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Annona Colony - Grand Dock



Gilbert didn’t know how things could have gone so wrong.

There were plenty of excuses he could probably fall back on. That the colony’s guard force was inadequately trained in interception and area-control tactics. That he wasn’t the actual commander of the colony fleet, only a special advisor with limited authority to dictate plans. That there were systemic issues in the Empire leading to an ineffective and hole-ridden early-warning network around Venus. That a missile or small vessel with such excessive mobility parameters appearing out of the black was something that couldn’t be accounted for even in contingency plans one step removed from reasonability. That he was a specialist in hunting-killing, not defense, even if each relied heavily on understanding the other.

If only he was the kind of man to take things easy like that. His life would be far more relaxed.

. . . he would probably also be married to a noblewoman of his parents’ choosing, safely nestled in a desk-bound posting on Mars.

It was those kinds of thoughts that almost made him shudder in disgust.

And now he was watching one of his handpicked, personally-requested men throw away all sense of propriety and regulation and jump headfirst into a sticky situation. The spectacle of Signifier Galahad briefly scuffling with one of his security officers was one that couldn’t be missed. Nor was the subsequent dash to the edge of the hangar, where a line of Tommies stood watch. Whispers were running through the crowd — most clueless, but the dreaded word was already falling from more vicious lips.

He scowled. Despite this, Galahad was still too useful for him to leave to those vipers.

@vietmyke
"This is hangar control. Officer, you are not cleared for launch. Please stand down."

This wouldn’t do. What Galahad had already done couldn’t be undone, but the consequences could be mitigated. Not if the younger man was forced out of the Tommy into the hands of a crowd more than willing to arrest — or worse — an "upstart" who dared to hijack a Mobile Suit in the presence of royalty. But if he made any contribution at all towards the neutralization of the unknown, Gilbert could possibly try to brush things away . . .

He brought a hand up. "This is König. I’ll authorize it."

". . . understood. Unlocking inner airlock gate." Though reluctant, the officer knew better than to try to argue it at this time.

Gilbert’s earpiece chirped again, and he turned away. "Status update."

"Target has diverted from original path. Now approaching the opposite pole. Schwarzchild and Lorenz teams remain in pursuit. An unidentified mobile weapon has also launched from the Venue."

He would have preferred news of its destruction. But at least it wasn’t on course for this pole of the colony anymore. The Princesses would no longer be in immediate danger, especially once they were properly behind the thick bulkheads of the colony’s walls.

"Alright. Continue and keep me notified."

There was little more he could do now but applaud politely for the procession of princesses as they strode elegantly down the red carpet towards the awaiting floats and escorts. Depending on how things would shake out with the intruder, he might leave the festivities at first opportunity and deal with the threat more directly . . .



Maximilian Eckhardt Lorenz

Annona Colony — Rear, Near Aerospace



The distance to the unknown dropped precipitously with each second. The smirk on Max’s face only grew. A lesser being would’ve lost consciousness by now — the blood in their body being forced into their legs despite the compression support of a normal suit, depriving their brain of much-needed oxygen — but for the superior body of a Martian, this wasn’t even near his limit. A sizeable portion of fuel had been expended on this rapid burn, but it was worth it to maximize the delta-V within a limited amount of time. He might have been bottom of the class in the mathematics of flight and orbital mechanics, but he at least understood that much.

The interception course that the Schwartzschild team was taking had been well-planned — despite the evident disparity in performance parameters, it seemed that they would be able to catch up to it if it continued to approach Annona. Even if he was only supposed to be providing backup — Max shook his head in feigned disappointment as he saw notifications of retreating allies on the monitor. Lost limbs and damaged torsos, leaving to the pilots only the option of heading back for repairs. Fools who can’t shoot down a missile or even lay their own bodies and lives on the line to protect the Empire, was his contemptuous evaluation.

But now there was another strange blip on the monitor. The IFF tagged it as a friendly, but there was no other information available — something that he’d usually only associated with the Frankenstein’s-Monster-esque cobbled-together junks that pirates favored.

With a shrug, he kicked it up the ad-hoc chain of command. "Lady Schwartzschild, looks like we’ve got a mystery man joining the hunt. What’s the plan?" @GreenGoat
???

Annona Colony — Planetside Approach — 4th Defense Line



The brave men and women of the Zern Empire's mobile suit forces stood proudly in their Tommies. Shields raised in front, machine guns braced and rockets armed, they prepared to receive the charge of whatever that high-velocity object was with an embrace of bullets and explosives. As the second-to-last line of mobile defense for the colony cylinder, it would be their honor to prevent this intruder from advancing any further.

While the pilots of the second and third lines hadn't been able to offer any proper resistance — the unidentified device had crossed through their range limits too early and too quickly for them throw anything more than potshots — the fourth line had immediately scrambled to assemble into a proper firing formation after receiving their orders. The result was that the "cone" projecting from the unknown towards the colony — representing the field of probable routes based on limited observations and with a hefty margin for error, and narrowing with each second — had been designated as a "kill zone" that would be saturated with projectiles. Few of them would be tracking the interloper itself; their role was simply to fill the space all around it and hope for numbers and statistics to carry the day. An old anti-missile defense tactic that had been retooled after the advent of mobile suits.

"Target is changing direction! Groups Delta through Eta, adjust position! All other groups, prepare to engage!"

The teams furthest from the object's new trajectory would move back, repositioning themselves where they would be more useful.

"Be advised, support from the escort fleet will be limited. Firing arcs have begun to intersect the colony. Reinforcements are on their way as well."

A few of the pilots swore lightly, but most hadn't expected aid from that direction anyway. Annona's own vessels were closer to begin with, even if many of them had been pulled to the docks and the Venue. But even those ships couldn't mobilize so rapidly, so only the vessels that were already nearby could be counted on.

"Hauer, Zerben, and Glauston are almost in range. Don't get in their way!"

They had to destroy this intruder. If they failed, there would be little more than the colony's own anti-meteoroid countermeasures remaining between them and the Princesses . . .


Maximilian Eckhardt Lorenz

Annona Colony — Docks, Near Aerospace



"Sir Lorenz, there is an unidentifiable object approaching the colony. The fourth defense line has been mobilized and the Schwarzchild group is already en route. You are to follow them and provide assistance as necessary."

The man’s face split into a shark-like grin. "Oi, oi. Don’t tell me some idiot is actually trying something?" Not that he would complain. Playing the role of the guard dog was always such a chore — he preferred being the hound. "Sounds interesting. Just point me where."

"Transferring data now. And please, do hurry."

He whistled as the info window popped up. That was fast — there wasn’t much time left, and he’d have to really push to avoid being too late.

"Bäumler, Vogt, Rossiwall, with me! We’re gonna smoke this fool!"

With a whoop of excitement, he threw open the throttle. Three Tommies, kitted with additional thrusters like their commander, followed in his wake — four bright stars streaking across the heavens.

@GreenGoat
Of course, he made sure to notify the Schwarzchild’s flagship as he passed them, slowly closing the gap on the mobile suits up ahead. While he didn’t like having only second pickings at his prey, it wouldn’t do to be too rude about it. "This is Signifier Lorenz, colony security forces. We’re backing you up." His true meaning should be clear though — give us any excuse, and we’re stepping in ourselves.
???

Annona Colony - Planetside Approach - Outer Perimeter



He scanned the area again, sweeping the Tommy’s sensors across an 180-degree sector of space. But for the yellow-tan face of Venus filling up most of the field there was nothing there, just as it had been for the last four hours.

With a drawn-out sigh of boredom he pressed the button that would finish logging the “all clear” entry in his duty record. Over a hundred similar entries populated the rest of the list, stretching all the way back to the beginning of his shift.

Such was the occupation of the novice pilot. Hours upon hours of boredom, and then you’d go home and let the next poor sod take his shot at fighting the siren song of sleep. Missions in the simulators would be the highlights of your week, and if you were really lucky you’d be able to see some action in a mock battle. Though lately he’d heard that was starting to change — something about the guys down in the Habitats and spacelanes running into more terrorists and pirates lately.

But that didn’t really affect them at Annona. You’d have to be an idiot of the highest caliber to try to attack the well-defended seat of the local Zern government, especially now that two of the Princesses and an entire fleet had come to visit.

He opened a channel to his partner. “Yo, Paste. I’ve got nothing over here. How about you?” It wasn’t the proper phrase to use, but it was just the two of them right now and the higher-ups weren’t going to check over the hours and hours of audio logs without a good reason.

“Same over here, Toast.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few seconds. Six hours was a long time to stand around doing almost nothing, but having a friend there made it much more bearable.

He cast around for a new conversational topic. “Yo. Did you watch the Adders game last weekend?”

“Man, you know I don’t watch that Venusian shit.”

“C’mon, dude! Just see Salas play once and I’ll swear you’ll be hooked! He’s, like, the Ed Gallagan of handling balls and scoring goals.”

“You know that sounded pretty gay, yeah?”

“Fuck off, I know you’ve got a pinup of Wellesley in your locker!”

“It’s an autographed poster, nothing wrong with that.”

“He’s shirtless, it doesn’t get more — what’s that?” His eyes shot back to the monitor. He could’ve sworn he had just seen something moving that wasn’t the clouds of the planet below.

“What’s what?”

A few button-taps had the optical sensors zoom in Venus. His tired eyes haven’t tricked him, right? He slowly panned the camera, looking for that . . . there! A small dot in the distance, silhouetted against the planet — that’s something that shouldn’t be there, right?

“You see that, right? I’ll highlight it for you . . .” he looked away from the screen to press a few more buttons. But when he looked back, he almost jumped and shouted in his seat — the dot’s grown much larger! “Oh shit!” he exclaimed as the IFF flagged it as an unknown, and his finger slammed onto a big red button with an exclamation point on it.

“I see it!” The next of his partner’s words came across an open comms channel. “Halt! I order you to halt and — FUCK!”

Whatever it was, it moved far too quickly for them to even see. There was only a blur of red-and-white and the glare of thruster wash as it zoomed between them. The severed hand and ruined Heckler rifle of Paste’s Tommy spun away into the darkness, while sparks and suppressant foam spilled out of the gash in its right flank.

“Paaaaaste!” He screamed, turning and pointing his own rifle at the receding thruster-glow. But the cylinder of the colony was behind the intruder, and even a rookie like himself knew not to shoot a Screwdriver in the general direction of any inhabited station. Even if he didn’t think he’d miss . . . better safe than sorry.

His heart was hammering in his chest, but his partner’s voice coming over the radio was like a bucket of refreshing water dumped over his head. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me! Throw a flare!”

Right. Just in case the patrol vessels didn’t get their signal . . . he flipped a switch and pulled the trigger. The topmost tube in his Tommy’s waist launcher launched its payload, which burst two seconds later into a brilliant star of blue-white light that would have seared his eyeballs if not for the filtering of the mobile suit’s cameras.

There was nothing more he could do about the intruder. But he could at least help his friend . . .




Annona Colony - Grand Dock



Gilbert held his breath as the Venue connected to the colony’s transfer bridge. They couldn’t feel or hear it from here — even as massive as the flagship was, its mass was still dwarfed when put next to a colony — but the announcement had been relayed from the operators and the honor guard in the extension.

The Princesses were almost here.

Everyone in the docks stood at rapt attention. Only unified perfection, the disciplined might of the Zern Empire, could be permitted to greet royalty. There were almost none gathered here who could tolerate the slightest cough or misstep tarnishing the majesty of this day. Gilbert suspected that neither Asallia nor Sheena would have actually cared about having a flawless reception — of all the royal siblings that he’d been acquainted with, most of them seemed to care less for the games and pretense of the nobility than those puffins might have hoped — but, again, this was as much about satisfying the pride of the Annonan nobles as it was about the Princesses.

But these next few minutes would still be a hell for himself. The transfer bridge was the most dangerous part of this maneuver, being a fixed and poorly-armored structure that could be taken out with a few well-placed projectiles. He’d wanted to transfer the Princesses and their entourage into a smaller vessel or shuttle, but that had offended some of the other nobles’ delicate sensibilities . . .

His earpiece chirped, and he found that his fears were about to be realized.

“Commander, there’s an alert from sector ee-oh-eight-twenty-five. Outer perimeter has been breached by a rapidly-moving object.” Victoria’s voice paused for a moment, and Gilbert bit down a violent swear that would have greatly offended the Marquess in front of him. “Schwartzschild group is already moving to intercept.”

Right. Lady Freya had arrived with the Venue’s escort. He knew that she was as reliable as they came, and her Axes were a force to be feared, but with the Princesses’ lives at stake there was no such thing as being too safe. “Have the fourth line prepare to engage as needed. Focus on suppressive fire.” He did a quick calculation in his head, figuring out which other assets he could move in time. “Tell Lorenz to take his squad in as well. Offer to back up whomever Schwartschild has sent out.”

He didn’t care if any of those around him were giving him the stink-eye. If they couldn’t figure out what was going on from the words he’d said, they weren’t worth considering anyway.

Annona Colony - Grand Dock



The minutes rolled on.

It might almost have been painful, how slowly the fleet was proceeding. Gilbert, however, had no complaints. Safety was paramount — he'd looked over the regulations and plans himself, and had found no fault with them beyond the degree of ostentation that had been baked-in. Yet it was these little displays and rituals that helped maintain the aura of mystique and awe around the nobility and royalty, and he accepted that as a necessity despite the compromises elsewhere. Image was just as important as martial might — if not more so.

Which, again, was why he was here instead of out there.

A low murmur swept through parts of the assembled crowd as the side doors opened and the last stragglers to the welcoming brigade entered. Without turning his head, his eyes flicked to the side to watch a parade of mostly-familiar faces stream onto the dock. He saw mainly captains and commanders from the incoming escort fleet — those sufficiently highly-placed or well-connected to avoid major responsibilities in the defensive screen, so that they could be a part of the first set of ceremonies. Many he recognized, if not from past operations than from their personnel files, and as for those he did not he trusted the guards posted at the doors and throughout the nearby halls to have done their duty.

One man among the bunch met his eyes across the dock. Even if he had not been able to resolve every detail of his face, the light-mocha complexion and large scar comprised a highly distinctive appearance among those present. It was not unexpected that Signifier Galahad would have been looking for him, given that a common purpose had brought them both to this toxified planet. Gilbert inclined his chin a fractional degree — the most miniscule of nods, easily dismissable as a random movement to those not on the lookout. It could be taken as acknowledgement, or perhaps even an invitation.

Seeing the man (and a young lady who might have been his adjutant) approaching, Gilbert slowly melted towards the back of the formation. It wouldn’t do to force the Signifier to wade through a packed block of nobles and commanders, some of which might very well take offense at being made to rub shoulders with lower-ranked commoner soldiers. The reputation of the “Lion of Gibraltar” could only go so far, and even the little disturbance he himself made as he moved garnered a few quick frowns and tightened smiles. Where he would receive the two would be among the junior officers (on assignment in Annona, and so accorded higher honors today than their rank would otherwise warrant) towards the rear of the block, close to where he thought Galahad would have been assigned to stand.

The younger officer’s salute was returned in a more formal manner than usual, owing to the severity of the mood hanging over the docks. Galahad’s words were very welcome as well. Though Gilbert hadn’t been notified of any obstacles to his request, it still pleased him to hear a sort-of confirmation in person. “Welcome to Annona, Signifier,” he replied. “I hope you found the journey to be pleasantly boring.” His tone was edging on droll, nor did he expect a real answer. Boring was good for the princesses, but many soldiers would have been itching for a skirmish.

He then turned his eyes on the young lady. As he’d thought, hers was a face that he’d never seen in person before. On a personnel dossier, certainly. The memories were on the cusp of recall; he’d have to review the 5th Carrier’s files in depth once the festivities were concluded. For now, just her name and the pips on her uniform were enough. “Charmed, Avocatus,” he stated, more an acknowledgement of her presence than anything else.

“If there’s nothing else that requires immediate attention . . . ?” But that and a few gestures concluded these courtesies, and his assigned position in the formation was soon filled once again with a pair of well-shined boots. Confirming with Victoria and the other lieutenants that the spaceways were still clear of any threats, he settled back into the wait.
Gilbert König

Annona Colony



The primary receiving dock of Annona Colony had been completely redecorated in honor of the Venue's arrival. Normally a hub of activity that saw cruisers and supply ships coming and going multiple times every hour, for the past several days all this traffic had been rerouted to allow the decorators to lay down their fluffiest red carpets and hang their most bombastic flags and drapes, and for the band to conduct their dress rehearsals. Nothing but the best for the Royal family, after all — anything less than adoring perfection would be regarded as a grave insult. And this was only the first stop; the true reception would be within the colony proper, with all the pomp and ceremony of a full parade and speeches from multiple dignitaries.

For Gilbert, this whole affair was quickly becoming the source of all his headaches. His entire reason for being posted to Venus was that those blasted Mekon insurgents were making a stink that could no longer be handled by the local forces, with one particularly-irksome thorn in the Empire's foot also being sighted in the vicinity. Hosting this Exposition here rather than in the Martian sphere was a move that he saw as unnecessarily risky and compromising a military objective for the sake of a political objective — foolish and potentially fatal, if he could choose stronger words. But Princess Asallia had pushed, and it was the prerogative of royals to get their way, and so he'd taken it upon himself to personally oversee the security around Annona in the weeks leading up to the Venue’s arrival.

The knowledge of his involvement had disseminated through the echelons of the nobility — not that he’d been trying to keep it hidden — and so of course it was expected of him to be personally present rather than outside in his Tommy, as he would have preferred. Thus, he now stood on a raised platform facing the innermost airlock gate, slightly uncomfortable in his neatly-pressed gules-en-argent dress uniform and shoulder-to-shoulder with a number of other high-ranking officers and nobles who had paid heavily for the privilege of being among the first to see the Princesses, and have (in theory) the greatest chance of making an impression. Governor Engan was present as well, standing at the very front of their little formation. As the recently-appointed head of state for the Venusian sphere, it would be the older man’s honor to be the first seen by the descending royals, and the first to welcome them aboard.

"Vanguard is commencing final approach." His earpiece burst to life with the sound of a woman’s voice. In the fold of proper infrastructure, the signal quality was much higher than he’d been accustomed to in wilder space. "Venue and close escorts are prepared to dock.”

"Thank you, Victoria." His whispered voice was lost in the greater murmuring of the crowd, the buzzing excitement of a nation enamored with their royals. "They’ll be most vulnerable at this time. Maintain vigilance."

"Always, commander."

There was no such thing as being too paranoid where the safety of the Royal family was concerned, not after the near-successful assassination of the Emperor. Gilbert had pulled a few vessels and MS teams from Gaspra to supplement Annona’s garrison, and his own 8th Rapid Response Group was watching over the Venue as well. The Kokytos and two of his Seytons had participated in the welcoming maneuvers earlier, and were now embedded among the augmented escort fleet; the others were part of the defensive "net" that had been scattered around potential approaches to the Venue and Annona. This was all in addition to the Venue’s own formidable guns and escort, Mars sending some of their best to keep the pride of the Imperial Navy intact. The new Caliban-class would be making its debut here, if he remembered correctly, commanded by a veteran whom he’d had the pleasure of working with in the past, and whose HR dossier was buried somewhere in his office. He hoped the new assault carrier performed as well as Sharp had claimed — otherwise, the one currently being torn open and refitted in a private berth elsewhere in the colony would be wasted.

Annaliese would also be hovering around Princess Sheena. He wasn’t sure whether that made him feel more or less worried, but he was certain that there would be numerous unhappy letters from his father waiting in his mailbox.

As for the dock . . . it was an enclosed environment where only members of the military, nobles, and carefully-vetted technicians could be, and the walls and surrounding shafts had been thoroughly combed for structural defects and planted devices, but beyond those bulkheads the two Princesses would be exposed to the entire population of the colony — Martians one and all, but he knew well that was no guarantee of loyalty. Agents had been seeded throughout the parade grounds and snipers were on the rooftops, keeping a careful lookout on vantage points along the route. The parade floats were armored, but that wouldn’t help as much if the Princesses stood out in the open, and of course they would for the publicity and to reward the loving adoration of the masses.

He took another look around the dock — exchanged minute nods with a few of his security officers — and brushed the pistol at his hip. All he could do now was wait and look too preoccupied for anyone to dare strike up a conversation.















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