My name is Bridget Rhodes. To the Federation, I am a Sergeant Major of the Principality of Zeon. To the people of Thunder Bay, I am Yvonne Montana, a lounge singer with a tragic smile. But in my soul, I am still an ice skater whose career ended in the snap of a bone and the cold medicinal smell of a hospital wing. I landed on Earth in U.C. 0079, stationed in Timmins, Canada, after we seized a Federation base. It was there I met a commander who piloted a Zaku II FS, painted in colors strikingly similar to Garma Zabi's custom unit.
Before my time on Earth, I piloted a Zaku II during the "Battle of Loum" in space. Alongside Colonel Char Aznable and the Black Tri-Stars, I helped tear through Federation Salamis-class cruisers and Saberfish fighters. To stay calm in the heat of battle, I always play music on my MP3 player; it's the only thing that keeps my nerves steady. We began our atmospheric invasion following the colony drop on Sydney, Australia—an operation originally intended for Jaburo in South America. Eventually, we successfully wrestled control of the Earth from the Federation forces.
On Earth, I was assigned to pilot a prototype mobile suit: the YMS-08B Dom Test Type. It was developed from the MS-06RD-4 Zaku High Mobility Test Type, but featured a redesigned head, chest, shoulders, and backpack. Most notably, the waist and legs were replaced with a new hover system that allowed for high-speed travel, far superior to walking. Many mobile suits were being mass-produced at the California Base then, funded heavily by the Zabi family—especially amphibious and ground-combat units. They wanted me to field-test this prototype to finalize the development of the MS-09B Dom, which would soon join the ground-warfare roster alongside the MS-09R Rick Dom.
The suit featured a cross-shaped mono-eye, a heat saber, and thermal jet engines for its hovering capabilities. For the trials, the Dom Test Type was armed with a massive Beam Bazooka containing a built-in generator. However, due to its erratic firing performance, the weapon was never officially adopted.
Finally, I changed into my pilot suit and climbed into the cockpit. The controls felt familiar, but as I began the configuration sequence, a Brigadier General approached the suit.
"Sergeant Major Bridget, can you handle this prototype?" the commander asked.
"I just need to finish the configuration, Brigadier General," I replied while adjusting the systems.
"This new hover system... I'm eager to see how it feels."
"Think of it like a sports car, or like skating," the General said. "I know you were an competitive ice skater before the war, so this should be second nature to you. Good luck." He stepped away from the cockpit, and I sealed the hatch.
...I didn't want to remember my past life. Before joining the Zeon forces, I was a dedicated athlete. As a child, I loved skating so much that I turned pro, winning many medals. But everything changed after an accident during a performance. I suffered severe joint injuries and stress fractures, leaving me no choice but to retire. Joining the military wasn't my first choice, but the rising tensions with the "Earthlings" pushed me to enlist. After years of service, I rose to the rank of Sergeant Major.
Now, sitting inside the Dom Test Type, I engaged the thermonuclear jets. I gingerly walked the massive machine out of the hangar, armed with a 90mm machine gun and a heat saber. Following the General's order to begin the trial, I activated my MP3 player, letting rock and roll fill my headset. I engaged the hover system. At slow speeds, it felt like driving a standard car—completely different from the clunky, rhythmic walking of a Zaku I or II.
I pushed the throttle, increasing the Dom's speed to its maximum of 381 km/h. At that velocity, it felt like piloting a high-end sports car. I began to bank, maneuvering from left to right, darting forward and back. Every time I moved the joystick and pressed the pedals to the tempo of the music, I felt it: I was back on the ice.
"...Incredible... I feel like I'm skating again," I whispered.
I began live-fire tests. The Dom was significantly faster than a Zaku, making it the perfect machine for "hit and run" tactics. I could fire and swing the heat saber with fluid precision while hovering. It was exhilarating. I was a performer again. I drew the heat saber, the blade glowing a searing yellow, and sliced through a practice drone in one fluid, high-speed pass. This was the ultimate "hit and run" machine. Later, I took the suit into real combat, participating in missions around Chicago where I took down the Federation's new RGM-79 GM units. With every mission, the music and the movement brought me back to the rink.
But the tide of war turned. Following the death of Garma Zabi in New York, the fall of Odessa, and our defeat at Jaburo, our only remaining stronghold was the California Base. The "White Base" and its "White Devil"—the RX-78-2 Gundam—had devastated our forces. In November, my commander, the Brigadier General, was K.I.A. during a mission in Canada. He had been piloting a Z'Gok rather than his custom Zaku II FS. Distraught, I ordered the remaining troops to evacuate Timmins immediately aboard a "Fat Uncle" transport plane.
As I boarded the transport, I was surprised to see the late General's Zaku II stored in the deck. Also on board was Kirk Szyslak. Kirk was a nightmare: wildly inappropriate, corrupt, unhinged, impulsive, loud-mouthed, and cowardly. He was a loud-mouthed hedonist who solved every problem with senseless violence, never considering the safety of his personnel. Most Zeon soldiers loathed him.
Our escape was a disaster. Federation Saberfish and Core Boosters harassed us relentlessly. With the Fat Uncle badly damaged, we were forced to make a hard landing in Marathon, Ontario. We spotted a Mad Angler-class submarine in the lake, and I moved to intercept the Federation mobile suits closing in on us. I saw him hijacking the late General's custom Zaku II FS. I asked Kirk for support, but he refused. He chose to save his own skin, sprinting toward the Mad Angler in the General's Zaku II FS.
"Kirk! We need cover fire! Get that Zaku into position!" I screamed over the comms.
"Hell no, woman!" Kirk's voice crackled, followed by a manic, wheezing laugh. "I'm not getting my ass kicked for a sinking ship! I'm heading for the Mad Angler! You're on your own!"
He turned the Zaku and fled toward the submarine waiting in the lake, leaving us to die. I had to hold the line alone. Armed with my heat saber and a Giant Bazooka, I held the line with the remaining soldiers. Even as I took damage from GM machine guns and bazookas, I managed to survive. My Dom Test Type was battered, its armor scarred by 90mm rounds, but I fought like a woman possessed. I burned through my Giant Bazooka ammo and took the rest down with the heat saber, dancing between Federation GMs until the field was silent. Once the Federation forces were repelled, I opened the comms.
"All Zeon forces, status report. Where is your Captain?"
"We're alright, Sergeant Major Rhodes," a soldier replied. "But the Captain was K.I.A. before you arrived."
"Crew, what is the status of the Mad Angler?" I asked.
"We can't submerge, Sergeant Major," a voice replied. "The hull is too badly damaged. It's too risky."
Suddenly, Kirk broke into the channel, screaming at the crew to fix the sub immediately. However, the damage was critical; it could only be fully repaired at a main base. We couldn't make it to Wawa or Sault Ste. Marie. Our only hope was Thunder Bay. We hid the Mad Angler at McKellar Island. I ordered the troops to disguise themselves as civilians to blend into the city. Kirk, naturally, refused to hide, choosing to stay holed up inside the sub.
In Thunder Bay, Federation soldiers led by Genevieve Cholmondeley and her right-hand man, Nox O'Neil Nielson, patrolled the streets in RGM-79 GMs and Ground Type GMs. We laid low. I took a job at a bar using the alias "Yvonne Montana"—names taken from my mother and late grandfather. I worked as a singer, while my fellow soldiers acted as my band.
By late November, the atmosphere in Thunder Bay turned poisonous. Rumors spread that the city was harboring Zeon sympathizers.the city turned into a slaughterhouse. Genevieve ordered a "cleansing," claiming the city was harboring Zeon spies. The Federation began inspecting and beating civilians. Nox watched the brutality from the cockpit of his red-shouldered RX-79[G] Ground Type Gundam, clearly enjoying the chaos. The local Military Police (M.P.), horrified by the violation of protocol and the senseless violence, began to push back.
The situation escalated into a horror show. The M.P.s tried to protect the civilians, but the Federation opened fire on the crowds and their own M.P. allies. The sound of GM bullpup machine guns was deafening. Blood splattered the pavement. It was a massacre—young, old, even infants. The Federation pilots called it "fun." To me, it was a waking nightmare.
I couldn't just sing while the world screamed. I drove to McKellar Island, reaching the hidden Mad Angler. I ordered the troops to mobilize. I donned my pilot suit and prepped the Dom Test Type, but Kirk tried to block my way.
"Bridget, get down this instant! We don't have permission to sortie!" he shouted from the hangar floor.
"We don't need permission, Kirk! We don't even have a Captain in command! I'm stopping this tyranny before they find us!" I yelled back, ignoring him completely.
I led a ragtag group—a Zaku I, a Gouf, a Z'Gok, and an Acguy—into the city. We arrived just as the Federation was using civilians for target practice.
"Oy, the Zeon suits are here," a Federation pilot remarked.
"Look at this!" Nox shouted over the open frequency. "The Zeon rats finally crawled out of the sewer! I never knew the Commodore's fake execution order would actually lure the Zeon scum out!" Nox's voice crackled over the radio, sounding delighted. "This is so... EXCITING!"
We were outnumbered: five of us against seven of them, including Nox's Gundam Ground Type. I switched on my music to drown out the fear and ordered my team to be careful.
The battle was a blur. To save ammo, I relied on my speed and my heat saber. The Dom's thrusters allowed me to slice through GM shields and armor with ease. The battle was a blur of adrenaline and hatred. My Dom was a ghost, hovering through the narrow streets of Thunder Bay. I used the buildings for cover, sliding around corners at 200 km/hr to bury my heat saber into the backs of Federation GMs. After I downed several GMs, Nox targeted me. I dodged his beam rifle fire and pushed the pedals to the floor, engaging him in a melee struggle. Nox was different. He was fast. He swung his reinforced shield like a hammer, nearly crushing my cockpit. I pulled a hard 180-degree turn, the thermal jets screaming, and narrowly avoided his beam saber. We traded blows until Genevieve, realizing the tide was turning, ordered a tactical withdrawal.
Surprisingly, Nox eventually ordered his remaining GM to fall back, leaving the field to us. As my troops stood down, the people of Thunder Bay and the surviving M.P.s gathered around the feet of my Dom. I expected anger, but they were cheering. They thanked us for stopping Genevieve's regime. The M.P. leader asked to speak face-to-face. I exited the cockpit, revealing my face to the crowd. The M.P. leader approached my Dom, his hat in his hand.
"I never thought I'd say this to a Zeke," he said, looking up at me as I opened the hatch. "This is awkward, but... thank you for your help, Zeon soldier," the M.P. leader said.
"You're Federation M.P.s," I replied cautiously. "I know you protect civilians while the regulars do the fighting. We should leave."
"Wait! Stay with us!" a man cried out.
"Please! We can't survive this oppression alone!" an elderly woman pleaded.
The civilians and the M.P.s begged us to stay. They explained that the M.P.s hated the regular Federation army as much as we did—the regulars were arrogant and treated the M.P.s like second-class citizens. I agreed to stay on one condition: they had to help us fix the Mad Angler. They agreed, though they couldn't provide ammo without being caught. However, a local shopkeeper showed us a secret underground tunnel leading to McKellar Island—a tunnel built by Zeon scouts earlier in 0079 that had remained hidden under a shop.
When the M.P.s arrived at the sub to begin repairs, the crew was on high guard. Kirk was especially paranoid, but the repairs began nonetheless.
On January 1st, 0080, a peace declaration was signed. We were no longer "Zeon," but "Spacenoids" again. Most went home, but those of us stuck on Earth became known as "Zeon Remnants." During that year, I met an ex-Federation soldier named Markus Armstrong. He had been using an MS-05B Zaku I to protect his neighborhood from rebel GMs. I offered him a job protecting Thunder Bay, and he joined us to keep his family safe.
By 0081, however, the peace shattered. Genevieve and Nox returned to Thunder Bay. She seized control of the M.P. forces and began a new wave of executions. In June, on Canadian Armed Forces Day, the M.P. leader who had helped us was executed. I ordered my crew and Markus to flee to the Mad Angler immediately.
The atmosphere inside the sub was thick with terror. Kirk was making things worse, screaming that we had to leave despite our lack of ammunition. After a heated debate, Kirk stormed off. I could sense something "fishy" about him. I told the crew to hold their posts and urged Markus to get his family and meet us so we could escape toward Cuba.
But as for Kirk Szyslak... I have a terrible feeling. He's up to something, and it won't be good for any of us. The music is playing again in my ears. But this time, it's a funeral march.
To be continued.