G-Anarchy - Opening Post - Collab between @Letter Bee and @JokerJusticar

When the experimental super AI technology of Sigvald Industry was stolen by the company’s many enemies, it set in motion one of the greatest disasters in human history. The Great Corporate War had been raging across the Jovian Sphere for many years, and each faction continuously sought advantage over one another.

Knowing full well the potency of their incomplete AI that their enemies would surely employ, Sigval Industry quickly implemented their dangerous technology. Replacing their human coordinator commanders with the Super AI, they quickly gained a great advantage over their foes, but their enemies soon implemented the stolen technology as well, shifting things back into balance.

Things began to go wrong as malfunctions after malfunctions flared up left and right, but the warring Jovian Corporate could not afford to stop using the incomplete AI. All things culminated in the Jovian Rapture as the many Mobile Doll armies turned upon their own creators, causing great devastation across the Jovian sphere.

The many Jovian colonies quickly reactivated their reserved second-line army of human-piloted Mobile Suits to counter the horde of rogue mobile dolls. Meanwhile, the rogue super AI sent their malicious codes across the human sphere, triggering many automation systems to turn on humanity.

Rising against the threat of AI, the United Nations of Earth, the Ares Republic of Mars, and the Venus Conglomerate sent forth a massive combined army to crush the rogue supercomputer. The war that followed devastated most of the Jovian colonies, while Mars bore the heaviest of casualties among the combined forces.

In the end, many Jovian colonies and corporations that employed the super AI were held responsible and forced to pay massive reparations to the coalition force, pushing the prosperity of many Jovians back by several years. The heartless demand had planted a seed of hatred into the heart of many Jovian Leaders, and they vowed to punish those who shackled them with an agonizing burden…

In secret, they began to prepare for the day they would inflict suffering upon those they believed had wronged them…

To fuel their upcoming war of anger, the Jovian Leadership had formed together into the secret Jovian Empire/Jupiter Nation and pushed the people under them to work hard, imposing harsh labor on all to acquire more resources to pay the war reparations, while having surplus to create their secret army. Furthermore, the Empire continued to fail to produce coordinators with newtype capabilities; thus, they had to rely on finding ones among their own people, taking them from their families to be trained into soldiers, willing or not. Such a policy had pushed many Jovian citizens to the edge, and some decided that they had had enough…

Solar Century 2XX, on a certain, unimportant-looking asteroid, the Azazel Installation, a secret military facility of the Jupiter Empire, was scheduled to receive a secret delivery of supplies required to keep the place running. For the past few months, the Installation had run into one bad luck after another. Accidents after accidents, followed by a delay in the supply run, had greatly soured the mood of everyone onboard.

The supply ship docked without any incident, but things turned to hell the moment the ship’s many hatches opened up, deploying heavily armed soldiers who opened fire on the Installation crews…

The Jovian Rebellion had begun…

Daniel Iskander Tripp

The cell was beige, with only a bunk bed, a mattress, and a toilet, plus a sink. The door was made of thick metal, meant to remind the prisoner inside of his status. There was a hanger, plastic and rounded to remove all sharp edges, that held a spare prison uniform; a white shirt and pants, plus beige work boots.

But Daniel knew Kazuki was coming; the guard actually had a heart.

That didn’t mean that he wanted to feel the pain and suffering of the battle in the corridors. The flashes of anger, rage, and betrayal. The confusion of not knowing what was going on.

Were the other Newtype Kids in the facility feeling this as well?

The door opened; it was Kazuki, still in the matte black Riot Police Armor that hearkened back to ancient times, yet modernized to be airtight enough to act as a Spacesuit. He had a helmet on, yet Daniel knew it was Kazuki; his Newtype senses had grown more powerful in the quiet torments of the facility.

This was confirmed when the older youth lowered his gun and said, in a modulated but recognizable voice, “Hey, Danny; I’m busting you out of here.”

Prisoners usually had a shock collar around their necks until their loyalty could be ‘secured’; Daniel was no exception. With a press of an invisible remote (Borderline Illegal VR Tech?), the shock collar fell off.

And he and Kazuki began to run.

Kazuki Yamagata

Kazuki could not believe that he was betraying everything he knew for an Earthnoid kid, Newtype they may be. He was selfish, throwing away the needs of his people for his own benefit. So be it; he wanted what Daniel - Danny - had promised him and that was experiences beyond what his ‘Genetic Destiny’ mandated for him.

He sought freedom, and that was why he and Daniel were running through the corridors, hoping to reach the hangar his Mercurius was set in before his treachery was recognized.

Three guards rounded a corner between him and Daniel; these were people he knew as comrades and partners and teammates, people justifiably confused why he was running around with one of the ‘subjects’. They glanced at the lack of a collar around Daniel’s neck, and that was when Kazuki realized one thing: They were comrades, but not true friends, not true family.

He shot them first, his assault rifle on full autofire, leaving no survivors. More sirens rang, and he and Daniel kept going, to where his collaborators in the Jupiter Liberation Front - His discreet contacts - had seized the hangar where his MS, the Mercurius, lay down and was waiting to be activated.

Corpses lay where the heavily-armed rebels had put down resistance. The facility had been caught by surprise, and several other children like Daniel were rescued. But now came the hard part; fighting their way out. To outside Jupiter Nation territory; to Oasis.

He gestured to Daniel to follow him as the Mercurius’ cockpit opened up. They climbed onto an elevator that led to the cockpit seats.

Both of them then sat down; it was going to be a long ride, and Kazuki handed Daniel a spare pilot suit from a compartment.

Right now, as he mentally prepared himself for combat, Kazuki Yamagata, now a rebel, found himself lacking regrets…

Outskirts of OASIS-3

A ragged cargo ship, escorted by a battered and scarred Mercurius Mobile Suit, was detected moving towards Oasis-3’s hangar bay, broadcasting a distress signal.

Will Chancellor Jerome Lanthell let them into the Colony?

@shadowsaint007

Jovian space colony OASIS-3 "Tyrande", in orbit around Europa:

The colony had come a long way since its original creation more than a century ago, originally a water collection and storage facility for the rest of the Jovian colonization effort. Now a bustling shipping and cultural hub for the Europan colonies and Jupiter as a whole, it had weathered the AI Calamity War and came out the other side, wounded but victorious, and has since recovered from the war. Now, it was celebrating another year of its founding, with Chancellor Jerome Lantheil giving the celebration speech.

"My fellow colonists! My fellow Jovians!" he spoke with pride. "Today, we stand here as friends and family as we celebrate yet another year of prosperity! Through thick and thin we have stood together, and through cooperation and hard work, we will persevere! Here’s to a hundred more years!”

The cheering was loud and festive as drink containers were lifted into the air, some spilling, before the celebrations resumed, people dancing, chattering, and drinking as they were. They were enjoying the drinks, the food, and the entertainment - including a special concert starring several rising popstars, including none other than the Chancellor’s sole daughter and Tyrande’s own unofficial princess! It was a moment to savor and to enjoy, a moment of respite among the madness of the 2nd Solar Century.

Most of those present chose to celebrate their home, but some turned their talk to darker subjects. The ever-present risk of pirates, the increasing volatility of the Venusian cloud-cities, the rising tensions on Earth, the tumbling Martian economy, and more close to home, the threat posed by the looming Jovian Empire, the name given to the growing coalition of colonies and corporations forming on their doorsteps. Ostensibly, the Jovian Empire was all about economic cooperation and mutual self-defense, but if so, why was there so much spending on rearming and acquiring unusual resources like Gundamnium? Why was there so much secrecy about its actions and operations, and why was there an increasing effort to silence the free press and dissenting voices?

Some held the growing tyrant in disdain, others praised them as a way for Jupiter’s children to stand united and march boldly forth into the future, but most people just wanted it to leave them be.

For all his outward cheer and affable presentation, Chancellor Jerome felt just as nervous as his people, and unlike them, lacked the luxury to just let go of his worries, no matter how much his friends and allies told him to relax. He was all for Jovian unity; as brothers and fellow colonists, they must all stand together to make a better world. What worried him were the rumors he was getting about the Empire’s activities, and the scraps of information that his intelligence officers managed to uncover. It seemed to be less about unity and cooperation, and more about building an armed fleet. And the more he heard of the supposed doctrine of the new Empire, this new-fangled “genetic determinism”, the less he liked it.

Nonetheless, he would continue to mix with both commoners and elites alike, providing helpful spiels, jokes, and other words of levity whenever needed. However, as he was exchanging pleasantries with a shipbuilding magnate, he noticed out of the corner of his eye an aide with a hurried gait to their step and a grim look on their face. He excused himself, bracing himself for what came next…

---

An hour later, the Chancellor was on an escorted government hovercraft, his countenance and mood very much soured. With him were a couple of aides and Dr. Erika Hendriksen, Secretary of Defense, who had come to pick him up en route to Sayla Palace, the central administrative complex of the colony.

“And how many people are on board?” he asks.

“About a few dozen,” Dr. Hendriksen replies, pulling out the report on her datapad and sending it for Lantheil to see. “They’re mostly young ones, roughly in the 13-17 age group, though there are older people, with some being armed individuals. Nothing that poses a threat to our militia, if their word is to be trusted.”

“They came in with a mobile suit,” points out one of the aides.

“It’s pretty clearly damaged and needs repairs,” she counters. “They could use it, but it would severely limit its operational ability, and we’ve deployed a squad of our own suits. Whatever’s left is in that ship, and we’ve got it covered.”

Jerome studies the pictures of the mobile suit and the ship. Both had clearly seen better days; the ship was an old cargo ship refitted to carry passengers, while the Mercurius had some notable battle damage.

“Let me guess, they requested refuge?” he asks.

“First thing they asked for,” Erika replies with a smirk. “Even quoted the Mallet City Human Rights sections.”

Jerome studies the images and the report sent by the refugees themselves. He could debate the possibility of danger, but it was clear that one mobile suit and a rusty hulk full of refugees posed little threat. The real threat was where they came from. Given their vector of arrival and the markings on the Mercurius, it was clear they had just escaped the so-called Jovian Empire - and that was going to be the biggest source of headaches.

“Bring them in,” He says with a sigh. “Can’t leave them languishing out there forever, I guess.”

“You know Rajesh is going to throw a fit, right?” Erika says with a chuckle. Rajesh Huerta was the Secretary of State, one who was trying to manage cordial relations with the Empire simply because they were the biggest local power.

“I can certainly understand why he’d feel that,” Jerome said with a weak smile. “Still, these people require food and medical attention. We’ll worry about the Empire later.”

Erika nods.

“Let’s get ready to face the music, then,” she says. “Bet the council will have some very colorful words for us, but I think we can get them to agree if you can turn on the usual Lantheil charm.”

“Well, here goes nothing…” Jerome sighs as he straightens his suit and tie as he steps out of the hovercar and onto the landing platform.

---

Three hours later, the squadron of Aries mobile suits watching the refugee ship and the Mercurius approach.

“Refugee ship, this is Captain Henri Ducard of Mobile Suit Squad 2, over,” the squad leader says over the comms. “You’ve been cleared to enter. You will follow us to Dock QA113 for standard quarantine procedures, repeat, Dock QA113 for docking and quarantine procedures. The Mercurius will follow Squad 4 to Hangar CA098 for maintenance, where it will be kept under guard. The pilot will be allowed to rejoin the rest after a basic checkup. Is that understood?"

@Letter Bee

Jupiter Empire

Ganymede
Olympus Headquarters

The news regarding the raid on the Azazel Installation took a good while to reach the hidden Jupiter Empire. Upon learning of such devastating news, the appointed Consul flew into a rage. An emergency strategic meeting was quickly held, and every high-ranking member of the Empire was called upon.

At the meeting, Consul Garland Sigval sat seething at the head of the long strategium table. The man was built like a brick house. Tall, and with a Greek god physique that stretched his expensive black suit. His dark, well-groomed beard framed his strong jawline, matching his lion-like mane and the obsidian gleam of his eyes. The light of the multi-monitor computer before him illuminated his face from below, creating a menacing aura that cowed his colleagues. He exhaled with caged fury. “How…did this madness happen?”

The men at the table shifted uncomfortably, unable to come up with any satisfying answer. Garland to thunder with frustration. “I asked how this happened!? Don’t any of you have any idea?!”

A sound of a hand lightly slapping on the table drew everyone's attention. The source of the noise was a man in a uniform of white and black trim. A fully enclosed helmet with a mirror-like faceplate enveloped his head, concealing his identity. The insignia on his garment indicated a rank of Major. The nameplate on him read Hector Sebal. The man sighed behind his helmet. “Apparently, sir, someone likely got their hand on the intel regarding Azazel and simply raided it.”

Garland slammed his fist down in even more frustration. “The installation was a top-secret of the empire, Major! One cannot simply get their hand on it!”

The Major leaned back on his chair and began pointing at people in the meeting. “Let’s see… You, you, you, you…”

He kept going, identifying each one before stopping at himself. “Last and not least is me. All these people got clearance regarding the location of the Azazel. I say one of us leaked it to people who don’t like us much. If I’m to guess, it was our own people from Outpost 152. We lost contact with that place a few days before Azazel went silent.”

The room erupted into shouting of denial and indignation from the accused. Major Hector rocked back and forth comfortably on his chair and simply let the chaos go on until Consul Garland thundered above everyone. “Silent!”

The shouting stopped, and Garland glanced at everyone. He shifted his attention back to the Major. His hand moved toward the keyboard, calling forth all relevant information onto his many monitors, eyes darting side to side before grunting. “You’re not wrong on your assumption, Major. Everyone you accused holds the potential to be the leaker.”

As the accused erupted once more into denial and pleas of innocence, Garland snapped his fingers, and a squad of armed security guards in black uniforms stepped out from the shadows, surrounding the room. The console gestured for them to take everyone…except Major Hector…

After more pleading and protesting, the accused were taken away to be interrogated. Garland growled more with frustration as he addressed Hector. “You’re very lucky I find you to be the least suspicious of them all, Major, not to mention your highest combat score among all our men. I prefer not to lose you.”

Hector casually saluted back with a total absence of seriousness, and the Consul could only shake his head. “I’m only tolerating your disrespect because of your skill, Hector. Don’t push it. Anyway, we need Azazel back, and I want everyone involved in this mess silenced.”

Hector seemed to look up in contemplation before shaking his head. “I’m not sure that’s possible, sir. It’s been a while since we confirmed the disappearance of the installation. Whoever took it will likely have gotten everything needed to expose us.”

As Garland frowned hard, the Major’s attitude shifted, becoming very, very serious, standing up straight and dusting his uniform. “I suggest you prepare for the incoming mess and get the army on standby. One way or the other, we’re likely going to war.”

—----

The news regarding the raid on the Azazel Installation was firmly concealed. Only the most loyal of the Empire was informed of the disaster, along with the order to hunt down those involved. It didn’t take long for a few hidden moles at OASIS 3 to relay information regarding the refugees at the colony… Chancellor Jerome had no idea how right he was…

It’s been only a few days since the newtype children and the men of the Jupiter Liberation Front arrived at Oasis 3. It was more than enough for the Chancellor’s men to learn of the madness behind the Jupiter Empire, namely, the mass forced labor across multiple other less fortunate colonies, the Newtype child soldiers, and the scale of the seriousness of the Empire’s rearmament effort in their insane attempt to challenge Earth, Mars, and Venus…

Already, a representative of the influential Zeus Energy Inc. had arrived with a thinly veiled attempt at threatening the Chancellor into falling in line with the Jupiter Empire.

-------

TLDR: The Jupiter Empire is on the move, and they have found where the people raiding their installation were…

Jupiter Liberation Front: “The Jupiter Empire is a bunch of evil assholes. We got proof.”

Jupiter Empire: “Give them terrorists to us, or we’ll kick your teeth in!”

@shadowsaint007

OASIS-3 Colony - Aftereffects:

As the Chancellor had guessed, it didn’t take long for refugees’ arrival to generate a response - and what a response it was. The news that a bunch of refugees had come in was not news; the political atmosphere in and around Jupiter was rife with political volatility and raiders. In fact, a couple of Chancellor Lantheil’s political opponents had campaigned on an anti-immigration, isolationist platform to prevent the colony’s precious resources from being overburdened by “freeloading outsiders”.

The news that these were refugees from the Jovian Empire, by contrast, caused much bigger waves. While some were leery of antagonising the Empire, the lurid rumors of horrid mistreatment ran wild, causing shocked responses among many while confirming the suspicions of some others. Though Jerome suspected that if they knew half of what he did, it would cause much more bewildered or hostile responses.

The intelligence apparatus had to fish through an ocean of documents, but what they had uncovered was extremely disturbing. Experimentation on humans, both social undesirables and even purchasing kidnapped victims from pirates, heavy testing on the so-called Newtype factor, and only stars above know what else. Witness testimonies - including one from a boy who had come all the way from Earth! - were backed up by stolen data and discretely recorded files by rebels who raided the facility and a couple of the facility guards who helped the prisoners escape.

And that was just the tip of the iceberg. The information was akin to finding that you had a sleeping dragon on your doorstep, one about to unleash hell on the rest of the star system. The Jovian Empire wasn’t just engaging in unethical experiments; it was building a literal army. Weapons factories operated by forced labor or “tribute” labor, building an army of mobile suits piloted by Newtype child soldiers, marshalling a mighty war machine… even if the purpose was unknown, the mere idea it exists filled him with dread.

The Earth boy was allowed to rejoin the rest of the refugees pretty quickly once medical crews were done with him, with his Jovian companion/bodyguard joining him a bit later once he answered security’s questions. Though Lantheil couldn’t blame his intel officers from wanting a closer eye on the former Empire soldiers, even if they were now defectors.

---

Mr. Rajeesh Huerta, Secretary of State of OASIS-3, gives a long, exhausted sigh after he pored over the documents before him. With him were Dr. Erika Hendriksen, Chancellor Jerome Lantheil, and Chief of Defense Colonel Trent Sturmm. They had been going over the files for the past hour now, torn between mild horror at the contents, dreading what else is in there, and anxious about the storm it could raise when it inevitably gets out.

“You know how to stir up one hell of a hornets’ nest, Jerry,” Huerta groans, looking way too slender for his formal suit. “If I were Empire, I’d try my hardest to keep this from getting out, and I bet they’re plenty pissed about what already leaked.”

“Sorry, Rajeesh,” Lantheil replies with a sad smile. “It fell into our lap, and we just had to know what we got ourselves into.”

“A lot, apparently,” came the quick reply. Huerta straightens his tie, his thin, dark fingers fidgeting over the knot. “So what should I tell the Jovian Empire’s representatives while we figure out what to do with the refugees?”

“We give them the truth,” Erika replies bluntly. “They arrived seeking asylum, cited the appropriate Mallet City Accord sections about refugee and asylum rights, and we provided them with safe harbor, food, and medical treatment.”

“They’ll ask for their refugees back,” Huerta points out. “I certainly wouldn’t want my dirty laundry to be publicly aired like this.”

“Right now,” Sturmm said in his rumbling baritone, a wry grin on his African features, “they don’t have a leg to stand on. There are of course deserters and former guards who turned on their comrades, but that falls under seeking asylum. The onus of proof, that these refugees are actually fugitives from the law, is on the Empire. We’re not going to hand them over without good evidence.”

“The biggest concern is they choose not to play by the rules,” the Chancellor muses cautiously.

“Well, we currently have good standing among our neighbors and allies,” Rajeesh points out. “While the Empire has threatened to take the refugees back by force, we still have some strings to pull and some influence we could use to make them hesitate.”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Jerome replies with a sigh.

Before anyone else could add anything, the comm beeps, startling those present. Jerome taps the button.

“Chancellor Jerome Lantheil’s office,” he says curtly.

“Sir, there’s a Mr. William J. Wentworth to see you, sir? Says he’s got an appointment…”

“Well, the Empire certainly got their fat little snake slithering here in a hurry,” Erika mutters, a hint of venom in her voice.

“I’ll handle this,” the Chancellor assures everyone. “In the meantime, we’ll follow the rules regarding the refugees; shelter and care for them, while we figure out whether to keep them here for asylum or arrange a more secure sanctuary if need be. As for the information, we have to pass it on. Cat’s out of the bag; the Empire is moving towards a war footing and we need to contact our allies and contacts to try and create a counterweight to the Empire. It’ll be a tall order, but we need to draw our network of alliances closer before it’s too late.

“And call it a hunch, but we have to find a way to contact the other powers in the system. Not just Jupiter, but Mars, Earth, and even Venus. Something tells me our problem is going to become their problem very quickly…”

---

The Honorable William “Bill” J. Wentworth, a portly man with a distinguished air, clean shaven appearance and receding hairline, was seated comfortably in the synth-leader armchair, smoking a Fumarillo artificial cigar. It’s surprising how smoking was associated with luxury and wealth, even in an extraplanetary scenario. Even when limited oxygen and lack of space to grow luxury crops like tobacco, the affluent would always find ways to indulge their habits. Bill was certainly wealthy and well-connected, particularly as the chief attorney and mouthpiece for the very rich and influential Zeus Energy Corporation, a Jovian sphere megacorp focusing on extracting heavy hydrogen and He3 as well as building high-grade fusion reactors. Seated opposite him was Chancellor Jerome Lantheil, trying to keep a friendly and professional poker face.

“Forgive me for the sudden visit, Chancellor,” Wentworth says in a jovial tone. “I was in the neighborhood and had to drop in. Business, really. Boring thing, to be honest.”

“No worries, Mr. Wentworth,” Jerome reassures him. “Just glad to see you in good health.”

“Thank you kindly, my good man,” Bill replies warmly, waving his Fumarillo. “Still, I must beg your forgiveness, as I mustn’t beat around the bush…”

“It’s about the refugees, isn’t it?” Jerome replies coolly.

“That’s what they call themselves, yes,” Bill replies cagily. “I’m so sorry you believed the… misinformation they’ve been using as a sob story.”

“What do you mean, Bill?”

“Well, for one thing, they’re a bunch of prisoners, raiders, and deserters. And very good liars to boot. Some of these so-called refugees are just spies and other criminals, who have managed to subvert some of the facility staff into deserting their posts and aiding them. This so-called Jupiter Liberation Front… well, you should know better than to trust them.”

“And everyone on that ship are either criminals or deserters?” Jerome says, his tone less than convinced.

“Oh, no doubt they managed to shanghai some unfortunate civilians and force them into obedience. Might have even confused and gaslit them; Stockholm syndrome, terrible thing, really.”

“Some of them were sporting surgical scars and signs of medical experimentation.”

“Oh, I can certainly believe that,” Bill replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Among the deserters are a couple with medical training. But don’t let it fool you; it’s all an elaborate ruse, and these are dangerous individuals spouting dangerous lies, meant to besmirch the reputation of many of our closest allies and trading partners.”

“So these partners and allies, they’d be willing to give their side of the story?”

“I have it on good authority that they’re sending it while we speak,” Bill replies reassuringly, but then his expression shifts. “Listen to me, Jerry, we’ve known each other for a long time, am I right?”

“You’re correct, Bill.”

“Look, I’m just trying to help you here. This ragtag bunch of outlaws and nobodies aren’t worth your time. Why are you taking them in?”

“It’s something called basic human decency,” comes the reply. “They were traveling through space in a rickety ship, requiring aid, shelter, and food. As a law-abiding nation, we follow the Mallet City Accords when it comes to handling refugees and asylum-seekers. And if we don’t follow the law, who will?

“Furthermore,” he says, cutting off Bill’s objection, “these people have not shown any hostility or possibility of being a threat. In fact, they’ve been surprisingly cooperative, and are not trying to cause trouble.”

“I’m sure,” Wentworth replied acidly. “All the same, I wouldn’t trust them. These ruffians are completely untrustworthy, and they and their associates are guilty of assorted acts of grand larceny, terrorism, and vandalism against respected institutions and even civilian colonies. You should be more concerned about them. As I said, this… so-called ‘Jupiter Liberation Front’ is a den of pirates, vandals, terrorists and Marxists out to tear down everything we believe in. They’re classified as a security threat throughout most of Jovian space, and have outstanding warrants for their arrests.”

“Should any of them be wanted people, we will work with the authorities for them to be extradited,” Jerome replies. “However, everyone on board the ship is in the clear. And no, deserters still qualify for asylum requests - unless of course there were reprehensible actions they had committed under their prior leadership.”

Wentworth, understanding that he is getting nowhere, gets up from his chair with a dark glower.

“Mr. Chancellor,” he says, the joviality and friendliness gone from his voice, “what are you trying to do here? What is this hill that you’re preparing to die on?!”

“I am following the letter of the law, and expressing my nation’s independence,” Jerome replies sharply. “We will not do something through coercion. For a lawyer, you seem to be unfamiliar with the rule of law. Maybe you’ve been hanging with the wrong crowd.”

“Such bravado,” Wentworth comments with a sneer. “You think it’ll be enough? A storm is coming, Chancellor, and you’d be better served knowing to help us, or stay out of the way.”

With that he turns around and leaves in a huff. Lantheil wonders if this could have been handled better, but it was clear; the Empire was going to war, and the results would not be good for anyone.

---

Half an hour later, the Chancellor discusses the meeting with Secretary Huerta and Colonel Sturmm.

“And that was the ‘silk glove’?” Huerta asks in disbelief. “The jackboots are coming up, and I doubt they’ll be bringing any lube.”

“Sadly no,” Jerome sighs. “Looks like we’re going to have to assume the worst and prepare. Rajeesh, I want you to work with our associated cartels* and allied corporations. We need to find out if we could put some pressure back on the Empire. I doubt it’ll work forever, but we need to buy ourselves time.

“Also, get in touch with Erika and see if we can’t find a pretext to accelerate arms purchases and military training. We need an excuse to expand our self defense forces if needs be; I doubt the thugs in the Empire are going to let political niceties hold them back for long.”

“I doubt the rest of the Jovian sphere can hold back the Empire for long,” Sturmm comments.

“True, which is why I think we should open communication channels with Mars and Earth,” the Chancellor replies. “I don’t want to be a narc, and I doubt we’ll get reinforcements that quickly, but we need a way for the information to get out should things get worse. We can’t exactly hail them, and even with light-fast communications, it’ll take hours to arrive, assuming it arrives in one piece.”

“You want to send a courier?” Sturmm asks in mild surprise.

“To improve relations and open communication channels,” Lantheil answers. “We might need outside help if the Jovian Empire decides to step out of the Jupiter sphere and take its aggression elsewhere.”

“Will try to keep that option open,” Huerta muses.

Jerome lays back in his chair, giving a deep sigh.

“One giant mess of a situation, isn’t it?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “I need a break.”

“We all do, boss-man,” Huerta chuckles bitterly. “Doubt we’ll get one anytime soon, though.”

Jerome looks at his watch.

“Oh, crap, forgot about Saran’s charity drive!” he exclaims, getting up and straightening his suit. “I have to go check on her.”

He turns to a nearby aide.

“Where’s she holding her charity drive tonight?” he inquires.

“Actually,” the aid replies meekly, “she had a change of plans. She’s engaging in direct charity action… and she’s helping distribute food to the refugees. You know, the ones this whole mess is over?”

Jerome sighs again.

“Well, she’s always been a strong-minded child,” he muses. “She does have a security escort, at least?”

“Yes, she does, sir,” comes the timid reassurance.

---

In the temporary bunks for the refugees, it was time for lunch. Aid workers were distributing the soup and hot food to the hungry asylum seekers. One of them, a tall, beautiful slender young woman with long flowing pink hair and bright blue eyes, approached Kazuki and Daniel with trays of steaming food. Alongside her were two men who were similarly dressed as aid workers, but not quite as adept at the work, and more taking a look around.

Kazuki would find the young woman’s escorts as odd, but Daniel’s experienced eyes immediately peg them for what they really are; bodyguard detail. It’s clear that whoever this pink-haired young woman is, she’s quite the VIP here.

The woman distributes the food to the people next to Daniel and Kazuki before moving on to them, laying down hot food on the table. The other two keep a bit behind her, ready to act in case of emergency.

“Hello there,” she says sweetly. “My name’s Saran, what’s yours?”

---

TL;DR:
To Empire: "We're following the rules here. Unless there's something you're not telling us about these 'terrorists'?"
To JLF: "We're trying to help, we just need a bit of support because the Empire's going to come in mad."
To: Allies & Acquaintances: "So how soon can we form a viable anti-Empire bloc? If it's even viable."
Also, Saran meets Kazuki and Daniel
@Letter Bee @JokerJusticar

* - cartels in the more traditional dictionary meaning, not drug lords. Think more like OPEC.

((Collab Post between @Shadowsaint007 and @Letter Bee.))

Saran sets down the hot food for the two, taking notice of the two. She had picked this table for… well, she’s not entirely sure, to be honest. Something told her to start there. She had originally been scheduled for a charity drive, but that had been canceled at the last second. As such, she took advantage of the food distribution to meet up with the refugees and asylum seekers. She had been meaning to see them, see how they were doing, but it seems they’re doing better at the moment, given they had a few days to relax and recover their strength.

“Hello, my name’s Saran, how are you doing?” she asks sweetly. “How has everything been here?”

Daniel waved hi and said, “I’m doing well! Kazuki is doing so too!”

He gestured over to the taller Mobile Suit Pilot, who was reading some books lent to him by one of the staff assigned to watch over the refugees. As the latter noticed Saran’s presence, he blinked, then walked over to Saran and said, “You must be Lady Saran. Your music… It’s good. For all my life, I’ve only heard patriotic anthems and elevator music, as well as snatches of songs by my elders and members of other… occupations.”

Then he introduced himself as “Kazuki Yamagata, at your service. I rescued Daniel.”

Saran gives a warm smile at Daniel’s cheerfulness. It’s good to see he’s in high spirits; she’s heard the rumors, and her father hadn’t told her much, she’s imagining the worst.

“It’s good to hear you’re doing alright,” she says sincerely.

Kazuki’s words are a pleasant surprise.

“Why thank you, it means a lot to me,” she says, slightly abashed. She can only guess what Kazuki meant by ‘other occupations’. “It’s good to see you’re doing alright…”

The bodyguards study the two boys impassively, occasionally looking around in case of any threats. There were none at the moment, but it’s their job to be vigilant regarding their charge’s safety.

“So where are you from?” she asks them. “Ganymede, Galileo, Io or Jupiter orbit?”

Daniel raised his hand first, then said, “Only Kazuki’s Jovian - I’m from Earth!”

He then began eating while Kazuki clarified, “Daniel was abducted by slavers, sold to Jupiter, and tested for Newtype potential. There was… pain involved. I’m glad he seems to be all right, though.”

There was an inflection of guilt in the Pilot’s voice, as though he felt it was his fault.

Saran is surprised by Daniel’s origin, and looks over sympathetically at the boy, studying his face, trying to see if he’s genuinely alright.

She looks at Kazuki for a bit.

“What was your job?” she asks. “What did you do before you defected?”

Kazuki said, “I was his prison guard. Also a mobile suit pilot, allegedly an elite one. I decided to help various rebels bust him out because, well, he’s a good kid; he told me about how beautiful things were outside of where I was raised.”

She listens to Kazuki intently, then gives him a warm, friendly smile.

“Then it wasn’t your fault,” she says encouragingly. “You didn’t go out hunting him, you weren’t the one who captured him. And you weren’t the one who put him in there. It’s not your fault; you didn’t know better. And when you did, you gave him his freedom. That’s something to be proud of.”

She turns to Daniel.

“Where’s your family? Are they alright?” she asks in concern.

Daniel responded with, “They evacuated in time. But to be honest, I don’t know where they are; we got separated. But my last name is Iskander-Tripp, if that helps. My Dad is named Deuel, and my Mom is named Maria!”

Saran nods in sympathy.

“Sadly, I don’t know if they’re here,” she replies sadly. “I’ll try and send a message that you’re here. My fa- I mean, I know some contacts who can help, I’m sure of it.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe here. We’ll try and get you home safe, I promise.

“So what will you do now? Where do you want to go?” she asks them.

“Back to Earth,” Daniel said matter-of-factly. “My family’s alive; I know it. But if that’s not possible yet, remember, most people from Earth who travel to Space are scholars; I can earn my keep…”

“Look, that won’t be necessary,” she says, trying to cheer him up. “By Mallet City Civil Rights accords, you’re classified as a refugee and asylum-seeker. It’s up to us to send you back home safely, and we’ll try to arrange that the best we can. Don’t lose hope.”

“What about you, Kazuki?” she asks the older boy. “Where will you go from here?”

Kazuki mused, “I want to come with him. Maybe find a job that does not involve killing people.”

Saran gives him a sympathetic look.

“Was… was there any dreams you had before? Any aspirations or desires before you came here?” she asks. “Anything at all?”

She shakes her head.

“Nevermind, she says, her cheerful tone returning. “The world’s a big place, I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll be good at, hopefully it’ll be something you enjoy.”

She was thinking of what else to say when one of her bodyguards tapped her on the shoulder.

“Sorry, Miss Lantheil, it’s time to leave,” he says. “We have to get you home.”

Saran nods, and turns to give the two boys an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I… I have to go now,” she explains. “But I’ll be back again, hopefully. Take care you two, alright?”

She gets up, and gets going, followed by her security detail.