More lives than I could possibly comprehend would be lost as a result of Operation british. My hands began shaking. I would go down in history as a greater monster than the members of the Schutzstaffel or the Khmer Rouge.
No, no. This was all a dream. It had to be.
Even if it wasn't a dream, my own life took priority. Self-preservation was the most basic of all human instincts. I looked over at the hole in my cockpit and noticed that the glass of my helmet was cracked. As things were, the G4 gas would be able to reach me, and one tally would be added to the death toll of ten million.
"Hold on a second. I need to patch my cockpit before we release the gas," I said as my Zaku knelt down onto one knee.
In a voice filled with legitimate concern, Hotchkiss said, "You'll need to hurry. The other teams will start dispersing the gas whether we're ready or not."
With a few motions of the controls, I made my Zaku grab its shoulder-mounted shield and tear it off. The shield came off easily once I grabbed it in the right spot. That was the benefit of modular building. With the shield in my Zaku's left hand, I holstered my 105mm rifle and commanded the Zaku's right hand to grab the shield on the other side. I pressed the shield against the damaged part of my cockpit and slowly pressed the crumpling metal against the Zaku's chest until it formed a shear adhesion.
I drew my Heat Hawk, a house-sized axe with a blade that was super-heated to several thousand degrees Celsius, and pressed it to the area where the shield touched the Zaku's chest armor. After just a few seconds of work, the shield was welded against my Zaku's chest, and I was fully entombed within my mobile suit.
A small notification popped up on my HUD, telling me that my cockpit was once more airtight. I sighed in relief. Death had been staved off for at least a few more minutes.
"Great idea, Lieutenant," Vultee said.
"I feel the need to warn you, sir, that you will not be able to eject with your Zaku like that," Ensign Hotchkiss said, and I could hear the frown in his voice.
"We work with what we have," I muttered over the radio.
Our squadron continued walking through the city, shaking the ground with each step. The road we were following had six lanes, though I felt like I was walking down a narrow alleyway. After a few minutes of walking, I heard a nearby bang, and my HUD informed me that my Zaku's head had just been hit from my direct left. That should have been impossible, I thought. There were nothing but impassable buildings to my left.
I swiveled my Zaku's entire body to find the source of the attack, and I immediately came face-to-face with my attacker. Standing on top of the building next to me, a group of soldiers were firing into my Zaku. With their elevated position on top of the building, their firing position was just one or two meters away from my Zaku's head.
It was a surreal experience, and I found myself watching the blue-clad soldiers attack me with a grim curiosity. They were firing at me with an emplaced machine gun. If I were to guess, it was probably chambered in .50 BMG. Despite the gun's high caliber, it barely even dented my Zaku's armor.
Each soldier was smaller than my Zaku's head, and the profound ineffectiveness of their attack was pitiful. I was just about to turn away from the soldiers when three 105mm shells hit their position, and the upper half of their building was instantaneously destroyed.
"Careful, Lieutenant," Officer Vultee said as his Zaku swiveled forward once more. "They might have damaged your camera."
"Yeah," I said, looking at the blackened husk that had been a populated building moments before. The soldiers' position was destroyed by such an overwhelming force that I couldn't find any evidence that they had ever existed. "Thanks."
Soon after, we reached a large empty park in the center of town. The park had once been a fairground, but it must have been evacuated. Unfortunately for them, evacuating to a bunker on the colony would be pointless. The Zaku in front reached the center of the park and knelt down on one knee.
"We're here," Hotchkiss said tersely as his Zaku pulled a palm-sized grenade from its hip, pulled the pin, and placed it on the ground.
"Perfect," Vultee said cheerily. He followed suit, placing the primed G3 Gas grenade on the ground.
Ten million lives now, three billion lives in five days.
Almost automatically, my Zaku grabbed the G3 Gas grenade. With the aid of muscle memory, drawing the grenade was easy, but I couldn't convince my hands to perform the rest of the operation.
It was the moment of truth. Was I the kind of man who could carry out such a massacre? Was I brave enough to deny the Principality of Zeon and die a pointless death? I could be court martialed and executed, or I could become a monster.
"Lieutenant Dogwood?" Vultee asked. "Is your mobile suit malfunctioning?"
"It's not," I said as my Zaku pulled the pin on the grenade.
Survival was my only priority. As it finally dawned on me that I was not dreaming and this was my new reality, I chose my own life over the lives of three billion strangers. I was engaged in a war that would end in the death of more than half of humanity and more than 90% of all military-aged men. If I was going to live, others would have to die.
"Great!" Vultee said, and I couldn't sense any sarcasm from the man.
There was a pop-up on my HUD.
[ACTIVATE GAS GRENADES?]
[YES/NO]
Right, it was only natural that the squad leader would have to send the command for the mission-critical stratagem. Feeling a twinge of guilt and disgust that was growing weaker by the second, I reached forward and made my selection.
[YES]