Tales from the Delgato

														Tales from the Delgato
											Short stories about the crew of the PZS Delgato

“Recon”
    “We’re being assigned to what!?” Corporal Berenzenovich had been ecstatic at his lance’s transfer to the PZS Delgato. He had never seen much of the Sol system, having been born on Mars, then having his family selected to board the Interstellar vessel, the NNZS “Springfield” in UC 0093, when he was still a toddler.

    Now he paced back and forth, the rest of his team; his fellow corporals Reno Menendez and Erina Schaffer, who was also a newtype, the Sargent Aaron Smith, and finally the Lance leader, 2nd Lieutenant Eric Zummen all looked at him because of his sudden outburst. Eric got up, and walked over to him.

    “Is there an Issue, Corporal?” John spun around to face his superior, and snapped to attention. “N-no sir. I’m just...a bit surprised that the Commodore would assign this lance to a Recon detachment is all.” The 2nd Lieutenant shook his head.

    “No, not all of us. You three corporals are being formed into a new Lance. We’re staying in this detachment with new transferees. Your new bunks are on the deck below. Your Zaku 3, Reno’s Hi-Zack 2 and Erina’s Jagd Doga have already been converted into Recon types.”

    He was taken aback a bit. However, he knew better than to complain any longer, and merely nodded. He looked back to the others, both of them just shrugged and began packing their things for the move. He did the same a minute later, and before long the three began making their way down the hall, holding onto their things as well as the wall mounted transport handles. A dedicated warship like the Delgato didn’t have the luxury of gravity generation, so all the crew was used to zero gravity.

    “John, you’re still mad about this.” Erina was the first to speak up. John would have replied in denial, but Erina was a newtype, and she could feel the emotion radiating off of him. “Yeah, no kidding! We were a fucking combat unit! Why the hell were we downgraded to fucking recon?! It’s bullshit!” She flinched back a bit, the emotions growing stronger off of Berenzenovich as he talked more about it.

    “Hey man, chill out. You’re messing with Erina. You know how she is.” Again, John was going to say something, but Reno was right. He could see her avoiding any kind of eye contact with him when he looked back.

    “You...you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just confused and surprised is all. I didn’t mean to freak you out Erina.” She looked back up at him and smiled. “It’s alright. I get how you feel. We’ll adjust to this. How about we go get some simulations in after we get our stuff in our new bunks?”

    He looked back at her, and returned the smile. “Honestly, that sounds like a great idea. It’d help blow off some steam, and it’s not like my Zaku 3’s losing any of its performance. Losing the head mounted weapons is gonna need some getting used to though.”

    The three young pilots were all in agreement. The ship wasn’t expected to begin it’s operation for several days, and getting practice in was a solid decision to get used to their modified Mobile Suits. However, when the ship took its first step back towards the Sol System, the wouldn’t be prepared for what came of it.
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“12”
    “Let’s try that again.” The three newly designated Recon pilots groaned, almost in unison. This was the 9th straight simulation they had done under Lieutenant Marida Cruz, and each one they had been picked off one by one by her.

    “LT, with all due respect, this is the most one sided engagement in history!” Corporal Berenzenovich was the first to speak, and Marida sat back in the cockpit of her Jagd Doga, already knowing most of what the three would say. Said complaints were, from Reno; “You’re a cyber newtype, Ma’am, we’re clearly outmatched.” and from Erina; “And it doesn’t help that my combat funnels were replaced with Recon ones. I can’t shoot anything with cameras!”

    She listened to each of their complaints, and would respond in kind. “Corporal Berenzenovich, you are in a Zaku 3 Recon type, however you treat the machine like a standard Proxima Type. It has superior sensors, and a more powerful main thruster. Corporal Menendez, you pilot a Hi-Zack 2 EWAC, but you charge into combat headfirst with little concern for the fact it has less armor and maneuverability then your Standard type machine. And Schaffer, you are still a newtype, but you’ve always relied too much on your funnels to pick off your targets.”

    She could feel them all begin to formulate a response, their collective emotions in constant flux from annoyance to pondering to mindless exhaustion. This was to be expected, they were still all teenagers after all, and not everyone could be a hardened veteran like the Commodore or herself, though she wished no one else would ever be like her, not for who she was, but for how she became who she was.

    “It’s alright to make mistakes in a simulation, so long as you learn from them. You can’t die in a training sim, but in real combat, you only need to mess up once. When we return to the Sol System, we don’t know what to expect, so we need to be prepared for anything.” John then replied, however it wasn’t what Cruz was expecting.

	“It’s because we’re all so young, isn’t it? That’s why the Commodore wants even us Recon pilots to drill so hard with combat sims against a pilot like you.” She nodded solemnly. “Yes. Commodore Michaels had a pilot in her lance your age when she joined the Newborn Neo Zeon movement. She’s seen too many kids like you die because of brashness and inexperience.”

    The three remained silent. It was then Reno who broke said silence. “I get it. She thinks we aren’t good enough.” To his surprise, the Cyber Newtype shook her head. “That’s not it. If she didn’t think you were good enough, you wouldn’t be on this ship in the first place. You all have potential, but it needs to be...honed.”

    The recon pilots began mulling the words over in their head, and eventually, it just clicked for them. “I understand now. Come on guys, we can do this!” Erina spoke, seemingly rejuvenated. The other two followed suit, and they were all nearly shocked to see Marida give a slight, but warm smile.

    “The parameters will be the same as last time, and I won’t be holding back. You will all have to use your suits to their fullest ability. I’ll leave it up to you as to how.” And with that, the simulation started. They lasted only 15 minutes, but it was longer than they had the past few sims. They were learning, correcting their mistakes and adjusting strategies every time. Finally, by simulation 23, they had finally beaten the Lieutenant, and they cheered as the sim ended. She was happy for them, while they still were far from ready for ture combat, they were on the path to improvement, and at the end of the day, that’s what mattered to her.
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“Held down by gravity”
    “NO! DON-” Commodore Sara Michaels looked around her room. A cold sweat formed around her, and she breathed heavily. Everything from the evacuation had come down on her at once like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t the first time, and likely wouldn’t be the last time this would happen.

    The year was UC 0092, and 2nd Lieutenant Michaels sat on the edge of the exposed cockpit of her MSN-04B looking out over the sunset. It was almost picturesque, the reds and oranges of the sky mixing with the sandy horizon of the Mojave desert her platoon was assigned to guard. The spaceport in the Sierra Nevada had been taken by Newborn Neo Zeon forces a few months prior, right around the time she had joined up. She’d rizen through the ranks because she was a damn good MS pilot, and a survivor.

    Three different superior officers she’d been through, all of them dead. Now she was leading her own lance of MS, and today was the day. In a few short hours, if all went well the Neo Zeon forces in the area would be rocketing back into space, ready to engage the Federation in their element. For now though, she’d be catching some sleep.

    Two hours passed before the scream of rocketfire woke her abruptly from her sleep. The chatter of Geara Doga machine gun fire began in report, and the sound of Beam rifles too filled the air. Sara sprang up, and activated her Sazabi B type, and with only a scant moment to spare the command suit dodged an incoming beam rifle shot.

    It’s mono-eye snapped to a Gundam Mk.II B, which was in the middle of inserting a new E-Cap into its beam rifle. The Lieutenant quickly responded with a long burst from her machine gun, the physical rounds impacting hard and rending the Mk.II B’s armor, and the mass produced machine doubled back, falling down as it’s cockpit had been blown out; the pilot little more than a few scorched chunks around the seat.

    “Someone get me a fucking Sitrep on the area! ASAP!” She yelled into her radio, and a Corporal responded. The 18 year old Johnathan Nickolson looked and sounded even younger than his actual age, though he was a surprisingly apt MS pilot in his Marasai-G.

    “Ma’am, we’re under attack from a full company of Feddy suits! There’s almost 50 of the things surrounding the launch site! Manson got eyes on a Double Zeta gundam before it...it glassed him.” She grimmised, Sergeant Manson had been their lookout, in a Goblin-A. He was the last person she’d have expected to get taken out first.

    Several beam shots impacted the ground near the two, turning sand into pits of glass from the extreme heat, as 3 Ground Type Jegans jetted over the dunes towards them. The two pilots dashed towards whatever cover the surrounding desert could provide them, and they returned fire. Johnathan caught a Jegan in the knee with his beam rifle, and the lower leg of the federation machine was shorn clean off, causing the Jegan to collapse forward mid step, trapping the pilot inside the crippled suit.

    Sara too fired back at them, with a lucky burst ripping through a Jegan’s head, though the MS was still functional. It fired back in conjunction with it’s untouched partner until the two were lanced from the sides by rapid fire. A second lance of Geara Doga’s had come to reinforce the flank, and made quick work of the two remaining Jegans. Johnathan walked over to the downed Jegan, and after removing it’s limbs, flipped it over. The pilot, a bit disorientated, came out, and surrendered to the Neo Zeon forces.

    They had been lucky, there were little casualties on the side of Newborn Neo Zeon, and the Federation forces pulled back within the hour. The pilots and soldiers took the time to salvage what suits had been lost, and recover the bodies of the dead on both sides. Manson’s body had been vaporized by what Sara assumed was the ZZ Gundam, though she didn’t know what was worse, that he wouldn’t have a proper burial, or that he’d had been the first one to go. Manson had always been hyped to go on combat missions, and she’d miss his enthusiasm.

    The time soon approached for the forces near the spaceport to take off, though Michaels’s lance had been selected to board last, and to take up defensive positions in case they were attacked one last time. Within 5 minutes of the boarding procedures, such a prediction came true, and forward scouts reported back a single Mobile Suit moving at high speeds towards the Spaceport; an SSMS-010 ZZ Gundam.

     A dual beam lanced through the morning air, and punched a hole through a Geara Doga, the machine detonating not a second later. The Gundam had arrived, and return fire erupted from the Mobile Suits below it.

    “That bastard’s back Lieutenant! Payback time!” Johnathan rocketed forward towards the Federation mobile suit, much to the chagrin of Sara. “Stay back God damn it! Fire with your rifle! Do not engage in CQC with that thing!”

    The Marasai-G paused, and began firing it’s rifle at the Gundam, with Sara moving up to support him with her own Machine Gun. The rounds and beams mostly missed the ZZ, but a lucky beam struck it’s thigh armor, slagging a portion of the armor. Unfortunately, that got the Pilot’s attention from the Doga’s it was engaging.

    Michaels cursed under her breath as she swapped drums of Autocannon ammunition, and near panicked when she saw Johnathan similarly reloading as the ZZ Gundam began moving in their direction, a beam saber drawn.

    Quickly, Johnathan dropped the beam rifle, and reached under the shoulder mounted shield on his MS, drawing his own saber and meeting the ZZ’s just in time. Sara on the other hand began firing on the Gundam from the rear, which drew its attention from Johnathan onto her.

    A slash of Purple narrowly missed her, and she was forced into the thing she feared most, melee combat. Fortunately for her the Sazabi had an undershield mounted Beam saber which far outmatched most others, and the Machine Gun impacted the sand below her as the yellow saber flashed to life, nearly severing the Gundam’s arm at the elbow.

    The duel was on, and a flurry of slashes was met with constant parrys. Neither pilot could outmatch the other, and the high output Gundam saber was met in kind with the Sazabi’s own. It seemed to last for hours before the gundam managed to get in a kick, which rattled Michaels’s cockpit as the Sazabi hit the ground. The ZZ stood over her, and Sara made her peace as the beam saber descended towards her.

    “Not today you feddy bastard!” Johnathan yelled, as he shoulder-checked the Gundam, knocking it out of the way. The Federation machine stumbled out of the way, before turning to face the Marasai, which held it’s beam saber out in front of it, ready to take him on.

    The Gundam charged, as did the Marasai. Johnathan was blind to the second Beam Saber the Gundam had pulled out, and Sara got up just in time to see it rise up towards the Marasai’s cockpit.

    “NO! DON-” Was all she could say before Johnathan’s cockpit was obliterated by the saber’s beam. She looked on wide eyed as the Marasai fell, before sparking and exploding behind the Gundam. Tears welled in her eyes, though the Gundam advanced onwards towards her, oblivious to the oncoming reinforcements behind it.

    The legs of the ZZ were blown out from under it, and it fell backwards as it’s sabers slipped from its hands, cutting deep gashes in both it’s forearms, rendering them inoperable. Sara watched as the cockpit opened, and the pilot emerged, a white flag raised. She then watched the flag suddenly drop out of the pilot’s hands as they raised futility; several autocannon shots mulching the pilot and the cockpit behind them.

    Sara quickly looked around to see who had shot the surrendering pilot, only to see her own smoking barrel.

    The year was UC 0231, or at least it probably was, and the Commodore sat in her bed, curled up and crying. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it never got any better as time went on.
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“The Interview”
    A song finishes playing on “Proxima Radio”, an unsanctioned radio station the Commodore had allowed to continue to run for morale purposes; the voice of the host, an off duty John Berenzenovich, is then heard over the speakers of whatever radios were tuned to the Station.

    “And with that, our request lineup is over, but stay tuned, because up next we have an exclusive interview with one of the founding members of the Proxima Zeonic Republic; you all know her, it’s the daughter of Dozel Zabi herself, Mineva!” Across the ship, there was a collective feeling of surprise, even from Commodore Michaels. Mineva Lao Zabi hadn’t left her room since they had entered the Rift, and the fact a corporal of all people had been the one to get her out was probably the most shocking of all.

    Mineva sat across from the uniformed corporal, herself wearing a fine suit fitting of a woman of her standing among those on the ship. The daughter of Zeonic royalty she may have been, but she acted nothing like the rest of her, now long since deceased, family.

    “I’m glad to be able to come here, though I suppose I won’t have many duties like I expected to have when we returned to the earth sphere, well, our earth sphere.” John nodded along in agreement. “You and all the rest of us. Now, enough on that, let’s get to the reason we’re both here. I’ve got a list of questions collected from the crew. Are you ready?”

    She nods. “Yes, I’m ready to answer whatever questions I can.” John motions for Reno, who was ready with the list, to hand it over. He does, and John begins reading off the first of five very vetted questions. “Alright, number one: What was it really like during your time in Axis with Haman?” Mineva sighs. “Well, I knew this was going to be one of them. During that time I was more or less just a puppet of Haman. A little girl on a throne while she did all the actual work. At the time I didn’t think much of her actions, however with the hindsight I have now…”

    John nods understandingly. “I can only imagine how you felt after you were old enough to understand all the wrongs committed by Karn. Now, moving on from that, our next question. Do you still remember any of the rest of the Zabi family?” She takes a few moments to attempt to recall any memories she had. “Well, the only memory that really comes to mind is of my father, Dozle. As for specifics...that I can’t say. I was still an infant after all.”

    “That’s fairly understandable. I don’t think I’m the only one who can say I expected you not to have remembered anything at all. Third question, have you ever piloted a mobile suit?” She shakes her head. “No, I haven’t, and no offense to you, but I hope I never have too.”

    “None taken ma’am. I get where you’re coming from. Just saying though, it’s pretty fun once you get the hang of it...and you’re also not getting shot at.” The two of them chuckle, before getting back to the interview. “Alright, we’re in the home stretch now. Fourth question: What made you decide to become a diplomat, and why volunteer for this mission?”

    “Well, I’ve never been one to seek out war, again, Haman’s actions only really did more to increase my distaste for conflict. I hoped that our flight from the Sol system and cessation of all hostilities with the Federation would do more to preserve peace, and so far my hopes have been fulfilled. My decision to become a diplomat after the founding of the Republic was born out of a desire to keep things that way. As for me volunteering to come on this mission, I felt that, with the passing of time, the Earth Federation would have calmed in it’s attitudes towards the Zeonic Ideologies and its adherents. It seems however that the universe had different plans.”

    Again, John gives an understanding nod. “Well, now relating to that, the last question. With us stranded here with little chance of return at the moment, how do you think our future will pan out here in this universe?” She takes some time to think of a proper response. Of course she wouldn’t want to give words of hopelessness or despair, there wasn’t much reason to, but finding the right ones was tricky.

    “I believe that if we stick to the original nature of our mission, to establish contact with the people of the Earth Sphere, to seek understanding and to discover the fate of those who stayed behind; I truly believe that we will not only survive this turn of events, but we will one day return to our own universe, and with what we find here, make life better for those back home.”

    “Well folks, there you have it. Mineva Lao Zabi herself. It’s been great having you here, and I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to be on the show with us Ma’am.” The two stood up, and shook hands. “Well, it was better than staying in my quarters all day, endlessly thinking about what to do. This was a welcome distraction to all the chaos and uncertainty we’ve been faced with.”

    And with that, the broadcast ends, and John sees Mineva off after a post-radio show chat and some parting words. All in all, the interview was a success, with general morale improving across the ship in the days after.
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“What could have been”
    The Oggo of Corporal Berenzenovich drifted through the void, hauling along with it an ancient MS-06J Zaku 2 Ground Type. It might be a useful sell, seeing as it was a pre-UMP mobile suit, and thus the likelihood of compatible parts was low at best. He grumbled that he couldn’t have found a Zaku 3, of which the parts could be swapped immediately. However, the grumbling wouldn’t last, as he wanted to check up on the LT.

    He opens up a channel, and begins speaking. “This is Cor-” He’s met with screaming. Immediately his blood runs cold and his nerves go haywire. Immediately he zips through the Debris field towards her last pinged position, the mono-eye of the Oggo constantly sweeping to find sight of Marida’s own Mobile Pod.

    “Come on….come on...where the fuck is her pod…” With the screaming turning into sobbing, he at least knew she wasn’t being killed. However, that didn’t give much indication as to what was happening at all. Finally, he sights her pod. It floated stationary in the void, grasping onto another Mobile Suit! With no hull breaches, or really any problems detected, John looks to the MS, running it’s silhouette through the Pod’s internal database. It was a suit from the One Year War, an assault Mobile Suit designated the MS-16E Kampfer. Notable for being heavily armed and incredibly fast, benefiting from modularity thanks to the United Maintenance Plan, however with the drawback of paper thin armor.

    “Lieutenant Cruz, this is Co-This is John. I’m coming in to dock with your Oggo. What happened? Are you alright?” He gets little more than a whimper and muttered words he couldn’t make out. With little other information, he locks the airlock of the Oggo to the other Pod, and after placing his helmet on and sealing his Normal Suit, which was a thinner, Luna Titanium armored version compared to those used by older Zeon factions. The airlock opens with a faint hiss as new air is introduced into either pod, and John kicks off the roof of his pod, floating down into the tube connecting the pods and stops on the lock of Marida’s Oggo.

    He twists the locking mechanism, opening the hatch and emerging from the floor of the second pod. Marida Cruz was in the corner of the pod, in the Fetal position and sobbing, spherical orbs of tear water floating around her. He glides over in the small room sized cockpit, and kneels down in front of her as best he can.

    “Hey, LT, what’s going on? What’s got you like this?” His face showed genuine concern, seeing as the Lieutenant had been a woman with a resolve greater then the size of the sun. He places a hand on her shoulder, and Cruz’s head jolts up, staring John in the face. He takes his helmet off, and tosses it aside. “It’s just me Marida. It’s ok. What happened? Is it that Kampfer? What’s wrong with it? Newtype stuff?” She only nods slowly, before placing her head back in between her knees.

    The corporal sighs, and pats her on the back. He didn’t think there was much to do for her, and he gets up to look at what had her so messed up. Staring him back from the monitor was a dead man. Judging from the Uniform he was Principality, or a post OYW remnant pilot. He radios back to the PZS Delgato to report what was going on, when he’s hit with a barrage of Newtype psychic phenomena.

    “No! I don’t know who the pilot is supposed to be! Wh-GAH! FUCK! OH GOD MY HEAD! AAAAAAAAAAAGH!” He clutches his head, and writhes across the cockpit, tearing up due to the sheer pain he was experiencing. One image passed through his mind however, the face of one Captain Zinnerman, a cruiser captain in the PZDF; and the surrogate father of Marida Cruz. Suddenly this all made sense to him, at least what he had come up with though the searing migraine he was experiencing.

    Marida had seen things when she laid eyes upon the body of the other Zinnerman. She would have been shaken by the sight of her surrogate father dead in the cockpit of the Kampfer, but it was the visions that began shortly after the sight that caused her to have a breakdown. This was not her father, but another Zinnerman. He had lived a sad, lonely life, losing his family, his friends, ultimately taking a suicide mission to put himself out of his own misery. There were snippets from other timelines as well, near thousands of them, which didn’t help her condition at all.

    Back with Berenzenovich, he had recovered somewhat from the Newtype backlash he’d experienced, and had finished up a call back to the Delgato. He grimaced from his throbbing head, and looked back at Marida. She was getting up, and he made his way back over to her. “Marida, LT, are yo-” He was cut off by a nearly crushing hug from the Cyber-Newtype. She was happy to see a familiar, and friendly face after having snapped out of whatever she had experienced, for the most part.

    John, somewhat awkwardly, returned the hug, patting her on the back before she let go. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We can give him a proper funeral back on the Delgato, yeah?” She took a deep breath, and nodded. “Yes, that’d be a good idea Corporal.”

    The two get to their stations, and begin to travel back to their homeship, weaving in between the debris until the PZS Delgato came into view. “This is Berenzenovich, we’re coming in. Hope you have those meds ready for me.” The comms officer of the Delgato, Terrance “Terry” Revin, picks up. “Copy that Corporal. You are clear for landing with those MS you two picked up. Let the Lieutenant know she’s been cleared for extended R&R, and a talk with the Ship’s psychologist if she wants.”

    Marida responds before John has a chance to. “You didn’t need to do that for me Corporal. But, thank you. I’ll be sure to take you up on all that.” The Oggos enter the hangar bay, and the two pilots leave for their bunks. Both have had a long day, and they both need the rest. John, however, is intercepted by his lancemate, Erina, but that’s a story for another time.
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