Chapter Two

January 15th, 1997

The woman smiled, her raven colored hair dotted with odd flakes of snow, and her breath steamed slightly in front of her as behind her the formal ceremony wrapped to a close. "And that just about wraps it up," she reported cheerily, behind her the crowds also slowly beginning to drift away from Trafalgar Square. Nelson's Column was clearly visible behind her, and behind that the raised podium on which the declaration had been made.

"Very good Clara, but what can you tell us about this new Defensive Militant?" asked a deep masculine voice from the studio.

The woman seemed to ponder the question momentarily on live TV before answering in her trademark grin. "The Grenadiers? They were formed about three years ago from elite units in the Territorial Army, and have been preparing for this moment ever since then. Commanded by Colonel Edward Thule and Major Preston Cartwright, they are, as you know, an infantry Militant, specializing in urban and rural combat - making them ideally suited to be the Defense Militant," she said, standing to one side to let the camera focus on the stage where the Colonel and Major were still standing, deep in conversation with each other.

Colonel Edward was what most people would consider attractive. Tall, athletic, clean shaven, a friendly face that seemed to radiate trust, but still maintained a feeling of steely determination. His long blonde hair was done in a pony tail, forming a sharp contrast with the peaked dark green cap resting on his head, denoting his rank. Next to him, the shorter and more heavy set Major Cartwright seemed uncivilized, even though his family was one of the last few who could claim aristocratic ancestry, and made sure he grew up as a British gentleman should. Nature however conspired to make him broad shouldered and powerful, totally at odds with the public perception of the upper classes – who were universally seen as thin and pale, the type of people who would be knocked down by a light wind. This man however seemed able to stand defiant in the face of a hurricane. His black hair had been groomed backwards, and he stood with legs apart and arms folded, a stern expression on his face.

"Indeed, but what about their troops? Are they in any way specialized for their role?"queried the man in the studio, picking his words with care. What with Germany being forced to reveal the true nature of the Kriegshund Militant, many people were understandably concerned about having genetically altered soldiers operating within their country – what guarantees that they wouldn't turn on their hosts after all?

"From all current evidence and reports, the only advantages the Grenadier troops have over standard soldiers is a much more rigorous training program and more advanced equipment, as well as an utter dedication to their cause," responded the woman, tilting her head to the side and flashing a brilliant white smile.

"Well that's good to hear Clara, thank you. Now in regards to the Offensive Militant Plan, do we have any details?"

The black haired woman nodded. "Indeed. The process is much the same as it was for the Defensive Militant. Aspirant organizations have until the year 2000 in which to build up their strength for a demonstration of their abilities. Results and data will be collected and compared, and eventually one will be chosen to become the Militant charged with all offensive operations," she explained, her cheeks rosy red from having to stand in the cold for so long.

"Thank you Clara. Now in other news-" the man said, before being abruptly cut off as the television was switched off, leaving the conference room dim. There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke.

"Well?" said a soft feminine voice, almost motherly in tone as the lights grew brighter to illuminate the room. There were only two people present, both sitting at opposite ends of a large circular table, having watched the news report on a large screen hung off the wall.

A sigh could be heard as a man spoke. "Becoming a Militant is no mean feat, Morgana-sama, as you are no doubt aware. The sheer manpower, paperwork and investment required...it is a daunting task and rightly so. Not to mention the competition you are likely to have," he said, pushing up his glasses with thin and calloused fingers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he listed each issue. He leaned back in his chair, his opinion voiced, and watched the woman sitting opposite him from beneath a fringe of brown hair. "And it still doesn't address my question: what do you need me for?"

Morgana nodded in response to his comments, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the oak surface of the round table and cradled her chin as she looked at the man, a half smile ghosting over her face. "I am well aware of what becoming a Militant entitles Mr. Shinkawa. My family has had dealings with them since the declaration of the Act sixty years ago, and I know how they operate. I am not some ignorant entrepreneur looking for an easy profit, and you would do well to remember that," she said with a smile, delicately picking up her cup of tea and sipping it, savoring its warmth and rich flavor. She placed it back on the saucer with a near silent clink before continuing. "As for you, well, I believe your skills could be useful in my bid."

The man raised an eyebrow in interest, idly twirling a ballpoint pen in his hand. That caught his attention, as whilst he hardly tried to keep his work secret, he didn't exactly advertise it either. If this Morgana wanted his aid in her bid, he could guess at her plans for the Militant she was planning on creating over the coming years. "Oh? What would you require of me, Morgana-sama? A design for a brand new APC perhaps? That is all I could truly offer you, as nanotechnology is not my specialization."

Morgana shook her head, making her hair sway gently. "No, not at all Mr. Shinkawa. If my Militant is to stand out from the crowd, it must be instantly recognizable as different, better, a vision of the future if you will," she explained. "I believe the path to eminence for my Militant requires a focus on vehicles."

Shinkawa opened his mouth to interrupt, but the woman stifled him with a raised hand. "Vehicles that would guarantee military dominance on today's battlefields," she finished, leaning back in her chair, looking down the table at her guest.

Now it was his turn to shake his head. "Battlefields? Morgana-sama, you said you know how Militants operate. And yet you would have me design a new kind of tank? No matter what I designed, it would still suffer from the basic flaws that all combat vehicles share – a highly specialized role, limited armament, armour and speed, terrain limitations, and blind spots. And with the infantry forces the Militants use these days...you saw what Kriegshund did in Korea did you not?" He waited for his host to nod before continuing. "You would be better off perfecting infantry as the Militants have been doing for the past several decades."

"Genetics can only go so far," countered Morgana, taking another sip from her cup. "The only way for infantry to continue improving is through nanotechnology." The woman closed her eyes and nodded sagely. "And that has its own limitations." It had only been three weeks before that the UN had passed the Nanotechnology Limitations Act, which specifically forbade self-replicating nanoprobes. It was only a small step from that to a grey goo scenario. "And power armour is still in development."

"Which Militant is in charge of that?" asked Shinkawa, genuinely interested.

"One of the Mediterranean ones, Kerberos or Myrmidon," replied the woman softly, opening her eyes and looking at the engineer. She knew that once the creation of the armour was finished, the Grecians would have some of the finest front line units in service, complemented nicely by the Seraphim squads of the Italian Militant. "That is why I require vehicles Mr, Shinkawa. Against the established infantry forces anything we could create would pale in comparison. But why play by their rules? No matter how good power armour is, it cannot withstand tank rounds."

"It can dodge them though," muttered the man under his breath.

A frown flashed across Morgana's face as she sighed slightly, an elegant finger tapping the folder on the desk before her. "Mr. Shinkawa," she said softly, immediately making her guest snap his head up. "You came to my attention highly recommended, and I was under the impression that a project as...ambitious as this would pique your interest. If however I am wasting my time with you, then please state so immediately."

The man's eyes widened fractionally before he laughed nervously, remembering that his line of work was in now way secure. If this woman wanted him to design some vehicles in exchange for his fee, who was he to complain? "My apologies Morgana-sama, I was merely expressing my observations of today's military actions," he said hastily. "I of course will gladly accept the opportunity you have given me, and the brief you have specified." The woman smiled serenely before he continued. "However, if you truly want these...vehicles to be effective in these times, then they must be as adaptable, agile and responsive as infantry. You are essentially asking for a power armour that is piloted, not worn."

His host seemed to consider this for a moment before a good natured sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head. "Boys and their toys...I know what you are referring to, but I will not say it."

Yoji Shinkawa grinned despite himself. "Sorry Morgana-sama, but you just gave me a brief asking me to design vehicles that must be effective in modern combat. With that being mostly in urban areas, where infantry have always excelled..."

She cut him off before he could finish. "Then I take it you will work for me?"

"Yes, yes I will Morgana-sama," replied the man with a nod, standing up. "I take it I ought to begin immediately?"

His host's smile was all the answer he needed. He bowed politely before departing, leaving Morgana alone in the chamber. The woman looked back at the giant screen, displaying the emblem she had chosen for Avalon – a blue shield with a white chevron, on which there were three blue stars. An emblem that would be known throughout the world in three years. She was sure of that.

After a moment there was a polite cough behind her, and she stood up from the table, heading for the door herself. She felt the presence of her aide a half step behind her, silent. He wouldn't speak until she spoke first, a trait of his that infuriated her occasionally.

"Jeremiah, contact the training center in Derbyshire, tell them I want their best vehicle operators here by tomorrow to help the technicians with their work."

Her aide nodded politely without saying a word, his orange eyes never blinking as he lengthened his stride and walked past her, opening the door to the corridor just as she reached it. Morgana smiled thankfully as she passed, and the man followed, shutting the door silently behind him before heading off on his own, leaving Morgana to flow down the corridor in her simple pale blue dress alone, her eyes closed and a small contented smile on her lips as she thought a small thought about a small boy.