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Creative Writing
Have you heard of our Lord and Saviour Zeon?
Thread starterTamarind
Start dateSep 5, 2022
Tagsbattletech battletech / mechwarrior gundam
Have you heard of our Lord and Saviour Zeon? (Gundam/Battletech) RSS
Last edited Sep 5, 2022
Created atSep 5, 2022Index progressOngoingWatchers818Recent readers950Threadmarks16
Follow our unwitting cult leader as he spreads Contolism in the Inner Sphere and accomplish Zeon Zum Deikun's dream! To finish what he started before it was perverted by the Zabi family.
Longer explanation:
SI is reborn into Mobile Suit Gundam and fights in the One Year War for Zeon. Becomes incredibly traumatised. Is reborn into Battletech in the Federated Suns.
Finding himself in this hellscape of a universe, where people live on planets and fight in an endless war, Huu Theberge vows to spread the word of Zeon Zum Deikun to the masses. To uplift mankind into space, so they might live peacefully and happily forever.
Armed with his Academic System that rewards him with research breakthroughs, he will build his colonies, build the Mobile Suits that will make them possible, and provide a happy and fulfilling life for all.
For readers of my previous work, 'Losing Money to be an Oligarch', expect this to be similarly filled with misunderstandings and what could generously be called crack. As well as explorations of the Federated Suns using source books and the surprising number of cults in Battletech.
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Tamarind
Sep 5, 2022
#1
February 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
+Break+
Madeleine Theberge sat across from her son and raised her eyebrow.
In between them was a table, the same table that they had used for all the decades of their lives to each lunch upon. Made of solid teak, itself a capture from the Draconis Combine.
Indeed, Teak could only grow on a single planet in the entirety of the Combine, that of the world of Jubuka in the Rasalhague Military District. Her father had captured this from a shipment that was meant to be leaving off-world as a mercenary under the Lyran Commonwealth.
Intricately carved, hand polished and sanded if the original manifest (still stuck to the bottom of the table) was telling the truth.
Her son, Huu Theberge looked uncomfortable.
Which he should.
"Your friends. Do you know what they are?" She asked simply once he had poured himself a cup of tea.
"Um. A group of like-minded-" He was cut off as she shook her head.
"No. They are a cult, your friends are a cult, built around this… this…-"
"Contolism?" He answered, looking at her with a questioning gaze, as if he didn't understand this was a serious topic, regardless of how foolish the word sounded.
"Yes, Contolism. This idea of yours that for a better future, everyone should move to space. You are aware that these people around you take this idea extremely seriously?" She asked, having seen how he had come back from his conscription to serve in the militia on their world of Diboll. Had seen how the dream he had as a child had turned into an actual, fully fledged ideology with its own god and belief system. One that had caught multiple members of the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns (AFFS) in its clutches, a serious worry if the Department of Military Intelligence (DMI) were to take a serious look into the matter. From his childhood antics of catching her leg as she walked around the house, asking in his sweet voice 'have you heard of our lord and saviour Zeon?', to his heated discussions with his 'company' of fellow militia volunteers.
Sitting there in her living room over the past few days, Huu preaching to his fellow cadets. About the need to move into space, to live on orbital colonies, free of the confines of gravity. A gravity that did nothing but weigh down the souls of mankind and drive them to war.
It was insane, demanded infrastructure that had never been present in the Federated Suns, and was, at its core, an ideology that did not take into account the physical realities of the universe in which they lived.
But, and this was the big but here, they believed.
He believed.
And after merely a few months as a cadet, he had managed to convert a sizeable crowd… and was now bringing these people to her home. To make their dreams of space-living a reality.
In other words, he had formed a cult.
"Of course we do. Contolism, the words of our Lord and Saviour, Zeon Zum Deikun, are serious words. To reach into the stars and make them our homes, to cease this conflict over our worlds, to live free of Gravity, the murderous hatred that drives us to war! This is not a cult, a cult is a group that exploits its members for selfish needs. Contolism is about reaching the stars, to evolve ourselves as a species! We do this for the betterment of all!" His eyes were blazing, his hand clenched into a fist and raised up high.
She sighed.
"And how exactly are you planning to achieve this goal, Huu?" If it were a cult, he was probably planning on fleecing the idiots around him of their money, moving to a compound in the middle of nowhere, and she would find out, in a few months, that everyone had killed themselves. Especially with the wave of nihilism that was spreading from the Free Worlds League. The Way of Arme, that proselytised death as being the natural way of reaching nirvana. It's leader, having seized control of a broadcasting station for the planet Marcus, preached to hundreds of millions, before killing himself as proof of his belief. It had spread despite official condemnation, and was making its way into other Successor States.
She was expecting the exact same thing to happen with her son.
After all, how exactly did one build an orbital colony with the technology that they currently had?
Madeleine knew it was impossible. The sketched-designs he had in his room of his 'Mobile Suits' were impossible. Where were the myomers? What was a Minovsky hydraulic control? What was this beam saber? All these small factors that you would have in a fictional universe. Not this... cult.
Or, rather, was it essentially Scientology again? They had been purged from the Federated Suns once they attempted to blackmail the Ministry of Ways and Means to make them tax-exempt as a religion. When that had failed and they had been sanctioned, the Scientologists had tried to infiltrate the structure to physically erase their records. Instead, they had been met with fire and death for being so brazen that they had attacked the Ministry building on New Avalon. The entire cult wiped out... but surprisingly, it was thriving in the Combine.
Was her son doing the same with his ideas? Writing a fictional story and convincing people that it was a rational belief system to follow?
The thoughts ran themselves in circles.
The situation had gotten serious enough that it wasn't some kind of fictional story enjoyed by a small circle of friends anymore, and she could not treat it as such.
"Don't worry mom. We're planning on solving the money issue with our next project! We're building an Ultracompact Fusion Reactor!"
…
Madeleine reached out to touch the back of her hand to his forehead.
"I don't have a fever, mom! We're actually working on it now! We have the plans ready and everything for it! Trust me." His eyes were filled with conviction. Conviction, she would later ruminate, was great… yet terrible. His desire to reach the stars above all else was near all-consuming. Part of his childhood for almost as long as he could talk.
There had been a period where she had worried incessantly. Panicked over how he had become... depressed for years. Three of them, in fact, unable to find joy, looking permanently sad. Every now and again, tears would drip from his eyes. She had been beside herself in those early years until he had changed, seemingly overnight. Waking up on their dropship in-transit through the Draconis March, he had pronounced to her, in the most serious voice an eight year old could, that he would save the galaxy.
Eleven years later, at 19 years of age, and his determination had never faltered... even if it resulted in his creation of a cult. Pursuing his stated goal with such conviction, that she couldn't help but think it was possible. Only for the realist in her to smack her upside the head and remind her, that if it were so easy, everyone would have done it by now.
"Plans? Can I see these plans?" She finally said after thinking about it.
He grinned widely at her, "follow me mom, I'll show you all that we've been working on!"
+Break+
Huu showed his mother his plans.
The first of which was the Ultracompact Fusion Reactor. Years of research had gone into this. Years during which he had spent all of his time studying, writing, researching, all of it to generate 'research points' for the Academic System. Research points he used to redeem for small parts of the overall theory of Minovsky particles.
Each time he completed a research paper, he had earned Research Points. Humanities, Scientific, Mathematics, all of it added up over time as his knowledge of Minovsky Particles increased.
Each step building on the one before it, until the point where he was now, someone who was, in other words, ready to take the first major step forward. The one that would be able to make all of this a reality. The Ultracompact Fusion Reactor, from a different universe entirely, and yet, according to the Academic System, a prerequisite on the journey.
The first step of his dream, an aimless teenager in his first life, he had been reborn into Side 3. A collection of colonies that had declared its independence from Earth. Weaned on a diet of Contolism as a child, the impressionable teenager had developed into a firm believer. One that had been swept up into the storm that was the Principality of Zeon and the One-Year War.
As a child of the colonies, of course, he had signed up when word had gone out they needed recruits. Training, then deploying, never one to be considered more than competent, he could never reach the custom status of the Aces. And yet, he had participated in the operations... in the opening battles of the One-Week War as it was called, Operation British...
That had been when the whisper in the back of his head and made itself known.
'This is not Contolism, this is not the path Zeon wanted. This is a betrayal.'
As the enormous O'Neill Cylinder accelerated its drives to breach orbit above Jaburo... only to split and land on Sydney, Australia. Huu could only watch on in horror. He had done this. Even though he hadn't gassed the people in the colony, even though he hadn't activated its drive systems... he had not stopped it either. He had been part of this, he had done this. With the Colony missing Jaburo entirely, the entire point of the colony drop... Operation British... the billions of dead from the direct impact, the tsunamis, and then the artificial winter from the debris that wiped out most of Australia's population... pointless.
The whisper was suppressed, they were winning, Operation British was a failure, but they wiped out Earth's fleet later! Just a few more sacrifices, and they would have the future that had been promised, he told himself. The whisper in the back of his head whispering uneasy truths the entire time.
Yet, the voice became louder as the conflict escalated. A third of all mankind was dead by the time of the Antarctic Treaty.
The whisper was now a murmur. He knew where this was going, knew the real life parallels. Had known, in the back of his mind, since the very beginning. If they could not secure a victory within a few weeks, then what chance did they have? Such a small population against the vast industrial base of Earth?
No matter how much they pushed, without a singularly decisive battle... there would be no victory. The great numbers, the greater industrial base, the sheer quantity of ships and Mobile Suits would crush them in a long, grinding war.
Victory would, as ever, slip further and further out of their grasp.
But the dream could not die, if there was ever a single glimmer of hope, he had to fight for a mankind of the future. Of a people who were so connected through thought and words, they could never ever wage war ever again.
And so he fought. And fought. And fought.
The invasion of Earth, Operation Odessa, Solomon, A Baoa Qu... and it was at that last one that he died.
For a dream that had been dead from the moment the war started, for an image of the future that would never appear. He had been wilfully ignorant, unwilling to admit the truth, to tell those close to him 'no'. He had been weak, of mind and will, innocents had paid the price.
Having been complicit in the worst crimes that had ever been committed. Billions dead through his actions, through his inaction.
No, the dream was dead. He had too much blood on his hands to ever find forgiveness. The guilt would eat him alive. Better to die in battle, protecting the beautiful corpse of Contolism.
His first life had not prepared him for this, his second life was simply a journey of disappointment, understanding he had failed, constantly failing.
Honestly, that death, facing the Federation Mobile Suits, the RGM-79 as it pressed a beam saber into his Gelgoog's cockpit was more of a relief than anything else.
Which, was, of course, when he had been reborn for the third time.
As an infant.
To a parent in a universe he knew nothing of. To a single mother who had taken him across the galaxy on her trips. One who showed him great affection, true… but also showed a universe wracked by war. These Earthnoids, had, in spreading out to yet more planets, spread mankind's hate throughout the stars.
He had been to Kentares, had been to worlds wracked with devastation far beyond what Operation British had even tried. The sheer amount of death, destruction... annihilation.
"I am in hell." The 5 year old him had told his mother. She, no doubt, thought it was some kind of joke.
It hadn't been.
He had been entirely serious.
The next 3 years had been filled with the knowledge that he was being punished. For betraying the ideals of Contolism, he had been punished with mere existence in this hellscape of a reality. Knowing this was a realm of death and destruction, even as mankind spread out into the stars, they brought with them unending war. The dream had died, Zeon's vision unfulfilled.
It was his mother that had broken him out of his melancholy, nigh depression. Outlining how she was working to improve the lives of the people around her. Trying to make the world a better place. Her job of connecting people with telecommunications, of trying to ease the lives of those around her. In her small way, she was improving the world around her.
He had taken inspiration from this, had taken this to heart, truly looked at the people around him and decided, then and there. This may be hell. But this was his hell, and he would make it better or die trying.
For all in this hellscape were weighed down by the gravity of their hearts and Huu vowed, at the age of 8, he would bring about Zeon's dream in this new world. He would bring about a peace brought through communication and empathy for all who lived in space.
To atone for his crimes, that weighed on him even now, he would atone.
For every person, he had killed by being part of Operation British, he would save 10.
To fulfil the dream of Contolism, Zeon Zum Deikun's vision would be made into reality.
By living in space, by being born in space, being surrounded by the universe. Mankind would evolve into newtypes, would become a race of unparalleled sensitivity and understanding.
This new humanity would be a people of the stars, without war, without conflict.
He would atone for his crimes by bringing mankind into space, to bring about the dream he had betrayed in his second life.
And this was the first, true step in atoning for those crimes, gathering like minded people (cult? ha, they weren't a cult!) to build the Ultracompact Fusion Reactor, the first fusion reactor that had been earned through thousands of academic posts. Anything of academic value counted for Research Points, but they did change depending on what it was. Explaining why the Atlas was an objectively terrible Mobile Suit in an online forum, was inherently worth less than a research paper exploring a new type of fusion reactor that did not use the Kearny-Fuchida principles.
In the same manner, a research paper was worth less than a practical, worked example.
With this, he would have enough points to learn the side-research tree of the basic Mobile Suit from Gundam Wing. The open-faced industrial suits used to build the colonies. To provide enough funds to continue his research, to earn enough points to acquire the blueprints of a Minovsky Reactor.
Every single step being one that was to drive him forward, to that goal, that singular goal at the end of which he would find atonement for his crimes.
"This is the Ultracompact Fusion Reactor! It's something that doesn't use standard Fusion Reactor dynamics. The power draw is configurable as well! I've got the research papers for it in the public domain since nobody wants to publish it. But! But when this works. They will see, they will all see!" His voice was filled with jubilation as he led her into his study. Where he wrote his papers, argued online, spoke of the Contolism in video broadcasts to those that were receptive to his message.
There were many of them on Diboll alone. Which made sense, everyone who was halfway intelligent could see the truth of Contolism. Of how being bound by a planet's gravity had led to the destruction of so much of the human race. Honestly, he was gratified that the message had reached such willing ears here, compared to the naysayers in the Federation and the other Sides.
"Huu, I'm going to be honest and say I do not know if this will work or not. However, have you checked with fusion engineers about the viability of this design?" His mother doubted him.
Which, really, wasn't a surprise. It wasn't as if this were something explored prior by others in this reality. Why build new fusion reactor design when old do trick? But, if she thought this Hydrogen fusion reactor was a shock, the Minovsky Reactors which used an isotope of Helium... well, that would be an even bigger shock, he could guarantee that!
"Of course not. Who would even be qualified to comment on this design? It's been designed from first principles!" Huu felt indignant. This was produced through years of effort. Arguing with low effort trolls, convincing them that Battlemechs were worthless compared to Mobile Suits, always getting banned from forums. Trying to grind out his research points.
Trying to get published in a university journal, only for them to reject him for being 'unable to provide a foundation for his arguments'.
Trying to get published in sociology journals, only for them to reject Contolism as a cult.
Even the shit journals that you could pay to publish any articles rejected his work as being too unbelievable.
In doing so, his path to efficiently grinding out RP was blocked. The more eyes on his work, the more RP he got.
His friends therefor, as he cultivated them over time, were the best way for him to grind. Gathering more of them by talking of Contolism, of the prophet Zeon.
And now, their faith in him would be rewarded, his trust in them validated.
"Are any of your... actually, please, wait for a few weeks. I can get into contact with an old friend, they will be able to supervise in case anything goes wrong." She finally said, looking interested in the work he had done, as she should.
"Okay mom, I trust you. Bring your friend, and I'll show them a new world, a new technology. New frontiers!"
From the materials needed for the reactor, to the materials inside, he had prepared everything. That none of it was accepted for publication because he didn't have a degree? Hah! He would show them all!
As his mother turned away to type at her computer, he grinned. Soon, soon he would be able to leave Diboll, and take his place. To return to the one place that gravity had not corrupted...
Space!
+Break+
Madeleine Theberge sat at her desk, fingers typing away at her computer.
*Report, Cult Leader. Threat level yellow. Identify… Huu Theberge. Son of Madeleine Theberge. Father, unknown. Cult purpose, to build a space colony and move into the structure. Cult, has proceeded over the period of a week to collect materials to begin construction of a first-principles Fusion Engine.
Agent Iceburg requesting presence of fusion technician rated engineer for potential Kearny-Fuchida event. Cult leader attempting to construct fusion reactor on new-principles. Possibility of success... moderate.
Request; urgent.
Report signed by Iceberg, MI3*
Now she was going to send it out by dropbox from Diboll HPG. Hopefully, whoever they sent would be able to figure out if the design would explode... and convince her son's cult members to back away if they refused and forged ahead anyway. Maybe she should get MIIO in on this and get them all arrested. A few days in a holding cell should calm them down a bit.
Yet, there was a voice at the back of her head telling her, 'this looks like it could work. He's thought of everything. The notations, the scale, all of it'.
His research, his work... it had convinced her. Even if she wasn't wholly convinced, it was much better than nothing. None of it was reputably published, but what kind of mother would she be if she didn't at least see this through? And if it were a giant mess, she would have an expert on hand (and armed guards) to prevent things going out of control.
Seriously, this Contolism business, how did he even find out about it?
If she ever found out whoever this Zeon was that convinced her son to become... some kind of Cult Leader, especially an 8 year old boy, she was going to make their ends... very painful.
It had been eleven years, but she held hope she could find the bastard.
Still, what kind of name was Zeon Zum Deikun anyway?
Last edited: Sep 5, 2022
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Tamarind
Sep 5, 2022
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Threadmarks 002. MIIO Arrive, Reactions. New
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Tamarind
Sep 6, 2022
#126
February 27, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
"Conflict is brought about due to miscommunication. A lack of ability to communicate with one another is why we are at war now." Huu Theberge's voice filled the room from the recorded speech.
"Bullshit, everyone with even half an education knows basic Star League English."
"Our detractors will tell us that everyone knows English. Yet, is it truly communication if we cannot understand one another? Hiding behind words, unable to truly share meaning. This weakness is holding us back, preventing us from reaching our true potential. For it is only by moving to space, that we can become newtypes. It is only by becoming newtypes, that we can communicate with our minds, to share our inner thoughts, our greatest fears, our greatest desires. What conflict can there be when we understand one another on a level so deep that we share their very thoughts with our own? To reach this state, we must travel to the stars, to make them our homes!"
"Fuck'n hell, the lad is missing half a baguette isn't he? Understanding people is how wars get started, hello!?" The same voice as before cut in, his deep growl filled with sheer incomprehension. Likely a result of the laughter from the other two in the room.
Sitting in the room by Madeleine Theberge's side was Sahel Wildenberg, MI2, Analysis and Speculation. As they watched the latest of her son's… sermons, or perhaps, speeches? Not ranting. There was a distinct lack of frothing at the mouth and spittle flying all over the crowd. Madeleine could only shake her head in response to Sahel. Family friend… sort of. In the area, and couldn't help himself from dropping by. Never one to avoid a situation if he could make it worse, that was Sahel.
"Shut up and eat a pickled herring Sahel. At least he isn't killing people for sport or calling for the annihilation of all life, like some other cultists." She muttered irritably.
"Pickled herring? I've told you a million times, woman, I am Dutch! It is the filthy swedes and finns that eat pickled herring!" His indignation was a balm to her soul as they both settled down to watch the rest of the sermon.
Perhaps it was her wilful disbelief that he would do such a thing, perhaps it was the firm belief that it was the whimsy of a child. But she had not been able to realise that this was the case, had not been able to determine just how greatly she had failed her son.
"We are children of Earth, this is true. But like all children, when we are ready to leave the embrace of the earth, to leave our childhood homes. What have we done? Instead of stepping into the greatness of space, to embed ourselves in the bosom of the universe, we instead found new Earths to make like our homes, never maturing, never growing!"
But. A voice in the back of her head whispered, could she have been able to change his mind? He had been set on this since he was 8, this story of his that had been fleshed out, only grew and grew until he was here now. Preaching to an enormous (for him) crowd. A packed room filled with roughly 100 people.
10 of which were Ministry of Intelligence, Information, and Operations (MIIO).
The difference between the Department of Military Intelligence and MIIO was that DMI was focused on external threats over all else. MIIO was focused on internal issues. The two had separate focuses and would rarely ever overlap… save for MI3, which often cooperated with MIIO's subdivision of Information-Gathering services.
"The very first virgin world we landed upon we renamed New Earth! We had not left our primitive states of mind. Even now, we have not evolved, we have not developed. Stagnating as a species. Content to evolve worlds to meet our standards, and yet failing to evolve ourselves. When the first succession war ended, there were no more colonies! We cut them down and in doing so, cut down the future! No more, I say! To become a new humanity, we must step fully into the stars, to live amongst the cosmic song of the universe. To evolve into newtypes, to become more, to reach the full potential that we were blessed with by the universe!"
It was through this link that Madeleine had been able to get the Bureau of Internal Investigation involved. A subsidiary of MIIO, Madeleine had sent a message through MIIO-IGS which was picked up by MIIO-BII, and they had sent their own investigators to keep an eye on the situation. She also took back what she said about the ranting. He was looking rather worked up in the recording.
A cult was usually something MIIO would keep an eye on anyway.
A cult with grand designs to build a fusion reactor?
Well, that demanded boots on the ground, to make sure that they weren't planning on building some kind of fusion-bomb with the aim to kill millions of people in a murder-suicide of epic proportions.
Which was why she was here, now, with Sahel and Martin. Watching the recording before, the MIIO members came back from the same meeting in which this recording had taken place. They needed to talk about it.
"Anyone else and you would have shot them." Came the murmur from Sahel.
Madeleine shot a glare at him. "No I wouldn't. He's a Federated Suns citizen inside of the Federated Suns. We only deal with external threats."
"Right, and if he had been in the Draconis Combine, we would have used him to set up a self-destructing cult. If he was trying to get into the Federated Suns, we would have shot him on sight. Admit it, you've gotten soft." Sahel's voice was patronising.
Lieutenant Iceberg shoved an elbow into his gut.
"He's non-violent, non-insurrectional, non-dangerous. He is not a threat, son or not, he does not meet the eliminate on sight criteria." Her voice was cold.
Sahel wriggled his eyebrows at her.
"But it took you this long to report him to MIIO and DMI. Face it, you're not where you were."
Madeleine continued to glare at Sahel. Both of them veterans of MI6, the Rabid Foxes. The Terrorists of the Federated Suns. At any one time, there were 500 of them on active duty in the Inner Sphere. Committing whatever acts were necessary to keep the Federated Suns safe in the Inner Sphere. Focusing their operations in the Capellan Confederation and Draconis Combine with direct action operations.
Both had retired after their bodies were unable to keep up with the demands of combat operations. War fighting was a young man's game, unless you were a Mechwarrior, in which case you got to sit in a comfy chair and lord it over the peasants. Your command throne also meant you weren't tearing your tendons or spraining your joints like the mortals who had to walk on their own two legs.
After their service, the three had split ways, the surviving members of their team.
Madeleine to MI3, indulging her love of travel.
Sahel to MI2.
And behind them, Martin Blek to MI5 in a training role.
Also, an accredited fusion reactor engineer. For who better to sabotage fusion reactors than someone trained in their operation and design?
"I would be worried if she was the same as we were twenty years ago. I would ask where she managed to exercise enough to stay fit, how she's keeping her edge. Is she hunting civilians for sport, I would ask myself. It is a good thing, then, that she is a little softer, no?" Martin spoke, his voice filled with humour.
"And it's a good thing you were in the next system over huh? Coincidence maybe?" Asked Sahal with a grin.
"Of course not, him being there was the entire reason I sent out the message. Who better to know how a fusion reactor will fail than someone who spent their time rigging them to do so?" Madeleine said, a grin on her face. Sahel, frowning at her rejoinder.
"Ah, mon cheri, I am glad you were the one who sent the message. If you hadn't I would ask if we were still friends. Am I not the godfather of your son? Such a momentous event, for him to come to the attention of MI Command, only the greatest no?"
"Yes. Everyone wants to come to Military Intelligence attention, naturally. Anyway, back to the topic. The design that they've set out in front of you. Will it work?" Madeleine tapped her foot, interested in the answer, unbearably so. Was he insane, or was he a genius? There was a thin line between the two, as any Federated Suns citizen knew.
Sahel interrupted, as he always did, the ass, "of course it won't work. None of it looks like something that anyone sane could manage. The entire design uses hydrogen, for Christ's sake. What kind of fusion engine does that?"
"One that is designed from first principles. I can see how it can work", Martin continued, unfazed as he was by years of Sahel… being Sahel, "The reaction chamber with its magnetic core does look like it could work. It's similar to standard designs. Where it differs is the containment shielding and the reaction materials. I can see the rough idea from my training, but I must ask if there have been any prototypes before this point. There is too much unknown for me to make a judgement."
Madeleine shook her head.
"He's been apparently working on it while at boot camp and on militia deployment, only rough sketches. If you're wondering why I hadn't reported it further, this is why. It's the first practical demonstration he's shown that aren't just sketch drawings." She directed their attention at the photographs of the sketches and writings her son had created. MIIO had pulled them out, taken their photos, and put them back in the exact places they had started out.
Not a single speck of dust out of place. Even though Huu had been there in the room with them, they prided themselves on their professionalism and skills. The situation had been explained to him (Madeleine, uncle Martin, and creepy weird Sahel's roles were still secret), and Huu had been enthusiastic about cooperation. Perhaps he thought of them as potential converts.
The copies were spread out across the table, the three could see the slow transition of ideas. From his writings at 8, scribbled in unsteady handwriting. Of how he had spoken of the tyranny of Earth, spread across the stars. Increasingly verbose and sophisticated as Earth was translated to planetary governments in general. A demonstration of his increasing maturity and understanding of stellar-politics. Throughout one thread reverberated, a desire to uplift mankind into the stars. Blinkers that focused his vision, no matter how outlandish his conclusions were.
Of technological concepts of crude IndustrialMechs, the words 'Mobile Suit' scribbled on them in the same childish hand. Lacking any weapons and human in shape, described as 'the future'. Over time, these too evolved. Made real through sophisticated and scaled drawings of their interiors, specifications, materials, tolerances and more. Enough for Madeleine to think they were production drawings and not flights of fancy, such was the level of detail and precision.
This Gelgoog on canvas so large it had to be hidden under his bed. One she avoided searching... because young men hid certain things under their beds, she understood. The canvas had painted in loving detailed, unit numbers, battle scarring, floating through space with a molten hole through its stomach. The cockpit location she recognised from other drawings (why was it there?), cored. Floating amidst a vast grave in space filled with multiple other designs, unknown ships, themselves also wrecks. Two conflicting design, a war of some kind.
It had been titled 'Death of a Dream'.
All of these had been seen as childish fancies. Unknown to Madeleine, he had started to hide the technical drawings from her eyes. She hadn't known just how much he had done, how far he had taken this. The research papers he had written, the small scale experiments he had conducted at the local machine shops. MIIO had cast hundreds of interviews in the last few weeks, all to learn more about this potential… child genius, or grown lunatic.
Bringing Huu in to raise 'concerns' that had rapidly escalated as he had shown considerable enthusiasm about sharing his data, his research. Walking them through it, the Contolism cultists being so cooperative it was actually worrying. The entire time explaining how his reactor would lead to a peaceful future for all. Explaining how he had done his research, drawn his designs in secret.
The small trips he had gone out with to meet his 'friends', instead spending time at machine shops, blacksmiths and more. Working to earn money, and spending time on their machines when not in use. All to test materials research, or to submit scientific papers with his part-time work through the HPG station.
How had she not known about the depths of his obsession?
The tens of thousands of hours he must have spent on this over the course of 9 years. Perhaps Sahel was right, perhaps she was going soft to not have noticed this.
"Don't hurt yourself over this, cheri. While you may be one of us, you are also a mother. You would not be so if you did not have your blind spots." Martin reassured her, hand on her shoulder.
"I am a mother, but I am also a soldier of the realm. I can't afford to have blind spots! Missing all of this isn't just a blindspot!" She growled.
"Correction, you are an agent of MI3. You're retired remember." Her friend reminded her.
"Yes, you got soft. Happens to all women… some men." Sahel added the last part… almost as an afterthought. He was also… a sort of friend. After spending years in the same unit. Committing the acts of terrorism as they had. As abrasive as he was, he was still counted as a… friend. If only because flinging shit at a wall will cause it to stick. All tempered with the knowledge, that if she had met him anywhere but the MI4 Covert Action pipeline, she would have kicked his teeth in, the misogynistic bastard.
"Right, let's wrap this up. MIIO will want to chat with Madeleine again about our junior cult leader. Charismatic bastard, isn't he? Makes me want to go to space and prance with the space whales."
The cult leader's mother rolled her eyes, yes, we all know he's an illegitimate child. It's not new knowledge.
"Wrap what up? We're already here." A knock and a fourth voice interjected from the other side of the room.
The three ex-rabid foxes, warned by the knock, didn't react violently. Instead, they turned baleful gazes on the interloper. As she walked in, a smile on her face, the three DMI agents consciously relaxed themselves from their ready poses.
"Hi guys, Agent Morrison, MIIO. I just arrived today. Just got put in charge of this whole show. I understand Ms Theberge is the one who called this in? Gotta say, whoever is running signals on Diboll better have a good fucking excuse for missing this. 23,572 messages from a single individual. Sure, they're from multiple accounts, but that's not an excuse. All of them relating to Contolism, Mobile Suits, plastic model kits, or New Kyoto female idol groups. What can I say, the boy's got a fetish and is loyal to it." The words spewed from her mouth as Morrison shook their hands, handing them folders and sitting down. Motioning for them to do the same.
"Anyway! Back to my point, whoever ran signals is going to get my boot up their assholes, so deep that it will poke where the diagnostic lights don't shine. They'll need a colonoscopy to get it out once I'm done. Because this? This should have been picked up years ago. Hundreds of messages whenever he lands in a new system. Just spewing out, from the same dropship a DMI agent is travelling on. Or from the same spaceport that a DMI agent has landed on. Or from the same, fucking hotel room that a DMI agent is staying in. All a little nonsensical, childish even at the beginning, but since we've got a practical result out of it, actual research data going back years. MIIO should have picked up on this within a year, not after 6. Something fuckey is going on here, and I'm not looking forward to reporting this up the chain. Anything to add, you Dimmies?" Morrison finally took a breath, the sucking sound of saliva being sucked back out of her mouth filling the room. The off handed insult bouncing off them with the experience of long practice.
"How exactly did he hide the more technical drawings… or the experiments?" Madeleine asked, how did she miss all of this, she wanted to ask instead.
"Asked him, interviewed him. Said he was doing it because he didn't want to worry you. Said you being a single mother had enough problems without him adding to it. Good kid you got there, if not for the… whole, uh, cult thing he's got going on. The fusion reactor design might balance that out, culty at night, scientist by day." The short, sharp reply was like a knife in her heart.
"Shiiit, he thought your sneaky installing of modems and routers was you scrounging for work? Does he know only rich people get to travel on jumpships? Are you sure this kid's smart, sounds like a dumb-" Sahel was cut off as Martin smacked him upside the head.
"Such are the costs of our duty to the realm. I ask if you have a child of your own… or if you have never had the chance." The engineer continued, voice placid.
"Fuck off Martin. Some of us have work to do. Just saying, the kid should have picked up on it."
"And I ask, if one grows up experiencing something, do we not question it? Consider it as normal? Are you truly one to ask this question?" Martin had a warning note in his voice now.
Morrison interjected, if only to bring down the tension. "Anyway, we've brought our fusion engineers along to double-check Agent Blek's work. We've had a look at the designs… but half of it is so alien we have no idea if it will work or not. Our designs use Kearny-Fuchida Hyperspace Principles, these Hydrogen based designs are going in an entirely different direction. Might as well be alien from what our experts tell me. At this point, we've just got to go forward with what we've got. We've secured an isolated plot to build the prototype. MIIO is footing the bill for this one, giving out rebates to the kids, on the condition we have observers and technicians on site. Should this work out, the Assistant Deputy Director will be alerted, and we'll escalate to the Regional Operation Director, and from them to the First Prince."
On one hand, Madeleine was glad that her son's actions would benefit the Suns, even if by accident on his crusade to the stars.
On the other, she was worried about the implications of an enormous increase in audience size for his crusade to the stars.
+Break+
March 12, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
System, how many research points do I need to research the Leo.
Huu asked of the Academic System. He needed a work Mobile Suit while he was building points for a full building sized Minovsky Reactor, then the Mobile Suit sized Minovsky Ultracompact Reactor and then, finally, the Zaku 1. Much easier to get the workhorse (according to the technology tree) Mobile Suit for cheap, instead of the millions he needed for a Zaku 1.
++ Host needs 12,928 Research Points. +
He let out a harsh sigh.
What's the best way to cut that price down System? If I want to build the colonies, I need to have some kind of industrial Mobile Suit that's protected. Especially in this hellscape of a purgatory, where opening an electronics shop might get you attacked. The original open-faced Mobile Workers that were part of the 'Wing' tech-tree weren't practical in light of this. He needed armour, no matter how light.
++ Host is reminded that Host can complete independent research tasks to uncover principles independently of System. Host will earn research points and automatically unlock completed research. ++
I know that System. I mean, what is the most efficient way to do that! Like, go for material science first and then electronics, or something else
++ System recommends completing the Tallgeese first in the technology tree. Alternatively, Hose can complete System assigned mission. Current timer at ~6 years, 189 days of non-completion~. ++
But it's not like anyone can use it System. It has 15gs of acceleration, even my Gelgoog didn't have that much thruster capability! How many test pilots did the designers go through before deciding to mothball it? And exactly how was he meant to publish on a scientific journal if none of the journals were accepting his submissions? Sure it gave 100,000 points… but if he couldn't publish, he wouldn't get the points would he!?
++ 8 pilots were killed in testing Host! System recommends Host find alternative test pilot for first test. System recommends Host continue trying. Perseverance is a very human trait, System approves. ++
…
Right, that's why he was willing to bypass the Tallgeese. He needed a valid and working machine. So that those that had placed their trust in him, would have validation of their belief. He couldn't just waste time on something that would kill every one of its non-enhanced pilots! Imagine it now, presenting it to Archduke Sandoval and finding out he had turned his organs to mush on the first trial run… ugh.
So, if he broke it down, 12,928 points was… 12,928 comments online. One point, per mildly informative comment.
Or 3,232 deeply informative comments with citations and lack of insults towards the other user's intelligence at 4 points each.
Or 2,155 informative essays submitted onto an academic focused forum for 6 points each.
Those were, of course, rough numbers. The number of views was not high… because there weren't that many people on Diboll to begin with. Not to mention, the forums he posted on would find themselves maxed in terms of eyeballs on his post in a matter of days anyway
He had no idea what the numbers would look like if he submitted to an actual scientific journal… and it was accepted. Eyes across the entire Federated Suns would see his writings. Not just his individual scientific research and experiment results (which had formed the majority of his research points until now), but also his writings on the human condition and Contolism. Imagine if millions could read his writings, how many would decide to join him in space? With such a perfect... system of thought, who wouldn't want to join? Besides his mother... and uncle Martin... and old man George next door... and the rest of the people in his neighborhood... of course.
Seriously, no idea at all.
He couldn't move to New Avalon or a capital world either, his followers were here! And, of course, his mother. She had worked herself to the bone to provide for him as a child. He couldn't just leave, family was just as important as his dream. For mankind was to become family in the future as they all became newtypes. If he abandoned his family here, what did it say about him?
And so, Huu grimly resolved himself to working with what he had. He would continue researching, continue writing, continue developing. Eventually, all would come to Diboll, and he wouldn't need to leave. He could provide for his mother at the same time as he provided for all of mankind! Double, no, quadruple the rewards for the same amount of effort!
Because only through work and effort, could the dream of Contolism be achieved.
But, if he worked towards the Tallgeese… what kind of an impact would that have on developing the Leo? It wasn't like he knew, he was raised in Zeon, ask him about the Zaku II and the Zaku I, and he could tell you everything. About something for an entirely different universe? How the hell could he tell you anything?
++ Tallgeese development will reduce cost of Leo to 0. Leo is a down-teched development from the Tallgeese. ++
…
Really? Wow… that's uh. That would be useful? Yeah. He should do that. Why the hell was the most impressive design first in the technology tree? Wasn't this like… the opposite of how things were meant to be? Who even did that? It's utterly stupid game design, wait. No, this wasn't World of Battlemechs.
This was real life.
How much to develop the Tallgeese again, System?
++ 8,261 Research Points. Host. 3,261 if Ultracompact Fusion Reactor test is successful. ++
That's right, 5000 research points for a successful prototype test. Concrete numbers for prototypes, variable numbers for publications.
Yes. His thoughts would be vindicated... and he would achieve the remaining 3,261 research points in a matter of hours once the news broke out. He was sure of it, his old research papers were still contained on the computer at home after all! And in a hole he had dug in the backyard... just in case.
It all depended on this upcoming test. All of his work in the last nine years, all of it for this singular moment. This spark of ignition on the bonfire he had prepared. To begin the spread of Contolism on a wider stage. The technology would serve as a means of raising funds, yes. But it would also be a concrete means by which to give him a voice, they would need to listen to the creator of the Ultracompact Fusion Reactor, and then the first Mobile Suits of the universe.
After all, he could build a colony, but what would be the point if none were willing to leave their worlds, behind? If none knew of his message, that there was the option to leave in the first place? To reject the press of gravity on their souls and take another step forward in the path of evolution. They needed to know before they could accept!
Yes.
This was the first step on the stairs to space.
Before him on video was the reactor. The design purchased with Research Points on the suggestion of the System. How else would he supply the Minovsky Reactors with the fuel they needed, the System had asked him.
After MIIO had provided the funding, the final, rare parts had been sourced. Their conditions were not onerous, for it would provide authenticity to the test. He would accept harsher terms if it meant he could spread the message of Contolism far and wide
All were standing two kilometres away from the sheltered reactor, the control console before him active.
"Test range is clear. Ultracompact Fusion Reactor test is live!" The Battlemechs and AFVs on the holographic map were patrolling the region, and for good reason. This represented a change of truly monumental proportions, all precautions must be taken to keep it safe.
For his dream would be vindicated this day!
Proving that it was real, physical, something that could be grasped with both hands! Proof to his followers, his brothers and sisters in mind.
"Activating the Ultracompact Fusion Reactor." His voice left his lips, sounding distant. As if it were from a great distance away.
And so it did. The hydrogen gas canister attached by a robotic arm. The system accepting the charge. A small burst of ignition from the initial release, enough to activate a small portion of the reactor, that then proceeded to roar to life. Devouring the fuel and creating Helium. The energy release enough to prove the validity of his design.
Yes
The beauty of the Ultracompact Fusion Reactor was that it could alter the power output depending on its settings and fuel. It was easy to create, cheap to source materials for, and could be spread throughout the poor regions in the Suns. The better their lives were, the more they would wish to join him in space, where their lives would be even better! Living through the next stage of human evolution.
The beauty of this situation was that Contolism had a source of funds. He had a source of legitimacy. Now, his papers wouldn't be rejected for having no basis. Was his reactor not a proof perfect case study? Let us see them deny him now! Read throughout the Suns, he would be reaping the research points to reach the Leo to build his colonies. And then the Minovsky Reactors, so he could be joined again with his beloved Gelgoog
Soon he would spread his message throughout the Inner Sphere, to all of human space.
He would be able to develop and build the Leo, Aries, and Tragos Mobile Suits. Perfect for industrial work. Designs that were also useless in this Inner Sphere, at 7 tons for the Leo alone, it was even lighter than a Locust. With armour made of titanium, and an inability to internally mount weapons. It was useless as a combat suit in this age of total, brutal war. Anyone who used one would be ineffective at best on the battlefield. Which meant his designs could only be used for what he intended them for, industrial purposes. With hydraulics instead of myomers, it wasn't compatible with any war machines of the known universe. Lighter than most IndustrialMech designs, it couldn't be refitted with modern designs for war. It was why he was so focused on the Leo, the perfect ambassador for his message of peace.
Mankind would join him in the stars, and peace would follow. Not in his lifetime perhaps, but once all of humanity were newtypes, telepathic, sharing an intimate connection beyond that which any human had ever experienced?
War would be a thing of the past.
For all would be enlightened.
Yes, thought Huu, things were coming up aces!
+Break+
March 28, 2990, New Avalon, Federated Suns, Coreward Combat Theatre, Crucis March
First Prince Andrew looked at the missive that had arrived per his hat as leader of MIIO.
"New Fusion Reactor Design. Undetectable by standard fusion reactor sensor systems. No KF Reaction detected. Recommend pursuing development. Designs 1000x cheaper than KF Fusion Reactors. Lacking defensive shielding and safeguards. Recommend pursuing development. Potential of undetectable (by KF sensors) tanks, battlemechs, Dropship and ASF possible. Recommend pursuing development. Request public reinforcement and support from AFFS, DMI, and MIIO elements. Situation high priority, Kearny-Fuchida mind present."
Reading it aloud, he looked at his nine year old son, Ian Davion.
"What do you think?" He asked
"Useful?"
"Yes. I do think that would be the case." It looked like he had a few calls to make, a mind on the same level as the men who created the first Fusion reactor… and discovered the possibility of Jumpship travel centuries before their time?
That was one mind that must be protected. Especially given how many had died over the course of the Succession Wars.
He would be interested in meeting such an individual, that was for certain.
Indeed, he would be very very interested indeed. Cheap fusion reactors... wouldn't that mean cheap Battlemechs? His father had died breaking the Mech Cabal, yes... but they still existed in spirit if not physical form. Mechwarriors who were given rights as Knights, landed nobles. Who, in turn, fought reforms with their whole being, often to the detriment of the Federated Suns. For their interests came first.
But cheap Battlemechs he could churn out by the thousand if these numbers were correct? What Mechwarrior Cabal? They would be drowned by his professional Battlemech forces, any attempt to oppose the First Prince would see them annihilated. What had happened to his father would never happen again, sparing his children and descendants. In one fell swoop, he had the potential to break the back of the Mechwarrior interest groups in the Federated Suns.
Yes... he would be very interested indeed in meeting this young man.
Last edited: Sep 6, 2022
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Tamarind
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Tamarind
Sep 7, 2022
#279
March 19, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
++ Experimental Activation of Prototype Ultracompact Fusion Reactor successful. Reward provided. 5000 research points awarded! Good work Host! ++
It had been a week of uninterrupted power generation.
The design was two metres tall, much larger than the standard Fusion reactor. The entire design running at minimal power and then cycling in and out as necessary to stress test the entire system. To prove it could handle, constant and variable power flows.
The stress tests had been successful, and he was here now, in front of the reactor. Running hot, the capacitors and sensors it was connected to monitored the power output. With approximately the same level of power as 200 rated fusion engine at maximum power, the design was an unmitigated success!
Already, there were those interested in purchasing it. Already, they were here, making noises about using it for civilian purposes.
Already, his message would be spreading throughout the realm, to fertile ears.
How did he know this? Because his research points had expanded like crazy, 5,192 points in the last week. His research papers were being read, his writings were being read. More in a week than he had in a year!
It was empirical evidence that he had succeeded, that his message was indeed spreading wildly.
So much so, that he had enough points to purchase the Tallgeese.
It's little icon and the small datasheet at its side flashing in his vision. That in turn then proceeded to light up. The tonnage, the armour, the basic backstory, all of it expanded dramatically.
So much so, in fact, that he was standing here now… eyes wide at what was before his eyes.
His greatest success, met with the sheer incomprehensibility of his next move. As a pilot, he hadn't exactly been there on the manufacturing lines for the Zakus and the Gelgoogs. Had not been the ones trying to set everything in motion.
Had not understood just how important it was to have orbital infrastructure if he wanted to build his Mobile Suits. Just the Tallgeese alone was demonstrating his… lacking ability.
For instance, Gundanium. Required to build the Tallgeese, as any other material would break under the strain that it was put under. The inner frame of the machine was made of the stuff. And while the armour may be made of titanium alloy, that didn't change the fact that it would never function without the most hideously bullshit of materials.
Gundanium Alloy.
The description read as so:
Gundanium is created through the most advanced refining, fusing, and deoxidising techniques, which are only possible in space. The complex formula was first called GND, short for Genetic on Universal Neutrally Different Alloy. Later, the suffix "-nium" was added to distinguish that alloy from other similar alloys that were being developed on Earth. Gundanium was still superior to the competition because of its zero-G creative process.
While it's called an "alloy", Gundanium contains many non-ferrous metals and non-analysed matter, meaning it is not a true metal. It is created in high-temperature plasma that can only form in zero-G. The compound is adjusted in nano-units, a process so precise that it can only be done in gravitationally stable Lagrange Points. The annealing process, which strengthens the alloy, is performed by electromagnetic waves from the sun. It is even rumoured that the nuclei of the atoms themselves are modified within the Gundanium alloy.
While many similar alloys were developed, no other compound is as immutable as Gundanium. The refinement process causes the alloy to become electrically neutral, making it ideal for use with Beam type weapons, and as armour, the material is almost entirely resistant to change. However, the extremely high cost of production makes it impractical for military use.
Some intelligence indicates that OZ scientists experimented with using Gundanium alloy in MS creation. The very existence of Gundanium was kept secret, perhaps because it was a possible secret weapon for OZ. The five scientists who left the Tallgeese project took with them the knowledge of Gundanium, allowing them to create the Gundams that would later be the bane of OZ.
The creation of the Gundams took decades of work behind closed doors, due in part to the slow process of manufacturing Gundanium. This is evidence of just how long a process, Operation Meter was, with the Gundams being created before their eventual pilots were even born.
This was brought to you by the Mobile Suit Gundam Wing Technical Manual; ISBN: 1931514992
In short, the entire process was insanity. The earth-bound processes were useless as well, since he didn't have them. Developed in parallel and used nowhere in the design, of course he didn't have them now. Either he would create the Gundanium himself, or the Tallgeese would never be built.
And yet, it was glorious, a machine designed for Spacenoids. To be created in space, to be used in space, to protect space.
Was there a more perfect machine?
He took back everything he said about it being a boondoggle.
It was perfect.
Too bad, he needed a colony to even dream of building it.
But the Leo? That design had lit up automatically, and he couldn't help but smile. The design… as well as all of its weapons were also unlocked. Nothing was new to him due to his materials research. He could even start the process of establishing a factory on-planet right now, even.
The perfect machine for him… except for.
Ah, the computer system. Dammit all, he needed to unlock that, since none of the computers he had worked with so far in this life… even worked the same as Mobile Suit computers. While both were big and bulky, the processes behind them were different indeed.
Less importantly, he didn't have the research for beam sabres. Which made sense, of course. They operated under different principles than Minovsky Particle Beam Weapons. Wing Beam Weapons, however… were uniquely bullshit.
Beam weapons are the most advanced weapons used by Mobile Suits. While beam weapons can be built for ordinary MS, they are especially powerful when made from Gundanium. The complex alloy allows charged particles to reach temperatures that would incinerate ordinary metals. The Buster Rifle, which Wing Gundam carries, charges all particles in a 150 metre radius, creating a maelstrom of hot plasma. The gun's convergence ring concentrates the energy into a single devastating beam capable of destroying a battleship in a single blast.
The Beam Sabres (including the Scythe and Glaive) use the same principle as long range beam weapons, only instead of projecting beams of charged energy, they contain the beam in a continuous arc, even underwater. The ionisation field surrounding the beam causes any matter it hits to become super-charged, effectively ripping it apart.
There is no armour capable of defending against beam weapons. The Gundanium alloy used in the Gundams' armour and the Planet Defensors of the Mercurius and Virgos is highly heat-resistant and virtually immune to corrosion, but it's still not immune to beam attacks. It does, however, create an "anti-field" that repels beam attacks to some degree, reducing the damage delivered, but not stopping it outright.
This was brought to you by the Mobile Suit Gundam Wing Technical Manual; ISBN: 1931514992
Insane, crazy… and importantly, not something he needed. Not something he should waste his research points on, for he did not need weapons. Contolism was an idea of peace, for was it not Zeon Zum Deikun that said "O people of space! Now is the time to awaken! To realise your latent potential! We are at the dawn of a transformation of mankind. A true enlightenment of the human race. And we may finally be poised, ready to transcend what has always been thought the impossible- infinite space, and time itself. This is no idle dream. To live in a new universe, man must transcend the psychological limitations of his old environment!"
Mankind would develop, evolve… peace. The beam weapons were useless to him.
And yet… did not Zeon himself create the Colonial Guard in response to the threats of the Federation?
He took in a deep breath.
How did he reconcile that? That Contolism was about the evolution of mankind into higher beings, transcending human flesh so that they might live in a utopia of their own making. Peace for all.
Contrasted with the reality of Zeon himself creating a guard force with weapons?
Contolism was an ideology, representing a dream for a better future for all. Could he sully that with… weapons? After what he had done?
After what he had participated in?
Some weapons. Some weapons, all for self-defence. They were to defend Zeon.
Until they had committed the worst atrocities in human history with those same self-defence weapons. Could he argue the same, now? Could he trust these hands of his with such a noble purpose?
Yet, here, before they had transcended their mortal flesh, they would need to defend themselves. For they were still mortal, still vulnerable… still human.
Perhaps that was the key.
Defence. To stay in their systems, never being the aggressor.
Never, would they fire the first shot. It would be a self-defence force and nothing else. Perhaps… perhaps that would be enough to keep his followers… his students safe. And to prevent his mind, his soul, condemning him for following the path of the Zabis. Would it be enough?
Or was this a step down the road that led to Operation British?
He did not know… but he must decide, for his own moral quandaries could not lead to the deaths of his students. The noble defence of Contolism, the brutal reality of war. Both were one and the same. How did he justify this to himself?
The word of Zeon would spread, mankind would ascend into the realm of thought, and if he had to make decisions he hated… was deeply uncomfortable with?
Huu would accept that. For he did not matter, this hellscape of a reality would be uplifted, regardless of the cost to himself. Whether he was sane at the end was another matter. But… he had been brought here for a reason, his sanity was but a small cost to pay for the spread of Contolism and the uplift of mankind. This was his redemption after all, he had decided that at 8 years of age... and he had never wavered.
"Brother Huu," the voice came from behind him, her husky voice interrupting his train of thought. His death-spiral of indecision.
Turning around, he saw the face of Henriette Beaulieu. Instead of her usual smile, however, there was a great deal of worry on her expression.
"Henriette, what is with this Brother nonsense? We aren't a cult! We are a gathering of those who share the same dream. Of reaching for the stars to achieve universal peace. Once we transcend our human flesh, we will become something entirely new. Contolism is just a sharing of ideals, values, principles. We are not a religion." Huu repeated himself again, Henriette for her part ignored his words, as so many of his followers did.
If he didn't know better, he would, indeed, say that they were a cult… but they weren't. They didn't fit the definition at all!
"Brother Huu, you must get into cover. You are in danger out here in the open. Many would seek to kill you, to deny your mind to the galaxy, to cut short your rise, here, now. We have prepared a defensive structure to keep you safe while you build your message-" She was cut off as he raised a hand.
"No. Never. Contolism is not an idea that is based on a single human being. Contolism is the natural growth of the human spirit, the human race. An understanding that we must go higher if we are to ever raise ourselves as human beings. There cannot be a single failure point, yes? There, cannot be a single failure point, a single thread to cut. The tale of Zeon must never be repeated! I've said this, many times, I do not understand why you refuse to accept it." Huu bulldozed over her. How many times now had he said the ideas of Contolism had to be spread by every member of the ideology? He was merely the deliverer of a message, he was not a prophet, not some kind of miracle worker.
If anything, he was a failure. How could, he, Huu Mitsugu, as a Shosa or rather, a Lieutenant Commander of the Zeon Space Attack force by the time of A Baoa Qu. Dare to even claim that he was a prophet of Contolism? After what he had done? The deaths he had caused, the sheer betrayal of the ideals he claimed himself a believer of? A simple Ensign might be able to say they were following orders, but himself?
No.
He was not worthy of being considered as a prophet. He was simply the messenger, these around him, they were the prophets, for they were infinitely more worthy of spreading the message than he was. The repentant was not the preacher.
Yet, they would not understand, would not listen. Of all the problems with his students of the words of their lord and saviour, Zeon, this was the greatest of them all.
"Henriette," he continued, hand on her shoulder, the other holding her hand, "you… you and all those of our small group are the leaders. You are the firebrands that spread the light to the further reaches of the stars. I have passed the message of Contolism to you from the lips of Zeon Zum Deikun. This is all that I am worthy of, I cannot be your prophet, I cannot be your focus. For if there is a single leader, and that leader dies. The dream will fade. This must never happen, do you understand? Never." Her eyes were wide, staring back into his. The brown, almost black, of his iris' were reflected in the clear windows of her soul, surrounded by their green ring. In them, he found a burning fire.
Yes. This was why he had spoken to her and those of her like. For in them burned an inner fire that would prevent a Zabi from rising up, taking Contolism and corrupting it into a disgusting morass as he had with Zeon's dream, the Republic of Zeon into the Principality of Zeon.
How he hated that name now, but never as much as he hated himself for following blindly, deeper and deeper into corruption. It had been obvious from the start, the name changing from Colonial Defence Force to Zeon Space Attack Force. How had he not realised?
They would learn to stand on their own feet, and spread the fire far and wide. For like a farmer scattering their seeds across a field, they accept some may be eaten by birds and feral beasts… but those that remained would grow strong and bear fruit. To never repeat his mistakes.
"Yes Brother! I understand, the dream will never die. I promise you this, the dream will never die!" Her fervent desire and conviction had Huu Theburge nodding.
Yes, with those like her, the dream would indeed never die. Should he leave this plane as Zeon had, he could trust those like Henriette to carry on the torch. To never let it go out due to a Zabi.
Turning away from Henriette, he slowly walked back to the command bunker.
Time to get some writing done, he needed to get the basic designs for the Leo out so that they could begin a prototype. These basic designs would also serve as research point vacuums to give him what he needed for the computers that ran the Leos. Publishing them now... the scientific journals should accept his submissions now, no? How else was he getting eyes on his work in such large numbers? Hmmm, the computers would need to be finished soon, they were crucial to Mobile Suit operations. The basic AI that allowed the user to program pre-set actions into it to be used in operations. Learning over time even. The control interfaces… hell, the computers themselves needed to be built from the ground up.
All of this would require work, his fingers did not ache. For he was a keyboard warrior by this point in his journey, writing challenges did not scare him anymore!
What did scare him was the lack of time. Henriette was not wrong, there would be people trying to kill him for this strategic advantage he had provided to the Federated Suns. He was not stupid, they would install them on planets to provide power. Power was energy, and energy was the main driver of human civilisation.
This would allow them to grow their populations, their industry… and likely lead to further and greater war.
Yet, the Contolist in him did not quiver in fear at this. For this increased industry meant they could build the colonies even faster. With the Leo after the research and production had been started? He would be able to begin the process even faster. This was the risk he had to take. For in doing this, he would earn the funds to take the third major step of his dream, to build a colony. Perhaps that was his answer, he was willing to do anything for Zeon... even build the industry necessary for war. He had said he was repentant... was he truly? The reincarnator had to ask himself, was he truly repentant if he was willing to do this?
And to make matters worse, deep in his soul, Huu wanted to once again stride forth inside a colony. To once again step foot on his homeland.
To go back, if for but a second, to how it had been. No matter the cost.
He truly was a monster, wasn't he?
+Break+
March 30, 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March
Agent Morrison and her senior agents were sat around a table with Lieutenants Theburge, Blek, and Wildenburg. It always amused her how the Department of Military Intelligence maintained a clear rank hierarchy, while the Ministry of Information Intelligence and Operations… did not. Another indication that while they performed largely the same roles, if in different parts of the galaxy, they were still so different.
"We've been speaking with our analysts and this is the report they've put together. I've combined it with the report that DMI has compiled. Ranked the scenarios of what kind of situation we're dealing with. From least likely to most likely." Once introductions were out of the way, she got started with the reason they were actually here. Out of habit, sucking in the saliva that was pooling on the right side of her mouth.
"The kid's crazy?" Wildenburg asked before being jabbed in the side with a harsh reminder of the consequences of insubordination by Theburge.
"That is ranked of middling possibility, actually. No, let's get started from the least likely."
A file was opened up in front of them, from the black hole that was her folder on Huu Theburge. She seriously had files on dukes that were smaller than this. Files on Archdukes that had less sub-files. This one was labelled 'Reincarnator'.
"Reincarnation is a pre-spaceflight genre popular in mass media before being revived in the 2800s in the Combine and subsequently the Suns in the 2950s. It depicts an individual dying and moving to another, often lower tech or less developed universe as an infant, proceeding to revolutionise technology and society."
The room didn't speak, yet the silence was just as damning as a series of condemnations.
A cough from one of her agents on the side. Irina Ulyanova, descended from refugees from the Confederation. Highly pragmatic if one were willing to stereotype her based on culture, and yet filled with whimsy.
"This was ruled out because while Huu Theburge does fit the prerequisite of great social and technological change as a result of their actions. He does not have a harem. No great combat capabilities either. Unlikely to be a reincarnation." Her voice was tinged with mild disappointment, as if the idea of him not being a reincarnation was the biggest issue.
"That's your prerequisite for ruling that out? Not that it's impossible, or something reasonable… but he doesn't have a harem? That describes nearly everyone in the Federated Suns, what kind of criteria are you even looking at here?" Wildenburg glared at them.
"In defence of agent Ulyanova, with the existence of Hyper-Space, we cannot rule out the supernatural force of soul incarnation, but as it has never panned out. Nor have we ever identified the physical presence of a soul, theology aside. We can safely ignore this as a concern… even if it may be true. It is not as if we have ever met one to confirm the criteria for identification, after all. Anyway, next! Insanity."
Lieutenant Theburge grimaced minutely.
As one who had been read… partially, into her files, Morrison knew that Theburge was the mother of the subject in question. One who had doted on him immensely, which likely had a part to play in why this was so rushed. With everyone rushing to get the groundwork handled now… before someone tried to kill or kidnap him. They hadn't had much time with just how short notice... all of this was.
"This one we ruled out. At no point have we been able to identify in the subject's history that he was ever not in control of his actions. While a legal definition and not a medical one, we can also rule out most medical ailments without deeper analysis. Our medical tech on-site has not been able to pick up induced insanity from neurological, bacterial, or viral vectors. Inherent genetic screening has not picked up any predispositions to hallucinations or insanity. We are as clear as we can be… with the technology we have." Morrison passed this one over with a dismissive flick. The sheer amount of experimentation they had done with the blood samples they received… unless there was Star League super-genetic-sequencers, they were pretty much clear on this one. The others nodding in response, it had been the first to be considered, the first to be dismissed.
"Next is that this is a fictional reality of some kind that Theburge is writing down. This is of middling possibility. Perhaps he's a bit of a genius… but he's also actually bringing the technology into existence through research, experimentation, and further research. He's dedicated enough to plan it out… but this focus on a singular goal as of the age of 8? That doesn't fit well with the idea of this being a grand fictional story. the ideas and themes are too mature for a child of eight, genius or not. But, again, still a possibility. It's too structured to not be based in some kind of reality."
"What do you mean too mature? Kids can watch war movies too, you know!" Wildenburg interjected.
Morrison shook her head, "mature as in requiring higher levels of cognitive thought such as evaluation, analysis and creation. These are typically not present in the mind of a child on a consistent basis until their teens. When their brains have developed. This has been known since the 2000s, with Bloom's Taxonomy as an example. Genius or not, basic biology is the limiting factor here."
He didn't even have the respect to look chastened.
The others remained quiet. They were here for the last theory, the most likely theory. The middling ones were out of the way… now… well, the worst possible scenario of the lot.
"Finally, the most likely theory judged by our analysts and DMI's own analysis team on Diboll. Setting it up, the year is 2825, a unit bearing insignia associated with the SLDR 331st Royal Battlemech Division, confirmed to have left on Aleksandr Kerensky's Exodus, attacked 4 Combine Worlds along the edge of their space. Starting from Svelvik and ending at Richmond. They were never seen again. Using SLDF tactics, they defeated every Combine unit before leaving. Their path, if it had continued. Would have taken them around the rim of known human space… into the Federated Suns. Many believed them to be the forerunners of Kerensky's exodus returning. But nothing of the sort has transpired in the 170 years since."
The room nodded.
All knew about this, the entire Inner Sphere knew about this. Of the Minnesota Tribe, here to save the Inner Sphere from itself.
The story, a whispered rumour, passed through the mouths of Combine citizens to the rest of the sphere. A desperate hope… that things may get better. That they would be liberated. Their hopes were never realised.
Irina took over from here, her voice filled with excitement.
"In our scenario, one of these unknowns, centuries later, comes across a five year old boy and regales him stories and videos. With myths and legends of the Principality of Zeon and the Earth Federation. Of the genocidal war they waged. Traumatising him for three entire years in the process." Theburge's (the mother) face tightened… and if Morrison could see her hands, they were likely clenched as well.
"But the boy is a genius, and after three years, decides that he will remake that failed society. Kerensky's failed society. This comes in the forms of him documenting everything he saw and heard. Preparing to solve the issues that led to the failure in the first place. The trauma manifests itself with him working from first principles to build up to this 'Zeonic' society with technology and social change in the form of a cult." Her voice a near whisper now, the Russian descended agent leaned over the table like an old god, delivering a terrible prophecy.
"The images he's drawn, from the age of 8, the writings, descriptions, everything has remained consistent. The same images, symbols, architecture, individuals, small craft. All of it is consistent from the very first illustrations to what he's doing now. The same writing, the same principles of Contolism, as he's named his cult. Or more likely, it's not his cult, but the Cult of this Zeon Zum Deikun, passed onto him by this unknown individual, or possibly group of individuals. The 331st fleeing after their religious leader was killed and their ideas perverted. The information we have, the story… all of it remains consistent no matter how we look at Theburge's work."
Theburge, the female one, not the cult one, spoke up. "I can confirm that, when he was 5, we did spend 6 months on the world of Niles. I was running operations at the time, and he was often left with other children in a kindergarten. There was… ample opportunity for this to have happened."
"In short, we had someone from this unknown SLDF group arrive into the Inner Sphere, carrying with them tales and recordings of the society that Kerensky's exodus had built. We have the basic outline of their designs, that Theburge is currently in the process of trying to recreate from scratch, as well as an understanding of how their history has progressed since they left the Inner Sphere." Ivana finished, eyes sparkling.
"Now I ask if this is a problem. The writings are not pleasant. Dropping colonies onto planets to wipe out 1/3rd of their populations. Wiping out entire civilian populations to obtain those colonies. It is like the Reunification War all over again. There is a total lack of hesitancy. They have moved into space, and have developed Battlemechs for space-combat, eschewing ASFs altogether. We are in a completely unknown… and dangerous situation. We must ask ourselves… what should we do now that we are in possession of this information?" For the first time, Blek spoke up. A small, stocky man, Morrison didn't discount him. Anyone with that much black on their record was dangerous.
"First Prince Peter spent his time trying to build up the Aerospace forces. Perhaps it's time we revisited that idea?"
"We need more dropships, if they drop a metal cylinder 10 kilometres long and two wide, there's nothing we have that could disintegrate that before it hit a planet."
"Listening posts, catch them before they arrive in the Suns!"
The suggestions shot out of the room, Morrison recording them as they arrived.
They needed to pass these through the HPGs back to New Avalon as soon as possible. The possibility was too real… and the consequences if they were caught unprepared would be horrific.
Especially this Federation and Zeon. It was a replay of the Reunification War all over again. Had Kerensky's Exodus forgotten the lessons of the Inner Sphere?
Would they repeat this again with the Combine and Commonwealth, treating them as the Suns had treated the Taurians?
There were thousands of 'Mobile Suits' in the Theburge's paintings and illustrations, all of them space capable… for one system. Just what kind of army would they arrive in the Inner Sphere with after 170 years to prepare?
A people with the arrogance of the Terran Hegemony, with the strength of the SLDF.
It was too horrifying to contemplate.
"If this is such a bombshell, why the hell did he just hand this all over?" Wildenburg finally spoke up.
"Maybe he is trying to prepare us for the Earth Federation's eventual return? They've even named themselves after Terra's original name, after all. There can be only goal with a name like that."
The room fell to a pondering silence.
It was all too possible they all concluded independently of one another.
And, well... he had spent the last several years of his life writing about it and posting it. It wasn't like he wasn't trying to get the message out there.
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Tamarind
Sep 7, 2022
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