Gundam Fire Still

The G-force effects of the battleship's catapults faded, and Norman exhaled comfortably in his helmet, still a novice but somehow acclimated to sitting in the cockpit, the G-force impact of striking out and powering up instead euphoric, probably the adrenaline at work. With a few skilled taps on the interface, he switched on the TV tracking system, and the image of the Loraxia-class tagged as target two was clearly projected on the screen, along with the ion tail flame that was clearly thrown off by the steering he had just done.

That was a bigger target than in the simulations, Norman thought; in fact, this time they were conducting an anti-ship attack closer than any of the previous times the coalition had trained, and the MA was faster than in any of the training or drills.

"Watch out, they're releasing MS, don't delay too long." Halsey in the front seat said over the channel

"Understood." Decker knew exactly what the pilot in front of him was trying to say, a ship that was releasing MS would be unable to make any drastic maneuvers, meaning it would be an easy target for a while; and he didn't want his MA hanging on to a heavy anti-ship torpedo to engage those nimble MS. Norman activated the air-launched MK48 on the underbelly hanger and pointed the aiming crosshairs at the pre-targeting point given by the computer; with the neutron interference, the missile's guiding head wasn't enough to grab the target at that distance, and the MA's radar was limited in how far it could direct the missile, so the radar on the guiding head would only really be able to The locking and tracking of targets.

But when the target is a close enough, slow-moving behemoth, the absence of guidance is not an issue.

A small bright spot was popping out from under the belly of that battleship, and that was probably the MS it was firing; the permission to fire alert lit up, and Norman pulled the bombing switch. Only a few months ago, in the wasteland of the Moon Crater Belt, he had been part of a Marine squad that had been *depleted* by the particle cannons from those ships, those massive ships pouring out death that armor couldn't stop, and nothing could stop those blazing beams of particles; now they were lying in the center of the scope, no different from before in their tall, powerful hulls, and on this occasion he was It looks, but it already looks like a twisted wreck floating in the universe. Their particle cannons are pointing into the empty void, and this former Marine can now personally deliver death to those old enemies.

The fuselage of the Möbius reloads with a slight shudder, in front of the field of view, several shining jets of light are fading away, and MAs from the same squad and two other squads have dropped their ammunition, some of them heavy Mk48s and others, in greater numbers, medium Harpoon MkIIIs.Ahead of their path, there are more torpedoes from the ships flush-firing, in the lower screen of the On the battlefield situational map, a line stretched out towards the Zaft ships, gathering away.

Exploding balls of light periodically exploded in front of the field of view, it was the two ships CIWS were intercepting missiles from their opponents, Halsey took rough aim and fired the twin 57mm beam guns in the nose, then stepped on the pedal and flipped the booster switch, even if he couldn't hit, he wasn't going to let the newly released MS intercept those missiles comfortably; just as Ginn hurriedly evaded the Meanwhile, the MA had closed the distance. Norman selected the stationary modified Javelin missile on the panel, just as he had done on the moon's surface, and he was ready to pull the trigger at the right moment.

"Attention all squads, enemy MS approaching from the direction of 8th Fleet, batch one, number five, four Ginn, one X-series." The CIC from Montgomery, the flagship of the Technical Verification Fleet, informed over the channel. With the neutron jamming coverage, the MA's radar could only maintain a guard for a short distance around the fuselage, but fortunately the attacking fleet was still within the Technical Verification Fleet's data chain, and the high-powered radar from the mothership was ready to pass on more detailed battlefield intelligence to the individual pilots.

"Understood."

"Understood, attack squad, continue the mission, we'll stop this wave." Erika. Lieutenant Hartman wrestled the joystick to one side, she had been looking forward to engaging those Ginn after switching to the more powerful MA04F. This new single-seat MA had a similar cockpit to the MA02, but far surpassed its predecessor in both maneuverability and firepower, as without a weapons operator in the back seat, the MA04 had an updated onboard computer to reduce the load on the pilot's operations.

As displayed on the battlefield situation screen, the MS group that was turning back to rescue the mothership had appeared in the form of flashing dots of light directly in front of the screen. Lt. Hartman selected both the nose and pod-mounted beam guns, and the four beam guns fired at the fast-approaching Ginn set** alternately, almost to the effect of beam machine guns, with the Ginn squad loosening its formation slightly, and the MA fuselage nearby, jumping with snakes of fire from the 76mm tracer rounds.

"Hell, the X-series, it was that one." The Lieutenant maneuvered the airframe into a sudden hard horizontal roll to one side, the airframe's radar alerts just prompting a different high threat scan than Ginn's fire control radar, and the wingmen that followed scattered, the high output particle beams tracing a golden path between the scattered MAs.

"Cut, dodge it." In the distance, in Tempest's cockpit, the teenage pilot skirted the corner of his mouth, splitting the heavy cannon in the airframe's hands back into the shotgun and regular beam cannon, accelerating as he fired a barrage of shots at the MA group.The MAs were returning with a flurry of anti-air missiles, and they were all well aware that those missiles weren't enough to penetrate PS armor, but they could at least hold the new machine with its incredible firepower in check. "Nigel, it's now." Seeing that the MA's attention had been drawn to himself, the teenager with dark skin gave instructions over the Zaft's encrypted channel, the elite of the Kruse team were not the uncooperative, individual Zaft pilots that the Combine claimed they were, and if the Combine didn't know that, he was happy to teach them a lesson with his teammates. In response, the blackened swift took shape in the void, shooting its anchor claws into the tailspout of a new type of Union aircraft.

The alarm system in the MA nacelle, alerted to the new threat, automatically activated the 30mm self-defense cannon in the tail; by the time the anchor claw plunged hard into the MA tail nozzle, the 30mm high-speed armor-piercing rounds had also rained down on the extremely close-range Velociraptor. When the anchor claw slammed into the MA tail nozzle, the 30mm high-speed armor-piercing rounds were raining down on the Thunderbolt. The weapon should have been fired off as soon as possible. Just as flames were rising from the back of the MA beneath his feet, he could see that the escape pod, located in the cockpit position, had ejected the fuselage that was about to explode.

At the first sign of the speeder's presence, it was updated in the Joint Forces data chain, and although there was no time to rescue the friendly plane he was targeting, there were already several improved Javelin missiles flying at it. Lt. Hartman had the all-black MS holstered right in the middle of the targeting circle, but the craft was constantly making small maneuvers to disrupt the targeting, but she was in no hurry and wasted no time in reminding her opponent that she was still behind him with a single beam gun; an inadvertently passing Ginn fell into range of the MA's focused radar beam directly in front of her, and the Lt. shot two of the older missiles from the outer mount in passing. The range of this semi-active projectile that required guidance had been greatly reduced, but it was still effective in combat at this range of sight. The status of the missile was displayed in a new pop-up window on one side of the main screen, and that didn't prevent her from tracking the swift on the main screen. A few seconds later, Ginn, who had turned to try and intercept the missile, was hit in the leg, but before the second missile hit its target, Ginn was hit by something from the other direction, and Ginn's entire upper body turned into a twisted hunk of metal, her hands and feet flung in strange directions and scattered in the air in separate directions.

"What's going on here?" The Lieutenant looked over her shoulder and asked the comm panel, she could easily recognize that the attack that had robbed her of her own hit was not the result of MA's gunfire.

"Remorseless and Counterattack's medium caliber EM cannons have just taken a holding fire on the opposing MS." The CIC on Nuremberg gave an answer she had expected.

Lt. Hartman turned her attention back to the main screen again, intent on taking out all her resentment at having her head taken away on the scrambling speeder.

A little further away, the two ships of the Lani High Team had gotten into serious trouble, the emergency reserve MS had just been ejected and gotten tangled up in the Union MA, and the members of the two ships quickly discovered that the Union cruiser fire was not as easy to evade as it had been before, the NASCAR class's amazing caliber but narrow field of fire main gun had not yet been turned to the proper angle of fire, and the Loraxia The two rotating turrets of the class were pouring particle beams back at the joint, unfortunately the Zaft's gunners hadn't experienced much of this kind of gunfire, in the past the MS would have taken care of everything in front of them and they would just have to reload on targets that were already heavily hit or shoot at stationary targets on the ground. The evasive maneuvers the ship made to avoid the flying fire or the concussion of the hull when it was hit caused those projectile particle beams to deflect into the empty void.

Remiret sat relaxed in Montgomery's command chair, watching the Lorasian class that kept firing unthreatening beams from its sights. He almost wanted to laugh, the adjusters didn't seem to know how to bring out the true capabilities of the ships beneath their feet; the design thinking of those Zaft ships wasn't unfamiliar, the large-caliber main guns, the elimination of the medium-caliber secondary guns in favor of keeping only the CIWS and supplemental torpedoes, and the weakened radar and missile neutron jamming were easily reminiscent of the oceans where dreadnoughts ran rampant, speaking with hard armor and heavy guns. era; relying on the oversized caliber and extended range of the 110cm beam cannons their ships were equipped with, those Zaft would have been able to hang any combined fleet of cruisers, and they would have been able to turn the cruisers into burning wrecks before the Nelson class could bring them into effective range; instead of being left without the cover of the MS once they were a full order of magnitude smaller than their caliber, as they are now. A messy twist in the gunfire. And what are they doing with those powerful 110cm main guns? To reload a badly wounded enemy ship? The main body of the United Cosmic Force is derived from the navy, which has a long history, and it's clear that Zaft has a lot of lessons to catch up on.

"Attention, shelling."

"Lower the bow!"

With the engines already at maximum, the NASCAR class sank sharply downward, allowing a set of 279mm mag-rail shells to sweep over the bridge, and as a price, it cut into the trajectory of an otherwise avoidable set of flush-firing 155mm armor-piercing rounds, and as several times before, a few shells ricocheted off after leaving a scratch in the main armor where NASCAR has an excellent jump-shot profile, but one lucky enough shot hit the CIWS on the starboard side that had no ballistic profile whatsoever.The anti-aircraft screen that had been desperately spitting fire at the incoming missile thinned out, and the emergency sinking maneuver had just caused a string of fire that would have intercepted the next deadly Mk48 to go off target. Before the damage control squad could report the loss of the CIWS to the bridge, the Mk48 torpedo, which had opened its guide head, slammed headlong into NASCAR's starboard side without technical skill.

------. ------. --- Here are the author's delimiters ------. ------. ------.

Note: As a tribute to Frog's Counterattack, Remiret's ship is still the Montgomery, which is not integrated into the Eighth Fleet sequence in this slot.

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27.Low Track - Before the End

As he watched the explosive flames rise up on the friendly ships, Crusher had been quick-eyed enough to press the button from his commander's terminal to fire the retreat flare.

"Stop acceleration and make an emergency turn."

"What?" The helmsman was abruptly shocked, although he had been prepared for this, he hadn't imagined he would need to do that so soon, he shook his head to leave out the distractions and took a firm grip on the helm, completing the operation as instructed. The massive hull of the Vesalis began to slowly tilt, the posture adjustment jets on the starboard forward and port aft sides began to spray at full force, everyone on the bridge held the grips against inertia, and the Gamov, which was parallel to its course, immediately began the same maneuver.

But the Zaft's forward ships had no time to do so; just seconds after the Lanigau's Nazca class had been hit, the same team's Lorassia class had been penetrated through its armor by magnetic rail shells from the Combine, the two Nelson class ships' converted magnetic rail main guns having a larger caliber and better armor-piercing capability than the original coil guns, the 305mm metal projectiles slamming easily into the starboard side's cumulonimbus armor plate! , destroying any corridors, pipelines, or bodies in its path, then terminating its journey in the engine room. Like an open kettle pouring smoke and fire out of a hole in the water, the Lorasian class soon slowed.

The next to be attacked was the slightly further back Ziegler, if it had been a more maneuverable NASCAR class, it might still have been able to escape, but the Loraxia class, which had just completed its turn and began a slow acceleration towards the PLANT's trajectory, was also immediately the target of the new technology verification fleet's fire, two veteran captains who had been in the breakaway fleet had already spotted the ship, which had not been used as a primary target for torpedo attacks, and as soon as they saw that the first two targets had been hit, the ready fire control officer immediately turned fire on the Ziegler, which had just finished turning around.

Meanwhile, the Archangel, the hangar, the shuttle

Waiting is always an anxiety-provoking thing, and everything here makes that anxiety doubly so.

ORB refugees from a colonial satellite destroyed by the war are being housed in a Union warship. And just a few decks and armor away was a war, the same war that had destroyed their homes; streets and green spaces torn apart, explosions and flames rising in the artificial sky, entire homes swept into the void of the universe, a twisted shard of wreckage that had just happened to them before their very eyes. This war, it was happening all around them, but they could only face the metallic bulkheads and let their anxiety and anxiety slowly fester; perhaps in the very next second a beam of light penetrating the armor would vaporize everything here, perhaps in the very next second the ship would explode into a burning inferno; but there were no tremors, no gunfire, no sense of tilt as they turned, no acceleration, not a bit of The signs could tell them what was happening, they knew nothing except the existence of war as evidenced by the roar from the MS and MA that had previously attacked, and this unknown grew their fear. The uneasy hearts of the refugees could only remain hanging in the air up and down, a string that was slowly becoming weaker with time.

And then, a song began.

The song came from the VIP seats in the forward cabin, quiet and peaceful, almost making the technicolour silver-grey walls of the shuttle seem off-putting, and the war a few floors away seemed to have never existed; their vision seemed to have been taken to a more natural, calmer place. It was the mysterious PLANT girl, the civilians on the shuttle immediately came to the conclusion that she had been kept fairly tightly hidden by the Combine, but the corridors of the ship did carry, from time to time, a similar, infectious singing voice to that of one of PLANT's famous singers.

From his seat in the forward cabin, Corporal James smiled grimly at the Undersecretary of Diplomacy, the boy always liked to reveal himself in such a way. Alistair likewise responded with a bitter smile, having no time to ponder whether this was just plain childish behavior or whether the daughter of this PLANT politician was being sophisticated enough to use it to get herself into the good graces of others; in any case, if the battle was lost, he wouldn't need to think about anything, and if he made it back to Washington alive, there would be someone better suited to handle it there! These questions; not to mention the fact that he had his own daughter's problems to deal with, why she had chosen to wear the uniform, and how he should protect that, perhaps to the point of rebellion.

At least the song was clear and peaceful, nothing to do with morale or war propaganda, just the simplest of all, a prayer for peace and tranquility, calming the anxious, restless, nervous hearts of this shuttle.

At the same time, it was a stark irony with everything that lay beyond the few layers of armor plate.

A Ginn accelerating in a straight line towards the mothership was being chased by several heat-seeking missiles and quickly losing the thruster and propulsion fuel contest, caught up and engulfed in flames. The reddish MS violently morphed into an MA and strafed a round of its long-stored energy 580mm compound phase energy cannon to the rear, and the Union MAs retreated under the red beam. Just a few ships apart, the raid and the duel had just gone through a burrowing battle, while the raid was holding a beam rifle for a fairly easy to predict burst of fire, the duel gradually closed the distance, the beam saber cut down head-on, but was blocked by the anti-beam shield, Kira, although inexperienced, but reacted quickly, dropped the rifle, switched out the armor-breaking knife at his waist, and slashed at the duel's waist as it closed the knife. At this time the flare was distantly exploding, the two movements slowed down, and the two machines had also separated due to the reaction force. Taking advantage of this opportunity, the already wounded duel succinctly made a U-turn, shrugged off the strong attack from behind, and instead cut into the battlefield where the Sacred Shield was, grabbing the flank of the Sacred Shield's MA form, the two machines simultaneously opened to their maximum main thrusters to cut a dazzling light tail in the slightly broken array of the Eighth Fleet.

"What is the Eighth Fleet doing? You're still dilly-dallying at a time like this." Remiret shook his head at the constantly updated battlefield situation, as the firepower of the New Technology Verification Fleet began to extend to the three ships further away, the two wounded ZAFT ships closer to them showed signs of regaining control again, and it was only then that the Eighth Fleet began to fire on the two badly damaged enemy ships.

"Report, target battleship 04,05, has stopped accelerating." An unexpected message came from the radar officer.

"What?" This was completely unexpected by Remiret, the two targets he had almost given up on, and the shelling now did more than just cheer their departure. Farther away, steering and accelerating earlier the two Cruze ships were having a hard time catching up, the Nazca when they reached top speed was enough to leave these Nelson class far behind, even the Loraxia class had quite a bit of power, but now, they had stopped accelerating?

"It's waiting for their MS!" the communication from Lexington revealed Winchester's face, no context was needed, the exchange of information took only that brief moment, and Remy responded immediately.

"No remorse, counterattack, immediately turn fire battleship target 04, this ship and Nuremberg, turn fire target 05, Lexington, continue attacking target 03."

Slicing through the wreckage swarm that was beginning to cool down like shining meteors were the four G's in high speed retreat and a few surviving Ginn, the moment they saw the retreat signal, only a well trained pilot could get out of the melee in one piece, whether it was a love affair or a hasty escape, they were often successfully intercepted by those combined MA's, especially the newer ones. The four Gs broke through the interception with their excellent firepower and armor, and now, even if they escaped from the combined fire net, it was still a question of whether they could catch up with the battleships.

Rau. LU. Kruse, Zaft's infamous ace, had a rather rare, troubled look on his face, knowing exactly how he would have gone about getting to Patrick ... if only one battle had failed. Sara to report it and get the latter to react as he had planned. However, if his son had been lost along with the Lanikos' ships, he might not have been able to grasp his possible reaction. No, in fact, his reaction would be easy to guess, except that if that inevitable coming madness came too soon, before other preparations were completed, it would not reach the end he hoped for. Kreuzer shook his head, the expression invisible on his masked face, but his crew's hearts sank and they all heard the order to stop accelerating and wait for the MS.

The trajectory of the coalition's near-misses could already be seen out the portholes, and the battlefield situational map, representing the spike signals of his own MS, was, little by little, working its way closer.

"Ziegler's on fire. Rudder's out!" New bad news reached the bridge of Vesalius' ship, and a certain somberness began to permeate the atmosphere.

"The Gamov, steering?" The Radar Officer suddenly grew his mouth, surprised by the report.

"Gamov, what's turning around now? Selman!" Ardis, the captain of Vesalis, opened the comm channel and asked aloud.

"I'll cover MS's retreat, you guys should recover them quickly and let the longshoremen escape, we were originally responsible for that too." On the screen that answered, Captain Selman looked serious, as if he was planning to take the blame for the defeat all by himself.

"This....." Ardis looked regretfully at the gradually darkening communication interface, but when he looked back, he saw that beneath his captain's mask, he seemed to be hiding a smile that sent chills down his spine.

"Enemy Loraxia class is turning!" The same message was sent to the bridge of Montgomery's ship, "About to block our firing line on the NASCAR class!"

'I didn't expect Zaft to have guys so willing to sacrifice, or is it just that they don't want to suffer the consequences of failure?' Remiret thought to himself, but kept his expression flat, "In that case, just sink it as he wishes."

Ahead of the tail flames of the NASCAR class drawing farther and farther away, the struggling Gamov under fire was soon hit, first destroyed by the exposed lack of armor-clad radar, observation equipment, and CIWS, and soon the thick armor also began to be penetrated by 279 and 305mm EMP shells, then internally triggered explosions tore through the hull shells, spewing twisted metal and smoke outward.

Behind the lines, the fire from the Eighth Fleet was becoming more accurate, without the MS scurrying around, or the mental oppression brought on by the presence of MS on the battlefield; the Eighth Fleet gunners were gradually finding the feeling of their training, and the flush shots at the several smoking Zaft ships above the orbit were becoming more accurate with each shot, and the Agamemnon-class beam main guns began to fire at the The Lani High team scraped more holes in the ship.

Probably after such a battle, the combat level of the surviving soldiers of the 8th Fleet will also be improved, then perhaps it will be easier to request new equipment from their superiors? Such content crossed Halbarton's mind, then the old man sitting in the captain's chair shook his head helplessly, always calculating such things instead of looking at the situation on the battlefield, he was probably indeed unfit to be a commander. After the battle had begun, all he had done was sit on the bridge and worry about the Archangel and the child. But anyway, it was about to end.