The chill of the reinforced bunker did little to settle the commander's mind. News of the Zudah attack on the outer wall had hardened the resolve of their enemies. The Empire of Japan and the UN were tightening their grip, their coastal patrols had increased.
"Commander, the UN and the Empire of Japan have significantly increased their defenses," Jean stated, her voice crisp but carrying an edge of concern.
"Mhm... I'm aware," I replied, running a hand through my long hair. The tactical display on the holotable showed the world in harsh, unfriendly detail. "The operational plan is already finalized, and frankly, our operational space is too limited. We lack air superiority, and a direct assault on the Beta-infested zones would only see us overrun. That leaves two viable options."
I grabbed a laminated map, spreading it out before her. "We either attempt a foothold invasion of Kyushu, or we retake Hive 22 our former farm and establish our first true base of operations, the new Zeon."
Jean's brow furrowed as she studied the map, her gaze lingering on the Kyushu coastline. "Commander, I think taking back the former Hive 22 is the easier route. If we try to take Kyushu, the Japanese populace will almost certainly revolt. Worse, they could capture and exploit our Mobile Suit technology."
"Mhm... You make a strong point," I conceded. Practicality trumps ambition for now. "Alright, we will retake our former farm. Prepare the Zaku Cannons and the Half-Cannons, and get the Zudahs ready. Mount them on the Dodai II transports. Though we can't permanently house them in the bunker, their VTOL system makes them essential for this assault."
Jean simply nodded, her efficient mind already running through logistics, and turned to leave.
"Jean."
She stopped, turning back to face me. "Yes, Commander?"
"I want a decoy team," I said, leaning closer. "Their mission is to hit Kyushu and force them to relocate some of their TSFs (their Tactical Surface Fighters) to the south. Make sure the intelligence of an impending attack in Kyushu leaks to the UN and the Japanese forces."
Jean's eyes gleamed with immediate understanding. "Understood. The enemy's focus will be miles away when we strike. Sieg Zeon."
One Day Before the Invasion of Former Hive 22
Jean stood on a temporary podium, overlooking ten pilots. They were the elite, clad in the sleek, dark blue and black of their pilot uniforms. The air in the hangar was thick with ozone and anticipation.
"Today, the ten of you will act as a lightning rod," Jean announced, her voice booming with conviction. "You are the decoys for the main invasion of the former Hive 22. Your mission is to inflict heavy damage—your targets are factories, ammo dumps, and fuel depots. We have already ensured the enemy knows you are coming."
She paused for dramatic effect. "When you engage, our main force will wait two hours before launching the primary assault. After that time, you will disengage and retreat. This is critical—it must be believable."
Her eyes swept over the pilots, burning with zeal. "You, the selected few, are Zeon's best pilots. We do our best, as we rule space!"
"Sieg Zeon!" she cried, raising a fist.
A thunderous chorus of ten voices echoed back: "Sieg Zeon! Sieg Zeon! Sieg Zeon!"
The pilots dispersed toward the towering forms of their Zudahs.
"Heh, can't believe we're being sent on a death mission," muttered a pilot named Peter as he climbed the ladder to his cockpit.
"Shut it, Peter! We're Zeon!" another pilot, Jim, laughed boisterously. "We have the best Mobile Suits. And what do they have? I could beat their TSFs in an Oggo or a Wappa!"
"Hahaha! Real funny, Jim!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm the joker of the team," he replied, settling into his seat.
A female pilot's voice crackled, cutting through the cockpit's comms, sharp as a shard of steel.
"Shut it, you jerks! We have a job to do. And don't forget this: if any of you die, I personally will drag you out of hell before you even get there!"
Jim's laughter died in his throat. "Yes, yes, we got it, Captain May," he mumbled.
"Good. Now then... get bloody moving!" she screamed into the mic.
"Right on it, sir!" Jim yelped, jolted, before the lift began to carry his Mobile Suit to the surface.
Three Hours Before the Invasion of Former Hive 22
"I have spotted the wall," a pilot's voice came over the comms, his tone clinical. The monocular eye of his Zudah glowed red, its thermals painting a picture of the target. "I see 20 tanks on the wall and 10 TSFs."
"Alright, spread out," Captain May ordered.
"Bazooka team, head to the front. On my mark, prepare to fire."
The ten Zudahs swiftly altered their formation. The units equipped with Bazookas moved to the vanguard, while those armed with Zaku Machine Guns flared out to the flanks.
"Fire!"
Four Bazookas spat their payloads. The rockets slammed into the fortified coastal wall—a massive portion crumbled, and several of the tanks perched atop the structure exploded in blossoms of fire.
"Okay, move back. Let us handle this," a machine-gun-equipped pilot said, gesturing for the bazooka team to fall behind the line.
"You know the plan, so be ready for an ambush," May warned.
"Heh, don't worry, May. After all, we've got a surprise for them," Jim's voice chimed in with a reckless chuckle.
"Yeah, I just hope we won't be using that until we can pull out," another pilot grumbled.
"Don't worry! We just have to hold out for two hours, right?" Jim said, tapping the thick armor plating on his Zudah's chest.
"They can't even scratch us! Their TSFs are toys next to our real armor."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," May conceded, though her focus was already shifting. Ten enemy TSFs were streaking toward them, flying low over the water.
"Let's make this quick, but I don't want anyone wasting ammo. We can't resupply here," she commanded.
May boosted forward, the spike on her shield snapping out. She met the lead TSF head-on, her spike piercing through the cockpit with a gruesome crunch. She wrenched the ruined machine free and hurled it into the ocean before pulling a sharp boost-turn away from the incoming squadron.
"They are too fast! I can't see them!" a TSF pilot shrieked over the enemy comms before his machine was ripped apart by a volley from a Zudah machine gun.
"No! You bastards d—" Another pilot's transmission cut off mid-sentence as a heat hawk cut in half his TSF.
"Retreat!" cried one of the final three TSF pilots. He never finished the word—a hail of heavy caliber rounds struck his machine, reducing it to smoking wreckage.
"Captain, all TSFs are down," a pilot reported.
"Good. Continue the advance."
May turned to see the bazooka-equipped Zudahs opening their storage compartments. The rocket shells they loaded now were not high-explosive. They were ominously labeled
G3 Gas
"Is it ready?" May asked.
"Yes, Captain. Five salvos ready to go," came the grim reply.
"Good," May said, her voice dropping a degree. She escorted the bazooka team toward their next target—the nearest concentrated industrial area. The terror campaign had just begun.
UN Headquarters
A frantic, echoing rage filled the UN command room.
"What do you mean!? They managed to destroy ten TSFs!" a UN officer bellowed, his face red.
"You didn't listen, did you? Did you even watch the battle recordings we sent you?" a calmer, but equally exasperated, Japanese officer's voice replied through the console speaker.
"Damn it! Send more TSFs to that location now! No terrorists will breach our defenses!" the UN officer snapped, slamming his fist on the console and cutting the call.
The door swished open, and a figure entered. He moved with a practiced discipline, his salute sharp and perfect.
"Sir, Shirogane Takeru reporting."
A woman in a high-ranking uniform spoke, her gaze unnervingly steady. "Shirogane Takeru, your team will eliminate a group of terrorists operating in Kyushu. If possible... bring them in alive."
"What?!" the UN officer spun around in disbelief. "Why would we let a terrorist live?"
"It's the best course of action to extract crucial intelligence, wouldn't you agree?" the woman said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"I... I guess. Fine. Go now!" the officer reluctantly conceded.
Shirogane Takeru snapped another crisp salute and strode out of the room, leaving.