001. An Introduction to the fusion family

February 2990, Diboll, Federated Suns, Edgeward Combat Theatre, Draconis March

+Break+

Madeleine Theberge sat across from her son and raised her eyebrow.

In between them was a table, the same table that they had used for all the decades of their lives to each lunch upon. Made of solid teak, itself a capture from the Draconis Combine.

Indeed, Teak could only grow on a single planet in the entirety of the Combine, that of the world of Jubuka in the Rasalhague Military District. Her father had captured this from a shipment that was meant to be leaving off-world as a mercenary under the Lyran Commonwealth.

Intricately carved, hand polished and sanded if the original manifest (still stuck to the bottom of the table) was telling the truth.

Her son, Huu Theberge looked uncomfortable.

Which he should.

"Your friends. Do you know what they are?" She asked simply once he had poured himself a cup of tea.

"Um. A group of like-minded-" He was cut off as she shook her head.

"No. They are a cult, your friends are a cult, built around this… this…-"

"Contolism?" He answered, looking at her with a questioning gaze, as if he didn't understand this was a serious topic, regardless of how foolish the word sounded.

"Yes, Contolism. This idea of yours that for a better future, everyone should move to space. You are aware that these people around you take this idea extremely seriously?" She asked, having seen how he had come back from his conscription to serve in the militia on their world of Diboll. Had seen how the dream he had as a child had turned into an actual, fully fledged ideology with its own god and belief system. One that had caught multiple members of the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns (AFFS) in its clutches, a serious worry if the Department of Military Intelligence (DMI) were to take a serious look into the matter. From his childhood antics of catching her leg as she walked around the house, asking in his sweet voice 'have you heard of our lord and saviour Zeon?', to his heated discussions with his 'company' of fellow militia volunteers.

Sitting there in her living room over the past few days, Huu preaching to his fellow cadets. About the need to move into space, to live on orbital colonies, free of the confines of gravity. A gravity that did nothing but weigh down the souls of mankind and drive them to war.

It was insane, demanded infrastructure that had never been present in the Federated Suns, and was, at its core, an ideology that did not take into account the physical realities of the universe in which they lived.

But, and this was the big but here, they believed.

He believed.

And after merely a few months as a cadet, he had managed to convert a sizeable crowd… and was now bringing these people to her home. To make their dreams of space-living a reality.

In other words, he had formed a cult.

"Of course we do. Contolism, the words of our Lord and Saviour, Zeon Zum Deikun, are serious words. To reach into the stars and make them our homes, to cease this conflict over our worlds, to live free of Gravity, the murderous hatred that drives us to war! This is not a cult, a cult is a group that exploits its members for selfish needs. Contolism is about reaching the stars, to evolve ourselves as a species! We do this for the betterment of all!" His eyes were blazing, his hand clenched into a fist and raised up high.

She sighed.

"And how exactly are you planning to achieve this goal, Huu?" If it were a cult, he was probably planning on fleecing the idiots around him of their money, moving to a compound in the middle of nowhere, and she would find out, in a few months, that everyone had killed themselves. Especially with the wave of nihilism that was spreading from the Free Worlds League. The Way of Arme, that proselytised death as being the natural way of reaching nirvana. It's leader, having seized control of a broadcasting station for the planet Marcus, preached to hundreds of millions, before killing himself as proof of his belief. It had spread despite official condemnation, and was making its way into other Successor States.

She was expecting the exact same thing to happen with her son.

After all, how exactly did one build an orbital colony with the technology that they currently had?

Madeleine knew it was impossible. The sketched-designs he had in his room of his 'Mobile Suits' were impossible. Where were the myomers? What was a Minovsky hydraulic control? What was this beam saber? All these small factors that you would have in a fictional universe. Not this... cult.

Or, rather, was it essentially Scientology again? They had been purged from the Federated Suns once they attempted to blackmail the Ministry of Ways and Means to make them tax-exempt as a religion. When that had failed and they had been sanctioned, the Scientologists had tried to infiltrate the structure to physically erase their records. Instead, they had been met with fire and death for being so brazen that they had attacked the Ministry building on New Avalon. The entire cult wiped out... but surprisingly, it was thriving in the Combine.

Was her son doing the same with his ideas? Writing a fictional story and convincing people that it was a rational belief system to follow?

The thoughts ran themselves in circles.

The situation had gotten serious enough that it wasn't some kind of fictional story enjoyed by a small circle of friends anymore, and she could not treat it as such.

"Don't worry mom. We're planning on solving the money issue with our next project! We're building an Ultracompact Fusion Reactor!"

…

Madeleine reached out to touch the back of her hand to his forehead.

"I don't have a fever, mom! We're actually working on it now! We have the plans ready and everything for it! Trust me." His eyes were filled with conviction. Conviction, she would later ruminate, was great… yet terrible. His desire to reach the stars above all else was near all-consuming. Part of his childhood for almost as long as he could talk.

There had been a period where she had worried incessantly. Panicked over how he had become... depressed for years. Three of them, in fact, unable to find joy, looking permanently sad. Every now and again, tears would drip from his eyes. She had been beside herself in those early years until he had changed, seemingly overnight. Waking up on their dropship in-transit through the Draconis March, he had pronounced to her, in the most serious voice an eight year old could, that he would save the galaxy.

Eleven years later, at 19 years of age, and his determination had never faltered... even if it resulted in his creation of a cult. Pursuing his stated goal with such conviction, that she couldn't help but think it was possible. Only for the realist in her to smack her upside the head and remind her, that if it were so easy, everyone would have done it by now.

"Plans? Can I see these plans?" She finally said after thinking about it.

He grinned widely at her, "follow me mom, I'll show you all that we've been working on!"

+Break+

Huu showed his mother his plans.

The first of which was the Ultracompact Fusion Reactor. Years of research had gone into this. Years during which he had spent all of his time studying, writing, researching, all of it to generate 'research points' for the Academic System. Research points he used to redeem for small parts of the overall theory of Minovsky particles.

Each time he completed a research paper, he had earned Research Points. Humanities, Scientific, Mathematics, all of it added up over time as his knowledge of Minovsky Particles increased.

Each step building on the one before it, until the point where he was now, someone who was, in other words, ready to take the first major step forward. The one that would be able to make all of this a reality. The Ultracompact Fusion Reactor, from a different universe entirely, and yet, according to the Academic System, a prerequisite on the journey.

The first step of his dream, an aimless teenager in his first life, he had been reborn into Side 3. A collection of colonies that had declared its independence from Earth. Weaned on a diet of Contolism as a child, the impressionable teenager had developed into a firm believer. One that had been swept up into the storm that was the Principality of Zeon and the One-Year War.

As a child of the colonies, of course, he had signed up when word had gone out they needed recruits. Training, then deploying, never one to be considered more than competent, he could never reach the custom status of the Aces. And yet, he had participated in the operations... in the opening battles of the One-Week War as it was called, Operation British...

That had been when the whisper in the back of his head and made itself known.

'This is not Contolism, this is not the path Zeon wanted. This is a betrayal.'

As the enormous O'Neill Cylinder accelerated its drives to breach orbit above Jaburo... only to split and land on Sydney, Australia. Huu could only watch on in horror. He had done this. Even though he hadn't gassed the people in the colony, even though he hadn't activated its drive systems... he had not stopped it either. He had been part of this, he had done this. With the Colony missing Jaburo entirely, the entire point of the colony drop... Operation British... the billions of dead from the direct impact, the tsunamis, and then the artificial winter from the debris that wiped out most of Australia's population... pointless.

The whisper was suppressed, they were winning, Operation British was a failure, but they wiped out Earth's fleet later! Just a few more sacrifices, and they would have the future that had been promised, he told himself. The whisper in the back of his head whispering uneasy truths the entire time.

Yet, the voice became louder as the conflict escalated. A third of all mankind was dead by the time of the Antarctic Treaty.

The whisper was now a murmur. He knew where this was going, knew the real life parallels. Had known, in the back of his mind, since the very beginning. If they could not secure a victory within a few weeks, then what chance did they have? Such a small population against the vast industrial base of Earth?

No matter how much they pushed, without a singularly decisive battle... there would be no victory. The great numbers, the greater industrial base, the sheer quantity of ships and Mobile Suits would crush them in a long, grinding war.

Victory would, as ever, slip further and further out of their grasp.

But the dream could not die, if there was ever a single glimmer of hope, he had to fight for a mankind of the future. Of a people who were so connected through thought and words, they could never ever wage war ever again.

And so he fought. And fought. And fought.

The invasion of Earth, Operation Odessa, Solomon, A Baoa Qu... and it was at that last one that he died.

For a dream that had been dead from the moment the war started, for an image of the future that would never appear. He had been wilfully ignorant, unwilling to admit the truth, to tell those close to him 'no'. He had been weak, of mind and will, innocents had paid the price.

Having been complicit in the worst crimes that had ever been committed. Billions dead through his actions, through his inaction.

No, the dream was dead. He had too much blood on his hands to ever find forgiveness. The guilt would eat him alive. Better to die in battle, protecting the beautiful corpse of Contolism.

His first life had not prepared him for this, his second life was simply a journey of disappointment, understanding he had failed, constantly failing.

Honestly, that death, facing the Federation Mobile Suits, the RGM-79 as it pressed a beam saber into his Gelgoog's cockpit was more of a relief than anything else.

Which, was, of course, when he had been reborn for the third time.

As an infant.

To a parent in a universe he knew nothing of. To a single mother who had taken him across the galaxy on her trips. One who showed him great affection, true… but also showed a universe wracked by war. These Earthnoids, had, in spreading out to yet more planets, spread mankind's hate throughout the stars.

He had been to Kentares, had been to worlds wracked with devastation far beyond what Operation British had even tried. The sheer amount of death, destruction... annihilation.

"I am in hell." The 5 year old him had told his mother. She, no doubt, thought it was some kind of joke.

It hadn't been.

He had been entirely serious.

The next 3 years had been filled with the knowledge that he was being punished. For betraying the ideals of Contolism, he had been punished with mere existence in this hellscape of a reality. Knowing this was a realm of death and destruction, even as mankind spread out into the stars, they brought with them unending war. The dream had died, Zeon's vision unfulfilled.

It was his mother that had broken him out of his melancholy, nigh depression. Outlining how she was working to improve the lives of the people around her. Trying to make the world a better place. Her job of connecting people with telecommunications, of trying to ease the lives of those around her. In her small way, she was improving the world around her.

He had taken inspiration from this, had taken this to heart, truly looked at the people around him and decided, then and there. This may be hell. But this was his hell, and he would make it better or die trying.

For all in this hellscape were weighed down by the gravity of their hearts and Huu vowed, at the age of 8, he would bring about Zeon's dream in this new world. He would bring about a peace brought through communication and empathy for all who lived in space.

To atone for his crimes, that weighed on him even now, he would atone.

For every person, he had killed by being part of Operation British, he would save 10.

To fulfil the dream of Contolism, Zeon Zum Deikun's vision would be made into reality.

By living in space, by being born in space, being surrounded by the universe. Mankind would evolve into newtypes, would become a race of unparalleled sensitivity and understanding.

This new humanity would be a people of the stars, without war, without conflict.

He would atone for his crimes by bringing mankind into space, to bring about the dream he had betrayed in his second life.

And this was the first, true step in atoning for those crimes, gathering like minded people (cult? ha, they weren't a cult!) to build the Ultracompact Fusion Reactor, the first fusion reactor that had been earned through thousands of academic posts. Anything of academic value counted for Research Points, but they did change depending on what it was. Explaining why the Atlas was an objectively terrible Mobile Suit in an online forum, was inherently worth less than a research paper exploring a new type of fusion reactor that did not use the Kearny-Fuchida principles.

In the same manner, a research paper was worth less than a practical, worked example.

With this, he would have enough points to learn the side-research tree of the basic Mobile Suit from Gundam Wing. The open-faced industrial suits used to build the colonies. To provide enough funds to continue his research, to earn enough points to acquire the blueprints of a Minovsky Reactor.

Every single step being one that was to drive him forward, to that goal, that singular goal at the end of which he would find atonement for his crimes.

"This is the Ultracompact Fusion Reactor! It's something that doesn't use standard Fusion Reactor dynamics. The power draw is configurable as well! I've got the research papers for it in the public domain since nobody wants to publish it. But! But when this works. They will see, they will all see!" His voice was filled with jubilation as he led her into his study. Where he wrote his papers, argued online, spoke of the Contolism in video broadcasts to those that were receptive to his message.

There were many of them on Diboll alone. Which made sense, everyone who was halfway intelligent could see the truth of Contolism. Of how being bound by a planet's gravity had led to the destruction of so much of the human race. Honestly, he was gratified that the message had reached such willing ears here, compared to the naysayers in the Federation and the other Sides.

"Huu, I'm going to be honest and say I do not know if this will work or not. However, have you checked with fusion engineers about the viability of this design?" His mother doubted him.

Which, really, wasn't a surprise. It wasn't as if this were something explored prior by others in this reality. Why build new fusion reactor design when old do trick? But, if she thought this Hydrogen fusion reactor was a shock, the Minovsky Reactors which used an isotope of Helium... well, that would be an even bigger shock, he could guarantee that!

"Of course not. Who would even be qualified to comment on this design? It's been designed from first principles!" Huu felt indignant. This was produced through years of effort. Arguing with low effort trolls, convincing them that Battlemechs were worthless compared to Mobile Suits, always getting banned from forums. Trying to grind out his research points.

Trying to get published in a university journal, only for them to reject him for being 'unable to provide a foundation for his arguments'.

Trying to get published in sociology journals, only for them to reject Contolism as a cult.

Even the shit journals that you could pay to publish any articles rejected his work as being too unbelievable.

In doing so, his path to efficiently grinding out RP was blocked. The more eyes on his work, the more RP he got.

His friends therefor, as he cultivated them over time, were the best way for him to grind. Gathering more of them by talking of Contolism, of the prophet Zeon.

And now, their faith in him would be rewarded, his trust in them validated.

"Are any of your... actually, please, wait for a few weeks. I can get into contact with an old friend, they will be able to supervise in case anything goes wrong." She finally said, looking interested in the work he had done, as she should.

"Okay mom, I trust you. Bring your friend, and I'll show them a new world, a new technology. New frontiers!"

From the materials needed for the reactor, to the materials inside, he had prepared everything. That none of it was accepted for publication because he didn't have a degree? Hah! He would show them all!

As his mother turned away to type at her computer, he grinned. Soon, soon he would be able to leave Diboll, and take his place. To return to the one place that gravity had not corrupted...

Space!

+Break+

Madeleine Theberge sat at her desk, fingers typing away at her computer.

*Report, Cult Leader. Threat level yellow. Identify… Huu Theberge. Son of Madeleine Theberge. Father, unknown. Cult purpose, to build a space colony and move into the structure. Cult, has proceeded over the period of a week to collect materials to begin construction of a first-principles Fusion Engine.

Agent Iceburg requesting presence of fusion technician rated engineer for potential Kearny-Fuchida event. Cult leader attempting to construct fusion reactor on new-principles. Possibility of success... moderate.

Request; urgent.

Report signed by Iceberg, MI3*

Now she was going to send it out by dropbox from Diboll HPG. Hopefully, whoever they sent would be able to figure out if the design would explode... and convince her son's cult members to back away if they refused and forged ahead anyway. Maybe she should get MIIO in on this and get them all arrested. A few days in a holding cell should calm them down a bit.

Yet, there was a voice at the back of her head telling her, 'this looks like it could work. He's thought of everything. The notations, the scale, all of it'.

His research, his work... it had convinced her. Even if she wasn't wholly convinced, it was much better than nothing. None of it was reputably published, but what kind of mother would she be if she didn't at least see this through? And if it were a giant mess, she would have an expert on hand (and armed guards) to prevent things going out of control.

Seriously, this Contolism business, how did he even find out about it?

If she ever found out whoever this Zeon was that convinced her son to become... some kind of Cult Leader, especially an 8 year old boy, she was going to make their ends... very painful.

It had been eleven years, but she held hope she could find the bastard.

Still, what kind of name was Zeon Zum Deikun anyway?