Chapter 288 - 1

Chapter 1

I'm not great at waking up. If I do wake up, I'll try to lay down again and get a few extra minutes, no matter how precisely perfect my wake up is.

But when I woke up floating next to the thing, wearing a spacesuit, I found it very easy to stay awake and stare around. How did I know it was a space suit?

Because I was in space, obviously. Well, in some kind of metal room, a hanger maybe, but I could see a big opening across from me. I floated next to the robot, desperately reaching out to grab it before I could get too far.

I was above the earth. Floating over the Earth. I swallowed, kicking my legs a bit as I held onto the robot's index finger, which was clawed like a demon's hand. Without gravity, I felt nauseous, trying to orient mysel-

The enemy gate is down.

Right. Just like when playing VR space games in my dinky Oculus headset. I thought of Earth as down and felt immediately better.

"What the hell is happening?" I mumbled, looking up at the robot next to me.

It's hard to imagine the scale. Ten meters of white metal with blue, gold and red accents. I pulled myself up and around it to take a better look. My jaw dropped.

"...Barbatos?"

It couldn't be anything else. I'd only seen Iron-Blooded Orphans once, but the Gundam Barbatos had a really unique design. The clawed fingers and feet, the unique sort of swoopy gold crown on its head. It wasn't all out, with the massive lanky arms and golden claws, but still. 

Gundam Barbatos. The original. 

I almost let go of the portion of the arm I was holding onto in surprise. Space. Gundam. In space with a Gundam.

The last time I'd felt so lost was… fairly recently, actually. But it was fucking close to how I'd felt before. 

Floating next to a superweapon, I swallowed a bit. When a cloud began to cover my vision, I went to wipe it away, only to realize my breath was fogging up the inside of my helmet. I went to take it off to rub the fog away.

Thankfully the spacesuit helmet wasn't that easy to remove, because it took only a second of me rubbing at my neck for me to realize how stupid was being.

I started giggling. Fucking hell. I'd tried to remove my helmet to wipe away the fog from it. My spacesuit helmet. While I was in space. 

For a bit, I giggled to myself, clutching the arm of the Barbatos and laughing a bit crazily.

The Barbatos' green eyes didn't seem to share my amusement.

There's only so long you can float next to a giant robot giggling insanely before it gets boring. Then you start exploring.

The robot was, obviously, huge. The scale was insane. Its hand could wrap around my body and squish me like a grape. I floated over to top of the robot, noting the open cockpit and floating down into it. A perfectly tight and uncomfortable fit for me. I mean, I had been given to believe that was normal, but still, Mikazuki Augus was tiny compared to my ancient 35 year old well-fed ass.

The fact I could actually sit in it was a shocker.

I got said 35 year old ass into the pilot's seat and noted one of the most famous parts of the Iron-Blooded Orphans conceit, the Alaya-Vijnana System; a series of open ports meant to interface with a human. Some scary shit. Integrating directly with a machine through freaky holes in… your… spine.

Swallowing, I reached to my back. In the center of my shoulder blades was a small bulbous piece of metal. I stretched my arm a bit more, and one of my fingers dipped into a hole in the center.

I almost threw up. I knew what that meant. Someone had taken me and did some invasive surgery on me. Turning me into an Alaya-Vijnana pilot. I wanted to throw up, punch a wall, and lose my mind.

Instead, I rested back into the seat, closing my eyes. I was in outer space. I needed to get to a safe place. And for now, a giant robot superweapon was safer than just going out on my own.

At least, until I felt something enter my back. I saw the screen of the cockpit controls flash. Then all of a sudden, something filled my mind. Someone screamed. It wasn't painful, but I still felt it like… like I was drowning.

And then I was back. And I felt my mind racing again. Barbatos' systems came alive. With instincts I'd never had before, I grabbed the controls and flipped through them, bringing the giant robot to life. The cockpit closed around me, screens lighting up further.

I suddenly felt the pull of gravity again, the Gundam around me roaring.

"How am I doing this?" I wondered to myself. No one answered. I grabbed the handles of the Barbatos. 

And he/I rose up. It didn't feel like piloting. It felt like I was as much a part of the machine as I was controlling it. Do you pilot your own body?

I only had a single screen in front of me, even less vision than I'd had in my old VR mecha games, but it didn't seem so bad. Something about the AV system helping me? My body and the Gundam just seemed to meld together.

Barbatos clenched fingers open and closed, and I looked around. A massive fucking sword in the corner drew my attention. It was huge, even compared to the Barbatos, made of black metal, with a handle large enough for even my new mecha hands.

"By all accounts it was nothing more than a giant hunk of iron." I whispered as I took a hold of the handle and hefted it. I felt so powerful. Controlling a giant fucking robot, holding a big ass weapon.

When I jumped up towards the hole in the hanger, thrusters pushed me through the air, letting me safely fly up and out. I turned, looking around.

The Earth below me, but hundreds of thousands of miles away, a blue dot in the distance. And around me… the hanger I had come out of was just one piece of debris. All around me was so much more. From pieces of metal the size of cars (some of them were cars), apartment buildings floating in space, and even city-sized chunks of curved metal and dirt, space was filthy.

And all of it was destroyed. Exploded apart.

There was also lightning. A shit-ton of lightning, bouncing between the metal debris. None of it was close to me, but it was still unnerving.

"What the hell happened here?" I mumbled, flying the Barbatos forward. It was a horror show on a scale I had never expected. I flew past what looked like a suburban home. For a funny moment I thought of Zathura, that fun movie from years back with some kid's house flying through space. That was ruined when I saw a body.

I felt bile in my throat again.

Flying on, there were more bodies, but not humans. Not alien either. They were livestock. Cows, pigs, and chicken, all damaged by the ravages of space and whatever had torn apart these floating buildings.

A colony? I'd seen them in Iron-Blooded Orphans, but I didn't remember a lot of details. Who had done this?

I flew towards the biggest chunk. Despite the grimness of things, I still felt a bit giddy. Flying was awesome. Rocketing through the stars, heading towards a strange curved chunk of a destroyed piece of a colony. Once I reached it, I pulled back on the controls and landed on the chunk, looking around. Even in a mecha, I was dwarfed by the piece I'd landed on. It was the size of a city, a curved portion of metal pipes, plating, and floating pieces of dirt.

I hopped just a bit and my thrusters sent me forward, my new sword on my shoulder as I flew over the landscape. I wasn't sure what I was looking for. Food? Yeah. Food, water, and maybe whatever the Barbatos used as fuel? No, it had Ahab Reactors, no need.

…How did I know that?

That question lasted just long enough for someone to shoot at me. A bright light hit the metal plates just in front of me. I stopped, shocked, and then more beams hit me directly.

"Got 'em!" Mikey crowed. He glanced at his display, with three of his allies at his side. His fellow pirates were shooting alongside him, tearing into the guy below with their MS-06 Zaku IIs. 

They had been flying through this area (Sector 4 of Earth Sphere) trying to find something of value they could pawn off. Things hadn't been great in the wake of the One Year War, and pirates weren't exactly having an easy time of it. It had been easier to use the war to pick off the fat of both sides.

So scavenging like vultures was easier. Getting bits of valuable items to sell off and survive a few more months.

And instead of simple trash, they'd found a mobile suit that registered as an Unknown. 

That was unusual. And the actual Mobile Suit was weird looking. Clawed hands, a giant sword, a white, blue, and red color scheme, and a golden crown. The colors of Mobile Suits that had some very big kill counts. But it was different in design from anything like those. Had they found some kind of secret weapon from the One Year War?

Whatever it was, they knew it was worth something. And gathering together until the right moment to attack paid dividends. Although one of them was taking its appearance seriously.

"Die, White Devil!" Schwarz screamed, firing again and again into the cloud below, screaming over and over.

"He does know that's not really a Gundam, right?" Mikey asked, getting no response. Schwarz, unlike the rest of them, had fought in the war himself, on the side of Zeon, and had survived against the most famous weapon of said war. 

Well, whatever the machine below was, it at least looked like a Gundam enough to make Schwarz fight like a devil, so that was good enoug-

Something shot out of the cloud of smoke, rushing towards them. Mikey had enough time to see a black flash, then the arms and legs of his suit were just gone. Just like that. He went from shooting down at the enemy to limbless in seconds with impossibly quick flashes of black metal somewhere in the middle

Mikey watched in mounting horror as the enemy turned the face the others, hefting a sword nearly as tall as itself in its clawed hands. The others shot at it, beams hitting directly against the machine. And they reflected off of it, like normal lasers against a mirror. 

"Impossible!" Mikey said to himself.

The Gundam, because no other word fit it, rushed forward with impossible speed, its sword slicing outwards. Metal squealed as a sword bigger than a building shredded through the arms of a Zaku, sending more debris to join the rest. With his view of things, Mikey could appreciate how fast the pilot shifted his grip to swing forward again, ripping through one leg then the other, before reaching out to grab the Zaku's head and rip it off.

It continued to ignore the others firing on it. Instead, the Gundam flew past its now limbless opponent, swinging its sword behind it to remove the Zaku's thrusters. A chill filled Mikey then. He tried to activate his own thrusters, only to get nothing but red alarms.

The third Zaku faced the same fate. Which left only Schwarz.

Schwarz, the most combat-experienced of them, screamed while flying back from the Gundam. It seemed to cock its head curiously when Schwarz dodged its first swipe. Schwarz roared, shooting it uselessly in the face.

When that didn't work, the old soldier swung his Zaku's fist instead.

The Gundam caught Schwarz attack by the wrist, then swung its sword to shred that arm off.

It accelerated further, overcoming Schwarz' experience with pure speed and agility to shred his Zaku apart as well.

That was what a Gundam was, Mikey realized as his seat became wet and warm. A machine that didn't need to be piloted by someone better than you to win. It was just plain strong enough, fast enough, invulnerable enough, that you couldn't do anything.

Schwarz lost his Zaku's head. Then legs. And thrusters. Just like the rest.

Floating as useless torsos, Mikey prepared to die with the others.

Instead, the Gundam flicked Schwarz away with a finger, looked over at them, and to Mikey's amazement, shrugged. It then flew back to the colony. Didn't kill them, didn't even look back.

"...What the fuck just happened?" Mikey asked, feeling less like a pirate and more like a disciplined child.

"White Devil," Schwarz wheezed, clutching at his chest and breathing hard. "White Devil. WhiteDevilWhiteDevil-"

"Very helpful, Schwarz, thank you," Mikey sighed. He wiggled his hips a bit, sighing at the wet feeling. Damn it. Cleaning his cockpit was going to suck.

The Gundam continued to search for something, ignoring them as they sent out a distress signal. By the time reinforcements came, it had long since disappeared, leaving them to tell the story.

Chapter 2

Food and water that survived vacuum was both more abundant than I'd realized, and not quite as abundant as I would have hoped for. I'd never had to ration food before, but it only took a bit of searching to realize that might become the new normal.

After my first fight went down of course. That had been… well. Terrifying. And cool. And terrifying.

When those shots came down and started hitting me, I had screamed in fear and shock. 

Look, I'd never been shot at before. It was a learning experience.

It took a bit to realize that not only was I not dead, but that the beams were just reflecting off my armor, hitting the areas around me. I did take some damage, but only from the shrapnel that followed the beams hitting the colony piece I was near, not the actual weapons. Once I closed in on them and started swinging, I was fine.

Which taught me two things. My new robot was practically invincible against energy weapons. And ballistic weapons could still hurt me. Well, better to learn both against whatever random guys I had fought instead of some kind of Char-clone.

(My knowledge of Gundam was shallow, but I was assured by my friends Char-clones were infinite.)

After that fight, I was free to fly through the colony. I'd found my way to a place that had once been a neighborhood, with suburban homes destroyed and floating about, a few still attached to the 'ground' of the colony. With those I had to leave the safety of my giant robot and enter the homes myself.

That was just sad and sickening. Seeing things like dead people floating in vacuum within their former homes. Toys and crayon drawings on walls, blood floating in the cold, burned sections where some weapon had torn through buildings and people.

But the homes had food. A lot of the food was destroyed, since space hates all forms of organic life, but the people lived in the colony were spacefolk, and thus had food meant to be transported through space. I found freeze-dried things, water in metal canteens, stuff meant to survive and feed a home.

I wasn't eating like a king, but I had some food… just not a lot.

Whoever those guys in Zakus were, they weren't the first to visit the dead colony. The place was very obviously picked over. No electronics, no valuables, a few people had fingers and ears torn apart from where jewelry had been ripped off of them. Bodies of the dead treated like obstacles.

The best I could do was try to be respectful. I got what I could, hopping out of the Barbatos and stealing from the inside the homes turned tombs.

It was nerve-racking. Me in a brown spacesuit, floating alone in a home, lightning striking through space in the distance, nothing but dead bodies and a Gundam looming over it all. Like a horror movie brought to life. 

At one point I just kind of stopped. I floated in front of the Barbatos, clutching to the roof of a house and just staring out at the world around me. Debris floating about with some of it the size of cities, lightning bouncing around the place, a Gundam staring down at me, and the Earth and Sun glowing far, far away.

I stared out at that, breathing slowly. The situation still didn't feel real. Lost in space with a giant robot. Where was I in the wide ranging setting that was Gundam, anyways? The UC era? Oh shit, maybe a Super Robot one? God I hoped not.

You'd think Zakus would have narrowed it down, but Zakus were all over the Gundam timelines. Like cockroaches.

I felt a weird sensation. You know when you stand on the edge of a building, and for a moment, for some reason, you think about taking a step? I had that, but for floating out into space. Just letting go of the roof and flying out into the distance.

Instead I pushed off towards the Barbatos and entered the cockpit, now filled with floating packages of food and water. Once the Barbatos closed up, I opened a package of freeze-dried protein bars and drank water while thinking out loud.

"So. We're in the middle of nowhere space, without allies. I mean, I have you, Barbatos," I said to the Gundam connected to my brain. "And you're awesome. But I'm just a random asshole in a superweapon. I don't even know where or when we are. And I don't want to just keep floating around stealing food from the dead and dodging whoever the powers of this place are."

I scowled. "Though obviously Zeon is a thing. Which means the Earth Federation probably is. And guess who that makes the good guys!?"

I waited dramatically. "That's right, Barbatos! Who the fuck knows! One of them? Both of them? Neither? Some other third unknown option?"

I chuckled, leaning back in my way too tight cockpit. "I finally get a giant robot out of my dreams, and I don't even know who I'm supposed to point it at. Which I guess is perfectly Gundam, huh?"

I finished my food. With no other option, I opened the cockpit to toss my garbage into space, feeling bad, but not having a lot of other choice. "I need to get the lay of the land," I mumbled, closing up the Barbatos again and taking hold of the controls. Lightning struck over and over around me as I flew aimlessly through the debris.

Mikey watched the screen before him, swallowing just a bit. "Yeah. Yeah, that's the one."

"Gundam," the man he spoke with whispered, leaning his head down to stare at the machine flying in the distance. "Our sensors can't get a good track on it. If you hadn't told us about this, we would never have noticed him."

Mikey swallowed a bit more, looking around. After getting turned into useless life-pods by a monster from legend, he'd thought they'd faced the worst of things. When their distress signal was picked up and someone approached to save them, he'd sighed in relief.

Until he saw who had arrived. Zeon. Maybe not the real ones, but the guys who seemed to think of Sector 4 as their home turf. And part of why piracy was so hard to do in the area. He and his crew had managed to sneak by with some stolen Zakus, but apparently when they sent out a distress signal, it went out to the original owners of the things.

A Papua-class flew in and picked them up shortly after.

It didn't take them long to figure out that Mikey and crew were not, in fact, lost soldiers of Zeon, but dirty goddamn pirates. With little choice otherwise, Mikey was forced to pull the only card he had. The footage from their Zakus of a new unknown Gundam.

It was probably the only thing keeping them alive.

Now the Zeon Captain of the ship had pulled Mikey into the bridge to confirm that the Gundam looking Mobile Suit was, in fact, a Mobile Suit. And now he was watching the strange claw-fingered Gundam fly seemingly aimlessly between the debris.

"What should we do, sir?" One of the Zeon soldiers asked.

Mikey waited for the inevitable. Attack. Kill it. Capture it.

"..." The captain's hands shook, then turned to fists. A bead of sweat dripped down his face. And Mikey was once again reminded of what exactly a Gundam was. That just the sight of one in the distance could make a Zeon Captain hesitate.

Amuro Ray, a teenager, had driven the fear of his father's legacy into the hearts of every soldier of Zeon in existence.

Still, the captain finally opened his hands and let out a shaky breath. "Keep eyes on it. I want to get an idea of its capabilities. And you," the captain turned to glare at Mikey. "You are going to tell my Zaku pilots everything you know."

Mikey nodded. As two big guards pulled him away, he kept from sighing. 'Tell them everything you know'. All Mikey knew was that the Gundam was fast, strong, and kicked his ass.

Well. At least he was alive. For however long that lasted.

He glanced back at the screen, where the Gundam had paused to look around. The green eyes flashed in the light of a thunderbolt. Mikey shivered, spinning back around quickly.

White Devil. Schwarz hadn't been wrong when he called it that.

"Come on, Pee Pants," One of the guards said, pushing Mikey forward. Mikey scowled. Damn it. And of course, he hadn't had time to change before being kidnapped. This was the worst day.

I spent a day flying through the debris field. Not looking for food, but instead just trying to find any information I could. I flew around skyscrapers torn to shit, through metal tunnels as big around as a football stadium, and back into the void of space while lightning continued to strike.

I didn't see anything that told me what version of giant robot murderworld I was in though. It was apparently UC 79 in terms of years, but I would have needed the Gundam wiki to guess what that meant exactly.

After a while, I was on my last legs, mentally speaking. I leaned back in my cockpit to think. There was one thing I hadn't tried. Something stupid. But also something that would give me answers.

My choices were to fly around in space, stealing what food I could with no answers, or to… 

"Fuck it."

I tapped the control panel. I brought up the radio, and I began speaking.

"This is the Gundam Barbatos. I'm a neutral Mobile Unit lost in the wake of a cosmic event. Is anyone out there? Please respond."

I leaned back in my seat again, waiting. No response. I tried again.

"Once more, this is the Gundam Barbatos, requesting assistance. Is there anyone out there? I have an idea of my coordinates. I know I'm in Earth Sphere, but that's it. Can you hear me out there?"

Still nothing. Well, worth a shot. At worst, I figured maybe an enemy would show up and I could beat them up and find answers. Maybe. Some pilots were nuts. If someone who could pilot well enough showed up, I'd be toast.

Better than floating alone in space, eating dry ass astronaut food and waiting for someone to kill me.

I grabbed the controls again. And the radio came to life.

"This is Captain Burroughs of the Papua-Class Dried Fish. Unknown Pilot, identify yourself."

Hearing a human voice threw me. Just for a moment. "Uh, hi. Yeah, this is," Damnit, don't use your real name. Just in case. "This is Desert, pilot of the Gundam Barbatos. You someone about to help me or hurt me?"

The voice on the other end didn't respond. When it did, it sounded bemused. Like it didn't know if it should laugh or not. "That depends on you, pilot. Are you an enemy of the Principality of Zeon?"

Oh god fucking damnit. I rubbed my face and sighed. "Of course."

Opening up comms again, I spoke. "I'm not an enemy to anyone. I'm just lost. But I'm guessing you want to grab my Gundam, steal its specs, maybe put one of your own pilots in it?" I closed the comm, then reopened it again. "And please don't say something like 'surrender or die'. I just want to chat. I'm completely lost."

The captain on the other end sighed. "I don't think I'd be doing my job if I didn't at least try to capture you. If you have half the capabilities these pirates claim."

"Oh hey, those guys made it? Tell 'em I say hi." I said jovially. Then I narrowed my eyes. "Look, I don't want to fight anyone. Is there any way I can talk to you without having to defend or surrender myself?"

The captain was quiet. I slowly opened up what were apparently the sensors of the Barbatos. I could see something, far off, but the debris and lightning was throwing me off. Well, those and some other things. 

"Look kid," the captain said, losing any sense of professionalism. "If you really are out here, alone, then you don't have much choice but me. You can grab whatever scraps remain, but eventually you'll end up either starving to death or running into someone less willing to talk. If you come in with that Gundam, I can protect you. I might even be able to convince my superiors to let you keep that thing. But this is the last chance you get. Then I'll send your information out. You'll be hunted by every person in Sector 4 like an animal."

The captain chuckled. "I'm sorry. But a neutral Gundam? No such thing. The best I can do is try to be fair. You won't get a better deal."

"...I'm very tempted to hunt down your ship and cut it in half," I growled under my breath, tightening my hands on my controls.

"I get that. But that won't solve your problems."

I knew that. Goddamn it. And it was a better deal. Plus, without an AV system like I had, they wouldn't be able to pilot the Gundam Barbatos. Especially if I locked it down.

Zeon though. Char 'no, I just suspiciously follow Amuro because I really hate him' Aznable's faction. I knew that there weren't really good and bad guys in the whole conflict, but still.

"What do you think?" I asked Barbatos.

Lightning struck nearby, and I didn't even flinch. Somehow that felt like an answer. Meet those guys. And if they didn't line up with what I wanted, Barbatos would be there.

"I'll meet you," I sent out on the comms. "But if I get the slightest sense that you're going to attack me, I'll show you what a Gundam can really do."

Not that I knew anything about that beyond anime AMVs. Still, it sounded like a good threat.

"Very well. Meet us here."

Coordinates were sent over. I noted them, and immediately started flying as fast as I could, the Gundam blazing through the debris. Wherever that ship was, it wasn't as fast as Barbatos, I was sure of it. Better to get there first. 

On the remains of what was once a school playground, we met. The ship hovered over me, lights spinning around to land on my Gundam. I stared up at it, eyes widening.

Once, when I was a kid, I went on a trip to see a naval ship that had been turned into a museum. Can't remember the name of it, but I remember being amazed at the sheer scale of the thing. 

The ship floating near me was more than twice as big as that. Big enough that my Gundam could easily walk inside portions of it.

For some reason, despite my awe, I didn't feel any fear towards the ship flying down to meet me. Hefting the sword on my shoulder, I stared up at it, impressed, but not freaking out.

It felt like I could take it on. Easily. Which might have been true. My sword hadn't had much trouble thus far, and I was apparently somewhat invincible to laser weaponry.

The ship stopped approaching and the comm link opened up again.

"Gundam Barbatos. You are to exit your Gundam and sur-"

"Captain, come on. Be serious," I cut him off, even as Zakus flew out of the ship to surround me, their guns pointing directly at me. "I'm alone. You have to know that. I'm being nice, but I'm not in a position where I can leave the one bit of safety I have, to face people who might kidnap and kill me. I'll enter your ship, but I'm not leaving my Gundam until we either become allies or part ways."

The comm was quiet. Then the captain's voice came back on. "Very well. My men will escort you. But make a move and they will take you apart."

I didn't doubt that. I did a feel a bit more nervous. You'd think that a giant ship would be less terrifying than a Zaku, but something about the way the Zakus floated over to act as my escorts had me think the pilots were a bit more 'prepared' than the guys I'd fought before.

It didn't help that the Zaku's also had a bit more differences between them. One of them didn't even really look like a Zaku actually? It had a strange cross-shaped head, with purple limps and a darker color to the rest.

The five Zakus escorted me in, leading me to a hanger in the ship where more mecha suits waited, all pointing weapons at me. I strolled in, looking around.

They looked so different from me… From Barbatos, I mean. Damn it. I kept thinking of Barbatos as me and I. Ah well. 

Point was, the design of the Zaku's of various types were very different in design language from the Gundam Barbatos. I had a more sleek design, sure, but I was also more angular. I looked like what I was I guess.

The Zakus were military units built to be used by soldiers to fight wars. I was a superweapon made for an ace pilot to kill armies.

My internal glazing of the Gundam Barbatos was interrupted by someone floating into the hanger. He was wearing a simple captain's hat on his head, had long brown hair, a mustache and well-trimmed beard. Despite being a speck compared to all the mecha around him, they all stepped aside respectfully to give him a clear path to reach a walkway that was eye-level with me. He put his hands on the railing.

No. He put a hand and a rough looking prosthetic on the railing. That was interesting.

"So, the Gundam Barbatos." The man, Burroughs apparently, said. "I knew the Earth Federation was making more, but I never imagined they would look like this."

"I wasn't made by the Earth Federation." I said over my robot's speakers, crossing my arms. A few Zakus tightened their fingers on their triggers. "The Gundam Barbatos wasn't made for this war. I just got lost on my way to another one."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Burroughs asked, looking befuddled.

"It means that I have no choice but to group up with people who won't kill me on sight," I grumbled. "And based on the way your guys are pointing guns at me, that isn't going to happen just yet."

"My men are watching me speak with a version of the White Devil that killed many of their fellow soldiers. Of course they're nervous."

I scoffed, just a bit. "Yeah. I get that. But I'm not him. I'm an idiot in the wrong place at the wrong time, in a giant robot only I can pilot."

"Only you, hm?" He asked skeptically.

I pressed something on the console. Not locking it exactly, but the AV system's connection told me that if that someone didn't do an exact sequence, then the Barbatos wouldn't boot up correctly the next time. Anyone familiar with the operating systems could easily figure it out, but I was betting the fact the Barbatos was from a different universe was on my side.

"Only me. And all I want is to have my robot and my freedom."

"Hmph… would that it were so easy," Burroughs grumbled. He crossed his arms, glaring up at me. "I can promise that while you are on this vessel, as long as you don't act with hostility, we will do the same. We want an opportunity to study your Gundam. To take its technology for the betterment of all."

"You mean the betterment of Zeon. Which isn't always to the benefit of the innocent," I said. I wasn't being a jerk, just, you know… the meme about there being no good guys in Gundam wasn't entirely true. "How do you even know my Gundam is worth it?"

"Because it is a Gundam," the captain said, looking frustrated. "A strange one, but I've seen one. And a Gundam for us could change the war. We could defend our home, keep the Earth Federation from taking it from us."

"Sure. And there is no way things are more complicated than that," I sighed. "But I don't really have a choice if I want to, you know, live. So what's the deal?"

"Room and board," Burroughs said, just a bit confused looking. "We'll allow you to live here, while we study your Mobile Suit. Like I said. I'll keep you safe in return. In the end, if we can replicate your Gundam's technology, we might even let you leave with it."

"Might?"

He flinched. "I can't promise my superiors won't ask to keep it. If you are telling the truth that you are the only one who can pilot it, I can convince them otherwise."

"That's the best you can do." It wasn't a question.

He looked a bit chagrined, but also firm. I sighed. For a moment, I thought about fighting my way out, trying to fly to Earth, take my chances there. But I had no clue how long that would take or what I would find.

"Okay… where can I park?" I asked at last.

Burroughs looked relieved. "Take that bay there."

I walked over to where he pointed, resting my back against the wall. I sighed. "Just so we're clear. Barbatos won't move without me. I'm being cooperative. So please, please don't kill me the second I get out."

"I'm not that kind of soldier," Burroughs said. For some reason, I believed him.

I opened the cockpit as he walked over until he was on a walkway just in front of me again. When I came out, he cocked his head. "You're younger than I expected."

"I'm 35."

"Oh… You look younger than I expected."

I floated down towards him, stopping in front of him. He was taller than me, more built as expected of a career soldier. "So, what happens now?"

"An interrogation," he said firmly. A few men in the same dark green clothes as himself walked over, no weapons out, but looking very serious. "I want to know who you are, where you came from, and where you got your Gundam. Cooperate, and I'll make sure you're treated well."

I sighed. Yeah, I expected it. Better than scrounging around in space I guess. "Fine. Can I at least get a burger?"

No one answered me. Instead I was taken by the arms and dragged off, Burroughs eyes on me before he stared up at Gundam Barbatos.

Chapter 3

Captain Burroughs of the Dried Fish

Their newest acquisition brought as many problems as he did boons.

The first thought Burroughs had when he saw the man who climbed out of the death machine that was a Gundam was that the man wasn't a soldier. He was short but stocky, thickly built and a bit overweight. He had tanned skin and a black beard, and just didn't look like the type he imagined inside a Gundam. Granted, he had only ever heard of one Gundam. 

And he shuddered to imagine what sort of horrific monster of a man piloted the White Devil.

But the one that came out of the new strange Gundam was relatively normal. He was clearly an Earther or was raised in a colony, didn't have the more thin and willowy look that those who spent most of their time in space. Arabian probably as well. A grown man. Most of the time that would make him more dangerous, not less. Soldiers who made it past their twenties tended to be dangerous, lucky, or a combination of both.

But this man didn't strike him as a veteran. He wasn't unintelligent, but he didn't seem to be a soldier.

They took him into interrogation, where Burroughs learned something horrible. The man, Desert he'd called himself, thought he was funny.

Annoying, talking to someone like that. The first run they took at him told him that instantly.

"Where did you get the Gundam?"

"I woke up in space next to it."

"Are you joking?"

"Not even a little bit. If I was going to joke, it would be funny."

"So you just found a Gundam?"

"Maybe he found me. Maybe it was love at first sight."

"..."

"See. Funny."

The other questions hadn't gone any better.

"Are you a member of the Earth Federation?"

"The guys who use child soldiers to fight their wars and oppress anyone they consider lesser? Sure, because I'm a psychopath."

"And your thoughts on Zeon?"

"The guys whose best pilot is a pedophiliac maniac with all the moral complexity of a knife in the back of an innocent orphan child… Hey, I'm not trying to be mean, it's true!"

The interrogation just got more intensive as they studied the Gundam.

"It's incredible," Karla Mitchum, a female scientist working on Living Dead Divisions RPD project said as she floated alongside Burroughs' latest headache. The burgundy haired scientist was young and beautiful, with kinder eyes than anyone else roaming the Dried Fish. The biggest difference was that she had all her limbs, a rarity on the vessel.

She floated up past one of the other scientists, a man named JJ, then around some engineers that were taking scans of the Gundam, before floating in front of its head. She touched the Barbotos' face, staring into its green eyes almost dreamily. "What sort of genius made something like you?"

"So it has value to us?" Burroughs asked her from the walkway below. 

Karla looked over at him, a bit of distaste on her face that she quickly hid. "More than value. This Mobile Suit has basically accomplished what the Reuse P. Device was made for on a much deeper level!"

"What?" Burroughs asked, befuddled.

The Reuse P. Device, or RPD system. It was why the Living Dead Division had so many amputees in their roster. 

Nominally, they were stationed to defend the remains of Side 4, a section of space around Earth that once held a colony named Moore. Now that colony had been destroyed, with the Living Dead defending the remains from the Earth Federation.

The other reason was to perfect the RPD. A device that would allow a pilot to move a Mobile Suit with the same ease as moving their own arms and legs through a signal transmitted from the brain. And the best way to do that, was to intercept messages that came from the brain to the limbs. Thus, soldiers with prosthetics were used to test it.

And now, someone had effectively made the same technology already?

"Explain it to me. Slowly," Burroughs asked.

"I can't," Karla now looked frustrated. "The operating system of this Mobile Suit is entirely alien to us. Look," she took a tablet in hand and floated down to Burroughs, showing him. As she'd said, while the language was in English, a language many learned in the Earth Sphere, the rest of it was almost incomprehensible to him.

Burroughs hadn't had to pilot a Zaku in person for a long time, but he'd seen enough operating systems to be a bit bewildered at the sight of the one before him. He also noted that Karla had a wire connected from the tablet to the Gundam, rather than connecting remotely.

"It has no wireless capability," Karla said by way of explanation before he could ask. "The operating system was made on a completely different philosophy than ours. Wherever this came from, the Federation and Zeon were nowhere near it."

"So how do you know it has something better than the RPD?" Burroughs asked.

"Becuase of the physical aspects of it," JJ answered for Karla. She narrowed her eyes at him but didn't say anything, letting him float down and talk in her place. "The cockpit has some sort of interface meant to interact with a pilot's spine. We're still having trouble studying it, but it's elegant. And the rest of the machine is even more fascinating. Even if it had normal controls, it would still be revolutionary."

"The armor," Burroughs said.

"Exactly," Karla said.

JJ looked up at the Barbatos. "The paint. It's… I don't know how to begin to explain it. The technology is practically beyond us. Some sort of multi-layer arrangement? It's like… a cushion, rather than a true hard armor, but it still works effectively the same, just better than anything I ever imagined. Almost completely reflects all beam weapons. It's not invincible, but it's good. It can be removed with enough physical force, maybe heat? We're still studying it."

"And if the paint is gone?" Burroughs asked.

"Then the rest of the thing is just as impressive," JJ said with a bit more heat than Burroughs expected. 

Karla blinked, apparently just as surprised. When JJ turned to glare up at Barbatos rather than continue, Karla hesitated before speaking. "A-Ah, the Mobile Suit has a lot more going on than we were ready for. Zeon's current knowledge on the Gundam they've been fighting only barely matches this Mobile Suit, and only superficially. The power source, the materials, frame. It's all way beyond what we have seen before. It doesn't even use Minovsky particles as far as we can tell."

"And it's impossible," JJ spat. "Because this thing is old. All our analysis tell us that it's over 200 years old. Minimum."

Burroughs felt his brain freeze. That would make it a machine made in… A time period where they hadn't even had radios and cars. He spun to look up at the Gundam. Then at JJ. "That… You must have gotten that wrong."

"Ah yes, my team that does nothing but study, repair, and build Mobile Suits somehow missed the age of the thing." JJ said sarcastically.

"It can't have been made before Mobile Suits," Burroughs said, rubbing his face with his remaining hand.

"Yeah… there are some theories we've been floating around. Some more crazy than others." JJ said, shaking his head.

"Crazy?"

Karla and JJ shared a look. She coughed before speaking. "Time travel."

Burroughs rolled his eyes. "Okay, crazy."

"But not impossible," JJ said. When Burroughs gave him a skeptical look, JJ smirked. "I know. But think about it. A three hundred year old mobile suit, with a different building philosophy than we're used to, a pilot who knows more than he should and yet seems unsure about the basic facts?"

"Shouldn't he know more?" Burroughs asked.

"Not at all," Karla said. "Think about it. If you were sent back even one hundred years, how familiar would you be with the time period? Would you be able to remember every little fact, every thing that happened? He said he just woke up in space. Who knows how he got there."

"If he's telling the truth." Burroughs said, shaking his head. "No. This was made by the Earth Federation. Do what you can to make it pilotable, but our priority is copying the technology."

"But-" Karla was about to say.

"Let me be clear," Burroughs snapped. "It is not that I don't believe you. But time travel? I need the higher-ups to take this seriously, and unless their own people verify what you are saying, things like time travel, or alternate dimensions, or some magical land, that will all make them see me as some crazed captain."

He sighed, staring up at the Gundam. "I'm still not sure that I'm not crazy… For now, we found a Gundam and a pilot. Both are in custody, and the pilot is cooperative. That is the story."

"Is he?" JJ asked. "Cooperative, I mean."

Burroughs scowled. "He is. But he's also not helpful."

"Can I speak with him?" Karla asked. "Maybe if I talk to him, he can help me understand the operating systems?"

"...Maybe," Burroughs sighed. He doubted he'd do that. Turning his back on the two scientists, he began floating away. Behind him, he heard Karla say one more thing.

"Maybe he can explain all these audio files we can't access…"

As Burroughs walked away, his First Mate joining him, he noticed some new observers. "Snipers? What are you doing here?"

Sean Mitadera, Fisher Ness, Daryl Lorenz, and Hoover Aisla all leaning against the railing leading to the Gundam Barbatos, the four of them staring up at the bane of Burroughs' existence. The four were among Burroughs best pilots and snipers, and thus had a bit of leeway others didn't around the Dried Fish.

"Just seeing the big demon up close, boss," Hoover, a good-looking blonde man with a bit too much arrogance to him, said with a smirk. "It's taller than I expected."

"And way cooler!" Sean, a short man with white hair, two prosthetic arms, and a manic energy to him, said while bouncing in the zero g. "Look at the claws! It looks mean."

"Do we need to know anything about it, sir?" Fisher, an older man with a gray buzzcut, asked. Unlike the others, he didn't have prosthetics for his legs on, opting to float in the zero g instead.

"Only that we are still researching it." Burroughs growled.

"And the pilot?" Darryl asked.

Burroughs looked at him. Unlike the others, Darryl hadn't removed his eyes from the Gundam. "Don't worry about him. We're interrogating him now, and if all goes well, we'll send him out for imprisonment soon."

"Why not just hire him on?" Sean asked. 

"Hmf. Not likely. It would take a lot for something like that to happen."

Desert

There are only so many times you can be asked the same questions over and over before it gets boring. But the constant threat of violence helps make things fresh.

I had been in custody for a couple of days. I didn't see Burroughs again. But I did see his interrogators. They were two guys, both huge and soldiery, both very frustrated with me. But I couldn't answer their questions. And they wouldn't answer mine, so I still had no clue where I was.

Where did I get the Gundam? At this point, I was answering with 'your mom' because they wouldn't accept me waking up next to it.

Where did my allegiances lie? With anyone who wasn't a murderer, liar, or asshole. 

At one point one of the guys threatened to beat me up if I didn't answer. "I am answering, and I'm answering honestly man! Look, I just didn't want to die in space. You have my Gundam. What else do you want?"

Yeah, that didn't work. Burroughs apparently wasn't willing to have me beaten. Thank god. I wasn't sure what I'd do at that point. Everyone thinks they'd be brave in an interrogation, but that's bullshit. And I kept remembering that these guys were… well. Soldiers. Not the most merciful ones at a guess. And I got the sense the Geneva Convention didn't exist in space.

At least I got to use the bathroom. Turns out old rations go right through the digestive system.

For three days, my interrogators and I drove each other crazy. I got punched in the face once. That fucking sucked. Kinda helped as well, weirdly. Threats of violence are worse than actual violence, sometimes. A throbbing pain in my face was better.

On day four, something changed.

Whenever my interrogators entered and left the room and saluted the guards, they would say 'Sieg Zeon' with impressive zeal. Day four, when the door opened, I heard the guards say it. But no one else.

Instead, a woman who looked like the 'hot scientist' trope brought to life floated in. She was carrying a tablet, had a stern look on her face, and stared at me for a moment.

"Well… I really hope you're here for nice reasons," I said, sighing. "My current interrogators are kinda mean."

The lady frowned, moving to sit down across from me. Someone followed her, a big soldier guy, but not one of my interrogators. A guard then. "Is that why you have a bruise?"

"I do?" I touched my face and flinched at the pain. "Yep, that sucks. Could be worse though. You guys haven't started taking knives to me at least."

She looked a little uncomfortable, shifting in her chair a bit. "R-Right. Well. I am Karla Mitchum, a researcher working on this vessel. I have been given permission to speak with you in hopes of understanding your Mobile Suit."

"Ah, gotcha. You want to get into Barbatos' pants and he isn't budging. Sure, I can help."

She blushed and scowled at me. I grinned, feeling just a bit better. "So what do you want to know?"

"Well. First, can you tell me about how you interface with it?"

"The Alaya-Vijnana system?" I asked.

"Is that what you call it?"

"It's what the guys who made it call it. It's an organic man-machine interface." I leaned forward, pulling my white shirt off my back enough to show the weird ports now sitting in the center of my spine. Three small holes along the small of my back between the scapula.

I felt some fingers run along the edges of said holes, Karla whispering to herself. "Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating."

"Hey now, buy me dinner first."

I put my shirt down and felt amused when she blushed again. 

"S-Sorry. My specialty is man-machine interfaces, so seeing something so advanced is exciting. How long did the surgery take?"

"No clue. I woke up like this," I said honestly.

Unlike my previous interrogators, who seemed to consider my honest answers to be me being glib, Karla looked more fascinated. "Someone did that to you without you noticing?"

"Yeah. I woke up with the ability to interface with a giant superweapon and no answers." I said honestly.

"And how old is the Barbatos?" She asked excitedly.

"Uh…" I wracked my brain. "Like… 300 years old? I think?"

"Fuuuuck," the big guard whispered.

"Three hundre-" Karla whispered before cutting herself off, shocked. 

"Yeah. Kinda crazy to think about," I mumbled. 

"We thought it was over 200 at minimum."

"Technically you were right?" I said helpfully. "Anyways. I guess there are a few things different from what you're used to for the Barbatos."

"So many!" Karla held out a tablet, looking much happier than she had been when she entered. "Okay. So when you interface with the Gundam, can you describe-"

Yeah uh… Karla had questions. A lot of questions that I didn't have answers for. How the frame of it worked, the paint, the sensors, the power reactors. I tried to answer, but come on man. I could barely build a PC. A Mobile Suit was out of my wheelhouse.

Oddly, my lack of answers seemed to excite her just as much.

When it was over, we must have been talking for over an hour. The last thing she asked was simple.

"Can you allow others to pilot it?"

"Sure. But you know. Not as well," I pointed at my back. "The AV system is as close as you can get to making a human a Newtype. And the Gundam Barbatos was made for it. Another pilot could move it if you installed purely manual controls, but it's like giving a baby a katana. In theory a baby can swing it, but it just won't match up."

As far as I knew at least.

Still, the answer seemed to satisfy Karla enough. She hesitated though. "I… should let you know. That some of our people want to open up your back to study your modifications."

"Which would kill me."

She winced. "We informed them. Burroughs forbade it, but it may be a possibility they will… revisit."

"...All that, and I didn't even get my burger," I said with a chuckle. "Still, better than being lost in space to eventually starve to death. Barely. So, mind if I ask my own questions?"

"Oh? Uh, of course."

"What year is it?"

She hissed in a breath. Which, yeah, is an understandable response to a question like that. "Oh, it's UC 79."

"Really? Huh. One Year War, then," I mumbled to myself. I wasn't an expert, but I know how long UC's first arc went.

"One Year!?" Karla squeaked in a high pitch, the guard looking just as shocked.

Oh. Oh right, damnit.

"Uh, forget you heard that. So how come all the soldiers here have prosthetics?"

Giving me a look that told me she absolutely wasn't going to forget what I just said, she swallowed. "Um, yes. The soldiers of this Division are all those who lost limbs in the course of battle. Because of that, they were sent here. The Living Dead Division. It's a unit that defends Side 4, Moore, from Federation forces, but we also test the Reu-"

Karla stopped herself. "Um…"

"Oh, right, classified. No worries." I said, though I felt that I understood the gist. "Well, it sounds kinda dope. Helping soldiers with prosthetics continue to fight on. And maybe lead to others getting more advanced prosthetics too."

I was mostly talking to myself towards the end. I always thought cyberlimbs were cool. Imagine getting your arm cut off, but then a Gundam arm replaces it. Dope as hell.

"Whatever else I think of Zeon, at least this project sounds good."

Karla smiled just a bit. For some reason, I think she understood me. It was a nice conversation really. I learned a bit more about where I was, who I was with, and some of the public lay of the land.

Karla didn't question my lack of knowledge on current events. She seemed to take it with more excitement than anything.

We ended the conversation calmly, she headed out. And later, to my surprise, someone came by with my lunch. A burger. A crappy microwaved burger. It tasted like heaven.

She was a real sweetheart, that Karla.

The next day, her boyfriend died.

I didn't find out about that for a while. But oddly, things did get better for me. Burroughs kept people from beating me to death for existing, and as time went on it became clear my interrogators didn't see me as an enemy, but an oddity.

And then Karla came back. Alone. With a question.

"Could you kill someone for me?"

Chapter 4

"..." I leaned forward, confused. "Kill someone? That's a bit out of nowhere. Why?"

She looked different. Like the color had been washed out of her. Something had happened. Something huge. "I need someone killed. Can you do it?"

"Anyone can kill, under the right circumstances," I said. "But I need to know those circumstances. Like why you need them killed."

"..." She lowered her gaze, looking more exhausted, clutching her wrist in one hand. "My… Hoover Aisla. Someone I cared about. He was killed by an Earth Federation soldier."

"...I'm sorry," I said honestly. "That fucking sucks."

She laughed. A small bitter thing. "Yeah, well… I want the man who killed him to die."

I stared at her. Then I shook my head. "Can't."

"You-"

"As in literally. I can't. I'm a prisoner, remember," I floated upwards in the zero-g and crossed my arms, sighing. "Sorry. Don't you have friends who can do that for you though?"

"None with Gundams." Karla said.

"Ah… Right." I looked her over. "Gundam. Word's gained a lot of meaning over the years."

Karla snapped her eyes to me again. I caught onto my mistake. Years. To her, Gundam was a machine that had been in active service for a few months, maybe. I never knew how Zeon really felt about it when I said out of pocket things like that, Karla least of all.

"Gundam means a few important things though. A superweapon. A god in some weirder cultures. An end to war in one bullshit corner of reality. But I like the Barbatos because of one thing."

I sighed. "Gundam Barbatos is a demon. And a wolf. A weapon for killing and a protector of the pack. That's what it means to me. Something simple, wonderful, and brutal. Zeon and Earth got so obsessed with killing each other and grabbing power that they don't care about normal people. So that's my long winded way of leading to this."

"I'm not an assassin. I'm a guy with a connection to a big robot, and I'm not even allowed to use my big robot. Might never get the chance." I narrowed my eyes. "I'll do whatever I can, Karla. But I'm useless in here. I might not have it in me to kill someone. And I don't even think I can promise I'll be on any side but the one of the people I give a shit about."

"You surrendered to Zeon. Would you fight for them?"

"I surrendered because my other choice was floating in space eating and shitting out crappy food while fighting to the death. Zeon, the Federation. I don't believe in them," I grumbled, tapping my fingers on my arm. "Wish I could just make my own side. With blackjack and- uhhhh," I stopped, coughing. "Well. Look. I'll fight for what I believe and for who I believe in. If I get the chance."

"...So you won't do it."

"Can't do it. Because of circumstances. Can't promise it. But if you need a guy who can move a demon wolf of a robot to have your back, I'll be here."

Despite how glib I was being, I was being honest. There wasn't much I could do. I wasn't a soldier, killer, or assassin. I was trapped in a cell. And even if I got out, I wasn't about to be all 'rah-rah' for the Zeon empire. Or principality, or circus, whatever their grouping was.

All I could promise was what Barbatos promised. Protect the pack. Whatever it took.

Karla stared at me. Then she turned and left, floating into the hallway as the door sealed behind her.

I floated there in the silence for a moment before closing my eyes and leaning back. "The worst part of being in custody… is the boredom. You feel the same way, Barbatos?"

No answers came.

Burroughs

As the man in charge of the Living Dead Division, Burroughs tried his best. He was not perfect. Not even great. But he tried to be level-headed and decent as a soldier could be.

That said, he decided that he hated Desert.

It wasn't the fault of the man himself. Desert, despite being frustrating, was rather easy-going as prisoners went. He joked with his interrogators, but he was never rude. He didn't give full answers, but he wasn't overly aggressive in his defiance. He ate his food, slept, and when he asked for books for the boredom, Burroughs sent them in.

Desert's issue was his mere existence.

If Burroughs wasn't in Side 4, far away from where much of the conflict of the Zeon-Earth war (He refused to think the words One Year War) was blazing, Desert would have been in a Zeon prison already. But because he was so low on the ladder, ironically that made him the best person to hold Desert and the Barbatos for study.

Because everyone else was fighting like dogs for the right. Zeon was not, in truth, a pyramid. It was a mountain with dozens of teams all scrambling to climb to the top while constantly

Thus, the right to 'keep' Desert and Barbatos had become a small war. Any information that Burroughs sent was combed over with intense focus, the Living Dead Divisions every move was studied, and he and his men had faced bribery attempts the likes of which he'd never imagined. Burroughs had even been sexually propositioned by several people, if he would only allow their scientists to meet his newest tenants.

Part of the issue was the White Devil. That Gundam, the original, was wreaking havoc. Its pilot was said to be young. But the Gundam that had been fighting legends like Char Aznable without dying, kept facing and beating Zeon's best. The White Base and the Gundam, flying through space and winning. Over, and over. The more that original Gundam won, the more Desert and Barbatos' legend grew. Without even doing anything. Just by being a pilot of a Gundam.

Ironic that by surrendering to him, Desert caused Burroughs more headaches than if the Gundam Pilot had become an enemy.

Thank god that none of those issues came about till after they went to A Baoa Qu. A Baoa Qu, the largest and most powerful space fortress of the Principality of Zeon, was where they had gathered to listen to Commander Gihren Zabi speak and congratulate the troops. Karla had even won a medal.

Two things followed. First, when Desert heard about it, his immediate response was 'Wait, the Hitler guy?' Looking that up later made Burroughs draw some very uncomfortable comparisons.

Second, after Burroughs and his division left after leaving their reports on Desert and the Barbatos, the fighting over what was held in his ship began.

At this point, the only ones Burroughs hadn't heard from were higher ups like Kycillia Zabi, the de facto princess of Zeon. 

Returning to the Thunderbolt Sector, as many called Side 4 due to the constant storms surrounding the debris field, Burroughs had been hoping for just a bit of rest. To go back to defending his sector with his men. He hadn't been able to give Desert to someone else, but at least he hadn't stepped on the wrong toes and could go back to his job.

Then a jazz playing bastard ruined all his plans.

Desert

"It's a heavily armored, highly mobile, Mobile Suit. A weapon our enemy has brought in to take back the Thunderbolt Sector. It killed three of our sniper Zaku's, dodging our shots without a hint of trouble. And now we're being told to kill it. By any means necessary."

I floated in front of Burroughs, my arms behind my head as he spoke. Behind me, two soldiers watched my every move. Burroughs had video paused behind him, displaying a very familiar face and crest.

"They sent a Gundam to take you guys out? That's almost a compliment," I said casually.

"Not. Funny." Burroughs spat. "I'm having my snipers prepare to take him out in a coordinated assault. But there are no guarantees with a Gundam. So I'm asking you to help us."

"...Are you serious?" I asked, now genuinely befuddled. "I thought you were going to ship me off to the space gulags. Now you want me to be a soldier?"

"I want you to be a last resort." Burroughs said reluctantly. "What we've planned should be able to kill anything, Gundam or not. But if that doesn't work… I've been told to use all tools at our disposal. The research we've done into the Barbatos has accelerated our program, but until my superiors can decide who exactly can make the best use of what we've found," AKA, once those idiots stopped fighting over who got to get the shiny Gundam. "The Gundam Barbatos is the most powerful Mobile Suit in our fleet. And it's gathering dust in a hanger."

From what I'd heard, a few people had tried to pilot it. But my trick with the operating system had effectively locked them out. Like giving a caveman a cell phone. He might understand a few things, but he wasn't about to turn it on and figure out your pin number to get to your accounts and start playing Angry Birds.

"Who says I want to?" I said.

"Karla," Burroughs snapped. When I cocked my head, he sighed. "She said you promised her that you would try to kill the man who killed Hoover Aisla, if given the chance."

Wha- I explicitly had not promised that. I'd explained why that was impossible. Dude.

Well, whatever. I was getting the chance to do something other than read Shakespeare and mope in a cell while working out from the boredom and worry.

Also, working out in space was hard. No gravity.

"Fine. I'll do it." Yeah, I agreed to join a war out of boredom.

"If we even need you," Burroughs said.

"...Sorry." When he looked confused, I explained. "About your guys. The three Zaku pilots. I'm sorry you lost them."

"Hmph," he crossed his arms. "I thought you didn't like Zeon."

"I don't like the political figures spending people's lives as currency. I still care for the people themselves, man."

Burroughs glared at me. For a moment, just one, I thought I saw his lips flicker upwards, but I must have imagined it.

"Well. My hope is that I will have no need for you. We'll stay in close however. They are under orders to send a distress signal the instant things get to be too much for them. Or, if need be, for you to defend the Dried Fish itself." He then hesitated. "And I have been told that, in the case that you attempt to run, a series of explosives has been placed inside the Gundam Barbatos."

"Are you-"

"I didn't place any." Burroughs said.

I stopped, blinking. He sighed. "I'm not a good man. But I will do right by my men."

"Oh." I didn't know what to say about that. So I focused on the next part. "Can I pilot the Barbatos a bit first? Run some exercises to get my bearings?"

"We have a couple of days, so yes. But not without an escort." Burroughs said. "I have the perfect person for it. Daryl?"

He floated in, his prosthetic legs glinting in the light. A skinny guy, handsome, with poofy black hair and eyes somewhere between brown and red. He saluted Burroughs, then looked at me almost lazily. 

"Daryl is one of our best. He'll be escorting you in a Zaku II. If you leave the airspace around the Dried Fish, he will snipe you out of the stars."

"Gotcha…"

He couldn't really make me sad with threats of death though. I was going back into the beeg robit. Woo!

In the hanger, Daryl watched me put on my space suit, that almost lazy look in his eyes all the while. I felt almost relieved as my suit surrounded me, the back portion fitting neatly over the nubs on my back.

"Do they hurt?" Daryl asked.

"My AV nubs? I mean, they itch sometimes. Nothing too bad." I glanced down at his legs. "How about you?"

"Hm… sometimes."

I scratched my cheek. "Well. Gotta say, I have mad respect for you." When he gave me an odd look, I tried to explain. "I mean… you could have retired. But you're still fighting. I can respect that. Whatever it is you're fighting for."

I zipped up my jacket.

"What are you fighting for?"

I snapped my head up to look at Daryl. His laziness had disappeared, replaced with an odd intensity.

"Huh… cause my options are being in a cell bored out of my mind or this?" I looked down at my helmet on my lap. My own reflection seemed unimpressed. "...No. I want to fight for what's right. Even if the world doesn't allow me to."

Daryl didn't say anything as I put my helmet on and floated up. He just led the way to the hangers. 

As we went, I noticed a lot of Zaku soldiers and techs about. They filled the hallways, pretending to talk, work, or just directly staring at me. When we entered the hangers themselves, more people floated about. I moved with Daryl up until I was in front of the Barbatos again.

The Gundam seemed to be giving me a bit of an admonishing look. "Yeah, you were right Barbatos," I floated forward to place a hand on the Gundam's forehead. "But we'll find our path. One way or another. For now, let's put up with this."

He seemed to accept it. Or I was doing the human thing of giving personality to a machine? Either way.

"Desert," Karla's voice drew my attention. She was floating down, stopping to give Daryl a quick smile. She had a space suit on like Daryl and I, to my surprise, and a large man in a suit of his own was following her. "I'll be overseeing your exercise."

"Oh?" I glanced at Daryl, who looked surprised as I was. "Hope I'm worth seeing in action."

She gave me a serious look. "I hope so as well. This will be the first time I get to see the Barbatos in action. I'll be taking every reading I can. Hopefully, with these readings, I can make a breakthrough on the Reuse Psycho Device."

"Ah. Well then, I'll try to impress you," I turned back to the Barbatos and floated into the cockpit. Daryl floated towards a Zaku next to the Barbatos, entering it as we did. We gave Karla a wave as our cockpits closed up. 

I rested my back in my seat. And the AV system reconnected me to the Gundam Barbatos. I sighed in relief, turning the operating system on as quickly as I could. And reminding myself that, the next time I turned off the Barbatos, to use a different 'lock' on it. If they were going to record me piloting, they weren't going to find a way to take my Gundam for free.

Gravity came back. After days in Zero G, the feeling of that weight was hefty. But also, kind of a relief.

Then… the AV system opened up. And Barbatos and I were one.

"Heh," I lifted my hands up, clenching and unclenching my fists. "Back home again."

"Amazing!" Karla's voice said from the radio in my cockpit. "These readings-"

"Hold up," I noticed something on the files of my Gundam. Something I hadn't seen before. "Did someone mess with my files?"

"Oh. No, not at all. We did try to access them, but other than confirming many were audio files, we didn't have any luck."

Audio files?

I opened the files. Then I smiled.

"Oh… oh… Okay."

I pressed on one. And some familiar music began to play.

https://youtu.be/wxZTcSwpXyc?list=RDwxZTcSwpXyc

With the familiar tunes playing along, I smiled just a bit. "Music. My music. From my favorite artists."

Whoever dropped me in, they gave me more than Barbatos.

"You like music?" Daryl asked.

"Who doesn't?" 

A pair of railing under my feet began to grind and shift, moving the Gundam Barbatos and Daryl's Zaku until we faced open space. I tapped the controls, playing around with them. Barbatos/I raised my/our/his head. 

"Are you ready?" Burroughs asked over the sound of music filling my cabin.

"Sure. But I'm the one who does the callout."

"The callout?"

I grinned as the railing stopped, letting me point towards space.

"Gundam Barbatos… LAUNCH!" I roared as I fired the Gundam Barbatos' thrusters.

The Barbatos moved. I left the Dried Fish in seconds and came to a stop miles away. The ship floated in the distance now. Daryl's Zaku came out moments later, carrying a big looking gun. A sniper rifle, at a guess.

I looked around. We were surrounded by the debris of Side 4. But this time, I knew what it was. Moore, a colony that had been destroyed by Zeon. Which was horrifying and sad.

"I'm gonna fly around, stretch my legs." I blitzed towards the Dried Fish, flying past it, then around it, then back to gently tap the top of Daryl's head with a clawed finger, front flipping over him before zooming forward again.

Flying felt amazing. Even without the feeling of the air around me, it was still the culmination of a dream. Who hasn't wanted to fly? To use nothing but your body to zip between stars and around debris, lighting cracking around us.

I hit a patch of debris feet first and looked around. My sword rested on my back, so reaching it was easy. Swinging it out I marked several bits of random debris floating in the storm mentally. At least, it was mentally, before the hud highlighted them.

"Barbatos… you feeling pent up as well?" I asked.

The Gundam didn't answer. So instead, I hefted my sword and flew forward. I smashed through a piece of street with my sword, then a big chunk of apartment, the concrete flying about everywhere. My sword didn't have a hint of trouble with destroying them. I stopped to watch a teddy bear float past from the remains of the building, then moved onto the next bit of debris. 

An overhand swing, a sideslash, a simple thrust, it all felt so good. Like limbering up my muscles after a long day sitting down. 

I aimed for the final piece, a chunk miles long, and began swinging through it, chopping it apart. I came to a stop with a full field of destroyed concrete and metal behind me, sweating heavily and panting.

"That… was fun." I turned to look back at the Dried Fish. "So! You guys like what you see?"

The radio was strangely silent.

Burroughs

Burroughs swallowed. He'd forgotten. He'd gotten used to Desert in a cell. To the Barbatos in a hanger. 

And now, on the bridge of his ship, his crew watched as the Gundam Barbatos flew faster than he'd ever imagined a Mobile Suit ever moving, destroying portions of debris as large as buildings. And ending by swinging his sword over and over to destroy a city block.

It was just concrete and metal, not hardened Mobile Suit steel. But the speed, strength, agility. The Gundam Barbatos didn't move like a machine. It moved like an animal, a nearly organic monster. A demon.

Burroughs had forgotten. That just because Desert had surrendered, didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

"Tell me you got something useful," Burroughs asked Karla. When she didn't answer, he looked over.

Her mouth was open, the tablet in her hands streaming data and going ignored. She was staring out the window at the Barbatos, which was flying over to them with uncomfortable speed.

"Karla."

"Huh?" She looked over at him, jumped, and looked down at her tablet. "Um, yes. The Gundam's operating systems are still a mystery to us, but our basic analysis is working. The Gundam is working well beyond the abilities of any Mobile Suit we've ever recorded. And what we're registering about the link between Desert and Barbatos-" She stopped, staring at the tablet, up in the distance as Barbatos leaned down to look into the cockpit.

It was unnerving. A pair of green eyes staring into the bridge from mere feet away. A demon who could tear the ship apart with its bare hands, staring into the window.

"What are you doing, Desert?" Burroughs asked gruffly, trying to not show his fear.

Daryl was still able to snipe the Barbatos. He would be able to drive a hole into the cockpit. In theory.

"Oh, you guys are okay," The Barbatos drifted back. "I was trying to talk to you, but no one was answering. So, anything else? You guys want me to dance? I can do a mean waltz."

"No need. Just-" he almost ordered him. Then he met eyes with Barbatos. And swallowed. Unnerving. Not like a Zaku or a GM, or any other Mobile Suit that Burroughs had ever seen. It moved more smoothly, organically. And that made it more terrifying. Burroughs pulled back. "Please, Desert, come back into the hanger."

"Aw. Can I just, you know, play around a bit? Maybe Daryl and I can have a sparring match?"

"...Daryl?"

"Hm… okay. Sure."

"Awesome! Here, we can just do some hand-to-hand."

The Zaku II and Barbatos flew up into space, where the Gundam Barbatos threw some playful punches. The Zaku blocked the jabs on its forearms, then threw a punch towards the Barbatos, which parried it. 

Daryl was the better pilot. That was a relief. But it didn't matter. Barbatos was clearly faster, more flexible, and stronger. Even when Daryl could predict and respond to Desert's piloting, he just couldn't match him.

Karla let out a sound. Burroughs made a similar sound. Terrifying. But… nominally. This was good. Because Desert had agreed to help them. And the terrifying Gundam was on their side… for now.

Chapter 5

"I get to move around the ship instead of being stuck in a cell?" I asked, truly surprised. Karla was leading me through the halls, a couple of big soldier guys following along behind me. The way people got around the ship was just like I'd seen in the shows. A handle would pop out of the wall, you grabbed it, and it would pull you through the halls at high speed to your destination.

It was cool, getting pulled around in zero g. Still, it also highlighted how much better Karla and the soldiers were at maneuvering about in zero g than I was. I preferred the Barbatos and it's anti-grav, man.

"I thought I was still a prisoner?" I asked as we passed a group of soldiers. I was still in my spacesuit. Just in case, you know?

"I think the fact you didn't attack when you went into the Barbatos gave you more leeway," Karla said. She seemed lighter. Less weighed down. Still sad, but I think the fact I'd been given back my superweapon and promised her revenge helped.

Well, 'promised' in quotation marks. I had technically just broken down why I couldn't help, only for all those reasons to disappear. Which was good enough for me.

I liked Karla. She seemed like a good 'un.

"Here," she led me to a section of the ship that had two walls of plants. Karla reached out and plucked a tomato off a vine, floating it over to me. I took a hold of it. "Try it."

I took a bite, smiling just a bit at the huge amount of flavor. Fresh fruit. Something I really took for granted before getting sent into space… Wait.

"Is a tomato a fruit or a vegetable?" I asked, finishing the small tomato.

"A fruit because it develops from the ovary of a flowering plant and contains seeds." Karla explained.

"Wait, really!?" One of the soldier guys asked. The other one nudged his shoulder. "What? I just thought they were vegetables."

"We're all learning," I said, smiling at the vines around us. "This is cool, btw. I never think of military vessels having things like hydroponic gardens."

"They don't have them where you come from?" Karla asked with a bit too much casualness.

"They do. But military vehicles don't usually have them. From what I know at least. This is better."

Karla hummed, looking more intrigued than I felt was needed. She motioned for me to follow again. While we moved, she spoke. "There are a number of theories of your origins."

"I've gathered."

"Some people think you're an experiment made by a secret organization dedicated to destroying war."

What? Like Gundam 00? 

"Most of us think you might be from the future," Karla didn't look over at me.

"I hope not. A future that still needs Gundam isn't exactly a perfect one," I teased. Karla didn't say anything. After some uncomfortable silence, I spoke again. "Then again, a Gundam that's over three hundred years old is a good sign."

"What do you mean?"

"Well. A weapon of war that didn't get replaced can mean either it's so good that all other weapons are obsolete, or that they just didn't see the need to make more. The latter thought is nice."

I was heavily implying the latter. And I was lying. Of course I was. Still, Karla did seem to smile just a bit.

We entered the bridge of the ship, where Burroughs glanced over at me before turning away.

Actually, a lot of the crew seemed to find it hard to look at me. Huh.

"Karla… Desert," Burroughs said firmly. "Daryl's group should arrive by now. Will you be ready to sortie if they need assistance?"

I looked over at Karla. "I think the man asked you a question."

"Pfft!" Karla held back from laughing by just a hair, coughing. 

"Desert-" Burroughs growled. 

"Hey, I'll be ready. Just let me know when," I floated up alongside him, looking out at the stars.

"Is it too much to ask for some professionalism from you?" He asked me with some exasperation.

"I mean, yeah. I'm not a soldier, remember?"

He grumbled but said nothing else. 

"Show the captain some respect!" His first mate, a tall woman with slightly brutal features, snapped at me. 

"I did show him respect. Burroughs is cool, even if he is Zeon." I got some glares at that. "No offense guys. Federation sucks too."

Zeon just had more insane psychos in charge. Char and Gehrin worked overtime on being crazy.

The fleet continued to move through space, peaceful as-

Fire and light snapped out of the darkness as one of the ships in Burroughs fleet shattered apart under bursts of fire.

"CRACKA-BOOM!"

If I hadn't been floating, I would have fallen over out of shock. Who-

"Feddie fleet, port side in front!" One of the crew shouted.

"Damn, it's a sneak attack!" Burroughs snapped. "Desert!"

I was already moving, rushing towards the hallway as quickly as I could. "Karla, come on!" 

"O-Okay!" The explosions began and the ship shook like a giant had a hold of it. The scientist followed after me and we grabbed one of those handles along the wall, rocketing through the halls. "Wait, why am I following you?"

"Because you need to get somewhere safer than the bridge, now go!" I snapped.

"Right!" She shouted, taking a different hallway from me.

I entered the hanger at top speed. One of the mechanics saw me. "Gundam Pilot! We have your Mobile Suit read-!"

"Fucking move!" I shouted, moving towards Barbatos instead of politely listening. "Get somewhere safe!"

My heart pounded in my chest as I entered Barbatos. A part of the hanger above exploded in fire, and I felt my throat fill up with fear as I climbed into my Gundam. I entered the seat and tightened my hands around the controls. The cockpit shut closed and Barbatos came alive around me.

A piece above me fell towards Barbatos, a long structure support about to stab me. I caught it in mid-air, tossing it aside. 

I moved forward, ripping myself out of the moorings around me and shifting towards a Zaku that had fallen over, stealing its gun for myself and rocketing out of the Dried Fish.

In open space, chaos reigned. Something about the particles the ships emitted made it possible for sound, so I could hear the explosions, the constant fire of ballistic and beam weapons, and the metal being torn apart. 

The Federation fleet came from the port side of the Dried Fish, a series of large war vessels that were spilling out Mobile Suits.

The 'Jims' as some friends of mine called the GM's, were functional looking mechs, with white paint in contrast to the green of the Zakus. I flew towards the nearest one, which had a pair of shields. The GM, seeing me, lifted it's gun.

Slow. So slow. But even as I blitzed past him, I noticed how the other ships and mobile suits fired on each other, leaving death on a scale I had never seen. I had to get this done. It wouldn't matter how powerful I was if everyone died.

I aimed behind me as I moved past the GM, firing the machine gun I'd purloined into the back of the GM, leaving it to explode behind me. I moved to the next GM, flipping over it and firing into it's head. The others on the battlefield noticed me. Some fired at me. I moved fast enough to be a hard target. But when I did get hit by lucky shots? Beam weapons bounced off, while bullets did the same.

I swallowed as I fired the gun in my hand again, destroying another mobile suit. Killing another person. Move. Move. Finish it. "Okay. Barbatos?"

With a swipe of my hand, music started playing. 

Doom Eternal OST - The Only Thing They Fear Is You (Mick Gordon) [Doom Eternal Theme]

With the music pumping loudly, I gripped the controls and went to work.

Ost Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans - Battle

Desert Setting

I was in a warehouse in the middle of the desert, with a dinky kitchen, ratty bed, a single pistol and knife, and enough tools to work on the thing. As well as a manual and a beat to fuck tv that got two channels. Not exactly the Four Seasons.

But it did have a single manual, a big ass robot, and enough food to let me focus. Dry food, things that would last in the desert, but food. 

At some point, I would run out of food and water though. I had woken up in the desert, in that beat to hell warehouse, sweating during the day even in the shade, freezing my ass off at night. So after three days of stress and confusion, I got to work.

Yes, three days. I woke up in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a giant robot and no answers. I needed time to freak out.

My plan was simple. Fix up the big robot. Then pilot it to civilization. Step 3, profit. Somehow.

It was a better plan than eating my way through my supplies and dying in the desert. I had no clue if it even was a real robot. But it had gears, it had pistons, and it had a strange power source in its torso that made me nervous to see glowing.

Tab 3

Outline Plans:

Join up with a crew, probable the Zeon folks specific to Sector 4

Make my own crew, with a focus on people helping each other live better lives in space and on Earth rather than being some kind of evil empire

End up making a faction that lasts and remains at least nominally good, sure to go corrupt after I die and enough years pass.

Barbatos enters and defeats pirates, who get picked up by Zeon, who interact with Barbatos. 

With little to no options thanks to his lack of knowledge, he joins up with them, letting them study his Gundam in return for food, shelter, and permission to keep piloting his Gundam. 

Desert meets the Living Dead Division, noting the obvious lack of certain limbs, but also the fact they act more like soldiers rather than raging psychopaths as he might be used to.

The list of things different between the Barbatos and machines of the main setting. Also things that are needed to improve it.

Ahab Reactors, which are powerful, highly efficient fusion reactors

Entirely Different Operating System thanks to being made in a different universe

Gundam Barbatos has very different materials, build philosophy, and modularity from normal