Project PHAETON 19 (Patreon)

Commissioned by RoyalTwinFangs

Project PHAETON

Chapter 19

-VB-

Noctis had to make a choice. 

When the colony first landed, he had to prioritize who got his aid. As much as it pained him to ignore the very sites and the surrounding regions where the pieces of the colony landed. 

Japan, Vietnam, and Ireland were right out. Those lands were still burning and drowning. The surrounding regions were getting swamped as well. 

The British Isles was half broken from the impact, drowning from tsunamis, and unable to put out the literal firestorm burning through their west coast. France was also impacted along with Norway, Germany, and Spain. However, they had the infrastructure necessary to weather the storm. 

Vietnam was a wasteland after the impact. Specifically, the big piece had landed right in the middle of their country, so the country was split in half and burning in both directions. The impact also caused earthquakes, wildfires, and tsunamis. Philippines, as a result, was getting tsunami’ed from both the northeast and the northwest. Laos, China, and Thailand were moving to help but it was limited. 

Japan was the isolated case among them all. 

Even though it had been close to two hundred years, the enmity between Unified Koreas, China, and Japan remained. China was also struck by the same tsunami that struck Japan and was “too busy” helping Vietnam to help Japan. The Koreans tried to help but their own coasts were struck.

Noctis made his choice.

He landed on the eastern coast of Japan’s main island, Honshu, and sent his ships out to rescue people. The aid materials were distributed as quickly as possible while his flagship’s onboard fabricators, a closely guarded technology of House Caelum, worked to produce any parts the people needed. 

And then the Zeonites landed on Kyushu and began their conquest. 

It wasn’t enough that they caused the biggest apocalypse in human history from afar, they wanted to get up close and kill people, too. 

However, he couldn’t take charge of a foreign population or military, not when he was officially here only to provide aid. 

“What should we do?” he muttered to himself while in a meeting room with the other captains and commanders of his squadron, excluding those who were out and about rescuing people from tsunami affected areas. 

“We can’t jump into combat on behalf of the Earthlings,” one of the commanders, Rien Kanik, spoke up. “As much as all of this is a tragedy, we do not have the necessary ground force to prosecute any campaign.”

“So we just leave them to die?” someone else asked. 

“We are the military arm of House Caelum,” Commander Rien narrowed his eyes. “Tragedy of others may garner our sympathy but not our arms. We exist by the grace of Lord Zeyus.”

Rien was a fanatic follower of father. 

Like many others across the League, Rien had been “shipped in” from Earth by people who didn’t want “undesirables” “polluting” their land. Rien had been a kid like Noctis when he first arrived on Ceres, and had been taken care of by father and their house. And without meaning to, created a cult following among the immigrants who could not imagine a life or future without Father. 

And Noctis knew Rien’s personal history because Rien had told him. The man did not hide his history or his intentions: to either live to see the glory of the Phaeton League and House Caelum or die trying. 

Noctis did not find it disturbing then and did not find it disturbing now. 

“Then what should we do?” Commander Assa Meindakiili asked. The black woman sat across the Rien.

Rien glanced at her. 

If Rien was the fanatic, then Assa was the pragmatist. She was the third generation of one of the original colonists from the Jupiter Fleet. 

“We do what we are here to do in the Japanese Archipelago. We fight if they bring it to us. We do not go looking for it,” Rien replied.

She didn’t deny this. It was the best option for them right now.

Yes, Noctis had a few mobile suits he could deploy. No, they were not made for ground combat because ground combat was never something the Phaeton League had to worry about. 

But Noctis wanted to do something to help the people. 

Could he print weapons? Yes. But what would infantry weapons do against mobile suits? Maybe if the suits had been smaller, then maybe such weapons might be worth printing and smuggling to the frontlines in Kyushu. But infantry needed, at a minimum, anti-armor explosives to take out mobile suits. Most importantly, a mobile suit was a fast walking fortress compared to any infantry formation. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Direct support was not possible long term. Even short term, really. 

But sitting here and doing nothing would be morale breaking. 

What could he do…? 

…

“I need to talk to the house lord.”

Everyone immediately jolted in place before quickly standing up, bowing, and leaving the room.

He pulled out a flip phone. 

Why was it a flip phone? Father never said why.

He opened it and speed-dialed Father.

“... Morning, Noctis. How are you?”

“I’m fine, father. I just have a problem I need some help solving.”

And after that, he explained the situation he was in along with the regional Zeonite attack. 

“I didn’t expect them to attack Kyushu of all places, but it makes sense. It’s small enough of an island that allows them to have complete control over traffic, thus preventing them from being open to guerilla warfare and keeping their beachhead in East Asia easy to manage.”

“I assume so as well.”

“... Then you will have to arm the populace if you cannot fight yourself.”

He cringed. “Father, that is …”

“Does Zeon act like a reasonable enemy, Noctis?”

“No.”

“Then don’t be reasonable. The rules of war may as well have been taken to the airlock and spaced as far as everyone is concerned. I’ll be sending you some blueprints I want you to send to some of the local manufacturers. I’ll make sure it will be easy to make so that it will be easy to manufacture and use.”

“Mobile suits?” 

“As if. Mobile suits are not easy to manufacture. No, it will be something closer to what they were already manufacturing on their own.” A pause. “How are you doing, really?”

He grimaced. “Upset. This … this isn’t war. This entire thing feels like something else is the goal, not whatever Zeon claims that they want.”

“Did you think so as well?”

Noctis let out a sigh of relief. “So I wasn’t the only one thinking about it.”

“No. If they wanted a war of independence, then they could have just crippled the federation navy and that would have been good enough. The colony drop was wholly unnecessary.”

“Do you have any idea what it might be?”

“No.”

So even his father didn’t know everything. 

He huffed. “... Other than that, I am happy to be here, if only because I can do something about the mess.”

“... Don’t overextend, okay?””

He snorted. “I don’t take risks, Dad,” he replied more familiarly and petulantly. 

Father chuckled. “You always were a little too cautious about everything.”

“And look where that got me. It hasn’t failed me yet.”

“So it has. Just remember to be flexible at times. You never know when you have to gamble everything to make something work. Like I did.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “I know. I was there, remember?” he drawled. “Neither my sister or I appreciated having to eat insect bars for weeks.”

“And I keep saying sorry about it.”

“It is what it is,” he huffed. “... We really have come far, haven’t we?”

“We did.”

A bunch of self-exiles turned into perhaps the most powerful nation in all of the solar system. 

Hah! 

If someone told him that when he was but a little kid munching on those disgusting black bars, then he would have thought the person crazy. 

But now? 

Here they were. 

So powerful that they were interfering in the wars of giants. 

“Call me if you need anything, understood? Supplies, war materials, or even evacuation. I’m not above revealing my trump cards if it means keeping you safe.”

“Thanks, Father.”

-VB-

Manufacturing took time and time was money. It was why schematics and blueprints that minimized a product’s manufacturing time also significantly reduced the cost of the product. 

And Akamatsu Rie finally understood why the Phaeton League was considered so highly among machinists and industrialists. 

The schematic that the League’s military officer had delivered to her was … a beauty. 

“And you’ll just … give this to us?” she asked quietly. 

“Yes,” the man replied. He had a tattoo IV under his left eye. She saw in a documentary about the League that some of the clones of House Caelum tattooed their generation numbers. This was the first time she saw it in person. 

“Why?”

“Because we cannot help as we are.”

She blinked. 

“The admiral made it clear to all of us in the ‘aid’ fleet,” he began. “We are not equipped for extended ground combat. We do not have the numbers or the supplies needed for it.”

She grimaced.

So that was the case. 

“However, we can keep certain areas safe as we have been doing. And if you and your fellow machinists and manufacturers can make this so that you can protect yourselves against the Zeonites, then we can try to protect you as well.”

Rie stared down.

“You truly think these things can fight those … mobile suits that the Zeonites use?”

“A gun is a gun,” the clone snorted. “And these things are equipped with guns that can and will punch through mobile suit armor after a few times.”

She continued to stare down at the schematic along with the other machinists and factory owners from around eastern Honshu.

She knew that the bastards from Zeon had done something horrible, even if she couldn’t grasp it. But she’d seen it. The dark red mushroom clouds that dimly lit the night sky and the days after. Supposedly, one of those had been all the way in Vietnam and another on the other side of Honshu.

She hadn’t believed it, not until demands from the people got the Leaguers to release their orbital video stills of what they had witnessed. 

She had nightmares about it. 

What if it hadn’t landed in the ocean but in Japan? What if it landed in Korea? Either of those would have wiped out her nation and people. 

She dreamt of dying to a fiery fireball as big as her country.

It’s been over a week since the ground invasion had started, and Kyushu was slowly coming under the control of the same horrific people. 

“I’ll make it.”

People looked at her. Some of them looked scandalized while a few looked like they had needed someone to say it first. At least one person looked like they missed their chance to say it.

“As long as supplies get delivered, I’ll make it. If it puts bullets in those fucking Zeonites, then I’ll make them until my hands break,” she hissed out with a snarl. “Even if I have no relatives in Kyushu, it is still part of Nippon! And if we do not rise to defend our own people, then who is going to defend us?!” 

“Me, too,” the representative of Toyota stood up. “On behalf of Toyota Motors, even if it costs us for each of these ‘mobile workers’ we make, we will supply our people with them until the invaders are driven off of our islands!” 

Others began to clamor to show their support. 

And soon, someone began to chant. 

“Nippon Banzai!” 

The chant began to echo throughout the gym they had gathered for this discussion. It began as a disconnected cacophonous chant that slowly unified into a single phrase.

“Nippon Banzai!”