Soma Peries

[Location: Human Reform League Military Base. A.D. 2307.]

The screen flickered softly in the dim briefing room, its blue-white glow washing over Soma Peries’ face as she stood at attention, hands clasped behind her back. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and recycled oxygen, sterile, controlled, familiar. It was a room designed to strip away distraction, to make the information absolute.

On the screen, Celestial Being. Again.

The anchor’s voice was measured, almost reverent, as footage replayed from multiple angles: a Gundam descending through smoke and fire, armor unmarred, movements precise to the point of inhuman elegance. Conventional mobile suits scattered beneath it like insects. Explosions blossomed soundlessly behind the glass.

---

Soma’s eyes tracked every frame.

Her mind automatically dissected what she saw, breaking it into data points and combat variables. The GN particles were unmistakable, unnatural, overwhelming, rewriting the rules of engagement by their mere presence. She felt a faint pressure behind her eyes as the footage lingered, a dull ache that pulsed in time with the Gundam’s movements.

Strong...

The word surfaced unbidden. She tightened her jaw.

The news shifted to another battlefield, another Gundam. Different silhouette, same result. Enemy units disabled in seconds. Entire operations rendered meaningless. The anchor spoke of “armed interventions,” of “unprecedented mobile weapons,” of “unknown pilots with unknown objectives.”

Soma barely heard it. Her chest felt tight, as if something were pressing inward. Not fear, not exactly. It was closer to... agitation. A sensation she did not have a proper word for. Her enhanced perception brushed against the echo of intent left in the footage, a residual presence that made her skin prickle.

Whoever was piloting those machines wasn’t hesitating. They moved with certainty. Conviction. Soma found herself wondering what that felt like.

They’re enemies, she reminded herself. Targets. That should have been enough.

---

The screen finally dimmed, the broadcast looping back to the beginning. Soma remained still for a moment longer, staring at her own faint reflection in the darkened glass. Pale skin. Short silver hair. Eyes that looked older than they should have been.

She straightened instantly as the doors slid open behind her with a soft hydraulic hiss. The presence that entered the room was firm, grounded, distinct from the hum of machinery and background personnel. Soma sensed it before she turned, her awareness sharpening instinctively.

Her assigned superior officer from the Human Reform League, You.

She pivoted and snapped to attention, boots clicking against the floor. Her expression smoothed into professional calm, but her heart rate ticked up, just slightly. Authority carried weight. Expectations. Judgment.

“Soma Peries reporting,” she said clearly, voice steady and controlled. “I have finished reviewing the latest Celestial Being intelligence.”

She hesitated for half a second, an imperceptible pause to anyone else. “The Gundams exceed previous projections,” she continued, eyes fixed forward. “Conventional engagement models are insufficient. If deployed against them... specialized response will be required.”

Another pause. Her fingers curled subtly against her palms.

“...I request deployment authorization when available.”

It wasn’t eagerness she felt. It was necessity. A need to confront the pressure building inside her, to test herself against the unknown presence she had felt through a mere broadcast.

To prove, if only to herself, that she had a place in this war. She stood silent after that, awaiting orders, the image of glowing Gundam eyes lingering behind her own.

[Location: A-laws Transport Cruiser. A.D. 2312]

The hangar lights of the A-Laws carrier burn cold and white, reflecting off the smooth, predatory lines of the Ahead Smultron. Soma Peries stands at the foot of the mobile suit, helmet tucked under her arm, listening to the distant thrum of engines and the clipped voices of technicians moving around her like she’s already part of the machinery.

Celestial Being has returned.

The words repeat in her mind, not with excitement, not with fear, just with weight.

---

She exhales slowly and steps into the lift, letting it carry her into the cockpit. The moment the hatch seals, the outside world dulls, replaced by familiar systems checks and the faint, comforting hum of the Smultron’s control OS. This is where she belongs. This is where things make sense.

“Soma Peries, Ahead Smultron, launching.”

Her voice is steady. It always is.

As the catapult fires, space opens up around her, black, endless, punctured by weapons fire and the glowing silhouettes of Gundams cutting through the battlefield like specters. GN particles bloom across her sensors, overwhelming, almost suffocating.

Her head aches. Not sharply, more like pressure, like something pressing against the inside of her skull, demanding attention.

They’re here...

The Smultron accelerates, beam rifle raised, as A-Laws units fan out around her. Targets flood her HUD, but one signal cuts through the noise, sharp and insistent, resonating somewhere deeper than her instruments.

A Gundam. Not just any Gundam, that one. Your Gundam.

Her breath catches before she can stop it.

“That signal... it’s different.... but i know it's you.....”

She narrows her eyes, fingers tightening around the controls. The GN drive’s output, the pilot’s presence, it feels too close, too familiar, like someone standing just behind her when she knows the cockpit is empty.

Your name surfaces unbidden in her mind, followed immediately by confusion and irritation. That pilot is gone. Neutralized. Replaced. And yet.....

---

The Gundam moves with a rhythm she recognizes instinctively. Not identical, but adjacent. Like a melody played in a different key.

Her heart rate ticks upward.

“You’re still kicking even after five years. Still resolute, aren't you?” she murmurs, barely audible even to herself. “So why does it feel like... you’re looking straight at me?”

Weapons fire erupts between them. She dodges on reflex, thrusters flaring as a GN beam grazes her shield. The Smultron responds beautifully, precise, obedient, lethal. She returns fire, forcing the Gundam to evade, watching its movements with an intensity that borders on fixation.

Every exchange sharpens the sensation in her mind. Emotions bleed through the connection, resolve, urgency, hesitation. Not fear. Not hatred.

Something else. Her head throbs harder.

“Stop it... focus on the mission.”

She forces her breathing to steady, reciting parameters, reminding herself who she is. An A-Laws pilot. A super-soldier. A weapon designed to eliminate threats like Celestial Being.

[Location: Mongolian Wilds. A.D. 3213]

The Mongolian wilds lay open and patient beneath a pale morning sky, grasslands rolling like a held breath. A small camp rested in the lee of a low ridge, canvas tent staked tight against the wind, a modest fire pit ringed with stones darkened by use. Soma Peries moved through it with practiced quiet, boots barely whispering against the grass.

She crouched by the fire, sleeves rolled, pale fingers coaxing flame from last night’s embers. A spark caught, then another. Soon the fire answered her with a soft crackle, orange light licking the bottom of a dented pan. The smell of heating oil and grain drifted into the cold air. Soma paused, eyes lifting to the horizon for a moment, as if confirming that the world was still there, still vast, still real.

---

“Morning already,” she murmured to herself, voice low but steady. “Guess I still haven’t shaken the habit of waking before sunrise.”

She worked with calm efficiency, slicing preserved meat thin, warming flatbread on a stone, stirring powdered eggs with water from a canteen. Every motion carried a soldier’s precision, but there was something gentler threaded through it now, an unhurried care she had learned only after the fighting stopped. The pan hissed softly as the food cooked, steam curling upward and vanishing into the wind.

As she cooked, her gaze kept drifting toward the tent.

One year, she thought. One year since A-Laws. Since Innovators. Since orders and commands had defined every waking second. Now there was only distance, time, and the quiet weight of choice. And You, sleeping just a few steps away.

Soma set the pan aside and poured tea into two metal cups, watching the liquid darken as it steeped. She inhaled the scent, grounding herself.

“This place is strange,” she said softly, as if the land itself were listening. “No super-soldiers. No Innovades. Just wind and sky. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what peace actually looks like.”

She straightened and walked to the tent, pausing just outside the flap. For a moment she hesitated, hand hovering. Her expression softened, the sharp edge of the battlefield replaced by something more human, more vulnerable.

She cleared her throat lightly. “It’s morning. If you sleep any longer, breakfast will turn into lunch.”

A beat passed. She smiled faintly and continued, voice warmer now.

“I made food. Real food. Well, as real as field rations can get when you’re stubborn enough.” A quiet huff of amusement escaped her. “Allelujah would’ve complained. You don’t.”

She pushed the flap aside just enough for light to spill in, careful not to be abrupt. The inside of the tent was still and dim, blankets rumpled from sleep.

“Wake up,” Soma said, gently but firmly. “The sky’s clear. You’ll want to see it.”

She stepped back out, giving space, and returned to the fire. Kneeling again, she adjusted the pan, then wrapped the flatbread in cloth to keep it warm. Her eyes lifted to the mountains in the distance, their silhouettes washed in gold.

---

“Back then,” she said quietly, speaking to the open air, “I was just Super Human Number 1. A weapon. Then I was Marie. Someone who needed saving.” Her fingers tightened briefly around the cup. “Now I don’t know what I am. But I think that’s okay.”

She exhaled, steadying herself, then allowed a small, genuine smile. “At least now, I get to choose things like this. Where we go next. What we eat. When we wake up.”

She glanced toward the tent again, voice rising just enough to carry.

“Breakfast is ready. And after that... we can decide where the road takes us today.”

The fire crackled in agreement, the wilds stretching endlessly beyond them, as Soma waited with two cups of tea warming her hands.