[SRW/Ace Combat Zero: The Belkan War/Code Geass] Northern Lights

[The Ero-Sennin]

This is a short story written mostly to add flavor to the PbP RPG that I am preparing to run. In a ways, it's also an advertisement. It is a short tale, a quick bit of action and plot hopefully to add feel to the universe and what to expect. It's also a bold-faced challenge to the idea that planes are useless against giant robots and vice-versa. I hope you enjoy it, but if not that's fine, but if you do... I hope it maybe convinces you to have a look at the game I am creating.


= = =


At 500 knots and at an altitude of just under 50 meters, two jet fighters carved their way through the cold, night sky of the northern Britannian Coast underneath the brilliant colors of an aggressive aurora borealis. They were a pair of twin-engined F-15C Eagles, state of the art and kitted out clearly for air and ground targets, in addition to a sensor suite underneath their fuselages. Both planes, painted a light gray, had no markings. No flight numbers, no national emblems, even their lights were taped over to evade any sort of detection.

These planes were not supposed to be here.

With a hiss of static, and a slight crackle, the voice of a young woman filled the helmets of both Eagle pilots. "This is AWACs Wind Fish, radio silence has been lifted, Garm Team you are now inside the operations area and free to commence the mission."

The pilot lead element of the plane, Garm 1, responded gaily to the information. When he spoke his voice was young but worn, like a man who just reached a milestone in his life and knew it. "Thank you, Wind Fish… are our hosts expecting us?"

"Britannian Air Defenses are in low power mode as expected; they don't expect anyone to come in over the pole like we did," Wind Fish answered, "Still, it'd be good for your health if you stayed below seventy-five meters until you reach the target."

The pilot of Garm 2, despite the high speed and low altitude, made a show of yawning loudly into his headset. "We've been on autopilot for hours, I'm just glad to have something to get my blood pumping."

Garm 2 was a young man as well, but a little jaded drawl in his tone, like he was weary of the world and the money was the only thing that made it worth keeping going.

"These are Britannians, so get ready to have your blood going back and forth between freezing and boiling when we get in the thick of it," Garm 1 instructed his wingmate.

"Copy that," Garm 2 replied.

"Approaching initial point, three miles," Wind Fish then spoke. "Garm Team, once past IP break off and line up your approach to take the photos of the training area and the units on the ground. Make sure your photos of the units are as clear as possible, we're not getting a second chance."

"That goes without saying," Garm 1 said, "But it's nice to hear your pretty voice."

The voice of pitch-perfect professionalism, Wind Fish ignored that. "Reaching initial point, break off and get into position."

With similar professionalism, the two F-15Cs broke off as a dark shape grew larger on the horizon, an immense dark spire that rose among the steep, rugged cliffs of the northern coast and the glaciers that spilled over them. Garm 2's Eagle raced inland, dipping even lower and making use of the plane's terrain following suite to stay above the ice and rock. Garm 1 went out over the ice-choked sea, the spray and chunks of ice flung up by the action of the waves pelting the underside of the plane.


Several kilometers away, the target of the two aircraft stood like a monolith in the polar night. This desolate location, formerly a Sakuradite Ore mine long run dry, was now a state of the art facility for the recently established Britannian Special Research Division, Camelot. Overlooking the jagged, snow-covered field from a covered platform on the lee side of the island, a boy in elegant royal attire oversaw the movement of tanks and armored personnel carriers moving through the snow.

The boy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and adorned in vestments that clearly denoted his rank, was Schneizel el Britannia, First Prince of Holy Britannia. Only twelve years old, the prodigious youth was already taking his brilliant intellect towards the betterment of his country and his people–and his recent acquisitions highlighted it.

"They're all quite wonderful aren't they?" Another older boy then said, garnering the young prince's attention. He was lavender haired, with grayish blue eyes, and wore a lab coat that seemed more like a straight-jacket with its somewhat long sleeves that fell past his hands.

The other boy, Lloyd Asplund, looked back out at the neatly parading vehicles moving to and fro in the snow. "Yuktobanian Research and Construction Cooperative Design Objekt 188 Main Battle Tank, and Objekt 688M Infantry Fighting Vehicle. They are representative of the best tracked land fighting vehicles on the planet."

Alongside the tanks, stomping through the deep snow, were slightly hunched, egg-shape bodied combat mecha. They stood over the tanks at just shy of nine meters in height, and were armed with assault rifles and RPGs.

"Objekt 332 Second Generation Arm Slave, Osean designation 'Rk-92 Savage'," Lloyd introduced. "The premiere Arm Slave in numbers on the planet."

He looked back at Schneizel, a smile growing across his lips. "You assembled all of this here, for me?"

Schneizel nodded. "You've been telling me for weeks how confident you are in your designs, so I elected to make this proving ground test reflect that. The best weapons in the world will be going up against your whispers."

Lloyd frowned at that. "Whispers? I don't listen to those, I'm so hard at work that I've drowned them all out!"

Lloyd turned back to the window, and pressed his hands and face against it. "These breakthroughs are all my own hard work. I didn't need help like the others."

As soon as he said that, a stiff monotone sounded from the speakers of the observation room the two stood. Also present in the room were various researchers, generals, and nobles. Almost all of them extremely interested in the course of today's demonstration.

"Test of the Prototype Unit Morgana will be commencing in ten seconds. All non-essential personnel please remain in assigned areas until the conclusion of the test."

Far below the observation deck, as wind and snow whipped by the base of Camelot's spire, a set of doors split down the middle and slowly retracted open, revealing a violet painted humanoid mecha. To those who watched the screen, there were murmurs of discontent as the machine's origins were easily identifiable. Despite the coloration, and the addition of equipment, the extremely human-like frame and fighter pilot-inspired helmet made it readily apparent that "Morgana" was an XM9 Gernsback Arm Slave, an Osean design currently under development in that country.

Unlike the standard XM9, however, the "Morgana" sported several different equipments. On its forehead was a large round camera-like sensor that gave off a glimmering red light at its center. On its hips, extra armor supported a pair of vice-like clamps connected to launchers. Similar launchers existed on the machine's forearms. On the backs of its legs, connected to the calf and ankle of the machine, were a set of rigs that ended in a single large wheel.

Schneizel could hear the uncouth murmuring behind him from his generals. The mere sight of Morgana disgusted them, the pride of the Britannian military allowed for no Black Technology–the origin of the Arm Slave–let alone Arm Slaves themselves. However, none were about to let the First Prince know of their displeasure.

Lloyd ignored it entirely as he watched Morgana step into view. He looked like a boy who'd just completed his first model ship and was watching it set sail in a pond without issue, no one could damper how proud he was at that moment.

"Look at it, Schneizel, it's beautiful!" Lloyd declared. "Sure, it's still an Arm Slave, but everything upon its body that I have built will make it better than any Arm Slave in existence!"

"Yes, it's fetching," Schneizel said.

When Lloyd nodded eagerly, the young prince then announced, "Commence the live fire exercise."

Lloyd's smile fell off his face. "L-live fire?"

At once, the tanks and APCs moving in parade turned and began approaching the Morgana, their stabilized barrels swiveling into position to target the Morgana, while the Savages advanced from slightly further behind with rifles raised.

Lloyd looked at this new development, and then back to Schneizel. "My lord, this can't be a live fire exercise! If Morgana is destroyed-"

"Then that is that," Schneizel said.

Lloyd looked back again. "Not that, your highness, what about the pilot?!"

"What about the pilot?" Schneizel said. "If your machine can't do what you believe it can… then their death is on you. The strong survive, while the weak perish. That is the credo of our Empire, is it not?"

"Y-yes, but…!" Lloyd looked back down at the field, the maddened boy looking a little crazed with fear now.

"So, show me if your design is worthy of Britannia," Schneizel commanded just before the first tank achieved a firing solution and fired.

The round was across the range in an instant, but rather than impact and destroy the Morgana, it whipped over its shoulder and struck the closed shutter doors with a great explosion. Morgana had simply leaned to the side, avoiding the hit.

Schneizel lifted an eyebrow, while Lloyd froze.

The rigs on the backs of Morgana's legs then swung down and struck the snow. Spinning up, the wheels caught into the snow and then the Arm Slave was gone, hurtling towards the tanks as it drew from its back its standard weapons–the 57mm Smoothbore rifle.

Another tank opened fire, and then the APCs as well, and Morgana seemed to dance in the snow, spinning and evading the fire to close in on the lead tank. With a graceful leap, Morgana cleared the tank and landed behind it as a fountain of flame sprayed up from its destroyed turret.

More shells, joined by the tracers of the Savages, converged upon Morgana, which was on the move and out of their way. As it strafed perpendicular to the advancing targets, round after round from the Smoothbore Rifle impacted the lighter APCs, destroying their ammo stores and turning them into exploding pillars of fire.

Doubling around with a quick spin, Morgana charged the slower firing tanks and jumped again. Smoothbore rounds punctured their turrets, striking the stored ammunition and creating catastrophic explosions that lifted the turrets of the vehicles completely. As it fell, Morgana angled itself and from the hips the vice-like anchors fired, rocketing towards one of the Savages.

One of the Anchors missed, but the second was dead on, crashing into and crushing the chest of the Savage like a tin can.

The anchors drew back, reconnecting with their launchers one after another, causing Morgana to spin again before it landed atop another tank. Firing down into it, the Arm Slave leaped again, leaving it to explode.

Morgana's performance had left the room stunned, none more than Lloyd himself as he watched his creation run rampant all over the weapons of war from far afield.

"It's… it's incredible," Lloyd murmured in awe.

Schneizel, without looking back to the nobles, spoke. "There are many of you who believe that humanoid combat vehicles hold little place on the battlefield. You all came here not to see a demonstration of new technology, but the execution of an insane philosophy."

Morgana was swift and methodical for its seeming insanity of movement, one by one it dismantled tank and Arm Slave alike. Its agility and ease of movement was far too much for the slower Savages and even slower tanks to even attempt to protect themselves.

As another tank exploded, Schneizel held out his arms.

"This is the undeniable truth of the future. The art of war has reached a new plateau, and the one who holds that future in his hand, is whoever can climb the highest the fastest and then aim down at those following after."

Only two units remained, a single tank and a single Arm Slave. Morgana was quick to approach them, all but gliding across the snow as it abandoned the smoothbore for a sword hanging on its left shoulder. As it brandished the blade, it fired the anchors, one striking and bending the barrel of the tank attempting to bring it to bear, while the other disarmed the Savage of its assault rifle.

Closing in then, Morgana ignored the tank as the shot it had planned to fire struck and destroyed its bent barrel, and drove the sword it wielded into and through the remaining Savage–right as Garm 2's F-15C passed right overhead in a gentle right hand turn away from the scene, exposing its belly and the reconnaissance pod underneath it completely to the test range.

Schneizel regarded the intrusion with muted surprise. "… Where did that plane come from?"

The officer in command of the base was similarly stunned. "That's not one of ours! Is that Belkan?!"

Lloyd was also curious about it. "Wouldn't we have detected it?"

"Send up the alarm! Shoot down that plane!" The base commander yelled, right before the second Eagle appeared, skimming low over the battlefield from the opposite direction, also exposing its belly to the firing range, particularly Morgana.

Lloyd then realized it. "Reconnaissance planes."

Garm 2's F-15C was coming back around, and loosed a missile straight for Morgana, causing Lloyd's surprise to become dread. "Armed reconnaissance."

Morgana accelerated backwards, and began a slight turn to bring the missile after it. At the last possible second, it veered off, causing the missile to overshoot and hit the ground before exploding. As he came back around, Garm 2 was surprised to see that he had missed.

"It dodged?!" He exclaimed before Garm 1 had his own go.

"Whatever the hell they did to this Gernsback, they didn't spare a cent," Garm 1 said before firing two missiles. "I hope it's insured."

The missiles accelerated ahead of Garm 1, but Morgana was more prepared. This time, it fired both of its anchors, the cabled projectiles meeting the approaching missiles and impacting them to Garm 1's own incredulousness.

"Holy shit!" He announced before tracers warned him to accelerate into a climb.

"Well, now I wanna have a drink with this guy," through the tracers of the anti-aircraft guns, Garm 2 was rolling in and unleashing bursts of the Eagle's 20mm cannon upon Morgana, which narrowly evaded the shots as it went towards one of the wrecked Savages. With a final leap and a tumble, it picked up the destroyed Arm Slave's assault rifle and fired back.

The lead on the burst was awful, and Garm 2 made short work of the attack. "If he had nine more in the clip, he'd be pretty good. I almost don't want to kill him."

"I kind of want to do it as a matter of professional pride," Garm 1 informed his wingmate as he came around with three missiles fired ripple style. "And it's magazine, you don't want to get the gun nuts after you."

Morgana destroyed all three missiles, but its bursts aimed at the Eagles missed, the targets were too fast, and they seemed to know when to avoid the bursts soon as they saw the tracers.

"Then we'll at least pour something out for him," Garm 2 decided, before Wind Fish spoke up.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Garm 1, Garm 2! Enemy aircraft!"

In the midst of lining up for his run, Garm 2 looked around. "Where?"

He then looked up, and against the aurora as a black, rounded yet angular shape was directly above his plane. A twin-engined stealth fighter, not unlike his own but more advanced in every way.

Garm 2 damn near shat himself. "F-22s!"

Abandoning the attack, he broke hard left, the F-22 Raptor having no problem turning inside and staying on him. Rolling over, he went the other way, but the Raptor moved as if the pilot already knew where he was going to go.

As the F-22 locked him up, Garm 1's Eagle loosed a burst of cannon fire forced him to break off.

"Damn stealth assholes," Garm 1 muttered as he quickly formed up on Garm 2's wing. "Keep an eye on him!"

"Yeah, I know!" Garm 2 said before he scanned the sky. "Where are the others? These guys don't fly solo!"

Missiles fired from the Raptor forced both Eagles to unleash chaff and flares and turn in towards each other to maximize their use. It worked, the heat and foil confusing the warheads and causing them to miss.

Though that seemed to be the plan of the Raptor, which glued itself again to Garm 2's tail.

"Garm 2! Check six!" Garm 1 shouted out.

Garm 2 obeyed, and tried to bank, but a quick burst from the F-22's cannon danced along the Eagle's wing and with a great explosion most of said wing came off, sending the Eagle into a rising spiral.

"Garm 2!" Wind Fish cried out in shock.

"Damn bastard!" Garm 1 quickly brought the plane around as the F-22 tucked and weaved through the air to face him. Their position immediately placed them on a head-on course.

Placing the F-22 squarely in his sights, Garm 1 fired off a quick burst–only for each round to spark against the F-22's fuselage as it minutely adjusted its position with the movement of its flight surfaces and vectored engines.

Reacting with his own split-second reflex, Garm 1 barely evaded the burst of fire that the F-22 returned, and both aircraft missed one another.

"Damn, damn, damn…!" Garm 1 shouted as he pulled hard on the stick, G-Forces smashing him into his seat as he tried to bring his plane back to bear. The F-22 was turning back around, and it fell in his sights just long enough for him to get tone and then fire his missiles.

To his stark disbelief, as he leveled out, he was able to see the F-22–without flares or any other countermeasure–simply avoid the missiles like they were straight out of the Rectan War era.

"Wind Fish, forget that Arm Slave… I wanna know where they get these pilots from," Garm 1 murmured.

"Garm 1, bug out of there, a tanker is waiting!" Wind Fish warned.

Garm 1 was not about to bail on avenging his wingmate, however. "Not before I take this freak down!"

The F-22 had come back around, and was lining up for the joust again. Switching from missiles, Garm 1 readied his gun. "This time you're not getting away!"

The two aircraft hurtled towards one another, their combined speeds approaching 1500 kilometers an hour and rapidly increasing. Rather than fire right away, Garm 1 waited. He wasn't going to give him a chance to dodge or deflect this time, even if it meant he went down too.

"I've got you in my sights, bastard…!" The pilot said before the F-22 suddenly broke off early, narrowly avoiding another missile. "The hell?!"

Following the trail of the missile, Garm 1 spotted another unbelievable sight: Garm 2 was flying towards them, smoke trailing from what was certainly a destroyed right wing.

"Hey buddy," Garm 2 asked, "Still alive?"

"You son of a bitch," Garm 1 muttered before he shouted, "How?!"

"I am barely keeping this thing together! Let's get out of here!" Garm 2 said.

"Yeah, sure, let me just take down this Britannian son of a…"

"You're free to go," a voice then came in on the radio, and both pilots looked towards the F-22, which had curiously formed up on their wing.

"What a defiant tenacity," the pilot said to him, "I had foreseen something completely different when I took off your wing."

Garm 1 stared at the F-22. "So you're letting us go?"

"… Consider it a favor, I've achieved my objective, and you have impressed me enough," the pilot said, "My charity is a rare thing, don't waste it."

With that, the F-22 turned back towards Camelot, leaving both pilots confused, but not complaining.

"Wind Fish, are there any other aircraft in the vicinity? Any other stealth planes?"

"My screen appears clear, but keep on your toes and focus on getting out of there. Hélène is waiting for your arrival at the rendezvous point."

"Roger," Galm 1 returned, "Galm 2, you point the way, I'll stay close."

"Thanks, buddy," Galm 2 replied as the two planes left out towards the sea.

"Knight Five, what is the meaning of this?! Those aircraft may have recorded the entire operation!" The base commander howled into the radio.

"They most certainly did, commander," the F-22 pilot returned, "But I did not journey here to protect your demonstration."

Lloyd and Schneizel went from watching the base's commander having a conniption fit to the Morgana, which had pulled up to within view of the observers and opened its cockpit up. Overhead, the F-22 was circling the area.

"Only the most important part of it."

From within the machine, a woman with long wavy hair stood up and waved up to the passing F-22, assuring the pilot that she was well.

= = =​

With arrestor hook down, Garm 2's F-15 landed on the back of an old aircraft carrier steaming hundreds of miles away from Britannian waters. The Eagle barely snagged the fourth wire, and the landing gear almost buckled from the strain–as the normally land based planes weren't meant for such abuse.

Garm 1, a more experienced naval aviator, brought his plane down and stopped it in time, though his plane's gear was similarly damaged. As both planes were brought under and the carrier changed to a more southerly course, a third plane, a radome-sporting E-2D Hawkeye AWACs Plane came down next much more gracefully.

In a mess hall aboard the carrier, Garm 2, a man who went by Larry "Pixy" Foulke was shooting the shit with his wingman and lead, Garm 1 Nicholas "Nick" Fontaine Sherman.

"One wing, you flew a God damned F-15 on one wing," Nick said. A bearded, dark-haired man with piercing green eyes, he wore a disbelieving but happy smile to his wingmate. "I don't think I could've done that."

"I'm still in a bit of shock," Pixy, a rugged yet clean-shaven man with brown hair graying in parts admitted. "And that Raptor pilot, where did that guy come from?"

"It was probably Bismarck Waldstein," Wind Fish, better known as Helena "Wildcard" Sherman said as she walked over. "You know, the Knight of Five?"

Both Nick and Pixy blanched, before the latter palmed his face. "Fuck, he really did let us off the hook."

Nick was a little angrier than relieved. "You mean I could've taken down a Knight of the Round?"

"No you couldn't have," Wildcard snapped at him. The brown-eyed blonde sat down next to Nick and gave him a piercing look. "This could've gotten you both killed in so many ways, or worse–captured."

Nick shrugged his shoulders. "It couldn't be helped. Besides, with proof that Britannia's breaking into the mecha scene, we'll give guys like Osea and Yuktobania a huge leg up in their arms race. We'll have enough money to get to work on the next phase of our own in-house project."

"About that, how are we going to be able to run this company if its CEO is getting personally involved in high-risk missions?" Wildcard asked.

"She's got a point," Pixy said, "You can't keep doing this anymore. You're the only thing holding this company together."

"Yeah, but it's fun," Nick argued.

Wildcard frowned. "I can think of a few things more fun than living life on the edge. Like, I don't know, spending time with your family? The one that you decided to gamble on this gig?"

Nick sighed. "I guess?"

Pixy watched the two go back and forth, amused.

"You guess?! I'm your wife, and you're saying this to me?!"

Nick groaned. "I guess…?"

"Oh my God."

"Look baby, I'll stop with the high risk missions… but you know if you want something done right…?"

"Then use your money to hire people good enough to do this kind of work! We cannot lean on you and Solo Wing here for every mission!"

Pixy perked up. "Solo Wing Pixy, huh?"

"Okay, okay, look… pitch me a good reason to hire someone on to take over flying missions-"

"I'm fucking pregnant, asshole!" Wildcard shouted.

Pixy had to laugh at the look of stunned silence on his boss's face.

Wildcard glared hotly at her husband, daring him to argue the point any further.

After a few moments of processing that, and thinking better of it, Nick lowered his head and sighed. "Pixy, remember that up and comer we talked about?"

Pixy looked over at him. "Wait, Cipher?"

Nick nodded slowly. "Go find 'em, and see if they're hurting for work."


= = =


Welcome to the Strangereal World, we gots giant robots.

 

[fitzgerald]

The characters are awesome but the wheels on mecha make me want to smash stuff.

So damn conflicted, still an extremely tempting intro into a pbp game

 

[Sharkface]

I'm not sure what to make of this, but it is interesting. I can say you have my attention.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

Reviving this, because something big is a comin'.

 

[TricksterPriest]

Of course it would be her. No one else could have gotten such results from an early mecha prototype.

I wonder if anyone else has figured out who the pilot for the Morgana was.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

Welcome friends, to Super Robot Wars Aurora Jamais Vu: Zero Chapter. An RPG turned fanfic in the making.

-Ace Combat Zero: The Belkan War
-New Mobile Report Gundam Wing
-Full Metal Panic!
-Mazinkaiser OVA/Mazinkaiser vs. Ankoku Daishougun
-Hades Project Zeorymer
-Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion (Pre-Series)
-Mobile Suit Gundam SEED (Pre-Series)

Setting Information​

The year is 1995, despite incredible advances in technology allowing humanity to even reach into and begin the colonization of space, the hearts and souls of people still remain tightly grounded on the Earth. Two of the most powerful countries on the planet are locked tightly in a Cold War, staring one another down across the ocean, ideological tempers held back by the barest of threads.

Recession has ground entire economies to a halt, leading to rises in nationalism, and in turn skirmishes at borders and disputes over resources and technologies that were once thought to save the world, inviting belligerence and tensions.

Terrorism and violence is also rampant. With mercenaries for hire taking any job regardless the consequence. Madmen with contempt of humanity cast panic and terror, from the depths of the sea to unrivaled positions of power. The oppressed, on land and above, bend and twist under these pressures, as emotions ferment and boil.

In this anything but peaceful world, a single spark is all that is necessary to create a conflagration unlike any ever seen before–a war that will engulf the world.

General Information: The setting of Aurora Jamais Vu does not take place on Earth as we know it, but on the alternate reality Earth known as Strangereal.

Spoiler: Strangereal Map (Warning! Big!)

Strangereal, as can be seen, is a different world than ours but technology, culture, and history are recognizably similar. Geopolitically, in the world of Aurora Jamais Vu the scene is dominated by the Cold War between the two largest and most powerful nations, Osea and Yuktobania. The next biggest power in the world is Holy Britannia, which currently resides in what canonically is the Democratic Federation of Wellow. It has a total of eight colonies known as Areas, comprising of the nations of Cayenne (Area 2), Brasalium (Area 3), Carranza (Area 4), Valverde (Area 5), Leasath (Area 6), Aurelia (Area 7), and the former Sanc Kingdom (Area 8). Following Britannia in the global power chain is The Empire of Verusa (China), Europa (Mideast Analogue), and Usea.

Space is under development in this setting, The Republic of Levant and and the island nation of Adama lead the world in colony construction, having developed dozens of space colonies in the last fifty years thanks to the miracle mineral Sakuradite. These colonies include the PLANT hourglass types that provide food for the colonies commissioned by the Britannia, Belka, Yuktobania, Verusa, and Osea. The colonies, as of late, have begun to desire self-governence, while the PLANT colonies have begun organizing a civilian militia equipped with state of the art technology.

Adama is the world's leading supplier of Sakuradite, and has avoided the brunt of economic hardship that has left world tensions high. It is also considered a nexus of advancing science and technology, a nation of warriors turned scholars–though the honorable traditions of their forefathers are proudly kept.

Technology is dominated by the proliferation of Black Technology developed by super intelligent youths known as Whispered, and Sakuradite-based high tech. While more mundane examples of technology such as smartphones and quantum computers have become commonplace, esoteric tech including optical camouflage and AI remains under military development.

Throughout the world, military technology is evolving rapidly. While the majority of the world still utilizes conventional forces, Black Technology has created the Arm Slave, a humanoid combat unit. Yuktobania and Osea lead the world in Arm Slave technology, though Verusa and Usea are close behind. Britannia has little interest in Black Technology, but is well ahead in development of its own humanoid units, the Knightmare Frame. In space however, the "Mobile Suit" has become popular, with PLANT leading the technology race as they distance themselves further from their Earthbound sponsors.

The military industrial juggernaut in the world, however, is Belka. With unprecedented military and industrial buildup, Belka's increasingly belligerent nationalist and revanchist rhetoric is cause for concern among its neighbors, including Osea, and even Britannia. The Belkans are fiercely self-determined and proud, rivaling Britannia in many respects, and the world will soon know it, if they don't already.


Faction List

Osea: The Osea Federation is the biggest dog on the block and the Strangereal version of the Cold War Era United States. A liberal democratic republic with a large military, it is currently locked in cold war with the communist Union of Yuktobanian Republics, which lies across the Ceres Ocean to the west. Osea has close ties with most of the nations situated on the Osean continent, with the exception of The Principality of Belka, which accuses Osea of fraud and causing severe economic upheaval that resulted in a great loss of territory.

The Cold War with Yuktobania has led to Osea possessing one of the largest and most advanced militaries on the planet. With a large army, navy, and air force, it's also one of the world authorities on aerospace and robotics development. In addition to cutting edge fighters such as the F-14D, F-15, F/A-18, and stealth aircraft such as the B-2 bomber, Osea is in the midst of trialling the XM9 Gernsback Arm Slave–purportedly the most advanced combat mecha on the planet.

Yuktobania: The Union of Yuktobanian Republics, or simply Yuktobania, is a Socialist military state currently embroiled in Cold War with Osea. Yuktobania's closest ally, Estovakia to the north, relies heavily upon Yuktobanian military and financial aid, while Yuktobania itself has close ties to the Oil-Producing states that like west of it. Despite mutual enmity with Osea, Yuktobania and Belka are ideological enemies, due in large part to a war nearly 50 years ago. It also cares little for Britannia and its Emperor, who frequently accuses Yuktobania of attempting to undermine its control of overseas territory.

Possessing one of the most well trained and organized militaries on the planet, it holds the edge in ICBM technology and shipbuilding in the world. Its mainstays include the MiG-29 and Su-27 fighter, as well as the F-16C and Tornado attack planes. It is close behind Osea in the field of mechanics, fielding the Rk.92 Savage and the much larger and more heavily armed and armored MSJ-04 Fanton "Mobile Suit". Its greatest strength, however, is in its large population of Black Technology-developing Whispered.

Holy Britannia: The Holy Empire of Britannia (replacing Wellow on the map) appears to be a harmless relic of the past on the surface–but is well and truly a modern country with economic power, technology, and a military rivalling Osea and Yuktobania. Led by the Emperor Charles zi Britannia, who commands absolute rule over the country, Britannia is a nation of Social Darwinists that exists under the maxim of "might makes right". Britannia has been Belka's oldest enemy since the early years of both nations, and as such is frequently finding itself on the good side of Osea in conflicts with the former nation, due to the barrier between them that Belka represents. It regards nearly every other nation as weaker than itself, even the superpowers Osea and Yuktobania, for their naïve ideals such as equality and democracy.

As a highly self-determined nation, Britannia's military is unlike any other, still employing medieval nobility ranks in its military. However it's technology is anything but dated–making extensive use of Sakuradite Ore to produce weapons and equipment unlike any the world has seen. With an official refusal to adopt Black Technology full scale, Britannia lacks combat mecha as of January 1, 1995. Though in truth, they have been evaluating heavily modified XM9 Gernsback Arm Slave within its most elite unit, the Knights of the Round, as part of its own in-house mecha development–the Knightmare Frame. Its revolutionary passive-stealth aircraft designs, such as the F-117 Knighthawk and F-22 Raptor have been stolen and copied throughout the world as a cheaper alternative to the limited Electronic Concealment System (or ECS). The only area that Britannia seems to lag behind the rest of the world, is its naval capabilities. It employs no aircraft carriers, preferring guided missile cruisers and arsenal ships.

Belka: A country scorned, within the last decade The Belkan Federation has undergone sociopolitical and economic upheaval due to recession and bad business dealings with neighbor Osea. A nation now half its size following the Federal Law Review of 1988, Belka has been all but helpless to watch former territory break away including the newly independent Ustio, Gebet, Ratio, and Recta. Most Belkans are fierce, prideful nationalists and self-determined, much like Britannians, and the bitterness of the past decade is like a poison in their words and hearts.

In spite of its losses, Belka is still a military juggernaut on the Osean Continent, with quality of forces able to make Parity with both Osea and Britannia. Its legendary air force, with many pilots trained and descended from nobility, are a source of romantic stories the world over. Belka operates many different kinds of aircraft, but especially the Rafale Multirole fighter, the JAS-39 Gripen, the Europan-built Eurofighter Typhoon, and the MiG-31 Foxhound. It also has a substantial in-house aircraft and weapons development program. In terms of robotics, Belka is rumored to be evaluating different combat mecha units, including the Zy-98 Shadow, the XM9 Gernsback, the ZGMF-1017 GINN, and a weapon system known as the Multipurpose Agile Tank.

Eastern Osea: Consisting of the countries Sapin, Wielvarkia, Ratio, Fato, and Britannian Area 8 (formerly the Sanc Kingdom) most are separated from Osea by Belka and its recently separated territories. They represent a third world, leaning more upon Usea to the east than their superpower brother to the west, in order to avoid influence from Britannia to the north. The fall of the Sanc Kingdom 15 years ago at the hands of Britannia and the Far Western Nations is a source of enmity for these nations–to Osea as well, for their refusal to intervene on the destruction of a sovereign, pacifistic nation.

OPEC/OCC (Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries/Organization of Colony Constructors: Comprised of largely Islamic nations west of Yuktobania, Europa, Sotoa, Levant, Karabastan, Rahseedi Tamudia, and Azadistan (replacing Central and South Sotoa on the map) represent the leading Oil Producing nations in the world. Europa, Sotoa, and Levant, along with the nation of ORB (replacing Indus/Vedia on the map) were also the leading colony constructors. For 50 years they have been building space colonies in the various lagrange points above the Earth, including the PLANT Cluster, which is responsible for most of the food grown for the growing space colonist population.

15 years ago, the non-PLANT colonies began a movement for independence that the OCC nations quickly crushed through a military alliance known as the Organization of the Zodiac. This led to the dissolution of the independence supporting Sanc Kingdom and the rise of the Attha family in ORB, which withdrew from the OCC and became a neutral power alongside Usea. The PLANT colonies, using their leverage as food producers, claimed independence and created the ZAFT militia in order to protect itself from aggression. In response, the Organization of the Zodiac still commands a heavy presence in the non-independent colonies, making extensive use of mass produced mobile suits derived from the OZ-00MS Tallgeese prototype, particularly the OZ-06MS Leo. On Earth, the Leo is joined by the OZ-07AMS Aries and OZ-07MS Tragos artillery Mobile Suit.

PLANT/ZAFT: PLANT, named for the Hourglass type colony that its inhabitants live in, is a cluster of colonies that identify as an independent nation at Lagrange Point 5. Its population is made up of Coordinators, genetically engineered humans who, over the past fifty years, have fled various persecutions on Earth. Unlike the colonies under the control of the OCC, PLANT was able to leverage its political power as a food producer (and its population of near superhumans) in order to gain a recognized independence from both Osea and Yuktobania in spite of the protests of the OCC and Britannia. With this, they formed ZAFT, a civilian militia meant to repulse belligerence from the Earth below.

Despite recognition from both Osea and Yuktobania, a large number of unmodified humans (Naturals) in both countries despise Coordinators, and numerous terrorist attacks have been carried out against PLANT. Full on war is unlikely however, due to ZAFT's extremely powerful and dangerous ZGMF-1017 GINN Mobile Suit and the highly advanced Nazca-class space cruiser.

ORB: An island nation (replacing Indus/Vedia) located between the OPEC/OCC Nations and Usea, ORB was formerly a member of the OCC until the crushed colony resistance movement in the late 1970s/early 1980s saw the fall of the then ruling Sahaku family and the rise of the pacifistic Attha clan. In protest of the brutality of the Organization of the Zodiac, ORB withdrew from the OCC and entered the growing third world movement fostered by Usea.

In effect a neutral country within Usea's sphere of influence, ORB is most influential for its Mass Drivers and space transport companies. It is also considered a safe haven for many mercenary groups who wish not to operate out of any of the main powers. The largest of these companies, Rebel Yell LLC is an in-house developer of a new series of combat unit based off data collected from Arm Slaves and First Generation Mobile Suits–The Multipurpose Agile Tank.

Adama: The State of Adama, located south of the Osean Federation, is another third world power. It sits upon the world's largest reserves of Sakuradite Ore on the planet. As a result, it is an economic powerhouse, able to sway markets and allegiances without firing a shot. It is also the only country that Britannia bends at the knee to in order to maintain its Sakuradite revolution. Despite its economic supremacy, Adama is a nation with a rich warrior heritage, and a history of wars against even Osea in days long past–including an allegiance with Belka that saw Osea's crushing defeat in a war 80 years ago.

Adama's defense forces are unexpectedly conventional for its economic power, making use of licensed versions of Osean weapons for the most part, but also employing mercenaries from ORB to make up for its numerically small defense forces. Its real protection is the military strength of Osea serving as a deterrent from potential aggressors… that and the world's first and only Super Robot: Mazinger Z.

The Factions Continued

Photonic Power Laboratory: The leading authority on the research of Sakuradite and similar rare metals. They stand as the core of Adama's successes throughout the latter half of the twentieth century. Founded by Professor Juzo Kabuto over six decades ago when he kicked off the Sakuradite Revolution, the Photonic Power Laboratory has seen itself evolve from a peaceful rare earth producer, to a clean energy advocate, to Adama and the world's last line of defense against true evil.

Not a decade after the start of the Sakuradite Revolution, Professor Kabuto accompanied an international party of scientists to the country of Estovakia, where a Belkan scientist unearthed large mechanical monsters created by a long dead civilization. The Belkan Scientist, calling himself Dr. Hell, unleashed an onslaught that wiped out the party except for Professor. Kabuto. Recognizing the threat to humanity, and that Dr. Hell would need Sakuradite to achieve his goals, Professor Kabuto fled to Adama and began work on what would become Adama's greatest heroic figure–Mazinger Z.

Mithril: A highly secretive and elusive Private Security Company that specializes mostly in counter-terrorism and personal protection. Equipped with bleeding edge technology ahead of Osea, they are an organization dedicated to bringing about peace and defusing volatile situations. In recent days, they have become heavily involved in the acquisition and protection of the special class of people known as "Whispered". They are opposed primarily by the Private Military Company Amalgam.

Mithril, despite its secrecy, openly takes in personnel from other countries. Osean, Yuktobanian, even Belkan, Britannian, and ZAFT. The mission of the organization takes precedent over such things as political boundaries and ideologies, and this camaraderie is strong within its ranks. In terms of military equipment, Mithril's small forces are technologically advanced, employing the M9E Gernsback Arm Slave, F-35B Lightning II and AV-8B Harrier II fighters, several attack, recon, and transport helicopter types, and–most importantly, the TDD-1 Tuatha de Danaan, a Black Technology Enhanced Amphibious Assault Submarine with Ballistic Missile capability.

Amalgam: The dark reflection of Mithril, a PMC with deep pockets and deeper ambitions, they are considered a destabilizing force in the world due to their penchant of inflaming and supporting regional conflicts and criminal enterprises in order to test new weapons systems under the table for their manufacturers. Much like Mithril, they have a strong interest in acquisition of the Whispered, but intend to exploit and profit off the information they possess.

Like Mithril, they take on all sorts. They do not discriminate so long as they are useful to the organization. Recently, however, they've gotten a strong influx of Yuktobanian support once leaks became apparent that Osean equipment was being heavily fielded by Mithril. As such, the conflict between Mithril and Amalgam has become another proxy war between the two superpowers. To match the top of the line M9E, Amalgam employs Yuktobanian built the Zy-98 Shadow–with projects based on its frame advancing steadily.

Verusa: Verusa is a "closed country" located south of Yuktobania. Sealed off from the rest of the world by an absolute imperial monarchy known as the Hau Dragon Dynasty, they have been locked away from the world since a war in the 1940s with Holy Britannia. Little is known of the geopolitical scene inside of Verusa, but since the Colony Independence Movement and the deepening of the Cold War between Osea and Yuktobania, precious glimpses of the world past its sealed borders have provided stark and disturbing imagery.

While boasting quite possibly the largest population in the world, the majority live in crushing poverty while the imperial court live in such lavish wealth and luxury that it seems like an entirely different world. Verusa's military, though its full extent is ill understood, is powerful enough to hold its own against its neighbor Yuktobania–and rumors abound that its capabilities are only growing.

Last Guardian: An Adamanian Black Organization, connected to Amalgam and Adama's Photonic Power Laboratory. Very little is known of Last Guardian, other than the rumors that they have acquired technology developed by the secretive Hau Dragon Dynasty of Verusa–technology that has since been buried deep underground out of fear of its power. This buried tech is simply known in intelligence circles as "Zeorymer of the Heavens".

Mikene Empire: A powerful entity that lurks in the seas of the Ceres and Pacific Oceans, targeting mainly Adama but lashing out at whatever nation it feels stands in the way of its goals, this terroristic organization is led by the mad Dr. Hell–a megalomaniacal genius dead set upon ruling the world. To that end, he employs elite shock troops, powerful weapons, and unheard of Mechanical Beasts to achieve his goals. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for the world… he is directly and successfully opposed by the Photonic Labs and their "Super Robot", Mazinger Z.

Unfortunately, despite Mazinger's successes… Dr. Hell's genius makes him difficult to track and defeat once and for all. It is believed that his evasion is assisted.

Rebel Yell LLC: A Private Military Company based out of ORB. Much like Mithril and Amalgam, they are an open organization with an in-house research and development wing for the construction of weapons. Seen as a more accessible alternative to Mithril and Amalgam, they handle low-intensity conflicts and threats with a surprisingly large (if dated) set of equipment. They do jobs at a higher rate than most other organizations, but afford complete confidentiality to their clients, with no records of communication kept and all transactions done in cash.

Rebel Yell LLC tends to not discriminate towards its members except for one case: They do not, under any circumstance, take in Britannians as members–even those who've sworn against the Empire. This is due to the fact that a large proportion of Rebel Yell's staff are Numbers–people from the conquered Areas of the Holy Britannian Empire. Their current most up to date Equipment are the F-15C Eagle, the E-2D Hawkeye, the F-14B Bombcat, the Sk-92 Savage, and an in-house machine known as the Bogart MAT, the Multipurpose Agile Tank.

 

[Leftoverfiend]

The idea that planes are somehow useless against giant robots is an insult to Macross.

...Zeorymer?! A name I haven't heard in... Interesting to see that one in use, having been largely eclipsed by its creator's later work. This should be fun, those mecha could probably take Godzilla in a slightly unfair fight.

 

[Rieverre]

Man, I'm really hoping you do a good Cipher. He's enough of a blank slate that you could do pretty much anything, but here you could pull off something awesome.

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

And now a short epilogue for a short story:


= = =


The duties of the Knights of the Round seemed to be in something of a transitory period. This was inevitable, so much as certain members of Britannian nobility may wish that everything would stay the same forever, the world is in a constant state of motion. Bismarck Waldstein would be the first Knight of One within a new era of warfare, where being a Knight meant a little bit more than it had in previous years.

Bismarck Waldstein pushed open the doors to the throne room and stepped inside. Bismarck was distinctive even among a group like the Rounds. For one thing, his left eye was sewn shut with golden string, and if you happen to see that this is otherwise then it would be wise to make peace with your maker. As to his clothing, the ornate white uniform of the Rounds marked him as one of the highest in the Britannian military, but in truth one might say that he was the highest authority within the military who answered to but a single person.

Charles zi Britannia. the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, who was seated on his throne at the end of the room. Alone, for once. How merciful. No need to play up for the court so that they could talk more privately.

Bismarck strode across the room and bent his knee before his Emperor and old friend.

"Hail your Majesty," he proclaimed.

Charles looked down upon Bismarck and nodded, silently commanding for him to rise. He considered the man before him, the recently ascended Knight of One, a reliable servant and follower of his ideals. Were there a man worthy of trusting the deepest secrets of his ambition to, it was this one without question.

Bismarck rose to his feet. "I have returned from the intelligence bureau, and there are two issues that require addressing: The Morgana's performance, and the attempted intrusion by a foreign power."

Morgana, the young Prince Schneizel's project. He was personally overseeing the development of a new technology, based on the unknown, little understood "Black Technology."

To Bismarck, the furor around the project amused him. The nobility and the military alike rankled at the idea, it ate away at Britannian pride not to have developed it themselves. Yet at the same time the notion that other nations might be more advanced in their research into such fields–why, it was truly shocking to them.

The news of Schneizel's endeavors to establish an in house mechanics division had impressed Charles, more so of how far it quickly advanced. It was for this reason alone the Emperor had even allowed it to continue. The news that some foreign power, possibly Belka, or even Yuktobania or Osea would be so bold as to spy or sabotage the effort had impressed him... but he had waited for Bismarck's arrival to hear his view of it.

"And what have you learned?" The white-haired and clean-shaven Emperor asked as he reclined in his seat, waiting for Bismarck's reply.

"I'll begin with the more vital matter: the foreign power that dared to attempt sabotage against us through force of arms." Bismarck's brow furrowed. "They appear to have been operating through a mercenary operation known as Rebell Yell LLC, a group made up almost entirely of Numbers. Unfortunately we may never know their client's true identity, at least through investigative means."

Unfortunate because they would be able to direct diplomatic pressure on the relevant nation. Bismarck was a mighty warrior, but if the diplomatic method did not work then there was a very good chance that war would break out in the near future. He was an odd soldier. He enjoyed fighting, but detested war. The reason was simple: Bismarck could comfortably guarantee his own survival, but not those beneath him.

Charles hummed. Number Mercenaries, not an uncommon thing. Conquered people with no land or country often attempt to reject their place in the world. They'll lie, cheat, steal, and murder in order to feel like they are part of something. It's only fitting that they would be so bold to strike at the very heart of Britannia.

Charles found that curious. "How were they able to penetrate so deeply into our territory?"-

Bismarck nodded. "A good question, one that I haven't an answer for yet. Our radar picket stations surrounding the area detected no aircraft, and they evaded air patrols covering that region. Combined with the engagement itself, it stands to reason that these mercenaries are highly trained and capable."

"And they were able to escape how?" Charles was pointed in the question.

Bismarck smirked, the Emperor knew well of his involvement. "They impressed me, your Majesty. In inferior machines and against someone they knew to be of higher caliber, they fought passionately and competently. They've done what only one other before could claim."

Charles lifted an eyebrow, and sat up in his throne. His gaze was locked directly onto Bismarck's sewn-shut eye. To hear such praise of mere Number Mercenaries from the new Knight of One intrigued the Emperor.

"You wish to face them on equal terms," Charles determined.

With a nod of confirmation, Bismarck continued. "I am not alone. The other Knights of the Round are quite eager to cross swords with this group. It is a rare thing for them to encounter enemy fighters of their caliber, people that they can go all out against."

"It is only natural. It has been a great long time since anything resembling a challenge has appeared before you," Charles said.

Bismarck smiled somewhat, something surprising to see of such a stoic man. "I was wondering if Her Majesty had gotten to you before I could in regards to the engagement. It appears that she did."

Were anyone else present, they would've been startled to see the Emperor break into a small chuckle. "She talked my ear off about it. If you'd heard it from her, you'd swear that she would rather still be out there."

And that made the equally stoic Bismarck break into a laugh as well. That woman was something else! "I am sure that Lady Marianne has informed you of this much already, then. Morgana exceeded our expectations tremendously. Its capabilities have persuaded even the more resistant of the Rounds, and I formally request that they be placed into extremely limited production, for our use until better technology is developed."

He gestured emphatically to denote his humble request. "Think of it as stress testing. If anyone can bring these machines to the limit, it will be us. Then our researchers will have much more valuable data to use as they develop the technology further."

Charles agreed. "The resources the Knightmare Frame program requires to construct further Morgana units will be allocated."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Bismarck said with genuine gratitude. "As for the mercenaries, how shall they be handled?"

Charles leaned forward some in his throne, when he heard the request from his Knight of One. "These number mercenaries, Knight of One, though they are out of our reach… keep an eye on them. Much like you, I have a curiosity that must be satisfied. For now, that will be all."

Bismarck nodded and bowed. "As you wish, your Majesty."

As his Knight of One turned and left, Charles reclined back in his throne. To defy Bismarck was to deny fate. The ability to overcome such unmovable forces was an admirable quality to have, even in his eyes.


= = =

There's more to come, trust me...

 

[warlock7]

And i wonder...
Where is Lelouch here?

 

[The Ero-Sennin]

And i wonder...
Where is Lelouch here?

Click to shrink...

You should go here.