Chapter 9: Memories of the Past

“God bless!”

Seated in the shuttle, André, the commander of the second vehicle, heard the quiet prayer beside him from his pilot, Kennard, who was flying for the first time and seemed a bit nervous.

“Don’t worry, brother. This thing is very safe. The chance of an accident is even lower than when you’re driving a tank. Rest assured!”

“Really? You’re not lying to me?”

“Absolutely not. See that guy over there?”

Kennard looked toward Makarius, who was seated by the window in the same row. Makarius had already unfastened his uniform collar, skillfully extended the footrest beneath his seat, and requested a blanket from the flight attendant, clearly planning to sleep all the way to their destination.

“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe!”

Makarius emphasized calmly, then pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes.

Seeing their captain so relaxed, Kennard let out a sigh of relief and decided to follow suit and try to sleep. Yet, if someone were to lift Makarius’s blanket at that moment, they would find his eyelids tightly clenched, tense and alert.

“I’ve lived a hard life already. No fear. No fear! Relax, relax!”

Though he comforted himself with these words, a cold, suffocating feeling still crept steadily into Makarius’s heart, almost making him dizzy.

This was not a physiological defect. In fact, in his previous life in another world, as a corporate drone, he had taken countless flights for business trips and always landed safely. Even his crossing over was due to rescuing a child in front of a mud truck. He didn’t understand why he had ended up in the world of Mobile Suit Gundam—perhaps because he was still holding the authentic Bandai model he’d bought in Japan at the time.

In this new world, he was born a healthy infant and lived a normal life until he was thirteen. That year, while accompanying his mother to the Zeon Principality for the inauguration of the spaceport, their shuttle was hijacked by unknown terrorists. The attackers attempted to crash the shuttle into the spaceport. Despite the security forces’ efforts, they were no match for the well-armed assailants.

In the fierce close-quarters gunfight, Makarius, desperate to survive, grabbed a dropped weapon and fired at the swarming terrorists at point-blank range.

In the zero-gravity shuttle, torn flesh, fallen attackers, and contorted corpses of victims floated everywhere. The thick stench of blood mixed with the acrid smell of gunpowder seared into Makarius’s memory. The dozens of passengers huddled in corners like frightened sheep. Only Makarius, clad in a tattered suit with a bow tie around his neck, stood guard at the crew cabin door, clutching a submachine gun far larger than himself, protecting his mother and the other survivors.

Later, under the gaze of the survivors, the newly built spaceport—an immense investment of money and manpower—exploded into a fleeting ball of fire. Rescue teams spent two days retrieving the shuttle from the drifting debris in space and rescuing the passengers.

Though the Zeon authorities claimed the attackers were linked to the Earth Federation, it was clear to anyone that this was merely another purge. Since the Zabi family seized power, Zeon had launched a massive bloody crackdown on domestic opposition, reaching a scale of 200,000 people. The Federation’s involvement was just an excuse. Those who died were mostly moderate supporters of the former national leader, Deikun, who advocated political negotiation with the Federation and maintained close economic ties. Makarius’s mother’s collaborators were among them.

The Zabi family, desperate to rule through radical means, could not tolerate them. The spaceport explosion was just another opportunity to eliminate dissenters.

Since then, Makarius had developed a profound psychological trauma toward shuttles, though he never showed it in front of others, always masking it with a nonchalant demeanor.

As the shuttle launched, his discomfort intensified until it passed through the atmosphere, and the suffocating sensation finally subsided. Then, he heard the amazed exclamations around him.

“Wow, Earth!”
“So beautiful!”
“Look, look!”

Several trainees and officers who had never left Earth eagerly unbuckled their seatbelts and floated to the windows, practically stretching their heads out. Those accustomed to space just smiled and went on with their business.

At André and Yudin’s urging, Makarius feigned waking, lifted his blanket, and looked to his right.

Outside the window, endless darkness filled the view. Yet, in the lower left of the darkness, a blue hemisphere bathed in a soft glow pushed back the chilling void. The light was not as dazzling as the sun but still brought warmth and comfort.

“Take some pictures for me!”

Yudin, floating near the ceiling and leaning head-to-head with those seated, brandished his new camera and posed as if holding Earth gently in his palm.

Makarius gritted his teeth and forced himself to overcome his unease to act as the photographer. Fortunately, the novelty faded quickly. Soon, the group grew tired of group photos and began to play with the vanished gravity inside the cabin, spinning around in 360-degree somersaults and such.

But soon, a flight attendant floated over and asked everyone to return to their seats and fasten their seatbelts—the orbital defense base of the Space Forces had arrived!

Suddenly, ahead of the shuttle appeared a massive asteroid equipped with a thermonuclear engine, tens of kilometers in diameter. Originally, the Earth Federation used such asteroids to mine minerals. After hollowing out the interior, they transformed them into various facilities. The Space Forces headquarters, Moon Goddess II, was created this way, though that asteroid was larger—about 180 kilometers in diameter.

Before the shuttle approached, identity verification took place. Two FFS-3 Swordfish fighters flew out to escort the shuttle. Then, led by the Swordfish, the shuttle approached a huge square artificial hatch in the center of the asteroid.

Two rows of bright laser beams shot out from either side of the open hatch, providing data correction for the landing shuttle. The pilot, an expert, made no mistakes and guided the shuttle through the gates, docking smoothly at the internal airlock.