Above the clouds, a passenger plane was flying toward the city of New Sydney.
Four Jegans were perched atop Federation Base Jabber sub-flight systems. The cameras beneath their visors constantly zoomed and retracted, scanning the surrounding area.
"We have arrived at the relief zone. Please continue forward; the Kimberley Force escort division will be waiting for you ahead."
Seeing that the airliner had reached the designated area, the leader of the escort squad spoke.
"There will be a brief defensive vacuum during the rotation period. Please remain cautious."
Inside the cabin of the airliner, watching the Jegan escort unit turn back to base, the Tax Collector for the Australia region felt a headache coming on.
Leaning back into his comfortable seat, he reached up to rub his forehead.
"The Federation just suffered a defeat at Oenbelli; why on earth are they opening this Man-Hunter conference in New Sydney?"
"It's said that a large number of Mafty MS and Zeon remnants appeared during that Federation defeat."
At that moment, the Commander-in-Chief of the Australian Man Hunter units was enjoying a glass of champagne recently brought by a flight attendant.
He slowly swirled the glass. The bubbles clinging to the inner walls rose steadily—much like his own position among the elite. Wealth, like those bubbles, rose automatically into his pocket under the influence of power that flowed like wine.
"Now, although the Federation failed to capture Oenbelli, according to Kimberley's reports, Mafty suffered heavy losses. They have now disbanded and scattered, turning back into rats in the gutters."
The Australian Man Hunter Commander set down his champagne. "Operations for the Man Hunter units in Australia can also be strengthened. Taxes that originally couldn't be collected can now be gathered; this will be a major political achievement for both you and me."
"Moreover, the Federation needs to use this conference to assert its claim over Australia. Otherwise, rebellious sentiments here are inevitable and could even affect other Federation regions."
"Fair enough..."
The Tax Collector sighed. Even if he had any dissatisfaction regarding the decision to hold a meeting in a region of Australia that was not yet secure, he did not dare voice it.
After all, he was merely a negligible gear in the Federation machine, and beneath him, there were many other gears waiting to replace him.
If he said something he shouldn't, agencies like the Ministry of Internal Affairs or the Investigation Bureau would likely show up the next second to drag him from his position.
Just as the Man Hunter Commander craved the power in his hands, so too did the Tax Collector.
"...Let's just hope nothing goes wrong during this defensive vacuum."
-----------------------------------
On the Pacific Ocean, aboard the Valiant.
Within the modified interior, four Messers were already perched atop two Galcezon transports, awaiting takeoff.
To obtain the airliner's departure time, flight path, and other data, they had sifted through a mountain of information, and a special team had even been assigned to watch those officials board the plane.
Beep, beep, beep...
On a console on the bridge, the radar scan showed a signal representing the passenger plane, along with four signals identified as Jegans. As the four Jegans began to withdraw, the radar observer picked up the intercom.
"Big fish sighted. Cast the net!"
"It's time. Launch," Hathaway said, standing in the hangar as he heard the message over the intercom.
The hatches opened and the Galcezons began to ascend. The backwash from the thrusters swept through the bay, the violent airflow making the clothes of everyone present snap and flutter.
Hathaway stood his ground, letting the wind dishevel his suit, his gaze fixed on the departing units—specifically, the Messer Commander Type.
Since this was high-altitude combat, all four Messers were equipped with F01 Type gear to ensure flight performance.
This was their most frequently used equipment, offering excellent thrust and loitering capabilities.
"Your first mission with the real Mafty and you run into such a high-difficulty environment, Damien."
Gawman adjusted his gloves, looking with interest at Char, who insisted on wearing sunglasses even under his helmet. The world called Mafty "the second coming of Char," and here was a man who looked just like him; Gawman found himself quite intrigued by Char.
"High difficulty... perhaps."
Char didn't take the "high-difficulty mission" Gawman spoke of to heart.
While the upcoming battle might have many variables due to Earth's gravity, no matter how difficult it got, it couldn't compare to the difficulty of facing off against Amuro Ray.
Especially after piloting this Messer, Char realized clearly that this machine could easily crush the GM II or the Jegan Type D he had piloted since arriving in this world—to say nothing of the old machines he flew before he came here.
As the Galcezons ascended rapidly, G-forces pressed down on everyone. Gawman couldn't help but grit his teeth, letting out a soft grunt as he resisted the pressure. Char, after feeling a slight moment of discomfort, quickly steadied himself.
Four thousand meters, five thousand, six thousand... the Galcezons continued to climb until they pierced the clouds, reaching the world above.
"Arrived at target zone. Current altitude is 11,000 meters... that's our limit."
The Galcezon pilot spoke up. "Also, at this altitude, we've been detected by Federation radar. The Kimberley Force has scrambled."
"Then, Gawman, let's go!"
Hearing they had been detected by the Federation, Char didn't panic; instead, the corners of his mouth curled upward.
Char jumped the Messer Commander Type off the Galcezon, but in the next instant, Earth's gravity captured him, attempting to pull him back toward the ground.
"Heh... I'm not ready to go down just yet."
Feeling the pull of gravity, Char deployed the Messer's stabilizer wings to slow his descent.
Immediately after, he slammed down the pedals. The Messer's thrusters roared to life, spewing intense flares of fire that forcibly halted the suit's downward momentum and began its continued ascent.
"Damien! If you use the thrusters like that, the Messer will run out of propellant!"
Seeing Char's maneuver, Gawman was startled.
Compared to Char, who was flying the mobile suit like a fighter jet, Gawman and the others operated more by "high-jumping" or even "double-jumping" their machines to preserve as much propellant as possible.
But at this moment, Char could not afford to heed Gawman's warning about the propellant. He was facing another massive problem right in front of him.
Violent gales slammed into the back of the Messer, pushing the machine forward.
"The wind..."
Watching the current state of the suit, Char frowned slightly. "First gravity, and now these gale-force winds..."
"Fighting on Earth is truly a hassle."
-----------------------------------
Beep, beep, beep, beep...
Urgent alarms exploded within the airliner's cockpit. The captain's eyes widened as he watched several targets on the radar rapidly closing in on the aircraft.
The radar identified four Mobile Suits, but none of them carried the Federation's IFF (Identification Friend or Foe) tags.
Mobile Suits without Federation IFF, a first-class cabin chartered by two high-ranking Federation officials, a gap in the guard rotation... every clue pointed toward a suffocating answer.
"Mafty? At this altitude? At a time like this?!"
The captain quickly switched the flight mode to manual control, gripping the control yoke with both hands. "Notify everyone on board: the rest of this flight is going to be extremely turbulent!"
"Also, contact the Kimberley Force relief unit immediately! We are under attack by Mafty!"
Just then, he saw a purple-painted Messer Commander Type suddenly burst through the clouds some distance from the airliner.
The purple Messer Commander Type raised its long beam rifle, aiming directly at the passenger plane soaring through the sky. However, at that moment, Char frowned.
The violent gales at ten thousand meters slammed against the Messer's arms, causing significant interference with the suit's aiming.
Spying an opening, the Messer pulled the trigger. A yellow beam erupted from the muzzle, streaking toward the distant airliner.
"Here it comes!"
The moment he saw the Messer raise its rifle, the captain slammed the control yoke down. The airliner abruptly shifted its flight angle, dropping sharply in altitude.
The Messer's beam grazed the top of the airliner, instantly tearing a hole in the pristine white roof. A mass of small debris was sucked out by the atmospheric pressure.
Fortunately, the passengers had their seatbelts fastened and weren't sucked out, but a sense of despair began to spread through the cabin.
"How can this be?! How did they know about our defensive vacuum?!"
Looking out the window at the demonic, purple Messer, the Commander of the Australian Man Hunter units screamed in terror.
"It's over... we're finished. We're dead..."
Faced with this desperate situation, the Tax Collector suffered a total breakdown, slumping into his seat and muttering incoherently.
Meanwhile, Char was frowning at the long beam rifle in the Messer's hands.
"A slight deviation caused by the gale winds, then."
Char briefly analyzed the reason for the failed snipe. "Furthermore, the pilot of that airliner actually predicted the move and dropped altitude to evade a lethal shot..."
"Damien! We only have time for two more shots! The relief unit has sighted the airliner!"
Over the comms, the Galcezon pilot shouted anxiously.
"It's more than enough."
Looking at the tagged airliner and the four Jegans just arriving along its flight path, Char smiled.
"I will not miss."
The thrusters erupted once more with thick pillars of flame, pushing the Messer along the path of the gale toward the airliner's flight line.
The Messer raised its beam rifle once more, bringing the machine as close to the airliner as possible.
At that moment, likely having spotted the Jegans of the relief force, everyone aboard the airliner felt they had survived a brush with death and began to cheer and shout.
"It's the relief unit! We're saved!"
The Tax Collector, who had just been breaking down, suddenly recovered upon seeing the Kimberley Force Jegans approaching.
He pressed himself against the cabin window, watching the incoming suits. "Once the relief unit arrives, those Mafty—"
Before he could finish his sentence, a yellow beam streaked from the muzzle of the Messer's beam rifle, accurately striking the first-class cabin of the ill-fated airliner.
A violent explosion completely tore the aircraft apart, snapping it in two at ten thousand meters. A massive number of passengers and luggage were either incinerated by the flames or hurled into the sky as the fuselage disintegrated and plummeted.
Many passengers were reduced to "raindrops" falling through the sky. After enduring the freezing cold and oxygen deprivation, they would slam directly into the surface of the Pacific Ocean; their chances of survival were non-existent.
"I adjusted the lead and parameters—I didn't expect it to be quite that precise..."
Watching the airliner blossom into a firework right in front of the four Kimberley Force Jegans, Char smiled.
However, he understood perfectly well: next came the moment to clash with the Kimberley Force.
..................