Disclaimer: I do not own Muv-Luv franchise in absolutely any way.

"What have we become? I will not say who; that would be giving ourselves far too much credit, credit we do not deserve. This nation was founded on a principle: the principle of freedom. It was a dream of freedom for everyone – the right to feel happy, safe, to be free to pursue a different life from what ancient kings would force on others. And it was for this principle that our forefathers spilled their blood, hoping that it would light the fire of a new and beautiful nation!

But now, we have corrupted this nation in the name of our selfish interest and ignorance. We have abandoned the world – the world to which, as the most powerful nation of all, we have a duty to protect, when it itself cannot.

We have allowed millions to die, all to satisfy an interests of a narrow clique!

Never before has there been a time where I was as disgusted from being born American as I am today, and it is my earnest wish that all sitting within this hall today will be remembered as the greatest traitors to the human race forevermore."

Senator Donnell H. Piecemann, D-Illinois, 1998, speaking in the aftermath of the official announcement by the Congress to unilaterally withdraw the United States Asian Military Mission from the protection of Japan.

"General Bragg made his assumption – that BETA can be defeated conventionally within a decade of introduction of 2nd Generation TSFs - based on statistical assumptions regarding overall 2nd Generation TSF performance and the belief that the European Union, Soviet Union, Middle East and Asian fronts could sufficiently withstand the onslaught of the BETA independently. With respect, however, the 2nd Generation TSFs are hardly the war-winners the General envisioned. Furthermore, the assumption that remaining nations could resist the BETA, given the massive casualties they suffered in the opening phases of the invasion, was a gross miscalculation. It is clear that General's vision will not come to pass, partially because of our own policy of performing only surgical interventions that leave the bulk of fighting to otherwise overstretched and exhausted forces (…) As such, I must admit, that the current strategy espoused by the White House and the Pentagon does not reflect the actual military and political needs of this country, and as such, it should be adjusted with immediate effect, if America wishes to avoid what could potentially be the most devastating defeat in human history."

Commander Mark Shepard, United States Navy, testifying before the United States Senate Committee on Armed Services, March 1997

"Now, this is an unusual sight."

The President of United States of America, Gregory W. Ashford paced around the plush carpet of the Oval Office. The two sofas that were lined up before his desk were now packed with two very different branches of government; one dressed in official military uniforms, and another in less descript, but still high-class civilian suits.

Both delegations also happened to be led by men famous for being polar opposites: the recently nominated Secretary of Defense, David Anderson, and longtime Director of Central Intelligence, Jack Harper. Both were possibly the other two most influential men in the United States at current time, above even Speaker of the House.

And both men agreed on the proposal they had just presented.

Truly, this was the End of Days.

"So, to summarize… you want to deploy our recently established Space Force into combat… expanding our already significant contribution to the war with BETA?"

"The Space Force, will not be deployed immediately, if you are concerned about political ramifications, Sir." Anderson, as usual, was the first to speak up. "Specifically, we're opting to activate our Orbital Diver initiative. Training men will take approximately a year, and most of the trainees will be selected from already accepted cadets, therefore no new draft incentives will be required."

"Aha. So we're letting the greenhorns take the blow this time?"

"If I may be so bold, Mr. President." Jack Harper was as direct as usual. He looked more like the CEO of a Fortune 500 than the largest collection of spies, assassins, saboteurs and unethical scientists in America. That look was deceiving; there were very good reasons why Ashford's Presidency had inherited Harper from previous administrations, not the least being right more often than everyone else. So when he decided to chide the less-then-popular POTUS, few eyebrows were raised. "America currently has the second largest military in the world. Third, if we acknowledge that the European Union has practically drafted every single citizen into the military. And while our troops are well prepared, taken as a whole, we have probably the least experienced army in the world."

President sighed. His day was getting better and better, and it was still only 10:00am. "Go on, Director."

"Our military has no experience against the BETA barring several squadrons in the Navy and Marine Corps. The failure of our missions in Asia, Europe and the Middle-East during 80s and the early part of this decade is a testament to this impotence. And even though we have learned lessons from these losses, the fact remains that the war is getting more desperate each year. America will become a battlefield, a distinct possibility within our lifetimes, at which point our lack of experienced commanders and pilots will prove to be a critical oversight."

"If they could get close," one of presidential aides murmured, before being shot down with a glare.

"With all due respect to my military colleagues, and my friend here," Harper continued, "I do not believe our Navy is able to protect our coasts should the BETA arrive in force. The Royal Navy in England has already repeatedly failed to stop BETA from crossing the channel, which is the main reason why the EU continues to mount expeditions into the European mainland. And that is the situation under optimal conditions, with full U.N support and significant commitment from us… if either Europe or Asia falls, we estimate that America will be defeated within 12 months, give or take two."

"My God." President breathed, before turning to the Secretary of Defense. "And you agree with this?"

Anderson solemnly nodded. "I do Mister President. We are currently doing what we can, but our anti-BETA doctrine is grossly underdeveloped. The Marine veterans are needed to train Marine pilots, and can hardly be spared should we suddenly find the need to implement a widespread training program throughout the services."

The President sat down, turning to the window. The sun shone brightly above Washington D.C. The United States of America had remained prosperous. Free. Even with a massive immigrant issue and deep political divide, the country remained proud and powerful, but above all, free from BETA.

But all of this was owned to the sacrifice of American citizens on the Moon, the troops involved in the defense of first nations invaded, and to several million Canadians who perished in the aftermath of unilateral nuclear bombardment of Athabasca, after which Canada essentially ceased to exist as a political entity.

"So we're sitting on pillars of salt and a foundation of sand."

The military men briefly looked at each other, before Anderson spoke again. "Yes, Sir. The truth is, if we don't start to prepare our army now, we might never get the chance. Within the next few years, the situation will become more dire, and we will be forced to act directly, regardless of political intentions. And once that happens, we will need pilots with experience in the war against the BETA. Top Gun and existing training programs simply aren't enough, because too many of them are based on theory and not facts; and we all know theory is proven wrong nine times out of ten. As my esteemed CIA colleague mentioned, we already have the means to fight. Now we must prepare for the inevitable time when we have to use them."

"How soon?" The President was not visibly agitated.

Admiral Charles Harlown, Director of the Pentagon's J-5 Strategic Plans and Policy Directorate, cleared his throat before taking up the question. "Our projections estimate that both the European Union and Far Eastern Alliance will be able to resist independently for just over a decade starting today. Assuming we regularly increase our commitment to UN missions, and deploy our army to full-scale war, this time frame can be extended by another 10 years. By combining our resources, we can continue to resist for another 10 years. In total, that gives us 30 years before human race is wiped out. After the 30 year mark, the sheer level attrition will render our military unable to continue combat. Industries will collapse due to lack of workers, and space habitable to humans will be lost at astounding pace."

"Is this… the worst-case scenario?"

"No Mr. President. It's the best-case scenario."

Someone from CIA delegation spoke next, after a discreet signal from Harper. "The Orbital Diver Initiative will help us prepare, and gain time to develop measures that may overcome this situation. However, we need to begin now. Furthermore, our increased commitment can be transmuted into political advantage – we will be doing what Manifesters have been asking for years, and gain additional sympathy from international community, however small. And the opposition will not be able to reason against the fact that we're already working with people and hardware that was meant to be employed overseas anyway, if in less-active capacity." The woman ignored the indignant and furious stares of the flag officers.

The President nodded, mulling his option. "Thank you ladies and gentlemen, that will be all then. I'll make the call."

The order to deploy the Orbital Diver Corps would be signed later that day.

And thus, the cogwheels of destiny began to turn.

"Well, what about him? Perfect scores, good attitude, responds well to discipline?"

Maciej "Matt" Krawski, former officer of the Polish People's Army, and currently commissioned officer of United States Space Combat Command and first-generation American citizen, grimaced at the file he was presented before taking it and tossing it at what the occupants of the room dubbed "the miscreants, whores and thieves Pile, to whom no Vote is given."

"I've read his Officer Qualification Jacket, Michael. He has no imagination and no apparent willpower, which is why he was never given squad leader position. Good for grunts, but that's not good enough for us."

With the Presidential order, the small Orbital Diver Corps was enlarged, and so began a scramble to find qualified personnel to fill all the new positions. While a separate department figured out who was meant to crew all the new flashy space shuttles, a unique group of the few veteran pilots, commissioned expats and instructors were busy to select nugget pilots that would be given the dubious honor of becoming the guinea pigs of Pentagon's latest pet project. Luckily, they were given access to all recruits from all services. Given time, they would eventually fill all vacancies. Unfortunately, that meant sorting. Lots and lots of sorting.

Maciej absently scratched his chin, before throwing away another file and pulling out the next one, throwing it onto several coffee tables arranged into a large impromptu conference desk. "How about this one?"

Michael took the dossier and begun reading through it.

"Bridges…Yuuya?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "He has a disciplinary record as long as from here to Yukon."

"He also has the highest scores in TSF piloting out of his class, and the highest mark in technical classes. And if you didn't notice, he is still on the 'wanted-for-Top Gun' list."

"I'm not questioning his abilities, Matt. I question his ability to not beat his squad mates into pulp."

Matt sighed leaning back into his chair. "Look, so the guy has history of insubordination? Okay. Looking over the white, bourgeois officers that ran his academy and the plethora of 'real American badasses' of his teammates, whose dossiers I had the dubious pleasure of reading through, I can see where's that coming from."

"We're not here to fix the Army's attitude problem, no matter how I agree with you."

"He's Navy, actually. Look. My point is that despite all these black marks, he still wasn't thrown out, and moreover, he was put in for God-damned Top Gun. That's impressive. But above all, he hasn't resigned." He tapped the table for emphasis. "That takes balls. And this is exactly what we need for this job."

"Alright, alright. I'm sold. I was just playing Devil's Advocate anyway." Michael grinned. "You know, the Top Gun guys will have a fit when they hear we're getting hands on their fresh meat."

"All the better. Plus, I'm a compulsive narcissist; the boy reminds me too much of myself when I was younger."

The two men shared a chuckle before Michael tossed the file onto increasingly bigger "approved" pile.

One Year Later, Lower Earth Orbit, 7:38 AM, Greenwich Mean Time.

"Three-zero seconds to separation."

Second Lieutenant Yuuya Bridges, United States Space Force, gritted his teeth as several times normal G-force smashed into him as his "armored coffin" – a space to ground delivery TSF system - screamed through the stratosphere.

Even with sophisticated technology, the bipedal war machines that were the mainstay of the human race, the Tactical Surface Fighters, could not fully ignore the laws of gravity.

"Yo, Bridges." His wingmate, Max J. Grey grinned through the communication window.

"Fuck you." Any further argument was interrupted by their mission control's next transmission.

"Ten seconds to separation! Five, four, three, two, one: separation! All pilots, prepare for manual control and descent!"

The metal coffin around them parted as charges remotely blew off designated section of armor. Without them, the shell swiftly fell apart around them, and the two American F-15Es within swiftly fanned out into the sky.

"3000 meters, Bridges. Remember your training and you should be fine." In retrospect, Yuuya decided that he should have stayed with the Navy, instead of transferring his commission to the newly stood up Space Force. Yes, Navy definitely sounded better right now over the suicidal nutjobs of the Space Force. But it was no use crying over spilled milk.

Yuuya grunted as his machine rapidly plunged down into the atmosphere. Without its thrusters, a TSF had about as much mobility as a rock in the air. He prayed that the Laser-class would be satisfied with a tasty bit of heavy ead transport coffins than choosing his measly craft for grilling practice.

Bright beams of light cut next to him, Laser-class making their presence known.

So they haven't taken the bait completely.

"Shit!" His companion cursed as if reading his thoughts. "We're still taking the goddamn Laser fire. All units be ready for emergency maneuvers."

Yuuya made another grunt as he fought with controls to shift his machine more to the right. Next to him, an unfortunate Eagle was turned into superheated ball of gas as it met an all too lucky laser blast.

Reverse thrusters…1500 meters…I can probably go to 1200…then!

"Dammit Bridges, you're going to smash into the ground!" Someone else yelled as machines slowly begun to activate their engines , giving their pilots a measured control over their descent.

"Not yet…not yet…Now! I got this!"

A pair of booster roared as they set for full power. The sudden reverse force jerked Yuuya's Strike Eagle, as machines rapid descent was temporarily halted. No sooner though, the boosters swiveled into their standard, "forward" position, and the Eagle begun to rapidly descend once more, narrowly flying past several beams of bright, deadly light.

Here comes the hard part.

As the frozen, snow-covered ground raced beneath him, Yuuya braced himself, before opening air brakes on the left jump engine and cutting its power. Momentarily the machine swung 180 degrees, before he dialed the power back up, the thrusters beginning to slow the machine. In less than a minute, the Strike Eagle had slowed down sufficiently that the machine could have been safely landed on the ground.

"Not bad, Yuuya," His wingman laughed, slightly breathless from all the acceleration.

"And reckless as all hell," Their commander, a young but gifted officer named Sarah Williams growled. "You could have gotten killed and thrown off course. And then killed."

"Sorry ma'am. Next time I'll tell Lasers to miss more clearly."

"We'll go over this after the mission. For now, all units, form up!"

As his teammates begun to assemble, Max smiled over the comms.

"Think of that in this way: You survived your first live combat drop while being shot at. That's worth a little scolding, isn't it?"

(Several minutes later)

"Approaching enemy vanguard. Visual detection on Destroyer-, Grappler-, and Tank-classes. Unable to determine exact numbers. ETA to effective firing range, 5 minutes".

The six TSFs from their division managed to land safely on the ground, compared to most other platoons that lost a unit in two in the drop itself. In general, that would constitute a very good drop – if only the Laser-class would not limit their entire aeronautical capacity to several meter hovering. But it would have to do.

"Acknowledged," Williams confirmed the report from fellow platoon, before turning to her own men. "We're taking sector Charlie-3. Destroyers coming in first. Take firing positions and hit them with armor-piercing sabot rounds. If we fail to destroy them all before they come into melee range, you're clear to evade at will. Otherwise switch to chainguns and eliminate the rest. Remember to not let those little red shits grab you. And no cowboying, Bridges."

Yuuya inwardly winced as he felt his commander's gaze focus on him over the comm.. "Yes ma'am."

The next four minutes dragged forever as Yuuya steadied his craft, kneeling it to get the best stabilization for its 120mm underbarrel guns. In the meantime, he and his squadmates could for the first time take a long look at live BETA.

And God, were they ugly.

Destroyers at least looked somewhat ridiculous with that green-purple carapaces and numerous hair-like antennae, but the Grapplers and Tanks looked outright repulsive. The first looked like a grotesque mixture of human and a crab at size of a house. Its four muscled legs gave it quick movement, while carapace-like claws and exoskeleton haphazardly growing out in some places of the body formed its main weapon. The most striking feature however was its "head" – a horrible looking, ugly parody of naked brain with a mouth, but no eyes or nose.

The Tank-classes were no better, their skin (or rather a pile of muscles) colored in angry bright red, bearing six horse-like legs arranged around a grotesquely large mouth. Despite somewhat silly look, its teeth were sharp enough to easily pierce through most modern composite armors. The horror show was completed by two sturdy hands and an oval head on elongated neck, with no mouth or nose, but seemingly countless eyes, in addition to the two that were positioned right where a human's should be.

Yuuya forced himself to look away from this freakshow, checking the distance on his HUD.

Just a little more…little…c'mon you fuckers.

"Targets in range! Light 'em up!"

Almost immediately, Yuuya's targeting reticule burned bright red, and he squeezed the trigger.

Normally, a Destroyer's thick, frontal carapace made light of most modern weapons. Anything short of a rocket usually bounced off the darned thing. Even 120mm sabot shells with steel penetrators needed to be fired from the side. But then, mankind had the sense of innovation. With sufficient velocity, a depleted uranium-tipped projectile could smash through the armor. Designed originally with intent to take out tanks and bunkers, the 120mm projectile resembled more of an arrow than a bullet, with a sharpened tip, thin middle section and four X-positioned fins.

And at sufficient velocity, it had something to say about the Destroyer's concept of a "bulletproof head".

The round hit seconds after Yuuya pulled the trigger. Hitting millimeters from dead centre, the projectile cracked through armor, breaking into spinning trajectory as it massacred BETAs internal physiology before flying out through the unarmored back, smashing into the front of the BETA directly behind it. The first line of Destroyers was dead before they even realized it.

Not waiting to confirm his first hit, or even check on his squadmates, Yuuya picked another target and fired and fired again. Each shot hurled a depleted uranium arrow of death and anti-armor "Fuck You" at the vicious aliens, who didn't even bother to doge. As bodies littered the impromptu battlefield, Destroyers behind the main lines begun to ram into their dead comrades. Several of the lumbering creatures lurched up as they tried in vain to climb over their dead, their soft bellies turned into bloody fountains by opportunistic 36mm depleted uranium-tipped High Velocity Armor Piercing rounds.

It was a complete massacre, and yet the BETA continued to charge.

Yuuya grunted as he pulled his TSF into a standing position and begun to pull back along with his comrades. First slowly, then in a "jog", before finally powering his jump engines at low power and moving away at modest speed, just ahead of alien column.

He panted as he swapped another 120mm magazine into the magazine well of his Eagle's first AMWS-21 Assault Cannon system, or in layman's terms, the Assault Rifle system.

"Dammit!" Someone from an allied squadron shouted. "The Tanks and Grapplers are catching up to the Destroyers!"

Now comes the other hard part.

Almost subconsciously he deployed the second AMWS. While using two weapons was entirely possible for the arms, it was not normally encouraged by the US Army's manuals, as with only one arm to hold it, the AMWSs lost a lot on recoil control. However, in specific circumstances (such as this), having two rifles putting a less precise but higher volume of fire was more efficient then having a lower volume of precise fire from one rifle.

That, and as Space Force, Navy and the Marine Corps widely believed, most of the Army manuals were a load of bullshit anyway.

Two streams of tracer rounds chewed into the stream of BETA, followed by many more depleted uranium rounds in the wake of each tracer. The not-so-armored reinforcements promptly turned to paste. Dark red, purple, pink and even green fluids covered the snow.

But even then, they did not stop. The BETAs simply advanced, crawling over their own dead. They were like a tide, one that you could try and control, but it would always overflow your dams.

Yuuya inhaled sharply as he rapidly accelerated and climbed to stay ahead of a rapidly closing-in Destroyer, shooting it face-full of 120mm rounds for its troubles.

Fuck! Why do they keep coming! Even an animal should learn to not stick a hand where it hurts!

The increasingly high-pitched reports from his fellow pilots shared the sentiment.

"Carol, watch out!"

Yuuya rapidly turned towards one of his other teammates, Carol Simms. The young girl was one of the "high-scorers", straight from the elite American military academy at West Point, recruited directly to the Space Force on account of her sheer skills, professionalism, and attitude.

She was also one of the few people in the entire army that could honestly keep up with him, and didn't diss him just for having a Japanese dad.

"Don't worry about me," Her confident, if somewhat breathless voice called out.

"You shouldn't rush out like that." Yuuya chided her. "I don't want to get told off again when I have to solo dive and pull your ass out of the fire."

"Oh, then you should have minded the-" She smiled and…

And that was the last thing she ever did.

Her TSF exploded, scattering into million melted pieces and superheated gas.

"Six is down! Shit, no ejection!"

There was a commotion, over which their commander shouted something about "not jumping you morons!", but Yuuya kept staring at place where Carol's face was smiling just a moment ago over on the HUD.

No. No. No.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. He wouldn't let his comrades down. He wouldn't – he wouldn't allow for such a thing to happen. And he certainly wouldn't have failed as miserably as to let his friend get fried by a random Laser.

He wouldn't abandon anyone.

Yuuya roared, and more BETA died.

HMS Indomitable, off coast of Norway

The cannons thundered, and missiles screamed as the Royal Navy continued to pound the coast of Norway in the most recent series of BETA thinning operations. Fearing that the concentration of BETA in the Scandinavian Peninsula would lend themselves to a new attempted BETA invasion of British Isles, the United Kingdom lobbied within the UN for a deep-strike mission to clear through groups of BETA rummaging through the former Norway and Sweden, before returning home.

And so for past several days, the Royal Navy, Royal Armoured Corps, UN Atlantic Army divisions and several American expeditionary units hammered BETA positions north of Sweden and south of Norway near Jutland into oblivion.

An old English Captain sighed as he observed the landing through his binoculars. The sky was black from the smoke of exploding rounds and rockets that were intercepted by those Laser-class monsters. Gone were the days where warships were the bane of coasts, capable of turning citadels into smoldering ruins.

Now, it was all a waste of shells and maneuvering fuel.

But the old sailor kept telling himself that this waste kept saving lives, because as long as Laser-class BETA kept shooting his shells, they wouldn't be firing on landing soldiers.

It still didn't make him feel any more useful.

He sighed again and turned to his bridge. These days most of it was automated – advanced machines that weren't thought possible in his day. They kept monitoring the status of his ship, other ships (if needed) and mapped the battlefield on one of those nearly magical computer projectors.

"How's the battle going, child?"

His aide, a pretty young lass, barely 20 years old, crisply saluted, and the old man died a little inside. He had a granddaughter who was older than this girl…how could he, and all his seniors allowed the situation to be deteriorate so badly that they were sending children into the most horrific war ever seen?

"Very well, sir. Marines have secured the landing points, and the RAF and UN forces have begun to advance. "

"Mmmm. And the Americans?"

"American 2nd, 3rd, 5th, 7th and 8th Orbital Diver Squadrons have reached the surface. They encountered BETA and began combat operations immediately; casualties are light so far, and they managed to advance further than we originally projected in the current time frame. They have also eliminated a number of small scale Laser-class groups."

"Jolly good then, isn't it? What about the Swedes?"

"Aye, sir. Swedish flagship communicated that despite earlier storms, they should arrive as planned to continue providing fire support. We have also received word that the Admiralty has seen it prudent to dispatch two more ammunition ships."

"That'll help, but they'll hardly change the outcome. Still, better than nothing. Keep me posted."

"Aye, sir."

Prologue, Part-1 End.