Difference between revisions of "KSGU:Volume 10 Epilogue"

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Latest revision as of 08:06, 30 June 2020


O this is the beast who does not exist.

They didn't know that, and in any case

--with its stance, its arched neck and easy grace,

the light of its limpid gaze --they could not resist

but loved it though, indeed, it was not. Yet since

they always gave it room, the pure beast persisted.

And in that loving space, clear and unfenced,

reared it's head freely and hardly needed...

to exist. They fed it not with grain nor chaff

but fortified and nourished it solely with

the notion that it might yet come to pass,

so that, at length, it grew a single shaft

upon it's brow and to a virgin came--

and dwelled in her and in her silvered glass.

Rainer Maria Rilke 'Die Sonette an Orpheus', Part 2, 4th poem

The tornado of noise filled the screen, and showed no signs of fading. All contact from the surrounding surveillance satellites of “Gryphios 2”, along with most cameras from the moon. More than half of the multi-screen monitors were covered with noise. It appeared that a massive surge of energy had turned into an electronic interference. There was nary a pause as some wireless noise flowered through the silent ‘Caucasus Forest’, passing through the ears of the men and women who were looking up at the screen with bated breath. “We have a report from Cheyenne Observatory. Confirming that laser has hit the target.” An operator called in, but there was no applause, no cheers. Martha, Bright, Aibres, everyone stared wordlessly at the noise tornado. It took them more than half a minute to accept the fact that it happened.

Finally, there was some semblance of recovery on the screen, and the mood in the control room suddenly turned tense. The observation camera kept correcting itself, depicting the target area, the shoal space region. Ronan unwittingly grabbed the railing, and stared at the space where the “Magallanica” should once stand. However, there was a faint mist-like light engulfing it. “Where’s the target?” Aibres’ voice came from the commander seat, and there was some tension between the operators.

“We can’t tell. There appears to be gas debris in the way.”

“Make it quick. Check from the moon and all the stationed troops at the various Sides. Nobody is allowed to enter or leave until we know what’s going on.”

His voice was lifeless and vague, and he gave Ronan a sheepish look, but the latter merely stared at the bluish white mist. Riddhe was once there—Ronan had the urge to grab Bright by the collar and ask about the details, but he had no courage to do it. His mouth and body could not move, and his mind had ceased all judgment, with intermittent urges to reproach himself. What am I doing? The Federation’s future…future? I sacrificed something that should remain in this world for the future?

“It is…over.”

Martha muttered, looking utterly dumbfounded. Bright, standing still, turned his head slightly towards Ronan with pity and fury. He too could not affirm the safety of the “Nahel Argama”, and could only anticipate at this point. Ronan immediately looked towards Bright, who turned his face aside, and thought he could only hope. However, he felt something strangely amiss about his own thoughts.

Wait─for what? There's no future here. Nothing would change no matter how long it too. Only the present world will flow, until death.

“To Earth…space…all the people in this world …”

While there was a little commotion amongst the operators, there was a fine female voice. Ronan’s hand on the railing shivered as he listened to the voice amidst the noise.

Martha and Bright lifted their heads in unison. The operators started to realize something, and looked around. The female voice continued on. “What’s going on?” Aibres stood from his seat, and the voice clearly stated a name.

“I am…Mineva Lao Zabi. I apologize for having to communicate in this manner.”

The voice that caused everyone present to freeze got clearer. There was a chaotic mood in the control room, the operators got to work, their heads moving frantically. Impossible, Ronan was unable to muster such a thought, and exerted strength right when he was about to collapse. Behind him, Aibres yelled, “Where’s it coming from!? Where’s the source!?” One operator had his hand on the communicator, and answered without turning back, “Not sure, but the voice is being broadcasted through various channels.”

“Civilian comms satellites have been hijacked too.”

“It seems the public comms have been hijacked too. Mineva Zabi is on TV…”

“Change the screen! Pinpoint the source─”

“Target spotted!”

The operator’s tone of voice changed, overpowering Aibres’ as it echoed through the room. Ronan and at least thirty others gasped as they stared at the monitor before them. The mist of light gradually dissipated, and there was a shadow beyond the blueish-white veil. There was a strange long and narrow ship, along with a massive revolving residential block tucked in the middle. There was no contrast to when it was last seen. It revealed its undamaged self, still alive, despite the colony laser creating a massive gas.

“Target’s still present! The “Magallanica” is present!”

The operator shrieked. The “Magallanica” showed countless warning lights amidst the dissipating mist, its snail-like appearance resembled a needle hill-like weapons pod on the screen. “It should have taken a direct hit…” Martha muttered as she stood still. Aibres’s hands on the panel did not move, and all breaths in the control room seemed to have vanished. Mineva’s voice was the only thing lingering. Bright then grabbed the headset monitors, and started to say something, but nobody was in the mood to stop him. The guards behind him stared at the screen flabbergasted, and Ronan’s eyes looked towards the “Magallanica” engulfed in the faint veil of light. It appeared to be no mere gaseous being. The rainbow veil flickered, covering the ark of Laplace ─

“What about the other units? There should be mobile suits and Base Jabber next to the “Magallanica”. Find them!”

Prompted by Bright’s commander-like present, there was a screen filled with flickering light. Ronan stared at the analysis footage that was quickly changing, and subconsciously sought out the Unicorn-Types, only to suddenly sense weakness in his knees. He tumbled over, and stared at the screen while holding himself up by the pillar. This is unsightly. Stand up. His sanity was telling him so, but his body ignored that plea. His hands were clasped together, and he did not hear the bellows roaring above his head.

I don’t care what happens now. As long as he’s alive, just make sure he lives, then─Ronan sensed his vision blurred, tears seeping from the eyes looking towards the floor, and pressed his clasped hands onto his forehead. Aibres and the others sounded increasingly erratic, Mineva’s voice became clearer, and the voice announcing the truth echoed in the control room. The voice and the prayer in his heart resonated, becoming tears that washed away the lies in his heart, and slipped down his cheeks.

“End this broadcast right now! Get the “General Revil” over there immediately!”

Martha’s shrill voice rang. It was too late however, for it seemed to be devoured by the roars everywhere, and disappeared without reaching anyone’s ears.

“I am the heir of the Zabis, who once led the Principality of Zeon. What I wish to say next has nothing to do with my heritage. Today, I have been notified of a secret about the Federation. As a fellow human, I wish to share this secret with everyone.”

The smoke stood in the vacuum, and beyond it, there was a light, either a rainbow, or the Northern lights. It seemingly flickered with Mineva’s voice, and the bridge window had a dreamlike glow.

It was no illusion however. The light was clearly flickering before the “Nahel Argama”, which was charging into the gas. Within the cocoon-like field was the distinct sight of the wrapped “Magallanica”. Otto got up from the captain seat, and stared at the ship being shown on the main monitor. The relative distance was approximately 150km. The fine details could not be seen, but looking at its silhouette, it did not appear to have taken much damage. It remained still, despite the surrounding debris atomized into plasma.

“This is unbelievable…the blast from the colony laser actually…”

Aaron uttered dumbfoundedly hile everyone on the bridge was looking intently. They witnessed an energy torrent with a diameter of 200km ravaging everything before their eyes, and anyone would have such a thought. Everyone would wonder if it was an illusion, or even doubt their survival, but since the ship was still moving, there was something they had to do. The ship slowed greatly, probably because they were wary of the reduced visibility caused by the gas. Upon realizing that, Otto yelled with an anxious voice, “Get the ship close!”

“Anyone available will do. Man the anti-air cameras. Search for the “Unicorn” and “Banshee” at all costs!”

There was no way anything would have happened to them if the “Magallanica” still existed. Surely they were around. Otto repeated to himself as he glared at the “Magallanica” glowing with the mist of light. The long ranged visuals were divided into multiple parts, the complex sensors began to scan. “They didn’t…disappear, right?” Micott asked. “Of course not!” Takuya answered, sounding somewhat miffed, but he immediately looked uneasy as he turned towards Aaron with a sceptical look.

Once their eyes met, Aaron looked down wordlessly. The pilots and the machines at the core of the psycofield might have─Otto recalled the words he just heard, and gritted his teeth, “We found something!” he heard the sensor operator, and widened his eyes.

“Looks like the “Banshee”! Above us, R 23 degrees!”

One of the scanned footage was enlarged, and positioned in the center of the main monitor. The lone horned machine drifted aimlessly, and was shown on the enlarged footage, causing tension in the somber mood. “This is the “Nahel Argama”, Romeo 008, Ensign Riddhe! Please respond!” Mihiro started to call out, and Zimmerman yelled, his back turned on her, “Where’s the “Unicorn”!?” . They checked the weapons pod, the docking bay, the radio tower-like bow, and once they got to the revolving residential block, there was a humanoid, “Found him!” the operator’s voice echoed.

“It’s the “Gundam”! The “Unicorn Gundam” is still there!”

The scan grid caught sight of a humanoid shadow, and it was enlarged in phases. The humanoid basked in the veil of light slowly appeared. When the “Gundam” silhouette with the V-shaped horn appeared, there was rapturous cheers, breaking the tense mood.

Takuya and Micott jumped, and embraced in midair. Mihiro too was smiling beneath her helmet “He’s actually alive…!” Zimmerman eked out these words as he smiled, “Get him back, hurry!” Liam ordered, sounded elated. Joyous cheers echoed throughout the bridge, and Otto relaxed as he sank into the captain’s seat. He was still alive. The beast of possibilities named the “Gundam” was drifting in the field of light it created. “It’s a miracle. This is truly a miracle…!” Aaron yelled as he grabbed Otto, and the latter emptied his mind as he looked up at the monitor.

This commotion might not have reached the “Unicorn Gundam”, for it remained still despite the “Nahel Argama” approaching it. The machine seemed to have expended all its strength as it remained in the light, its flickering silhouette seemingly blending into it. The eerie silence was as though nobody was piloting it, and Otto felt a sense of unease rising.

"When the Universal Century started, there was a Universal Century charter. This stone tablet is the foundation of the Federation, the cornerstone of the policies. I believe everyone knows this well. 96 years ago, this stone tablet was created in the Prime Minister residence of "Laplace", and was lost in a terrorist bombing."

The clear voice ruffled the sea of light, spreading in the waves of space. The waves became a prayer to reduce the century old curse, softening the hardened world, and spreading to every corner of the Earth Celestial Sphere.

Everyone was created by Man, and for Man─the Universal Century, the "Laplace Box", and this sea of light were all formed through the same reason. His eyes were purified by the rainbow color, and so too were the filth in his body and mind. Riddhe drifted in the sea of light he was a part of. The light borne from human hearts, the psycofield. It was different from the lights he saw on the battlefield. The light surrounding the "Banshee" was so warm, like being embraced in his mother's clutches, or sleeping in amniotic fluid, reminiscent of the original rest. Maybe I am waiting to be reborn, Riddhe thought. Riddhe Marcenas bore too heavy a burden, and could not resonate with the new world...

"This...this is fine, isn't it, dad…?"

Everything ended, and would start again. It was not something he could decide, nor something Banagher nor Mineva could decide. The psycofield of this massive scale could shield the "Magallanica" from the torrent of the colony laser, and it was achieved by the collective consciousness of the entire human race, including him. It was the result of 12 billion desiring for possibilities, gathered on the psycoframe...Riddhe wiped the tears from his eyes, and exhaled hot air, his blurred eyes looked towards the "Magallanica" once again. The massive ship was surrounded by the fading light, the massive mountain-like silhouette stood behind the "Banshee". Next to the mountain was the mobile suit, the source of the light, still drifting there.

12 billion existences gathered their consciousness upon the beast of possibilities─perhaps it was that moment that the "Unicorn Gundam" became the center of the world. Banagher, Riddhe wanted to call out, but he hesitated for some reason. "...Ensign Riddhe! Do you hear me!?" A voice had him looking forward. The direction of the signal was detected, and the screen automatically expanded, the "Nahel Argama" clearly seen. "Loud and clear. You alright?" Riddhe answered. "Thank goodness…!" Mihiro sounded really relieved, but her voice quickly changed to one of sternness.

"Please regroup with the "Nahel Argama". The Federation fleet has begun to move. The assumed objective is to reclaim the "Magallanica" and end the broadcast."

It was to be expected. The Federation government would never allow any uncertainty to threaten the world order. The "General Revil" too was probably off to attack, and the mobile suits on deck might be ready to sortie. How long can we last by ourselves?—Mineva's voice seemed to have faded into the background, and Riddhe responded to his own heart. He did not want that voice to be ended, "Understood." He answered, and pulled the joystick. "Please. An hour will do. Do not allow anyone to approach the "Magallanica". Another voice came through the wireless, and a new window was activated.

"I'll try to get my contacts in the Foundation to stop the attack. Hang on until I succeed."

A Base Jabber glided by the dissipating seat of light above. He's fine too…Riddhe heaved a small sigh of relief, "Can it work?" he asked. "Unlike you lot who can only fight, I have my ways." the dour reply clearly was just like Alberto, who gave this bemusing reply to hide his own sheepishness. Riddhe smiled as he saw the Base Jabber leave.

"The deadlock between Federation and the Foundation has been broken. The directors who only steer the rudder the face of life and death should probably be working extra hard now...aunt's authority is probably over."

Alberto quipped with some lingering bitterness, "Don't hang up on me." Riddhe realized the relationship between Alberto and Martha was difficult for any bystander to partake in, and sensed the weight of the matter was not limited only to 'family'. "Same goes for you." There was a sense of kindredness in his voice. "Ensign Riddhe, can you contact the "Unicorn"?"

“Banagher isn’t responding. Call out to him. Depending on how Mr Alberto’s negotiations go, we may have to prepare for combat.”

The captain's words of resolve caused his forgotten instincts as a soldier to start again. "Understood. I'll regroup with the "Unicorn"." RIddhe answered, and had the "Banshee" moved towards the "Unicorn Gundam" that was no further than 3km away.

He spotted the machine that remained lifeless for quite a while, and felt anxious again, but he yelled, "Hey Banagher!" The "Unicorn Gundam" did not move. Even though the "Banshee" hand touched its shoulder and started the induction circuit, the main camera did not respond to him. The vague hesitation became icy unease, and Riddhe moved the "Banshee" before the "Unicorn".

"Wake up Banagher! You're still alive. Everyone's waiting for you to go back. Get to the "Nahel Argama"—"

The "Unicorn Gundam" lifted its head and looked back, and all of Riddhe's words vanished. The relieved look on Riddhe's face immediately turned tense. Through the monitor, he could see the eyes give a faint glow. "Hey…" he eked a hoarse voice.

The dual eye cameras meant to imitate humans were the same as the "Banshee"...but, no, these were not machine eyes, and neither were they human. A certain massive existence was staring back. It was not Banagher, but Banagher was a part of it. The "Unicorn Gundam" was a life just borne, observing the human that had become a part of it.

"Banagher, you…"

The chilly easiness was swallowed by the gradually rising sense of loss. He was present, and yet not present—the only words that formed in his heart left Riddhe speechless as he floated in the sea of psycofield. The "Unicorn Gundam" did not continue to look at the backtracking "Banshee". It turned its head around, its face towards the void again. Its expression contained a rational sense beyond human as it kept observing the world around it, as though planning its next move.

"But the stone tablet was not lost. The replica is placed in Dakar Senate hall, and the original was hidden for a long time. Please look closely. Shown behind me is the one created on "Laplace", the true Universal Century Charter."

A hexagonal stone tablet appeared behind the tablet, and the camera zoomed towards it. It was a visual image of the actual item displayed in the cryo, but it was of sufficiently high definition to be expanded. The camera showed every angle of the stone tablet, displaying every single word carved onto the surface.

Everything was controlled by the remote on the podium, along with the headset equipped with the psycommu headset, which showed exactly what the speaker wanted. Mineva imagined 12 billion stares beyond the screen as she faced the camera before her, continuing her speech. There was no need to think. Everything that she saw and felt flowed unhindered as words. Perhaps a priestess chanting a prayer was in this mental state. Mineva knew very well that many involved with the "Box" were standing on this podium, led by Syam and Cardeas, supporting her—

"We shall secure this comms block. Please send 30 capable men from each department. We should be able to get the "Magallanica" running with these many people.

The Dead were not the only ones supporting her. She could hear Conroy contacting the "Nahel Argama" beneath her. Next to her was the deputy Garity, along with the 920 ECOAS members gathered behind them, each wielding light machine guns, dressed in spacesuits specifically designed for space camouflage. They would not fear a massive army invasion, and would probably stand their ground until the very end. Mineva felt that Conroy and the others were acting like her own escorts, and she looked forward at the screen depicting the outside. One could see Earth floating far away, along with the sea of rainbow light. The 'light' gathered the 'lights' in this space, along with the entire world, engulfing the "Magallanica".

"Once the "Nahel Argama" reaches us, we're going to station at the choke points where the enemy will attack. They're technically allies, but don't get careless. There's a future worth protecting. We need to believe that we're doing this for the world. Let's defend with all our might."

Conroy instructed, "Roger!" and the rest of the crew responded, their voices throbbing the sea of light. I know very well, Mineva muttered deep within her conscious that it probably was a 'light' lasting a moment, that it would not continue forever, and it would not reach anyone other than those actually involved. Did people not look forward to such a 'light' since ancient times? Even if they were not embodied by the psycoframe, the 'light' that formed from time to time could pull humanity from the brink of destruction, the abyss, and rewrote history. It was meaningless when blinking on its own, this temporal 'light'—would connect into the distant future, connecting and resonating far beyond the time. Mineva once again realized this was a moment that would become eternity, and she was part of it. However, she felt a gale of sadness, for the most important fragment was missing.

She turned her consciousness to a corner of the screen, the two mobile suits floating in the sea of light. It seemed Riddhe too had noticed, for the "Banshee" looked obviously perturbed when facing the "Unicorn Gundam". The machine was fine, the flesh remained, but the Banagher Links they knew of was no longer there. When the light of the colony laser engulfed him, Mineva sensed his life was taken by the 'light', the warmth from that warm hand taken away from his palm.

He did not die. Like many of the linger consciousness, they remained in the "Unicorn Gundam". However, they could not reach him. Banagher was in a place nobody could reach. The beast of possibilities was groomed by belief, and did not need a physical presence to exist. Perhaps he was an ethereal existence that did not need flesh. The understanding was so painful and bitter to Mineva, who wept quietly.

Tears flowed from her eyes without affecting her fluent speech, and the spotlight looked dim. Luckily for her, there was no gravity, and the tears floated, such that they could not be shown on camera when they dissipated. Mineva told herself that she could not tremble, and her teary eyes stared at the camera. "Ensign Riddhe? What's the matter? Get the "Unicorn" back to the ship, quickly." The voice rang away through the wireless.

"We noticed mobile suit squadrons coming from the "General Revil". There's lots of them."

"Banagher, get back to the shop now."

"It's too tough for you to lead the way, Banagher!"

"Everyone's waiting for you, Banagher."

Otto, Liam, Zimmerman and Micott called for him. Mineva resisted the urge to yell as she kept the "Unicorn Gundam" within a corner of her eyes. They were waiting with their arms spread wide, anxiously awaiting the return of their beloved beast. I will not allow you to say that you have no need to exist. You promised me that you will return no matter what. Come back, Banagher. We felt each other's warmth through that body of flesh.

There was no response. The "Unicorn Gundam", which remained as it was, silently lifted its head in the abyss of the psycofield where light barely shone through. The stone tablet showed her reflection and glowed like a silver mirror, and Mineva continued to weep silently.

"I suppose everyone knows now that the real Universal Century Charter has an additional chapter we did not know of. In future, if the existence of new space-adapting humans is confirmed, their inclusion in the running of the government is to be prioritized...this was added under the 'future' chapter."

Minerva continued her speech with the hexagonal stone tablet shining in the background. She did not remove her spacesuit, either because she had no time, or that she was concerned that the Zeon uniform she was wearing would leave too much of a first impression. Either way, she had her back turned on the stone tablet that was the Universal Century charter, and her presence as she 'spoke to the people' was one that never happened a century ago. Her words and tone contained a will no half-baked politician would match. It was as though the soul of Ricardo Marcenas resided in her.

The footage shown on the screen in the control room was not through a military comms, but through every civilian channel satellite. Every person could see and hear her. It was standard time, 1.30pm, and the world was still engaged, except for half of Earth still at night. For a century, they worked so hard to hide this secret, and yet there was a noontime soap opera broadcasted everywhere. There really was no better stage to unveil the "Box" to the entire world, and Ronan smiled wryly.

He did not stop thinking because of despair, nor was he sneering at himself after giving up. He had never felt so heartened for decades. All the units stationed near the "Magallanica", including the Unicorn-type Riddhe was in, were confirmed to be safe. It was known that the "Nahel Argama" too was around, so he probably was not too carried away to laugh. Knowing it was the last chance for him to laugh, Ronan did so, huffing his shoulders as he laughed away. "This...actually…" Martha groaned, stumbling backwards as she bumped into the railing. She stabilized herself from falling over completely, "...There is a way out of this. It will be easy to deal with this. How many people in this world know the significance of this broadcast? As long as the media does not pay attention to this, nobody will care about the contents of the Universal Century charter. Even if it is an artiste causing such a serious controversy, it will be forgotten in a matter of three minutes."

Her eyes were widened due to fear, and her lips were the only parts smiling. Nobody answered her; not Bright, not Aibres. Everyone stared at Mineva who informed them of the "Box" truth. Nobody turned to look at Martha, who clenched her fist behind her back, giving Ronan a numb smile.

"Isn't that right, Senator Ronan? Nothing will change. As long as the Foundation works together with the council, this little fire will be put out. We can simply jam the signal and not mention what happened. There is a limit to how much commotion the activists can cause. Once the government comes out and say it is all rubbish, no amount of evidence will deny—"

"But no matter how we manipulate the media, the fact remains that the original stone tablet is over there."

Ronan had enough of her tirade, and pointed his chin at the screen. "Destroy it then!" Martha lashed out, the smile vanished from her face as she glared at Aibres.

"Commander, fire the colony laser once again. That light was an illusion. All the obstacles have vanished, so you should be able to hit it at 100% output."

"That's impossible. Most of the capacitors and circuits were fired from the last attack. It'll take weeks of repairs to fire once again…"

"Order the "General Revil" to attack! While we're wasting time here, that "Magallanica" is intruding on Federation authority!"

Martha looked as though she was about to lynch Aibres, and the latter looked around, perturbed. He had no backing from the Foundation and the Settlement Issues council. Bright ignored the fact that that Aibres appeared to be adrift as he calmly approached Martha, "The illegal transmission is still ongoing, and obviously, the military shall act accordingly." he spoke tersely.

“But this has nothing to do with you as a civilian.”

Martha was overwhelmed by his presence, her body frozen as she had nowhere to retreat. Bright continued to stare intently as he took another step forward.

“As commander of the special forces Londo Bell, I have many questions to ask. Martha Vist Carbine, please come with us.”

His words were as sharp as an officer questioning a suspect, echoing throughout the control room. Martha’s shoulders shivered, her pale face barely eking a sneer, “What…are you saying?” she muttered.

“You are still waiting to be redeployed, no? You have no such authority. Nobody has the authority to investigate me. Commander Aibres, arrest this man. His entrance here is a breach of military regulations, no?”

Martha glared at Aibres from beyond the shoulder of Bright, who stood still like a wall. Of course, Aibres never looked back at her. Martha grew increasingly pale, and her eyes were increasingly mad. “What’s wrong with you!? Answer me! I’m the acting leader of the Vist Foundation, Even the High Council—” Her outrage sounded like a shriek, “Miss Martha.” Ronan interrupted.

“The magic of the ‘Box’ is gone. Stop.”

Martha wanted to refute, but was unable to say anything as her lips merely quivered . Next to her, Bright gave a tense, wary look towards Ronan, “Don’t worry. Things will develop as you say.” Ronan continued, and looked towards the screen, not at them.

“There is no proof that those humans who adapted to space life…are the Newtypes we speak of, and nobody will actually prove it. The public has a short term memory. In another four to five years, nobody will care about the “Laplace Box”.”


“Similarly, even if my position is swapped with yours, nobody will mind.”

Ronan continued to look at the flickering belt of light, his back turned on a speechless Martha. It was turning faint, but the Northern Lights-like veil continued to wrap around the “Magallanica”. The strange light continued to flicker in their eyes. It showed the wills of the people there─or perhaps it was the will of the entire world, including hime.

“Everything, including this, is their choice. Leave my son, and your nephew…to them.”

They had reached the point of divergence that was the century, and were the prototypes of Newtypes, changing the world gradually while bearing the next era...even if they never thought about it. It was common in history for things to return to the status quo. If the pleas were overly drastic, the drawback too would be beyond expectations. The world would not simply change based on a person's will alone. Ronan once believed that he would not become like that, but unwittingly, he arrived at the same alley as those before him. He was lost, groaned and cried, for it was to be expected. Any human would have experienced this day.

Thus, there was a need for possibilities. There needed to be a few lights paving the way in the road of darkness. There was no need to keep shining, a single moment of strong light would be sufficient. When the light fades and is forgotten, surely someone would shine a new light. It was not them to do it, but the people after them, the children who had yet to show up.

Thus, there was no need to fear, and no need to worry. All they needed to do at this point was to give their blessings to this new light. They would entrust the light of possibility, which they never were able to convey over the century, into the next century. Ronan basked himself in the distant light, the lead hammer in his heart seemingly melting away. “If the child surpasses the father…” Ronan heard this mutter, and turned to glance aside to spot Martha, who seemed to have aged a decade, and yet smiled with relief, with no obvious sarcasm.

“Ultimately, you do believe in a foolish man’s romance…how unsightly.”

It sounded as though she was implying, "I do not dislike this." Was he overthinking it? Before Ronan could think further about it, she shot Bright a dignified look of a female leader, and went towards the entrance. I do not need the magic of the "Box", I shall continue to fight, even if I have to do it alone—there was an escalating intent in her footsteps, and Bright followed suit as he led the guards. Before they left, Bright, being a father like Ronan, exchanged looks with the latter, who felt the hammer in his heart melt further.

Ronan still had work to do. The impatient sons had yet to learn how to deal with the aftermath. The priority at this point was to work together with the willing parties in the Foundation, and then to stop the military from attacking. Ronan worked his numb mind while his eyes remained fixated on the screen. For the time being, he stared at the rainbow light with an empty heart. Riddhe’s mobile suit remained a mere speck, seemingly immersed in the sea of light, which worried Ronan greatly.

"Of course, this does not refer to Newtypes. The Newtype theory advocated by Zeon Deikum is that humans who entered space will enhance their senses and interact with others without misunderstanding, and that happened more than 40 years after this chapter was finished. The chapter buried in the "Laplace" Incident was probably just a prayer for the future."

Mineva’s voice rang through the bodies and souls, and the sirens arose from the feet. Nigel was no longer looking at the light surrounding the “Magallanica”, but at the utterly damaged deck, the deck of the “Nahel Argama” the “Jesta” had landed on. “All hands, prepare for battle stations!” Captain Otto’s words could be heard, and he sensed the ship itself shaking slightly.

‘Looking at the optical sensors, it seems the “General Revil” has deployed 48 units, and theyll be within firing range in 10 minutes. All hands on deck, prepare for intercepting fire. Do not fire until a direct order has been issued.”

48 units would be the equivalent of 4 battalions on the “General Revil”. It was a brazen all out attack, but it was an appropriate number of enemies, considering that the enemy had just parried aside the colony laser. “They cleared out the hangar!” Nigel noted, “Now what?” Daryl answered with a grimace.

“No matter how far the negotiations go, it’ll take about 10 minutes to relay the commands.”

“If it’s Watts, what will he say?”

Daryl answered as his unit loaded the few cartridges into the beam rifle, ready to sortie as he awaited the command. Nigel hoped to receive some supplies, but even then, he did not want to fight against friendlies. “Isn’t it obvious?” Nigel answered as he stepped on the pedal. The two “Jestas” blared their thrusters, leaped off the deck of the “Nahel Argama”, and flew into the psycofield sea.

Even if they could not fight openly, they could charge into the opposing ranks and disrupt them. It would be best if the negotiations were successful, but if they were not…that would be for a later time. Nigel was probed by the ‘light’ of optimism, and let his unit fly towards the “General Revil attack. The Minovsky particles were already scattered, but Mineva’s voice remained uninterrupted. The broadcast continued, echoing throughout the space that was the Earth Celestial Sphere.

"But it was this moment of coincidence that turned the charter into a curse. What would happen if this chapter was tied together with Zeon's Newtype theory, and sparked the spacenoid's independence movement? The stone tablet that was supposed to be the truth behind the "Laplace Incident" became a terrifying object that could topple the Federation government. The government feared its existence, and colluded with the Vist Foundation, which had obtained this tablet, and sealed it away by calling it the "Laplace Box"."

The two new units on the open air deck could be seen blaring thrusters on the external cameras. Memory had it that they were the Tri Stars "Jestas". Since they were in combat formation, it seemed they were not retreating to their own ship. Are they about to fight back too? Zimmerman muttered , and looked away from the screen on the panel, turning towards the canopy before him.

Zimmerman looked at the little boat at the stern of the "Nahel Argama”, which doubled as a landing deck. He linked the suit’s backpack to the seat’s attachment. It appeared to be an old model used since the One Year War, but for an emergency escape boat, the visibility was decent. Zimmerman assumed that Flaste, on the pilot seat next to him, would feel the same, but the latter looked at the panel monitor, and never lifted his displeased face. Did he feel strangely out of place due to the rapid change of events? “What’s wrong?” Zimmerman tried to act callous as he asked. “They call themselves the Tri-Stars, so why are there only two units?” Zimmerman felt weak upon hearing the reply.

“If they’re going to imitate the Zeon Tri-Stars, there should be three units.”

Zimmerman felt stupid for being relieved because of this. “Who knows?” The pre-launch instructions were over, and the maintenance crew outside left the canopy, drawing circles with glowsticks to indicate all clear. Zimmerman looked towards the landing deck once again, and the sight of the Federation ship they stayed on for too long was etched in his eyes. Otto’s face was shown on the comms monitor “Good luck captain”. The elevator gate slowly rumbled open.

“Negotiations will take some time, and currently, we can’t avoid battle. Please use to the “Magallanica” defences to buy us some time.”

“Got it. I never expect to be the captain of that large ship though.”

Flaste held onto the joystick as he gave a grimace. The Garancieres crew was packed into the passenger seats, giving the same looks. Otto was requested to send capable men to the “Magallanica”, so he chose them. The decisiveness in the decision would leave them wondering if he just wanted to shoo out the troublemakers, but it appeared not to be the case. The survival of the “Nahel Argama”, already depleted of ammunition, would depend on the “Magallanica” operations. “We really never lived however we liked.” Otto chuckled without hinting at anything else, and Zimmerman shrugged.

‘But I’m proud to fight alongside you at this critical moment. Let’s have a drink once it’s over.”

It was an old line of courtesy, but it resonated with their hearts. For men at their age, there was nothing that could touch their hearts as thoroughly. Middle-aged men really were doofus, no matter whether they were Federation or Zeon. “Understood. I’ll leave the choice of shop to you.” Zimmerman lowered the helmet visor, and straightened his back. Otto saluted back, and vanished from the monitor, replaced by Mihiro. “Please launch, and good luck.” Taking the words as motivation, the boat began to move forward, passing through the elevator gate.

They flew 180 degrees from the stern, and headed towards the “Magallanica”. As they passed through the areas the “Nahel Argama”, their eyes saw the rainbow lights that were starting to fade, but flickered across at least 50km of space. The “Nahel Argama” too was wrapped in the rainbow arm. Then, two units appeared, their backs facing the “Magallanica”. Zimmerman enlarged the visual, and the blocks of noise were corrected. Two humanoid shapes were carved out; they were the Unicorn-types.

The “Unicorn Gundam” should have been ordered to return, but it remained still. The “Banshee” remained before the sister unit, and appeared to be at a loss of what to do. A sense of uneasiness suddenly arose, but it vanished before he realized the reason. “What’s with him…?” Flaste muttered, and Zimmerman stared at the monitor, “He’s probably sleeping.” He answered/

“He protected the “Magallanica” with that small body of his. Let him sleep for now. It’s time for us to move out.”

Zimmerman shushed the uneasiness within him, and looked forward. The “Magallanica” filled the line of sight in this round canopy, and its weapon pods remained in this glowing light. It was the field created by the resonance of the psycoframes…Marida showed them the ‘light’. Is her soul inside too?” Zimmerna quietly thought to himself as he stared at the flickering light, and narrowed his eyes at the “Magallanica”, determined not to let the light dissipate.

Even if it was a ‘light’ destined to vanish, never to be passed to everyone, surely he would protect it until the princess’ speech ended. The “Magallanica” existed for this, and so did he. Zimmerman experienced this thought again, and took into the bustling light of life.

Fee, Marie, Marida, if you remember me, please look at me. Papa will do something that'll make you proud— Zimmerman muttered in his throbbing heart as he inspected the weapons pods protruding from the “Magallanica”. The flickering 'light' never obstructed their view, and even shone into the shadows equally, as though assisting him.

"Perhaps it was done out of malice, but it was done in order to maintain peace and stability. However, the result of it was the continuation of the status quo, and the meaning of the "Box" will be lost. The fear of the Newtypes remained ingrained, and after the nightmare that was the One Year War, this mentality shaped the Federation government's resolute will."

The voice from afar could not fill the emptiness in the heart, and it passed through the body, fading away. Did the voice come from the crack before him? Angelo looked at the all-view monitor that was as cracked as the armor, his emptied mind started to flicker, and there was something beyond it that glowed, causing him to turn his head for the first time in hours.

The object reflecting the moonlight showed a glow more solid than the starlight. It was a star fragment—a comet. A current jolted through his empty mind, and Angelo climbed out from the belly of the "Rozen Zulu". He had no idea where he was, or what he was doing, but he remembered to open the cockpit. Once he left, he stared at the object that was only the size of his fist.

He had a closer look, and realized it was the debris of the machine. The nearly spherical object had chipped armor and cables embedded by the side. Its surface was shone upon by the moon once again, and Angel saw the red appearing in the darkness. He no longer thought about what it was. The fragment of the Red Comet—the name engraved on the chest. Angelo floated towards the vacuum.

He reached his arm out, his fingers touching the thing that resembled a heart. The sphere was cracked all over, and a little deformed. There was a hatch large enough for a person to pass through. Angelo moved his arms according to memory, and pulled down the handle. The rectangular hatch slid aside, and the weak lights of the stars shone in, shining upon the person seated on the chair.

He appeared to be in slumber. The red pilot suit remained still in the linear seat, the head covered in the helmet remained lowered. The surrounding machinery was completely wrecked. Angelo entered the cramped ball, the frosty vacuum surrounded him as he touched that person's shoulders. The seat buckles appeared to be loose. The red pilot suit slowly floated, and the helmet ornamented with a horn fell towards Angelo.

Angelo bore the weight as pain arose in his heart. Tears started to well for some reason, blurring his vision. You came here because you have nowhere to go? He embraced the frozen fragment of the Red Comet, and brought the lifeless body into his clutches. The tears formed blobs, sparkling lights floated in the helmet.

"Captain...you tired yourself out once again…"

The sudden words were devoured by emptiness, and vanished. Angelo embraced that person, and exerted strength into his hands, wanting to convey his warmth. Until the very end however, he never noticed that the visor was turned into powder.

They clung close to each other in the heart of the "Sinanju" devoid of its body, and slowly froze together in vacuum. The lights of the "General Revil" mobile suit squads passed y above, but it had nothing to do with Angelo at all.

"In a few years, the nation known as Zeon shall disappear, and the myth of the Newtypes shall be buried in the darkness of history, but it does not matter. I do not intend to pursue the matter with the Federation in spite of this revelation, and nor do I want the resurgence of Zeon. If anyone intends to do so, I shall declare, as Mineva Zabi, that I will correct that thinking. The "Laplace Box" is not such a thing. It is a box that contains humanity's kindness. A hundred years ago, we spacenoids were sent to space out of goodness. It might be out of deceit of our consciousnesses, an irresponsible prayer, but please think in the position of those who did so. They chose the best method out of the many options, and entrusted their wishes to the next generations.. While our issues differ in magnitude, we do encounter the same struggles as them. Shall we keep the "Box"? Shall we seal it? Shall we open it completely? Everything was done for humanity. It is our sin as humans, our just rewards, but it can become a possibility of destruction, or hope."

Dozens, hundreds of missiles were fired from the weapons pods, dragging long trails in psycofield, and they flew through the diluted rainbow, expanding as fireballs dozens of kilometers away, expanding in space along with the strange rainbow lights.

The extremely dense unique gas curbed the spread of Minovsky Particles, and weakened the beams by resonating with the mega particles. The missiles were equipped with what they called the M-heads, and diffused the beams, which prevented a long ranged bombardment in some defensive manner. It seemed the crew that boarded the "Magallanica" got to work immediately. While the lights scattered like fireworks, Riddhe continued to look at the "Unicorn Gundam", which was by his side the entire time. The white giant remained still as it looked forward at the distant explosions. The psycoframe had absorbed its pilot's thoughts, and was glowing rainbow, staring at the space battlefield with innocent eyes.

"What are you doing Riddhe!? Management has pulled its weight, but it'll take 30 minutes until the attack stops. It's a battlefield there!"

Alberto lashed out, and the Base Jabber passed by the feet. Riddhe stared wordlessly at the machine that seemingly flew together with the missiles.

"I'll continue to negotiate with the “Magallanica”. You two should evacuate."

"Right. Even without the power of the "Unicorn Gundam", we can survive on our own strength!"

"The "Unicorn" and the "Banshee" should probably be exhausted. Banagher, please return to the ship quickly."

"You hear us? Banagher?"

"Didn't we all agree to return to "Industrial 7" together!?"

Male and female, old and young, the voices came from both the “Magallanica” and the”Nahel Argama”. Comfort and trust, such was the pressure borne from their reliance on him—you bonded with so many people without knowing. You took on their hopes and trust, and you wore out your body and mind piloting this unit? The understanding loomed upon him in the form of regret, and Riddhe clenched his fists. He turned towards the silent "Unicorn Gundam", wiped away the droplets in his eyes. "Everyone, I'm sorry." He tried to act cheery.

"Comms offline, so you can't hear him. Banagher's fine. He said he'll be headed back."

Before Riddhe could felt guilty about this lie, "Don't make us worry…!" Alberto responded. "Hurry up. There'll be bombardment next." Otto's voice followed in the noise. The Minovsky particles were starting to increase in intensity, it seemed, and the comms were cut off after another few words. Silent, flashing explosions appeared before the two units, but it appeared to be something completely unrelated to the "Unicorn Gundam". Riddhe looked at the sidelong face that never seemed to have heard anything, and was disappointed as he touched the white armor using the "Banshee" hand.

"Come on, let's go back, Banagher."

Riddhe called out through the induction channel. He knew he was useless, but he listened attentively. He could not hear breathing, just the silence of the cockpit through the armor. A chill entered the cockpit of the "Banshee".

"Your mission's over. "Laplace Box" is opened. Go back to the ship to rest. You...you're born into this world."

The white giant contained the psycoframe─the metal that absorbed human consciousness as its blood, and it shivered. I know you no longer exist as a human in there. The price of you activating the psycofield is that your soul is absorbed by the "Unicorn Gundam". Inside here was a new, unknown lifeform, borne from the absorption of human life. Perhaps it could no longer be called a machine, but a new amalgam called the "Unicorn Gundam"...

The existence called Banagher became ambiguous, for he was fused with many thoughts, and the consciousness formed lingered in the machine. What was it doing in this rainbow amniotic fluid, having arrived at the final destination of human possibilities? Riddhe could not feel any will from the shoulder that was touched, only a devastating sense of loss. "Everyone's waiting for you." He seemingly groaned.

"You don't have any weapons left. Get on board. Maybe you'll calm down. Maybe you'll return to how you were…"

Half the words were meant to convince himself. Riddhe grabbed the floating machine, and watched to drag it back, but the arm of the "Unicorn Gundam" easily waved it the "Banshee" hand aside.

—I do not need weapons.

The eyes gave a faint light as they stared back, and Banagher's 'voice' rang. "Banagher…" Riddhe muttered as he stared blankly at the giant with the V-shaped horn.

—You can fly too. Here…

The calm 'voice' rang in the vacuum, and the "Unicorn Gundam" leaped through it. There was no thruster blare, and the rainbow light emitted from its body propelled it towards the battlefield. A rainbow phosphorus light followed through. The psycoframe of the "Banshee" too glowed more than ever as it pursued its sister unit.

It felt like he was dragged along by an invisible hand. A rainbow light was seeping in the cockpit, reached the consciousness of the "Unicorn Gundam", and throbbed away. Riddhe stared blankly at the light, and put his hand on his heart that was throbbing along with the wave. The moment he witnessed it, he felt a wave from the "Unicorn Gundam"...and felt goosebumps. The wave shook time and space, and was seemingly turning time back. If it was a fusion of 'collective' thoughts taking the form of a giant one, it would be an existence no human intelligence could grasp. The overlap of minds was not simply a case of one plus one, it was called the unlimited power of wills, capable of causing this 'light'. For individual humans, it was akin to a primordial single cell organism staring at the ultimate evolution—like a complete human.

"The "Unicorn Gundam"...the ultimate consciousness humanity knows of…"

It would not be hindered by the flesh. The collective wills were moving freely in space. The many thoughts were forever intertwined in a massive pool of knowledge. The people who lived in that instance had no words to communicate with. Was this the true form of a Newtype? To normalize a resonance? It was as though they had turned him into a god—

"...You got to be kidding. I'm not accepting this. No way will I accept this being the final destination of human evolution."

Is this the reaction of the Oldtypes? To hell with whatever they say. Riddhe was driven by the rage in his heart as he glared at the giant that moved before him.

We never had many opportunities to talk, but we trusted each other from time to time, and fought from time to time. We've been bound by the same string of fate. Riddhe's current self was born due to the human called Banagher Links, and the irreplaceable fragment was right in front of Riddhe, yet unable to be grasped. Many awaited his return, but he raced through space, as though having abandoned the world, and was about to move beyond it. How can I accept this? Zeon Deikum said that Newtypes are creatures who have exceptional insight and kindness. An arrogant being who abandoned them could not possibly be a real Newtype.

"You rude idiot. You don't think of the consequences, and you're already so far ahead. Just look around you! Nobody wants this kind of outcome. The possibility alone is enough!"

The "Unicorn Gundam" had no intention of looking back as it went forth. The mega particles in its path exploded, causing sparks on the veil of gas. The trails of long ranged missiles appeared as countless black dots. Riddhe immediately evaded, but the "Unicorn Gundam" continued to move forward. Its manipulators had no weapons when it stretched its arms out, and opened its palm towards the incoming missiles. It was assumed that the palms contained psycommu jacks, but they were radiating a visible rainbow light, and a new rainbow belt was released into the psycofield sea.

The waves of light waves touched the missiles, and reduced them to fireballs. The "Unicorn Gundam" paid no heed to the countless explosions expanding around it as it charged through the light. Riddhe pulled the joystick and gave chase after it, exerting all his 'strength' into the "Banshee". Don't look down on me, I don't want to be a servant to a god. We'll protect our possibilities in our own ways. Riddhe turned his heartfelt emotions into words, and yelled, "Banshee!"

The psycoframe excluded a golden light that pulled aside the resonating rainbow light. The horn on its head opened in a V-shape, and its limbs expanded as it blared with lights. Riddhe spotted the white giant among the maddening heat source and lights, and stepped on the pedal. The "Banshee", in the form of the "Gundam", blared its main thrusters as it charged forth once again.

“Let’s go catch that idiot,”Banshee”!”

Riddhe stared intently at the "Unicorn Gundam" within the sensor range, and went full throttle. The lion "Gundam" roared, and the accelerated G force pressed down upon the black unit.

"I'm not going to let you...get beyond the rainbow. I'll drag you back, for yourself. You and I have lots of things to do in this world!"

There was a ripple of light in this psycofield, and the exploding missiles erupted into flashes and shockwaves. The cockpit shook greatly as it took the impacts head on, but Riddhe kept staring at the "Unicorn Gundam" intently. I'm not letting you go. I'll chase you to the ends of the world. As Mineva's voice rang, the "Banshee" repositioned itself as it blared its thrusters, giving chase to the white giant that was about to disappear.

“How are you going to hug a girl like this! Huh!? I’ll steal Audrey away, Banagher!”

The "Unicorn Gundam" crossed the sea of light, through the gas clouds jamming the beams as its phosphorus lights were dragged through the darkness of space. Riddhe caught sight of it within his blurred vision, and had the "Banshee" give chase after the departing Unicorn. The black lion rushed through the void, engraving golden trails. Two beams glided through the gaps between the stairs, creating a comet trail.

"Humans want to improve, to eradicate all unreasonable thoughts, to improve this world little by little. When the Earth was unable to support the developed civilizations, our ancestors delivered the many humans into space. Truly they would be bemoaned for abandoning their people, but ultimately, it was for the sake of kindness, for humanity and Earth to survive. In future, if the existence of new space-adapting humans is confirmed, their inclusion in the running of the government is to be prioritized. That was the chapter added on the last night of Anno Domini, at the end of the Universal Century charter, and surely it was borne out of endless kindness. It all started from kindness, and whether this will end with kindness will depend on our feelings. When we change, the world will change. Even if we may not become Newtypes, we have the soul to feel, to adapt to the environment, and the power to change. Nothing will change as long as the hazard of denying ourselves as humans remains, and that we continue to seek the outrageous that is a Newtype, It may be inconvenient, and we may be anxious, but we can only continue with the kindness woven through our blood, and what we have is already in our bodies."

When it woke up, it was perturbed by the many erratic thoughts surrounding it, and felt dizzy as it stood for a long time.

Delight, anger, sadness. It was unable to abandon hope or despair, and the countless thoughts continue to reverberate around him. They never noticed how loud their voices were when they called for each other. It too was once part of them...but its memory was hazy. It continued to observe the noisy thoughts. There seemed to be a cluster of pressure threatening its existence, and it prompted the machine host forward, the priority being to eliminate that presence.

Large droves of missiles and mobile suits were closing in, but in fact, none could threaten its existence. It relied on the weak energy caused by inertia, along with the collective thoughts stored within it—unlimited 'power' was produced, yet its silhouette looked so feeble. It waved the hand, deployed a field, and destroyed the bee-like missiles. Then, it turned forward towards the floating blue planet, and the surrounding colonies, before listening to the noisy billions of thoughts.

This is a lie, so someone said. No, it's not beneath the Federation to do this, someone else refuted. The world's going to be turned upside down now, a group of people discussed. Some declared there was no proof that Newtypes existed, and nothing would change.

Most of the thoughts however never participated in this debate. While this unexpected incident caught their attention, they would soon return to the work at hand. Their thoughts were preoccupied with today's dinner and tomorrow's schedule. It felt that such dimwittedness was something only creatures of flesh would have, and an inconvenience to put in hours to maintain them.

Despite that, there was a certain change in their souls. Of the billions of thoughts, many chose to remain silent, but they were strongly reacting, like a resonating light forming deep within their hands. Surely, these lights would grow within everyone, resonate, and be groomed for the future. It felt disjointed from them, for it could not join them in their future.

'It found itself unexpectedly stunned. The collective thoughts have formed me, yet I feel so 'disjointed. Do I wish to return to that vessel of flesh? Such thoughts and awareness was something the flesh, the little universe called the brain, could not contain. Once it returned, it would forget everything, and be dominated by the limited senses of the flesh. The life climbing out from the abyss of the planet could finally be free with space. Why was there a need to backtrack?

It hesitated a moment, wondering if it was anything to do with the lingering senses in the flesh. The various thoughts within it unleashed 'heat' however, causing it to tremor as though there was flesh.

The trembling thoughts took their own appearances, and physical voices like Cardeas and Marida rang. It felt suffocated, cramped, unable to swim with them. It could not change anything, yet it hoped to change, to connect with the voices of the many bodies of flesh that formed the soul, in this 'disjointed' reality'—keep saying, even so. It is not about what we should do, but what we think we should. The maddening, almost disintegrating tremors kept occurring inside 'it. At the same time, it heard many voices coming from the outside world, and it turned behind for the first time since it was born.

Riddhe piloted the black lion, and the "Banshee" gave chase. Audrey was standing on the podium, facing the world, calling for him. At a corner of the "Magallanica", Alberto was anxiously dealing with the aftermath. Zimmerman was yelling commands in the control room, flustered that he had yet to master the controls. Takuya and Micott were on the "Nahel Argama" bridge that was clearly lacking manpower, slowly helping out. Haro was bouncing around, hit Liam in the head, and landed in the hands of Otto, who was yelling away…

The binding flesh would never reach the truth due to numbness and weakness─yet it felt so warm. The 'warmth' that continued to tussle together started because of them. Some warmth could only be generated through that flesh, and some could only be forged by them. Its consciousness turned forward again, at the world that could be considered free, and stopped moving forth. The humans who knew only of human senses would never allow them, the godly existences, to exist. The body it resided in─the "Unicorn Gundam" would be sealed together with the "Laplace Box", along with the flesh and body. The psycoframe would be buried as a taboo technology, and there might not be a second chance, but that was to be expected. Even if the technology was to be buried, the human knowledge used to create it would not be sealed. The flesh remained chaotic and inefficient, yet it would give rise to unexpected results. It was not impossible to say they would evolve in another way.

They could endure that bit of constraint, as long as these wavering convictions could be borne into possibilities. It entrusted itself in that body of flesh, which was the start of everything they felt, grasped, and chose. Cardeas, Marida and the others hoped so, and would not spend too much time into it. Banagher Links' body of flesh would rot, and would not last a century. Finally, it looked towards the transparent blue vagina floating before it, the planet that was the source of it all, and threw itself into it

The rainbow dividing the worlds apart engulfed the senses. I shall bless you, It heard someone calling for it. The still innocent children were being born on this motherly planet. The gods within them—the possibilities arising from knowledge. For it was because it felt so unnatural, that it complemented the natural. It was possible to find the raison d'etre, to use the 'light' of truth upon this world. It. The mother-like nature would form a contrast with the 'father', the guardian, and even when bound by the flesh...no, only those who knew of the warmth of flesh could reach this state.

There was no need to panic. There was still lots of time. It would take another millennium or two for the colonies to move beyond the galaxy.

"In the past, Ricardo Marcenas once said. There is no need to worry about the script others write. Just look at the future that is about to begin with the god of possibilities in your heart. Almost a century has passed, and we are back at the start. What I say is what I think. To all hearing this broadcast, please see the truth with your own eyes. Like the people a century ago, please think for the next century with kindness. Believe in the god called possibilities sleeping in our heart—"'

A current flowed through the frozen body, and the fingertips drifting in zero gravity twitched. The floating palm grabbed the joystick before it was completely awake, and regained control of the machine.


Banagher felt his flesh, and muttered. Riddhe's yells could be heard through the wireless, but he could not hear what it was about. The enemy had retreated, and the negotiations succeeded. Zimmerman and Otto and the others were calling for each other, yet they seemed so unfamiliar to his blurred consciousness. While in a daze, Banagher pulled the joystick, and had the "Unicorn Gundam" head towards where it should return to.

He returned to the "Magallanica", the large revolving residential block akin to a silver mirror. The beast of possibilities continued to race between the moon and Earth, to frolic with the girl inside it.

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