U.C. 0097-Side 1-Londenion-Ra Cailum

"General Revil is approaching the first defense line! The Calypso and Ra Kiem are in position and ready to engage!"

"Mobile Suit Squadrons Alpha through Delta have confirmed the launch of Federation Mobile Suits! General Revil’s escorts are taking up screening positions!"

As his bridge crew called out from their stations around him the leader of Londo Bell, Captain Bright Noa, considered his situation. Even with the defecting Federation vessels, he wasn’t sure if they had enough ships and Mobile Suits to emerge from this battle victorious.

"Message from the General Revil!" his communicators officer spoke up, turning to look at him, "They’re demanding that we surrender immediately!"

"Surrender?" Bright repeated with a touch of incredulity. They really thought that he would surrender after everything that had happened? If he did, everyone on Londenion, all the men and women under his command, his family, his son, they were all-!

"I think-" Bright gripped the armrest, staring at the video feeds from the first defense line, "-that we are far beyond words at this point. All ships, fire on my command. After our initial barrage I want our Mobile Suits to follow up. Have the diversionary teams draw fire away from the strike force, then hit the Revil with everything we have."

A chorus of affirmations rang out as the battle chatter increased, the dull drone of a battle alarm serving as backdrop to the impending conflict.

"Amuro," Bright muttered under his breath as the Ra Cailum’s main guns locked into position, "it’s happening again. Those fools never learn…"

"Mega Particle Guns at 100% charge! Firing Solution locked!" Tactical announced. Bright stood up and steeled his gaze.

"All ships, open fire!"

---

In U.C. 0096 The Third Neo Zeon War ended with the opening of Laplace’s Box, revealing the original Charter of the Universal Century. The revelation of the 15th Article threw the Earth Sphere into turmoil. Responding to an increased call for Spacenoid self-governance, the Federation began tightening its grip. Humanity’s Potential, which seemed so tantalizingly within reach, began to fade into the growing flames of war.

---

U.C. 0098-Side 5 "Loum"-Island Cascadia-Naese Household

The mirror on your vanity is cracked, but it’s enough to get the job done. Working off of what little unbroken surface remains, you finish braiding your hair into one long red braid, which you brush over your shoulder like always. Moving over to your worn dresser you pick through what few clothes you have, briefly considering what to wear. Most of it is secondhand, except for a nice sundress your mother bought for you a year ago. It’s your only outfit that even approaches formal, so that’s a no-go for today. A plain shirt and jeans it is, then.

You toss them onto your bed and quickly consult your calendar, one of many decorations covering the faded walls of your apartment complex. Mostly it’s free promotional stuff from the Cascadian government. It used to be that you had wall-to-wall posters of Federation ships and Mobile Suits, but you tore those down almost two years ago now.

Nothing major today. Guess you’ll hit the simulators. You heard that they got some new combat data last week. You’re always up for a new scenario, it’s getting hard to top your score on the last one anyways.

Phone, handbag, and finally your jacket. An old, worn black leather jacket that used to belong to your father when he was young. A bit too small for your older brother, but just right for you.

Also, pockets.

The pockets are nice.

"I’m headed out," you announce, walking fast through the cramped living/dining room just down the hallway, "Call me if you need anything."

You’re almost to the door when your mother flags you down with a small bag in hand.

"Cybele!" she hands you the package with a smile, "Would you be a dear and take this to your brother? He forgot his lunch."

Yep, that sounds like Kaylen. He was probably in too much of a hurry to get to work. His C.O. always gives him hell when he oversleeps.

"Are you going to be busy today?" your mother asks hopefully.

"I was planning on hitting the simulators," you answer, "Why?"

"Oh, well I was wondering if you had time to help me with something," she sighs, "There’s one last box of your father’s things to go through from the storage unit. It’s a bit much to go through on my own, but if you can’t spare the time, that’s no problem. Have fun!"

You give your mom a kiss on the cheek and head out. Your mother, older brother, and yourself have been sorting through a bunch of boxes that your father left in a storage unit, one which you didn’t even know about until about a week ago when the company operating it told you the rental period had finally expired. You had initially hoped to find something exciting in it, but it was mostly a bunch of memorabilia from his time with the AEUG, along with some trinkets that you think might have been gifts he intended to give to you and your brother if he hadn’t died during the battle at Gryps II.

"Newtypes are demons!" some deranged maniac shouts from a nearby street corner near your apartment, waving homemade flyers in the air, "Demons sent from Hell to purge the Earth Sphere of Humanity! If we desire peace in our time, then we must-!"

You tune him out, walking right by. Lunatic. Federation propaganda is one thing, but you can’t even imagine what sort of narrative that guy is feeding into. Some people are just flat out crazy.

What is peace? Adults have always told you that peace is when there is harmony between everyone, when there is no war, no fighting, no killing. It sounds lovely, but you’ve never truly experienced that for yourself. Just one year after you were born, Zeon remnants dropped Island Ease onto North America, and in response the Titans were formed.

As you walk down the streets of your city, you can see their legacy. Faded posters in back alleys and abandoned checkpoints every few blocks. They used to have a facility here and a little garrison, and if what your mother says is true then they weren’t well-loved. After the Titans were annihilated at Gryps 2, the remaining Titans here kind of scattered to the wind. They probably feared retribution. Now the colony is free of their oppression, and everyone walks around freely. The bustle of daily life fills the air around you. Looking up you see the tall apartment buildings flanking each street, with shops and other businesses at street level. Everything is a little worn down, a little ragged, just like the colony itself and the people who live here.

A hairdresser’s shop with a Zeon flag hung in the front window reminds you of the next "occupiers" of this colony. Neo Zeon. You grew up with those guys hanging around the city, then after them the Sleeves. It’s not that Cascadia Island is diehard Zeon supporters, but after years of Titan occupation, you suppose people here just wanted to side with someone who shared common interests.

---

The Linear Train races along the outer wall of the colony, interior crowded. You barely managed to get a seat. It’s stuffy and cramped. You can’t get out soon enough when it pulls into your destination several minutes later. From there it’s a quick walk to the port.

"Hey," you wave to one of the guards by the port’s military entrance, the gruff older man familiar to you, "I have something for Kaylen."

The guard recognizes you and lets you pass. You don’t make it a habit to wander the place, but you’re here often enough that you’re a regular sight. After all, the Cascadia Self Defense Force base is the only place in the colony where you can see real, operational military Mobile Suits!

The hangar is awash with activity, Cascadia’s defending behemoths all lined up in two rows, a handful of technicians and pilots conducting maintenance on their MS. It’s a mashup of suits from various conflicts. There are a few Hizacks, a handful of various GM variants, and even a couple of Gaza-Cs! But all of them pale in comparison to the single Doven Wolf standing near the front! Piloted by Cascadia’s resident veteran of the Gryps war, former AEUG pilot Miles Benning!

You don’t know the man that well, you just like his suit. You take a moment to admire it as you pass the Doven Wolf’s massive legs. You wonder what it must be like to pilot something like that. For real, you mean. You’ve flown one in the simulator, but that’s not the same.

A few more Suits down stands your brother’s RGM 79-GS, a relic of the One Year War. It’s painted in Cascadia’s signature dark green with dark blue highlights. Oh? One of the arms is off.

"Kaylen!" you shout out to your older brother, his dirty mop of red hair standing out against the armor of his MS’s right arm, "You forgot this!"

He turns to look at you, oil streaking his jumpsuit and some tool in his hand. He instantly recognizes you, greeting you with a smile.

"Hey, Cybele, look who finally got up!" he smirks, accepting his lunch as placing it on a nearby tool cabinet, "If you slept in any longer, I bet mom would have asked me to buzz the apartment!"

The thought of your whole apartment complex getting shocked awake by a Mobile Suit flyby does amuse you. Although you doubt anybody would really appreciate that. He’s just joking. Probably.

"What are you doing, Kay?" you ask, peering at the detached arm on the hangar floor, "Need a hand?"

He nods, "Actually yeah if you have the time, Cy. The right elbow feels kind of loose, and I was trying to diagnose the issue. It’s not terribly important, but with another hand to help we could have this done in a couple of hours."

This wouldn’t be the first time you helped your brother work on his MS, and to be honest it’s actually quite fun. But your mother also needs help, and you wanted to hit the simulator today… argh!

"Why don’t you get one of the mechanics here to help you?" you ask. You mean, wasn’t that one of the perks of being in a military organization? The maintenance of your MS would be supported by the group?

"I would, but they’re all tied up right now making sure our Suits are ready to head out if necessary," he shrugs, unconcerned, "A small Federation task force was spotted in the sector. We don’t think it’s headed here, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared."

So Kaylen doesn’t strictly need your help, he’d just like it. Normally you would be all for an opportunity to work on his MS, but your mom needed help too, and you can almost hear the combat simulators calling your name…

---

[] Help your brother repair his Mobile Suit.

[] Go help your mother sort out your father’s things.

[] Go to the combat simulators.