KSGU:Volume 7 Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Part 1
The air was filled with the peculiar odor of paint and overheated wires, a stench unique to a military battleship where one would have no choice but to accept that he was in a sealed space. The liftgrip lined along the wall became a long and useless installation under gravity, and what was extended in front of Alberto’s eyes was a passage that was without any characteristic except for practical use. Alberto Vist was running down the passage, ignoring the bouncing of his loose flesh whenever his soles hit the floor and his struggling knees as he dashed down the long passage. He pushed aside the battleship crew on the passage, arrived at the T-junction where the wall stood in front of him, and saw the air lock of the mobile suit deck he was looking for.
He, who was so anxious that he was seemingly about to knock into the door panel, did not check the values of the pressure gauge as he pressed the opening switch. The wind that blew outside was proof that the air outside had moved into the mobile suit deck. At this point, the “Ra Cailum” was moving in a relatively low height, but the air pressure at 500m height was still a lot lower than the air pressure maintaining the inside of the ship. Alberto arrived at a corner of the mobile suit deck that could be called a large hollow cave, followed the narrow channel along the wall, poked his body out from the handrail and looked at the bow of the ship. The shutter linked to the catapult deck was completely opened merely moments ago, and the blunt heavy sounds caused by the metals stepping on the floor rang throughout as he saw an abnormally shaped uniformly black machine pass through the shutter.
The streamlined cold-looking machine had a mask that completely covered the profile of its face. The mechanics solders saw majestic sight of the golden shining horn at the top of the “Banshee”, and stopped whatever they were doing as they gave it a look of shock. The white machine of the “Unicorn” could be seen beside the “Banshee”, but this machine that had a horn too was slumped weakly and could only stand straight with the support of the “Banshee”. The left arm equipped with the shield was slumped limply while the muzzle of the beam Gatling was almost sticking to the ground.
As seen through the monitor on the bridge, the pitch black shiny armor of the “Banshee” showed no signs of any scars as compared to the “Unicorn” that had lost all life within. Alberto basked his face in the air filled with the stench of oil, stared at the white machine that was thoroughly stained in dust, and charged towards the mobile suit hangar located at the wall. He could see Bentner and his assistants, dressed in white clothes, on the gondola beside the hangar set aside temporarily for the “Banshee”s use as they worked on the observation equipment they brought into the ship.
The “Banshee” ignored the humans looking at it as it bent down like a human and let the “Unicorn” resting on its shoulders slump onto the deck. “How’s the situation?” Alberto panted as he got onto the gondola from the gap and asked Bentner, whose bald head turned around as he arched his back, saying,
“I should say that it’s more ideal than what we expected here. The adaptability the specimen showed with regards to the “Banshee” is rather flawless, and there’re no problems with the link with the NT-D.”
Albeto looked at the Newtype Research Facility Head who was sneering away and felt a sense of unease rather than relief. The backdoor left beforehand meant that the brainwashing was incomplete, and someone sent her in discreetly. “This is a case of being easier than it is. Perhaps Madam Martha’s values managed to provide an influence here.” While Bentner continued on, Alberto reached his hand for the elevator button of the gondola, and descended 10m while Bentner and his assistants hurriedly grabbed the handrail. Once the gondola stopped, he hopped onto the deck.
The “Banshee”s massive frame was headed towards the hangar as it moved its feet that were as large as an automobile. Alberto glanced aside at the abdomen that was approximately level with the 4th storey, and at that instant, recalled the face of the “specimen” inside the cockpit, and ran towards the “Unicorn” lying slumped on the deck. The mobile suit squad that was deployed to Dakar had already returned, and the deck hangar was already half-filled with landing crafts. Alberto told himself secretly to finish his own job before the ship crew and pilots calmed down. He darted around the feet of the “Jestas” that were giving off smoke caught from the fires, and crossed the deck together with his subordinates who were starting to gather around him. “WHAT’S GOING ON!?” However, an angry roar stopped him in his tracks.
“I just got blindsided by that black “Unicorn”! Call out the pilot! Who’s the one in charge here!?”
The pilot was stopped by the subordinates in black suits, but he still turned his furious stare at Alberto, who had an impression on his face. He spotted the machine, the “Delta Plus” that was lying on its back as it was being taken in after the assault of the “Banshee”, and faked a genuine smile as he answered, “My my, isn’t that Ensign Riddhe?”
“I heard that you died in battle on the “Nahel Argama”. It’s really great to see you safe and sound.”
The pilot widened his eyes and gave a startled look back at Alberto. “You’ Anaheim’s…” Riddhe Marcenas said, “I’m Alberto Vist of the Vist Foundation.” only to be interrupted by Alberto, who looked over the shoulder of his subordinate and stared right at the blond hair that looked agitated from the battlefield.
“I have to apologize to you for the inappropriate handling of the situation. The Foundation ordered the pilot of the “Banshee” to secure the “Unicorn” as a top priority mission.”
“The “Banshee”…you’re referring to that black “Unicorn”?”
“Exactly. Currently, it’s the RX-0 with the highest completion rate, and doesn’t have the excessive item of the Laplace Program. One can say it’s a mobile suit that’s purely designed to tackle Newtypes.” Riddhe gasped and pulled his lower jaw up, showing the guilt of a similar secret they shared. He, as the real son of Ronan Marcenas, was a hawk sent from the Settlement Issues Council, and Alberto understood this as well. Don’t let him get close—Alberto commanded with this expression and ignored the stare clinging onto him as he tried to turn away. “Oi, hold it! What authority do you people have…!” An angry voice followed, but Alberto shook him off by saying “Captain Bright understands.” And quickly approached the “Unicorn”.
There were burn marks all over the white machine as it was dyed a layer of black stain. A steamy hot wind blew at Alberto’s face as the latter arrived at its feet. The mechanics equipping with firefighting equipment were on standby around the machine in case a fire broke up. “Nobody’s to get close to it! That’s our Foundation’s property!” Alberto growled and put on the gloves his subordinates handed him as his moved through the crowd. As his subordinates scattered to prevent any of the ship crew from approaching, Alberto did not find as he brought his hand to touch the still-scalding “Unicorn”.
He climbed up the ladder his subordinate prepared and used the front armor at the waist as a footing and climbed to the cockpit hatch at the abdomen. The key of the “Laplace Box” Cardeas created, this pure white machine that bore the fate of the world—was finally in front of his sights. Alberto originally intended to use the “Ra Cailum” as the base for the search, but he never thought that he would be able to get his hands on the “Unicorn” right after he met the ship. He would not allow anyone else to interfere, and intended to immediately cut up the abdomen to extract the secrets of the “Box”. He used his gloved hand to touch his face that immediately felt feverish, stood beside the cockpit cover, and whispered to his subordinate that followed up, “Do it.” The subordinate nodded, opened the access hatch, and pulled the emergency lever. The sound of hot air being exhausted could be hoard, the cover that covered the torso to the abdomen was opened, and the rectangular cockpit hatch appeared in front of Alberto’s eyes.
The cockpit was still bright as it was function. Alberto waited for his subordinates to draw their automatic pistols, checked the situation inside the cockpit, nodded, and stepped into that cramped ball-shaped space. On the linear seat surrounded by the all-view monitor, one could see a pilot in his suit, lying limp on it.
Banagher Links—he muttered the name he could not shake off in his heart ever since he arrived onto Earth, and peered at the groggy face through the helmet. The swollen face looked like it was punched before; is it because he was exposed to the tremendous G-force? Alberto shook off this suspicion that suddenly appeared in his mind and looked around at the all-view monitor which displayed the scenery on the deck. There was nothing abnormal to note of, other than a few windows that were not functional. Alberto did not know the circumstances which led to the “Unicorn” taking part in the battle of Dakar, but since the NT-D was activated, there was a very high probability that new information was revealed. He brought his hand to the linear seat, stared at the monitors that were full of static noise, and then turned to look at the display board on the seat.
Alberto saw that on the 3 display boards, the middle one was showing the “La+” logo, and his heart immediately jumped. This was the thing, the Laplace Program that lit the way to the “Box”. Since the system was on standby, he would be able to retrieve the data just by operating on it. Is it an intermediate point here? Or is it going to reveal the location of the “Box” directly? he looked behind, checked that no one was peeping into the cockpit, and reached his trembling hand for the touch panel. at that moment, the sound of the power being shut off rang, and he was surrounded by darkness.
The all-view monitor images disappeared, showing the ball-shaped monitor panels. The “LA+” signal disappeared like an illusion. Alberto desperately activated the switches of the standby power, but no matter how he tried, there was no electricity, and the touch panel’s signal did not revert to its original state. Was the generator cables burnt off? He wiped his forehead that was sweating like rain, and as he reached his hand for the monitor beside the linear seat, he saw a white object flash by his sights.
“It’s useless there.”
From below the helmet visor, the whites of Banagher’s eyes appeared in the darkness, and his swollen face was distorted with a smile. The monitor did not shut off naturally, it was switched off—Alberto felt a chill in his mind as he understood this, and stared at the boy lying limp on the linear seat. The latter’s firm stare overlapped with Cardeas’ eyes, and Alberto felt the sweat on his body cool down.
