Gundam Fire Still

------. --- dividing line ---. ------.

Merry Christmas, gentlemen.

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14. Hal Barton and his G (top)

Levi . Brigadier General Halbarton placed the papers in his hands at the top of a tall stack of papers, and then was somewhat relieved to find himself in front of a desk with nothing left to write on, and for him, the job seemed to be over. The information terminal by the wall was constantly flashing with the latest news of all kinds, and as a general officer, his terminal was capable of receiving a fair amount of information - it had a much higher level of access than the one he had used for so long. Unfortunately he was well aware of his own inability to make proper use of them as well as his other associates. All he knew was that it seemed that Zaft had made another attack, but it had been held back, and as long as they didn't break through it was good news that the replacements from Earth would be arriving next week, and while he was well aware that he couldn't count too highly on their quality, at least the fleet barely had blood to flow after the Congress below had passed the order to recruit volunteer reservists. New ships and ammunition would be arriving soon enough, and even the Zaft, with their dominant orbit, couldn't completely cut off that line of transport, and their ships, even loaded with supplies and ammunition at maximum cruising times, couldn't cruise in Earth-Moon orbit for much longer. Veterans recovering and discharged from the hospital and newly commissioned recruits needed to be mixed and put on a newly launched, or just overhauled, ship for a period of acclimatization - the Combined Forces didn't have much time to do this, and there was a lot of pressure on the front lines, but if they didn't do that it would be straightforward to Assigning them to the front lines if, no, he couldn't do that, just for a short time. Halbarton pulled up the list of recruits and ships to be assigned to his crew from his terminal and wrote the acclimatization down on a memo - one of the few jobs he might be able to do proficiently in his new position.

It was much easier for him now, having once worked for more than 50 hours straight when the remnants of the World Tree had first arrived in Ptolemy.

He was still a colonel at the time, gray-haired and looking like he was going to end up in a Ptolemy base logistics idle; the Battle of the World Tree, considered by some to have changed the fate of the United Earth, and the Atlantic Federation, had indeed changed the fate of old Colonel Halbarton in no small way. An entire dockyard of wreckage, the crooked hull of a ship still smoldering with sparks, the twisted and deformed, the deck still hung with bodies and limbs, even the cruiser embedded with unexploded missile warheads; the damage control squads and medical teams of the entire Moonface Base were in a continuous state of flux, and the frazzled manipulator of it all was the duty colonel who looked as if he would collapse in his office at any moment-. -Old Colonel Halbarton, communications from all over the harbor requesting more supplies, or personnel support had been unheard of. Every medical officer or person with sufficient medical knowledge, every maintenance man, even including the mechanic who repaired the cars on the traffic shift or the boilermaker who maintained the base's heating, and even every person who could soothe a soldier who had become mentally disturbed by the intense excitement-whether nurse or psychoanalyst-was sent where they were supposed to be; drivers drove the base's The streets ran wild, transporting either wounded soldiers from the port, or supplies from alternate warehouses all over the base to the port. The base operating at full speed made it feel almost like it was going to collapse entirely because of some kind of car accident, or the fall of someone at a certain post.

But just like Ptolemy Base, or the entire Federation Cosmic Force, Colonel Halbarton survived. The base commander, Lieutenant General Fitch, was surprised to see that the entire base was busy, but at the same time not out of order. By the time Earth's Federation Council realized it wanted to inquire about the Ptolemy base, the Moonface base's reserve fleet of slightly damaged and still intact ships, as well as personnel borrowed from other ships, had been assembled. Having lost so many senior officers that they had to reorganize the chain of command, the Federation Universe had not forgotten the old Colonel, so he had brought along the General Star, who might still have spent time in his youth, but had almost given up on his ambitions, and had moved his office from the area of the base personnel, to the area of the fleet personnel.

Commander of the 8th Fleet, at least so far, was a title Halbarton hadn't had much realism about, except for the actual reduction in paperwork that was so commonplace for him. He was known as a wise general, more often than not, just for the fact that it was hard to make half a mistake in the face of complicated paperwork, and Halbarton was not unaware that picking up the fleet command theory he had learned in officer school in the past was too difficult for a man in his late fifties. Plan G, he kept the stack of plans in plain sight, and although he couldn't even comprehend the academic theory of MS warfare or MS design, it didn't stop him from knowing the text of the plan itself by heart. He couldn't get that sight out of his mind, the empty dock in the harbor of Ptolemy's base, where the battered fleet was docked - yes, the dock was actually no different than empty, too many ships had been... hopeless. Like every general, he wanted victory, wanted the Atlantic Federation, Earth United, not those satellite adjusters to win the war, and since he couldn't be a good commander, he should have contributed something else to the effort.

The Intelligence Combine had dug out an MS research group that had existed, so he worked to get them reopened and tried to staff and sponsor them adequately, a fleet had brought back a reasonably intact MS body, the organic division had successfully manipulated the MS, the organic division had worked with that MS development group, and he was following it all, even if they weren't under his command. The military-industrial complex on the ground lacked interest in MS development, and he was well aware that they just couldn't let go of the MA lines that were running at full power, but perhaps that wasn't their only reason.

Plan G went through, but it was going to fail almost straight out of the gate, with both the old and new Perestroika-based military industries refusing and unable to provide enough technicians, with the rather good reason that they had absolutely no experience developing MS and therefore couldn't assure the military that they could make anything, until ORB, a neutral nation, reached out. The Atlantic Federation obviously had serious concerns about this, after all that neutral island nation wasn't even an ally to join forces against Zaft, and these unassailable secret projects were extremely risky in themselves. Probably due to the panic caused by the fiasco of the Eurasian fleet attacking the PLANT homeland, and perhaps also the scruples of their old rivals, East Asia and Eurasia, the Atlantic Federation finally agreed to cooperate with Orb. But the risks of working with a neutral nation remained; all personnel and critical supplies had to be in place at once, and too much communication would obviously lead to more exposure. Halbarton struggled to raise enough resources for the program he had crafted: field agents from the Intelligence Fusion, technicians who had studied MS up close, pilots who had successfully flown MS, the Federation's own use of captured data on all uses of MS, a certain team that would put MS into combat, resources that were not under his control, but he relied on his influence, his face, certain uncertainty of The future benefits, and the newly defeated Union Army's desperate desire for new weapons, were collected together as best they could.

Soon it will be the day the secret group departs, and Dan of the Intelligence Fusion refuses to reveal the date of departure, keeping his mouth shut even to the leader of the plan. So he could only pray silently about it.

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15. Secret Service Fleet (above)

"The Second Special Service Fleet?" Carl frowned, seeing that the other people here seemed to be no stranger to this

"This fleet doesn't really exist, we're in the process of forming it," Fred explained, "Of course, as a Special Forces Fleet, the Intelligence Fusion has to be involved, because beyond that for most of our allies, this fleet is equally non-existent."

"Hell, that doesn't sound good, it means we have a chance of getting those allies..."

"Yes, the average Eurasian or East Asian fleet is likely to judge us as the enemy - if this fleet has ships in space, but at least not yet. But it's necessary for the sake of secrecy, Captain," the other Intelligence officer was still cold, "and our presence is equally necessary to avoid that worst case scenario."

"I hope the worst doesn't happen, but if it's just MS, do you even need to hide it from your allies? I don't believe Zaft would be interested in our technology."

"Quite the contrary, I'm sure they'd love to know if we've caught up, or surpassed them. As for allies, no one can be trusted as far as the Intelligence Convergence is concerned, though I'm sure the Atlantic Federation would like to have started earlier than Eurasia and East Asia as well, but that's not what I need to be concerned about, I'm more interested in how you know this is related to MS, Captain?" Karl noticed that the officer from the Intelligence Unity was narrowing his eyes and looking interested.

"I think it's pretty self explanatory, this guy, like me, was one of the first people in the joint forces to get involved with MS, remember the operation that the undersecretary approved?" Fred preempted his colleague's question.

"Of course I know, and the Under Secretary doesn't hold out much hope for that. Ensign Young, I've checked your file, and only the patrol you were on managed to get a more complete MS, and it was enhanced, presumed to be a captain's plane, and I don't recall any other cosmic squad succeeding in getting an MS, even if it was a more complete wreck. I hope you're not showing off that rare success of yours, Ensign."

"Of course not, but I believe you apparently missed something when you checked the files, like the fact that the MA commander of the sub-fleet on that patrol was this guy. I just shared in the success of him, or the entire fleet."

"What? Did you get that captain's plane too?" The dark-haired female pilot stared at her former apprentice with an incredulous face.

"Technically, that MS was shot down by the ship's melee system, my team just engaged it and towed the wreckage back to the ship at the end. You know in, in-universe it's obviously impossible to grab an MS and drive it back like this one."

"Anyway, our squad owes you a lot of favors, the skeleton of my current landline is from that captain's plane, and this one's been a big help."

"Wait what did you say?" Fred turned his face, "You got another fight? Or did you drive it back? Jesus." The technical officer from Intelligence shook his head, "I checked your file, the crash count isn't that high if you don't count cooperative crashes, another reason to transfer you is that not too many people will find out that Union has a pointy pilot who suddenly goes nowhere, but you're probably no one's going to catch up with the level of pulling MS back."

"Looks like even though you're already a captain, you still don't steal heads, Carl." Lena leaned against the wall and laughed.

"Hell, I'm the captain anyway, letting those newbies get a few more strikes helps build confidence, you know how scared they are of MS at first." Carl made a hopeless face, "Speaking of which, is this test squad here from the 2nd Special Forces Fleet as well? I'm sure there are enough of them here, too, that are familiar with MS pilots."

"Not at nearly the same level of secrecy, though." The intelligence lieutenant's reply was rather brief.

"The reason is really quite simple," the technical second lieutenant from Intelligence began to play to his strengths, "what we need is a new, naturalistic MS, and the pilots here who are already quite familiar with Ginn could easily bring operational habits into the design of the new MS, and that's not what we need, Especially when it comes to making OS adjustments. This base is still using Zaft's original os, just with a few tweaks, which means the operators have to try to keep up with the speed of the adjuster's neural reflexes, and it's clear that this style doesn't suit most naturals. We need a mechanic who can adapt to MS, but hasn't developed some... bad habits to aid in the design of the OS. and I believe you are well suited to the task."

It was true, Carl was well aware, and though the facts were to the contrary, the conclusion was the same. These hands of his own remembered more MS than he had actually seen in this world, he remembered every interface that had ever been projected onto the same retina, and the Federation's proud learning computer system allowed the natural man to be freed from the quagmire of comparing reflexes and performing basic maneuvers with hand speed, and to divert the pilot's precious energy and attention to tactics.

"And I have to take care of my squad, so it's just you on, Hokie." Reina added her reasoning.

"I believe we've covered what needs to be briefed for now, next, Captain Blake, we're going back to your original squad, and I believe the shuttle has been loaded." The intelligence lieutenant was already on his feet and heading for the door, "We need to take care of some paperwork with your captain, you can pack up your personal belongings in the meantime and maybe have time to say goodbye to your teammates before we head back to Ptolemy, there's still a lot of work to do."

------. ------. ------. ------. The dividing line.... ------. ------. ---

Dan. Fritz gazed at the small, blackened group of people in the small conference room, most of whom didn't know what they were going to do, and even those who did, didn't understand the danger of it, because it looked safe, but no doubt he didn't think so himself.

When the ORB offered cooperation to Halbarton's Plan G, he almost thought it was a conspiracy, a warring nation entrusting the development and manufacture of important technical weapons to a neutral nation that wasn't at war and could turn over everything to the other side without risk, and as an intelligence officer, he never believed the slogan that the ORB wouldn't get involved in other nations' disputes.

But the coalition had no choice, and Halbarton played over and over at the Cosmic Council meeting the battle records of the Battle of the World Tree and the Yakin Dovy Assault, the ships that had been sliced open on their flanks, the MAs that had exploded into sparks, and the black-and-white, 1-to-5 exchange ratio that told the Cosmic Army that MS development was imperative. The base commander, Lieutenant General Fitch, was well aware of what Halbarton had done, the seasoned comptroller officer had been the one to see the mountain of supplies bottom out just after the battle when he cleaned up the mess of the World Tree, and even then had been unable to save the Atlantic Federation's once proud fleet.

The budget wasn't difficult to get passed, and while the Cosmic brass didn't trust OBR, since the war was so urgent, and with Brigadier General Halbarton waving the flag for the plan, and the OBR adjusters and the technical power they probably had did have their reliability, the committee didn't mind dedicating the expenditure to finding a way to change the war.

Dan wasn't thinking about what kind of price Orb was offering, but what kind of security Orb could provide, after all neutral countries are always full of spies; and when he actually saw Orb's proposal, he thought it was a joke. It wasn't just MS, it was a whole ship, hell, it was a really good deal, if they didn't cut corners and could keep it a secret.

Carl glanced around the conference room, as he had expected, there were few familiar faces, a large number of technical officers, a small number of people from the ships, a number of people from the Intelligence Fusion, and even the Marines (a bit unscientific, but otherwise couldn't explain the animated cars with the laser beam missiles), and as for the pilots, he seemed to be the only one. He felt a little surprised, but that question was quickly answered.

"The fact that creating a prototype MS, and its accompanying ships, in a short period of time can greatly speed up the time it takes for an MS unit to become a fighting force is good news, but the risks are equally great... If all goes well, a number of replacements will join your ranks when the ships and MS are completed. That's when the fleet can really start functioning. But..."

"Worthy of your leader, and as concerned with secrecy as you are, is the risk actually that great? They even brought the Marines with them." Carl looked over his shoulder and whispered a question to Roy, a recently acquainted lieutenant of the Intelligence Integration Department on the side.

"Worse than what he said, if you want an answer from a professional intelligence officer. So you better believe what he says."

Roy's voice wasn't loud, but Carl noticed a woman in the front row with a technical captain's epaulette who seemed to look back uneasily.

------. --- Here is the author's dividing line ---. ------.

The last chapter didn't (next) because it would have been in the right place. The problem of the protagonist having too little presence is about to be fixed. As well as, for those of you who are still reading this pulp book, Happy New Year. The next may (just may) be knuckle-dragging away for a while, as it's about to move on to the next phase and there are a few things to adjust.

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16. Special Service Fleet (C)

Moonface. Ptolemy's Intelligence Fusion Building.

"God, I can't believe they sent you, Rick, I knew the committee and the vice president would be looking for an experienced guy, but I didn't think it would be you." Dan was having a hard time having a guest in his office at the Grey House.

"I think I'd be the right man for the job, don't you, Fritz, I've got more seniority on the ship than that intended junior captain." The speaker leaned easily back in a chair, his grey curls implying that the owner of this energetic voice was already an old man.

"Of course I know that, 'Dogfighting Haun' of the 11th Branch Fleet, it's a shame your beagle didn't survive the world tree, but at least the Sheridan you were first mate on is still in the dock, don't the people down there think you'd put too much pressure on that captain?" Dan stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, seemingly looking at the view, though all that was in front of him was the drab and unchanging gray buildings of the base administrative block.

"I'm just a representative of the Budget and Equipment Committee, a mere civilian who's disappeared from the committee's list because it's a secret mission, I won't be too active, you should know I've never been that kind of person; but, seriously, I doubt I'll be of much use, you know, the kind of use none of us want to be. "

"I suspected as much, so I told them they needed someone experienced enough in this area that you did fit the bill, hell, but for what you're worth, if you officially went back to the Budget Committee or the Military Equipment Committee, they'd make an office available for you."

"I'm sure they don't think there'll be a shortage of old men who can do the math in the office, absolutely not, and whichever young man plus a computer can do the job I can do. Then I'd rather come back to the universe, I've been in the Cosmic Army for a long time, and Earth's gravity does get a bit annoying."

"But you know how dangerous this is, hell, ORB, those guys are not even done with their family feuds."

"I'm sure you know that Earth is already mobilizing its reserves, and I'm the old guy with the lieutenant colonel's pension who's the happiest person those poor lads at the recruiting office will ever meet, and I can always go back to Ptolemy's 3rd District if I want to, and I remember where all those docks are. So don't scare me with the danger, Fritz, the whole Atlantic Commonwealth, is in danger."

"Exactly the entire planet united, at least that's politically correct in the Unity Department. You know, Eurasia and East Asia are in the same boat as us." Dan turned and shook a serious finger at the man in the chair.

"But apparently not on this project," Rick. Eisenhorn, the former Cosmic Colonel and former member of the Budget Committee grinned, showing his disdain for the Intelligence head's statement, "Politicians are always like that, and I know full well that they're going to keep it from each other, so you have to be 'fair' enough. "