Copyright © 1988 by Yoshiyuki Tomino

Copyright © Kadokawa Shoten

This book is a fan translation.

Support the official release if there ever is one.

Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents may differ

slightly from official names at the time of translation. Updated versions of
this will be made to reflect changes at a future date.

Kadokawa Bunko “GAIA GEAR VOL.4”

Released 1992.02.01

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Novel Translation and Book Layout by Zeonic|Scanlations

First Edition: November 2024

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter.01 Accommodate······························································ 005
Chapter.02 Earth Invasion ······························································ 013
Chapter.03 Fall in Love ···································································· 019
Chapter.04 Joe in Liège ·································································· 029
Chapter.05 At the Tavern ······························································· 040
Chapter.06 Cross Game ·································································· 047
Chapter.07 Colors of Defeat, Colors of Night ···························· 058
Chapter.08 Hush-a-Bye ·································································· 068
Chapter.09 Patient ··········································································· 080
Chapter.10 First Step ······································································ 094
Chapter.11 Shadow in Back ··························································· 101
Chapter.12 Gids Geese ··································································· 112
Chapter.01
Accommodate

The crackle of static cut through the cockpit as Affranchi Char's

sensors picked up Messer Met's signal, the first sign of his squad mate
since their atmospheric descent. Without hesitation, Affranchi and
Madras Caria's Air Force One launched into a rescue operation. Their
rendezvous point: the Jutland Peninsula, once Danish territory. But
the moment they made contact with Messer's team, the trap snapped
shut.
The timing was uncanny, almost as if Messer's group had been
deliberately used as bait.
"Six signatures?!" Affranchi's eyes narrowed at his magnified
tactical display, counting the enemy signatures materializing to the
west. If this was indeed an ambush, logic dictated there had to be
more lying in wait.
"Messer, do you copy? Link up with Madras's unit!" Affranchi's
voice cut through the Minovsky particle interference that clouded
their communications.
Through the static came Messer's rage-filled response.
"Over here! Madras! Rey, Saes! Take flight!"
A grim smile crossed Affranchi's face at hearing his comrade's
voice. Then a thought struck him.
"Could it be him?"
His mind flashed to their brief encounter during atmospheric entry
- Ul Urian piloting that new model, the Bromb Texter. Its deceptively
simple design suggested it was built with atmospheric combat in
mind. If that was the case, they'd need to strike first and seize the
initiative before being overwhelmed.
The moment that thought crystallized, his sensors exploded with
warning signals.
The flash of incoming missiles and beam weapons lit up his display.
Something clicked in Affranchi's mind - an almost electric
sensation. In that same instant, his Gaia Gear's beam barrier had
already deployed, extending forward to meet the threat. The incoming
fire erupted into a fireball kilometers ahead, which the Gaia Gear
burst through moments later.
"WOOOAAHHH!!!"
Affranchi's battle cry tore from his throat as his consciousness
laser-focused, drawing out something primal from within.
With a thunderous roar, the Gaia Gear's main display erupted in
blinding light as violent tremors wracked the frame. Affranchi pulled
his machine skyward, its form arcing through the void as it accelerated
from Mach 2 to Mach 3. The maneuver was pure instinct - up, then
inversion. His view transformed rapidly: sky to earth, sea to clouds!
The mecha moved not through conventional controls, but through
his neural interface helmet, the psycommu, responding to his very
thoughts.
"Kuh-hah!"
A sharp gasp escaped his throat as several streaks of light appeared
like trailing comets through the rapidly shifting landscape. The
moment his mind registered them as threats, the Gaia Gear's systems
responded. Its reaction time surpassed even the computer's
calculations, the difference lying in the split-second between
Affranchi's intuition and the computer's processing.
The Gaia Gear's bomber pod responded with a whisper-quiet
launch, releasing several needle-like missiles into the chaos. In that
precise moment, his heightened consciousness locked onto what he
sensed was a formidable opponent.
"That's the target we need to eliminate!"
Though his consciousness couldn't redirect the already-launched
needle missiles, his instincts proved true. With a metallic screech, one
of the minimally-explosive payloads, scored a direct hit on the leg of
Ul Urian's Bromb Texter. While not fatal, the impact was precise.
Ul's reaction came as a sharp intake of breath followed by what
could only be described as an irritated click of his tongue. The
moment Ul's concentration broke, the Bromb Texter spun 180
degrees, disrupting the formation of the five trailing Gussa units.
Those five Gussa units slid across the terrain, clearly targeting
Madras's machine.
"Here they come!"
Before Michel Aiken could finish his warning, Madras had already
unleashed the Air Force's sole weapon - its beam cannon - toward the
Gussa formation.
The beam cut through the air in a fan pattern, slicing through the
treetops and splitting the Gussa formation apart.
Two Gussa units pulled upward, and in the next instant, the
thunderous explosion of a man-machine's fusion reactor lit up the sky.
The expanding shockwave and brilliant flash slammed into the Air
Force unit, disrupting the aerial dogfight between the Gaia Gear and
Bromb Texter above.
"AUGH!"
The impact drew a pained cry from Krishna Pandent, the young
crew member positioned to Madras's left.
"You idiot! What are you doing?!" A woman's sharp voice cut
through their comms.
"That you, Rey?!" Krishna shouted through the violent tremors.
"Stop talking! You'll bite your tongue!" Madras barked, even as he
caught his own lip between his teeth.
Though the shockwave brutally buffeted the Air Force unit, they
somehow managed to avoid crashing into the ground below.
"Damn it all!"
Madras quickly disengaged the attitude control system as it fought
to stabilize the craft - forcing stability now would have torn the wings
clean off. Instead, he wrestled for control manually.
"Over here!"
"Below!"
The voices of Rey, Messer, and Saes cut through the Minovsky
particle interference with startling clarity, as if they were practically on
top of them.
"Monitor status!"
"Yes, sir!"
Krishna and Michel kept their eyes glued to their tactical displays,
scanning intently.
"Jump aboard!"
"We're running on fumes! We've got one shot at this!"
"Drop your altitude a bit more!"
The desperate calls from Messer and Saes spurred Madras into
action.
"Hold on! Opening the hatch!"
As he reached for the docking bay controls, Krishna's voice rang
out with urgency: "There! Forty degrees down to the left!" She'd
spotted the three man-machines, the Zorin Soul and two Dochadi
units, in a depression roughly ten kilometers from the heliport.
"Enemy units!" Michel's warning pierced the tension.
"Damn... it won't open!" Despite his words, Madras swung the craft
around toward Messer's position.
"The hatch—?!"
"That's right!"
Before Madras could finish explaining, Krishna had already leapt up
and manually released the hatch leading to the rear bay cabin.
"Opening the hatch now."
"Please hurry!"
Madras and Michel could barely spare a glance, their attention
consumed by the targeting systems as enemy units closed in with
deadly intent.

2
Krishna sealed the bridge hatch before grabbing the docking bay
handle, pressing the button beside it. The mechanism released with a
heavy mechanical thud, and daylight flooded in as the vulnerable
space expanded above them.
"Starboard hatch open!" she called out.
The Air Force's beam cannon fired in rapid succession, its flashes
illuminating the bay cabin in strobing bursts of light.
"Messer! Get in here!" Madras's voice thundered through Krishna's
headphones.
"Here goes!"
Krishna pressed herself against the bridge-side wall, knowing she'd
have to manually open the port hatch. With a thunderous whoosh,
the Zorin Soul's massive frame appeared in the open hatch space -
only to leap past it. Messer hadn't been confident about landing in the
bay cabin with just one hatch open.
The air crackled and roared as the Zorin Soul launched interceptor
missiles from above Krishna's head. The fact that he still had missiles
in reserve was nothing short of astonishing.
Krishna disengaged the handle lock and threw her whole body into
turning it, muscles straining, her breath coming in sharp gasps..
"Hah! Ngh..."
The space slowly widened, finally offering enough room to
accommodate the man-machines.
Above them, the Gaia Gear emerged from a fireball. The Bromb
Texter hadn't sustained critical damage, but the Gaia Gear faced it
with unprecedented agility, keeping its movements in check. Wrapped
in its beam barrier to counteract atmospheric interference at
supersonic speeds, the Gaia Gear released sand barrels to cut off
pursuit from the Bromb and its two supporting Gussas.
When timed correctly, the sand barrels created a perfect barrier
against enemy missiles and beams. A string of fireballs bloomed across
the sky where they collided.

In the Bromb Texter's cockpit, Ul sat in stunned amazement.

Today's enemy was different - overwhelmingly faster.
"What is this?!" Ul's frustration mounted as he repeatedly lost sight
of his target, catching glimpses of only his allied Gussas. "Could they
have mastered the psycommu?!" The thought wasn't voiced - in
battle, such realizations needed to stay unspoken. To speak them was
to invite death.
"There!"
Somehow he caught the Gaia Gear's shadow darting between
clouds. Ul responded to the presence - the "presence" - emanating
from that silhouette.
"Funnels!"
With a metallic shriek, four mind-controlled missiles converged on
the Gaia Gear from all directions. But Affranchi's consciousness easily
countered these weapons, guided only by raw, uncontrolled impulse.
The Gaia Gear's beam barrier intensified slightly, becoming visible for
just a moment. The funnels connected with a thunderous crash,
detonating one after another in a cascade of explosions.

"Now!"
Affranchi's will focused to a razor point as the Gaia Gear's beam
rifle aligned with the Bromb Texter. In that instant, Ul realized his
funnels had been reduced to dust.
"Tch!"
He sensed the beam's heat like a blow to his brain and jerked the
Bromb aside. The near-miss of beam particles peppered his hull with a
staccato of impacts, creating pinhole damage. Even the strongest
armor couldn't escape such wounds completely.
"Gaia Gear!"
Responding to Ul's will, the Bromb twisted into an ascent, its wing
verniers extending from its backpack to demonstrate maneuverability
surpassing even the Gaia Gear.

The Zorin Soul's landing sent shockwaves through Madras's craft.

Krishna's grip on the handle was torn away, her body lifting from the
bay cabin floor.
"Ah!"
"What happened?!" Michel and Madras's voices struck her ears
simultaneously.
To her horror, Krishna watched as the hatch and docking bay edge
began to mercilessly slide away.
"I'm falling!" she screamed.
Though her cry should have reached Messer Mett in the newly-
docked Zorin Soul, there was no response. He and Totto Göring were
focused on the approaching Gussa.
With a defiant roar, the Zorin Soul's beam rifle expended its final
energy in one last shot. The Gussa, caught off guard by the Zorin
Soul's sudden appearance, took Messer's shot directly. Its thigh
punctured, the machine hung in the air for a moment before
plummeting.
In the wake of that takedown, Rey and Saes's Dochadis leaped
toward the Air Force's bay cabin. But then--
"What the-?!"
Rey spotted Krishna's body floating through the air and extended
his Dochadi's manipulator. Though slowed by the limited energy
reserved for attitude control, Rey's piloting skills had improved. Her
manipulator caught Krishna's body as they fell from a height of barely
fifty meters, the Air Force craft visible just above them.
Krishna clung to the manipulator's fingers as branches whipped
past, tearing at her overalls. The manipulator moved protectively
around her.
"Krishna!" Rey's voice boomed through the Dochadi's external
speakers.
"Rey?!"
As Krishna responded, the Air Force craft above her unit attempted
to accelerate. Another flash of light pierced the air nearby, and
Krishna's back slammed into a tree trunk.
"Ugh!"
Her body struck the canopy, the dense branches cushioning her
fall somewhat. Though she grasped at passing branches, she couldn't
stop her descent.
"That idiot!"
Rey had turned when she felt an impact from behind, having lost
sight of Krishna in the flash. The Air Force craft streamed overhead.
"Rey!"
"Wait up!"
At Saes's cry, Rey forced her machine into one final jump.
"Just a little more!"
Below Rey's field of vision, Messer and Saes's units were firing thin
beam rifle lines in all directions while tearing away the battered bay
cabin hatch.
"Go for it!"
With a final thruster burst, Rey hurled her machine into the gap
behind the other two units, landing with a resounding crash.
"Touchdown!"

3
Affranchi sensed the Bromb Texter's pursuit even as he noticed its
beam rifle's weakening output. Yet he could still feel the savage intent
radiating from the pursuing machine.
Without hesitation, he launched needle missiles from the pods
mounted on the Gaia Gear's thighs, letting his machine plummet in
the same direction as the projectiles. In one fluid motion, he tucked
the Gaia Gear's left arm close while banking in the direction the
Bromb had dodged the missiles.
Always moving counter to human prediction.
"Ugh!"
By the time Ul registered the movement, the Gaia Gear's beam
saber had already sliced through one of the Bromb's wing verniers
from behind. The explosion rocked the air as the machine lost its
footing, its overwhelming power now working against it as it hurtled
toward the ground at terrifying speed.
Affranchi seized the moment, targeting the enemy units who'd
hesitated at the Bromb's predicament. His beam rifle spoke, and a
manipulator arm went spinning away from one of the machines in a
shower of sparks.
But that attack had been a mistake. In that instant, Affranchi lost
sight of where the Bromb had slipped away to.
Still, his heightened awareness told him the remaining enemies
were severely weakened. He pursued the retreating Madras unit, his
magnified monitor showing a single Gussa sliding above the ash-
brown forest canopy.
"It ends here... but Ul lives..."
Though Affranchi could pinpoint the direction of Ul's "presence," he
knew the operation was over now that Madras had retrieved Messer's
team. He never expected to destroy or severely damage five of MHA
Gayjisu's man-machines.
"Madras!"
Affranchi twisted the Gaia Gear into descent. The craft skimmed
the dull green earth below, both hatches torn away.
"Honestly..." Affranchi felt his tension drain away as he regarded
the Air Force unit with a wry smile. The three man-machines crammed
inside looked like frightened infantry taking aim from an armored car.
But the Air Force, originally a pure space carrier, had heavy armor only
on its deck - the rest could be pierced by a single rifle round.
No shield at all.
"Messer, get the man-machines into storage position."
"We've got bigger problems! Krishna's gone missing!" Rey's angry
voice cut across Affranchi's order.
"What do you mean?"
"She fell from the hatch. I caught her once with my machine, but
she got blown away in an explosion. She's gone!"
"Krishna is--?! Madras, is this true?" Affranchi brought the Gaia
Gear's manipulator against the Air Force's bridge as he demanded
answers.
"Michel's searching now... she's not here."
Through the gap between the Zorin Soul and two Dochadis in the
bay cabin, Affranchi could see Michel searching. The man-machines'
cockpit hatches opened, revealing the three pilots who might once
have been traitors - but there was a fourth figure emerging from the
Zorin Soul.
"Should we go back to search?!" Madras called out.
"No... we can't return to the battlefield. Not for a crew member
who might not even be..." Affranchi caught himself, realizing how cruel
his pragmatism sounded.
"I had her in my Dochadi's grip!" Rey protested.
"Rey, you did well. But we were in combat. Right now, the three of
you, the man-machines, and our extra passenger take priority over
Krishna."
As the words left his mouth, the desolate expanse of the North Sea
suddenly filled his field of view.
Chapter.02
Earth Invasion

Skimming low over the North Sea, Affranchi watched the Air Force
One and his Gaia Gear press northward. Through the craft was
missing bay cabin hatches, he could see the three man-machines lying
sideways in the swirling air currents - like bodies in coffins, he
thought. The sight filled him with a cold emptiness.
"Krishna is gone... dead..." The thought was poison. It seemed
impossible that her plump form had been sitting with Madras on the
bridge mere moments ago.
Yet Affranchi had rejected his and the others suggestion to search
for her. He couldn't risk multiple lives and precious man-machines to
confirm the fate of one person. That was his judgment as a unit
commander.
But when he weighed the value of the three rescued pilots against
Krishna's life, his decision felt far from absolute. He remembered
reading something in a historical novel, "Those who betray once will
surely betray again."
In reality, he could imagine it being true. If Krishna had been
destined to become a proper pilot in the near future, she would have
been far more valuable than these three pilots. Yet for his
undermanned unit, recovering three functional man-machines
outweighed a single crew member.
Weighing human lives to military assets felt like a grave sin. But
facing the reality before him, retreat was the only option.
"What a cursed thing..."
Affranchi switched the Gaia Gear to automatic flight and removed
his helmet while maintaining rear visibility - a violation of protocol
when expecting pursuit. But the fatigue from projecting his
consciousness so intensely had left him drained. He needed relief.
The overcast sky seemed heavy enough to let his mind unwind. He
retrieved a bottle from beside the survival kit under his seat and drank
glacier-sourced mineral water. The coldness shocked him awake, the
liquid absorbing into his mouth like silk. Beyond the tilted bottle, thick
clouds rolled past.
He sighed and glanced again at Madras' craft. Its flight was stable.
A shadow moved past the bridge window.
"Good enough," he muttered meaninglessly, then called up the
current flight course on his computer display. Without radar, position
was calculated using terrain memory base charts, accumulated engine
output and duration, factoring in atmospheric pressure, temperature,
and wind direction variables.
"Well then..."
As he found a moment to breathe, his body reminded him of basic
needs - biological imperatives completely disconnected from Krishna's
loss. Such human physicality saddened him. The perfection of his pilot
suit's waste management systems offered comfortable relief, but once
freed from such mundane concerns, the hollow feeling of Krishna's
loss returned to haunt him.
Yet he had nothing to cling to.
"Miranda..." The name barely left his lips before another replaced it.
"Eva..."
The name stirred something in him. On the other side of Earth,
Everly Key's vivid form surely still drew breath. The thought made
Affranchi want to drown in the ocean of his own physiology - a
desperate desire to escape reality.
But reality would not allow him to purge all his sentiments so
easily.

Affranchi's melancholy evaporated as he spotted something

strangely white along Norway's North Sea coastline. Intrigued by the
unnatural whiteness of what appeared to be shoreline, he guided the
Gaia Gear ahead of Madras's unit and descended for a closer look.
Hovering in place, he magnified the white line on his monitor. His
spine turned to ice as he recognized what had accumulated to create
that pale border.
"Bones?! And not just fish..."
'Massive' was the only appropriate word for the scale. The
coastline stretching east to west had become a mass grave of
bleached remains.
"Whales... seals and sea lions too?"
The bones of these massive creatures had been carried in by the
waves, piling up into mountains that now formed the coastline itself.
While the Skagerrak Strait naturally channeled weakened marine life
to this point, this accumulation was beyond comprehension - a
graveyard born of ocean pollution.
"Is this still ongoing...?"
He wondered if he'd simply been too tense earlier to notice similar
formations on the Danish coast. The South Pacific waters where
Affranchi grew up, while polluted, had never presented such a
devastating spectacle. He'd seen reports of ocean pollution from the
last century creating scenes like this, but it seemed impossible that
such conditions could persist for over two hundred years.
"The seas are still in this state..."
Shame washed over him as he realized how focused he'd been on
tactical concerns, neglecting to consider Earth's current
environmental state. It struck him that their man-machines should at
least carry radiation and chemical detection equipment.
"This makes it clear how absurd talk of resuming Earth migration
really is."
His training at Metatron had taught him that humanity's growing
numbers exceeded Earth's habitable capacity. But seeing such direct
evidence of Earth's critical condition drove the reality home on a
visceral level.
The two units made several course corrections to ensure they'd
evaded both MHA and Earth Federation Forces radar before turning
east into the Scandinavian Peninsula. Deep within the fierce coastline
carved by fjords, they observed more shores of settled bones.
Finally, tracing the contours of the land, they made their way back
to Hamar.

3
"Welcome back. I'm truly glad to see you."
Affranchi embraced each of them as they descended from the Air
Force's bridge – Messer Mett, Rey Seias, and Saes Konsoon.
"Are you really, though?" Messer's skepticism showed through,
though he still puffed out his chest for the benefit of the watching
ground staff.
"Some might say we need you as combat strength, but that's not it.
It's painful when people who've come to know each other fall out
over trivial matters."
"Trivial matters? Reyzam's death wasn't trivial to us. It was
everything," Messer shot back as Saes and Rey moved to flank him.
The crack of Affranchi's palm against Messer's cheek split the air.
"You bastard!"
Messer's fist and Saes's body whipped toward Affranchi like
lightning. But he was faster, his kick sweeping Messer's legs while
simultaneously striking Saes's thigh. Both stumbled, their upper
bodies flailing.
Rey's kick grazed Affranchi's side, but he twisted slightly, making
her stumble before stepping back.
The three regained their breath, trying to find their fighting
distance.
"Don't be childish. Was Reyzam's death our fault?! My poor
leadership?! If that's how you view the death of a trained pilot in
actual combat, you're no better than street thugs. You can't run from
life that way."
"Ugh..." Messer groaned at both Affranchi's fierce reaction and his
words.
"Messer!" Saes lowered his stance as he saw Messer frozen in
place, his chance to strike lost.
"You know... my head's still spinning..." Rey said with a hint of
resignation.
"Rey, your movements were impressive. And the way you three
move together... Isn't it time you grew up and fought alongside us
instead?"
Affranchi relaxed his guard and looked up at the man standing on
the Air Force's ramp. The giant, Totto Göring, flashed his white teeth
in a grin.
"They've met their match with Affranchi here," Totto said, casually
stepping down from the ramp to clap Messer's shoulder.
"I saw this man's skills from inside a police cell. I've heard how you
all got mixed up with this Metatron business, but in the end, isn't it
your freeloading attitude that got Reyzam killed?"
"If he hadn't become a man-machine pilot, he wouldn't have died
in battle."
"Instead, he'd have been worked to death in forced labor like me,
probably castrated before being killed... That's what happens to the
weak-willed anywhere. That's what Affranchi's saying. You've got no
right to resent becoming pilots."
Totto turned to properly greet Affranchi.
"Has to make you laugh, doesn't it? Running into each other in a
place like this."
"Indeed. I'd imagined we'd meet somewhere more ordinary, like a
space colony."
"Well, Affranchi, these guys are still shocked over losing their
friend. Try to understand how they're feeling."
"They've been through hell since descending to Earth. But it wasn't
for nothing. Above all, meeting you brought them back to us. I'm
grateful."
"Anyone would get pissed seeing how MHA operates up close."
"That bad?"
"Treatment looks good on the surface, but their ideology is rotten."
"So we're even now, right?" Saes brazenly whispered in Totto's ear.
"What's that?"
"I mean, Affranchi thinks he's helped us out, so now he'll work us
to death... we're in his debt."
"Quit talking stupid!" Totto's fist connected with Saes's stomach.
"Totto?!"
"Leave him!" Totto kicked at Rey's hip as she moved to help Saes.
"That's not how we do things here. Show some respect."
"Heh heh heh... sorry 'bout that. Old habits die hard." Despite
looking down at Affranchi, the giant was genuinely apologetic.
Rey spat but still helped Saes up.
"Let's have some tea, for now," Affranchi said, guiding the giant by
the waist toward the prefab building beside the runway.
"What about Krishna?" Madras asked Affranchi.
"We'll discuss that after hearing Totto's story."
"Krishna's missing?" Kross-Hansen Stinsrud and Bjor Staff turned
pale.
"A lot happened. Rey tried desperately to save her, but..."
Affranchi's comment surprised Rey. He hadn't forgotten her report
and was sharing her efforts with others. For someone like Rey, who
only knew superficial relationships, having her actions acknowledged
and shared meant everything. It satisfied something deep in her soul.
"Affranchi...?"
"What is it?"
"Nothing..."
Rey smiled at Affranchi, beginning to think that maybe this young
man could be trusted after all.
"So these are our infamous problem children..." Kross-Hansen
watched Affranchi lead the four away, asking Madras and Michel.
"That's right."
"They seem rather spirited, don't they?" Bjor said mischievously.
"Totto was apparently their old captain. They might look well-
behaved now, but can we trust them?"
Michel groaned, but Madras silently patted his shoulder.
"They're useful in combat, right? Maybe we can start trusting them
with more responsibility," Kross-Hansen said, though his face showed
concern.
"Don't think so. Michel, the Air Force and machine maintenance
come first."
"Got it..."
"Kross, refuel their man-machines too. They're running on empty."
"Right!"
"I can't leave Affranchi alone with them, so I'm heading over."
Madras slapped Kross's back and ran toward the prefab.
"We should keep an eye on things too. Bjor!"
This time it was Kross-Hansen who smacked Bjor's behind, sending
her after Madras.

4
Totto recounted how he had been treated as a political prisoner,
brought down to Earth by the MHA Gayjisu fleet to perform forced
labor in the development of the Nouveau Paris region.
"...What an absurdly antiquated strategy," Madras remarked with a
bitter smile.
"Well, sure, but it's brutal. They say Paris used to be quite the
metropolis back in the day, but now it's all submerged under a lake,
there’s nothing left at all. And get this, making space colony deportees
work just enough to cover their transport costs? That's all part of
MHA's population reduction scheme."
"Population reduction...?"
"Aligns perfectly with the Earth Federation government's original
policies, doesn't it? Now, through my own intelligence network, I've
uncovered what MHA's really planning. Once you hear this, Messer,
you won't have time to be so damn defiant anymore."
"Why's that? MHA's pushing forward with their Earth Settlement
Plan, right? I thought if we collaborated with them, something might
work out," Messer jabbed at Affranchi, still appearing attached to his
own plan.
"For heaven's sake, you think it's brilliant just because you came up
with it? Such naive thinking. Would you be fine losing this?" Totto
suddenly grabbed Messer's crotch, who had been leaning against the
wall.
"Cut that out!" Messer pulled back his hips, batting away the mans
hand, but anger burned in Totto's eyes.
"Seems like quite the intelligence network you have. What exactly
did you discover?" Affranchi inquired.
"Overheard it from the guards, and it's absolutely insane... Ever
heard of genetic cleansing?"
"You mean castration?" Affranchi cautiously asked.
"Yeah. I saw them myself the day I arrived at Nouveau Paris, men
who'd undergone it. They were like dolls, smooth and pristine, but
somehow... vacant. That's when I started to understand what kind of
organization MHA really is."
"You can't be serious. They're actually cutting off men's equipment
in this day and age?"
"That's the policy for anyone who can't make it as a MHA regular
soldier. Those of us cast off from the Earth Federation and dumped
planetside? That's our eventual fate."
"But what about the prisoners who were with my brother? They
haven't been...?"
"Obviously not. Why do you think they're still so energetic?"
"This is beyond belief..." Madras turned to Affranchi with a skeptical
expression.
"Yes..." Bjor's expression was equally uncertain.
"Well... There's no need for such wasteful, excessive measures.
They could just have robots do the work."
"Ah, but that's just it, Chief. Remember what I said? Population
reduction... Plus, there's MHA's aesthetics to consider. That's the real
trouble."
"Aesthetics?"
The word seemed ill-fitting coming from Totto.
"It's human supremacism, you see. Just like Chinese eunuchs, or
homosexuals and lesbians, historically speaking, they've all made their
aesthetic contributions, right? So naturally, a group with that mindset
would reject using robots."
"Quite the secondhand education you've got there."
"I told you, didn't I? That professor among the prisoners? He taught
me all this," Totto retorted to Messer's sarcasm.
"Ah... that professor they beat up... Say, what about the women?
Do they take their wombs?"
"Seems so. They say they'll never bear children or age... That's
MHA's aesthetics for you... Heh! Hehehe..."
Having shared what he considered his duty to report, Totto seemed
to relax. His rigid posture loosened.
"Their methodology certainly aligns with population control
theories. Rather than being uniquely MHA's idea, it seems like
something someone would eventually attempt... But why is MHA
going to such extremes?"
"It's about building a new empire, isn't it? And for that, they need
to select their ideal human specimens?" Madras questioned Totto.
"Yeah... I heard them mention something specific, the 'Gaia
Emperor.' Apparently, it's about making Earth independent from the
space colony alliance. But this isn't like what everyone's been thinking,
you know, where they just let Earth Federation government bigwigs
from the space colonies settle down and do as they please. Like you
said, they're selecting for specific human traits, and above all, there's
this 'MHA aesthetics' thing."
"Is this connected to why they chose Europe as their bridgehead?"
Bjor interjected.
"Exactly. Partly because it's humanity's cultural center, but there's
more. Captain Dargol, MHA's boss? He's obsessed with Wagner and
plans to make Bavaria the spiritual sanctuary of the Gaia Emperor.
They're starting by taking control eastward from Nouveau Paris."
"Wagner?"
The name meant nothing to Affranchi.
"The professor mentioned him. Said Wagner was a decent
composer back in the old century, but he was too provincial, only
wrote music that attracted strange folks," Totto concluded with a hint
of pride, playing the role of a commoner showing off his knowledge.
"Hmm..."
Affranchi felt he was finally hearing the core motivation behind
MHA's actions, something he'd never learned through Metatron.
"This is ridiculous. Metatron gave that man-machine the name
'Gaia Gear' simply because 'Gaia' was a beautiful name, the Earth
Goddess. How dare a group like MHA twist it into something like
'Gaia Empire,'" Madras protested, sounding more like a passionate
youth than his years would suggest.
"But Madras... remember that the goddess Gaia herself was born
from Chaos, from pure disorder. Perhaps this was one possible
destiny," Affranchi responded, momentarily forgetting about Krishna
as he tempered Madras's outburst. He made a mental note that he
would need to investigate both Wagner and Bavaria further.
Chapter.03
Fall in Love

Several days had passed.

When Krishna awoke, she noticed the room was slightly too warm.
Likely because both the window and door remained firmly shut.
Human thoughts don't always flow in neat, logical patterns.
"..."
She felt relieved that the pain throughout her body had
considerably diminished. She carefully turned her head on the pillow,
testing her range of motion.
The wallpaper pattern seemed out of place for a hospital...
French windows dominated one wall.
Sunlight filtered through their curtains, creating lazy circles of
warmth that circulated through the room.
“It’s spring, isn’t it?"
The furniture arranged on the opposite side of the bed showed
signs of age, but had clearly been well-maintained.
"I have to get up..."
She forced herself to verbalize the thought she least wanted to
consider.
It ranked equally with another unwelcome question: where exactly
was she?
She had regained consciousness several times before reaching this
level of mental clarity.
And she felt as though she'd experienced a flood of dreams.
Yet her last true memory was being ejected from the Air Force,
colliding with a tree, and then... now.
Everything else felt fragmented, disconnected.
Considering what she might have to face next, it would be safer to
just stay here, greedily consuming more sleep in this bed.
She knew she must be somewhere under the jurisdiction of MHA,
the direct enemy of Metatron, her anti-Earth Federation government
organization.
Of course, while the Earth Federation Forces was supposedly
Metatron's primary adversary, the reality was somewhat different.
MHA, originally a specialized police organization within the
Federation government, had begun to assert influence even over the
central government. They now effectively controlled the Federation
Forces, which had devolved into little more than a job-placement
agency.
And Krishna had been rescued by Ul Urian, an officer from MHA's
Man-Machine Corps.
As she slid her lower body to the edge of the bed, the lingering
pain confirmed that all her limbs were intact.
"Ah, I can move...!"
While this brought her joy, she felt dejected about her own
fragility, so why had she slept for so long?
"Beautiful..."
Peering through the French windows, she saw a well-ordered
garden dominated by a willow tree, surrounded by meticulous rows of
rose bushes.
Though the window was locked from the outside, its construction
seemed crude enough that she could probably force it open if
necessary.
There was a living room next door.
Empty...
While the thought of surveillance cameras made her tense, they
weren't visibly obvious, so Krishna entered the bathroom and boldly
stripped off her pajamas.
She remembered the nurse who had dressed her in what appeared
to be military-issue clothing. Recalling the woman's cold demeanor...
Frustrated by the consciousness of being watched, she tried to act
as normally as possible.
A massive mirror covered the wall opposite the bathtub.
She examined her full reflection.
Considerable bruising marked her body, but the marks had already
begun to blend into her brown skin. The scrapes on her back weren't
deep either.
As relief washed over her, she couldn't help but admire the beauty
of her brown-tinged skin.
That moment of self-assurance prompted her to turn on the
shower full blast, attempting to wash away her current anxieties.
But as the hot water stung her bruises and scrapes, it served as a
sharp reminder of the harsh reality that awaited her.
2

The intercom chimed just as Krishna stepped out of the bathroom,

as if it had been waiting for precisely that moment.
She felt no particular aversion to such surveillance. After all, she
was a captive here. Not letting such circumstances breed resentment,
that was her philosophy of life. Growing up in the slums of the space
colonies, she'd learned long ago that letting trivial pride or shame
cloud your judgment was a swift path to corruption. She firmly
believed that there were certain principles one must maintain even in
the direst circumstances, and letting emotions sharpen needlessly
would only lead to poor decisions.
"Yes... whatever you have available will be fine, thank you," she
responded to the inquiry about meals.
During her circuit of the room, a female soldier brought in her
meal. It consisted of what appeared to be porridge, accompanied by
scrambled eggs mixed with bacon and ham, with a side of steamed
vegetables.
"Would you like anything else? I can bring more if it's not enough."
Krishna, noting the two types of juice provided, felt quite satisfied.
"Thank you, but I'm curious. Where should I have the bill sent?" The
last words were a subtle probe directed at her captors.
"That's under different jurisdiction, I'm afraid I wouldn't know," the
woman replied. Unlike most Waves who typically maintained minimal
conversation while executing their duties, she seemed more talkative.
"I see... While this treatment seems rather unusual for a prisoner,
I'm genuinely grateful for the hospitality."
"You're free to leave this room, you know? Strange situation, isn't
it?" The Wave remarked casually before departing.
Indeed, it was exactly as the Wave had said. Krishna finished her
meal contemplating this peculiarity, then decided to venture outside
the room.
The immaculately swept corridor reminded her of a deserted
countryside hotel. She could walk straight to the entrance and across
the gravel courtyard without anyone stopping her.
The building must have been several centuries old, genuine stone
construction, not the molded plastic typical of space colonies.
The sound of metal work caught her attention from the left.
An ancient-looking man, possibly over a hundred years old, dressed
in a worn suit with frayed elbows, was pruning rose bushes.
"Hello..."
"Ahyup..."
The old man proved equally taciturn.
"I'm new here, but this building is quite lovely, isn't it?"
The old man crouched down, disappearing from her line of sight.
The snipping sounds continued near the base of the bushes.
"...Used to belong to some Federation Forces bigwig," came his
delayed response, long after she had forgotten she'd asked.
A single willow tree in the back garden had burst into fresh spring
growth, its cascading branches painted in beautiful lines of verdant
green.
While the garden had iron railings, one side was blocked by a row
of antiquated apartments, all deserted. The other side opened onto
gently rolling pastureland where a small herd of cattle and sheep
stood motionless.
The overhead sunlight enveloped everything in a warmth that
hinted at approaching heat, creating an eerily quiet atmosphere.
Having grown accustomed to the constant background hum of the
space colony, this afternoon garden stroll allowed silence to seep into
the very core of her being.
Chirp-chirp-chirp!
"Oh..."
Finally catching the sound of birdsong and wingbeats, Krishna
searched for their source.
At the main entrance stood a guard post with the shadow of a
Federation Forces regulation uniform visible inside.
"Going somewhere?"
A soldier, fresh-faced enough to seem straight out of training,
called out to her.
"Just taking a walk. Is that allowed?"
"Go right ahead."
The young soldier opened the small gate in front of the
guardhouse.
"Watch out for the stray dogs."
"Right..."
The soldier had misinterpreted Krishna's puzzled expression and
offered this warning instead.
The road stretched hundreds of meters in both directions, with a
densely wooded median casting shadows between the lanes.
The untended trees gave off an unruly impression.
The asphalt was severely cracked, with weeds sprouting through
the fissures, their dead stalks forming lines across the surface.
"Has it been left untouched since the forced migrations during the
early space colony era?"
While Krishna's assumption wasn't unreasonable, the neglect
wasn't quite that ancient.
This town had its own cycle, people would settle here illegally, only
to be arrested by the Federation government's special police force
known as Manhunters.
Yes, these special police were the predecessor to MHA.
The side facing the pasture was separated by only a token fence,
more symbolic than functional.
The opposite side was lined with uninhabited apartment blocks
and what appeared to be private residences.
A deep mechanical roar cut through the silence as something
massive approached from an intersecting street, the unmistakable
sound of military machinery. Though she couldn't yet see the source,
the ground beneath her feet trembled with each advancing moment.
She leaned against the fence, backing toward the pasture. In an
explosive instant, a cloud of dust erupted from the corner barely
twelve meters to her right. Through the billowing debris emerged a
massive metal behemoth.
Her breath caught. The machine dwarfed any conventional tank
she'd seen, its bulk so immense it simply pushed aside the substantial
trees in the median strip like twigs. The grinding of metal against
wood filled the air as the steel giant executed a precise ninety-degree
turn.
While it moved on caterpillar treads, the machine's smooth motion
suggested hover capabilities as well. Once aligned with the straight
stretch, the rectangular bulk surged forward with impossible speed,
bearing down on Krishna before halting with a shuddering groan of
stressed metal.
The screech of steel against asphalt sent fragments skittering past
her feet. Krishna's muscles tensed as she took in the towering vehicle.
It seemed cobbled together from multiple blocks, giving it a distinctly
alien appearance. The rear section loomed like an industrial crane,
adding to its threatening profile.
A metallic impact resonated from within the machine, followed by
the whir of internal mechanisms. The sound of shifting weight
overhead drew her gaze upward just as a dark figure emerged.
"Are you unharmed?"
"Yes?"
Backlit by the harsh sun, Ul Urian's sharp, commanding features
looked down upon her from above.
3

The figure on the upper deck moved with fluid grace, sliding down
the ladder-like structure along the side. He traced a path across the
air intake and caterpillar cover before landing with practiced ease
before Krishna.
"I... I'm sorry to have caused you concern... thank you," she said,
taking a small step back as she met Ul's intense gaze, squinting
slightly against the glare.
"Why didn't you run?"
"Run? I--"
The question made Krishna suddenly conscious of her position.
"Check the engine. After that, we'll have dinner at Maison Orly," Ul
commanded.
"Yes, sir!"
The troops who had appeared atop the vehicle dispersed to either
side of the hull at his word.
"Let's walk."
His hand brushed her waist, guiding her toward the building she
had emerged from, Maison Orly.
"Why is that?"
"You mean why I didn't escape?"
"Yes..."
"Well, I'm not fully recovered yet, and I don't know the area... I'd
need to research things first before attempting anything like that."
"That makes sense."
Still wearing his helmet, Ul showed Krishna his first genuine smile,
teeth flashing white.
"I think I heard in a dream that you were demoted because of that
last operation. That was about you, wasn't it?"
"That's right. Made contact with the Gaia Gear but let it slip away.
Lost an allied unit too. That's why I got this, the Bushing Nugg. Made
me its captain."
"Must be disappointing for a pilot to be relegated to ground
operations?"
Krishna offered this common perspective.
"But this is a man-machine ground support tank. I can tinker with
man-machines whenever I want, so it doesn't feel much different."
"Then you've just gotten more work, haven't you?"
"True. Especially since one of the man-machines is the Bromb
Texter."
"Your man-machine?"
Krishna recalled the agile machine from that battle, now
understanding why it had moved with such precision, it perfectly
matched Ul's style.
"The Bushing Nugg has deck space for three man-machines, plus
maintenance parts."
"I see..."
"It's more than just a carrier. How should I put it... it's interesting.
The beam barrier system has been perfected too."
"Hehe... you're like a child with a new toy."
Krishna felt a warmth in her chest as she gazed up at Ul's striking
profile. He seemed more mature now than when they'd met at the
Helas colony in Side 2, where he'd drifted in on a glider.
"A toy?"
Ul's expression shifted to mock offense before he burst into hearty
laughter.
The sudden sound made Krishna flinch involuntarily, her body
reacting to deeply buried childhood memories. She'd learned early
that when adults laughed so openly, it often preceded sudden
violence or angry outbursts, a crude intimidation tactic used by the
oppressed adults in her world. It was a cowardly method, but in the
slums where she grew up, such adults were all she knew. Ul's
unreserved laughter, despite his refined upbringing, struck too close
to those memories.
"Hmm?"
Ul's laughter faded as he noticed her reaction.
She hurriedly plastered on a forced smile.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh... I just wondered if you should be so casual with someone like
me..."
Krishna glanced back at the massive machine as she spoke.
"I appreciate your concern, but you're overthinking things. You've
had it rough, haven't you?"
Ul's expression took on a knowing look, the eager wisdom of a
young man trying to show his empathetic side.
"Yes... that's true."
"There's no need to be afraid. You've been cleared of all charges.
You're free to do as you please."
The words struck Krishna as utterly unexpected.
"But I'm a Metatron crew member. The interrogation..."
They had reached the gates of Maison Orly as she spoke.
"About that… I owe you an apology. What I'm about to tell you
might make you hate me, but I don't want to lie or hide anything..."
Ul stopped walking and removed his helmet, carefully gauging her
reaction.
Krishna remained silent.
"Everything we know about Metatron came from your testimony.
So, well... they've lost interest in you."
"What do you mean?"
Krishna struggled to process his words.
"Hypnosis. When you regained consciousness, we used suggestive
hypnosis. Afterward, we erased your memory of being hypnotized.
That's what we did."
"I... see..."
Krishna stood dumbfounded.
A violent tremor ran through her body as the sense of violation
took hold.
Though she caught a flicker of remorse in Ul Urian's eyes, she fled
from his gaze, rushing up the steps to Maison Orly's entrance.
"How could you!"
It was all she could think to say.
She ran down the straight corridor from the entrance, not stopping
until she reached the veranda overlooking the back garden.
The railing finally halted her flight.
A sudden gust of wind stirred the willow branches before her, as if
in sympathy with her turmoil.

She stood in silence.

Even she wasn't certain how much of her own past she truly
remembered. But if others had ways to access memories unknown
even to herself, so wouldn't that fundamentally distort the very nature
of existence?
This philosophical musing helped steady her turbulent emotions as
she fixed her gaze on the willow tree with its fresh spring leaves.
Without this anchor, she knew she might give in to despair and flee.
Yet even with the declaration of her innocence, she questioned the
wisdom of hasty departure. Patience was needed now. This calculated
restraint helped her maintain composure.
"Will you... will you refuse to see me now?"
She had heard Ul's approaching footsteps, sensed his presence.
She'd even caught his hesitant breath before he spoke those words.
"Will you refuse to see me now?"
Krishna felt as if those words had struck the back of her head. Her
body swayed forward over the railing.
"Of course I will!"
She hurled the words at the ground visible in her downturned
gaze.
"What pleasure do you take in excavating a past I don't even
know? Knowing things about me that even I don't..."
Though she addressed the ground, every word was meant for Ul
behind her.
"It was only Metatron-related information. We didn't extract
anything else... In fact, MHA's organization respects Metatron's
cautiousness. They compartmentalize their organization so thoroughly
that no single crew member knows the full picture. You only spoke
about things you consciously understood."
Krishna felt an unexpected warmth in his tone that made her
slowly turn toward him. Yet seeing his intense expression, she knew
she still couldn't accept this.
"Earlier, you said you had no interest in me."
"As Metatron staff. You personally are different... Regarding the
information you shared, you gave quite accurate data about the
airspace where you trained in man-machine operation. However, we
couldn't pinpoint its location."
Krishna's heart jumped at his words.
The positions of the moon, Earth, and constellations are crucial for
navigation. Knowing these would make location identification simple.
"You're still a rookie pilot. You've only been trained to determine
position using the mothership, moon, and Earth as reference points.
You never mentioned constellations. In that sense, you're not yet an
accomplished pilot."
Krishna found herself nodding at his explanation while fixating on
the movement of his well-formed lips.
"..."
"The hypnosis must have exhausted you. You slept for four days."
"..."
"If you're determined to leave, you'll need various supplies. I'll
arrange them. But don't rejoin Metatron."
"I suppose not."
Though part of her felt regret, Krishna still bristled at his words.
"Don't be angry. Now that we can deploy the Bushing Nugg, MHA
will operate independently of the Earth Federation Forces methods.
The purges will become more severe."
"What do you mean?"
"As an independent organization, MHA plans to establish its own
empire, the Gaia Emperor, to counter the space colony alliance. We'll
build an empire of new humanity on Earth, carefully managed to avoid
mankind's past mistakes. They'll even implement isolation policies
against those trying to descend from space colonies."
"Are they serious?"
"It's historical necessity. While the empire's name is still under
discussion... the Earth isolation policy will be implemented."
"But... they still need people, don't they?"
"Of course. However, the system will exclude the incompetent and
resistant elements, accepting only capable collaborators."
"...So I'm to be excluded?"
"I can protect you now. I have the Captain's approval."
Krishna found herself unable to look away from Ul's intense gaze.
"Is that my only path to survival..."
"Nothing's certain. I believe human potential is quite broad. But
joining Metatron would be unwise."
Krishna remembered how once, when Affranchi Char heard her
breathing, it had reminded him of another woman. In that instant, she
had instinctively rejected everything about him, thinking, "Affranchi is
a man who has nothing to do with someone like me..."
Contrary to that sense of inadequacy, here was the youth who had
infiltrated the Spasias for reconnaissance at Side 2's "Helas," now
grown into a man...
Perhaps it was the workings of time, or more likely, the necessary
preparation for their hearts to draw closer. Such time is needed
between a boy and a girl.
And now that time seemed ripe. Even if it was an illusion, Krishna
found herself wanting to cling to it.
"Yes..."
She let out a small breath before asking,
"Could I rest for a while?"
Chapter.04
Joe in Liège

Air Force 1, Madras' unit, descended even lower as it penetrated

the airspace above Liège, once Belgian territory, now a city consumed
by verdant overgrowth.
"It's unsettling to see an abandoned city. Feels like we might see
ghosts."
Joe found even Michel’s voice irritating.
The two sat on either side of Captain Madras in the cockpit. To
keep himself from snapping at Michel, he focused on the rolling hills
passing beneath his window.
Krishna consumed his thoughts entirely. He was aware of his own
heightened nerves because of it.
There had been no word from her.
While the European district was said to have the highest
population of illegal Earth residents, the infrastructure hadn't been
restored enough to support life as it had been at the end of the
previous century, making communication impossible.
If that situation somehow brought him one step closer to Krishna,
he could accept it.
But Joe's hopes were betrayed.
Today's Air Force 1 flight path had circumvented the Danish
territory where Krishna had disappeared, continuing south to arrive
here instead.
Neither Madras nor anyone else showed any intention of searching
for her.
His companions' attitude only fueled Joe's irritation.
"This area used to be prime land, you know. That's why both
Germany and France coveted it."
Michel bristled at Madras's flippant remark.
"Here we go!"
Madras shouted.
The natural forest expanded rapidly in Air Force 1's front
windscreen as they descended toward the wasteland on the outskirts
of Liège, as if about to collide with the trees.
The craft bounced several times as the brakes engaged, violent
tremors rocking the bridge.
"Is this safe?!" Joe's shout was unnecessarily loud.
"What's wrong?"
Madras asked, already releasing the control stick despite the
intense vibrations.
The aircraft's nose plowed into the forest edge before coming to
rest.
For Madras, it was a routine landing, but Joe's hysteric outburst
had startled him.
"No... it's nothing. Sorry."
Embarrassed by his own outburst, he hastily stood to escape
Madras's puzzled stare and made his way to open the bay cabin
hatch.
"Did you know? During the First World War in the last century,
when the German army of 120,000 violated the neutrality treaty and
invaded, 40,000 Belgian troops resisted for over ten days right here in
Liège."
"Oh really? You must have studied that in the book you were
reading last night?"
Michel responded.
"You're annoying. Just quietly listening to your elders would make
us old folks happy enough."
Madras gave a wry smile, then asked, "How is he?"
referring to Joe who had disappeared into the bay cabin.
"Love sickness. He can't forget about Krishna."
"That's the trouble with serious types. We even have cute girls like
Bjor back at Hamar..."
"He doesn't even see them."
"Was it really like that? With Krishna?"
Madras opened the hatch beside the bridge and climbed down
onto the weed-covered ground to inspect the aircraft.
"You know how it is... Sometimes you don't realize you're in love
until they're gone. That's what this is."
Michel jumped down from the craft after him.
"Looking good. Get the man-machine to camouflage the aircraft."
"Yes, sir!"
Air Force 1 sat with its nose buried in the forest, having crushed
down the overgrown weeds beneath it.
2

"It's just as you can see. The acid rain damage is still visible in these
trees."
Michel ventured into the forest, examining the trees.
"The space colony era began over a hundred years ago. Aren't
those just regular dead trees?"
"Natural die-off doesn't happen like this in this region. Look, they're
completely withered down to the roots, all dried up."
"Huh. Amazing they're still standing."
Madras looked up at the cluster of dead trees he indicated, letting
out a thoughtful grunt.
"When did this rain fall?"
"Must be from at least fifty years ago."
"Where would such rain even come from?"
"Remember when I said this was good land? The soil itself is
contaminated with chemicals. Even the greening from excessive
fertilizer isn't natural."
"Hmm, I see."
"Haven't you noticed how few birds and insects there are? You
know, the European continent has a history of deforestation and
reforestation since humans began farming here. They've been
repeating this cycle for over three thousand years."
Michel strode purposefully through the sparse undergrowth while
Madras watched from atop a fallen tree.
"So, the Earth's forests weren't natural to begin with?"
"Virgin forests disappeared almost instantly by the latter half of the
twentieth century. Even before that, this area was already artificial
forest."
Michel stopped, surveyed his surroundings, then headed back
toward Madras.
"So what? It's the same as space colonies then?"
"That's probably why we accepted space migration so easily. We
were confident we could create forests with artificial soil. Moreover,
advances in biotechnology and science in general made humans
overconfident."
"And that's what destroyed Earth? Modern humans were arrogant
toward nature."
"Please don't say MHA represents that!"
Michel stopped beneath the fallen tree, looking up at Madras.
"But... couldn't you say MHA was created by a bunch of specialized
fools gathering together?"
"Hehehe... You mean people wanted to pilot man-machines so
badly that they needed companies and organizations to manufacture
them?"
"It's about the social environment that creates such needs. It's like
sailors, or the people who built space colonies, they just loved
building massive things."
"That's true."
Michel sighed. He understood the nature of scientists all too well.
"The biggest cause was medical advancement leading to abnormal
population growth. That produced the worst results."
Madras jumped down from the fallen tree and headed back toward
Air Force 1.
"It's an uncomfortable truth, but humanity managed to completely
pollute Earth in just fifty years, from the twentieth to early twenty-
first century."
Ahead of them, three man-machines were covering Madras's craft
with branches and propping fallen trees against it.
This wasn't work suited for man-machines.
"Hey! What's so interesting about making man-machines carry
trees?"
Keran stuck his upper body out of the cockpit hatch, scowling as
he complained.
"The mismatched scenery is entertaining to watch."
Madras glanced at the hatches of the two identical machines
following Keran's, understanding that he was voicing complaints on
their behalf.
"That's enough! Go scout ahead. We'll investigate the city area by
bike."
"Roger! Regroup in an hour?"
"Right."
"Keran, we can't get the bikes out. Move that tree by the hatch."
Michel, climbing up to the bridge, shouted when he found the
cabin hatch blocked by a propped-up tree.
"Understood! Saes! Handle it!"
"Huh?"
Saes, who had been equipping his machine with shields, poked his
head out of the hatch with a lackadaisical response.
"Shape up! Shape up! Rey! I wasn't asking you!"
Keran bellowed through the external speakers.
If anyone had been nearby, maintaining secrecy would have been
impossible. But Keran was the type who rarely considered such
things.
Rey's machine, which had moved to remove the tree instead of
Saes, stopped sluggishly.
"Rey, get ready."
Saes's husky voice came through the external speakers as his
machine began moving one of the trees propped against Air Force 1.
"That'll do."
As Madras was climbing up to the bridge, Keran's machine bent
down to approach him, and he leaned out of the hatch to ask:
"Why does Affranchi like those types?"
"Ah... Maybe because he's an island-bred country boy, he sees us
as organizational men and dislikes that? It's a reaction to that."
"I consider myself a city man, you know."
"Hmm. I was just discussing this with Michel, city people are
humans isolated from nature. We were talking about how that might
have led to Earth's destruction."
Madras stood at the bridge hatch, explaining to the stern-faced
Keran.
"Yeah... The raw, unrefined state of nature is kind of unsettling."
"That's exactly the problematic modern sensibility."
"In that sense, MHA is impressive. Trying to build an independent
nation on this rough Earth."
"But if humanity multiplies on Earth again, regeneration would be
impossible."
"Understanding that logic is why we're doing this dangerous work,
isn't it?"
Keran retreated into his cockpit, smoothly moving his Dochadi
away from above Madras's head.
The three Dochadi advanced, trampling the meters-high weeds,
then ignited their tail nozzles and vanished into the southern sky.

Joe and Madras rode electric motorcycles, silent machines with

power equivalent to 150cc gasoline engines, capable of running
continuously for six hours.
The bikes zigzagged through the tall grass, erasing the tracks left by
Air Force 1's landing as they went. After completing this task, both
bikes headed toward the city of Liège.
Historic cities like this typically harbored illegal residents. Madras
and Joe's mission was to locate such people and gather intelligence
on MHA.
The city's neo-classical architecture of brick and stone had become
a warren of unchecked vegetation growing wherever it pleased. Yet,
looking carefully, one could spot traces of human passage.
Wheel tracks, when found, indicated the presence of MHA's
"Manhunter Units," the sweeper teams that regularly came to
apprehend illegal Earth residents.
However, the roads along both banks of the Meuse River that
bisected the city showed no such signs.
"What a stench..."
The dead river's putrid smell permeated the air. Joe bristled at the
odor, deciding that keeping his body in motion would help steady his
nerves.
"The river must have changed course somewhere upstream."
Madras remarked grimly.
He brought his bike to a halt along a path bordered by ivy-covered
stone walls. Several frogs hopped across the cracked asphalt.
"Music! Joe! Kill the engine!"
They had reached an intersection, and a breeze had carried the
sound to them.
"What? Really?"
Joe's previously vacant expression snapped to attention.
"Lost it..."
Madras clicked his tongue as the wind died.
"This way."
Madras turned right at the corner and continued straight along the
sidewalk.
"They're using camouflage..."
Joe looked where Madras had indicated with his chin.
"Ah...!"
The path appeared deliberately obscured by dead grass, yet
showed signs of foot traffic.
"?!"
Joe's consciousness finally sharpened to match that of a frontline
soldier.
"Wait! Isn't that a sheet?"
A window on the fourth floor of a building stood open. While not
unusual in an abandoned city, something white flickered in the
shadowed interior.
"A sheet?"
Madras reversed his bike to look up in the direction Joe pointed.
"You're right. A sheet."
Madras dismounted as he spoke, with Joe following suit. They
concealed their bikes in the building's shadow.
"You think someone's there?"
"Definitely... They must be aware of us. Either they forgot about
the sheet, or they know Air Force 1 isn't MHA's."
"But we landed quite far away. Could they hear the engines from
here?"
"Depends on the wind. On Earth, sound can travel incredible
distances when it's quiet."
Madras stopped at a position diagonal to the building across the
street, where he could observe it clearly.
The ground floor showed remnants of two shops, what appeared
to be a grocery and a general store. A wooden bar sign hung facing
the alley beside one of them.
"That's it... It's an operating establishment."
"The Louvain? How can you tell it's running?"
"See the alley beside the sign... The way the paper trash has
collected in the wind, doesn't it look a bit too deliberate?"
Now that Madras mentioned it, Joe could see it too, though there
wasn't a hint of human presence. The century-abandoned shop had
lost all its glass, and ivy seemed to have invaded the interior.
"We'll come back tonight."
Madras gave Joe a gentle push toward the bikes as they retreated.

Keran's team hadn't conducted an extensive reconnaissance.

They'd found nothing.
"Intel at Hamar suggested MHA was aggressively securing the
north. Was that a lie? Maybe we shouldn't have trusted someone
sketchy like Totto Göring..."
Keran was sulking, but he fell silent when he noticed Rey and
Saes's sharp glares. To the duo, Totto, whom Messer had brought, was
their "big brother."
"This northern region is Germany. Given its history as an industrial
powerhouse in the last century, its territory MHA absolutely must
control."
Madras popped the last bite of his bacon sandwich into his mouth
and reached for his coffee.
"But can they really make Earth completely independent from the
space colonies?"
Saes asked skeptically.
It was a simple question, but his doubts were natural. Since space
migration had taken root, implemented to address urgent Earth
pollution and population issues, conventional wisdom held that living
on Earth was troublesome.
Unlike the pre-modern economic structure that had to expand
while fearing environmental pollution, the space colony era offered
infinite space as its stage. This guaranteed unlimited expansion of
human economic activity, normalizing life in artificial environments.
As a result, people generally came to view Earth as a sanctuary,
meant only for regeneration as humanity's birthplace.
Neither Saes nor Rey had found direct contact with Earth's nature
particularly pleasant. Though the meal on Ireland's coast had been
delicious, they saw it as an environment they couldn't adapt to.
This sentiment, beyond just meeting Totto, had contributed to their
return to Affranchi. Humanity had transformed.
"Make it like Earth used to be. That's all there is to it."
Madras said simply.
"Since our ancestors did it, we can restore it, right?"
That was Keran.
"Yes. And within another hundred years, Earth will again be on
death's door from pollution. But humans originated on Earth, so Earth
migration tickles something instinctual in us. Give this bait to anyone,
ideologist or rationalist, and they'll defect to MHA. That's why,
conversely, MHA plans to exercise authority, select people, and
maintain Earth with an appropriate population."
"The logic makes sense, eh? We're just deadweight."
"Don't deprecate yourself like that."
Madras raised his voice at Saes's dismissive words.
"Listen, Saes. MHA alone wouldn't be a problem. But what
happens when MHA establishes its independent Earth nation?"
"That's fine. We can live in the space colonies."
"It's not that simple. Human thinking is influenced by and expands
upon ideas. If humanity starts believing MHA's population selection
policy is correct, every space colony will begin selecting people. Then
you'll have slaves, workers, merchants, politicians, bureaucrats... a rigid
class society."
"Priests and thugs too. Born a thug, die a thug?"
"That'd be terrible."
Rey took Saes's attempt at levity seriously.
"It would be terrible. Like the Dark Ages. Witch hunts, Red Purges,
slavery, all of it."
"So Metatron wants to crush organizations like MHA and preserve
Earth completely?"
Rey concluded.
"Exactly. Lose Earth, and our understanding of human existence
crumbles."
"But I don't want to die for that."
"Then head back to space and loaf around again?"
Rey's face darkened at Keran's words.
"Stop teasing. They're finally developing a sense of purpose. Ready
to move out?"
Madras checked his watch and called to everyone.
"Right... This time, you two take point. Got it?"
Madras addressed Saes and Rey specifically.
Joe, fretting over his civilian clothes, grew frustrated with his
flagging spirits.
"It's a mission. No point in endless worrying."
With Keran and Michel staying behind, Madras, Joe, Rey, and Saes
departed on four bikes equipped on Air Force 1.
The season had turned mild, the air barely cooling even as night
fell.
Chapter.05
At the Tavern

The insect chorus rang out vigorously from unseen corners of the
ruined city. Unlike the clean impression of the forest, their presence
suggested to Madras that Earth's environmental upheaval had altered
even insect behavior, driving them to colonize urban spaces.
Madras, Joe, Saes, and Rey advanced with tense shoulders through
the dew-dampened grass that had sprouted between the
cobblestones.
As Madras began to cross the street after scanning the building
silhouettes floating in the darkness, Joe touched his arm.
"I hear music."
Madras sensed Joe's growing timidity.
A female vocal track drifted through the darkness, barely audible,
like something crawling through the night.
"Can't dance to something like this."
Rey muttered this to Saes.
"...?!"
Joe's nerves frayed even at this casual comment.
But Rey was afraid of the darkness too. She stayed close enough
to feel Saes's body heat, making such remarks to steady her own
nerves.
"Captain?!"
Joe halted Madras as a streak of light flashed before them.
Madras's flashlight had briefly illuminated the Louvain sign before
clicking off.
That momentary light only made the darkness feel more absolute.
Joe's right hand brushed against rough cast iron, a handrail. Below
it lay an area well accessing the basement, from which a faint light
leaked.
"Alright..."
Saes and Rey, still moving as a pair, overtook Madras and Joe as
they rounded the building's corner.
"Nothing to fear once you know people are here."
Rey's voice carried a hint of excitement as their pace quickened
through the weeds.
"At this point, better leave it to them."
Madras said, trying to soothe Joe's unease.

"This is the spot." Saes's voice emerged from the darkness between
the buildings.
Madras and Joe peered toward the source of the voice, but the
absence of light made them question Saes's words.
"There's a usable bike lying on its side among the alley weeds,"
Saes continued.
The darkness in the two-meter gap between buildings was thick
with the pungent smell of rotting vegetation.
"...This way. There's stairs."
"Is it safe?"
"Yeah... it's dry. People have been through here."
Joe found their animal-like behavior unsettling, their movements
too predatory for his taste.
"No way..." Saes's muffled voice came from slightly below and
ahead of Joe.
"...?"
A rusty metal fitting creaked, and suddenly a dim red light revealed
Saes's tall figure and Rey's pale face floating in the darkness. Saes's
right arm wrapped around Rey's waist, concealing his pistol from the
front.
"...?!"
Madras and Joe tensed as low voices filtered out from inside the
building.
"Just passing through... didn't catch any names..." Saes was saying,
playing his part. "But someone told me if you come to this town, this
is the place to get a decent meal."
As he spoke, Saes made a show of kissing Rey, the gun now hidden
against the small of his back.
Another low male voice responded from inside.
"Thanks. You really helped us out," Rey called out cheerfully, still
pressed against Saes's shoulder as they disappeared through the
doorway.
Madras and Joe followed them down the stairs.
"You people!"
A sharp voice cut through the reddish light.
From over Madras's shoulder, Joe caught sight of a man training a
gun on them, positioned between them and Saes and Rey.
"They're with us," Madras stated, gripping the edge of the door
before the man could close it.
"They're my friends," Saes added from behind the man.
"You didn't say there were four of you."
"You never asked how many," Rey snapped, feigning indignation.
"You meant to deceive us from the start."
Though gaunt-faced and thin, the man's eyes glinted sharply from
deep-set sockets, and his muscular frame appeared lithe.
"You think we could get this far fighting against MHA?" Madras
challenged, getting right in the man's face as if willing to bet
thousands of dollars on a single play.
"...?"
Uncertainty flickered in the man's eyes.
"Jacob!"
A middle-aged woman rushed out from the back.
"Fares! What do you make of these people?"
Before the thin man could finish his question, Saes stepped in front
of the woman who had run out.
"You think we could get this far fighting against MHA?" Madras
challenged, getting right in the man's face as if willing to bet
thousands of dollars on a single play.
"...?"
Uncertainty flickered in the man's eyes.
Then came a knock at the door.
"You two need to leave," Jacob said to Madras and his companion
before opening it.
"Mind if I drop in?"
At the sound of that voice, Madras and Joe spun around
reflexively.
"?!"
In the red lighting, Joe realized he recognized the sharp features of
the young man's face.
"Who told you about this place?"
"I was told to mention Reutlingen?"
As the young man answered, Madras and Joe had already drawn
their weapons.
"He's MHA!" Madras shouted.
But his voice was overlapped by Saes's cry from behind.
"Krishna is here!"
"?!"
Joe's mind reeled in confusion.
"Ul! That was his name!" Madras suddenly remembered.
But by then, Ul Urian was already disappearing into the darkness of
the alley.
Madras tossed his flashlight into the air as he burst into the alley.
The falling light illuminated Ul's back.
A gunshot rang out.
Joe, though concerned about Saes, waited until the flashlight fell
and died in the weeds before turning back.
"What's going on!?"
"Rey is trying to catch Krishna."
Even as Saes spoke these words, he was already rushing toward
the back of the bar, where gunshots and screams had erupted.

Several shadowy figures burst out of the bar, colliding with each
other in their panic. Joe pushed against the flow, making his way into
what appeared to be the bar's lounge. A sharp crack split the air as
wood splinters exploded from the left pillar, spraying past his face.
"Ugh!"
A sharp pain lanced through the left side of his head.
"Krishna, why?!" Rey's voice cut through the screams and groans
from the right. On the floor, more than a dozen figures crawled on
their bellies, desperately trying to escape.
Joe pressed forward against the tide of fleeing patrons, keeping
low as he dove toward the center of the lounge.
"That's it, Joe! Go left! Behind the counter!"
Saes, crouched under a chair two seats away, and Rey, hidden
under a table further back, watched Joe's movements intently. A glass
tumbled nearby, amber liquid spattering across the floor as Joe
scrambled over several prone bodies.
"Police? Military?"
The patron's demanding question struck Joe's ears.
"Nothing like that! Krishna! It's Joe! Answer me if you're here!"
His shout echoed as he crawled under two tables. Bullets
concentrated on the spot right in front of him.
"Gah?!"
Joe covered his head with both hands, feeling something sticky on
his left palm. The heavy boom of Saes's gun thundered through the
space, its familiar report oddly reassuring to Joe's ears.
"MHA?!"
"Is it true?!"
Voices called out from the entrance, followed by the sound of
Rey's running footsteps. More gunshots followed her path as Joe
charged toward the left wall. The floor was a mess of spilled whiskey,
salami, salad, and dressing.
With a grunt of effort, Joe hurled a nearly-full whiskey bottle,
sending the bottles lined up on the counter crashing down.
"This isn't a lie, is it?!"
He called to Saes, who was advancing on his elbows, pressed
against the far right wall.
"Krishna is behind the counter."
"Saes! There's a back door!"
Rey's voice came from somewhere ahead of Saes.
"Krishna! Answer me!"
Joe couldn't help but verify what Saes and the others were saying.
He ran and threw himself stomach-first onto the counter.
"Who—!"
The gunshots roared in Joe's ears with deafening force, but
through the muzzle flash, he clearly saw Krishna's face.
Krishna was shooting at him. The shots missed.
In the dim light, Krishna's wide eyes, half-melded with the
shadows, were frozen in place, transfixed by Joe's gaze.
"Why?!"
Joe's body, contrary to his will, fell back into the lounge like a
ricocheting ball.
"Why would you?!"
He screamed as he rolled, knocking over tables. Another sharp
crack split the air as bullets struck the table Joe was using as cover.
Wood fragments exploded into dust, getting in his eyes.
"Damn it!"
Blinking rapidly, Joe glanced toward Saes and emptied his
magazine to provide cover fire. As Saes slid into position, Joe curled
into a ball, changing magazines across his stomach.
"Pull yourself together, Joe!"
"Working on it," Joe replied through his tears.
"Get down!"
Joe, left eye still closed and streaming tears, looked toward Fares's
voice. She was holding a submachine gun, sending a stream of bullets
hammering into the counter.
"Stop! That's my lover!"
Joe's desperate cry was futile. A wet, strangled sound like a
crushed frog came from behind the counter, followed by another
pained grunt.
"Our comrade is there! Don't shoot!"
Joe had risen to his feet.
"Joe!"
Madras, positioned next to Fares with her submachine gun, raised
his upper body above a table to reprimand him.
"Rey!"
"Yeah!"
Saes and Rey dove in from beside the counter. Joe rushed to the
counter where Krishna had been, peering over.
Empty.
A sharp click of Rey's tongue cut through the air, painfully real as
she ran toward Saes, who was trying to open what appeared to be a
hidden door leading to an adjacent room.
"They escaped through there?!"
"Damn!"
Saes pulled back as the sound of ricocheting bullets echoed several
times from beyond the door.
"Two escaped. Krishna too."
"Why was Krishna even here?"
"You saw her, didn't you?"
Saes, still breathing hard, checked Joe's neck and examined his
head and forehead.
"Bad wound?"
"No, just grazed," Saes reported to Madras, indicating the wound
on the side of Joe's head.
"So Krishna was with three others, and then that young man, Ul
Urian, showed up too?"
"When I first noticed Krishna, she looked really surprised and tried
to hide behind a man next to the counter, and then Rey..."
"When I asked what she was doing, one of the men sitting over
there asked if we were Metatron, and I shouldn't have reached for my
gun..."
Rey ran her fingers through her hair, raking it in frustration.
"Pietro, disinfect this Joe's head wound..."
Fares called out to a young man who was organizing the returning
patrons in the shadows of the entrance corridor.
"Ah, yes!"
Joe's ears were still ringing, and more than anything, he couldn't
calm his emotional turmoil as he sank heavily into the sofa.

"The two men at the counter, they're dead?" Madras asked Rey.
"Lost my cool. Even finished off the one who was still breathing,"
Rey replied, her face showing remorse.
She seemed impossibly energetic now, a stark contrast to her
earlier demeanor of darkness and timidity toward the
incomprehensible. When faced with concrete situations, her actions
became crystal clear.
"What are your orders, Captain?"
"Saes and Rey, take the bikes back to First. We'll follow shortly."
"Yes sir!" Saes responded without hesitation.
"Standby with the Dochadi. I'll request Keran's assistance."
As Madras pulled out the radio from his jacket, Saes and Rey
pushed their way through the crowd gathering at the entrance.
"What about the Minovsky particles?" Joe asked while Pietro, the
young man with refined features, cleaned the blood from his forehead
and hair.
"We're fine. That young man Ul clearly hadn't anticipated this
situation either... Hey, Madras here!" Madras ended up shouting into
the microphone.
"Ugh..." Joe winced as Pietro cleaned the wound where the wood
splinter had grazed him.
"Ngh..." The pain gave Joe space to think.
Krishna... she must have been attracted to Ul since their first
meeting...
With that realization, the situation started to make a little more
sense.
"And yet..." Joe thought, fighting through the sting of antiseptic on
his wound. He still couldn't fully accept it.
After all, she hadn't disliked Affranchi either.
"Do you know about the MHA that landed in Nouveau Paris?"
"Yeah. We've been pursuing that fleet," Joe answered as Fares
thrust her face close to his.
"Hmm. And?"
"And if MHA establishes an independent nation on Earth, the
planet's population will increase. We're here to prevent that."
"I see..."
"Keran Mead will be here shortly in a man-machine."
"A man-machine?" Fares questioned Madras accusingly as he
tucked the radio back into his inner pocket.
"We don't have a choice. MHA already knows about this place.
You're...?"
"Fares de Minne. I run this establishment and serve as a contact
point for the local anti-Earth Federation movement... I'll admit it. If
MHA's using our comrades' codes to scout us out, we'll have to
abandon this place."
"That's right."
"This MHA plan for Earth's independence, it differs from the Earth
Federation government's policies, doesn't it?"
"It's far more sinister. While they claim to consider Earth's
regeneration, their policies would introduce racial discrimination and a
class system, essentially reviving feudalism."
"That's what I thought. It would be disastrous if people started
currying favor with MHA to secure their privileges on Earth."
Fares's expression turned melancholic.
"Whatever kind of movement you're running, things are about to
get more complicated."
"Indeed... Jacob! Pietro! We're getting out of here."
"Got transportation?"
"We do... Are you people Metatron?"
"Yeah..."
"I'd heard you were a violent private army, but you seem different."
"Well, we've got guys like this one," Madras said with a wry smile,
eyes flitting to Joe.
"Let's go, Captain."
Joe stood up, tired of being the subject of conversation.
"Well then..."
Fares extended her hand, and Madras returned the handshake.
"Three Air Force units of the same type you saw this afternoon are
scheduled to rendezvous with us. If you're willing to cooperate, keep
an eye on our movements. An interesting young man named Affranchi
Char is in command. I'm Madras Caria, Fares."
"That's an old-fashioned name."
"I get that a lot."
Madras and Joe left through the same entrance they'd come in,
parting ways with Fares's group.
A distinctive rumbling drone cut through the air, approaching with
such intensity it seemed to dim the starlight.
"They're here!"
But it wasn't Keran Mead's Dochadi or Saes's group.
"Captain!" Joe's voice came out pathetically.
"This is what happens when you're indecisive, Krishna's gone over
to the enemy!"
As Madras spat these words, a strange, sharp whine pierced the air,
and searchlights swept across the weed-choked road, illuminating the
abandoned buildings.
Chapter.06
Cross Game

Madras and Joe weren't the only ones who reacted to the
searching beams of light. Onboard Air Force 1, Keran's Dochadi also
spotted the illumination.
"Tch!"
The instant Keran saw the light, his finger was already on the
missile trigger. The missiles mounted behind the Dochadi's shield
launched into the night.
He had to act fast, the homing systems could still lock on at this
range.
"...?!"
In the Bromb Texter, Ul had been operating the searchlight and
sensed the missiles' presence. Instead of climbing to escape as most
pilots would, he kept his nimble machine in a low-altitude flight path.
With a thunderous roar, the Bromb Texter's underbelly smashed
through an old apartment building's roof.
Two deafening explosions followed as the pursuing missiles
seemed to strike the Bromb Texter directly, but their excessive speed
made it impossible for them to adjust their trajectory quickly enough.
The missiles slammed into the ground structures with devastating
force. While the anti-aircraft missiles carried relatively small warheads,
their twin explosions cast ghostly silhouettes of the city buildings
against the darkness.
"Hmph!"
This was exactly as Keran had calculated. He launched a third
missile.
The projectile struck the Bromb Texter's shield near the shoulder
with a resounding impact, but thanks to the defensive barrier, it
wasn't a fatal blow to the machine.
"Damn!"
Ul, whose reflexes were practically superhuman, had launched his
own spread of missiles just before taking the hit. But by then,
Minovsky particles, anti-electronic countermeasure particles, had
already begun flooding the airspace.
Neither pilot could tell which machine had released the particles
first, as both units were equipped with automatic response systems.
The release had likely been simultaneous.
Because of this, Keran managed to avoid a direct hit from Ul's
missiles, but couldn't escape the shockwave of their close-range
detonation.
"Ugh!"
Though momentarily pale, Keran scanned the display created by his
night-vision cameras. The Minovsky particle-saturated airspace
caused severe jamming, sometimes even "dirtying" the camera's light
reception.
But now, the distance between the combatants was minimal.
The battle's explosive flashes were visible even to Saes Konsoun
and Rey Seias, who were retreating down a street several hundred
meters away.
"They got him!"
"No, he's fine, but the enemy's fast," Saes replied, bringing the bike
to a stop. As he watched the Bromb Texter disappear, his body
trembled with barely contained rage.
"That's the one who was there when Reyzam went down!"
Saes recalled his comrade's name, killed during their atmospheric
entry battle, the memory cutting like a knife. He finally had time to
process it all.
"He's fast, but it's nothing we can't handle..." Rey responded,
revving the bike's engine.
"We've got to avenge him!"
"That's why we went back to Affranchi, isn't it?"
This was the raw emotion driving them both.
No matter what they were told, they couldn't care less about
Metatron's ideological struggle against the Earth Federation
government.
Their consideration of selling out to Messer and MHA had been
merely a survival tactic, just as following Affranchi's orders was now.
Even if their old boss Totto rejoined them and they returned to
Affranchi's organization, that's all it would ever be.
Though circumstances had put them back in man-machines, the
means to achieve their ends didn't matter to them.
Instinctively, they preferred choosing a way of life that would have
made Reyzam proud.
This superficial adaptability was their defining trait, and
paradoxically, it made their way of living fundamentally consistent.

"Where are you?!"

The brief exchange between Keran and Ul had ended in a
stalemate.
"Not bad..."
Keran felt his fighting spirit surge, a sensation that pleased him.
The enemy man-machine had likely taken cover among the tree-lined
streets below.
He decreased altitude.
His machine staggered as its feet crushed through the trees with a
grinding crunch. As he stabilized the unit, he throttled the main
engine down to idle, trying to mask his presence.
The only way to get a clear view would be to move into the street.
Keran initiated a slow walking motion with the Dochadi. Though
tense as he watched the near-daylight-bright display, he recognized
his own excitement at finally encountering a worthy opponent.
While he'd been conscious of his internal resistance to events
centering around Affranchi Char, with enemies like this showing up,
Keran couldn't care less about the surrounding circumstances.
For a born man-machine pilot, having this humanoid machine and
enemies like this was all one needed for a fulfilled life.
"But when did something like that get into the city? Didn't see it
during the day's reconnaissance..."
He cursed his oversight.
"Madras and his group are idiots, and so am I."
Even while they'd been away with the Air Force, he hadn't felt
they'd been lax in their surveillance. Yet until Madras's request for
deployment came in, they hadn't noticed a thing.
They hadn't considered the classic tactic of transporting man-
machines via ground vehicles.
In this sparsely populated continent, such a method of transport
seemed unthinkable.
"...?!"
When Keran spotted a human shadow darting near the Dochadi's
feet, it was already disappearing into the darkness behind a building
to the right.
He'd been so focused on watching above that he'd neglected to
guard the ground.
Frustrated with himself, Keran made the Dochadi jump. Though he
knew this was dangerous against an enemy unit, when he caught a
glimpse of light, he accelerated further.
As he turned the machine toward the light source, he shifted the
beam saber to the shield-bearing arm.
He fired the beam rifle as a feint. His instincts proved correct.
The fired beam collided with an enemy blast.
A tremendous flash erupted as the accelerated high-energy
particles collided, briefly illuminating the ghost town of Liège like
daylight, raining streams of searing energy across the darkened
cityscape.
Keran and Ul's man-machines faced each other across a single
street.
"Damn!"
"Hyaaah!"
Though their battle cries couldn't be heard, the two giants closed
the distance instantly, their beam sabers' edges clashing.
The sound resembled shorting high-voltage current. A single
crackling flash.
That was the only sound.
The beam collision, more intense than rifle fire, scorched the
buildings on both sides. Weakened brick and stone walls crumbled as
superheated winds ignited anything flammable.
By then, the two man-machines had separated far to either side.
Through the waves of heat rolling in from hundreds of meters
away, Madras glanced back at Joe.
"You alright?"
"I'm fine!"
Though blood was seeping from Joe's forehead wound again, the
damage wasn't as severe as it looked.
Having a sturdy body as his only merit wasn't such a bad thing.
Their bikes wobbled whenever thick weeds caught the handlebars,
releasing the stench of rotting vegetation.
Nevertheless, Madras deliberately chose routes unfavorable for
bikes as he headed toward where the Air Force waited.
Joe struggled to keep up, following the sound of Madras's bike, the
quiet electric motor proving inconvenient in this situation.
Still, the two bikes managed to slip out toward the suburbs through
the darkness.
Just then, there was a low rumble.
Hearing Keran's engine approaching from behind, Madras flashed
his bike's headlight.
Keran's machine moved slightly ahead overhead.
At barely five meters altitude, Keran's unit slid side to side before
executing a complete roll.
He was asking them to check his machine from the outside.
"?!"
There were no signs of sparks or flames on the unit.
Moreover, maintaining constant altitude even during the roll
proved the machine's control systems were fully operational.
"Well done! Don't think you shot down the enemy, but that's fine,"
Madras muttered to himself, tensing as he considered the
complications ahead.
Behind them, the city's flames grew larger, beginning to scorch the
sky.

Though relieved his machine showed no signs of exploding, Ul felt

himself growing irritated as he anticipated trouble ahead.
Indeed, his concerns proved justified when he caught sight of his
mobile base, the Bushing Nugg. The Bushing had activated its lights
along the man-machine deck's side to receive Ul's unit, standard
procedure according to the manual to secure landing space.
However, the manual didn't specify this had to be followed during
combat. Young soldiers, earnest and excited by their first deployment,
always followed the manual to the letter. This was practically
announcing their position to the enemy.
"This is what you get with a makeshift team!"
Suppressing the urge to shout, Ul landed the Bromb Texter beside
the Bushing Nugg's rear deck and opened the hatch.
"Kill those lights! You want us to get shelled?"
"Sir!"
The young soldiers responded with rigid formality, not realizing
they were being criticized.
The Bromb Texter's feet landed on the deck with a heavy thud. Ul
positioned it carefully to avoid touching the two Guzzas.
Overwhelming military might typically meant a massive
organization. The larger the organization grew, the more human
energy was expended simply maintaining it.
When an organization became large enough to span a person's
lifetime, people became mere cogs in the machine, thinking only of
preservation and prolonging its existence.
They acted while forgetting the organization's true purpose. The
organization itself forgot its reason for being.
This temporal hollowing-out of organizations, though widely
recognized, repeated endlessly throughout history.
Whether bureaucratic or private enterprise, it couldn't be
prevented or improved.
This fatal flaw in human-made organizations remained uncorrected
even in the modern era.
Descending by wire-trap to the deck, Ul asked, "Where's Gamien
and the others?"
"Sir, not back yet!"
"I see... Maintenance might be tricky, but hurry. Think I took a hit
to the left shoulder."
"Sir!"
"Keep lighting to a minimum. We might deploy again soon."
"Sir!"
Ul headed to the bridge without acknowledging their responses.
"Glad you're safe..."
"Yeah. No results. No kills either..."
Gerant Alsa, the main pilot, responded with characteristic
precision.
"It's a Metatron man-machine. A Dochadi..."
Gerant reported, peering at the computer display.
"Gamien went into the Louvian. Would like to hear what they
learned."
"Should we remain on standby then?"
Gerant showed surprise after confirming all console panel
instruments were operational.
"Scared?"
"Not at all. We have no intel suggesting major enemy forces in this
area. Besides, resistance fighters wouldn't approach the Bushing
Nugg, would they?"
"What makes you so sure? The resistance likely has anti-tank
missiles at least?"
"But..."
The young man showed his first signs of tension at Ul's words.
"If they're resistance fighters who've contacted Metatron, wouldn't
they naturally have received weapons?"
"Yes... that's true."
Ul internally sighed, watching the radar screen turned pure white
from Minovsky particle jamming.
The Bushing Nugg began moving slowly, circumventing the city
center where the fire had grown larger.
"Wouldn't going straight through the fire get us closer to that inn?"
Gerant had grown anxious since the weapons supply was
mentioned.
"No. They'll come out this way from the alley behind the inn."
Ul's intuition proved correct.
Shortly after, two figures emerged from the grass along the fire-
reddened road, waving both arms.
Ul felt pleased seeing Krishna's lithe form seemingly dance through
the darkness.
"Stop here."
Before Ul could open the rear hatch, Gamien Haegerich entered,
breathing heavily, sheltering Krishna behind him.
Krishna offered a light salute from behind him.
"Learn anything about Metatron at the inn?"
"Sir! Customers mentioned something landed in the northern
pastures."
"I heard that too."
"Hmm. We're looking at aerial combat then."
Ul's statement was followed by a grin.
"...?!"
Though it seemed dismissive, there was something predatory
about it, like a cold-blooded animal licking its chops at the sight of
prey.
Gerant and Gamien were startled by Ul's expression. Gerant
gripped the controls while Gamien rushed out to the man-machine
deck.
Krishna saw this side of Ul for the first time.
"Why would you...?"
She wanted to ask, but there was an intensity about Ul that
rejected such questions.
"Krishna, operate the anti-aircraft guns here."
"What?"
Ul ignored Krishna's slight hesitation.
"I'm calling Konstan."
With that, he left for the deck.
Krishna watched his back, frowning at the thought they might have
to fight Joe and Madras.
Though she'd imagined this possibility, she hadn't truly believed
she'd face it in reality.
She'd fallen into bed with Ul amid such ambiguity.
His youthful, rough caresses had been stimulating, providing
temporary comfort when she was emotionally damaged.
Above all, she'd been exhausted.
Ending up aboard the Bushing Nugg afterward had simply been the
flow of events.
If there was anything like a reason, it was merely spite toward
Affranchi Char.
To Krishna, Affranchi, with his endearing qualities, had been far
more appealing than someone like Joe.
But Affranchi's attention had always been focused on Miranda
Howe, and after the accident in Denmark, she hadn't felt he'd truly
searched for her.
These were things one could sense even while in captivity.
Given that, though selfish, Krishna had no choice but to go with
the flow.
Those feelings had left her viewing the situation ambiguously.
That's why seeing Joe's face and hearing Madras's voice at the
Louvian had struck such a deep wound in her.
"This is bad...!"
That single thought summed it up, she realized she was standing in
an impossible quagmire.
"Ul knows my position, that's why he made sure I couldn't leave
the bridge."
Krishna sank into depression while adjusting the remote-controlled
gun's targeting.
"Are we set?!"
Constan Perneke burst in from the deck, taking the seat beside
Krishna.
"Are we engaging the enemy?"
"Looks that way. They'll be here soon."
Krishna answered, suppressing her painful emotions.

In the Air Force's cabin, Rey and Saes's Dochadis had already
returned and were moving into launch position.
Their tail nozzles' exhaust flattened the surrounding grass and
nearly sent Madras and Joe's bikes flying.
"Damn it!"
Joe cursed his bike as it wobbled more than necessary while he
rushed up the aluminum ramp leading to the cabin.
"Saes! Watch where you're blasting that thrust!"
The communication wire connecting the cabin and the man-
machines was still live. Joe used the mic to shout at Saes.
"You look pretty banged up. That's what happens when you push
yourself too hard."
Saes's mocking voice stung Joe's ears.
"Tch! Keep talking!"
As Joe peered into the bridge,
"Still no contact from Affranchi's trailing units?"
Madras was asking Michel, who'd been watching the ship.
"Nothing at all... Joe, seal that hatch! We need to land Keran's unit."
Michel barked orders without even noticing Joe's bandaged
forehead.
"Yeah, yeah..."
Before Joe could close the hatch, Keran's unit touched down on
the rear deck.
A deep boom resonated as the vessel shuddered heavily. Madras
waited for the vibrations to settle before pushing the throttle.
Air Force 1's massive frame lifted with surprising grace.
"Joe, can you manage?"
"Of course I can."
Joe felt unnecessary sympathy in Madras's words as he pulled out
the anti-aircraft missile control panel.
"I'll show you, I'll shoot down that man-machine and capture its
pilot alive."
"That's what we need. I want to know why the enemy suddenly
appeared right in front of us."
Michel moved to the rear deck to service Keran's unit.
Of course, there wasn't much he could do in this situation, but
even slapping on some air-seal tape would ease his mind.
With a deep rumble, the Air Force gained altitude, holding at
several dozen meters.
Rey and Saes's Dochadis took up flanking positions on either side.
"Rey, Saes, cover us!"
Through the Minovsky particle interference noise came their
acknowledgments of Madras's command.
"Roger that!"
Chapter.07
Colors of Defeat, Colors of Night

The engine's high-pitched whine should have been kicking up a

ferocious storm of sand and dust all around them, but instead, the
darkness devoured every speck, leaving no visible swirl from the
bridge's vantage point.
"How's it looking, Konstan? Any damage on the Bromb Texter?"
"Sir! I've already replaced the damaged armor plating."
"Good. We're heading out immediately. Get the Gussa fired up as
well."
"Yes, sir! But Guillaume hasn't returned yet!"
Inside the vehicle, the mechanic dared to utter something more
over the internal comm line.
"Once the Gussa's are fired up, switch immediately to anti-air
combat positions. Krishna, put on your helmet."
For Ul, there was no room in his mind for crew members who
failed to regroup by now. He barked the order at Krishna, seated
before the console panel to his left.
"Ah, y-yes!"
Krishna had been so busy double-checking the controls for anti-air
armaments that she had completely forgotten such a basic
precaution. Embarrassed and unsettled, she hurried to fit the helmet
over her lustrous black hair. Feeling the cool press of the helmet's
inner lining, she realized how rattled she was. This turmoil within her
was unusual, and she was keenly aware of it.
"Guillaume's here!"
"Where?"
"Over there!!"
Gerant, a pilot aboard the Bushing Nugg, pointed toward a figure
bolting out from a far-left alley. In the faint glow leaking from Liège's
distant, flame-scorched ruins, the form emerged in a world dominated
by heavy darkness. Ul's eyes, unnaturally sharp as if carved for
nocturnal hunts, detected Guillaume instantly.
"Guillaume must be injured, right?" Krishna ventured, worry
creeping into her voice. She and Guillaume had both been out
scouting at the Lauban Pavilion. The thought of him returning
wounded sent a tremor of concern through her.
"If he managed to make it back, he can fight. Gerant, you got that?"
Ul didn't wait for her reaction. He clapped Gerant's shoulder with a
firm hand and stepped toward the rear deck without the slightest hint
of concern for her anxieties.
Krishna's stomach knotted. Ul's brusque demeanor and the metallic
taste of imminent violence filled her with a queasy dread. She felt cast
aside, like a tool to be tested or discarded at will.
"Are we identifying friend and foe solely by the shape of their man-
machines?" she asked Gerant, trying to steady herself by voicing her
doubts. Deep down, she knew that neither Metatron's nor MHA's
man-machines ever truly felt like “enemies” to her. Now they were
under attack by Affranchi's forces, and Krishna clung unsteadily to a
fence of contradictions.
"The monitor should tell them apart," Gerant answered, flicking his
gaze over her. His look implied that this woman, an adversary until
yesterday, lacked the stomach to gun down her former allies.
"I can see them, but if their man-machines are fast, I'm not
confident..." Krishna's voice wavered, her throat scratchy and tight.
She was trying to dismiss Gerant's doubts but had no solid ground to
stand on.
"At the very least, lay down some covering fire. Otherwise, Ul
might just put a bullet in your back," Gerant warned quietly as he
flicked a switch on a secondary comm line.
"Eh?" Krishna's eyes widened.
"Ul's a strict man," Gerant continued, voice low and serious. "When
it's life or death, anyone would be. If you don't fight properly, he
might just do it, shoot you from behind, Krishna Pandent."
The line Gerant had opened wasn't linked to the rear deck. It was
the frequency used for man-machine communications. He intended
for the enemy to intercept this transmission, letting them know
Krishna was here. If that knowledge prompted hesitation in their
attack, it could serve his own ends.
"If you could manage to shoot down even one of Metatron's man-
machines, we'll acknowledge your position among us."
"Bromb Texter, moving out!" Ul's voice boomed through.
"Y-Yes, sir!" Krishna blurted, pressing down her panic. Gerant took
heart that Ul made no remark on his exchange with Krishna. His
silence felt like tacit approval of Gerant's scheme.
"Gamien, move out! Guillaume, we're going!"
As the three man-machines launched, their departure caused the
Bushing Nugg's hull to jolt and shiver. Freed of their weight, it sprang
upward a dozen meters, then settled into its normal ground-level
cruising altitude..
"Right, two o'clock!" Krishna called out, spotting a glowing
silhouette, likely one that had split from Air Force 1, through the
flickering monitors.
"Alright, all hands, anti-air combat!" Gerant barked.
Gerant was relieved to see Krishna's prompt reaction, believing his
intimidation had worked. In battle, one extra set of capable hands
could mean the difference between life and death.

When Krishna spotted the incoming man-machines from aboard

the Bushing Nugg, the pilots of those two enemy units, Rey and Saes,
simultaneously caught sight of the flashes from Ul's units.
"So that traitor's down there, huh!"
Rey spat, her voice roughened by disgust. They had intercepted
Gerant's mention of Krishna. But before Rey could voice more fury,
Minovsky particles thickened to combat density, smothering radio
contact under heavy static.
As Saes's machine climbed higher, Rey surged forward in pursuit,
brandishing her shield to protect her man-machine's main body. The
beam rifle's output indicator blinked at maximum. Rey's heart
hammered.
"That Krishna, bold as brass, is now pointing guns at us!"
Rey's words were acidic.
Blood thrummed hot in her veins. It hadn't been long since she'd
tried to rescue Krishna after the younger woman fell from the Air
Force. Now, less than ten days later, Krishna had turned her back on
them. This betrayal was unforgivable.
Krishna, younger than Rey's group, had been a far more legitimate
member of Metatron's staff. To have her betray them after descending
to Earth was a slap in the face. If it had been someone like them, with
checkered histories, it would make sense. But Krishna's defection
struck Rey as a profound violation of trust. Rey had believed that
ordinary, honest people would never backstab their allies.
"Don't you dare!" Rey snarled, chasing Saes's unit as they readied
for combat.
Gerant's plan to frighten them into holding back had failed.
Instead, Rey and Saes grew bolder, more ferocious, more primal in
their resolve. Their fury and instincts were honed for war, not cowed
by threats.
In an era long past, there was a misconception that complex
machines required cool, intellectual pilots, rational thinkers to operate
such intricate technology. But that was the legacy of a technology-
obsessed age. Real combat, by its very nature, was not an intellectual
exercise. It demanded animal instinct, raw nerve, and visceral combat
sense.
"Damn them!"
Madras and Joe, observing from the Air Force's bridge, cursed the
reckless duo. They watched the bright trails of the two units streak
toward enemy territory, driven by simple, violent resolve.
"They're out of their minds!"
Joe, awakened from his shock at meeting Krishna again at the
Louvian, watched the fiery trails of the two units' tail nozzles streak
into enemy airspace, presumably where the source of the enemy
transmission was.
If he stayed lost in questions about Krishna's motives, he might die
without learning her reasons for leaving. Joe understood that now.
"What's the status on Keran's unit?!"
Madras shouted toward the rear cabin, where Michel Acken
wrestled with maintenance tasks.
"I need a bit more time just to get the beam launcher operational,"
Michel answered coolly, steady under pressure.
"Keran, Krishna's planning to lay down anti-air fire against us from
that ground support machine!"
"So what if she does. Let Saes and Rey handle Krishna," Keran
scoffed, a sneer in his voice. Joe felt that sneer like a blade across his
heart.
"But what will we tell Affranchi?" Joe's voice rose, nearly hysterical.
"Affranchi has given up on her."
"That's just how it turned out, not what he truly wants!"
Madras, ever so slightly more sympathetic, called that out. Joe took
a strange comfort in that mild kindness.
"But face reality, Joe. Krishna has betrayed us. Leave her to Saes
and Rey. Don't get mad. Don't hold a grudge."
His words, though tough, were an attempt to soften the blow for
Joe. They offered a bitter kind of understanding.
"Yeah... I get it," Joe managed, voice hollow. But inwardly, he
howled wordlessly. His eyes bored into the night-vision monitor,
searching for some sign of Krishna. Why wouldn't she come back?
After all the training, the cooperation, why choose betrayal now?
Madras banked the Air Force sharply, a low-altitude turn to
withdraw. The tension thickened with every passing second.
"We've got incoming!" Joe announced suddenly, spotting enemy
man-machines and their ground support closing in. If cornered, he'd
bomb them himself if it came to that.
"Krishna, if it's come to this, I'll finish you off myself," he whispered,
guiding the camera toward the ground. But the darkness revealed
nothing, and the Air Force streaked onward through the gloom.

Saes and Rey skimmed their units dangerously low, scraping

rooftops of ruined city structures. Through their night-vision monitors,
they caught the faint glow of tail nozzles. Their leader, Messer Mett,
wasn't here, and that only sharpened their determination.
"Tch!"
Saes clicked his tongue, hurling sand barrels into the air ahead,
their glittering payload drifting like malicious fireflies. Rey plunged
forward, weaving into that corridor of missiles, as Saes swung low. If
the enemy detected trap, they would surely veer off to one side or
the other. Whichever way they chose, the pair planned to ambush
them. It was a risky game of cat and mouse.
But their strategy was more than just routine. They knew that their
opponents, like Ul and Keran, were streetwise fighters, prone to feints
and misdirection.
As if on cue, two of the three enemy machines retreated upward
when confronted with the sand barrels. Rey lunged at that opening,
slipping beneath one enemy unit and cutting it down with a swift
burst from her Vulcan cannon.
A violent flash, a savage jolt, and the crippled enemy vanished into
the night like a comet extinguished mid-flight.
"Heh!" Rey smirked. But her Vulcan's muzzle flash had given away
her position to the remaining enemies. Anticipating their return fire,
she twisted her machine in a fluid arc, prepared for the counterstrike.
As the second enemy unit unleashed a flurry of missiles, Rey
dodged them deftly, pushing into a close-quarters melee. In that
fleeting interval…
"Ugh!"
Saes gasped, recognizing the foe before him as none other than
Ul's Bromb Texter. They locked horns barely twenty meters above
ground, dodging looming towers and collapsed spires. One high rise
could end them both if they slipped.
Their Vulcans barked once, bright and deadly. Then they whirled to
face each other again, weapons flaring in the darkness.
"Damn!" Saes's nerves prickled. Every move felt razor-thin. Shield
rattling from air resistance, Saes unleashed another volley of missiles.
He cursed himself the moment he fired. Ul's unit did not loose any
missiles under these conditions. By firing first, Saes had simply
announced his position. Ul's machine was already closing in.
"So that's how it is!" Saes growled.
He braced his beam rifle at hip level and opened fire,
simultaneously brandishing a beam saber. Ul's unit lunged from the
flank like a predator closing on wounded prey. Saes tried a desperate
maneuver, firing the rifle, slashing the saber, but Ul's beam met Saes's
in a blinding, seething vortex of luminous particles.
"What the hell—!"
Saes screamed, panic shredding his calm. He fired wildly, but the
interference between the beams turned the cockpit displays into a
searing hell of white light.
"Damn it all!"
In that radiant chaos, Saes glimpsed the Bromb Texter's feral
visage, looming through the swirl of energy. Its face seemed to grin
cruelly, as if congratulating Saes on his valor.
"You bastard!"
His last cry never fully formed.
Ul's blade cut deep, dissolving cockpit and chassis into molten slag.
Half the Dochadi's forward section melted away, its broken remains
tumbling silently into Liège's outskirts, swallowed by the night.
More slicing beams scorched the air, hissing like heavy rain on a tin
roof.
"Reinforcements?!"
Ul's machine spun gracefully through that barrage, evading as if
dancing in mid-air.
The one who'd unleashed that volley to challenge Ul's combat zone
was not Rey, it was Keran Mead.
"Hmph!"
Even as he twisted nimbly, Ul recognized this new foe as the same
one he'd encountered earlier. He minimized the Bromb's output, using
its shield like an air-brake to decelerate, intending to let the enemy's
dive overshoot.
But the enemy also slowed, descending smoothly without being
tricked. Ul's tongue clicked with admiration.
"So that's the kind of enemy you are!"
In that fleeting moment, Ul spotted Gamian's machine locked in a
saber duel with another enemy.
"They're evenly matched..."
Pausing a second, Ul kicked off a nearby building and spread
another wave of sand barrels into the forward airspace. Keran's unit
drifted sideways at low altitude, as if prepared for a grappling match
rather than an aerial chase.
"A pilot who knows he can't win in aerial combat," Ul mused coolly.
If that was so, Ul had no intention of falling into the trap.
"He must've run out of heavy weapons by now."
Ul thought not of the enemy before him, but of the one Gamian
faced. Since Gamian was holding on, Ul decided he could expend all
the Bromb's firepower to take down Keran here and now.
"Alright!!"
He almost licked his lips at the prospect.
He released missiles in three distinct waves to confuse Keran,
forcing the enemy into multiple evasions.
"There!"
Ul deployed the funnels, remote weapons guided by his own
neural impulses.
They mirrored Ul's intent precisely, weaving through every dodge
Keran attempted.
"Ugh!!"
For Keran, who prided himself on being a career pilot, both his
confidence and caution crumbled under the crushing weight of Ul's
arrogant yet laser-focused will. A white flare enveloped his cockpit,
but just before that annihilating brilliance, he felt a hopeless dread, as
if he had always known it would come to this. There was no escape
from these streaks of light.
"Damn it all..."
This was the decisive moment where machine performance
overshadowed human skill. No matter how Keran tried, human
ingenuity could not prevail here. As his consciousness went white, he
recalled no past life memories. He simply ceased to be.
Funnels typically strained a pilot's mental energy, limiting their use
to once per battle. But Ul's logical, deliberate style of attack allowed
him to wield them coolly and effectively, without mental fatigue.
"Hmph!"
Ul let out a derisive snort.
Keran's consciousness and body vaporized without even
registering the pain or awareness of destruction, even more swiftly
than Saes had.
Keran's unit exploded, its fusion reactor's detonation erasing a
significant portion of Liège's ruins.
The night blazed as bright as noon, carving a ribbon of fire across
the wounded European landscape.

"They got him?!"

Madras, Michel, and Joe groaned as Kerran's transmission
dissolved into static. High above the city, a colossal corona of
superheated energy flared into being.
"We'd just finished repairing that unit!"
Michel's voice cracked, half sob, half fury.
"What the hell is Affranchi doing?!"
Joe shouted, rage and grief warring in his heart.
"Enemy, below and to the left!"
Madras barked, cutting off Joe's lament. He had spotted the
Bushing Nugg escaping the ruined city, skimming close to the ground
like a predatory beetle scuttling away.
"What?!"
Joe's hands clenched reflexively around the trigger. Yes, something
was there, a hulking, half-tank half-craft, probably their ground
support. In this lawless European frontier, nothing was surprising.
There was no room for doubt or mercy now.
Before the Air Force's belly hatch could fully open, Joe loosed
missiles at the fleeing shape.
"Take that!" he roared, forgetting Krishna might be inside.
The Air Force twisted violently, trying to dodge man-machine
attacks and incoming artillery from the Bushing Nugg. Joe's aim was
cruelly precise. A direct hit seemed inevitable.
But at the last instant, the missile detonated meters above the
Bushing Nugg. The shockwave hammered down, churning the
wilderness around it rather than shredding its hull.
With a thunderous crash, the Bushing Nugg lurched violently but
sustained no direct hit, pressing onward.
Inside, Krishna screamed. "A-are we okay?!?!" She clutched her
console, heart galloping.
"That should have been a direct hit, but the barrier activated!"
Gerant's pale face gleamed, half in terror, half in exhilaration.
"Amazing! A barrier! It detonated right above us, right?!"
Konstan cheered, equally awed. Neither had ever experienced such
a phenomenon.
"Incredible..."
Gerant spun toward Krishna. "They tried to kill you too, y'know!
Don't hesitate! Take 'em out!"
"Wh-what?! What?!"
Krishna's eyes darted over the controls. The Air Force's thermal
signature blinked on her Vulcan cannon's targeting panel, Minovsky
distortions flickering across the screen. In a haze of dread and shock,
she squeezed the trigger.
A monstrous rattling flood of artillery fire surged forth. Krishna's
mind froze, horrified by her own action. The Air Force, once her ally,
now coughed flames from its rear. She slammed her eyes shut.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She cried soundlessly, tears
gathering but unshed, voice locked in her throat.
"Gamian! If you can hear this, withdraw! The enemy bomber's
down!"
Konstan called out.
Just then, Ul's voice cut clearly through the Minovsky static.
"Bushing Nugg! Confirm the bomber kill and hold position. Gamian,
regroup with me!"
"I... I've become a cog in Ul's war machine," Krishna realized. The
thought weighed on her chest, heavy and suffocating, an undeniable
truth settling like molten lead inside her.

Ul surged toward Gamian's unit, which remained entangled with

Rey's man-machine. But Rey noticed Ul first. She was hardened by
real combat experience, after all.
"Dammit!"
Rey attempted to break away, which opened a window for Gamian
to target her more easily.
"Don't shoot her down! Take the pilot prisoner," Ul's voice lashed
Gamian's ears, crisp even through the muffled comms.
"Ul?"
Gamian gasped, momentarily startled. In that split-second, Ul's
Bromb Texter fired a scorching beam. It tore into Rey's machine,
slicing from hip armor to shoulder plating, leaving twisted metal and
scorched circuitry in its wake.
"Ugh!" Rey jolted violently as the impact rattled her cockpit. Fear
and despair swelled in her throat. "Guess I'm coming to see you,
Reyzam!" she cried, half delirious, trying desperately to eject the
cockpit core. The explosive bolts fired, but the core refused to
separate from the chassis.
"Saes!"
She screamed into the darkness, knowing there'd be no answer.
Blackness encroached on her vision as the battered machine plunged
into the woodland that had reclaimed the outskirts. The main engine
roared one last time as it burrowed further into the earth, then fell
silent.
"Damn it..."
Now just a trapped core module, Rey's display was reduced to a
single forward view. Half her monitor showed only ground and grass.
The emergency lamp glowed faintly, painting the cramped cockpit in
dim red light. She hit the hatch release button.
With a dull, muted thud, the charges blew. The hatch should have
blasted free, but it didn't budge. The core rocked once and then
stopped.
"It won't open!!!"
At the same time, Air Force 1, flaming from a beam strike, sank
helplessly into the distant forest's edge. The craft slowed but couldn't
recover to full flight. The bridge shuddered with failing systems.
"We can't give up over something like this! Affranchi! What are you
doing?! We've lost both Keran and Saes!" Madras's voice was tight
with grief and anger. Joe tasted panic as he watched systems die. All
they could do now was escape the burning craft and try to survive on
foot.
"I cut the main engine! It shouldn't blow," Michel yelled, trying to
reassure them. Nuclear fusion engines rarely exploded unless the
beam hit them directly or overheated their internals.
Joe hefted a machine gun. He couldn't stay here. He leapt from the
bridge's open hatch into the cool night air, landing roughly in the dark
forest below. If he survived this, he would find Krishna and learn her
reasons. If she truly meant to abandon them, he would do the
unthinkable. That grim resolve settled over him like a funereal shroud
as he vanished into the shadows, the hiss of distant flames and
machinery lingering in his ears.
Chapter.08
Hush-a-Bye

"Could that be them?"

Fares de Minne narrowed her eyes at the craft slicing down
through the darkness. She guessed that Madras and the others must
be aboard that descending Air Force. Before Ul Urian's MHA crew had
reached the Loubant Inn, there'd been no reports of any aerial
vehicles. That meant Ul's team must have entered Liège using some
rumored ground-support machine, and thus the crashing air unit was
likely Madras's.
"Jacob!"
"It's going to be bumpy! Don't bite your tongue!"
Their antique replica jeep, lit only by a combat-ready red lamp,
rushed headlong through the forest with scarcely any visibility. Yet
Jacob Verhaeren, hands steady on the wheel, didn't ease off the
accelerator.
The Air Force, seen earlier spitting fire, had now dimmed its flames
and vanished beyond the woods.
"Not going to explode?" asked Fares.
"If it does, at this distance we'll be instantly swallowed by a sea of
flame," she answered herself, voice grimly calm.
A damped rumble rolled through the forest, muffled by the wall of
trees, making the darkness shudder around them.
"We're fine," Fares said softly.
When their jeep burst out of the forest, they saw the Air Force,
half its wings gone, plunged nose-first into the opposite tree line. Fuel
and oil still burned faintly along parts of its frame, outlining its
silhouette in dim, flickering light.
Jacob swung the jeep around to the aircraft's prow.
"Madras! Madras Karia!"
Fares called out.
"Madam!"
Jacob attempted to hush her, he used the same address he did at
the Louvian, but Fares shook off his arm and shouted again, "Madras!"
The sharp crack of a gunshot rang out, its echo quickly fading into
the night.
"We're not enemies! The Louvian has set up shop right here!" Fares
shouted over the fading echo.
"For real?! Fares de Minne, is that you?"
Madras's voice came from somewhere in the darkness.
"Oh... how could you mistake this voice of mine?!"
Fares imagined Madras must be rather more scatterbrained than he
looked. She jumped off the slowly moving jeep.
"Over here! The Air Force's burning engine sounds are echoing like
crazy. Sorry if I startled you. Are you all right?"
Like ghosts drifting through quivering shadows, Madras, Joe, and
Michel emerged. Their faces were drawn and haggard, almost
spectral. Fares couldn't help but smile wryly at their haunted
appearance.
"I never thought you'd have such impeccable timing," she said.
"Aah... you're too kind," Madras replied and reached out his hand.
Fares gripped it firmly.
"Glad to see you alive. You..."
"It was the worst kind of battle... We shouldn't stay here. It's
dangerous," Madras said, leaning into Fares's support as they headed
for the jeep.
"Those MHA manmachines, right? Not all destroyed, it seems."
"Hmm..."
Madras accepted Fares's help in silence and shuffled toward the
jeep.
"Captain?"
Michel started to say something, but then noticed Joe standing
transfixed, staring at the burning Air Force. He tugged on Joe's arm.
"Let go. I can walk," Joe muttered dully, listlessly shaking off
Michel's arm, dragging a machine gun as he moved forward.
"It's 'cause you were late this happened... We couldn't find Krishna
after that..."
Joe's muttering accused Affranchi for not arriving sooner. Michel,
glancing at the jeep's red lamp that gleamed like a demon's eye,
refused to let go of Joe's arm.
Affranchi Char, who had advanced into a nearby airspace to
support Madras's team, had arrived just moments too late to save
Saes and Keran. Calling it ironic fate would be too poetic. In truth, it
was just how these accumulations of bad timing piled up.
2

"Captain Caroço! We might take sniper fire, gain altitude and keep
moving!"
"Char?! What are you going to do?"
"I'll scout the ground. Stand by at the next rendezvous point."
"That's reckless, Char!"
Ignoring Rodriguez Caroço's protest, Affranchi peeled his Gaia Gear
away from Air Force 2's back and plunged rapidly downward.
With the deep roar of thrust, the Gaia Gear moved freely now.
Affranchi overlaid the coordinates of the explosion he saw minutes
ago onto a computer-generated map, then matched it against real
topography captured by the cameras. He also had the computer
calculate his thrust and directional variations to pinpoint his position.
Without radar under Minovsky interference, this method had inherent
errors, the atmosphere caused deviations. Bridging that gap required
good cameras and a pilot's intuition.
"So Madras's team fell without achieving anything..."
Seeing Liège's battle-scarred streets, Affranchi could only conclude
that.
"But it can't have been that long..."
A late-rising moon hovered near the horizon, he sensed he'd only
be making himself a target for enemies likely lurking below.
"No... wait...!"
He circled Liège twice, straining to parse faint rescue signals amid
the Minovsky static.
"Rey's machine?!"
He couldn't pinpoint the exact source, but a feeling washed over
him. He sensed a hostile presence, thick and dark, lurking down
below.
"Ul... is that you?"
He muttered to himself. The feeling wasn't clear enough to be sure.
It was more like "Something hostile is definitely out there."
If he was right, the enemy must have locked sights on the Gaia
Gear, which had approached from above. Affranchi hesitated. Another
gritty sensation gnawed at him. Something else muddied his
perceptions, a second presence. He chose to ignore that vague
interference, he needed to confirm what sort of enemy had given
Madras's team such a hard time.
If sending Madras's team ahead had led to disaster, that was
Affranchi's error in judgment. He felt he must take responsibility by
investigating personally. This was a kind-hearted decision but weak
for a commander. Ever since declaring his position aboard Mother
Metatron, Affranchi should not have been piloting the Gaia Gear. But
because he was so well-suited to its psycommu system, the
brainwave amplification device installed in the suit, he could never
abandon it.
Affranchi's fascination with the Gaia Gear outweighed his interest
in building an effective organization. As a result, here he was, risking
himself to save just one pilot, Rey, and forgetting the larger strategic
picture.
By doing so, at this moment, Affranchi decisively rejected returning
to space. He stepped into the trivial, emotional world on Earth,
abandoning the role of "Supreme Commander" waiting in Metatron's
orbit. Whether right or wrong, no one could say now. But this was
simply the kind of young man Affranchi was.
The treetops glimmered faintly in the moonlight.
"Over there?"
Affranchi found it strange that the enemy waited in that spot. For
an ambush, it seemed too clever, too well-informed of his
movements.
"No... that can't be it," he decided instinctively.
He aimed his beam rifle in the direction he sensed the foe and
fired once.
In a flash, a muffled beam discharge tore into the darkness.
The enemy he expected didn't move.
Affranchi sharply cut speed, letting the Gaia Gear drift as if
hesitating.
"Will they take this bait?"
He allowed the Gaia Gear to fall freely, making himself a prime
target for a sniper.
A late warning signal chattered in his ears. His own intuition
outpaced the computer's slow analysis.
"A normal foe, then," Affranchi murmured sadly. Before the
computer finished its warning, he fired another beam shot.
A deep, heavy blast.
He destroyed a man-machine piloted by an ordinary pilot, watching
it break apart and crash.
Affranchi placed that falling wreck between himself and the enemy
he'd first sensed. Lowering altitude to the treetops, he hovered
among the young trees, half-concealing the Gaia Gear's frame. He
regretted crushing the newly grown forest, but he couldn't afford to
hesitate.
"Yes... it's Ul," He realized more clearly now. The hostile aura
became sharper in his mind.
Several searing beams sliced through the night, vaporizing treetops
into airborne splinters and illuminating the forest's canopy. The shots
were precise. But the Gaia Gear had already zigzagged out of harm's
way, reacting as soon as Affranchi sensed the will to fire.
"So..."
He couldn't understand the enemy's next intent. A black shape
lunged at him, some new tactic?
"Confusion?!"
Affranchi comprehended that the enemy's mindset had shifted into
a chaotic malice he couldn't easily predict. It startled him, his purity
couldn't imagine such malice.
"A core!?"
The object leaping into the air was a cockpit core, the Dochadi's
cockpit module.
At that instant, Affranchi grasped everything that had happened on
this battlefield. There was a pilot inside that core, he could sense it.
"Damn it."
He clicked his tongue in anger. Ul was using the enemy's own
wounded ally as a shield.
The Gaia Gear's shoulder-mounted bomber bots unleashed a
horizontal volley, intercepting missiles that tried to exploit the cockpit
core's drop trajectory.
The blasts churned the air with the sounds of violent explosions
and light.
"Keh!"
Affranchi accelerated. Fully aware he was stepping into the
enemy's trap, he reached out with the Gaia Gear's left hand and
caught the cockpit core. He cradled it without letting down his guard.
"...?!"
But the hostile presence receded. Affranchi glimpsed a flash of
retreating thrusters skimming over treetops. The beam rifle's effective
range was too short at ground level this dense atmosphere to snipe
the escaping foe.
"So fast?!"
The last enemy delivered a single strike, realized it failed, and
retreated. Such cleanliness of action. After gauging Affranchi's
capabilities in a single exchange, the enemy used the cockpit core as a
shield to escape, just as he had used the falling enemy unit as cover.
A foe who could instantly gauge an opponent’s strength and leave
without hesitation belonged to an excellent combat pilot. Such
enemies always return more terrifying than before.
"Ul... Even with improved machine performance, he himself has
grown..." Affranchi noted, imprinting that reality in his mind as he
lowered the cockpit core to the ground.
With a heavy thud, the core settled into the Earth, And he used
the Gaia Gear's manipulator to force the hatch open.

"Rey! Can you hear me?"

Peering inside the cockpit core, Affranchi called out. Rey groaned
faintly, unable to move. He swept a flashlight beam over her pilot suit
and found no external wounds.
"I can't treat you properly until we get to the rendezvous point. I'll
have to transport you like this, okay?"
Rey nodded weakly and murmured something.
"Huh?"
"Saes and Keran... they're both gone..."
It sounded like that. Exactly the losses Affranchi had feared.
Yet hearing directly about their deaths in battle still came as a
shock.
"I'm sorry... I was tied up by requests from Mother Metatron and
couldn't move quickly enough," Affranchi began, then stiffened at the
sound of an engine approaching. He drew his pistol, heart pounding.
With his mind shaken, he couldn't read "the aura" of whoever
approached, so he stood guarding the cockpit hatch with gun raised.
Tensing with self-reproach, for frontline pilots like Rey, this was all he
could do now: protect her physically.
"Affranchi! It's Madras!"
The voice carried over the engine hum. Relieved, Affranchi
understood that Madras's unit had survived, at least some of them, to
come find him.
"Madras and the others are here," he said to Rey, switching on his
flashlight and waving it up and down.
The jeep driven by Jacob emerged between the trees. Affranchi
saw Michel and Joe, and felt some relief that at least the crew was
alive in this bleak situation.
"You're alive!" Affranchi cried, hurrying toward the jeep while
glancing back at Rey. "I'm sorry. Really sorry. Rey's in that cockpit
core. I want to move to a point where we can meet Air Force 2 and
figure out our next step."
As Affranchi embraced Madras and shook his hand, he continued,
"...But Keran and Saes..."
"Rey told me," Affranchi said. "Michel, Joe, I'm sorry I was late."
He squeezed their hands and bowed his head.
"Rey's alive?!"
Michel and Madras ran to the cockpit core, calling out to her.
"That pilot's inside there?"
The woman in the jeep's passenger seat asked Affranchi.
"Yes, severe bruises only, I think. I'm worried about fractures."
"Jacob."
"Right."
Before Affranchi could say more, the woman tapped the shoulder
of the thin man at the wheel. He hopped down and hurried to check
Rey. She followed, ignoring Affranchi entirely.
Affranchi felt oddly dismissed. Before the fight, he'd sensed
hesitation, and now that feeling of uncertainty returned in full force.
"Hey, let him examine you," the woman said to Michel, who started
to protest at Jacob's approach.
"Jacob knows orthopedics. Let him have a look."
"Oh, really? Then thanks," Michel replied, accepting Jacob's
examination.
Affranchi glanced at Joe, huddled in the jeep's rear seat with a
machine gun.
"You hurt?" he asked.
"Huh? No. I'm fine," he answered, showing a flash of white teeth
that seemed strangely drained.
"That's Affranchi?"
Hearing Fares's voice, Affranchi turned toward the core.
"Yes, that's him."
From her tone, Affranchi grasped how faint an impression he made.
It stung his pride.
"They're the resistance who hid in Liège. We've helped each other
out," Madras introduced them.
"I see... My people owe you. I'm sorry."
"Fares de Minne... So, the MHA moved in fast. This battle was quite
something, but somehow..."
Fares trailed off and Affranchi understood her implication. He
shook her hand formally.
"As you suspected, Metatron isn't functioning smoothly. And now
Affranchi's unit has lost its precious Air Force and man-machines, and
pilots. We've never suffered such devestating losses."
"Hmm, tough luck," Fares said dryly.
"Yeah... So, how is she?"
Affranchi looked toward Jacob as he emerged from the cockpit
core.
"She's badly bruised, no broken bones. I put on a poultice, but she
shouldn't move much. We need a proper facility to re-examine her."
Jacob, apparently skilled in both martial arts and orthopedics, had
done a thorough job.
"Thank you," Affranchi said. After introducing himself to Jacob,
Affranchi told Madras and the others where to meet Air Force 2.
"I'll carry the cockpit core with Rey. You follow in the jeep."
"At that place, it won't take more than thirty minutes. We'll be right
there," said Jacob, who knew the terrain.
"Thanks. Unfortunately, man-machines aren't convenient for
carrying injured people," Affranchi said, feeling the combat unit's
awkward limitations. He placed a foot on the wire ladder.
"Madras," he whispered as Madras came closer.
"Yeah?"
"What's with Joe?" Affranchi asked softly, glancing at Joe who still
sat in the jeep.
"I hate to tell you, but... the MHA's ground support machine we
fought... Krishna might have been with them... We even heard her
voice. She might've shot us down," Madras reported.
Affranchi, gripping the wire, nearly stumbled. He steadied himself
and looked into Madras's eyes.
"Hard to believe, right? But the enemy told us over the radio. We
heard her voice. She might have been the one who downed us."
"Krishna... with MHA?"
Affranchi instinctively felt it could be true, though logically he
rejected it.
"I see..."
"You believe it?" Madras asked doubtfully.
"It must be true if you and Joe both heard it... Then I have no
choice but to accept it. It's all the commander's fault."
Affranchi groaned, pressed the switch, and rose up to the Gaia
Gear's cockpit.
"So my indecision led to this," he murmured, recognizing a painful
clarity: insight without foresight, a vulnerability in himself.
4

Affranchi and the Gaia Gear arrived at the rendezvous point with
Rodriguez's Air Force 2's first.
"Don't wake her unnecessarily. Let her sleep as long as she can, it
eases the pain of bruises," Affranchi said. He left the cockpit core
intact on the ground and set up a nighttime tent while waiting for the
jeep. The Air Force deck had sleeping space, but ever since
descending to Earth, Affranchi's unit often chose to sleep on solid
ground whenever possible. It happened naturally.
Sitting on a camp bed under the tent, Affranchi sipped coffee from
a brass mug.
"Krishna interfered, did she..."
Madras's report had shocked him, the warm coffee in its brass cup
made him reflect anew on the sensations he'd experienced in
tonight's battle.
What particularly bothered him was the second sensation after
initially detecting the enemy in the forest.
"Everything I felt above Liège was real... I'm certain of that... But
that strange sensation of interference before combat was human
malice... no, hatred... that kind of thing..."
When the word 'hatred' occurred to him, Aflanche could identify
the source of that will.
Above all, recognizing it as coming from someone he knew made
that sensed impression terribly sad.
"That interfering sensation was Krishna's..."
Once you know someone's presence, it can't be erased.
He didn't want to believe it, but he couldn't deny it. The knowledge
only forced Affranchi to confront his own position.
"I push people away... Those who admire me, I fail to recognize,
and end up driving them off..."
Perhaps a shallow thought, but it rang true enough to him. He lay
back on the camp bed, staring into the darkness beneath the tent.
The chill night air on his feet kept him painfully awake.
"You picked a good spot," said Fares de Minne after stepping down
from the jeep.
A pair of low hills ran east-west, open fields spread north-south,
and a thin line of forest concealed the Air Force and provided
windbreaks. It was a comfortable campsite.
"Jacob, treat Rey and the others," Fares said.
"On it."
After being introduced to Rodriguez Caroço's team, Jacob took Rey
to a tent and started treating her bruises. Madras's team set up their
own tent, and Joe disappeared inside it. Affranchi noticed none of
this, his gaze fixed on the tent ceiling, waiting for sleep.
But Affranchi's thoughts drifted to Miranda Howe, whom he'd left
aboard Mother Metatron.
"I need your help, Miranda... Things have come to that point..."
Meeting a woman like Fares made him yearn for Miranda's support.
At least it wasn't Everly Key this time.
Footsteps approached.
"Caroço said to bring fire over here..."
Michel arrived with a portable gas stove and a pot. He halted at
Affranchi's feet.
"No need... Go to Joe's tent instead. Best not to leave him alone,
right?"
"Ah... yes, that's true..."
Michel understood Affranchi's mood. He answered lightly, but
Affranchi knew Michel was trying to comfort him. Michel took the
stove and pot back to their tent.
Affranchi sat up. Through the trees he saw the orange glow of a
lantern and silhouettes shifting in its light. He waited, listening to the
hiss of gas and the sound of a pot settling onto the stove. The
everyday clatter and the aroma of vegetable soup felt impossibly
unreal to him now.
Spooked by his own feelings, Affranchi grabbed his brass mug from
the ground, trying to warm his hands on the remnants of coffee.
"She seems to have regained her senses," said Madras, stepping
into the lantern's glow and coming near Affranchi.
"How's Joe?" Affranchi asked.
"Can't sleep. Time will fix that," Madras said, sitting down on a
camp stool, pulling out a can of peanuts, and crunching them slowly.
The crackle of peanuts sounded unbearably forlorn.
Affranchi stood suddenly. Rey, supported by Jacob and Fares,
stumbled toward Affranchi's tent. He moved to meet her, gesturing
for her to sit on his camp bed.
"Earlier I was too out of it to ask... So what do you think about
tonight, Aff?" Rey asked, shrugging off Jacob's and Fares's helping
hands and speaking in a low, hoarse voice.
Affranchi braced himself. "Aff" was what Rey's comrades called him.
He had to face her squarely.
"It's all my responsibility. I'm not speaking abstractly. Ever since I
fled Mother Metatron, unable to fully command it, hating the job of
'Supreme Commander,' I came down to Earth. Everything stems from
that."
Rey's head drooped and she swayed. She didn't look like she was
thinking deeply, just that her nerves were raw and frayed.
Affranchi felt a pang of sadness. He had driven a woman to this
state. If Keran had a family, they too would be suffering similarly.
"...Then..." Rey's voice was low. She leaned back, then suddenly
flung herself forward.
"You bastard!!"
Her fist slammed against Affranchi's cheek with a dull, fleshy
whack!.
"Rey!"
Madras tried to intervene, and Michel rushed out of his tent, but
Affranchi waved them off.
"It's fine!"
"Take that!" Rey snarled, swinging again, ignoring her own pain.
With sharp cracks and dull thuds, the sound of flesh striking flesh
continued.
Affranchi took it silently. Everyone else watched without
interfering. Jacob and Fares exchanged glances and disappeared into
the tent where Michel had left the pot. Inside, Joe had propped
himself up and stared wide-eyed at Rey and Affranchi.
"Organization is complicated," Fares murmured to Joe, sitting down
by the pot.
"But that young fellow is supposedly Char, huh?" Jacob stirred the
soup, eyeing Joe.
"That's how it is," Fares said, glaring at Jacob's wry grin.
"I admit Char has power, but it's personal. If he's a Newtype, that's
even more so. Newtype abilities are individual, they can't be spread
through an organization."
Fares wanted Jacob to explain more, but just then:
"Ugh... Uwaaa!"
A bestial sob tore through the darkness. Rey's voice.
"...Not only Reyzam, but Saes too... Both dead!" Rey moaned,
collapsing against Affranchi. Her knees buckled.
"I'm sorry, Rey... Please, rest now. Nothing else will happen tonight.
Just rest..."
"Ugh... Fuh..."
Rey, supported by Affranchi, sank down onto the camp bed.
Madras and Michel stepped away and returned to the soup tent. Joe
crawled back into his sleeping bag. The pot's steam rose silently
between Fares, Jacob, Madras, and Michel.
"So what do you mean that the ability only focuses on the
individual?" Fares asked Jacob.
"Ah, martial arts skill is personal. Even if there are secret
techniques, rarely does a successor surpass the old master by much.
Modern sports once broke records repeatedly, but that's because it
was a technological race. When you hit the body's limit, records
stagnate, just like in martial arts."
"So Newtype abilities are like martial arts, directed inward,
personal?"
"A bit different, but yes. The point is that the method of becoming
a Newtype can't be taught to others. It's an individual journey, not
something an organization can distribute," Jacob explained.
Madras and Michel silently watched the pot's steam, absorbing
these words. Meanwhile, Affranchi pulled a sheet over Rey on the
camp bed, knelt beside her, and said something too quiet to catch.
"It's all right... Go back to the others," Rey's trembling voice drifted
over. "I'll spend the night here with Saes..."
"Get some rest," Affranchi said, and it seemed he kissed her gently.
Those by the pot sensed it, shoulders drawing closer. Fares glanced at
Madras and flashed a quick white-toothed grin.
Chapter.09
Patient

"Madras, do you remember that guy Ul? From the very first time
we met him, he called out to Krishna like they were old friends,"
Affranchi said after finishing a simple meal of vegetable soup and
bread.
Michel had brought up Krishna again during dinner, and this was
his response.
"Huh? Yes, I remember. A flashy dresser, a bit of a pretentious-
looking fellow," Madras replied.
"So, you're just going to let things turn out however they will?!"
Michel complained, tossing his empty plate into the cooking pot in
frustration.
"Yeah..." Affranchi's voice slipped into that drawn-out sound, as if
tired. "We have no time to worry about such matters. I'm going to
explain tomorrow's operation. Meet me on the bridge of Air Force 2."
Affranchi bent forward as he left their makeshift tent. He peeked
into the one where Rey rested, then headed off toward the grove
where Air Force 2 waited.
"He's in a hurry..."
Seeing Fares stand up, Madras murmured quietly.
"Isn't that good? Maybe he realized it's time. Didn't you figure this
would happen?"
Fares began gathering up the dirty dishes, intending to clean up
after the meal.
"You should listen in too, Fares. Come on."
"Is that allowed?"
"It's fine. Joe, call me if anything happens, all right?"
Madras called out to Joe, who remained curled in his sleeping bag.
Then he took Fares along toward the Air Force.
"At Hamar, they had some back-and-forth with Mother Metatron,
but it's too late now to start panicking. We still need to search for
Keran and Saes's bodies, yet that doesn't even cross his mind."
"That's old news. Modern warfare is a dirty business. I'm sure he's
realized that too," said Fares.
"Maybe..."
Madras's misgivings would soon be validated when he heard
Affranchi's plan.
Inside Air Force 2's bridge, Rodriguez Caroço's pilots and
mechanics had gathered, making it a bit cramped. After Affranchi
finished explaining the mission, they all sighed, equal parts relief and
dismay, causing the stuffy air to quiver.
"The main challenge after the missile attack will be uniting the
second wave of man-machine forces," Affranchi concluded.
At this, Fares de Minne, a newcomer to their circle, raised her voice
first.
"Missiles on Nouveau Paris?!"
"As a resistance member, does that bother you?"
Affranchi stood before a display centered on Nouveau Paris,
printing out the map of where the second wave from Mother
Metatron would descend.
"That's not the point. Carpet-bombing the MHA occupied zones
with a mass of missiles is too reckless!"
Madras couldn't help but agree. It was indeed a brutal strategy.
"When was this decided?"
Michel's voice rose, indignant.
"After seeing tonight's results. Rodriguez, send code SS-42 by laser
to Mother Metatron."
"Wait a second..."
Madras grabbed Affranchi's arm.
"Caroço, send the code," Affranchi said, not shaking off Madras's
grip, understanding his feelings.
"Then our recon meant nothing? Keran and Saes died for nothing!"
With hollow cheeks and eyes that bore exhaustion, Madras looked
utterly defeated.
"That's not true. It was meaningful. Without you, we wouldn't
know how widely tanks like Ul's are deployed across the continent. At
Hamar in Norway, we never got that intel."
"Metatron's main plan was to destroy MHA with manmachines,
avoiding large-scale environmental damage!"
Michel pressed on.
"I don't want any more needless casualties. We've realized that if
we don't settle this in one decisive stroke, we'll be the ones wiped
out. Besides, Mother Metatron shows no sign of supplying the
reinforcements we initially expected. That leaves only this option, to
force their cooperation through these means."
"So the old-timers in orbit betrayed you? Or was your plan too rash
from the start?"
"Both," Affranchi said calmly. "That's why I apologized to Rey."
Affranchi glanced at Rodriguez and the console panel. The
message was simple, coded. Transmission completed, Rodriguez now
waited for Mother Metatron's reply.
"Large-scale missile strikes will ruin the vegetation that's slowly
recovering in Europe," Fares pointed out.
"Reports from Totto show MHA already damaging forests. We
discussed such tactics at Hamar with Kross-Hansen and got Admiral
Azaria's approval."
"Mother Metatron's been observing from stationary orbit."
"Then they know we can't afford to wait."
Affranchi wanted to voice his fears about Mother Metatron's
situation but held back. On the frontline, sharing personal
speculations was taboo.
"We have a reply. Decoding now, give us a moment," Rodriguez
said.
He then turned to Madras.
"Madras, Affranchi didn't mention it, but there's another reason."
Rodriguez's look asked permission; Affranchi nodded slightly as he
moved toward the hatch.
"With the ionosphere improving, we can intercept transmissions
from Asia at Hamar. Looks like Hong Kong MHA is on the move too."
"Hong Kong MHA!"
Everyone fell silent, speechless.
"They're approaching Europe's eastern gateway, so it's said. Just a
small fleet..."
Rodriguez received a decoded memo, gave a grim smile, and stood.
"Air Force 3 will meet us as the vanguard of the second wave. The
rest of the Air Forces and man-machines will descend into Europe
after the missile barrage."
After reading it to everyone, he handed the paper to Affranchi.
"The old farts in space are getting it together. Messer and the
others will deploy from Hamar. Tomorrow, we'll have simultaneous
missile bombardment, encirclement, and second wave convergence.
Get some rest; we have little time."
"Sir!"
Everyone on the bridge saluted. Affranchi smiled and descended
the steps.
2

"Affranchi..."
Madras and Michel followed him outside. Fares also left, after
bidding the Air Force 2 crew goodbye, and went after them.
"See? Just as I said," Fares commented from the foot of the rampas
Madras held out his hand.
"We're stuck in an information vacuum. Anyone would be upset."
"But you should also use your imagination to consider what others
are dealing with," she added with a slight smile. Then she walked over
toward Affranchi, who stood as if waiting near Rey's tent. The dew-
laden grass clung to her feet.
"Yes?"
"If your people are spread widely across Europe, I have a favor,"
Affranchi said.
"If possible," Fares answered.
"After the missile strike, Metatron's second-wave manmachines will
drop around Nouveau Paris. Some will be shot down. We'd like you to
help retrieve their pilots, to aid them. But before that, I need you to
pull your people out of a 100-kilometer radius around Nouveau Paris."
He handed Fares a printed map.
"By when?"
"By dawn."
"Time?"
"I can't say exactly, but better finish by around 9 AM."
"That's too little time for such a tough job. And you want it done
discreetly so MHA doesn't catch on, right?"
"Sorry. You guessed it."
"Then I need to move to somewhere with phone access
immediately," Fares said.
"Please do. I don't want to involve allies I've just met as collateral
damage."
"Thank you. Wish we'd met earlier."
Fares folded the map and tucked it into her pocket, winking at him.
"Hamar should send more accurate intel on the SS code. If you
intercept it, you'll grasp our full plan."
"I see. I'll try," she replied. She seemed impressed by how different
Affranchi was now compared to her first impression of him, he was
decisive. A good woman knew how to recognize change.
"Fares..."
Madras, stunned, looked back and forth between Affranchi and
Fares.
"You're good with that, Madras? I understand now that what's
happening at Nouveau Paris is tactically inevitable. You don't want to
just let them do as they please, do you?"
"Of course not," Madras muttered.
"Jacob! We're heading out!"
Fares shouted toward their tent, then turned to Affranchi with a
nod and slipped an arm around Madras's waist as they headed to their
jeep.
"Madras and Fares... So that's how it is?"
Affranchi asked Michel as he watched them walk away.
"Who knows? I sure don't," Michel answered.
"So Madras was waiting for a woman like that," Affranchi mused.
"You dislike her?"
"Just the opposite. She's smart, strong..."
He felt a sudden rush of emotion, as if seeing the shape of a man-
and-woman relationship for the first time in a while. Embarrassed, he
cut himself off and turned toward their tent.
Madras was always too dutiful, accepting his ideological stance
easily but never comfortable with loving a woman who shared his
organization. Now Affranchi saw a change.
The tent, sealed to keep out light, had grown muggy from even a
single lantern's warmth. Joe lay curled on a camp bed, clutching his
sleeping bag tight.
Seeing Joe's hunched form made Affranchi recall the adult aura
Madras and Fares had exuded, and he felt his own vulnerability once
again.
"Better sleep what little I can..."
Affranchi murmured to himself, unrolling his sleeping bag.
"What's that?"
Michel, bumping into him as they readied their bedding, asked.
"Nothing..."
Affranchi slipped inside his sleeping bag, glancing at Joe's restless
form out the corner of his eye. Michel lay down between them.
"It's true. We lost Keran and Saes, and now the Air Force is gone,"
Michel said after a pause.
"Yes... Sometimes you have to take bold measures to break a
stalemate," Affranchi replied, eyes closed. He wondered when Air
Force 3 would arrive, hoping to catch a bit of rest before then.
"Madras didn't command poorly. MHA's ground-support tank was
stronger than expected," Michel continued.
"I know. If I'd arrived one hour earlier, Madras's team wouldn't have
been annihilated," said Affranchi.
"Then please tell him that. If you know it, let him know."
"Thanks for the advice," Affranchi answered. He already realized he
must show more appreciation.
The jeep's engine noise faded into the distance. A little later,
Madras returned to the tent.
"Sorry, Madras," Affranchi said softly. "Michel scolded me. He says I
rely on you all too much and never show enough gratitude..."
"I didn't say it like that," Michel mumbled, half-asleep.
"Heh... what's this all of a sudden? Besides, you're still lying down."
Madras chuckled, setting up his sleeping bag before extinguishing
the lantern and crawling in beside Affranchi.
Through the sleeping mat and bag, Affranchi felt the reassuring
solidity of the earth beneath him. Even an hour's rest on this ground
would restore him, he believed.
Madras shifted closer in the darkness.
"Hey... you didn't intentionally send Krishna to MHA, did you?" he
asked quietly, using a tone reserved for just the two of them.
Affranchi, growing sleepy, tried to parse Madras's odd suspicion.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because your reaction was too indifferent," Madras said.
"If I were capable of such plots, I'd have crushed MHA more
skillfully and worn the face of a true Metatron leader," Affranchi
grunted, a bit more awake now.
"That's not really an answer."
"I said I could understand Krishna's actions, remember?"
"Oh... You mean as a woman?"
"Yes. Get some sleep now," Affranchi sighed.
"Right..."
Madras's sigh and breaths were swallowed by the darkness, as
were Michel's and Joe's soft snores. The darkness felt heavier.
"What's her plan...?" Affranchi wondered.
Krishna's presence with Ul might mirror Affranchi's own aimless
journey that led him from the South Pacific island into space. He, too,
had drifted without a clear goal before ending up heading an
organization close to a military faction. Though his birth had a
complicated background, perhaps they shared a certain
purposelessness.
"If I was bound by fate as a clone of the historical figure Char
Aznable, then my life on that South Pacific island was a shadow
existence."
Aflanche began to feel the earth's pulse fully against his back.
"But just as I fled from island life, perhaps for Krishna, life with
Metatron was the shadow existence she fled from... yet I long to
return to my shadow part, the island..."
This led him to imagine that Krishna too might return to her
shadow self.
"However, just because cloning is technically possible, I've come to
understand that adults who believe in the Char Continuity Operation
and anti-Federation movements are just beings bound by convention.
Then I realize that my shadow existence - being raised by Gaba Suu
and marrying Everly Key, was actually my entire truth..."
While this might seem like narrow thinking, isn't it more dangerous
when people are bound by illusions created in the past?
Especially the habit of prejudice...
Isn't animal society fundamentally about protecting offspring born
from male-female relationships? Shouldn't we be wary of everything
else, even as attributes of wisdom?
Affranchi smiled bitterly. Yet here he was, shouldering an
organization called Mother Metatron and confronting humanity's dire
problems.
"It's inconvenient that I must solve these problems. And if it's done
by some other personality inside me, then I wouldn't exist at all. I can't
allow that. I'm Affranchi Char, Everly Key's husband..."
He pressed his back against the earth, feeling its grand pulse.
Imagining Everly Key on the other side of the world, her heartbeat
echoing through the ground's fabric, comforted him.
Then there was something.
Not a sound, but a sensation. Every cell in his back formed a
thread connecting him to Earth, seeking Everly Key behind the globe.
"Everly!"
In that warm southern tide's blue, her brown form wavered.
Affranchi's entire being raced toward the pulse of that floating
body.
The scent and radiance emitted by that young, taut flesh held
within its depths a wave-like blood pulse, welcoming him.
He sensed it.
"Ah! Just being buried in Every would be perfect..."
However, his physiological cry remained covered by the massive
shell of real-world entanglements, unable to reach the woman.
"I'm going back."
Suddenly, a crewman called out in the dark.
"Affranchi Char! Air Force 3 is here!"
3

Affranchi and his group revved up their electric bikes, their hearts
racing with the engines' roar through the pre-dawn air. As the team
halted, their lights stabbed the dimness.
"Seems heavy. Maybe they brought supplies," Michel yawned,
rubbing his eyes.
"Headlights on!"
At Affranchi's order, several bike headlights cut slender beams
across the barren ground. The eastern sky faintly glowed, outlining
the horizon.
A single Air Force craft appeared. It should carry only three man-
machines, yet from Michel's guess, it seemed more like a cargo-laden
ship. The atmosphere hinted that Michel was right.
With a deep rumble, Air Force 3 skated just above the ground
before settling at the rendezvous point.
"Reinforcements from Mother Metatron..."
Affranchi dismounted and felt the tremor of the hover nozzles
through the earth. He disliked relying on that organization, but to
finalize this battle, their support was vital. A smell he didn't want to
inhale, of the organization, hung in the air.
With a thunderous roar, nozzles blasted rocks and dust. Once the
landing gear anchored to the earth, Affranchi swung onto his bike and
approached Air Force 3.
Its bay hatch opened. A single Dochadi rose up and hovered off,
darkness hiding its movements. No deck lights, just shifting
silhouettes. The Dochadi began camouflaging Air Force 3.
No bridge lights either; only the red glow of their bikes lit the
ground below.
"Good work! Glad you made it safely!"
A sense of camaraderie among Air Force pilots seemed to energize
Madras. He charged up the lowered ramp and leapt into the bridge.
"Michel, looks like just one man-machine. The rest must be
supplies. Hurry and check," Affranchi ordered.
"On it!"
Michel dashed up the ramp. Mechanics from Air Force 2, who'd
come by bike, crawled under the frame to check the landing gear,
their flashlight beams dancing
Affranchi confirmed nothing suspicious and followed the others up.
"Here, these are the admiral's confirmations,"
Miranda Howe greeted him at the hatch, businesslike, extending a
file.
"Hm... Thanks. They didn't give you a hard time, did they?"
Affranchi tried to sound detached. Miranda, holding a penlight over
the file, helped him read.
"Different standpoints: space and Earth. Hard to explain," she said.
"This message is considerate of my position, but says nothing of
what comes after this operation, despite Admiral Azariah's personal
note..."
Affranchi felt Miranda's body heat close by and was glad, though
he remained ice-calm in his mind.
"Yes..."
Miranda offered no reassurance, halting her words.
"If you know something, please tell me,"
"Nothing concrete. But the old admirals feel your presence gives
Metatron a new cohesion. That's why they accepted a bombing plan
now."
"So they're not wholeheartedly supporting it?"
"Exactly..."
Miranda slipped past Affranchi and went down the ramp, heading
toward the craft's nose. He followed silently.
The mechanics had moved toward the tail nozzles, their flashlights
no longer visible.
"Miranda..."
Affranchi lightly embraced her from the front, resting his face
against her chest. He drew in her scent and warmth, her hand on his
shoulder reassuring him.
"It's tough, isn't it?" she asked softly.
"Sure is. I never thought I'd see you at such an hour... I'm happy."
He spoke into her bosom. Then he raised his face, gently pressed
his lips to hers.
"Okay?" Miranda teased. "It's not good news I have to share."
"Hmm, It might be the report I'm hoping for."
Affranchi said, flipping through the file. Miranda shone the penlight
for him.
"Oh..."
Miranda reached for Affranchi's lips. "Sorry, I got lipstick on you."
She wiped it off gently.
"It seems the old guard plan to offer Mother Metatron, this huge
warship, to the Federation in exchange for amnesty. They'll let the
anti-Federation charges slip and fold themselves into the
government."
When she finished, Miranda's finger left his lips.
Affranchi stood stunned, but not shocked.
"No proof, just whispers..."
"It aligns with what the admiral's note implies. So the grown-ups
want to quit, huh?"
"That's adulthood, I guess. And I guess the original staff aged
enough just waiting for Char Aznable's clone to regenerate," Miranda
said.
"So my initial unease with Mother Metatron was justified,"
Affranchi murmured.
"Will you give up?"
"No. The missile barrage is set. MHA will move. The second wave
will come. We can't run now."
He shrugged and slapped the file closed.
"Everything okay?"
From the ramp, Madras's voice called.
"Fine, we're done,"
"Great," Madras said, sounding pleased, perhaps thinking Affranchi
and Miranda had a private moment.
That too was one layer of truth. Affranchi had no intention of
telling Madras, a dedicated Metatron staffer, about Miranda's
revelations.

Some time earlier.

"It's impossible that they only sent one reinforcement," crackled
Captain Bijan Dargol's voice from the darkness, over a covert radio.
"Understood."
His voice was gloomy as a general in the shadows.
Krishna sat hunched at the anti-air gun seat in Bushing Nugg's
bridge, listening to Ul's conversation.
"One last personal thought?" Ul said.
"Is it safe if we're overheard?"
"I don't believe they can break through our decoder."
"Speak."
Krishna perked her ears, forgetting her fatigue.
"I sense the enemy will use missiles."
"That's what you think... You know why I sent you there?" Dargol
asked.
"Yes, sir! I've completed checking all interception missile bases."
"Then that's all."
Communication ended.
The Bushing Nugg raced full speed toward Nouveau Paris.
"Krishna, get to bed. That's an order."
"Yes..."
"Lieutenant Urian, please do the same."
"Ah, I'll take you up on that. The enemy's full-scale attack will come
soon. Don't neglect radar surveillance," Ul warned the pilot Gerant
Alsa, who was thrilled to return to Nouveau Paris, where his lover
waited, and so full of energy.
Krishna went behind the bridge to the cramped bunk area, lying
down on what looked like an old-style sleeping shelf.
"...?"
Ul dragged a folding chair into the narrow passage beside Krishna's
bunk and sat down.
"This is MHA's special tonic. Good for nerves and the eyes," he
said, offering a brass cup.
"If it keeps me awake, that's a problem."
"It's fine."
Krishna sipped, feeling oddly at ease despite Ul's forwardness.
"What's this about?" she asked.
"I just wanted to look at your face... Is that so wrong?"
It was a bold statement, but not unpleasant.
"Metatron would never attack Nouveau Paris with missiles. They
hate large-scale environmental destruction. They planned a difficult
man-machine fight to take down MHA."
"That was until yesterday. Metatron doesn't show its true colors to
young members like you."
"But..."
Krishna, reminded that she never truly saw Metatron's depths, fell
silent. She felt a sudden sense of betrayal.
"I get that you tried to like Metatron, but it's not so noble."
"Why?"
"Looking only at Captain Dargol's aim to establish an independent
nation on Earth, MHA might seem to ignore Earth's natural
regeneration. But that's not quite right. Humans always need an
enemy to ensure humanity's eternal survival, to put pressure on the
Federation government, complacent atop its democracy of common
citizens."
"Creating evil to maintain tension?"
"Not evil. MHA only thinks about humanity's eternal survival in
Earth's sphere. This goal should be fundamentally the same as
Metatron's."
"But their methods differ,"
"Of course. I told you about that, didn't I? Metatron is an
organization that's essentially a collection of common rabble's
confusion, rigid at the top and immature below, no guiding aesthetic."
"Aesthetic? Organizational theory?" Krishna was baffled.
"Aesthetic, morality, call it what you will. As the organization grew,
Metatron unconsciously became a mini Federation government, with
rigid thinking and an immature body."
"That still doesn't connect to Metatron launching a missile attack
on Nouveau Paris."
"When an organization becomes huge and starts making decisions
based on coordinating various people's opinions to find the greatest
common denominator, seeing last night's combat unit annihilation will
make Metatron rush to settle things."
"Ah..."
"Consideration like wanting to avoid human casualties leads to
such decisions."
"You're saying that's trivial judgment? Without aesthetics?"
"That's right."
Ul gently rested his face on Krishna's chest and continued, "The
issue is that with time, the former vanguard becomes conservative.
Militarily, it's not wrong to strike MHA even at the cost of destroying
Europe's recovering forests. But the moment that operation is
implemented, Metatron will be branded as far-right extremist. Their
leaders won't anticipate that, and they'll just blame each other."
"And MHA bringing Metatron down to Earth is forgivable?"
"Forgive or not, after winning, MHA will declare independence. No
one can judge them."
Krishna had no immediate response to this. She too had sense that
Metatron had the problems Ul pointed out. The elderly at the
organization's top had become full-time Metatron activists, naturally
becoming conservative. Among Metatron's members were followers
of the Principality of Zeon, who had plotted Space Colony
independence in the early Space Colony era.
At the same time, there were followers of other ideologies and
organizations.
Factions sprouting there and becoming a hotbed of conservatism
was a typical organizational habit.
"But if MHA and Captain Dargol have aesthetics they believe in,
why won't they tell the world about them?"
"Try doing that and see. All sorts of riffraff would gather at our new
nation on Earth, making it a worthless state. The captain's vision of an
Earth independent nation is one of highly selected elites. A group of
people who can appreciate Wagner. Without selectivity, we'd repeat
Federation and Metatron's history.
For the first time, Ul directed a sharp gaze at Krishna as he rested
both elbows on the bed.
"Then what about those forced laborers?"
"They're just construction and civil engineering drones. Once the
work is done, they'll be sent to the gas chambers."
"What?!"
Krishna sat up, shocked by how casually Ul mentioned something
so terrible.
"We've entered an age where people must be selected. Metatron
does the same thing."
"Metatron does?"
"Think about it. The dubious nature of Metatron's Char Operation
has hints of white supremacy. Wagner is merely a metaphysical
symbol in the form of music, but the Char Operation is blatant."
"I'm a woman with Asian blood. You can't say that."
"Organizations show superficial compromises during their growth
process."
"That's... Are space colonies just dumping grounds for abandoned
people?"
"At the start, yes. And in the future, it'll happen again."
Krishna thought of her slum-like colony, Helas, and realized the
hopelessness of it all. Krishna had believed Metatron's activities were
necessary for fundamental reform after seeing humans living in old-
century conditions even in Space Colonies.
But now she was realizing that might be wrong.
Of course, she didn't believe everything in Ul's logic. But there was
some truth in his reasoning.
"...I really am caught between it all," Krishna muttered.
Ul climbed into the upper bunk, leaving her alone with her
confusion.
"It'll be dawn soon," he said from above.
"Yeah..." Krishna answered absently, wishing she could sleep.
She thought of Affranchi, who had Miranda Howe like a mother-
figure by his side, and the scent of marriage hovering around him.
That terrified Krishna. She tested Affranchi by revealing her alliance
with Ul, unconsciously using the situation. The outcome no longer
mattered, but it had forced her to fire on Madras and Joe, exacting a
cruel price.
"Ugh... Uuuuh!"
Unbidden, tears ran down Krishna's cheeks as the Bushing Nugg
rattled on. She wept herself into an uneasy sleep that lasted only a
few hours.
For at that time, from geostationary orbit, Mother Metatron
unleashed a concentrated missile barrage on the environs of Nouveau
Paris.
"Missiles detected! All hands up!"
"Prepare anti-air combat!"
Shouts rang out. Krishna leapt from bed, forgetting her grief. She
scrambled back to her gunner's seat.
Gerant cried out, "There! Look!"
Roughly ten kilometers out, dozens of white streaks lanced down
silently from the dawn sky, descending vertically before leveling off
and heading southwest, vanishing beyond the conifer forests.
"If we can observe this many here, how many missiles did Metatron
use overall!?"
Ul howled in dismay, realizing the interception bases he'd checked
were far too sluggish to respond.
"If any of those are nuclear, Metatron's the enemy of mankind!"
He yelled, but inside Krishna's head, she fiercely denied that
possibility.
Chapter.10
First Step

The chain of explosions shook the earth to its very core. They
gouged deep wounds into the soil, scorched forests to blackened
skeletons, pulverized stone-built structures into gravel and dust, and
transformed once-gentle farmlands into a barren wilderness.
If it is "natural" for the land to rebuff human interference, then one
could almost say these hellish flames and scorching winds were a
means to return the world to an ancient past. Indeed, for the Earth
Federation government, who had been publicly denying the existence
of cities like Nouveau Paris until the planet's ecology recovered, this
catastrophe ironically restored the official narrative they had clung to.
It was as though reality had been forced back into the box they had
claimed was truth all along.
Captain Bijan Dargol's MHA faction had hoped to establish an
independent Earth-based nation, precisely by making use of those
unacknowledged towns as footholds. Compared to high-ranking
Federation officials who sought to bend the laws in secret or exploit
their privilege to gain exclusive rights to Earth's resettlement, MHA's
ambitions were oddly transparent, easier even for an organization like
Metatron to confront and manage.
Yet part of Europe's slowly regenerating forests had been
incinerated, and though the region was sparsely populated, tens of
thousands of scattered inhabitants, illicit settlers, all of them, vanished
into the inferno. If these horrors had been unleashed by some cosmic
decree, mankind and Earth alike would have to bow their heads
before such a fate.
But this was no act of nature.
It was the fire wielded by the organization led by Affranchi Char.
Earth's sole stroke of luck was that Mother Metatron had refrained
from using nuclear missiles. Metatron's network certainly had the
capacity to procure them, considering nuclear power was still used for
propelling small asteroids into Earth's sphere. But Affranchi and
Mother Metatron, acting with at least a sliver of decency, strove for
"clean" strikes.
Meanwhile, MHA, desperate to build an independent Earth state,
stuck to conventional missiles out of fear of radioactive
contamination. This grim compromise spared the world a nuclear
winter.
All the same, to prevent a stalemate, the bombing had been
excessive. There were grave concerns that the aftermath might
approach the conditions of a nuclear winter, minus only the radiation.
The MHA flagship under Captain Bijan Dargol, the distinctly shaped
MHA Gayjisu, managed to survive direct hits and close-proximity
blasts by deploying its beam barrier, allowing it to gain altitude and
escape immediate destruction.
Inside that ship, Captain Dargol cursed his own misjudgment. He
could not ignore the bitter truth: if Ul Urian had not voiced his
suspicions about a bombing early that morning, even he would not
have made it aboard this ship in time.
"I was too slow calling in Kong Kong MHA..." Dargol bit his lip as if
tasting defeat for the first time in his life. "Did I underestimate
Metatron, treated them like some civic movement?"
In the violently trembling bridge, Lieutenant Simnau Abahn, one of
the tactical aides, turned a pale face to him.
"We made such a naïve assumption?"
"No, sir... We knew what Mother Metatron was capable of. This
level of bombardment was always within their means," came a voice
from behind Abahn. It was Lieutenant Marissa Najis, her lips dry and
cracked.
"Exactly. We were too full of ourselves to properly weigh the
simulations," Dargol admitted with a touch of grim self-mockery. "We
ignored the results more than once."
"Yes..." Abahn and Najis could feel genuine remorse coloring
Dargol's words. The man they had thought aloof and imperious was
now openly acknowledging his faults. This capacity to face his own
failings hinted at a resilience that might just restore their fortunes.
Najis liked that about him, this hidden, human side beneath the aloof
facade.
"Estimate how many of our ships remain and how functional the
ground-based interception missile sites were," Dargol ordered. "I need
projections."
"Yes, sir." The two mid-level officers braced themselves, relaying
orders to their subordinates, who struggled to run simulations as the
ship continued to shake violently from side to side.
2

Rodriguez Caroço's Air Force 2 hovered at a distance, the blinding

flashes of the bombing over Nouveau Paris still visible on the horizon.
Buffeted by radio interference from the chain of explosions, the crew
tried desperately to track enemy movements. Far below them,
Affranchi's Gaia Gear was likewise holding its breath in the sky, lurking
silent and watchful.
He did not believe this bombardment would annihilate the MHA
leadership. His forces were spread along a northern defensive line,
while Messer's unit fortified the western front. With this deployment,
they planned to intercept any MHA ships attempting escape and then
unite with the second wave descending from Mother Metatron. The
eastern flank was left open, simply because Affranchi's forces lacked
the strength for a full encirclement. After all, leaving an avenue of
escape was an age-old tactic. Cornering a foe too completely often
provokes a desperate last stand, handing your pursuers a nasty
surprise. If some slipped through, they could be hunted down later.
"This is the best we can do..."
The recognition weighed heavily on him, how tragic that he, who
never sought leadership, was now forced to display it. Even if people
doubted his virtue and capacity, he had no defense. Miranda Howe's
words from this morning still pressed on his heart.
"Maybe I made a mistake sending you out into space. Adding
someone like you to Metatron did give the organization a new focus,
but those old men just took it as confirmation that their movement
was noble and valuable, without ever acknowledging what you really
brought us."
They had spoken just before his sortie.
"Then I guess I was too hasty deciding to play along as Char's
second coming if it made them happy," he replied.
"Maybe so... And maybe I'm the one who pushed you into that,"
Miranda had sighed.
Still, his survival until now had shown him that both Metatron and
MHA had once contained sparks of human ingenuity, genuine virtues
among their aims. That wasn't nothing. Yet having witnessed the
ambiguity and half-measures of the anti-Federation sentiment
festering in Europe, and the total defeat of Madras' unit, he could no
longer stomach playing the role of a resurgent Char. As Ul had told
Krishna, and as Fares had suggested, Affranchi now knew the true
pain of combat. The comfortable hold of the colossal Mother
Metatron, where elderly leaders could indulge their strategic fantasies,
offered them no sense of the brutal reality below.
Sometimes an organization forms a cage where inconvenient
truths need not be acknowledged. Affranchi saw a path forward: if
Metatron, as an organization, could perform some action that let it
achieve self-contained fulfillment and then dissolve, he could finally
return to Everly. He believed it would conclude naturally if they were
allowed to complete this one last mission.

"All I get to do is wait...?" grumbled Rey, seated on the bridge of

Rodriguez's Air Force 2 alongside Madras and others. She was
annoyed that she remained cut off from Messer's unit she had hoped
to join. Restlessness stole over her, reminiscent of the days she'd
drifted as a street gang in the colony, isolated and hollow.
"Are we fine with the shift of the units that deployed from Hamar?"
Madras asked Rodriguez, ignoring Rey's frustration.
"Messer's holding a western line near Paris, waiting for the drop
units. He's good at this," said Rodriguez.
"Hmph." Rey shrugged her shoulders and snorted. She was in no
mood to be impressed.
"Oh, Affranchi was upset he couldn't arrange a funeral for Keran
and Saes," he added, hoping to soothe Rey's sour mood.
Madras glanced between Rodriguez and Rey, his mouth twisting
into a wry shape. Joe's eyes, red and hollow, flicked open for a
moment before he shut them again.
"Hey, I'm picking something up," said Michel, seated before Madras
and glaring intently at the radar screen.
"It's the Gaia Gear!"
"The Gaia Gear!" Rodriguez's shout rang out.
Sure enough, the Gaia Gear's outline rose from below into view
through the forward window of the Air Force craft. Affranchi's voice
came over the comm line.
"I'm moving east. I sense enemy activity."
"Is that so? What about our allied units?" Rodriguez asked.
"They're dropping in. I can feel it," said Affranchi.
"Linking up won't be quick," Michel warned. His radar was only now
distinguishing friendly signatures closing in from above.
"Man-Machines, prepare for launch!" Rodriguez ordered his three
pilots. The Gaia Gear pushed forward, leading the way.
Rey watched Gaia Gear's imposing silhouette, thinking of the
young pilot inside.
"Back when Affranchi told us to become man-machine pilots, he
said we delinquints needed to find something worth doing just to
keep living..." Back then, it felt like he was just riding a wave of
Metatron's praise.
"So, what does Metatron do after crushing MHA, huh?" Rey jabbed
her elbow into Madras's side.
"MHA's a secret police force. Wipe it out, cripple Dargol's plan to
create an independent Earth nation," Madras recited the Metatron
line.
"And after that?" Rey's irritation spiked.
"What, send all of humanity back into the colonies so we can
preserve a more harmonious coexistence with nature? If that makes
people in the lunar and Earth colonies get real about their
responsibilities, maybe humanity will wise up," Madras explained.
"Huh. Aff said something else: even if humanity gets wiser,
society's another beast," Rey retorted. Affranchi was called "Aff" by
Messer's men as a slight jab.
"You mean the necessary evils of organizations?" Madras ventured.
"Exactly. Every group has a boss, and if the young guys get strong
enough, they'll kick the old boss out and start another crew. The
factional feuds never end. That's humans for you."
"That's why Metatron stuck to an elite core," Madras said.
"But when punks like us joined up, the unity broke down, right?"
Rey pressed.
"No, it just meant the old guard finally became old guard in truth,"
Madras answered.
"Yeah, and now those old timers look at us like dirt, then shove us
to the front lines where we die for their cause," Rey said, voice
brimming with resentment.
"Affranchi doesn't see it like that," Madras snapped.
"How would I know that?" Rey scoffed.
"Affranchi's under enormous pressure. That's why he made this
call," Madras said.
"Sure he is," Rey muttered, thinking that even if Madras and
Affranchi were not alike, they were still on the same team after all.
"Anyway, I hate that Messer's not here. It doesn't sit right with me."
"Messer's gotten stronger. That Totto guy has been a good
influence," Rodriguez commented.
"Great, so that justifies Saes's death?!" Rey's voice cracked.
"Rey, quit it," Joe's voice rose gently, urging her to calm down.
"Right! Braus! Dekken, Harumel, get ready to launch! Opening the
hatch!" Rodriguez's sudden command swept tension across the
bridge. Air Force 2 decelerated, readying to launch the man-machines.

Even at full combat density of Minovsky particles, the Gaia Gear's

psycommu system allowed Affranchi to sense enemies. To him, it felt
like the faint sound of the cosmos calling, a subtle resonance rather
than a tangible sight.
He detected about five enemy ships he believed to be MHA's.
Threads of presence stretched out from these masses, the sign of
approaching man-machines, surely.
The area scourged by the Metatron bombardment was enveloped
in colossal mushrooming clouds. High above, the sky seemed empty,
stripped even of the slightest trace of life. It felt like a hollow, a
vacuum of silence.
As Affranchi perceived this "emptiness," he understood its
significance.
"We should never do this. A world where not even a single bird can
fly is death incarnate. To burn away every insect, every bacterium in
the soil!"
The memory of the sea came back to him, how even the clearest
ocean teemed with plankton and microbes that purified the water and
nourished life. Drinking that seawater harmed no one because life's
purity lies not in emptiness but in a subtle, living tapestry.
Because Affranchi could feel that truth, he was fundamentally
different from Char Aznable, the so-called "son of space." Even with
identical genetics, the southern islands that nurtured Affranchi had
shaped him into something Char never was.
"If letting this happen was my recklessness, then MHA's dream of
privatizing Earth for their own cause, and humanity's complicity, none
of it's forgivable."
That thought stung him.
He ordered three of his man-machines, all Dochadi, to fan out
about three kilometers to his left and right, forming a line behind the
Gaia GEar.
"Incoming!" he warned.
The Gaia Gear surged ahead.
Before them stretched rolling hills once covered in forests. On the
ridgeline, a black speck appeared, followed by a storm of tracer fire.
The enemy was desperate to break through, whatever it took.
The four man-machines pulled up, evading the lethal barrage, but
now they drifted into the zone where enemy units soared above,
ready to engage.
"Gotta hold until Messer's southern support gets here..."
Affranchi's unit had to hold out. Otherwise, they'd be forced to
fight a losing battle, or retreat. Their opponents numbered over
twenty.
"Fall back!" Affranchi commanded. Leading the formation, the Gaia
Gear took defensive maneuvers. The enemy had enough man-
machines to overwhelm them, yet only left a single battle squadron to
engage Affranchi's group while the other four ships maintained a tight
low-altitude defensive formation.
In the aerial skirmish between four friendly and three hostile man-
machines, Affranchi's side destroyed just one Gussa. He had been too
focused on shielding his wingmen from casualties, guarding them
from above rather than pursuing the retreating enemy vessels.
"Where are they headed!?"
Frustrated, Affranchi regrouped with Air Force 2, which had
remained high overhead, awaiting the end of the skirmish.

Having reunited with Messer's unit guiding in the second man-

machine wave, and now awaiting contact with Air Force 3, where
Miranda had been dropped, Affranchi's group assembled in the ruins
of Besançon, along the Doubs River in the old French region.
In ancient centuries, it must have been a tranquil town. Now, most
wooden and plaster buildings lay crumbled, consumed by nature's
slow reclamation. Only paved stones hinted at the old streets.
Affranchi and his people took over the remains of what had once
been a stone-built hotel, turning the empty shell into makeshift
quarters.
"From the number of intercepted missiles, it's clear they never got
their entire missile defense network operational," said Madras,
summarizing. "They had plenty of vehicles deployed on land, so they
must have been setting up an interception net. But they couldn't
finish the job."
"That they tried to move north into old German territory suggests
they wanted to rebuild an arms industry base," Miranda Howe chimed
in. "Since that plan failed, they'll probably try contacting Hong Kong
MHA next to figure out a way to recoup their losses."
"Deep Europe is rugged mountain country, poor but with a rich
historical tapestry. During the era of space migration, it was one of
the most resistant regions to the move," she continued.
"All we can do is wait for intel from Fares and Kross-Hansen,"
Affranchi said, dismissing his staff. "Mother Metatron's reconnaissance
will come in soon enough."
"Got that?" At the doorway without a door, Totto and Messer
appeared, guided by Rey. Affranchi stood waiting.
"Hey, Aff," Messer growled.
"If hitting me makes you feel better, go ahead," Affranchi said,
words deliberately rough. "If after that you want to leave Metatron,
fine, but I won't lend you a man-machine."
Miranda looked uneasy. Totto raised a hand as if calming the
waters. "Messer just wants at least a funeral for Saes."
Totto spoke gently, surprisingly so for a man forced down to Earth
by MHA. Adversity had taught him compassion. But Messer remained
unmoved.
"We fought and bled together. I'm not saying you killed my friend,
but that's how it ended. I've seen it with Krishna too, seems like you
treat people like pawns in an army. I can't abide that."
Affranchi lowered his gaze for a moment before replying, "I admit I
lack the finesse. I want to wrap this up before Mother Metatron
leaves geostationary orbit, so I've been pushing too hard. Sure, I like
Krishna, but I can't deploy a whole man-machine unit just for one
person. Messer, you understood that, didn't you?"
"I did then, and I appreciated it. But it still felt cold."
"That cuts both ways..." Affranchi suppressed a bitter smile. Messer
had a point.
"What's your endgame?" Messer demanded. "Are you going to
keep doing this until we're all dead?"
"If Mother Metatron disappears, I'll stop. They'll see they can't
control me and give up. That's all I can do."
"See?" Totto said to Miranda and Rey, "He's not as tough as he
looks. He's trapped."
"Joe ended up crying his eyes out, and Aff set that stage too," Rey
said, voice edged with anger. "And we're supposed to just take it?"
"Too big a problem to solve with a punch," Messer spat.
"Yeah..." Affranchi looked up into Messer's tall stare.
"Bastard!" Messer snapped, and slapped Affranchi's cheek sharply
before turning his back.
"So, got any winning strategies to crush MHA?" Totto asked.
"In the worst case, I'll bring down Mother Metatron itself," Affranchi
said.
"Those stuck-up old men won't do that!" Rey sneered, splaying her
mouth wide.
Affranchi had no rebuttal. He knew it was true.
"Without that, can you pull it off?" Totto pressed.
"If I'm prepared to die in the Gaia Gear..."
"Think you can?" Totto's eyes narrowed.
"I can," Affranchi answered firmly.
"Good. Then do it. If you're willing to go that far, Messer and I will
die fighting at your side. Life or death, it's all the same in the end.
Might as well make it count," Totto said, slapping Affranchi's shoulder
roughly before throwing an arm over Messer's and turning away.
Chapter.11
Shadow in Back

Black rain was falling.

It wasn't just nuclear detonations, any massive explosion could
conjure a storm. Now that downpour was splattering across the
Bushing Nugg's hull and soon deluged it hard enough to wash off the
grime. After leaving Nouveau Paris, Ul Urian's Bushing Nugg advanced
eastward by way of Paris, gathering up scattered ground troops along
its route.
"Gerant, we'll follow this course," Ul said, forwarding one of the
plotted paths on his display to the one in front of Gerant, the pilot.
"Munchen?"
Gerant, who'd lost all hope of meeting his beloved after the
bombing of Nouveau Paris, peered at Ul with eyes that looked
painfully weary.
"Yes. If Captain Dargol survived, that'll be the next rallying point,"
Ul said.
"Yes, sir..." Gerant answered.
Rain battered the windshield even more relentlessly. Once upon a
time, in the European theater, Munchen was primed to become
MHA's fourth main base, and it was also the nearest site for linking up
with the Hong Kong MHA fleet supposedly headed all the way to
Istanbul.
Ul himself intended to depart solo as soon as he got the Bromb
Texter fully serviced. The displays offered no new incoming intel. Ul
glanced at Krishna, who was sitting behind him on the bridge,
shoulders hunched, face lowered.
"Look, I get why you're shaken by your old friends' reckless attack.
But that Affranchi is finally starting to grasp what war really is. If he's a
man, that's something."
Ul spoke as though genuinely pleased, causing Krishna to lift her
face.
"Does seeing the color of fire make you happy?" she asked.
"That's not it. A weak opponent isn't worth beating, is all," Ul
replied.
Krishna stared at him, wondering if that was simply the way men
thought. Before she could say more, Ul went back to his display. Even
the once-vague Affranchi Char had turned into someone capable of
orchestrating such a devastating bombardment, war itself had,
perhaps, forced his hand.
A wave of sorrow washed over her at the thought that war might
transform people so drastically.
If that's true, then why can't humanity create a non-violent way out
of conflict? Instead, all our energy goes into building armies and
weapons...
Suddenly, Ul shot to his feet.
He looked as though he'd made some firm decision. Without
sparing Krishna another look, he yanked open the rear door of the
bridge and stepped out onto the deck, where the man-machines were
under repair. The expression on his face suggested that, to him,
Krishna no longer existed.
"Haaaah..."
Any trace of warmth surrounding Krishna vanished in a flash,
replaced by a biting chill. Rain still lashed at the Bushing Nugg.
"This is BN003. Good work," came Gerant's voice over the radio as
he greeted someone else. Curious, Krishna leaned toward the side
windows.
Another Bushing Nugg broke through the pounding rain from the
rear right. The land outside was a lonely sprawl of forests and
wasteland. Realizing that even this hulking metal transport carried
living people, Krishna felt oddly comforted. It was certainly better
than sharing space with someone whose chill left her feeling frozen
inside.
She tugged her jacket's collar together and let out another heavy
sigh.
"But now I'm an enemy to Joe and the others..." she murmured,
closing her eyes.
The Bushing Nugg raced onward, riding its cushion of air.

It rained in Besançon as well.

Long ago, back in ancient times when Julius Caesar first subjugated
it, this city had been a vital strategic point. Now its former grandeur
was lost beneath a sea of tangled undergrowth and saplings. Weeds
had crept between every stone, and what remained of many old stone
structures had been swallowed by the Doubs River.
On the outskirts, dilapidated wooden buildings poked up through
thickets of grass. A few stray patches of paving hinted faintly at the
old city layout, but in the rainy haze, what remained of Besançon had
reverted into a nascent forest.
Affranchi and his forces had gathered at the overgrown remains of
a small airfield several kilometers outside town. You could see tarps,
colored to blend in with the trees, standing here and there, covering
nearly twenty man-machines. Of the twenty-two man-machines that
had dropped in tandem with the bombing of Nouveau Paris, not all
had made it this far. Some were shot down by MHA missiles; others
had failed during atmospheric entry.
The five Air Force transports that had descended in protective
formation with those man-machines all carried supplies. After
offloading their cargo at Besançon, three craft remained as support,
while the other two returned to orbit. This scarcity of support staff
and equipment was the Achilles' heel of Affranchi's unit: ideally, they
needed three times as many to properly sustain their campaign.
Hence Affranchi's urgency to launch a swift pursuit. If MHA was
given too much breathing room to rearm, his forces would be mired in
a slog, or worse, annihilated, before they even realized it. They had no
choice but to send the man-machines back out before adequate
backup arrived.
Rain-slicked mechanics in ponchos zoomed around on electric
bikes, rummaging through tall weeds for crucial parts, trying to get the
machines combat-ready.
Affranchi had positioned Rodriguez's Air Force 2 and the Gaia Gear
in a separate, even smaller airfield closer to the city. The remnants of
a hotel stood in a nearby forest, where his comms team had set up
shop.
Because the mountains stretching to the east and south blocked
transmissions, they could only pick up MHA's movements in the west.
In that sense, it was a poor choice for a rally point, no direct line on
the enemy's eastern operations. But from another angle, it wasn't a
bad place to lie low if MHA's main forces were converging to the east.
Earlier that morning, Affranchi's group had destroyed one Bushing
Nugg and two of its man-machines.
The rain dripping off tree branches was falling as steadily as the
rainfall overhead.
Leaping off his bike, Affranchi dashed into the abandoned hotel
that now housed the communications team, peeling off his soaked
raincoat along the way. The lobby was chillingly cold, even though it
was supposedly spring. A few small heaters were grouped around the
staff's feet, and stepping in from the cold made that sparse warmth
feel almost luxurious.
"Take a look," Miranda said, handing Affranchi a slip of paper.
"Hm?! It lines up with Mother Metatron's intel and what we got
from Hamar. No doubt about it. Where?"
"The southeastern Adriatic. We've got about a twenty-percent
margin of error. If our intel net was more finely meshed, we could
probably push it to ninety, but..."
Cessias Thegis, middle-aged, with typically bright eyes now dulled
by worry, gestured to a display.
"Three man-machines are heading for Munich?"
"Almost certainly. Here's the predicted path."
The image wasn't a radar screen but a computer-generated map. It
showed the faint signature moving across the Adriatic Sea and over
the Alps.
"Incredible we got intel from beyond the Alps," Affranchi remarked.
The suspected enemy signal glowed over the Adriatic, plotted on a
course over the mountains.
"One of Fares' observers saw them, so I'd trust it. Three man-
machines."
"And behind them is the Hong Kong MHA fleet?"
"Likely, yes. We need the eastern Mediterranean data to confirm,
but we have to link up with Mother Metatron first."
Miranda brought him his pilot suit.
"When's that happen?"
"This afternoon. We'll pick up Mother's laser comm."
"All right. Then we'll take out that enemy signature. Messer can
sortie, right?"
Affranchi accepted the pilot suit. A chill rippled through him as he
stepped into a small side room off the lobby, unheated, but at least
private enough to change in.
"Miranda, grab me some vitamins and cold meds," he shouted
through the door, zipping the last fastener. The pilot suit would fend
off the cold better than anything else, but it was far too valuable for
everyday ground use.
After swallowing the medicine, he took the disk containing the
detected enemy coordinates and hopped back onto his bike. Miranda
climbed on behind him.
"You sure you're okay?" she asked, feeling his rain-dampened
forehead, but Affranchi simply revved the electric bike, heading
toward the Gaia Gear.
"Doesn't feel like you have a fever..."
Her arms looped around his waist, and he felt the soft weight of
her body through his suit, a distinct, feminine presence pressed
against his back.
It was more stifling than intimate, maybe the rain was putting him
on edge, maybe he really was coming down with something. He
wished he could enjoy the physical closeness, but couldn't summon
the feeling.
They pulled to a stop beneath the Gaia Gear's broad wing, still in
its flight mode, and he glanced over at her.
"You're welcome to blame me," he said quietly.
"Blame you for what?" she asked, though clearly she knew. She
forced a faint smile, swallowing back the words she might have
spoken.
"Krishna. Joe's still not himself."
Miranda let out a small sigh, lips twisting in a pained smile.
"To be honest, I regret what happened with her too."
"Thanks... for being kind," Affranchi said in relief, brushing his finger
softly over the back of her hand before dismounting the bike.
"I'm not just saying it for you," Miranda replied.
"Oh?"
After taking a quick status file from one of the mechanics, Affranchi
turned back to Miranda.
"I suppose not telling her that you already had a wife might've been
mean of me, but it's not that simple. She's... well, the type to get
carried away by her own passions."
Climbing into the cockpit, Affranchi said, "How cold. I wanted to be
the kind of man even she could rely on. But I failed, and that stings."
"It means something to Metatron that you feel that way," Miranda
murmured, lifting her gaze. The rain-soaked air had softened her
bright red lipstick into a subtle hue, something that seemed to happen
by her design.
"Please manage the rear line with Madras and the others," Affranchi
said.
"Come back soon," Miranda replied.
"Mm," he nodded.
She swung onto the bike and took off, leaving the Gaia Gear
behind.
3

Krishna felt that if she didn't talk to Ul, she might bolt from the
Bushing Nugg entirely. The thought terrified her, so she stepped onto
the rain-lashed deck.
She was already regretting the easy compromise she'd made.
"Life on the space colonies was tough, sure, but maybe I was just
as pitiful, clinging to things like fortune-telling..."
On the swaying deck, the Bromb Texter and one Gussa stood
anchored at the waist. Cranes jutted here and there with mechanics
on them, hurriedly performing repairs in the downpour.
"Where's Lieutenant Urian?" she asked.
"In the cockpit," someone replied, holding down a flapping rain
cover on either side.
Krishna manipulated the unsteady crane, rising up toward the
Bromb Texter's cockpit.
"You're heading to Munich soon?" she asked.
"Yeah. We have to hurry and link up with Hong Kong MHA, or
Affranchi's troops will be on us. BN008 and BN006 got shot down by
him, apparently," Ul said, tending to his console while communicating
with the bridge.
"Really?" Krishna replied.
He didn't look up from his work.
"So I guess I won't be seeing you in Munich, then?"
"If the Captain's there, I'll be busy with the counterattack. No
telling where they'll station me," he said.
"...I suppose not."
Ul still didn't pause his console checks.
"Take care," Krishna said at last, rain soaking her back through as
she blocked the cockpit hatch.
"What's this all about?" Ul finally rested his hand, raising his face to
look at her.
"I'm telling you to stay safe... since we won't meet again, right?"
"Hmph... not for a while, anyway."
His gaze dipped back toward the open console.
"I'm not a spy, you know," Krishna snapped. She saw that subtle
shift in him, read it as indifference, and lashed out.
"You're gonna catch a cold out there. Just go inside," Ul grumbled.
"I'm fine. Goodbye."
The words left her lips with startling ease. Even she was surprised
how simply she could say "goodbye." She panicked, hoping Ul hadn't
noticed her shock, and quickly worked the crane lever.
With a lurch, the crane descended.
"Krishna! You leaving?" Ul leaned out the hatch, a beat too late.
"..."
"You going back to Affranchi?"
"I have no ideals, no real skills, and after this, I can't bring myself to
fight a person I've known so...intimately," she shouted back.
She jumped off the crane onto the deck. Looking up at Ul, his
figure half-visible at the Bromb Texter's chest hatch, she realized she'd
never truly heard how he felt about her. Last night's "I just wanted to
see your face" had been a lie. She could feel it now.
That realization was colder than the rain pounding her shoulders.
As for Ul, he simply had no idea how to respond to a woman in this
situation. To Krishna, his confusion looked like rejection.
Yes, part of him still craved her body, part of him sensed there was
more to say. But her fierce gaze on him only made him click his
tongue.
"Tch..."
It wasn't malice, just the typical reaction of a frustrated young man
who didn't know how else to respond. There was also another layer to
that tongue-click: the seething desire to defeat Affranchi Char, who
might well have been the one to burn Nouveau Paris. Ul felt that urge
clawing at him, so strongly that it left him cursing himself for not
having time to satisfy young, healthy sexual desire.

The Gaia Gear eased around toward the airfield where the man-
machines awaited. In response, the Zorin Soul and five Dochadies
rose into the air. Messer's temperament seemed well suited to the
old-style, slightly slower Zorin Soul.
During the missile bombardment, he had commanded a combat
squad west of Nouveau Paris, effectively guiding the second wave
that dropped in. It hadn't been easy. At one point, they clashed with
two MHA Gussas, and Messer, accustomed to gravity warfare, had
shielded the still-green allied pilots, then singlehandedly downed one
enemy machine.
It was no small feat. Yet Messer had been deeply shaken by Saes's
death and Rey's defeat. Both had once tried to escape MHA with him.
There was no punching Affranchi to fix that pain, Messer understood
now that the problem ran deeper.
"...Impressive. He's more attuned to that Zorin Soul than I am to the
Gaia Gear," Affranchi thought, watching Messer's flight. "He even
gives it that nostalgic robot flair."
In a strange way, it lifted Affranchi's heavy mood.
"I'm letting circumstances beat me," he told himself. It was a
warning to stay sharp.
When thoughts of Krishna weighed on him every time he saw
Miranda, it was clear he was losing his edge. The lingering chill in his
body wouldn't fade.
Behind him, the five Dochadi bore scorch marks from their
balloon-assisted atmospheric entry, and their jerky maneuvering
revealed pilots who weren't used to fighting under gravity yet.
Affranchi ordered these man-machines to fly ahead in formation
while he took up the rear in the Gaia Gear. Messer's Zorin Soul then
made a graceful turn and tapped the Gaia Gear's nose with a hand.
"Affranchi?" Messer's voice came through on the contact line.
"Huh?" Affranchi responded.
"I'm guessing there's a bigger batch of man-machines crossing the
Adriatic than we think."
"Could be," Affranchi said. The instant Messer spoke, Affranchi
knew the hunch was probably correct.
"I doubt this team alone will be enough."
"Then why didn't you mention it before takeoff?" Affranchi pressed.
"I was so worried about the rest of our forces and Mother Metatron
that I just accepted that report."
"Heh... Well, it would've looked bad for Commander Affranchi to
change deployment less than ten minutes after giving the order. So I
kept my mouth shut."
Affranchi recalled Messer's words from the night before, picking up
on that same tone.
"You're not being malicious. I appreciate the thoughtfulness, and I
mean that," Affranchi said.
"Yeah... I'm willing to believe you," Messer replied, peeling away
from the Gaia Gear with a slight flourish.
Once the formation crossed the Alps, mountains and patchy clouds
spread below, and the Gaia Gear settled into a trailing position.
Beyond the horizon lay the Adriatic Sea, presumably. Minovsky
particles thickened to combat levels.
"...?!"
Rather than the enemy simply being close by, it felt like they'd just
begun scattering Minovsky particles, meaning they'd detected
Affranchi's squad. The next beat of time would close swiftly, right
before the shooting started.
Without shifting out of flying form, Affranchi propelled the Gaia
Gear ahead of Messer's formation.
He sensed them. The enemy was below. He pushed his suit into
full combat acceleration.
With a roar, that surge in speed generated a shockwave that
rattled his allies, forcing Messer's man-machines to scatter.
With a sharp flash, a flurry of beams tore through the air where
they'd been. Still in flight form, the Gaia Gear plunged straight down.
"Right on, Aff. Unless you risk your life like that, I can't bring myself
to trust you," Messer muttered. He split his contingent into two
squads, pivoting his camera in maximum zoom toward the Gaia Gear's
rapid descent and throwing that feed up on the multi-display.
"Tch!"
Near one thousand meters above ground, six unknown man-
machines appeared. Neither the Zorin Soul's nor Metatron's
computers had any record of these silhouettes.
"Hong Kong MHA scum! They brought out a new model!" Messer
growled, feeling a pang of regret for pushing Affranchi so hard. But
not enough to think Affranchi would fail, he trusted the Gaia Gear's
capabilities well enough.
Chapter.12
Gids Geese

The Gaia Gear, still in flight mode, dove toward the ground at a
perfect right angle and unleashed a barrage of barrel missiles. Dozens
of superheated projectiles tore through the air like sparks, raining
down on the six Hong Kong MHA mobile suits in formation. Yet the
enemy pilots, already watching Affranchi's squadron visually, had
begun evasive maneuvers and managed to dodge the brunt of the
attack.
Skimming past their formation, Affranchi guided his craft mere
meters above the terrain, then pulled up sharply. He was counting on
Messer and the rest of his own formation to strike at the enemy's
flank while he himself drew all incoming fire. He sensed Messer's
hopes riding on him and resolved to meet them head-on.
However, instead of counterattacking Affranchi, that unfamiliar
cluster of enemy units ascended smoothly, leaving him behind. He
thought about launching his funnels but realized the enemy had
closed in too much; the timing was wrong.
Turning the Gaia Gear around, using one of the mountain peaks for
cover, he suddenly sensed a few of his comrades' presences,
awareness he could feel through the psycommu, abruptly wink out.
Their shared connection went dead, replaced by a sudden surge of
hostile, ferocious will from the enemy.
"They've been shot down?!"
All at once, three orange-red fireballs blossomed in the skies
ahead, flaring white-hot against the deep blue background with a
ferocious howl. The vanishings he'd felt were the deaths of some of
his fellow pilots, their consciousnesses extinguished in an instant.
"What the—!!"
He realized the enemy formation had brushed off his opening salvo
and delivered a direct hit on his trailing units. In that moment, they
displayed speed and power beyond even Ul's Bromb Texter, an entire
squad of them acting as one deadly force.
"Ugh—!"
The Gaia Gear accelerated at the very limit of its shock absorbers,
punishing Affranchi's body in the process. It felt as though his organs
were being wrenched from his throat and hurled back into his waist.
His skull pounded as if his brain and eyeballs were being shoved
against the inside of his cheeks. The sensation set his nerves on edge.
"Am I capable of this?!"
Half the machines on his side were gone. He felt a pang of fear.
Leveling the Gaia Gear and pointing its nose at the blazing fireballs
ahead, Affranchi concentrated on one of the foes breaking away from
the conflagration.
"There you are!"
He fired off a single funnel, sending it along the mental track in his
consciousness straight toward the fleeing craft.
A colossal flash lit the air.
Then, spotting another enemy form struggling for altitude, he
twisted the Gaia Gear's frame and loosed a second funnel.
The second strike landed in a single, explosive and decisive instant.

If anyone felt the destruction of the two friendly units Affranchi

had just taken down, actually sensed it during battle, it would have to
be someone with abilities like his own, or a man-machine on par with,
or exceeding, the Gaia Gear's capabilities.
"What?"
The man flinched as the presence of his comrades, which had been
wrapping around him moments earlier, suddenly vanished, leaving a
cold gap behind. Ignoring the wall of two Metatron man-machines
attacking him head-on, he slipped away from their fire.
He'd already destroyed three enemy craft at first contact, or so he
thought, yet they continued to stand their ground without retreat. In
fact, they were striking back.
"Impossible!"
He wanted to believe it was nonsense, but he brushed aside that
knee-jerk reaction. He was a pilot who knew better.
Beams and missile trails flared on either side of his cockpit, but
those random shots posed little threat. What unsettled him more was
that the older-model man-machines up ahead weren't faltering
despite his squadron's withering assault.
"Tch!"
He fired a single round from his beam launcher, inflicted some
damage, then pulled away. Twisting clear of a rising pillar of smoke, he
recalibrated toward the source of that fierce, hyper-attuned
consciousness.
"They're here?!"
In that split second, he felt sure he'd be destroyed, yet something
gave the enemy pause, granting him an instant's reprieve. That
enemy, Affranchi, must have flinched at the pilot's lightning reflexes.
His name was Jiang Wen Fu, or simply Jiang Fu. He commanded
the first wave of these new-model Gids Geese man-machines sent by
Hong Kong MHA. Captain Dargol had neglected to warn him about
any powerful Metatron unit, a severe disadvantage, yet Jiang grasped
that oversight. A wise pilot understands the folly of engaging an
unknown enemy blindly.
"...?!"
Jiang tried trailing the white craft, letting loose a flurry of shots. He
even fired funnels of his own.
"What the—?!"
Two funnels exploded around the white machine. It must have
predicted his funnel attack and deployed a defense. Jiang could see
the shimmering effect of a Minovsky particle barrier forming around
it, and even the peculiar outline of the craft's foot thrusters, all in
stark detail. Rather than move along the likely vector, the machine
fired reverse thrusters and dropped straight down, positioning itself in
front of the two remaining allied units.
"Ugh...!"
Jiang abandoned the chase but hoped his recorder had captured at
least some footage of that machine.
What if it goes to a close-quarters man-machine battle?
He worried about the dire result for his side. It was three-on-four,
so on paper they might stand a chance, but Jiang didn't like the
uneasy flutter in his gut. So he decided on a tactical withdrawal,
broadcasting an all-range laser signal to tell his surviving wingmen to
pull back. Engaging any further could easily end in their complete
defeat.
Yet falling back was no simple feat. Jiang maximized his own
Minovsky barrier output, intentionally making himself a target for that
descending white unit. Activating the barrier effectively halted his
chance to attack, but he had no choice.
There was a muted thud of an explosion before a blinding white
flash flooded his cockpit. Violent shudders whipped him forward,
back, left, and right, then a hushed silence.
When the main display came back to life, he saw an enlarged view
of the mountainside, slipping sideways as the craft decelerated.
"He's pulling the same trick I did!"
He realized his Gids Geese was scrubbing across a ridgeline, letting
its belly scrape the rock before sliding smoothly over it.
An impact detonated against the ridge, the smoke bloom lighting
Jiang's back as he escaped the battle zone. Naturally, he didn't forget
to lob a cluster of barrel missiles behind him as he fled.
"Guh—!"
Jiang felt one of his wingmen's consciousnesses flicker and fade.
Another ally had died.
"An enemy of that caliber exists!? Dargol is far too careless!"
He spat the words out between ragged breaths.

Affranchi realized that the very reason those enemies managed to

withdraw was because they were dangerous. Missing the chance to
finish them off made him shudder at what might come next.
"That was one terrifying retreat..."
All three survivors had scattered sand barrel explosives and used
the drifting cloud cover to vanish. Affranchi's impressions, whether
that pilot was male or female, were muddled by the rawness of the
psyche he'd sensed through the Gaia Gear's systems. Delicate and
ferocious all at once, leaving him uncertain who exactly he'd just
faced. It was the first time he'd ever found himself wondering about
an enemy's gender.
"Messer!"
Still in the transformation process from flight mode to standard
man-machine, the Gaia Gear turned to greet the Zorin Soul as it
approached, missing an arm. One of the Dochadi had also survived, at
least.
"Emile Luther?"
"Yes, sir. Turns out we weren't worth targeting. Those new
machines are absolutely monstrous!"
Emile's voice sounded horse and strained.
"We saw them too, but at least they fled..." Messer's machine took
up position beside the Gaia Gear. "If that's MHA's reinforcements, we
stand no chance. What do we do?"
"We'll do what we planned: sink the MHA Gayjisu. If we don't, we'll
just be forced to watch them build their Earth Empire right here. The
two of you, recover our comrades' remains if you can."
"That's impossible. They took a direct hit," Messer said, as though
forgetting that without Affranchi's intervention, he too would likely
have been shot down.
Ignoring that, Affranchi guided the Gaia Gear toward the wreckage
of one of the enemy suits lying across the slope. They needed
salvageable parts to get a read on its capabilities.
"That one?"
Spotting a crash site that was largely intact, Affranchi landed Gaia
Gear and stepped out of the cockpit. Judging by the bulky torso, he
saw it was roughly the same scale as the Gaia Gear.
"Gids Geese, is it?"
From a manufacturer's plate on the leg assembly, he deciphered
what might be the machine's name. Funnels had gutted the cockpit,
so it was hopeless to glean further data from inside.
The mountain debris shifted and crunched as the Zorin Soul's feet
touched down, and Messer hopped out.
"No luck. None of the machines are intact enough to retrieve
remains. Emile is still searching for one more."
"A tough break. Considering your craft's older design, it's a miracle
you got away alive." Affranchi was frantically trying to pinpoint what
was so special about the Gids Geese.
"It just suits me, that's all," Messer said with a hint of pride. He'd
calmed down a bit.
Affranchi pried loose a block of the machine's point-computer near
the waist, setting it on the Gaia Gear's outstretched hand.
"Here."
"Huh?" Messer tossed him a water canteen, and Affranchi took a
swig.
"If Hong Kong MHA can build something of this caliber on Earth, it
means the planet's manufacturing capacity is far beyond what people
in the colonies believe."
"Places like Hong Kong and Europe can still churn out hardware.
Probably why MHA returned to Europe," Messer noted.
Affranchi kept himself from saying more, suspecting he'd slip into a
lecture. It was enough to see that Messer had reached his own
understanding.
"That hit the spot," Affranchi said, returning the flask with a gentle
toss.
"Right."
"Let's head back. Everyone's worried, and we ended up
disappointing them."
"Yeah..." Messer took a drink from the same cap Affranchi had just
used, then climbed the rope ladder leading up to Zorin Soul's cockpit.
"You can still fly that thing?" Affranchi asked.
"Flight isn't an issue, but it has no spare parts. If this keeps up, I'll
lose my man-machine. When does Mother Metatron plan to drop
more units?"
"Cessias said we'd be in touch by afternoon," Affranchi replied,
deliberately naming the communications lead from Besançon instead
of Miranda.
"Hope it works out... The Zorin Soul was born on Earth and hauled
off from Hong Kong. Letting it spend its twilight here might be a
fitting end," Messer said wryly.
"Shame, I was just getting used to it..." he muttered, hooking a foot
onto the ladder. Glancing up, he spotted Emile's Gussa circling
overhead having returned from an unsuccessful search.
"Maybe Messer finally gets me," Affranchi thought, though it was
hardly enough to bring him peace of mind. He realized anew that if he
wasn't in the Gaia Gear's cockpit, he oddly blind to others' mood or
presence.
He watched the Zorin Soul, minus an arm, and Emile's craft align
into a makeshift formation above, then glided the Gaia Gear into the
air with a low thrumming of engines.
"Ah... maybe this surge of adrenaline will chase off my cold."
Affranchi exhaled, noticing that the chill he'd felt all morning had
lifted. Without enough fighting spirit to beat a cold, how could he
ever raise morale in those around him?
"If I can keep myself in check like this, maybe I could have been in
a position to better lead..."
Yet even as the thought crossed his mind, he saw that Metatron's
creed and objectives alone weren't enough to keep this operation
going.
"We only rushed the bombing of Nouveau Paris out of the
suffocating grip of organizational constraints. Wiping out MHA
requires raw power, not pretty ideals. These old folks on Mother
Metatron, who staked their lives on the idea of the Char Continuation
Operations, a project built on borrowed convictions, will never open a
path to the future."
Affranchi was certain. And if he didn't hold that firm resolution, an
enemy like the one he'd just faced would inevitably overwhelm him.
"Losing would mean everything was for nothing."
At the same time, he felt keenly how violence ultimately left
nothing behind.

The mock dogfight between MHA's Gussa and Hong Kong MHA's
Gids Geese lasted barely three minutes. Time and again, the new Gids
Geese took a superior position, proving to any observer that its
performance was overwhelmingly high.
"Strictly between us, that pilot is the least experienced of our three
survivors," Jiang shouted to Captain Bijan Dargol, who stood next to
him.
"Understood. Still, we only traveled here because we can beef up
our armaments and match the Gids Geese with similarly advanced
man-machines. Don't assume your forces alone are our only ace,"
Captain Dargol replied. He didn't mind Jiang's bluntness, he knew that
type made the best real fighters. Even so, the captain needed to
remind him of their differing positions.
"Weren't you badly hurt by the bombing of Nouveau Paris?" Jiang
asked.
"That just shows Metatron is desperate. Our presence in Bavaria is
aimed at rounding up those living across Europe, so don't forget it,"
Dargol said plainly. There was a certain European pride in his words
that an Easterner might not grasp.
"Sir! Then our rendezvous was pointless?" Jiang pressed, as tactless
as ever.
"It's going according to schedule, or you wouldn't even be here. I'll
grant that Gids Geese is better than the Gussa, but you still lost three
units."
"We can't blame it on a first encounter, but that white
transformable craft was anything but normal," Jiang said without
reservation and no sign of intimidation.
With a deep resonant hum, the two man-machines that had
performed the mock battle landed softly in a clearing overgrown with
grass. Their movements showed just how much more agility the Gids
Geese had, like a lithe giant compared to its companion.
"Li! Report!"
"Sir!"
Lihua Huang, who emerged from the cockpit of Gids Geese,
bounded over lightly, addressing Dargol but really aiming her words at
Jiang Wen.
"I was worried my skills or the machine's performance had
deteriorated, but after that mock battle, I'm sure that's not the case.
That enemy was just insane."
"Enough, Jiang Wen Fu," Captain Dargol barked. "As soon as
maintenance is done, we may send you to annihilate the Gaia Gear.
Study your tactics."
"Sir, yes sir. But the Gids Geese's issues are serious for us, which in
turn becomes your concern, Captain. I'd like leniency regarding any
perceived faults in my words or manner."
"Jiang Wen Fu!"
"Rest assured, Captain, I won't tarnish your name. If that white
craft really is the Gaia Gear, then for the honor of my squad, I promise
to shoot it down."
"Can you guarantee that?"
"If we fail, I'll slit my stomach," Jiang said.
"Easterners always say that," Dargol scoffed.
"Shall I cut off a finger instead? We're prepared to do that too," Liu
Yan offered. Dargol frowned but said nothing, heading toward a gas-
powered jeep, an archaic replica.
"These Orientals aren't like us whites," Dargol thought, sparing a
brief glance for Jiang, Li, and their final surviving pilot, Liu Yan, before
signaling the driver to set off.
A few hundred meters beyond the grassy landing field stood a
large rubberized shelter styled to look like an old-fashioned building,
an architectural illusion that might fool the casual onlooker into
believing it had stood there for centuries.
"So, did you see it?"
Captain Dargol opened the door to find Ul Urian's Bromb Texter
undergoing maintenance inside.
"Quite the machine. I doubt even the Bromb Texter can match it,"
Ul saluted from atop a maintenance crane.
"Once we install its new main engine, the barrier output improves,
and we can increase payload too."
"Yes, then we'll stand a chance against Gaia Gear."
"Jiang seems eager to handle the Gaia Gear first, but if we let him
do everything, it'll be problematic in the long run." Dargol gave Ul a
hard look.
"I'm not too keen on using Hong Kong MHA if it goes against your
principles, Captain..." Ul began.
"If that's how you feel, go show them up. Given their recent losses,
I've revisited my judgment of your supposed failure," said Dargol.
"Yes, sir!" Ul responded with a crisp salute.
"After the engine swap, get some rest. You arrived here ahead of
the Bushing Nugg. You must be exhausted."
"Thank you, sir!"
Captain Dargol was pleased that Ul had left the woman behind and
hurried on to link up with him.
"Sure, there's a chance Gaia Gear and its pilot have both improved
significantly, but with these new rivals, Ul should be able to put up a
solid fight," Dargol mused.
No matter how powerful Gaia Gear might be, it was still just one
man-machine. In the worst case, focusing both Ul's and Jiang's
strengths could bring it down. The captain was more worried about a
different threat: the Earth Federation government might soon balk at
MHA's unilateral aggression, causing major political blowback.
"In that event, we'll need to take the families of certain Federation
officials, those illegally settled on Earth, hostage and fortify our
position," he muttered. Indeed, he wanted to expedite his plan for
large-scale concerts and garden parties inviting all those well-
connected residents, using his political pull. But for that, he needed to
rebuild old facilities in the ancient cities. That was why Baveria, with
its heritage of industry and birthplace of modern culture, was so
valuable.
"Call it common or elitist, Wagner's homeland is still essential. If we
can make use of Neuschwanstein Castle, built by Bavaria's last king,
Ludwig, our stage will be set perfectly."
So thought Captain Bijan Dargol. His dream to create an
independent Earth nation centered on MHA would mesh beautifully
with his personal tastes, once he brought this scheme to fruition.