"So, er, what do we do now?" Garrod Ran asked Jamil Neate. His GX was taken away in a bad shape by that little kid and Witz Sou's Airmaster Burst, by Olba Frost. Now lacking any mobile suits in the Freeden IV, it was practically defenseless. In a fit of anger, Witz hijacked their jeep and went off, no doubt going to complain to Roybea Loy.

Jamil just sat there, quietly, many things running around in his head. Tiffa Adill, having sensed his thoughts, place a hand on his shoulder and shook her head," It's useless to chase them now." Having received the advice, Jamil then braced up and ordered launch to a new destination, the Freeden III.

That's where Kid Salsamille was, the genius who was the former chief engineer of Freeden. After the incident five years ago, he ran a scrap yard named Freeden III in a small town. Remembering his expertise, Jamil Neate was the one who recommended him for the Earth Federation's mobile suit design and prototype construction work. Considering the kid's passion for his work, it was suspicious that he only came up with three new MSs during the time. Having considered visiting him on several occasions, but postponed because of work demands, Jamil finally decided that this was the best time to go. That kid might have something up his sleeves.

* * *

"A hundred thousand of these!?" the disbelieving voice came over the phone. It was not surprising, really, that the technician thought he had gone nuts, Commander Trent Wolfe mused. No mobile suit production of this scale had been attempted since five years ago, but the situation in Asia was demanding that he send more troops to reinforce his power.

Mobile suits were one thing, pilots were another. It takes a damned long time to train a single pilot and time was what he did not have. Resorting to hiring mercenaries and picking young men off the wastelands by offering money, the problem was only partially solved. It did not do any good to put an idiot in a million-dollar suit just to have the guy push the red button, Trent sighed, looking over the brown folder laid in front of him. Idly, he turned a few pages, reading the words so familiar to him now, after all the nights of excitement in the past when he had conceived of this idea but the top officials had dismissed them then. It was the second generation of the Old Federation Bit system.

Project MD might just have its run here.

* * *

Still in a daze, Crash Tricre ran his fingers through the curves of the dashboards and keypads in front of him, in this strangly unfamiliar cockpit. Sure, he had been inside a lot of mobile suits, considering that his father dealt with them and all (and regularly threw him in them), and even in a gundam, too. But none of them resembled anything remotely like this. The seat he was on right now reminded him more of an inclined dentist's chair than the old upright chairs he was so used to. Further more, the trackball incorporated onto the left joystick rotated the chair (or just the view, it was very disorienting and confusing in here) around in the 360 degrees panoramic view. In fact, he recalled, it seems like the monitor system he read about in the Gundam Dendrobium used in the late UC century.

"I'll give this to you, and your past, too. All I ask for return is that you do me one thing."

The decision was hard to make, and he had taken some time to consider. Why didn't they kill me? Maybe they don't want to? No, he reasoned firmly to himelf, it's because they have a use for me. Somehow that fit, like he had known that the whole of his life. That Crash was just some small pawn. That was the reason he was unable to affect events of significance. That was the reason people always seemed to know more than he did. Well, that's all going to change now. Crash stepped on the pedal and shot out from the underground hangar, into the glow of the moon.

Because I now have my own gundam...

At twice the speed of the now-abandoned gundam X, it sped across the desert, spewing out fine yellow sand at its force. The moonlight glinted off the white armour, bringing its blue portions into bright radiance. But what was really unearthy, was the long stream of pale blueness that trailed behind it and seemed to stretch forever, and the long, sleek pair of wings that hung on its back, emitting a faint golden glow.

...Gundam TX

* * *

"No, no, no!" Kid Salsamille practically screamed at them, flinging his cap around to ward of Garrod, who was messing around with some circuit boards on the table," I don't have anything for you vultures!" He was clearly agitated at this bunch of people who popped into his yard without prior notice and began their destruction of his precious equipment. His henchmen, the two bumbling tecnicians, were nowhere to be seen.

"Aww, come on, Kid," Garrod tried to reason, examining a piece of tube that looked more like a toilet pipe than part of some mobile suit essentials," We are friends! And friends help each other in need. And we're not vultures anymore, either."

Snatching the pipe away, Kid scowled at him. These idiots still have the cheek to come back, after losing two gundams, all specially upgraded by him!

Stepping in, Jamil Neate took off his sunglasses (still never fail to attract attention, that move) and looked at Kid in the eye," Look, we know you have something here. All those funds diverted from the Earth Federation reserves into this junkyard are enough to produce more than a few gundams over these five years, and I do not believe you stuck to only designing normal mobile suits."

"It's no use arguing with someone like that!" Toniya Malme fumed, her platinum-gold hair bazing glowing under the moonlight. She stepped on Kid with a high-heel shoe and ran towards the hangar while he dropped onto the floor in pain. When he realised what she was doing, Kid Salsamille quickly got up and tried pursuing her. However, Sala Tyrrell, Jamil's second-in-command, moved in to intercept him, giving him one of those irritating lectures he thought he had escaped from, five years ago.

"No, stop! Don't do it!" Kid screamed.

There was suddenly silence in the hangar and Toniya came out in a daze. She only pointed inside with eyes wide open, and everyone except Kid rushed in to take a look at what was inside. Kid place a hand on his eyes and turned away, supposedly in frustration. But nobody saw that smile appearing on his lips. They were all staring into the vast hangar.

"God..." Jamil muttered, while Garrod whistled in awe.

There were three gundams.