them here.
Sasuke watched Kabuto through slitted eyes, trying to figure the jounin out. There was something about Kabuto that set him on edge - something that reminded Sasuke of his brother.
Kabuto didn't miss the intense scrutiny. He couldn't, not with the way Sasuke was staring at him. The Uchiha made no attempt to hide, openly challenging Kabuto with his gaze.
The jounin responded - not with ire, but with a smile.
"Come on, Sasuke-kun," Kabuto said, "I assure you, the food isn't poisoned."
Sasuke blinked. Belatedly, he realised that everyone was waiting for him. Well, Kabuto and Sakura were. Naruto was already clutching his chopsticks, an impatient look on his face. The blond was also literally on the edge of his seat...though that was probably due to the damage he'd suffered earlier.
"Fine," Sasuke muttered, picking up his own chopstick. He fended off Sakura's attempts to serve him, going for the food himself.
Kabuto had bought them each a bowl of rice - or in Naruto's case, noodles - plus some meat and vegetable dishes to share.
This meant Sasuke almost immediately found himself at war with Naruto, their utensils clashing as they fought for the same piece of chicken. The boys glared at each other, leaning across the table.
Kabuto watched them with a faint smile.
"Honestly, Naruto," Sakura complained, "can't you eat like a civilised person? Stop bothering Sasuke-kun!"
"I saw it first," Naruto insisted, tugging at the slice of meat.
Sasuke said nothing, but refused to give way, his chopsticks holding the other end of the meat in an iron grip.
"Na...RU...TO," Sakura growled, her voice rising dangerously.
Naruto paid her no heed, redoubling his efforts to win the chosen morsel...
...only to draw back, with a yell, when his chopsticks snapped.
Calmly, Sasuke popped the chicken into his mouth, and smirked.
Sakura was just as shocked as Naruto, but Kabuto had a speculative look on his face.
"Now, now," the jounin chided, "that wasn't nice, Sasuke-kun."
"Hmph," grunted Sasuke.
Naruto gasped, "What? What did he do?"
Instead of replying, Kabuto signalled a waiter. He asked for a new set of chopsticks for Naruto. It was Sakura who explained, her face lighting up as she discovered the answer.
"Chakra," she said, "Sasuke-kun channelled chakra through his chopsticks...and into Naruto's."
"That's CHEATING," Naruto wailed.
"That's ninjutsu," Kabuto corrected, as he placed some stir-fried vegetables into his own bowl, "though please refrain from further displays. We don't want to end up wrecking the restaurant."
For the next few minutes, they ate in relative silence, punctuated only by occasional outbreaks of violence between the two male genin.
Finally, Sasuke tired of the game. He pushed his rice bowl aside, and looked at Kabuto. "You didn't bring us here to eat," he said.
"Mmph?! Mmmph," Naruto blurted, his mouth full of noodles.
Kabuto tilted his head. "Didn't I?"
"You've hardly eaten anything, yourself. You've just been watching us," Sasuke stated, "in an obvious way. Like you want us to notice."
The jounin smirked.
"Kabuto-sensei," Sakura asked, "is this another test?"
"Of course," Kabuto replied, "everything's a test."
Naruto was somewhat perturbed by this, his face scrunching up. But that didn't put him off his food. It was rare for someone to actually buy him a meal, freely and of their own accord. If his pervert-sensei had an ulterior motive...well, so what? It was still a free lunch.
His teammates, however, were rather more suspicious. Both Sasuke and Sakura stared at the jounin, silently demanding an answer.
Kabuto rested his elbows on the table. He linked his fingers together, resting his chin in his hands. "A ninja," he said, "must always observe and analyse."
Sasuke frowned - and Kabuto grinned at him.
"Sasuke-kun," the jounin said, "you don't hold your chopsticks correctly."
Sakura started to object, but Kabuto cut her off. "I don't mean his table manners are bad. There's just a proper way to use chopsticks...which most people don't follow. These days, most parents don't actually teach their children. So many grow up holding chopsticks in their own way. Still perfectly serviceable, just slightly different from the 'correct' posture."
Kabuto turned to Sakura, then, favouring her with another of his knowing looks. "Sakura-san...you, however, wield your chopsticks in precisely textbook fashion. Either your parents instructed you...or you deliberately practiced it yourself."
Sakura was torn between embarrassment and indignation. It showed on her face.
"I suspect the latter," Kabuto concluded.
Then he shifted his attention to Naruto. The blond was the only one at the table still eating.
"Naruto-kun," Kabuto said, "you use your chopsticks like a shovel."
"Oi," Naruto spluttered, a few flecks of half-chewed vegetables falling from his mouth.
"He's right," Sasuke agreed, with a sneer.
"Yeah," added Sakura, making a disgusted face.
Kabuto unfolded his hands, making a small gesture. "Then there's how you relate to each other. Sakura, you keep giving food to Sasuke."
Sakura blushed, going faintly crimson.
"Naruto," the jounin went on, "you seem determined not to let Sasuke get the best portions. But you're also saving the parts that Sakura likes - and slipping them into her bowl when she turns to feed Sasuke."
It was Naruto's turn to blush, while Sakura blinked at him, not quite sure how to react.
"And Sasuke...you don't care about either of them, you're just eating whatever you want."
"Hmph," Sasuke grunted.
Silence reigned round the table, once again, as they digested their food...and what Kabuto had said.
Once again, it was Sasuke who broke the impasse. He fixed the jounin with a level gaze. "So," he said, "are mind-games the only thing you play?"
"Oh, no," Kabuto laughed, "finish eating, all of you. Then we'll go get some exercise."
* * *
Most of the Hidden Leaf's training grounds were wooded areas. Only logical, of course, considering the village's name and location - buried deep within the continent's largest forest.
Thus, the practice area that Kabuto brought Team Seven to was unusual. It was open terrain. Not merely a clearing in the forest or a meadow ringed by trees...but simply a large field, surrounded by a wire fence at its borders. There were no trees, no bushes, no rocks, no cover. Even the grass was patchy, with parts of the earth scraped into bare sand.
Naruto virtually bounced with each step, eagerly anticipating whatever their sensei had in store for them. Sasuke was still staring at Kabuto, his eyes hard and distrustful.
Sakura, though...her attention was drawn to their surroundings. She turned to Kabuto, a question on her lips, only to find the jounin already smiling at her.
"This field," he explained, "is used for the testing of large-scale traps and ninjutsu."
"COOOOOOOOOL," Naruto exclaimed, eyes wide.
"No, Naruto," Kabuto shook his head, "that's not why we're here."
Naruto's face fell.
"Combat evaluation," Sasuke stated.
"Right," Kabuto nodded, clapping his hands, "here we have a battlefield free of obstacles, obstructions, and distractions. A perfect venue for straight sparring."
Sakura frowned faintly, somewhat apprehensive. Direct combat wasn't her forte. She didn't like to admit it, but she couldn't deny her own Academy grades. She had no special abilities, no bloodline or clan techniques. All she had was the standard jutsu. She could still win a battle, but only by outsmarting and outmaneuvering her opponent. This open field would severely restrict her options.
Still...she had to do well. She couldn't look bad in front of Sasuke-kun.
Sakura glanced sideways, trying to catch his eye. Unfortunately, Sasuke didn't notice. So Sakura ended up locking gazes with Naruto, instead. The orange-clad boy gave her a silly grin.
She snorted, inwardly. Sakura was sure she could beat Naruto, at least.
"Rules," asked Sasuke, in a flat voice. If he was looking forward to the fight, he didn't show it.
"No killing blows," Kabuto answered, "no permanent injuries. That said, I'm a medical ninja. I should be able to fix you if anything goes wrong."
If the jounin's expression was supposed to be reassuring, Sakura didn't feel it.
Naruto began some inane declaration about beating Sasuke and becoming Hokage...but Kabuto raised his voice over the genin's monologue.
"We will have a free-for-all match," Kabuto announced, "the last one standing will be the winner of this exercise."
"You said 'we'," Sasuke observed, "you're participating?"
"Yes," Kabuto replied.
"I'M GONNA WIN," Naruto yelled, "I'M GONNA WIN! I'm gonna beat you! I'm gonna beat you!"
Sakura, however, was rather less overcome with excitement. "But Kabuto-sensei...you're a jounin."
Kabuto chuckled. "Glad you noticed. No, I won't use all my techniques, and I'll bow out if one of you lands a hit that'd incapacitate a regular genin. Fair?"
"I guess," said Sakura, slowly. Sasuke just made a sound of assent.
Naruto was oblivious to the whole exchange, still ranting away. "Haven't a chance! Haven't a chance! I'll be victorious, I'M GONNA WIN!"
Sakura twitched, sorely tempted to start the fight early. Naruto was getting on her nerves.
Kabuto coughed, politely, trying to get his attention. "Naruto-kun?"
Naruto snapped out of his reverie. "Huh?"
The jounin bared his teeth, looking suspiciously like a shark. "Ready?"
"Uh," Naruto rubbed the back of his head, "yeah?"
"Good," Kabuto said, bringing his hands together in a ram seal, "begin."
With that, Kabuto blurred, his body rippling like a reflection in water...and he was gone.
Sakura tensed, instinctively falling into a ready stance. She didn't know what the jounin had done, but...no, it wasn't genjutsu. It felt like some kind of stealth technique, wrapping chakra around his body to make him invisible.
Or nearly invisible. It couldn't be an advanced jutsu, since she, a rookie genin, had been able to see the trick. But Kabuto was invisible ENOUGH. She couldn't see him, and didn't know where he was.
Her senses screamed a warning. Sakura dropped low, hitting the hard ground. A kunai slashed overhead, just barely missing her.
Sakura rolled, narrowly escaping a follow-up attack. She came up in a crouch, facing her assailant...then gasped. "Sa...Sa...Sasuke-kun?"
Sasuke regarded her with hard eyes, kunai clasped in his hand. He lunged, closing the distance between them.
Paralyzed by shock and betrayal, Sakura found herself unable to move. She saw him coming, and her rational mind shrieked that she should dodge. But the rest of her was rooted to the spot. Sasuke-kun? Attacking her? No, no, that couldn't be right, that couldn't be...
Then her world vanished in a flash of orange. She heard a blade strike, ripping through fabric into flesh and bone. She heard a hiss of pain - Naruto, she realized. The blond had thrown himself into Sasuke's path, protecting Sakura with his body.
Naruto was already injured. Less than an hour earlier, Kabuto had hit him with senbon, catching him in his own trap. He was scorched and battered. But this new wound was by far the worst. The kunai was lodged in Naruto's left arm, halfway between shoulder and elbow. Fresh blood oozed near the blade, staining his jacket sleeve.
They broke apart.
Sasuke leapt back, tearing his weapon free with a brutal twist.
Naruto shifted fully in front of Sakura, protecting her from the Uchiha. "HEY," he shouted, "don't pick on Sakura-chan!"
Sasuke landed, still clutching the bloody dagger. Steel spun in his fingertips as he shifted his grip, preparing for a renewed assault.
"Jerk," Naruto spat, "KAGE BUNSHIN NO JUTSU!"
With a double burst of smoke, Naruto stood flanked on both sides, shoulder to shoulder with four reflections of himself. Perfect duplicates of Naruto...except they were uninjured, compared to his own sorry state.
Naruto parted his hands, breaking the seal, and gave Sasuke the finger.
Sakura gaped. Kage Bunshin, the girl thought numbly, it couldn't be. The technique made solid clones of the user, not mere illusions. She'd never seen it, only read about it. It was a jounin-level skill, and a restricted one, besides. How did Naruto...how COULD Naruto...
But Sasuke wasn't surprised. He looked almost vindicated, like he'd been expecting the move. He looked like someone pleased to see his suspicions confirmed.
The Uchiha stood his ground, meeting Naruto's charge. He 'killed' his first attacker, slamming his blade hilt-deep between the clone's ribs. Sasuke spun as his victim exploded, whirling through the cloud of smoke to knife his second assailant, while blocking a punch from the third.
Naruto had numbers on his side, but Sasuke was faster, more agile, and by far the better fighter. Even stunned as she was, Sakura admired his technique. Sasuke moved with cool, confident precision. In contrast, Naruto just swung wildly, trying to overwhelm Sasuke with brute force and sheer weight of bodies.
Kage Bunshin was a remarkable feat, but Naruto was wasting it. Sakura could conclude nothing else. She'd been impressed, at first, but it was obvious that Naruto was still sorely outmatched. The clones were easily destroyed by a strong blow, and it was obvious which the true Naruto was. He had duplicated himself, but not his wounds. A stupid mistake, glaringly obvious to Sakura.
And to Sasuke as well.
The Uchiha knew which Naruto was real. It showed, in the path of Sasuke's movements. He fought and dodged his way through the clones, dispelling two more in the process. He lost his kunai, disarmed in the scuffle, but that didn't slow him down. He ignored the last clone...and in a heartbeat, he was upon Naruto, thrusting a picture-perfect palm strike into the other boy's gut.
Naruto doubled over, a choked sound coming from his throat.
Then he vanished in a plume of smoke, the signature death of a Kage Bunshin.
The only remaining Naruto - the real one - grinned. Sasuke had taken him for a clone.
A mistake.
Naruto slapped an explosive tag onto Sasuke's exposed back.
Sakura shielded herself from the blast. As the dust settled, she opened her eyes, searching for her teammates. She spotted them quickly. Naruto's brightly-clad profile was unmistakable, as was Sasuke's darker figure.
But they looked a lot more similar now, with Sasuke's shirt and right arm marred by soot and reddish burns.
Henge, Sakura realized. Naruto had used the transformation technique. He hadn't been careless. He'd deliberately misled Sasuke - and Sakura - into thinking his clones were imperfect duplicates. In truth, he'd actually made one clone with a complete set of injuries...while using Henge to disguise his own wounds. They'd pegged the 'injured' Naruto as the real one, badly underestimating him.
Sasuke's lip curled, his expression either grudging acknowledgement or annoyance. Sakura couldn't tell. Maybe both. But his eyes...
His eyes...
"Sharingan," Sasuke stated, with a ring of finality.
He wasn't facing Sakura, but she still caught a glimpse as his eyes turned red, pupils melting into black swirls against a sea of crimson...the Uchiha Clan's bloodline, the power that made them the most feared in the Leaf.
Naruto met Sasuke's gaze, staring deep into the Sharingan. He twitched, muscles spasming...and collapsed, without a sound. He writhed for a moment, then lay still.
There was silence.
Sakura breathed.
"Sasuke-kun," she said, hesitantly, "I don't want to fight you, can't we..."
Sasuke turned, his eyes still the red-and-black of his bloodline limit. He stared at Sakura, who found herself unable to look away.
He stood across the blasted field, distant, so distant...
...and yet, the spinning Sharingan filled her vision.
There was nothing else.
Nothing, except for a soft voice, impossibly far away.
"Enough."
And suddenly, everything changed.
Sakura found herself back in her body. She slumped to the ground, landing on her hands and knees. There was a tightness in her chest, and she struggled for even the slightest breath.
She heard the voice again, recognizing it as Kabuto. The jounin was speaking, his voice polite. But there was a distinct edge to his words.
"Impressive, Sasuke-kun," Kabuto said, "an eye-based genjutsu with physical effects on the target. Not as good as your brother's, of course, but still impressive. Your tactics, however, need work."
Sakura looked up, finally regaining enough strength to lift her head. She saw Sasuke, standing rigid, fists clenched in anger...with Kabuto behind him, holding a kunai to Sasuke's throat.
"Ah, Sakura-san," Kabuto murmured, "if you can move, please wake up Naruto. This exercise is over."
Slowly, Sakura got to her feet. She stumbled over to where Naruto lay, and shook him. When he didn't respond, she shook harder, then brought a hand up to slap him.
Naruto grabbed her wrist before she could complete the motion. "Alright, alright," he grumbled, "enough already."
"Are you feeling okay, Naruto-kun? Good," Kabuto said.
In a single motion, the jounin released Sasuke, dropping the kunai away from his neck...and giving him a little push. Sasuke stumbled forward, and by the time he spun round, Kabuto was safely out of his field of vision.
"Settle down, Sasuke," Kabuto chided, "a shinobi must always control his temper."
Sasuke snarled, but drew himself short, reining in his anger. His eyes faded to their normal color as he released the Sharingan.
"Mmn," Kabuto nodded, "now sit. All of you."
They did so, settling down on the bare earth of the practice field. Only Kabuto remained standing.
"Now," he continued, "how do you think you did? Pass, fail, somewhere in between?"
"Sasuke CHEATED," Naruto complained, "he used that freaky eye thing!"
"Wrong answer," Kabuto said, "this wasn't about your individual performance. Or lack thereof."
Sakura blinked. "But..."
"Yes, I told you the fight was free-for-all. Every ninja for themselves. But think, just think. I was the greatest threat. You should have banded together...against me."
Sasuke scowled. "You said---"
Kabuto didn't let him finish. "I said I'd bow out if any of you got a decent hit on me. I said I would limit my skills. True. But I'm still more dangerous than any of you - and I began the fight by concealing myself. I could have killed you a dozen times over while you fought among yourselves."
"Bastard started it," Naruto accused, glaring at Sasuke, "he attacked Sakura-chan!"
Sasuke didn't appreciate the lecture, or Naruto's claim. "It made sense. Eliminate the weakest first. Sakura. You. Then him," he said, ending his statement by pointing at Kabuto.
"You think I'm weaker than Naruto?" Sakura felt a little crushed. Was Sasuke's opinion of her...so very low? Sure, Naruto had displayed a surprising amount of skill, but he was still the worst student in their class.
"Yes," Sasuke replied, flatly.
"In terms of combat ability," Kabuto interjected, "Sasuke-kun is correct. Naruto knows Kage Bunshin, a jounin-level technique. And he has defeated a chunnin in battle."
Naruto looked proud, while Sakura's head spun. She goggled at Naruto, almost falling over. Naruto? Defeated a chuunin? How? When?
"Hmph," Sasuke snorted.
Kabuto smiled, thinly. "But you already knew that, didn't you, Sasuke-kun? Who told you? Your brother?"
A dark cloud crossed Sasuke's face.
"Ah," Kabuto said, "he did, didn't he? Well, he would know. The Military Police were involved in the search, after all. Mm. Fair reasoning, Sasuke-kun...but still flawed. You should have seen your teammates as potential allies...not obstacles."
Naruto started to make a smart remark, mocking his rival - but Kabuto silenced him with a look.
"You didn't do well either. Nor you, Sakura."
Both tried to protest. Kabuto ignored them.
"Naruto," the jounin rebuked, "you attacked Sasuke over a personal grudge. You did defend Sakura...but only because of your juvenile infatuation. Sakura, you were unwilling to fight Sasuke-kun for the same reason. You planned on helping him against Naruto, then me, correct?"
Sakura winced. That had been her plan, at least until Sasuke tried to stab her.
Kabuto shook his head. "That...isn't teamwork."
"You tricked us," Naruto objected.
Kabuto folded his arms. "Yes. But it was supposed to be a test. Every jounin-sensei is required to evaluate his students. If he finds them lacking, they are stripped of their rank and sent back to the Academy. Now, what do you think the passing criteria is?"
The jounin frowned at their blank looks.
"Why do you think genin are grouped into three-man cells? Why do ninja almost always operate in units?"
Kabuto looked at each of his students, in turn.
"If you can't work together, you don't deserve to be in the Leaf."
Then he smiled.
"Think about it. I'll see you tomorrow. Outside the Hokage Tower, seven o'clock. Oh-seven-hundred hours."
Kabuto made a hand seal, and vanished in a cloud of dust.
* * *
"I'm home," Sakura called, slipping her sandals off and placing them on the shoe rack.
Silence met her announcement, which was what she expected. The house was empty. It'd been empty when she left, and the intervening hours hadn't brought any change.
Sakura closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She was a kunoichi. She shouldn't feel lonely or abandoned.
But she did, and it hurt.
She climbed the stairs with slow, measured steps, heading to her room.
Her father was probably still in Waterfall country. She hadn't heard anything from him, not since the last message saying he'd been delayed. She had no idea when he'd be back.
By now, Sakura was used to living alone. Ever since her mother died, she'd been left pretty much to herself.
Her father's job often took him away from the village, sometimes for weeks at a stretch. He wasn't a shinobi, but rather a trader, one of the civilian representatives that kept the Leaf fed and supplied.
Sometimes, Sakura wondered if he considered work more important than his daughter.
She needed someone to talk to, but there was only silence.
* * *
Naruto was no stranger to solitude. He'd literally raised himself, not just figuratively. His home was a small apartment, just big enough for his needs.
He sat on a stool in his tiny little kitchen, hands clasped around a cup of steaming instant ramen. He enjoyed the heat and the glorious smell of the hot soup. It brought him peace, comfort, and helped him think.
Naruto's brow furrowed, as he reflected on the events of the day.
Teamwork, Kabuto-sensei said, teamwork.
What did that mean?
His head hurt.
So he ate his ramen.
* * *
Sasuke pushed open the sliding door, stepping into his family home. There was no lock. His was a traditional dwelling. And the house was within Uchiha territory, so there was little need for security. No thief would dare venture into the clan's compound.
Truth be told, Sasuke dreaded it himself. He spent most of his time away from home, as much as he could.
He would never admit it, not even to himself, but Sasuke was afraid. He had bad memories of this place, memories of that night when everything changed. The night when he found his parents dead. Even time could not wash away the blood.
But there was more to his fears than just nightmares of the past.
"Welcome home, little brother."
Itachi stood in the hallway. To any outside observer, his smile would have been warm, affectionate.
Sasuke trembled, barely keeping his rage in check.
Itachi's eyes glowed in the evening twilight, the deep crimson of the Sharingan. He approached Sasuke, grasping his brother's shoulder. A friendly gesture...
...and Sasuke broke free. Violently, driving an elbow into Itachi's chest.
The older Uchiha barely felt the blow, the impact largely absorbed by his uniform vest.
Itachi's mouth twisted in faux disapproval. "Temper, temper, Sasuke-chan."
Sasuke pushed past Itachi, stalking into the house.
Itachi remained in the corridor, watching Sasuke go.
He sighed.
"Foolish little brother."


Annnnd...that's it. Chapter One. I've revised the first few scenes based on feedback from Aaron Nowack, SkyeFire, and CattyNebulart in my first thread. Once again, thanks, folks. I really appreciate it.
The later scenes...probably need more editorial cleanup. But this is just a draft. Chapter One ends here.
Chapter Two will open with another scene in the Hokage's Office, with Anko and Ibiki giving Old Man Sarutobi a headache. Well, mainly Anko. Then back to Team Seven, and...hn, I haven't really decided where to cut it off. When I hit a good point, I guess. I write by the seat of my pants.
Oh, and...does the title suck? >_o;
-- Acyl

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  Out! Out! Damned Bunny!
Posted by: drakensis - 11-08-2006, 02:36 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - No Replies

Just a little plot bunny I wish to exorcise.
So Sasuke departs Konohagakure, looking to hook up with Orochimaru. He refuses Sakura's tearful pleas to stay and as he walks away doesn't see that behind the mask of tears is a grim determination and a deeply surpressed anticipation.
The next morning, Tsunade gets a report from ANBU that somehow two of their empty cells are now occupied. One by Sasuke, who appears mostly catatonic with exceptions of hysterical fear of anyone he recognises as a kunoichi. The other by an entirely calm and composed kunoichi a couple of years his elder wearing a konoha hitae-ai and bearing a distinct resemblence to Haruno Sakura... who is missing. And it should be noted that the ANBU have NO idea how someone got past their security. Ibiki's throwing an absolute fit and all he can get out of the girl is that she's 'coming in from the cold'.
So it's down to Naruto and Kakashi to investigate just what happened to Sasuke, where Sakura is and who the new arrival is. What they discover is, shockingly, that despite having passed all security checks to enter the academy there is in fact no Haruno Sakura on record prior to the day she entered the academy. There is no Haruno family, in fact.
The logical conclusion is that 'Sakura' is a deep cover agent. This is correct: she's a genius kunoichi on par with Kakashi at that age, specialising in infiltration and impersonation. Worse, she's actually been operating multiple identities around Konohagakure for years. One of them a chunin. Obviously, there is NO way that she could do this without powerful conspiracy within the village, to cover up for her. It's equally obvious that the girl in the cell is the girl behind Sakura.
Ultimately, Naruto and Kakashi manage to trace the conspiracy back to the office of the Hokage and discover two key secrets. Firstly, with the support of the Hokages, there has always been a clan of ninja operating within Konohagakure in disguise as civilians and other ninja. They are nameless, always using the names of their roles from an early age. (Some are listed multiple times as different ninja in village records, others aren't listed at all so that they can fill in for others who need to appear at the same time as their other identities).
Secondly, seven years ago, an eight-year-old member of this clan was assigned by the Sandaime Hokage to infiltrate the academy and watch over Naruto and Sasuke to make sure that no outside village managed to take them away (as Hidden Cloud tried to do with Hinata). The Hokage arranged for her to pass the security checks (he designed them and knew how to beat them) and for her to be on Team Seven, but when he died he took the secret of her mission to the grave, leaving her disconnected from the only person who could confirm her mission.
When Sasuke went rogue she broke cover and captured him (using a mangekyou-level genjutsu) and entered the ANBU prison because it was the only place she could be sure would hold him and remained there with him because she didn't want to appear a threat when he talked.
Of course, this leaves the question of her actual agenda now that her cover is broken, and how everyone reacts. I'm slightly tempted to have her vanish and the teams shuffled with Naruto ending up on the same team as Lee... who is actually one of the identities used by various of Sakura's family at need... and Tsunade ordered her to get close to Naruto again...
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

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  Vet Rewards on the US Training Room!
Posted by: Mekadave - 11-08-2006, 12:35 AM - Forum: The Legendary - Replies (2)

Sweet! And they want it to be on Live well before Thanksgiving so it can be adjusted, if need be, before the holiday!
Vet Rewards on US Training Room!
We are pleased to announce that Veteran Rewards are now available on the Training Room Server where Issue 8: To Protect and Serve is currently undergoing testing. We invite any interested player to visit the Training Room and try out the awards available to them!
If you are not sure what Veteran Rewards your account qualifies for, you can visit PlayNC.coms Account Management System to view the details of your account. This includes your total time accrued toward Veteran Rewards, a list of Veteran Rewards available and any future Veteran Rewards that your current subscription will include.
We are very interested in feedback from you, our customers, about the final implementation of Veteran Rewards and the supporting management system on PlayNC.com. As always, we strive to deliver only quality, bug free updates to the game and input about your experiences on our Training Room Test Server is an important part of achieving that goal. Please visit your accounts PlayNC management page, and try out Veteran Rewards and Issue 8 and then visit the discussion and question and answer threads and post your input. You can find links to these threads and other information below.
Adding the supporting systems to PlayNC.com and Veteran Rewards to the Training Room is the last major step toward finalizing Issue 8 to move to the Live servers. Barring any major issues that come up from play testing, we plan to bring Issue 8 to the live servers with enough lead time so that we will be in a good position to make any adjustments to it prior to the US Thanksgiving holiday (Nov. 23rd). After all, more than a few of us are looking forward to playing Issue 8: To Protect and Serve over the holiday!

Global: @Jimmy Amp
"Broad-minded is just another way of saying a fellow's too lazy to form an opinion." -- Will Rogers

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  For want of a better place...
Posted by: Sirrocco - 11-07-2006, 05:31 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (6)

Something I wrote a while back, but hadn't posted anywhere. I should start writing again. That would be good.
Character study. Snape POV.

I hate Voldemort. He is an inhuman monster who delights in the pain of others. He is an abomination who should have been dead twice over and whose continued existance is a blight on reality. He is a continuing threat to every freedom-loving, right-thinking witch, wizard, squib and muggle on the face of the planet. I hate that I have to tolerate his presence on a regular basis, to come when he calls and to bow and scrape and writhe in agony at his whim. I hate that I have to constantly lie when I am near him - constantly, lest I die. I think that is why I am so adamant about telling the truth at other times, however unpleasant it may be. I hate those things and I hate him for them, but that is not why I hate him most.
I hate him most of all because when he was given a choice, of all the little boys in all the world to pick as his Destined Adversary, he picked Harry Potter. I'm not fouled in the brain enough to actually want his promised world of death and fear. I can't stand the man himself, but the thing that really gets to me, that gets under my skin and just won't leave me alone, is that everything I do - every lie, every potion, every drop of blood or scrap of pain shed to fight the Dark Lord is done as spear-carrier to that blighted child of Lily and James. I have to spend my life running third fiddle to the kid of one of the pettiest, most immature, most casually obnoxious men I have ever known, and all anyone can remember about that cretinous excuse for a human being is that he gave his life for his child. I hate that. I hate it, but I do it anyway, because this is important, because this matters. These children are stupid and disrespectful and small, but they're children, and I cannot bear the idea that they might die because I didn't do my job. I do my job. I teach, and I desperately try to instill even an inkling of the forces that they will have to fight to survive, and of the idea of discipline. Discipline. I suffer under the Cruciatus curse of the most powerful dark wizard in all the world, and I don't cry out because I am disciplined, because I am controlled. Potions aren't about magic. Potions are about discipline, and preparation, and doing everything exactly right, and if these children are to be saved from the coming storm, then that is what will save them. That and a little boy with a scar. I hate it, but I do my job. I teach them as well as I can, and I try to give them all some scrap of appreciation for the principles most likely to keep them alive. Even Harry Potter.

Thoughts?

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  NaNoWriCo
Posted by: drakensis - 11-07-2006, 02:27 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (22)

Much as I probably shouldn't visit the plot bunny breeding pens this month (you guys keep giving me ideas! for different fics!), I thought I'd give you a look at what I've managed thus far for the nameless little tale I'm trying to hammer out.



"How far do we have to go?" called the commander from her chair.
"Two thousand kilometers," replied the navigator, half-way across the smoke-filled compartment. "Two-fifty seconds at the current deceleration. We'll be below maximum jump velocity in two-thirty, jump engines ready in two-sixty!"
"All suits!" ordered the Flight Ops officer. "Make sure you're docked in two hundred seconds."
There was a crackle of responses over the ship-to-suit bands as the handful of defenders diverted just enough attention to respond from their primary mission of keeping the cruiser intact for those critical minutes.
Another wave of missiles hammered at the rakish ship and the bridge compartment shook as one of the explosions took off a radar array mounted nearby. A second later, the suit responsible exploded as a green beam of energy from one of the Tzimisce's own mobile suits blasted straight through it.
There were only three friendly suits out there - out of the five GINN that had been aboard at the beginning of the engagement, three had been destroyed and only one survivor from the Tzimisce's sister ship Lasombra's suits. The Lasombra had taken engine damage in the initial attack and, limping, had turned on their pursuers to give the other Musai-class ship a chance at escape. More than an hour had passed since they saw the flash of the plasma reactors losing containment and tearing the Lasombra apart.
Two more of the enemy mobile suits dashed in, discharging their missile loads before closing in with their cannon. The Lasombra's only survivor dived in, literally sweeping the missiles of one suit aside with it's shield as his beam rifle picked off the other volley. Then his green-trimmed suit writhed under the explosive shells of the suits. One of the Tzimisce's violet-trimmed suits was there suddenly however, and it's larger beam cannon tore one of the suits apart in catastrophic overkill as the anti-shipping weapon wasted it's energies on light-weight mobile suit.
The other suit's pilot saw that discretion was the better part of valor and his suit went through the familiar folding that converted it into a sleek aerospace fighter before zooming away to regroup for another attack.
"What's the threat assessment?" the Tzimisce's commander asked, and then grimaced when it became clear that radar officer was in no condition to reply. Ignoring a dozen safety regulations, the commander unstrapped and crossed the compartment in a single bound to check the readouts for herself.
"Unless they've gotten a lot faster, there's only one more squadron of that can reach us before we jump," she concluded. The odds looked bad - the enemy squadron was made up of an even dozen suits - but more than a few such squadrons had already been driven back by the handful of hardened veterans.
"Just once more wave," the Flight Ops officer promised the weary pilots. "We're almost home."
"Get them docked," the commander ordered. "They can fight from there and we can jump the minute we reach the point. For that matter, Nav! Bring us around one-eighty. Let's remind them that we still have fangs."
There was a mutter of approval from the rest of the bridge crew and the commander dragged the Gunnery officer's corpse aside to let her take over the controls of the two remaining beam cannon mounted along the front of the Tzimisce's spine. The cruiser's steering thrusters fired and she spun easily on her axis as the three suits closed in and then used magnetic clamps to secure themselves against the hull.
The enemy squadron reached maximum range and then both turrets fired, only a fraction behind one of the anchored suits and three of the attacking mobile suits vanished into fireballs. A moment later and the green bolts of beam rifle fire were reaching out to target the wave of incoming missiles as point defense began to track and fire.
A wave of fire flowed towards the Tzimisce as missile after missile exploded. For a moment it looked as if none would make it, but against all odds, a single warhead came close enough to trigger it's proximity trigger and send hurricane of shrapnel into the rear of the bridge. The commander's empty chair was shattered by the impacts and a shard of the hull decapitated the Flight Ops officer. Two of the medics trying to tend to the dying radar officer died with her as they failed to close their helmets before the air rushed out of the compartment, leaving only a handful of stations manned.
"We're in the zone!" shouted the navigator. "Jump engines still charging!"
More missiles rushed in, including three from the assault carrier closing in behind what was left of the tattered enemy mobile suit squadron, closer and closer, some dying under the point defense fire and others from weapons less suited to that precision work, as they fought for those precious ten seconds that they needed.
The Navigator was wiser than to simply report readiness and the instant her indicator went from amber to green, he mashed the button to trigger the jump engines. For a split second, the Tzimisce was haloed in white and then it was gone, leaving the five surviving missiles to detonate meaninglessly, light years away from it.
.oOo.
Red lights ignited across a dozen command boards as a point of light appeared within the holographic representation of that roughly spherical zone that humanity called a jump point. That colour was enough to send Admiral Rau le Creuset leaping from the couch he was napping on to the desk that held his communications panel. Fortunately, it was not enough to have several automatic systems start firing off the beam weapons of the hundreds of expendable buoys that ringed the jump point.
"What the devil's happening!" Rau demanded.
The face under the uniform cap in his display paled. "Sir, one of our pickets just jumped in, heavily damaged. She's transmitting an invasion warning."
Rau grimaced. Ships on picket duty operated in pairs. If only one had returned then the other quite simply couldn't and ships of any kind were in short supply. The only thing harder to lay hands on these days was replacement crew in fact and he would be down one of those as well.
"Understood. I'm on my way to the bridge. Get the picket's commander on the line in two minutes and activate defense plan alpha-delta seven."
Without any further comment, he cut off the communication with a vicious slap of the panel and shoved his feet into the dress boots of his uniform, snagging the long jacket from the back of the door. It had only been a month since he'd been assigned out here and it was sooner than he had hoped that his command would be put to the test.
The Greater Etiyoke cluster had always been a difficult region for the Confederacy, for it had been the industrial heartlands of the old Alliance Worlds and one of the most heavily militarized regions. When the Alliance fell, the successor states that would later form the Confederacy had dismembered the cluster to prevent anyone from obtaining it's impressive economic might and channel it towards further wars of aggression.
But generation after generation of Etiyokeans had remembered that their combined strength had been sufficient to bring many of the Forty-Two Systems to their knees and the local militias and governments had consumed a disproportionate amount of the Confederacy's limited attention over the first century and a half of it's existence. On that record, perhaps more attention should have been paid when those rumblings died away, for that had signified only the quiet before the storm.
As the standard year 2751 drew to a close, the Confederacy had been consumed with the excitement of the Christian religious festivals, the two hundredth anniversary celebrations of the signing of the Articles of Federation and the celebration of the New Year. In ten star systems, a wave of assassinations and small unit combat swept almost unnoticed through the upper echelons of government. Even as the Confederacy's second century closed, almost a quarter of it seceded and as the new year dawned, a United Government was declared for the Greater Etiyoke Cluster.
The Confederacy Defense Militias had been called upon to put down the rebellion, only to discover that the jump points were guarded by fleets significantly larger than intelligence had suggested and equipped with weapons that had definitely not been drawn from the armories of the militias from Etiyoke. The result had typically been disaster as vessels emerged blindly into killing zones. Rau le Creuset himself had made the first step towards his current rank when he inherited command of the damaged Chivvay-class Heavy Cruiser Gettysburk he was navigating and managed to plot a hasty jump back in time to warn off the remains of the overconfident Iayuvian militias. Out of the thirty ships that had jumped into Etiyokean space, only the Gettysburk and a lone Musai had escaped and on the other routes, casualties had been even worse.
With the local militias devastated, the Etiyokeans had pushed forward an offensive before reinforcements from more distant systems could arrive. The Lesser Etiyoke Cluster had been fortunate enough to have reinforcements arrive in time and the lone jump point leading between the two clusters had seen the Etiyokean forces take losses almost as severe as they had inflicted weeks before. Ezoe had done less well and by seizing the key border systems, Etiyoke forced the defenses to be spread thin to guard several more and drained the reserves even more heavily to contain them there.
Finally, in the Iayuvi cluster, the battle had raged back and forth as the militias had been pushed back from the jump point but not allowed the Etiyoke squadrons to push through the vital connection to the two jump points leading into the rest of the cluster - most importantly, to Terra. Finally, a large force of Militia ships had transited from the Zjevlovecoe system and the defenders had welcomed their allies... until those very ships suddenly switched their IDs and opened fire on them.
The ships had come from Etiyoke's militias, now absorbed into what had become the Unity Government Enforcers, and their betrayal had broken the back of the defenses. Ironically, the lack of a strong central command had been all that saved the militia fleet, as individual ships and squadrons scattered and fled, the confusion made it impossible for the Enforcers to be sure if there was a counterattack underway until the handful of ships Rau had been able to hold together were already firing.
There had been little time, for if Zjevlovecoe had fallen then Terra itself was threatened, but Rau's crew had abandoned the Gettysburk moments before the automatic controls sent it ramming into one of the Enforcer's two Gwazine-class battleships and under the cover of his mobile suits they boarded the second and overwhelmed the crew of the other, retaking it for the Confederacy and racing back to the Terra jump point and thence to Alpha Iayuvi when the Terran government abruptly declared their neutrality.
That particular idiocy had at least served to keep the mother world from being bombarded, or even occupied, but the fighting over the other worlds had lasted for months. Rau and the Confederate had been one of the few bright spots of the Confederacy's record in the war, so far, and he was flung into combat over Mars and then for the Jupiter colonies, exacting a heavy toll before being driven back and out of the Solar system, buying time for the rest of the Confederacy to organize its resources.
And now, as a newly-minted Admiral, without even time to break the habit of answering his telephone as 'Commodore le Creuset', he had been placed in command of the defenses for Alpha Iayuvi.
It was an important role. The three systems that gave the cluster it's name were among the oldest of the Forty-Two Worlds, having been colonized in the first decades after the discovery of jump points. If they were to fall then nothing but a rump of the cluster would remain in the hands of the Confederacy, which would carry a potentially disastrous impact upon both morale and on economic might. However, resources were slim. He could be spared only his own Confederate, the Dolos-class heavy carrier Enterprise and a mix of Chivvay and Musai-class cruisers. Together, the ships could field roughly two hundred mobile suits and there were also emplaced defenses - a network of sensor and weapon buoys around the jump point, backed by two asteroid bases hastily converted to house an additional fifty mobile suits.
It would have to suffice.
The bridge was a large, open room that located the commander's seat rather regally at the back, with the work stations around the edge of a sizeable (for a space ship) open square of deck that allowed for a number of staff to stand around at the commander's presence. One of the changes that Rau had made was to have a large holodisplay set up in the centre, so that he had a large tactical display to work with.
No sooner had he entered the room than the display created a smaller window facing his command chair and displayed the worried face of Commander Talia Gladys behind the visor of a spacesuit helmet. Rau viewed her with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was a capable officer but she also owed at least part of her rank to political connections. It was an odd prejudice to have in the Militias - given that the Militias owed their direct allegiances firstly to the various Families and only then to the Confederacy - but Rau had his doubts about Talia' Dullindal patrons. That family occupied a moderate stance and Gilbert Dullindal, while objectively a capable executive of his own world was one of the leaders amongst the small faction that had indicated that they would be favorably inclined towards a peace agreement even if it left Greater Etiyoke to go it's own way.
On the other hand, Talia Gladys was the commander of the Tzimisce, which suggested that the Lasombra had come to grief out in the Zjevlovecoe system. It was a pity, but if there was any ship in his small fleet that Rau would be dry-eyed about losing, the Lasombra might be it. Not for any crime of the ship, but because of one of the crew.
"Commander," he greeted her, settling into his seat. "What's going on across there?"
Talia sighed. "They're on their way here, sir. We got jumped by a carrier's worth of those transforming mobile suits and saw the carrier at long range. It was one of their assault jobs - best guess is that they wanted to punch out the picket so that they could jump without you receiving a warning. Since we made it back..."
"They'll either abandon the operation or push ahead before we can call in support," he said. "Agreed and a very good job on your part, Commander. How are your people?"
"Too many lost, sir. The sickbay took a hit early on and at least a third of the ship is depressurized. We can move and fight, but we're a long way from business as usual. Probably need a dockyard at some point. And the Lasombra's a complete loss - we saw her reactor go. They got their suits off first but only one of them lasted to get back with us."
Rau hid a grimace at the news. It wouldn't do to show regret at anyone's survival, but if only one pilot had survived then he could guess quite easily who it would have been. "Let me guess, Flight Lieutenant la Flaga made it back?" At her nod, he raised one eyebrow. "The man's definitely a survivor."
"Alright Commander. I can't offer you a dockyard at the moment, but move yourself over to Jachin Due. They'll be glad of all the close support that you can offer if the Enforcers do come through and Having a few veterans with them should stiffen up the suit squadrons there."
The Commander looked like she was going to point out the old truism that you can't stiffen spit with ball bearings, but refrained. He understood her feelings - the squadrons at Boaz and Jachin Due were made up almost entirely of novices right out of flight training and operating older suits. Not any older than the GINN's that had operated with the pickets, but significantly inferior to the CGUE suits on the Enterprise or the newer GuAIZs that hadn't even reached the frontlines yet. Still, some of the pilots would probably turn out well, if they survived long enough.
.oOo.
The hangers of a Musai-class cruiser such as the Tzimisce are located not far below the bridge, so it took Talia only a short while to reach the large compartment. It was open to space as the doors at the back had been opened to admit the incoming mobile suits, but that was no surprise for the large hanger was only very rarely pressurized.
The Tzimisce's own mobile suits had already landed and being moved into their docked locations at the front of the hanger, leaving only a relatively narrow space for the last suit to land. Talia held her breath as the damaged GINN entered the hanged carefully and a slight shock went through the deck as it settled onto the catapult. The surviving Techs rushed forwards to secure it and the large doors began to fold open.
All the suits had taken damage she realised - Miguel Aiman's was missing an arm, which must have limited it's ability to handle the heavy beam cannon it carried, and Heine Westenfluss's suit was so scorched and blackened that it was hard to make out the original colour scheme. The last GINN was the worst off, with one leg reduced to an immobile stump and the rear thrusters torn halfway. She was surprised that it had managed to make it back to the hanger.
When the suit's hatch opened, a broad shouldered figure in a violet-trimmed flight suit emerged. This would be the mysterious Flight Lieutenant that the Admiral thought had a knack for survival. There had been a hint of dislike in that comment and she wondered what lay behind it. Gliding along the gantry, she gestured for the three pilots to go down the ship into the general crew quarters rather than up into the pilot's ready rooms which had been opened to space by the same impact that had done such damage to the bridge.
The two Flight Officers were still in their teens, she remembered as she followed them down to one of the still pressurized sections of the ship, but La Flaga had sounded like an older man over the radio. This was confirmed once they were safe to remove their helmets - he was five or six years older than the other pilots, with a handsome face not covered by the half-mask that was fashionable in some parts of the Confederacy and slightly tousled blond hair.
"Welcome to the Tzimisce, Lieutenant," she told him. "Sorry about the Lasombra."
"She was a good ship," he said with grim resignment and she guessed that he had been in the Militias since before the war. That was the reaction of a seasoned soldier, few and far between these days.
"And welcome back to the two of you," she added to Miguel and Heine. "Although you won't be here long, I'm afraid. Probably not long enough to even get out of those flight suits."
"We're being reassigned?" Miguel exclaimed. "What for."
"You may not have noticed, Flight Officer," Talia observed testily, "But my ship is just a little broken at the moment. We'll be deployed in close support of the Jachin Due forward base until there's time for repairs and the three of you are going to be joining their mobile suit detachment. Most of their pilots are right out of the flight school so they'll need the benefits of your experience." Her face softened. "The pilots quarters took some damage in the fight but you've got an hour or so to salvage what you can before you leave."
The youngsters saluted promptly before departing upwards again. Heine halted in the door. "Commander?"
"Mr. Westenfluss?"
"I'd just like to say that it's been an honor to serve aboard the Tzimisce, ma'am. I hope to have the chance again."
Talia nodded. "You've done very well, Mr Westenfluss. And if you're available for my flight group in the future, I'll be glad to have you aboard."
Flight Lieutenant Mu La Flaga smiled thinly at the exchange. After almost six years in service, he knew how the Confederacy Defense Militia really worked and recongised the offer and it's acceptance. It was more the rule than the exception for officers to form cotories of junior officers, promoting their careers in return for their junior's support and loyalty. It also allowed officers to pool their connections within the Confederacy to obtain the best possible supplies and assignments.
In this case, Commander Gladys had obtained the support of the Westenfluss should it be necessary in future, and would probably get a good flight officer for her next command if they could arrange the assignment. For his part, Heine would have a mentor, and likely a shot at Flight Lieutenancy earlier than would normally have been the case, as well as the protection of a patron favored by the Dullindal family. It was hard for him to criticise - he knew his own career would not have done so well had he not had the La Flaga name to fall back upon and a mentor in the late Admiral Halliburton, but objectively, he had to worry about how it divided the Militias against themselves.
"I imagine you don't have much in the way of kit, Lieutenant," Talia asked him, breaking him out of his reverie.
"Nothing I'm not carrying," he said, spreading his hands illustratively. Since all he was wearing was the standard flightsuit, unencumbered by even a survival pack, that meant he probably didn't have anything more than whatever he wore beneath it - not even a uniform.
"Well, I think some of our supply rooms survived," Talia advised the man. "We should at least be able to provide some of the basics. Go requisition yourself a couple of uniforms before you leave - they'll not do anyone any good here and you can't wander around in a flight suit forever."
.oOo.
It was slightly more than an hour later that the three mobile suits, somewhat patched up but still a long way from being fully operational, stepped out of the hanger one at a time (the catapults were out of action and would be for at least another couple of days) and flew slowly across the kilometre or so of empty space that seperated the Tzimisce from the looming mass of Jachin Due.
The asteroid had been tunnelled out during a mining operation centuries ago, and then the tunnels had been dug into storage and facilities for freelance asteroid miners ever since. It had taken almost a month for tugs to bring it out to the jump point, but the thick rock would provide a good layer of defense against most weapons, protecting the hanger bays buried deep inside. A sliding door covered one of the old mining shafts and once the three suits entered, it closed behind them. Three more doors shielded the interior of the asteroid where a dock once used by small one-man prospecting skiffs now held almost thirty GINNs.
Techs with lighted batons steered the new arrivals towards berths near the back were repair gear was being prepared. Obviously, getting their suits up and running would be an immediate priority for the base. From the look of the paintsprayer, they'd also be getting repainted at the same time.
A slight woman with close-cropped black hair was standing just inside the airlock once they had disembarked from their suits and entered the base itself. All three men saluted as they saw that her red uniform jacket had the single silver star of a Commander on both epalettes. "Welcome to Jachin Due," she told them, returning the salute. "I'm Commander Noin, the flight group's commanding officer. Or chief babysitter, as it sometimes comes down to."
"Flight Lieutenant La Flaga," Mu replied. "Pleased to be aboard. Should I ask about the babies?"
Noin grimaced. "They're not as bad as pilots go," she explained. "But the average age of pilot in our flight group is seventeen, and that's with the handful of experienced pilots pulling the average up."
Mu winced. Twenty-odd teenagers convinced of their own immortality and with all the confidence of a pilot who'd never seen combat... it sounded quite nerve-wraking.
"They're really scraping the barrel," muttered Miguel from his lofty status as an eighteen year old and ace.
"I'll expect you to be an example to them, Flight Officer Aiman," Noin replied. "I'd offer to keep you together, but frankly, I need to spread your experience as widely as possible. With the three of you, we have thirty mobile suits. I'm going to shuffle that into six teams of five and put one of you into each group." She pulled out a clipboard. "Mr. Aiman will be in Team Gold under Lieutenant Matthews. He's got seniority but no actual combat experience, and he's smart enough to listen to advice. Mr Westenfluss, you get to play nursemaid to Team Orange under Lieutenant Olor. She's not senior at all I'm afraid, but she is connected so try to be nice while you're in the base. If she gets out of line outside, take over. That's a direct order from me and I'll back you to the hilt."
Heine gulped. That was a legal order - barely - but it was not one that any officer in the Militias wanted to hear. The Families had long memories for slights and if he wound up ousting Lieutenant Olor then there was every chance of a feud breaking out between the two families.
Noin, for her part, smiled thinly as she saw the hint drop in. "The pilot quarters are seperated by team," she said. "You shouldn't have any difficulty finding them. Here," she passed each of them a sheet of paper from the clipboard. "Room numbers for each Team and the briefing room. Go meet your people and get some sleep. The best guess is that we have at least a few more hours before the Etiyokeans can concentrate their assault force."
"So what burden do I receive, Commander?" Mu asked once the boys were out of sight around a corner. "I notice that you didn't want to name names around the others."
"They'll hear soon enough," Noin replied drily. "Team Violet is made up of pilots with the highest connections."
"Council?" Mu asked.
"Committee," she confessed.
The blond was severely tempted to start beating his head against the wall. Flying with pilots connected to the Confederacy Council would be awkward enough. When they were connected to members of the Militias Command Committee, things would be about a hundred times worse. "Who?" he asked faintly.
"Joule, Amalfi, Elsmann and Zala."
Mu buried his face in one gloved hand. Patrick Zala was currently the deputy chairman of the Committee, and Ezra Joule would probably replace him if Zala managed to unseat the incumbent chairman during the next elections. That made keeping his squad alive and out of enemy hands into an almost national priority. "I'm trying to imagine how things could get worse, and right now I'm running short on options," he admitted.
"Well, at least we have a little warning," Noin pointed out. "Every minute they don't attack is a little readier that we are."
"That's assuming they don't blindside us again," Mu pointed out. "We still don't know how they managed to get into Zjevlovecoe without going through Okireul. We had the jump point from Nyiiureul locked solid and that's the only route between the clusters. If they manage to blindside us again, well, we could lose the whole front."
"That mustn't happen," Noin said flatly. "The political situation's looking pretty shaky as it is. If we take another major defeat it might not be Zala or Clyne in the Chairman's seat come the election. If we get some whacko pacifist, then this war's over and it'll be the Alliance all over again."
Mu sighed. "Well hell, I guess we'll have to win then."
"And if we need a miracle," Noin suggested, a slight grin crossing her face. "We have you and Rau le Creuset here, that's doubly lucky."
She spent much of the next few hours wondering at the shadow that crossed his face at her wisecrack.
.oOo.
With the surprise lost, all that the Enforcers could do was either abandon their attack or proceed anyway. In the grand tradition of gamblers anyway, they put all their chips on the table and less than eight hours after the Tzimisce's arrival, six of their Daedalus-class Assault Carriers jumped in rapid succession.
The problem with attacking through a jump point is that you're attacking blindly, without sure knowledge of what the defenses will be, while the defenders know that any attack will have to come through a relatively limited space. The best hope is that the defenders cannot know exactly when that attack will come through and it is not and never had been possible to keep defenses at full readiness at all times.
Without surprise, the Enforcers knew that they would face defenses readied for them. But they also knew that wars are not won without risk. Six assault carriers was a formidable force to lead them through: each was sixty-percent larger than the Enterprise and carried sixty-percent more suits, albeit the smaller and more fragile models that the factories of Greater Etiyoke were turning out in such numbers. They lacked the formidable energy armament of the smaller ship, but then again, there were six of them and all of the almost one thousand suits they carried were the variable fighters that had proven so useful against the larger Confederacy mobile suits so far.
All they needed was to win some space for the fleet carriers to emerge and sheer numbers could carry the day.
But in victory or defeat, this battle could not but cost them. Primed for the arrival, it took less than a second for the weapon buoys to open fire. Four seconds later they were gone, the cheap beam weapons destroying themselves as they each fired only one shot. Defense plan Alpha-Delta Seven dealt with just such a rapid transit and in accordance with its directives a quarter of the buoys had targetted each of the first four ships to transit. Assault Carriers were tough ships... but not that tough.
As the First Battle of Alpha Iayuvi reached it's sixth second, thousands of Enforcer personnel died in the silvery balls of plasma fire that had been their ships. But the ships had jumped with their catapults primed for rapid launch and more than a third of their suits had already been away before death arrived. So too, the survivors of the first wave were launching rapidly, and a sprinkling of red lights fanned out from the jump point in Rau's holodisplay. Rather too many for his liking were headed for the nearer of the two fortresses, Boaz.
For a moment, the young Admiral hesitated, pondering amendments to his plans. But there was little time and he dared not add confusion to the concern amongst his crews. The odds had been cut and less than six hundred variable fighters threatened his two hundred and fifty mobile suits and the ships that supported them. The Assault Carriers, he ignored. There would be no more transits into the system until the Enforcers knew that nothing was in place to threaten their precious fleet carriers. Assault Carriers, for all their expense, were designed to be expended breaking through warp points. Fleet Carriers were not.
No, until one of those Assault Carriers returned to call in a second wave, the battle was down only to them.
The deck beneath him shuddered as the Confederate's engines fired and it led the ranked squadrons of cruisers deeper towards the jump point and away from Boaz. The two bases were on their own - only by pushing close enough to underline the threat he posed, could he force the Enforcers to break off. And the only way to do that was to survive the hundreds of variable fighters threatening to engluf his command in entirety.
The lights of beam cannon began to stab across the blackness of space.
.oOo.
On Jachin Due, there had been little time for the new arrivals to grow acquainted with their comrades. Exhausted by the running battle in the Zjevlovecoe system, they desperately needed to sleep before the invaders arrived and all three were asleep when sirens and red lamps banished any hope of further rest.
"They're attacking?" Nicol Amalfi exclaimed in surprise from the desk at the side of the small barracks that housed the five pilots of Team Violet. He was a slender, green-haired youth, almost fragile in appearance. "But they don't have surprise."
"Perhaps they were counting on us thinking they wouldn't without that," the slightly older boy brooding by the window muttered, lifting the helmet that lay beside him. Athrun Zala had his father's coloring, but it remained to be seen if he would grow into the same powerful build.
The only one of them not already in a flightsuit was Mu, who skinned into his with ruthless speed, barely flinching even at the sanitary fittings. "Perhaps you should be getting to your suits?" he suggested gently and the four pilots jumped to obey, Yzak Joule smirking at the perceived rebuke to Athrun.
Mu shook his head as he followed them out of the room, sealing up his flightsuit as he walked. Was I ever that bad? he asked himself. The sad thing was that he probably had been, back when he was a teenager. It had taken several hard knocks for him to get over the after-effects of adolesence and he suspected that these youngsters were about to have just such a collision with reality in the form of a murthering great battle.
In the docks, the mobile suits of Team Blue were already vanishing into the catapults. On the far side of the cavern from the entrance passage, the catapults were set to launch five suits at once, allowing the docks to empty in rapid succession. Commander Noin's Team Red were moving to launch the moment the catapults were clear and Mu could see Miguel Aiman's suit leaving the gantry to join the rest of Team Gold.
The techs had worked wonders in the little time that they had had, Mu noted as he moved quickly along the gantrys to his own GINN. There was still sign of damage, but all the necessary systems were operational and if the paint was lacking in a few places, at least the violet trim had been reapplied.
"Right then, boys," he ordered. "Get your crates moving and in line for the catapults. And make sure you're at one hundred percent ready status before you get on the catapult. Once you're on it there's no time for you to back off and get a spare ammo pack or the like. Check in."
"Yzak Joule, ready," snapped the teenager.
"Elsmann ready," his buddy added, his suit carrying the Team's heavy beam cannon.
"Athrun Zala, ready."
"Nicol Amalfi, ready."
"Mu La Flaga," the blond finished. "Flight Control, Violet Leader. My Team is ready to launch."
There was a crackle on the radio and then an unfamiliar voice replied: "Okay, Violet Leader. You are clear to launch after Team Green."
That left Team Orange last in line, Mu noted as only one of the suits from that team was out of the maintenance racks. From the look of the blackened armor, it was Heine Westenfluss who was waiting for the rest of his squad and he didn't envy the boy having to deal with a lieutenant who had let her squad get that slack.
Team Green vanished as the catapult hurled them out into space and Team Gold stepped into their places. Mu let the boys take up their positions behind the yellow-trimmed GINNs (calling them Team Yellow would have been... indiplomatic, so standard nomeclature was Gold instead and a few Militias even paid for gold paint) and then filled the open slot himself, noting that it left him right behind Miguel. The new arm was noticiably better polished that the original that still held the heavy beam weapon that Miguel favored.
Then Team Gold diminished rapidly into the distance and it was time from Team Violet to step up.
As a child, Mu had never liked roller-coasters. As a pilot, he did not enjoy catapult launches. The flood of adrenaline as he was suddenly accelerated to high velocities took away all control of his suit for the seconds before leaving the catapult and he rationalised that it was the inability to maneuver that rubbed him the wrong way, although it was probably more the way that it made him feel like he was going to throw up. This time was no better than it ever was, but it was over quickly and the five mobile suits soared away from Jachin Due into space that was brightly lit by fiery explosions and the brilliant beams of energy that were causing some of the former.
"Holy shit," Dearka Elsmann muttered under his breath.
"Keep it together, kid," Mu ordered automatically. "Form up on me, some of those fighters are headed our way." The four young pilots moved their suits around into a textbook formation and started to actually put their training to use figuring out what was going on rather than just looking at the pretty lights.
"Violet Leader, Red Leader," Noin ordered over the radio. We have sixty, six-zero, incoming VFs. We're going out to meet them. You'll be backing my team, Orange backs Gold and the others get to play reserve."
"Will comply," Mu replied and vectored towards Noin's flight path, the rest of his team following like dutiful ducklings behind their mother. He switched his radio back to the Team channel. "Okay, I don't know what the academy tells you about Variable Fighters, so here's the straight dope. They're smaller, and more agile, than our suits and fighter-mode they're a lot faster. As suits they're slower and they haven't upgraded to proper beam weapons yet, just small point defense lasers on the heads. Their cannon can hurt our suits if they get a good hit in, but they aren't up to a one-shot-kill. Their missiles can kill you right out, but they're mostly for anti-ship and base work. It takes a damn good pilot to get the best out of them but they don't have any more of those than we do right now. Don't try to tail them, just take what shots you can and try not to let them get behind you - explosive shells can fuck your thrusters up and then you're a sitting duck."
He frowned in thought. "And Dearka, watch where your shooting - your beam cannon will shoot right through one of them so try not to frag a friendly suit behind one of them: it may sound far-fetched but I've seen it happen before."
"Right..." Dearka drawled, disbelievingly, but there was no time for further advice as the incoming variable fighters began to fire off volleys of missiles from below their wings, targeting the approaching mobile suits rather than the still distant fortress. Noin's squadron didn't break formation, instead shouldering their beam rifles and opening fire on the incoming targets. A moment later, the missiles were close enough for Mu to pick one off and his Team followed his example, green beams reaching out to explode the missiles before they reached Team Red.
Dearka cursed as he found that his heavy beam cannon was relatively little use for this precision work. "Save it," Mu snapped. "You've got almost enough range to hit the fighters, so deal with them!"
The younger blond's eyes widened and then he brought the cannon up and the green beam reached out and blew straight through one of the fighters. He really was a decent shot, Mu noted and then frowned as the Enforcers evened the score, a missile detonating close enough to one of Noin's pilots to cave in the side of her suit, sending shrapnel through the cockpit.
There was no time to grieve as the rest of Team Red plunged into the variable fighters and a vicious dogfight halted the advance. Team Gold entered the mix a moment later and suits on both sides began to die. The variable fighters had taken suit mode to deal with their opponents at close quarters and it became increasingly difficult for the still approaching Orange and Violet teams to pick out targets as they reached beam rifle range. Dearka was surprised to find that he actually had to break off one shot as a GINN flew across the path that his beam would have taken. He could see suddenly just how easy it would be for his beam cannon to accidentally hit one of his own side, and became far more cautious with placing his shots.
For their parts, Nicol and Athrun stayed close together, low voiced comments concentrating their shots upon the same targets. It was a good technique and they were hitting almost as often as Mu, which was more than could be said for Yzak, whose wild shooting was well nigh as much of a threat as Dearka's potent beam cannon to the Militia's mobile suits. It was with some relief that they came into close quarters and Yzak was able to stow his rifle, taking out his sword to beat back the variable fighters as they tried to swarm over Dearka. The lure of destroying one of the weapons that could seriously threaten a carrier was enough to bring them closer to the defending GINN than they would have allowed normally and Yzak snarled triumphantly as he stabbed the short blade into the lower chest of one fighter, crippling it. Then his other hand closed around the head of the much smaller suit and crushed it easily before discarding the suit for Dearka to finish with a quick shot from his cannon.
.oOo.
Several thousand miles away, Rau le Creuset was also facing a wave of Enforcers. Together with the sixty or so variable suits attacking Jachin Due, the Enforcers had detached about eighty suits to attack Boaz - a interesting number since the standard organisation for Enforcer mobile suit forces was to group five squadrons of twelve fighters into a single wing, such as that attacking Jachin Due. The reinforced wing attacking Boaz might simply be an intelligence miscue: although Boaz was larger than the other asteroid, it had a smaller force of mobile suits. If they expected a larger force, then reinforcing their attack group would be wise. But it could also indicate that specialist squadrons were attached to the wing for some nefarious purpose.
Nefariousness was a trait that Rau was more than willing to ascribe to the Unity Government. After all, they saw themselves as the successors of the Alliance, and in it's day, there had been few depths that that long deceased polity had been unwilling to sink to in order to maintain their personal power.
However, there was little he could do for either fortress at the moment. The detachment of a hundred and forty variable fighters still left him with well over three hundred fighters descending upon his fleet and there was no choice but to break through them if he was to retake the jump point. Fortunately, the numbers favored him more than anywhere else in the battle - between the one hundred and eight mobile suits aboard the Enterprise, the twenty aboard the Confederate, and the complements of the twelve remaining Musai-class ships, he was outnumbered less than two to one, and while the variable fighters might have the potential to be a match for the GINN, neither their tactics nor their technology had reached that point yet. That and twenty-odd warships should be enough to carry the day.
The volleys of missiles from the incoming variable fighters had been launched from closer than usual, and there had been more of them - a mid-range missile that hadn't been encountered before, but the GINN's had at least some practise in dealing with such a threat and most of the missiles had been destroyed before they could reach engagement ranges. Perhaps inevitably, however, some were missed. Not one had hit the Confederate, but there had been minor hits against the Ventrue, Gangrel and Setite, and a lucky hit to the starboard missile bay of the heavy cruiser Maldon Bridge, had not only taken out the missile by but triggered a sympathetic explosion in the magazines, temporarily disabling the ship's forward beam turret.
Now the fighters switched to suit mode and penetrated the formations, with mobile suits in hot pursuit. Point defense was a chancy affair, as likely to hit a friendly suit as a it was one of the enemy, but GINN's could take such a hit better than the variable fighters could and the attackers were firing back with autocannon little diffierent from the Militias point defense, while the GINN's beam rifles would destroy or cripple an enemy suit with almost every hit.
A number of the Enforcer pilots had been carrying loads of short range missiles and held them back for use at point-blank range and fire spread through the fleet. Not all of them had made it this far and the GINNs had paid especial attention to the handful of fighters still carrying missiles, but more than half ripple-fired heavy loads of the small missiles at ranges too short for any meaningful evasion. Virtually all of them died instants later, as vengeful GINN's lashed out, but the damage was done.
The Azincour and the Malkavian simply exploded and the luckless Maldon Bridge[/i] drifted out of formation, engines in ruins. The Assamite pulled back to take the heavy cruiser in tow, for without its turreted beam cannon it would be of little value in a stand-up fight. The Confederate had taken the brunt of no less than three such attacks and staggered out of the crossfire trailing fire and with four turrets out of action, but the others were still spitting fire and they only needed to go a little further before the two surviving assault carriers would be in range.
From one side of Rau's bridge there was a cry of dismay and he jerked around to see the Communications Officer on his feet, looking over at the Radar Officer. "Enterprise just dropped off the net," he reported.
"She's still there," Radar responded. "Brining up a visual."
The shot from an aft-pointed camera sprang up on a side-screen and the computers magnified and cleaned up the feed until they could see the Enterprise clearly. The large ship was indeed intact, and its guns were still firing, but there was only fire where the conning tower should have been.
It was the Flight Control Officer who explained the mystery. "Kamikaze!" he reported. "One of our GINNs saw a variable fighter fly right into the Enterprise's bridge. It must have killed everyone up there instantly, and taken out the radios as well."
"Dammit," Rau growled, watching as the officers all reflexively checked the windows of their own bridge. "See if you can make contact with their Combat Information Centre," he ordered the Communications Officer. Even if the main radio is out, they should have a back-up online soon."
"We're in range of the Carriers!" the Gunnery Officer reported.
Rau nodded. "Switch fire to them immediately," he ordered.
Outside, the large turrets turned slightly, bringing the powerful sixteen-inch beam cannon to bear on the targets in front of them. Behind them, the greater range of the eighteen-inch beam cannon on the Enterprise had come into range at almost the same moment and one Assault Carrier staggered under the barrage, tough armour deforming under the beams.
There was a sudden actinic flash from one side and Rau grimaced. From that direction, the source could only be Boaz, and it didn't take a genius to realise that the light was too bright to have been caused by mere plasma warheads. "Warning to all ships," he said in the silence. "Also to Jachin Due for relay to planetary bases. UG Enforcers have employed battlefield anitmatter weapons."
.oOo.
The flash of light was also visible from Jachin Due and similar conclusions were being drawn, although except in the asteroid's command centre, there was little time to spare.
"Are they likely to use those here?" the Commander serving as executive officer asked warily.
Commodore Noventa shook his head. "If they haven't yet, then it's not likely," he said solidly from his chair in the centre of the compartment, not taking his eyes off the holo-display that was trying to keep up with the dogfight that was moving steadily towards the base. Commander Noin had had to call in her two reserve teams of mobile suits already and the Confederacy suits were down to little more than half-strength even so. The Enforcers had lost more than twenty fighters, however, and given time the GINNs might have been able to wear them down.
By that time, however, the fight would be taking place inside Jachin Due and that was just a little closer than Noventa was willing to allow them.
"Signal Commander Noins," he ordered. "We're going to join in the fun. Ready all missile launchers for maximum fire in thirty seconds."
Outside, in response to his signals, the scattered Confederacy mobile suits regrouped and it was not at all coincidental that the locations that they formed up upon left an open route for the variable fighters to use to close on Jachin Due. The Enforcers were quick to exploit the gap and the remains of two squadrons shifted to fighter mode and punched through, trying to engage the asteroid at pointblank range.
Across Jachin Due, hatches sprang open and to the dismay of the Enforcers, magnetic catapults began to fling missiles at them, rockets flaring to life once the missiles cleared their launch tubes. Noventa's gunners called for a staggered drive activation, so the first volley was barely a head of the next two as they slashed into the variable fighters, engulfing them in plasma fireballs.
In fighter mode, the variable fighters were not agile enough to evade the targeting systems of the missiles, but the handful that switched to mobile suit mode discovered that they were too slow to get out of the killzone before the blasts tore through them. It was Catch-22 with a vengeance, and by the time Jachin Due ceased firing, it's small magazines reduced to only half their previous state, not one of the variable fighters that had pushed through survived.
The remaining fighters, now only equal in number to their opponents, found themselves fighting not to destroy the enemy but to stay alive. Then Noventa played his trump card and the Tzimisce swept majestically out from behind the asteroid-fortress it had been hidden by, its two beam cannon raking at the Enforcers.
Within moments, the variable fighters were fleeing, their fighter modes faster than anything that the GINNs could manage.
"Good job, Commander Noins," Noventa broadcast. "Get your suits back inside. Commander Gladys and the Tzimisce will pick up anyone who can't move under their own power. We've got just enough time to rearm you, if they decide to send in a second wave."
Shaking his head, Mu took stock of the survivors. His own team was doing well enough - Nicol's suit was going to need pick up, judging by the damage to his thrusters, and Dearka's machine was, quite literally, headless. The teen had also wrecked his beam cannon, driving the muzzle into the back of one variable fighter and rapid firing it through the briefly surprised Enforcer and into a second fighter behind it, but he was mobile and the other two were both more or less intact.
Other Teams had not done so well. Not by far. Heine Westenfluss had made it through, but he was commanding only four suits, an amalgamation of Team Orange and Team Gold that did not include poor Miguel, who'd been shot to pieces somewhere. Team Green was just gone, and Team Red, having been reduced to two suits during the dogfight, was flying beside Team Blue, which had oddly enough managed to survive with all five suits still in apparently mint condition - quite a surprise for a bunch of rookies, but he had to give them credit. For all their lack of experience, most of the novice pilots had done as well as more experienced soldiers could have been expected to.
"Nicol, signal the Tzimisce for pick up," he ordered. "Same for you Dearka."
"I can still fly," protested Dearka.
"I know that, kid, but without the sensors in your head, your fine manuevering is going to be iffy and we don't need you demolishing the docks when you land. Just take it easy. You've all done well."
"Well!?" Yzak protested. "We got beat on like drums. Look at Team Blue - not even a scratch on their damn paintwork."
"At least we're all alive," Nicol pointed out softly and all eyes went to the trail of broken suits that trailed out behind them."
"Nicol's right," Athrun said firmly. "And next time we'll do better. But for now we should get aboard. We'll need to get ready for a second wave. Without Boaz, we'll be more of a target for them."
.oOo.
There was no second wave however, and no sooner had the few score variable fighters to survive and lifeboats from the more damaged of the two Assault Carriers been taken aboard the less damaged of the pair, than the Daedalus-class vanished with the distinctive haloing effect of a jump. It's sistership blew up almost immediately in a ball of antimatter that made it perfectly clear that that there had been a reserve of antimatter weapons aboard.
That was ample reason for their decision not to scuttle the ship by the conventional means before leaving of course. A plasma reactor (or several reactors, no one in the Confederacy had gotten a good look at the insides of the UG's new carriers yet) would quite neatly remove a ship from existence if certain safeties were overridden. But antimatter was another matter entirely - the warheads would inevitably be triggered by such an explosion (probably the trigger mechanism in this case) - the blast had scoured the jumpoint clean of not only the carrier, but of all four of its broken sister ships as well, and would have destroyed the only surviving ship as well if it hadn't jumped first.
It also meant that Rau would be wary about sending any ships into or through the jump point until it had had a day or two to settle. Antimatter detonations did funny things to jump points sometimes, and using a jump engine in a jump point unsettled in that way was... well perhaps not fatal. The ships that had tried might have ended somewhere intact. But none had ever been heard from again. The use of antimatter weapons against a jump point was, of course, something that Confederacy absolutely prohibited. For that matter, although a reserve of antimatter warheads was maintained, the Militias hadn't fired one in anger since the last Alliance stronghold was defeated in the Lesser Etiyoke Cluster, over a hundred and ninety years before.
The Unity Government evidently felt differently.
Not that Rau would have attempted a pursuit anyway. It was a given that a second wave of Assault Carriers could be about to emerge, since the jump point in Zjevlovecoe wouldn't have been affected, and that there would definitely be a sizeable force of ships that would have followed up the attack had it been successful in critically damaging the defenses.
And those defenses were looking just a little on the threadbare side at the moment. Over a hundred and fifty mobile suits had been destroyed, as had seven cruisers. Several more, as well as the Enterprise, were limping towards Jachin Due for emergency repairs to get them back to the orbital dockyards over Alpha VIII. The military bases on the moons of the gas giant had been built by the Alliance's Terran Union predecessors and had been home away from home for the Militias of Alpha Iayuvi's three inhabited worlds and seven shoals of orbital habitats since the Confederacy liberated the system from the Alliance. They were also on the far side of the system at this point in their orbits and at least a week's travel for an undamaged warship.
The idea of launching a counterattack with one battleship and several cruisers, all of them still damaged to one extent or another did not fill Rau with glee, but he supposed that for all that his opposite number in the Zjevlovecoe system couldn't be sure that there wasn't a heavy battlegroup on the way out from the system's planets, quite capable of doing so. A useful illusion, he decided.
It was only a pity, he mused, that La Flaga's damnable luck had held out. The Unity Government Enforcers had been stopped cold and it would have been nice to cement that particular victory by getting rid of that particular irritant. A little public display of grief might have been in order, and then drinking ostenisbly to his elder half-brother's memory and actually in celebration that the only legitimate offspring of Aldo La Flaga had departed the universe.
As it was, that individual had not only survived, he had led the sons of several prominent politicans into battle and somehow managed not to get any of them killed. Failing in that would at the least of been a black eye for the La Flagas, politically. Instead, it would bolster their position and while the younger La Flaga seemed genuinely unconcerned by the influences that shaped the Confederacy, his father would not be so naive.
But it was not and never had been an ideal universe, Rau reminded himself. He had cemented his own reputation with this battle and it would be... obsessive, dangerously so, to let his dislike of his blood father overwhelm the practicalities of the moment. With that settled for the moment, he turned his attention to taking account of the casualties and of rescue operations for lifeboats and ejected pilots who might be endangered by the usual detritius of battle. On another level, he started mentally composing the many reports that he would be required to make on the battle.
BuShips really needed to do something about those damned conning towers, for one thing. And there ought to be some way to deal with the explosive shells of variable fighter cannon. Admittedly, a mobile suit couldn't be armoured everywhere if they were expected to move, but there should be something. He made a note to check reference texts on body armour design - the same problem had probably existed back on Terra back when the deadliest projectile was the arrow so there might be some useful ideas there.
.oOo..oOo. .oOo.

Major Roy Fokker watched as the halos of energy that surrounded the transport faded to reveal a subtly different star field. The halo had been even more intense than usual, which he guessed was probably because of the additional energy that was necessary to make a jump through a Class-III jump point.
The initial theory of jump points had been laid out by physicists in the late twenty-first century, although the basic concept had been looked at hopefully for at least a century before then. It had not been until the twenty-third century that the first human jump transit had been made by the International Science Vessel Discovery. Fifty years later, when the body of knowledge involving jump points had grown exponentially, the possibility of Class-II jump points had been raised: even harder to detect or use, but perhaps leading out of the closed network of the Iayuvi Cluster's star systems.
The collapse of the New United Nations delayed the solution of these problems for decades as the colonies were forced back upon their own resources until Terra managed to put it's affairs in order and re-establish interstellar trade. In that span, the old first-generation jumpships, little more than jumpdrives to which between two and nine sublight transports could connect for the journey through a jump point, were replaced by second-generation jumpships that could economically haul cargos from orbit of one world out to a jump point, make transit and then reach another world.
But the new government was not entirely welcome on the colonies, having had two generations to get used to home rule, so when Adrienne Bashir managed to locate and transit through a Class-II jump point from Delta Iayuvi into the Emyoje Cluster, she triggered a rapid surge of migration away from the control of the Terran Union and it's genetically augmented ruling caste, the Coordinators. When the Union followed, the Independent Governments resisted, at first with no great success. Only in the mid-twenty-sixth century would the Etiyoke cluster governments create the Alliance that would break the back of the Terran Union and exterminate the pureblooded Coordinators, banning the biological research that had led to them.
But only a iconclastic few in the physics community had theorised what Roy had just experienced: Class-III jump points leading out of the Forty-Two Worlds. In the closing days of the Alliance, when the upstart Confederacy had shattered the hardwon peace enforced after the defeat of the Terran Union, the Hawking Flotilla had left the Uvbeyou system with the seeds of a new colony, a military cadre and the entire faculty of the Alliance Insitute of Applied Sciences, jumping blindly through the only Class-III jump point they had been able to locate with their preliminary research - research of which they carried every trace with them.
And for two hundred years they had hidden here, in New Etiyoke, preparing for the day of the return when they would reestablish the Alliance once more. It was truly ironic that the colony had included so many with partial descent from the Coordinators (whose diluted advantages had still allowed future generations to rise to great heights) that today almost everyone in the orbital colonies that clustered around Osiris could claim at least some of that blood.
It was on Osiris, where painfully slow terraforming was still proceeding, that the Unity Government's Enforcers had their ultimate headquarters, despite the establishment of the Senate in Alpha Etiyoke. And it was there that Colonel Bruno Gloval and Major Roy Fokker had been summoned, as the senior survivors of the debacle at Alpha Iayuvi.
Gloval, a tall man with a thick black mustache, was looking out of the same window - no great surprise as it was the only one in the observation lounge. It must have been a body blow for the man to be taken away from his command when it needed to be refitted and prepared for new use, the Icarus had been an almost new ship and a prestigious assignment. Now, because of orders he had protested fruitlessly, he was likely to see his career go down in flames.
A similar fate might await Roy of course, but he was more junior, merely the commander of a wing of variable fighters. Of course, that wing was little more than two squadrons now, so there was likely to be some official disfavor for that, but there was little chance that he would be sidelined. Experienced pilots were in short supply for variable fighters. Those who lived long enough to make full use of the Phoenix were able to work miracles when employed correctly - which they had not been at Alpha Iayuvi.
"Have you ever been to Osiris before, sir?" he asked.
Gloval shook his head solemnly. "No, Major," he replied. "I was assigned to the Ezoe front until I was recalled to take command of the Icarus. But you were one of the first from the old Militias to transfer to a variable fighter - you must trained here?"
"Yes sir. The newer flight schools were still being set up so I came here to learn. It's an interesting planet but I don't believe that you'll have a chance to see it up close. The military command centre occupies one of the colony cylinders and movement is restricted. I doubt there's much of a nightlife up there either."
"Well, I suppose that we may have more important things on our minds than the night life, very soon," Gloval said and, apparently bored with the conversation, turned away from the window, taking out his pipe. Then he spotted a no smoking sign and put the pipe back inside his jacket. Honestly, you'd think that the New Etiyokeans were afraid of catching some disease off of a little tobacco, he thought in disgust.
.oOo.
The chamber being used for the tribunal was silent for a long moment after the last testimony had been taken. Located under one of the 'secure administration' buildings in the Horus VII orbital habitat (meaning that it was an outwardly normal office building that a mobile suit would have been hard pressed to damage, set in a parkland setting that a carrier task group would have a hard time threatening), the room was, as custom dictated, darkened. A single spotlight pinpointed the ordinary looking office chair welded to the floor only a metre and a half away from the door, but the officers sat behind the U-shaped table on the podium that the chair faced, were lit only by the muted glow of their workstation displays.
"Troubling," said one officer from one of the bends in the U.
When it became clear that he did not propose to clarify the word, a woman halfway down the other arm cleared her throat. "In what sense do you mean, tribune?" By tradition, all officers on a tribunal were refered to as such, rather than by rank, as they all carried equal authoruty and responsibility for the tribunal's findings. In practise, everyone knew who out-ranked who and the seating order reflected this, with the senior officer at the base of the U and the most junior at the far ends.
"It means that that idiot Hayes has cost us thousands of Enforcers, hundreds of variable fighters and five of our newest carriers," grunted a man sat right beside the central chair.
"And we appointed him," said the first man cuttingly. Eyes widened around the table.
"He has previously showed considerable ability," offered the woman. "And it is important that the upper commands not be held exclusively by our people. The cluster is happy to unite with our leadership, but not if they perceive themselves as being under our rule. Opening command slots to officers drawn from the Militias is necessary."
"Hayes is ambitious," offered another officer. "If he loses his rank over this, he'll muddy the waters. Say it's predjudice against an outsider, or that we're not being aggressive enough. Anything to keep his name clean."
"Someone needs to pay for this cock-up?" the first man asked. "Tribunals are not witch hunts. Just because we could have someone courtmartialed, does not mean that we have to. We were defeated. It happens. We cannot expect otherwise. What is important is that we learn the lessons of the defeat and do not repeat the mistakes that were made."
There was another silence, before the woman in the central seat spoke, her voice sure and authoritive. "Marshal Hayes cannot be entrusted with another field command. Offer him assignment to a anministrative post. The Fortress Command in the Pedeoo system will require an officer of his grade. Responsibility for one of the few routes into the Cluster, but one behind the frontlines. Other outsiders will be promoted as we continue to expand the Enforcers, reducing the disparity."
There were nods around the room.
"As for the lessons learned, we should bring Colonel Gloval and Major Fokker... Brigadier Gloval and Lieutenant Colonel Fokker, I should say, after their heroics at Alpha Iayuvi..."
More nods. Publically promoting outsider officers involved would make it clear to the officer corps that there would be no scapegoats and mitigate the effects of sidelining Hayes.
"And discuss with them what changes must be made to prevent further such debacles."
Within moments, the two officers had returned. Since there was only one chair, neither sat in it.
"Gentlemen," the woman in the central seat began, "It has become clear during this tribunal that we need to review our fleet's tactical balance. As the most recent officers to operate against the Confederacy militias, your opinions are hereby solicited. Mr. Fokker, pre-war exercises indicated that variable fighters would have a critical advantage against mobile suits whereas since the initial surprise wore off, they have actually required a significant edge in numbers to defeat them. Your thoughts?"
Roy straightened. "Ma'am, the variable fighters now employed are not those simulated in the pre-war exercises. The proposed variable fighter was to operate with an onboard plasma fusion reactor and carry a weapon load equivalent to that of a current model GINN. However, the variable fighters placed in production are operating on high-density power cells which limits their operational range and cannot power a full-scale beam rifle for more than a few shots. As a result, the fighters are using automatic cannon that are significantly less likely to destroy a target and do not have the endurance to keep fighting long enough to keep hitting the targets."
"The compromise was necessary in order to maintain our operational pace," another of the tribunes observed. "However, if the Pheonix cannot perform then perhaps it should be withdrawn until a fully operational variable fighter is available."
"They still give us a mobility advantage," the man next to him objected.
"With respect," Roy said. "We've also been slow to evolve doctrine for variable fighter operations. That's improving, but so are the Militias tactics to deal with us, and they've been making up ground rapidly. The longer they have to work out how to deal with us effectively, the less effective a new Variable Fighter will be."
"And they will have new suits of their own," added the tribune who had proposed withdrawing the Phoenix fighters. "Intelligence makes it clear that research is underway to build a new generation of their mobile suits, better equipped for anti-variable fighter operations. They may also have variable fighters of their own before long."
"Then we'll need to do something about that," Gloval said boldly. "Our carriers are excellent for carrying variable fighters and the lightweight mobile suits developed here, but they do not have the anti-shipping capability of the Militias warships. Unless we can improve our ability to take them on ship to ship, or regain our edge in mobile weapons, then we will not be able to maintain the offensive."
There was an outraged silence. Those before a tribunal were not expected to speak unless addressed.
The woman at the centre of the table nodded her head. "That is a concern," she agreed firmly. "And it must not be allowed to come to that. How do you propose that the matter be settled, Brigadier Gloval?"
Gloval blinked. "Brigadier?" he asked.
"That is one conclusion that the Tribunal has drawn," she replied.
"Ah," Gloval grunted. "Well, our assault through the jumppoint failed for two reasons. Firstly, we were too tentative. As soon as the assault carriers had launched their fighters, they should have left and a new wave come through. Cruisers and battleships to take the Militias ships with heavy weapons. We still have many captured from the Militas and we can't afford to waste them on patrols or second-line duties - we have to use them to bolster attacks. And we need to build more of them. The antimatter missiles worked, so they'll be warier of our fighters now - if we have a better fighter, we can use if against their mobile suits but we need dedicated anti-shipping fighters as well, ones that can carry the firepower to take down a warship not just peck at it the way that we have been doing."
"Do you concur with this, Lieutenant-Colonel?"
It took a moment for Roy to realise that the statement was being directed at him. "Yes ma'am. I've seen the specifications for the original variable fighters and they'll make a huge difference. The Phoenix is a good concept but the Valkyries would eat them for breakfast. Combine that with capital ships that can meet them head on and their current fleet can't stop us. We'd still have to consider what they might pull out of their hats, but we could handle everything they've shown us so far."
"Very well. If there are no further questions...?"
The other tribunes shook their heads one at a time.
"Thank you for your comments, Brigadier, Colonel. I believe that quarters have been arranged for you on the station and you can expect to receive instructions in the next forty-eight hours about your next postings."
.oOo.
"Brigadier Gloval?"
At the chessboard in the recreation room of the Bachelor Officers Quarters block he'd been assigned a small apartment in, Gloval looked up from the move he'd been about to make. By relative casualties he was losing, but he knew that the trap he'd been patiently laying was only a few moves away from snapping closed around his opponent's king. "Yes?" he asked, a slight bite in his voice.
The young woman standing at the door was only in her early twenties, but the cuffs of her white uniform jacket bore three gold rings, marking her as a Lieutenant-Colonel. She looked a little taken aback by the response, but not too much - white jackets marked officers acting as staff, be it the general staff here at the high command, or directly assisting a flag officer in the field, so she could hardly be unaccustomed to dealing with short-tempered senior officers.
"Brigadier, I'm Colonel Hayes," she told him. "I have your new orders."
The document that she held out was parchment, folded twice and sealed with red wax. It was an old tradition, one inherited from the Confederacy's Militias rather than the old Alliance Fleet, to relay certain orders on parchment. Green wax to confer a medal, black wax for a warrant of courtmartial... and red to assign the command of a ship. He could not help but to feel a surge of exceitement at the sight, although there was also a degree of surprise. Command of a ship was usually the responsibility of a Colonel or Lieutenant-Colonel, occasionally a Major if the ship was not a combatant, but almost never a Brigadier.
Taking the orders, he cracked the wax, sealed with the age old badge of Etiyoke: a dragon, a phoenix and a tiger, and unfolded the parchment. "Thank you, Colonel," he said absently, examining the orders and then paused, reading them more carefully. "Hmmm. I see that I shall be taking command from Colonel Lisa Hayes. Is this you?"
"Yes sir," she replied. "I've been overseeing the construction."
"Hmmm," he said again. "Have you indeed? In that case, Colonel, perhaps you could show me my new ship. I rather gather," he added, folding the parchment and tucking it inside his jacket. Unlike Lisa's his was the blue of a ship's crew. "That she will be a new experience for me."
Lisa smiled, more naturally. "Yes sir," she said. "I rather anticipated that you would want that."
"Good," Gloval said approvingly. "My apologies, Mr. Havel," he added to the Major who had been facing him across the chessboard. "I will have to finish beating you at chess another time."
The younger man raised one eyebrow at the comment, given the number of pieces taken, but didn't directly address the assertion. "Not a problem, Brigadier Gloval. And congratulations on your new command."
.oOo.
True to Lisa's words, there was a car waiting outside the building, to whisk them to the port, and a shuttle had been reserved for him. He had to wonder if this sort of treatment was standard at Horus, or whether it was something that he could expect now that he was a flag officer.
"There will be a short delay before we depart, sir," Lisa said apologeticallty. "The commander of our fighter group has also been named today, and he'll be joining us on the shuttle."
Somehow, Gloval wasn't surprised when Roy Fokker stepped out of the car that arrived a moment later. His guide was a blonde major with a coffee-coloured complexion - one of those odd combinations that made it very clear that she had Coordinator ancestry. Like Roy, she had the green jacket that marked a member of the mobile suit/variable fighter corps, but without the pilot's wings.
"Good Afternoon, Roy," Gloval said in greeting. "It would seem that we are both being assigned to the same ship once more."
"I suppose that they don't want to break up a winning combination, sir," Roy agreed. "Although I have to wonder what this ship's going to be - I didn't even know that there was a carrier called Alliance."
Gloval's eyes twinkled and both women hid grins. "Well, perhaps we should see for ourselves," the Brigadier suggested drily, and gestured for the women to lead the way to the shuttle.
.oOo.
The military docks that they set out for were orbitting almost half-a-million miles away from the high command's station and the inital clusters were crowded with factories for sub-assemblies. But as the shuttle threaded through the network they came across more and more docks where partly-built ships were surrounded by construction frameworks.
Most were Daedalus-class assault carriers and Prometheus-class fleet carriers, but there were others as well: small, blocky ships that Colonel Hayes identified as Birmingham-class escort carriers and round, clumsy looking ships that had been intended as missile cruisers but were now being modified before they had even been launched.
Right at the far end of the lines of ships lay a much larger framework. Rather than cutting between the structural members, Lisa guided the shuttle along the length towards the open mouth where the construction gantries had been removed so that the ship would be able to leave. When she rounded the final barriers to view, Roy gaped shamelessly and even Gloval was speechless.
The ship was huge - twelve hundred meteres long and almost four hundred wide, with a long flat deck leading back to massive engine blocks at the rear. A command structure reared up from the hull and long barrelled weapons jutted forward from turrets either side. "The first Alliance-class monitor," Lisa said reverently. "More than twice as large and ten times as powerful as any battleship in the history of the Forty-Two Worlds. She carries more than five hundred mobile suits and variable fighters, with primary armament of four railguns, eight eleven-inch beam cannon and a spinal antimatter beam cannon."
"Antimatter beam?" Gloval asked, incredulously. "A directed antimatter weapon!? Impossible!"
"Not at all," Lisa said confidently. "It's not something to use lightly, of course, but it's capable of devestating tight formations of vessels -"
"And if the ships move apart then they can't support each other against our fighters," exclaimed Roy. "Even the threat we could use it would weaken their defenses!"
Claudia chuckled. "Such enthusiasm, fly boy. And you haven't even seen one of your precious fighters aboard."
Roy gave her a suspicious look and then grinned. "Is that your way of telling me what I think you're saying...?"
"Let's just say that we won't be carrying Phoenix's into harm's way," she said smugly. "Orders were amended just yesterday and we'll be getting the first production runs of Valkyries - six full wings and almost half as many mobile suits to back them up."D for Drakensis
Contagious, rampant insanity isnt against the rules.

D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

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  Team Eleven
Posted by: ECSNorway - 11-07-2006, 01:30 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (23)

So, I have no overall plot yet, but I do hope that Skyefire won't mind if I borrow the ANBU Section Nine idea... there are definite possibilities there. In the meantime, to get started:
----------------
Team Eleven
It was getting late.
That was the current opinion of Tenjou Utena, genin of Konohagakure no Sato. It was very, very, very late. To be specific, her team's Jounin-sensei, Weinu Borusa, was very, very, very late. She wasn't quite sure why that was... even Team Seven's Hatake Kakashi had been and gone, collecting his trainees and taking them off for - well, for whatever it was teams did when they were first formed. Introductions and initial briefings, she supposed.
Like Team Seven, Team Eleven would probably be combat-specialized. Utena herself was quite skilled with a sword, and had undergone extensive training to increase her speed and agility. Tendo Akane was a more straightforward fighter, her family's techniques more oriented towards standing in one spot and shattering anything that came at them. Makimachi Misao was more of a generalist, fighting with just about anything from bare hands to traps to the kunai and shuriken techniques she favored. She was nearly a match for Utena in speed, and quite possibly, Utena mused, almost as hyperactive as Team Seven's prankster extraordinaire, Uzumaki Naruto.
"I wish those three were still here," grumbled Akane. "I need someone to beat on." She'd been getting grumpier and grumpier as the hours passed, and only a bit of sparring with their fellow left-behinds had relieved her temper. (Not that she hadn't punted Naruto into the ceiling with a shout of "Pervert!" when he pulled off a twisting takedown that landed him on her chest... she'd always been a bit sensitive about that sort of thing. Left her rather poor marks in the kunoichi-only classes. Not to mention her horrible scores in cooking....)
"Ah, they're probably off getting beaten up by that masked lunatic," Misao chirped. "At least he bothered to show up. Where the flipping heck is Weinu-sensei?"
"If I knew that," Utena remarked, "I'd say we go get him. Maybe he's stuck in a meeting, he has to run his family's business as well as his own ninja work, you know."
This touched off a round of speculation among the three genin, raising and discarding all sorts of probable and improbable possibilities as to the Jounin's location, doings, and reason for absence from his duties. And a grumble from Akane about part-timers. Along the way, they took in Weinu-san's rumored romance with Kairu Selena-san, the possibility that a business rival had hired a shinobi to assassainate him, and the chance that his business agents had sent in some vital information that just had to get to ANBU right away, and he was deep in an emergency planning session with them and couldn't be bothered with something as trivial as a commitment to a genin training team.
"Or maybe," mused Akane, "He's been watching us under a genjutsu the whole time, snickering up his sleeve at how silly we're all being."
Utena considered it for a moment. "That... isn't impossible, Tendo-san, but it's been hours, and none of us have noticed anything. Not even Haruno-san did, and she was always the best with genjutsu in classes."
"Well, heck," Misao said, and formed a series of hand-seals. "Let's find out. Kai!" The room around them seemed to vibrate for a moment... and there was Weinu-san, sitting in the teacher's desk chair. "Hah! He WAS here!"
"Took you long enough to figure it out," the jounin said as he stood up and looked over the three of them. "You'll need to keep a better lookout than that if you want to get by in enemy territory. I could've taken down every word you said and gotten away without you ever noticing I was here... or killed every one of you, including the precious Uchiha, before you could even move."
At this point something seemed to have gotten through to Akane. "You've ... been here... watching us... the WHOLE TIME? You stood by and watched Uzumaki GROPE me? YOU PERVERT!" Exactly where she got the giant mallet from, Utena had no clue, it was apparently a Tendo clan special ninjutsu... and it either took Weinu-sensei completely by surprise, or had an element that rooted him to the spot while she brought it down on his head.
(End chapter one, segment one)--
"I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered...
R!
DOROTHY!
WAYNERIGHT!

--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.

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  Somebody missed a clock...
Posted by: robkelk - 11-06-2006, 06:07 PM - Forum: Forums - Replies (2)

I just noticed that ezBoard is claiming my posts are being made an hour after they actually are. (It's just past 9:00 as I post this, not just past 10:00.)
-Rob Kelk
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

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  Welcome to Aegis Sanctuary...
Posted by: Bob Schroeck - 11-06-2006, 05:22 PM - Forum: The Legendary - Replies (1)

...who I see has posted her first message over in the Players and Characters thread. Good to finally have you here, Aegis! And yeah, Evangelia is played by a guy. Hope that you didn't feel too betrayed.
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...

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  Finally...
Posted by: K sai - 11-06-2006, 04:37 AM - Forum: Introductions - Replies (5)

G'day from Queensland Australia
I've been lurking on here for over a year. Practically *ALL* my online reading material has been recommended from this board... but it took this long for me to figure out how to unearth my ancient EZY account.
I'm so glad I'll finally be able to contribute. This board is hands down the most intelligent, thoughtful and funny I've ever run across. I'm not worried about getting flooded out with uneducated insults every time one posts.
I tried my hand at writing a long time ago.Emmm... it didn't work out to well (it wasn't Fan Fic) and I eventually dropped it.
Here I think is a place where I might get use full advice on how to improve my abilities to tell a story!
Raphael

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  Caverns of Transcendance -- This time for real
Posted by: Bob Schroeck - 11-05-2006, 06:03 AM - Forum: The Legendary - Replies (77)

Okay, after Thursday's rout of the Circle of Thorns -- thanks to a couple people who were 8 or more levels higher than the opposition -- Sailor Null finally got the COT trial assignment. Although most if not all of the crew from Thursday have expressed their intent to join the fun, we will need 8 participants, as I'm sure everyone is aware. So this is an open call for next Thursday, 11/9, at 9 PM Eastern time. We'll welcome anyone who wants in.
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...

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