//------------------------------// // Chapter Nine: Proper Introductions // Story: Civil War // by Lord of Flies //------------------------------// White Base, Starboard Main Hangar “Now closing the hangar hatch!” Babs Seed stood near the hangar entrance connecting to one of the corridors of the White Base. She was waiting for the hangar to pressurize so she could assist in the repairs of the Gundam. And raise her normal suit’s visor. “Hey, miss soldier! Lemme help!” Babs Seed turned. A lean cream coated pegasus walked toward her down the corridor, followed by her cousin, Apple Bloom. “Oh. Featherweight. Hold up. It’s not safe. The hangar’s not fully pressurized yet.” The pegasus chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Don’t worry, though,” Babs Seed said, “I like that attitude!” Featherweight murmured his response. The door to the hangar opened, signaling that it was fully pressurized. “Come on,” Babs Seed encouraged, “I’mma find you something to do.” The Gundam, walking to its spot in the hangar, looked battered. “Jeez,” Babs Seed commented, “looks like it got the tar beat out of it.” “Maintenance, move it!” Featherweight leaned over and told Apple Bloom, “Did you hear? They say that Scootaloo’s piloting that mobile suit.” “Wha?! She is?!” Featherweight shrugged, turning to follow the older mare, and mused, “I suppose that those two are a good match.” ************ “Lieutenant Commander! The laser comm circuit is open, sir! Admiral McIntosh is on the line!” “Alright,” the red earth pony stallion said, “what’d ya do?” Blitz paled, slightly. The admiral continued, “Last evenin’, Ah was all ready to celebrate the completion of yer mission. But…” The pegasus continued to pale. “‘Cause of yer dawdlin’ about, the banquet that Ah ordered was totally wasted. WELL?!” Blitz nodded, and reported, “My mission’s results more than make up for the loss of the banquet, sir. We’ve now got a clear picture of the Federation’s Operation V.” The admiral raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Blitz continued, encouraged by the admiral’s response. “Tanegashima Station was, in fact, a mobile suit research and development facility. The prototypes are already complete… And that ‘supply ship’ you told us to observe has state-of-the-art weapons. It’s probably an assault carrier type warship. However, it looked under equipped for ship of its size.” McIntosh nodded, a smile forming on his face. “That’s a fine intel load. Ah knew that the Red Comet could do it. So, whaddya need?” Blitz paled, very slightly. “I… Well… We paid a steep price for that intel. The full details are in my report.” McIntosh took a clipboard from one of his subordinates. He scanned over the report. “Ah see,” he acknowledged, “ten Zaku IIs and their pilots. However, considerin’ that those two prototypes have hand-held beam weapons, Ah’m okay with this. It’s a good thing that you took out at least one of those prototypes.” Blitz titled his head to the right. “Ah’ll send ya replacement suits.” Blitz saluted, snapping his right hand up to the edge of his helmet, the fire in his eyes hidden by his mask. “My men and I will seize the remaining prototype mobile suit. But the ship will burn. Those Federals won’t reach Terra.” McIntosh’s smile grew wider. “That’s more like it, Blitz!” ************ “White Base will be heading to the Luna II asteroid base!” Bright’s barked orders echoed throughout the vessel. “All crew members, continue with your assignments! Remember to take breaks in turns!” He glanced over at the door, and paused. Sweetie Belle and the light grey pegasus glanced over, too. Sweetie Belle wore a happy expression. The light grey pegasus seemed to smile, slightly. Scootaloo and Babs Seed stood in the doorway. Scootaloo’s jacket was off, and she was holding it in her left hand. Babs Seed had removed her normal suit’s helmet, and had placed her left hand on the younger pegasus’ back. Sweetie Belle said, “Scootaloo!” Scootaloo replied, “Sweetie Belle!” Bright heavily pressed the button to the ship-wide intercom. The sound drew Scootaloo’s attention. Her expression adopted a somewhat stern look. Bright’s expression grew very serious. Merry looked over her shoulder at the new arrival. Captain Cipher commented, “So, it’s you. You’re the pilot…” The clicking of shoe heels against the bridge floor alerted the ponies to Bright walking toward Scootaloo. Scootaloo’s expression became sterner. Bright noticed Babs Seed’s expression become one of confusion. He scrutinized Scootaloo. Her shirt seemed to be bigger than it needed to be, as most pegasi were slim, but shorter than unicorns. Bright also knew, as most ponies do, that most pegasi mares weren’t endowed as well as those of the other races. He extended his arm with the intent to shake Scootaloo’s hand, forcing himself out of his thoughts. The young mare took his hand and shook it. She noticed a slightly sinister smile form on Bright’s face. Her wings twitched involuntarily as she realized that Bright knew that she was hiding something. “You’re good,” Bright complimented, “I wasn’t expecting a young mare to be such a good pilot.” Scootaloo smiled, slightly. “Thank you,” she said, “but I was making it up as I went.” Bright nodded, “I understand. That’s what I’ve been kind of doing, too.” Scootaloo nodded in understanding. “But,” Bright said, his smile fading, “you must use the Gundam more effectively in battle.” Scootaloo blinked. Did Bright just…? She asked, “What?” “The Gundam is a highly advanced prototype. We have little spare parts available for replacements. You cannot be reckless in battle with it.” Sweetie Belle looked at Scootaloo. The telltale signs of stress began showing on her face. The pegasus’ eyes narrowed slightly, mouth turned up into a slight snarl, along with her feathers ruffling. Sweetie Belle hurried to Scootaloo’s side, hoping to defuse the confrontation. “Hey, hey,” she said, shakily, “why don’t you and Babs Seed go and get you a space suit for later sorties?” Babs Seed glanced at Scootaloo, then at Sweetie Belle, then at Bright. She raised an eyebrow. Bright nodded. “Scootaloo,” Babs Seed prompted, cutting through the tension in the air easily, “why don’tcha come with me?” Scootaloo gravely nodded. “Yeah,” she responded, “let’s do that.” The two mares turned and walked away. Sweetie Belle and Bright sighed in relief. Then Sweetie Belle backslapped the Lieutenant. Recoiling from the slap, Bright growled, “What the hell was that for?” Sweetie Belle replied, “Being a mobile suit pilot is more stressful than it looks, you know. Especially since Scootaloo is piloting the Gundam, she is probably a lot more stressed than she looks.” Bright walked over to the captain’s chair and sank into it. He gave a short chuckle. “Yeah. A lot more ponies are more stressed than they look.” The dark, brooding tone in Bright’s voice gave Sweetie Belle pause and sent a shiver up her spine. ************ Falmel, Mess Hall Blizzard Blast walked into the Falmel’s mess hall, looking for someone in particular. Scanning around the room, the pony he was looking for was nowhere to be seen. He tsked in disapproval. Approaching the serving case on the far side of the room, he realized that he had a perfect opportunity to eat a full meal before his boss called him to do something around the ship. He grabbed a full meal: a well-done piece of steak, a generous amount of mashed potatoes with gravy, a small mound of corn, green beans, a glass of milk, and a glass of apple cider. Levitating the ensemble in his magic, he found a table occupied only by a member of the mobile suit maintenance personnel. Setting his meal down, Blast nodded to the smaller unicorn. The other pony nodded in return. Having sat down, Blast picked up the glass of apple cider and poured the cider on his steak. The maintenance unicorn asked, “Why are you pouring apple cider on a steak?” Blast cut out a piece of the steak and put it in his mouth. Once he was done chewing the piece, he swallowed and replied, “It tastes better that way.” The other pony whickered in response to the pilot’s answer. “So,” Blast prompted, “where’s Sub-lieutenant Quartz?” “In the hangar.” Blast nodded, “Thank you.” *** “Sub-lieutenant Quartz!” Quartz turned at the calling of his name. He snapped a salute as he saw that the voice’s owner was Lieutenant Junior Grade Blast. “Sir,” he asked, “what can I do for you?” Blast returned the salute. “Nothing at the moment,” he replied, dropping his hand. The crystal pony nodded, dropping his hand and relaxing slightly. “So,” Blast continued, “what are you doing?” Quartz adjusted his glasses, by the bridge and with his right index and middle fingers, Blast observed. His glasses seemed to shine a bit once they were resting with their bridge between his eyes. “I’m having the maintenance personnel mount my mobile suit with ERA.” “ERA?” “Explosive Reactive Armor. It was used in the late 20th century and early 21st century as a countermeasure against shaped charge munitions.” “But why are you mounting it now?” “I’m sure that we’ll run into some Federal mobile suits once we rendezvous with our resupply ship at Deimos, since, you know, there’s that new Federal warship.” “At least one of the mobile suits has a beam weapon. How’s ERA going to help against that?” “A shaped charge munition creates a superheated jet of metal to punch through armor. The energy from the penetrator punching through the outer plate triggers the explosive sandwiched between the twin metal plates of the armor. The resulting blast disperses the energy of the metal jet. Today’s mega-particle weapons and beam weapons use a jet of superheated plasma to tear through armor. So, the penetrator material is different, but the basic principle is the same. The ERA I’m using is a heavier variant, allowing for more energy to disperse a beam shot.” Blast nodded. “So,” he began, nodding toward the five mobile suits in the hangar, “which one’s yours?” Quartz smiled proudly, as he raised his left arm in the direction of his suit. A mobile suit, vastly different in appearance than the Zaku I and Zaku II type suits that were standard in the New Lunar Republic Military. Ghost white, with a pair of crimson stripes on its head, alongside the top of mono-eye track. A strip of metal bisected the mono-eye track, with a commander’s spike attached to it. Ash grey bricks of ERA were being attached to the mobile suit’s armor, slowly covering up the mobile suit’s color. “What is it?” “It’s a EMS-10 Zudah. Originally, the series went by a different designation.” Blast raised an eyebrow. “Really?” “Yep. It used to go by EMS-04 Zudah.” “What led to the name change?” “Back in U.C. 0075, four companies competed to get their mobile suit design accepted. Zeonic and the Zaku I, Zimmad and the Zudah, and two others that I can’t remember off the top of my head. “The Zudah was, and still is, an overall superior mobile suit when compared to the Zaku I. Good power plant, a well-rounded armament, and unprecedented thrust and acceleration.” “What happened, then?” “The engine that the Zudah units mounted then was the Mercury. A prototype.” “Which meant?” “If the Mercury was overexerted,” Quartz replied, rubbing his right shoulder subconsciously, as if the shoulder connection for his automail ached, “the vibrations it gave off would shake a Zudah apart.” “Ah,” Blast said, nodding in understanding, “so this critical structural failure when overexerted is how the Zaku I, which lacked the Mercury, to win the competition.” Quartz nodded, gravely, “However, Supreme Commander Blueblood decided that the Zudah would make an excellent rear-echelon mobile suit, once changes were made to it.” “Such as?” “Fitting the greatly improved Saturn engine, a movable left shoulder shield, and including the updated weapons of the Zaku II, including a 135mm Anti-Ship Rifle.” Blast shook his head, slightly. “Something wrong, sir?” Quartz sounded concerned. Blast shook his head, “No, no. It-it’s fine. I’ll be going back to my quarters if anyone starts looking for me.” Quartz, unsure of what to make of his superior’s sudden change in attitude, nodded. “Of course.” As Blast walked away, he heard Quartz bark, “OI! Watch what you’re doing with that I-beam!” Somehow, Quartz’s comment made Blast smile slightly. *** Blast entered his quarters and issued a command, “Computer, lock the door to my quarters and let me know if I get any visitors.” “Yes, Lieutenant,” the automated voice responded. Sighing, Blast removed his uniform jacket and tossed it onto his bed. He walked over to his bathroom and placed his hands in front of the sink, staring his reflection in the face. “Hello again, Blast,” his reflection stated, “how are you?” “I wish I didn’t have to deal with you,” Blast replied, coolly. “But you do,” his reflection pointed out, smiling slightly, “and you soldier on. Just as you have since Mom and Dad died.” Blast’s mouth became a thin line. “The medication helps, too.” The reflection sighed, and nodded. “Yeah, and it keeps me away.” “Which is the point of the medication in the first place.” The reflection huffed, and rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. I’ll be here for when you decide my… advice… is better than having me under control.” Blast said nothing, but popped a pill into his mouth and washed it down with a quick gulp of water. He watched as his reflection slowly returned to being his reflection, not a manifestation of his… other… self. Blast shook his head and sighed. Leaving his bathroom, he frowned. He lay on his bed, and sighed again. Deep down, in his heart, Blast knew that his other self was right. ************ White Base, Pilot Suit Storage Scootaloo sighed, and watched Babs Seed rummage through the suit locker. “Babs… Hurry up. I’ve got to do other things. And put my clothes back on.” “You know,” Babs Seed replied, “if your assets weren’t as big as they are now, the first suit I gave you woulda fit.” “S-shut up! It’s not my fault I’m this big!” Babs Seed shrugged. “Here, found one that should fit you.” Babs Seed tossed a white pilot’s suit at the younger pegasus. Scootaloo caught the suit and pulled it on. Zipping up the suit, finally managing to get the zipper past her chest, Scootaloo smiled with pride. “Yes! It’s actually pretty comfortable.” “Yeah, and it’s got a passive enchantment that makes you look like a normal pegasus, asset-wise anyway.” “Well,” Scootaloo mused, “at least I’ll stay this size once I’m an adult.” “Nah. You’ll get bigger.” “What?!” “Mmm-hmm. You’ll be about as big as I am.” Scootaloo’s eyes widened and she gave out a squeak. Babs Seed began giggling, which soon turned into full laughter. “All pilots! Report to the briefing room!” Bright’s bark over the ship intercom snapped the two mares to attention. “Right,” Babs Seed said, grabbing an orange pilot’s suit, “I wonder what the Lieutenant wants.” “Why the orange suit?” “Simple,” Babs Seed replied, “your suit is a new model, issued to the pilots of the Gundam-type suits. The rest of us have to do with the standard-issue orange.” Babs Seed zipped her pilot suit up and picked up her helmet. Shoving Scootaloo’s helmet into the pegasus’ gut, Babs Seed said, “Come on, kid. Let’s go see what the Lieutenant wants.” Scootaloo sighed, but nodded in agreement.