Mobile Frame Gundam: Red Rising (A Gundam-esque Hard Sci-Fi Narrative Wargame)

[LurkingWreck]

Turn 1 - January-February - 2174 CE

Spoiler: Color Code

Green: Optimal Launch Window
Yellow: Sub-Optimal Launch Window
Orange: Dangerous Launch Window
Red: Impossible Launch Window

A single bullet fired in anger.

In the end, a single bullet was all it took to ignite a conflagration which would consume a generation. The Golden Age lies shattered and broken, never to be reforged again.

The hope of peace wavers in the harsh winds, struck low by Deimos, with its last sputtering embers squashed in the aftermath.

Now, there is no turning back. The page turns, and another bloody chapter in the history of Humanity unfolds.​

---

The New York Times
All The News That's Fit To Print

Out With The Old, In With The New!​

Following the walkout by the newly-minted Opposition Caucus last year, the days of the Oliviera Administration were numbered. Though the Secretary-General continued to soldier on while governing by decree and executive orders, the so-called Battle over Deimos would at last seal his fate, collapsing what little bureaucratic support which Oliviera still retained within the United Nations. Despite this turn of events however, Representative Maddox, unofficial spokesperson for the Opposition Caucus has repeatedly refused to take his seat once more alongside his colleagues.

"Too little has been done to satisfy us, and we are willing to continue waiting until the bureaucracy finally realizes it needs us."
-Assembly Representative (USNA) Henry Maddox

While not all Opposition members have agreed with this stance and have deemed it prudent to return to their seats, an agreed plurality within the United Nations Assembly has not been forthcoming. Deeming the lack of clear leadership within the UN a matter of international security however, the assembled Representatives, in agreement with the opinion of the International Court of Justice, has selected the experienced and dutiful civil servant Amihan Rashminga as the new Secretary-General of the United Nations.

It remains unclear as to the ability of Miss Rashminga to resolve the present difficulties plaguing the Earth and Martian Spheres with the continued dysfunction of the UN Assembly, though the emergency powers granted to former Secretary-General Allesandro Oliviera have not been rescinded or withdrawn by the United Nations Secretariat nor the International Court of Justice.

The world now holds its breath, waiting to see whether their new leader may deliver them from their woes and troubles.

New Years Riots Continue​

On the streets of Mombasa the people assemble upon the streets and take to their barricades for the fourth week in a row. Angry and dissatisfied, citizens continue to protest a wide variety of issues plaguing the Earth. The perceived media censorship, governmental corruption, the sudden economic shock and associated layoffs and price increases, alongside others unlisted here. While riot suppression units and local police have deployed in force, the fear of civilian casualties and the destruction of property has stayed any ideas of engagement, says Mombasa Police Chief Noab Ketema.

This is but one of many such near-identical civil disturbances currently occurring across the globe in the wake of the Martian Rebellion, precipitating a number of local crises that altogether has crippled much of Earth's society and economy. Attempts by Mandate administrations to alleviate these problems have failed in practice or simply never materialized, due to the extensive political chaos currently gripping the United Nations Assembly. It is hoped with the ascension of a new Secretary-General and the appointment of a new government, these open wounds staining the Earth may at last be healed.

How The Mighty Fall​

Amidst the most unprecedented and destructive market crash in Human history, those suffering the most are those once thought too great to fail outright. Lockheed-Martin-Boeing is the largest military contractor and private security conglomerate in the western hemisphere, and regardless that has not stopped CEO Miranda Gabriade from announcing the company's intent to file a Chapter 13 bankruptcy with the District Court of North America, formally putting the corporate entity on the path towards diminishment and reorganization.

As a result, fifteen manufacturing plants are already closing their doors, their workers laid off, with the properties, associated patents and other materials to be auctioned off in the near future.

"To do something like this is never easy, but I cannot in good conscience sacrifice the needs of the few for the needs of the many. LMB must and will weather this storm, and though hard years lie ahead of us, I am confident in the spirit and fortitude of our company family in seeing us through it."
-Lockheed-Martin-Boeing CEO Miranda Gabriade

Lockheed-Martin-Boeing is not the first, and likely not the last corporation to pursue such extreme measures to ensure their continued existence. Fifteen similar manufacturing and commercial giants across the greater Earth Sphere have sought similar arrangements or declared outright insolvency over the last three months, all as a result of the colossal market crash and sudden resource scarcity which has been haunting the Earth Sphere for well over a year…

Many still wonder if this cycle will ever be broken, or if this downturn will continue into a nightmarish economic apocalypse which will leave few, if any, brands untouched.

---

Elysium City Herald
The Voice of The People

Victory and Independence​

A new year dawns upon Mars, alongside a new era. Following the victory at Deimos, the Council for a Free Mars, alongside representatives of the settlements of the Martian Sphere, at the steps of the New Syrtis Spaceport to officially sign the Martian Declaration of Independence. At last, fellow Martians, we are free! Free to choose our own fates, and make our own decisions, unheeding of whatever wishes our former masters in the Earth Sphere may still desire to impose upon us.

Newly-selected President of the Council Lane Novak spoke briefly at the occasion, marred as she was by the joyous emotions that ran rampant amongst the gathered dignitaries and crowd, promising a brighter future for all Martians, prosperity and peace. The latter of course will not happen until the elites of Earth at last lay down their own arms and accept the fact they shall never again dictate and command our people as livestock to the slaughter.

Today, we shall celebrate and be merry, for tomorrow we shall grieve for all those who will be able to lay eyes upon a free Mars.

Do Your Part, Ration Today!​

Though we are at last free from the oppression of Earth, our former masters made it a point of pride to leave us almost entirely dependent upon their own products and supplies, so that in the event of rebellion we would all expire on our own from hunger, cold or suffocation. While this situation has not changed today, we shall not quietly go into the night. Already efforts are made to stifle the wishes of Earth in seeing us destroyed, but these will fail unless every single Martian steps forward and does their duty.

It is recommended that all Martians consume no more than 1800 calories a day, while conserving water used for cooking and cleaning where possible. Such actions may seem inconsequential to many, and it is true on the individual scale such measures would do little, but when multiplied across all of Mars, significant supplies of foodstuffs, water and power may be conserved for use in the war of liberation to come.

Keep this in mind as you carry on with your duties and recreations, and Mars shall in the end emerge triumphant!

The Return of Rust Lung​

It is now confirmed that large-scale outbreaks of Rust Lung, a respiratory disease developed from long-term exposure to non-filtered Martian air, has emerged within the settlements of Jefferson and Arsia City. The disease, as always, has struck at the least fortunate members of Martian society, including the settlements' mining crews and homeless populations, and despite the best efforts of local medical personnel, their foe remains endemic, continuing to spread further to outlying outposts and small towns.

The Martian Council advises until further notice that those citizens susceptible to respiratory issues or pneumonia remain within climate-controlled locales, or are provided with appropriate air filtration equipment, and that bottled air from such sources be provided to the homeless populations of the settlements until a larger response can be organized.

Already the disease has claimed 103 victims of assorted ages, all stemming from the previously-mentioned groups, with an appalling number of them adolescents and children displaced by the fighting during the Revolution.

For the moment, hopes remain high that the disease may yet be squashed before the outbreak can truly grow to become a region-wide epidemic, though local officials have been quick to warn that the people must not trust claims of a rapid solution or miracle advancements, and that the battle against the disease will likely be long and drawn out.

---

​

---

OOC Thread​

 

[ORE]

♫
In a secret federation bunker filled with activity
Corporal Tequila Sanchez desperately tried to keep up with his superior officer and/or ward
"Lt. Commander Barnaby sir, I really must insist that you take off that uniform and turn in that side arm, the base doctors haven't cleared you yet-"

Lt. Commander Barnaby suddenly stopped and turned, and the Corporal impacted full speed into his impressive bulk, interrupting his train of thought.

"The doc can all suck eggs, I'm fit as a fiddle, I haven't spent all this time in cyro to waste any time faffing about with blood tests"

"But Sir."

"Look, there's a war right?"

"Yes"

"And I was reactivated to fight this war, right?"

"Yes"

"Then let me go fighting this fucking war! Now tell me where my damn plane is, and whose the King of England right now"

"Its..Queen Elizabeth the Third sir, but that's not really important, sir its not an airplane, its new technology you haven't been cleared to fly it yet."

"That won't be a problem" said Barry, taking a bite out of a sausage roll he'd mysteriously procured. "I can pilot anything"
​

 

[Simpli]

=}+{=
=} The First Martian Council {=


​

"We, the People of Mars have triumphed across the board! The rotten structure of the MAC has collapsed; the yoke that drained our blood and wasted our lives has been cast off; the fires of Deimos have illuminated the skies with the knowledge that we will neither be bowered nor shattered by the guns of the UNs battleships! Long Live the Free Mars!

The Council for a Free Mars, with the support of all Martian Settlements, from the habitats of the Tharsis-Sirenium, to the mines of Elysium-Cimmeria, the outposts of Noachis-Sabaea and the Orbital Habitats that have born the brunt of the UNs assault, has ratified the Martian Declaration of Independence. We have cast into political shape what has been a natural feeling of every human being that has endured the tyranny of the UN: we are Martians, free and independent, ready to raise our voices as one Chorus!

For this new Mars, nascent and still crying from the aftereffects of birth, a new government has been formed, one to which all parties that make up the Free Mars Movement belong to. While it is on this government to plan the next steps, it is on all of us to consolidate this radiant victory! The people of Mars have triumphed fully and with no remnant of our hated oppressors remaining to torment us anymore, now it's on us to grow gardens, to organize our factories, to extend a helping hand to those displaced and bereaved by the fighting!

It is on all of us, that this new Mars we are creating won't be endangered and that its people will not merely survive, but walk jointly into a better future!"

​

"There are those among you whom I am glad to call comrades and friends, who know that I have never fought for honours nor for posts and positions. That the Martian Sphere has called upon me to head the Council for a Free Mars is something that I have accepted fully aware of the perils and hardships that still awaits us.By this mandate I have formed the first Cabinet of Mars, with comrades and friends belonging to all political parties of the Martian Sphere!

Called to represent our valiant armed forces on the Cabinet, Commander Aran Maegeri of the 1st Liberation Corps will be tasked with overseeing our fleets and volunteers should the UN dare to threaten our homes more. Those who have served with him at Deimos have seen both his love for Mars and his expertise in action!

As Director of the Martian Watch, Milan Atwater has a reputation that only serves to prove that he is willing to defend this planet to the last drop of his blood. With him in this Cabinet, we can all be assured that the UN won't find us weakened by the legacy of the MAC!

But even as our defense is of utmost importance, Mars exists because of the people who create it and live on it. Ryne Rowan, Council Representative for the Orbital Habitats, a man of experience and convictions and with an illustrious career among the Eden Initiative has accepted the position of Cabinet Administrator. He will make sure that the Mars we are creating will be one worthy of the dreams we have.

Defense, industry and our very lives on Mars rely on something greater than what a single person can grasp: knowledge and research. As such I am glad to have won Thomas Sigmund, a man who has poured all of his resources into this revolution, as a head of our Research Department, to come up with the ideas and technology that will see us prosper."

---

"People of Mars! We fight today because we know that this is right, that in face of the UNs Tyranny and their contempt for us, the people living and working on Mars, we not merely have to, but want to fight. No injustice like the one we endured can be endured again; no cruelty like the one we experienced ought to be experienced again: we fight and stand together because we all believe that Mars and its People ought to be free!

Long Live the Free Mars!"

=}+{=​

 

[Terrafirma]

- Top Secret -
@Simpli @Taricus @Nerdorama @LurkingWreck
​

Spoiler: For Authorized Eyes Only

The Olympus Memorandum
​

Preface:

What does the crossbow, the cannon, the machine gun, the airplane, the submarine, the aircraft carrier, and the tank have in common? These major military innovations, some of the biggest in human history, revolutionized the battlefield. The next strategic transformation has arrived. The Battle of Deimos has presented empirical evidence that the dawn of a new age has begun. Officially termed as Main Battle Frames they will also have the nickname War Frames with the MBF-00 designated the forerunner of what is to come. It is our Eve, our Athena, our Chavah, our Zoe. The Ḥawwā and Embla of our future. The following is an in-depth analysis of the battle's newest innovation.

Evaluation​

Overall Effectiveness:

It is readily apparent that without the War Frames, the Martian fleet would not be able to stand up to the UNN. Mars was outmatched with no hope of victory on mere numbers and tonnage alone. The frames turned the calculus of power on its head.


Combat Capabilities:

The MBF-00 used a rifle-like autocannon sized proportionately to the dimensions of its user. It was utilized against most threats complemented by shaped charges and explosives. Imagine grenades for giant robots. When these munitions ran out, the War Frames used anything from steel beams to chunks of destroyed vessels to continue the fight. Their MBF-00's greatest effectiveness was against capital ships. Able to enter beneath the firing arc of their powerful railguns, the frames' speed guaranteed they could chase down and outmaneuver smaller craft.


Maneuverability:

Elaborating further, these inventions could dodge incoming fire from both capital ships and even cruisers. It is important to note that while these weapons, better suited for ship-to-ship combat, faltered their point-defense systems proved to be more than a match for attacking MBF. Casualty rates were low, however, this is due to a lack of coordination from the enemy. Whether the victor or vanquished, valuable experience was gained. In non-combat situations, they are as effective as any ASF in changing direction even on a dime if needed. It should be noted that post-battle analysis has detected some metal stress in the frames from these maneuvers. It is recommended that until additional development is made to limit such action.


Durability:

There is a brilliantly simple elegance of these machines. The war frames were little more than industrial equivalents converted with bolted-on armor sections for additional though still limited protection. This was a strategic choice valuing speed over defense. When struck by PD or other similar weapons the armor plating held for a short time. Afterward, any medium-to-major damage could result in the MBF being disabled or outright destroyed. The UNN's unfamiliarity with the newest battlefield development contributed to lower kill rates.


Pilot Skill:

Unsurprisingly, many pilots were unfamiliar with the strengths and weaknesses of the frames due to this being an entirely nuanced form of warfare. Performance was considered adequate given the circumstances. It should be noted a few casualties might have been prevented if these were experienced soldiers. However, the Battle of Deimos produced several prodigies, militarily designated as aces, even without proper training or prior knowledge of these machines. I find it fascinating these individual's innate abilities were key to victory. These soldiers emphasize that it is not solely the machine but its pilot that can make the difference.


Tactical Awareness:

In addition to the aforementioned weaponry, the MBF came equipped with a suite of supplementary systems including rangefinders, radar, and monitoring equipment. This illustrates the resourcefulness of military planners and associated maintenance personnel. Similar to the munitions and frames themselves, the pilot's unfamiliarity with the unit prevented them from utilizing the equipment to its full potential. Further experience and training will maximize effectiveness. The present equipment setup proved sufficient and up to battlefield standards.


Environmental Adaptation:

The suits were based on orbital-class worker-frames meaning the war-frames are entirely sealed and pressurized making them ideal for space warfare. In addition, the pilots have access to an emergency oxygen supply in their suits extending operation time. The suits themselves have the necessary protection against lethal solar radiation. However, in the heat of battle, multiple pilots reported the destruction of the anti-rad layer. Medical examinations showed no radiation poisoning, though after-action reports mentioned many were treated for minor radiation exposure. This is unacceptable.


Supply and Logistics:

Initial estimates regarding the needed ammunition for the frames' weapons proved woefully insufficient leading to the proliferation of makeshift melee weaponry during the later stages of the battle. This circumstance did open the possibility of producing dedicated melee weapons given their effectiveness. Fuel for both the main thruster and delta-V was adequate. However, it was reported by some pilots that pulling extraordinary maneuvers pushed the war frames to bingo fuel. Larger fuel capacity is therefore recommended for longer operation times. Refueling methods akin to atmospheric warplanes should be explored.


Enemy Countermeasures:

The UNN had no war frames in the Battle of Deimos. Earth forces' combat effectiveness was further hamstrung due to a series of events causing chaos and confusion. Small-scale plans such as massed point-defense fire, close-range attacks by ASF elements, and even a gunship overloading its batteries found limited success at a tactical level. Specific performances of local forces varied wildly from an outright rout to isolated instances of organized withdrawals. These methods are more effective when an enemy force is neither disorganized nor demoralized.


Intelligence Gathering:

MBF reconnaissance elements correctly detected the retreat of the heavily damaged 4th fleet on a return trajectory towards Earth. Due to blanket jamming over the battle space, a pursuit force could not be organized until enemy elements were out of range. It was deemed too risky and too late to deploy Martian fleet assets. A critical element of communication between allied forces was discarded due to jamming. It's recommended to find alternative forms of short-range communication among war frame units.


Long-Term Implications:

Like their terrestrial predecessors in the 20th century, the era of the space-born battleship is over. Although not obsolete, they will no longer dominate the battlefield. Instead of yet another battleship challenging it in a vicious exchange of raw firepower, the war frame is a wildly cheaper anti-ship alternative. Without the jamming field up the war-frames would have been decimated by swarms of missiles and torpedoes launched from the UN fleet. This is a concern that needs to be rectified. It must be emphasized that long-range fire remains a distinct threat for the war-frames. Currently, there is no counter.


Areas for Improvement:

Like all newly acquired weapon systems, there will always be inefficiencies. A new war frame created from the ground up is necessary due to the demands of the battlefield. The following should be considered for the MBF-01:

- Improve War Frame structural integrity for combat efficiency and environmental safety

- More munition capacity

- Improve life support systems

- Dedicated close combat equipment

- Improve fuel capacity

- Establish a pilot training program

- Expand on sensory and communication systems

- Creation of successor series utilizing specialization or modular characteristics


Final Resolution:

I wholeheartedly support the notion that war frames are the future. In my capacity as the director for Research and Development, it is strongly suggested that significant resources be assigned towards the ultimate salvation of Mars in its struggle against Earth's oppression. The real question is how best to utilize this innovation. This will require additional analysis and much more combat data.

Thomas Sigmund
Chief Scientist of the Martian Research & Development Bureau​

​

 

[Archon of Ghosts]

​

"Do you confirm that all you've said until now has been the truth to the best of your recollection?"

"Yes sir."

He looked up from his notes, looking at the gunnery officer that had just finished giving her verbal report. Her eyes were haggard, stress and fatigue framing her eyes in dark bags. She hesitantly picked up a glass and downed the water within.

Some of the other staff officers and technical specialists whispered to each other as he tapped his fingers, comparing his notes with those of the previous testimony. He bit the inside of his mouth.

He met the gaze of the questioner and gave a sharp nod.

"Thank you for your time officer." Oscar began as he raised himself, "You are dismissed and free to spend the rest of the week as you see fit."

She nodded and mumbled a response, before sluggishly returning his salute and leaving the room.

He took his seat once more, and called up the technical data that had been provisionally compiled, surrounding a blurry image of the Martian "war-frames". The rest of the officers in the room had fallen silent, meeting his sweeping gaze while nursing their coffee, tea, or water.

"Deimos turned into a disaster... because of 3D printed industrial machinery with stapled on armour plates and makeshift weapons."

He massaged his temples as his subordinates exchanged pained expressions.

"We've spent trillions into this military, spent decades reaffirming a space superiority doctrine against one focused on low-scale piracy and civilian pacification. And this is the result!?"

His hand slammed on the table.

"Are you fucking kidding me!? If the command staff weren't already dead I'd have them stand alongside Oliveira in court. Such rank negligence and incompetence is baffling!"

He sighed and turned to his secretary.

"Get us an expert on worker frames and grab a fighter jock for consulting. There better be something revolutionary in there or heads will roll."

 

[Nerdorama]

Long Live the Free Mars!

Cigars, whiskey, what little red meat was to be had on this rock. All flowing amid the toasting and cheering of the invincible, the assured, the patricians of the New Planetary Order.

The would-be patricians, anyway. Here they were, celebrating and feteing their "cabinet appointment", a corporate security merc whose main marketable skills were having his head on a swivel and knowing when to change sides. False modesty was a skill he'd honed like any other, but even in his inner mind he had to think that some of the hangers-on were laying it on too thick. Worth keeping an eye on.

The Spartanians actually in the military were better about it, people focused on winning the existential war that was on the horizon. But with rare and helpful exceptions, they were all junior officers, particularly ambitious enlisted, or militia who liked the idea of being temporarily embarrassed warrior-kings better than class conflict. And all of them would be putting their lives and bodies on the line while the theorists in the cities designed uniforms and praised each other over the natural hardiness of the Martian while people choked to death on cold air in the streets.

Declaring independence was all well and good, though; there certainly weren't enough MCA stooges left on the planet to fill a church graveyard. Dead, or seen the light, or surrendered in a panic after Deimos. Milan Atwater was just glad he'd opted for the second one early. Getting in on the ground floor, of the revolution, of Santangel's little clique...it had its perks, even if the party gave him a headache. Just more resources to be honed into a proper state.

---

Director Atwater went to his office after the party. He'd always been a nocturnal creature, and it's not like he was stupid enough to get drunk in public after being officially named the Director of the Martian Watch. It hadn't been much of a contest, really - what kind of maniac actually wanted to take a militia run out of a basement and play spy games against the largest, wealthiest, highest-technology bureaucracy in mankind's history? Atwater's existing connections in the shady world of Martian-on-Martian violence before the war, and his willingness to ruthlessly eliminate all threats to the rising Martian pseudo-state, were enough to put him on top of the running. He hadn't even needed to kill anyone extra for it, which surprised him. Still, theoretical cabinet position aside, he was still running a militia out of a cardboard box and calling it an intelligence agency, and that was irritating enough to keep him working at 0200 local time, having long since switched from cigars to cigarettes made with rancid-smelling local tobacco and some over-the-counter stimulants to cut the light buzz he'd accumulated.

Said acrid smoke clung to a chaotic array of filing cabinets and gun lockers as Atwater leaned back in his chair and put his boots up on top of his own desk. "First thing we put on the budget is a new fucking office," he dictated to his chief of staff, seated quietly opposite and taking dictation...or more honestly, translating Atwater's statements to something that would be reasonable to send to President Novak in the morning. "Anonymity's great, but we need security and training, put that in there. What else's come up?"

The chief, Milan's long-time associate Odelo Casas, handed him a small stack of organized folders. "Top one is sealed, that's Sigmund's warframe report."

Atwater unsealed the envelope, grabbing a pair of reading glasses to give it a skim. "Oh, Santangel's hangers-on are going to love this. Man's practically proposing marriage to the warframe plan. Good, we weren't going to make any battleships on this rock in the next six months."

"You think the UN is going to attack at the first launch window?"

"I assume they'd be attacking now if physics permitted it. Crushing us immediately or letting us starve to death are their surest bets, and the second one's already a bit of a longshot. What else?"

"Dossiers on the fleet commanders and Council members. Tried to get some extra for Rowan and Maegeri, but short notice and all."

Milan waved the man's concerns off. "I'm less concerned with them. Novak picked the safe options, Maegeri for the populists and Rowan so she didn't look like she was favoring the Consortium over the MLL. I still want some of the crew attending Edenist services, though, get a sense for where they're going for the war effort."

He looked up, meeting Casas's eyes over the rim of his glasses. "I'm more concerned with the people who aren't on the council or the Cabinet."

"The MLL."

"I've got nothing against strong state control of the economy, but they're popular and don't like being snubbed. As far as I'm concerned the Martian Watch's first job is to keep all our firing squads pointed out, so figure out what they want and how to give it to them without firebombing a steel mill or whatever it is they're going to want to do now that the MCA's gone."

"We're gonna need more troops for that, boss."

"Yeah that's the second thing on the budget requests. Right before a telescope that lets me read Rashminga's emails over her shoulder," Atwater said, slumping back and rubbing his forehead. "Christ, maybe we should help the MLL, if we abolish money they have to give me whatever I ask for, right?"

"Eighty-nine percent sure that's not how Communism works, boss."

 

[Eyeless Wannabe]

Just the beginning...
Dunladi forced himself to break away from the flickering lights of the news feeds. He set the reports he had been reading onto the floor, and walked to the kitchen. Eyes stinging, he poured himself a glass of water. He had been glued to news for the past months.
Week after week he had watched: Unrest. Organizing. Placating. Terrorism. Speeches. Posturing. Saving face. Assurances. Deployments.
Disaster.
_____Death.
_________A medal, in a box.
Shock. Disgrace. More saving face. Resignations. Speculation. Arguing. Pundits.
_____________Adoption Papers.
Turn over. Meetings. Plans. Writing off losses. Late nights. Scraping the barrel. Reports. Reports. Reports.

He drank the water. Realizing that he was still thirsty, he drained another two. Wow, he really hadn't been taking care of himself lately. Sadly, that wasn't about to change for a good long while. Times like these took years off your life.
What a waste... Humanity turned in on itself. A starving animal, now gnawing on its own leg. The talking heads liked to pretend this was some unknown new frontier of human history. Dunladi didn't agree. This was just a reprise of an old song. He had gotten tired of the tune a long time ago.
Still, he had a job to do. The only future that existed was for a United Humanity. These flares of independence, these divisions, these successions... All just distractions.

"Uncle?"
"Logan? What are you doing up?"
"Can... Can I come watch TV with you?"
"Oh, umm. Sorry Logan, it's not really TV. I'm watching... boring big boy TV. It's not very fun."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense."
"I'll turn the volume down. Go back to sleep, you have class in the morning."
"Yeah, I know. Can... can I see Mom's medal one more time?"
"... Yes. Of course... Here, do you... want to hold on to it for a while?"
"Yeah... that'd be nice."
"Ok. Goodnight uh... Goodnight Logan."
"Goodnight Uncle."

 

[Furrybacon]

"This isn't how I wanted to do it Pyotr" The Secretary General said to the shadows in the room,. If anyone was just looking in, they'd think Amihan Rashminga was going mad, talking to the wall.

Especially since the wall gave no response.

"This isn't how I wanted to do it at all." she continued. "Not only do I have to unfuck a skydive without a parachute, I can't use the speech I wrote for this seat. fifty fucking years, Pyotr, I kept an acceptance speech in the back of my fucking drive."
The wall continued to not respond. Rashminga turned back to her computer, in her new office.

"Your task remains the same. My mission remains the same. The stakes remain the same."

The Secretary General's Office did not record any visitors.

---

"When I was a little girl, I remember staring out the windows of Selene City at the Earth. It was always incomprehensibly large. I could not imagine how it could be anything less than the center of the Universe. Nor could I imagine the tragedy that had wrought it for all of its millennia. I could trace out the borders of petty nations from the Sea of Tranquility with my finger, following every contour and salient that my textbooks recorded, and from a quarter of a million miles away, but I could not comprehend why the Center could not hold. So at ten years old, I decided that I would make it hold. I would dedicate my life to the dream of a Humanity fit for the Stars.

I would like to have been able to fulfill this promise in an age of peace, to be the last hand on the hammer and bask in the incomprehensibly massive and singular march to this moment. But the wheels of time does not allow us the luxury of waiting for calmer seas. After a lifetime of devotion to this United Nations, it has called on me to lead it at the time of its greatest trial, the great judgment on if we have risen above our history to forge a new Solar Society.

Ferociously, I regret every misstep and misalignment that has resulted in our present state. The atrophy which permitted out Martian Citizens to be undertaken by radical actors will not persist. But by the same token, we will challenge all those who seek to fail this great challenge of Humankind. This United Nations will not bow to the whims of those who would see all of our progress wasted on another petulant rivalry between nations. It is only by working in harmony, as one united people, that we can survive the coming trials that divide us from fulfilling the starry dream of a trillion humans who have lived and toiled and died. Mars will starve without Earth. Earth will starve without Mars. Unification is the only way forward.

This Rebellion, in fact, no rebellion, arises without a long chain of decisions and failures preceding it. The dream of a Solar age, the culmination of centuries of civilization, can only be failed, and every misstep will be addressed and redressed, and the road of human unity paved towards its inevitable conclusion as a Stellar Civilization.

With the whole Solar System as my Witness, I promise that my great grand children will look out the window of Selene City and see Humanity, whole and indivisible.

Let's get to work."

 

[AMTurtle]

Vova I

​

HENKLEY: Do I refer to you as General or Chief sir?"
VOVA: General this is my title, Chief of Interior Security is my position. Thank you for your consideration.
HENKLEY: Of course General. Now what is it I can assist you with?
VOVA: Nowak recommended to me your services. He says you are a friend I can rely upon for legal services. I read your jacket it was a shame you gave up your fatigues to become a lawyer.
HENKLEY: Pay is nicer.
VOVA: [Chuckles] Of course... of course. Now why I need you here is I am too much of a knuckle dragger to understand the law. I had a few questions.
HENKLEY: By all means General.
VOVA: Now the Martians and other colonials born off Earth are not considered citizens of any nation under the United Nations.
HENKLEY: Technically no General, however...
VOVA: It occurs to me that these rebels are not a recognized state and are incapable of being recognized by the Geneva Convention.
HENKLEY: An argument could be made that these rebels are only protected under Common Article 3.
VOVA: I see why Nowak prefers you, a neat package military discipline with the wit of a lawyer. Now I think a legal argument could be made to treat these rebels as terrorists since we do not recognize their government as legitimate?
HENKLEY: Absolutely, General.
VOVA: Could you argue that the UN mandates are not bound by the Geneva Convention?
HENKLEY: That gets trickier sir due to the Mandates being a combination of nation states. The UN structure of the mandates are themselves up for debate within the assembly and the courts. Some members of the Mandates have signed the Convention, others walked back their commitment to it during the Climate Crisis and others never signed. I can speak to some colleagues, like minded such as ourselves see what they think on the matter.
VOVA: Excellent, excellent. This discussion of the Climate Crisis it reminds me almost all nation states produced laws to ensure stability that would give my office a lot of operating room. Collect those laws, see which ones are active or could be argued are still in effect and get back to me.
HENKLEY: It would be my pleasure General.

 

[Taricus]

The Olympus Memorandum
[Snip]​

Click to shrink...

From: Aran Maegeri
RE: Olympus Memorandum
CC: @Simpli @Terrafirma @Nerdorama ((@LurkingWreck ))

Thomas, I find these analysis results fascinating, though I must keenly point out that a good number of them fail to factor in existing technologies and doctrine also used in The Battle of Deimos; Mass ECM deployment and a particularly lucky surprise attack managing to eliminate the enemy flagship being the two biggest I can point out. Much as that assault was carried out by frame units, it was but a component in that victory that depended on a lot of things that went right for us. These frames are no "Wunderwaffen", they won't win us the war by themselves and are but a component in our greater war machine.

Ultimately, especially with your observation that currently the frames are effectively target practice at long range, they're a tool in our arsenal. One with areas that can be improved on like any other weapon of war (And your apt analysis has indicated several points that can be significantly improved on, especially pilot training. I'll forward some specifications to you for the next gen of 'frame for the martian military later, and I'll see what I can do on the personnel side of things

 

[Silver Gambit]

I breathe in, I feel the scar tissue scattered across my body pull itself taught, a semi-permanent abnormality reminding me of the accident.

I breathe out, I accept the reminder for the wings they are, a symbol of my metamorphosis.

I breathe in, I hear the rumble of engines and the hurried footsteps of the hanger's various workers readying the planes for the planned flight.

I breathe out, they sidestep my supine form with practiced ease, they know better than to interrupt "Monarch" before a flight.

I breathe in, I feel the rays from the hot african sun raining down on my skin and a subtle breeze cooling it soon after, it lightens my soul to feel the sky call so eagerly for its royalty once more.

I breathe out, and with the breath leaves Amal Al Yatim, the scarred orphan who still dreams of burning skies and hurtling coffins. Replaced instead by Monarch, self assured royalty of the sky, above lay only their court and the fools who dared test their mettle inside it.

A sound of hurried footsteps comes from behind and soon after the light from my sun is blocked from reaching its liege.

"Hello!" The voice is chipper and spry, a woman though a young one.

My eyes open smoothly and easily, the light doesn't even need to be adjusted to with the new prosthetics.

The stranger blocking my sun is silhouetted, but I can tell that they are wearing a flight suit and are vaguely caucasian, from the accent I'd guess American as well.

"I'm told you're Monarch," undeterred by my silence the stranger continues, "I'm Prez, your new wizzo."

Predictable in retrospect, the last one died in the accident and they had only been my WSO for a few weeks prior. Command tended to cycle my ride-alongs out quickly, most of them complained about not being able to keep up after the first few flights.

Odd to think that if the rumors were true about frames eventually replacing fighters entirely I won't even need a WSO anymore.

I raise my hand into the air towards Prez, she eyes it oddly for a moment before I see her eyes widen as she reaches out to grab it. The hand shake is awkward in this position but it gets the point across well enough. Even if she'd probably only be around for a few flights at most it always pays to be polite to the ride-alongs.

After the awkward hand shake I take advantage of the new found leverage her hand gives me and pull myself up to a standing position.

We stare at each other eye to eye for a moment in silence, after an eternity she nods her head with a satisfied look on her face, "I've decided."

I raise a thin dark brow in question.

"Everyone that warned me about accepting this position are all cowards, I like you so far." she says as she places her hands on her hips and smirks.

Despite myself I can't help but let out a brief chuckle, really it's more of a puff of air, and nod towards her with a smirk of my own.

We'll see how long she lasts.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the flight, it was a boring one really just a quick trip into the air and routine patrol to add more flight hours, the whole squadron went out for drinks.

I, as the only non-American in the squadron, mostly minded my own business off to the side in my own booth.

My accent was thick and I hated trying to communicate past it when I was sober let alone drunk.

A glass clicks in front of me suddenly, glancing up I see Prez slide into the booth across from me with a glass of her own. The new WSO handled the flight better than any of my past ride-alongs had at least, she was even able to stay conscious when I really turned up the G's.

She says something while smiling, she has a pretty smile, but I'm not really paying attention and just simply nod along when my brain tells me it's time to nod and shake my head when it tells me it's time for that. It's nice to have the company, none of the other wizzo's had bothered to try and talk outside of the job before. When I see her take a long drink from her glass I look into the glass of beer that she had offered me, inside the bubbles my mind conjures the image of a flock of birds soaring in the evening sky.

When the birds turn into burning fighter planes I close my eyes a little too hard before forcing my faintly glowing eyes back open, the bubbles are only bubbles again.

"I hope you stay, I like you too."

The words slip out from my lips without me meaning to let them out, they are barely louder than a whisper yet I already regret letting them out.

I see her eyes widen over the top of her glass, I shrink into my jacket a little under her gaze.

She slams her glass down, standing up suddenly and leans over the table between us with her arms holding up her weight. "I didn't know your voice was so pretty!"

I shrink even further into my jacket, frustrated that despite all the enhancements and prosthetics I've gotten installed since the accident, not one of them hinders the heat creeping up my cheeks.

This only seems to urge her on as she lets out a quiet squeal, before I know it she's on my side of the booth and pulling me into a bone crushing hug.

Despite the scene she's making and the embarrassment clawing its way through my whole being, I can't help but think that this WSO isn't so bad.

Only time will tell how she handles it when court is really in session though.

 

[EternalStruggle]

"Long live the Free Mars!" As Lane Novak's speech drew to a conclusion, the crowd erupted into standard-issue applause. The President had tapped into the popular mood to deliver a firey speech, in so doing inaugurating the new era. With the Martian Declaration of Independence signed, there was truly no going back to the way things used to be. While that had been obvious ever since Deimos, changing the state of affairs from de facto to de jure still had an undeniable power.

"You tell 'em, Lane," Godal Gorton chuckled as the clapping wound down. "A miner's kid running the whole show, that'll be a bee in Earth's bonnet and no mistake! Couldn't have picked a better one to lead us, too."

"Wait, you know the President, Commander?" Green-5 asked, looking across in surprise.

"Well, I don't think she'd recognise me if that's what you mean. But we did used to run in the same circles back in the good old days, so I do know of her, if mostly by reputation. And quit calling me Commander while we're on shore leave, boy, you're making me feel all wisened and professional."

"Ah, er, of course, sir!" The newest member of the squadron chirped, receiving a selection of snorts and chuckles in response.

"The good old days... before New Denver?" Green-3 said distantly, all but dancing beside the group as she spun around without quite realising she was doing it.

"I mean, doesn't get older and gooder than that, right old timer?" Green-4 said, steadying her wingmate as she concluded her turn.

"Old timer! I swear, you kids'll age me right into an early grave. But yes, back then. There's the Good Years, but despite what some of you might think, that was long enough ago to be before my time. At New Denver, too." His expression hardened somewhat at the memory, even over eight years on. "I'm not saying everyone who was there knows everyone else, but if you were there you were there, and if you weren't then you weren't. I can't explain it better than that." He nodded up at the towering, masked figure of Green-2, who nodded back in silent understanding.

"So now what?" Green-4 said, leaning in. "Big speech, Martian independence. We got any plans?"

"Well, I expect we'll be called back up soon enough. This leave won't last much longer, even if the UN won't be launching a new invasion fleet for months yet. We need to prepare for it in advance, after all. But until then... hell, let's just enjoy ourselves. Why not, eh? We've earned that much, I think. We could all use the chance to visit family while we can, if nothing else."

With a chorus of overlapping affirmations, the other members of his now formalised squadron split off, heading towards very different destinations. For his part, though, Godal Gorton stayed where he was, walking off to the side before briefly before taking a deep breath of raw Martian air. Cold, certainly. Dangerous in excess, even. Air he'd tasted countless times, but now tasted ineffably different. For lack of a better term, the air was now full of freedom and justice. Long-denied, and grasped by the many hands of now-independent Mars.

He looked up at the sky above, and smiled. "It's a fine smell, Desmond. A fine smell!"

Spoiler: Green Team Personnel Dossiers

Green-1 (Godal Gorton)
Title: The Green Guardian
Age: 33
Biography: Known.
Politics: Parkerite Republican

Green-2
Callsign: Battlemaster
Age: 31
Biography: Another Martian miner for whom enough was simply enough, Battlemaster sustained severe wounds than during the fighting, culminating in crowd-control chemical weapons followed up by an unfortunate case of Rust Lung that nearly killed the man, with a hasty surgery installing a low-end respirator cybernetic the only thing saving his life. His heavy, wheezing breath remains his signature to this day, and he almost never takes off his pilot suit and its supply of filtered oxygen. Despite this, he maintains a broad physique and is just as strong as he looks, and his experience with mining explosives made him Green Team's anti-ship specialist during the Battle of Deimos. His callsign comes from his time with Spartanian infantry during the long years of struggle, an ironic appelation based on the fact he was one of the few in his cell of mostly military defectors without formal combat training or experience prior to joining.
Politics: Spartanian Moderate. Hard experience has taught him that civilians don't know the true cost of war, and that in this state of emergency soldiers can and should take control of Martian policy, both foreign and domestic. War with Earth is a necessity to keep Mars safe, and should be prepared for and then prosecuted with all due speed. However, he disagrees with the extremist notions of a Martian warrior-aristocracy being mankind's permanent rulers.

Green-3
Title: The Seer of Deimos
Age: 20
Biography: Fundamentally an experiment by experimental bioscientists sponsored by the Edenist Church, the Seer was created from the ground up to test genetic engineering and biological enhancement techniques. As well as general tune-ups, she was gifted an enhanced autonomic nervous system capable of performing some of the tasks traditionally associated with the somatic nervous system, which was then grafted to an augmented cerebellum capable of providing highly capable predictions the nervous system then acted upon, granting negative reaction time. In other words, when everything lined up right she could react to events before they happened.

Regretabbly, the experiment largely didn't pay off. The body regularly acting of its own accord, without much ability to control the phenomenon, proved discomforting and distressing, and it proved impossible to improve the expensive modifications or find a way to graft them to individuals outside the womb or test tube. While the scientists responsible for raising her will stress until they're blue in the face that this doesn't reflect badly on Green-3 at all, the experiment was deemed a failure and was never pursued further. Green-3 would eventually come to rationalise her traits as being spiritual, the result of the spirits of Mars acting through her due to some form of psychic ability she possessed despite her knowledge of the objective truth. While tests have been conducted, no evidence has ever been found that supports her belief.

Eventually, she ended up drifting to the FMM for want of anything better to do. It turned out that the one place she was most comfortable was in the cockpit of a Frame during combat, where her incredible reaction times could finally be put to good use. A devastating force of space superiority during the destruction of the 4th Fleet, no foe could ever evade her weapons, securing her title as the Seer of Deimos.
Politics: Edenist. The Church is Mother, the Church is Father. What else is there to be said?

Green-4
Title: The Miracle Flash
Age: 22
Biography: A corporate scion and the second best pilot in Green Team, Green-4 is a junior heiress to one of the prominent heavy industrial production firms on Mars, with a particular specialty in Worker-Frames. While a notably less powerful company than Rainer Heavy Industries, it was still more than large enough for the children of its chairman of the board to live lives of contentment and utter luxury. However, this particular young mistress had a competitive strike a mile wide, and was the furthest thing from content no matter how large her swimming pool was. What she craved more than anything else was success, trophies, awards, and accolades.

So it was that she ended up joining the Free Martian forces in the runup to Deimos, not out of any principled revolutionary sentiment but instead because she'd learned she had a modest talent with Frames, which she then nurtured into a ferocious ability with nothing but sheer bloody-minded determination and simulator hours. When the time came, she disabled all limiters and went on to cut a path through the UN forces going further and faster than anyone else in Green Team, at least until she ended up the first in the Martian force to run out of fuel and ammunition. The sight of her customised Frame going at unmatched speeds seemed to be a much needed boon to allied forces, resulting in her being referred to as 'that miraculous flash'. From there, her title was earned.

Unfortunately, despite her success, she has notably not been considered one of Mars' top pilots. Despite her legitimately impressive skill, a combination of issues caused by her overconfidence and the fact that several others were legitimately much better pilots than her even discounting that meant that she didn't receive the spotlight she so craved, frustrating her to no end. She's since promised that she'll surpass the Green Guardian, not to mention the other Titled of Deimos, and take her rightful place at the top. Nobody other than her believes that she actually will, but Godal indulges her, beleving it would be cruel to crush her dreams.
Politics: Apolitical. In practice, sees no particular reason for massive changes from Earth's system of governance beyond making things less blatantly oppressive and cutting some of the bloated UN bueracracy, making her a Red Consortiumist with modest Parkerite Republican leanings, but politics really isn't one of her main concerns.

Green-5
Nicknames: Grass, Kid, Nugget
Age: 18 (Alleged)
Biography: Much like his political idol Zara Yadgar, the Kid's family was killed during the New Denver riots as they spread out of control. Unlike her, he had no one else to turn to and wasn't old enough to support himself, and so he was taken in by his community. Said community just so happened to be a League commune/cell, and he grew up to be a card-carrying member. Despite his new extended family's misgivings, he joined up with the Free Martian military in the aftermath of Deimos, and ended up scoring top marks with Frames despite his newness as a pilot. He ended up assigned to Green Team, the unit's one new member. His records were destroyed over the course of the revolution, but he swears he's 18, and nobody's corrected him as of yet.
Politics: Martian Liberation League. Although he's not exactly sure about the idea of continuing the war by taking it to Earth as a vanguard, he otherwise completely supports the sociopolitical and economic platform of the MLL, believing that it's now both possible and good to create a truly revolutionary society, one which upholds freedom and just for all without discrimination or inequity.

 

[Azecreth]

Nyles sipped from a cup of tea as he watched the sun rise from his office window. Behind him he knew that a tv was silently displaying the daily news, the reports of all the chaos and calamity currently playing out across the planet. Yet for the moment he was able to enjoy the peace and calm as he prepared for another day of work. It had taken a lot of effort to reach here, and he was not about to let some societal chaos keep him from enjoying it.

He hadn't always gotten to enjoy such small luxuries like this. His career had consisted of long hours, meetings late and night with people across the globe.Sure, it wasn't as if he had been elected to this position, but that did not mean he had not worked hard to get where he was. Put in the hours, traded favors, bowed and scraped for those who held power. It wasn't as if he had had everything handed to him on a silver platter.

And now here we was, presiding over a Mandate of two continents. he'd come a long way, at least in his o0wn estimation. And if he played this right, there was every possibility that he could rise even higher.

But, not for the moment. he had to prove himself first. He didn't envy Rashminga, having to take over in this situation. Economic turmoil, a popular uprising on Mars, all the troubles here on Earth and in the Colonies. But everything he'd heard told him that she had the balls to handle it. And if she didn't, well, they would cross that bridge if they came to it. Nonetheless, she had fought to get there and there was no doubting her capability or her commitment. He couldn't say the same of himself right now.

Another sip of his drink before he let out a sigh. That was enough for the higher level of things. Right now he needed to focus on his own responsibilities and making sure that his own bread stayed butter. There was a lot of anger at unaccountable individuals as well as corporate executives, and unfortunately he happened to be both. He would need to be careful with his public actions, at least for the near future.

Still, that alone wasn't the end of the world. He knew how to handle the heat, especially after the Greenreef Scandal. A good PR team, knowing the right people, and as long as he didn't shove his foot into his mouth on live global television he'd be fine.

Now he just had to figure out how he was going to solve the other crises at hand. Maybe a bank freeze, public works, efforts to streamline industry, or something like that? He could only affect what was in his own Mandate, but he was sure there were options at hand. He'd need to talk to his advisors and see what suggestions they had.

One last tip of his cup and Nyles glanced down to find that it was empty. "Well, I suppose it's time to get to it." Turning back to his desk, he took his AI Assistant off of silent mode and accessed the first waiting message. The world wasn't going to wait, and as the good businessman would always say, time was money.