Chapter 3

Now usually, I believed, there was always a confrontation in the situation that one confronts a traitor in his own organization. The spy gets confronted by the hero, usually during a meeting of some kind, and denies the accusations to the leader of the organization. The leader, going off the years of loyal service served by the spy, takes their side and the hero becomes a pariah among his comrades. The hero is then accused of being the real spy by the spy and is locked up. Then at the dramatic trial the spy is finally revealed at the last minute through the background shenanigans of the hero's sidekicks, and everyone goes home happy.

While I didn't expect all of that to happen when dealing with Doctor Sexton, I was pretty sure the guy would start denying any accusations right from the start. So it was probably best to gather up the Neo Zeon command who would be indebted to me for saving their bacon and then tell them the facts.

So I floated out of my Geara Doga's cockpit, looking around for ranking officers who ought to be identified by… I honestly had no clue. Really? I mean really? How do you make it so that I can instinctively pilot a complex warmachine but not pick out bloody officers?!

.

I poked the Will, the source of said instincts to pilot the complex warmachine, through the mental walls I had isolated it in. The Will ignored me and kept on doing what it had been doing since I had shoved it into isolation: nothing. Useless pieces of a soul and flash training I'll figure it out myself.

Grumbling under my breath, I landed on the metal floor of the hangar. I moved my head side to side in search of my lab coat wearing friend.

Luckily I didn't need to do much searching, because just as I picked Sexton out(near one of the side doors), I was treated to the absolutely glorious sight of the smug prick being tackled by two guards. Now that may not sound very impressive due to being in near zero gravity, these two guards were moving at a fast fucking clip and wearing full body armor. Best part was that since this was in near zero gravity, the force of the tackle carried the new trio all the way over to the opposite sight of the hangar where Sexton hit the wall and knocked himself out. The two guards then dragged

That made my day.

The sight of the floating tackle/arrest had caused the hangar to go quiet as people took in what had just happened. The silence was quickly broken by what were probably deck chiefs yelling at their crews to get back to work.

Well now what was I supposed to do?

"Uh excuse me sir?" A hesitant, but familiar voice spoke from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see that Jess, first or last name I still hadn't figured out, had exited her Dreissen. She had removed her helmet, which allowed her maroon red hair, cut short, to flow free with a few strands hanging over her face.

"Yes?" I said genially to her. "Is there a problem?"

"My commanding officer..requests to see you personally sir." Jess finished, some nervousness in her eyes. Might be due her view of me in regards to her commanding officer.

"I'd be happy to. Where is he located?" I responded.

"She" Jess stressed that word. I inclined my head in recognition of my error. "Is in the officers lounge. It's just past the canteen, can't miss it. It's got the fancy door."

Now would certainly be an opportune time to start forming good relations with the local Neo Zeon leaders. Afterall, I did just save the entirety of their fleet, including the supremely formidable flagship of Char, the Rewloola.

Well this wasn't going to plan, I thought grimly. The woman before me now angrily waving her pistol around my general direction. This had been going on for the past five minutes and there was no way out since the doors had been locked shut since my entrance into the lounge.

"Now let us recap your crimes." The woman snarled, her angular face twisting in a rather unattractive way. "You stole a AMS-119 Geara Doga model from the military of the Newborn Neo Zeon, unauthorized. You then commandeered command of several mobile suit pilots and led them in an attack against Federation forces. This action resulted in the death of four of my pilots and the loose of critical mobile suits." Her other hand, the one not waving a pistol wildly around, began rhythmically clenching and unclenching. "You, you fucking experiment of Sexton's, should not be abe to do any of that. That damn doctor promised us-"

Time to make a risky move. "That's enough, if you don't mind commander." I said with a hand extended in a 'stop' position. "I'm sure that you have your own grievances against me, for whatever reason, but we must begin evacuating this facility at once."

Her eyes twitched. "Oh. Oh really. Explain why we should retreat from such a defensible position especially when we have already shed blood for it."

This woman. "Because as you must have heard, the Federation has already been made aware of our location by the good doctor. That is why you arrested him, correct?" I stressed that last part.

The commander opened her mouth to retort but was cut off by another voice coming from the doorway.

"That is quite enough Commander Yoshida." A man dressed in the full regalia of a Zeon naval officer strode into the room. He was wearing his white-ish grey hair slicked back, and doffed his hat as he entered. Now this made me happy, finally a familiar face! The future captain of the Rewloola looked entirely business right now with his dull eyes staring down Commander Yoshida. Dawson had the signature look of someone who was running off too little sleep but based on my assumptions of the man, he was an old hat at military life.

"But sir-" Yoshida attempted to protest but Dawson cut her off with a downward hand swipe. The commander quieted down, although she had a mutinous look about her. Dawson turned on his heels so that he was facing me and then, to my and Yoshida's surprise, executed a parade ground salute. To me.

Unconsciously, I returned the salute in silence, waiting for Dawson to make the next move. The man moved into a more relaxed stance, putting his hands behind his back in more of an attention stance.

Oh right, get with the game man.

"Report Captain…" I trail off, not actually wanting to freak the man out so much by just knowing his full name.

" Captain Dawson, Hill Dawson of the Lindra sir." Dawson rattled off, going off my cue.

Well if he's playing it that way then. "Status report then, captain."

Dawson nods once. "Very well sir." He takes a deep breath and then begins to rattle off what has to be a very condensed version of several reports. "The fleet contains six warships: three Endra class cruisers, two Musaka class cruisers, and the Rewloola obviously. Taking into account the last engagement, the fleet now has eight mobile suits of various models operational, including yours. We also have two dozen small craft, some loaned from our current berth owners, that are being used in the repairs of the Rewloola and to a lesser degree, the two Musakas."

That was fairly comprehensive for something off he made up on the fly. And now, I pondered, my sudden appearance probably looked even more like a freaking miracle. Adult male in a red mobile suit suddenly appears, completely owns the Federation due to a surprise attack, and sounds exactly like Char Aznable himself. But definitely not Char I swear Federation black ops teams, I swear. I grimly realized it was time to get myself out of here and somewhere where I wouldn't be easily found by unfriendlies. A place like the vastness of space.

If Dawson was willing to take cues from me right now, far be it from me to stop him.

Going off that hope, I just continued like this entire situation was normal. More than normal, I had to act like this was the norm, no exceptions- I should be in command.

Fake it until you make it after all.

"Were any of the suits taken out in the fight recoverable, or at least the pilots?" I asked Dawson.

"One of the Geara Dogas have salvageable armaments." A minute downward of his lips. "Ought to be enough left to cover Chief Petty Officer Savior's suit."

"Very well." I nod. "Anything that might be of use to us from the Federation debris?"

Even before I had completed my question, Dawson was shaking his head. "There might be some beam rifles or bazookas among the destroyed mobile suits but the risk would most certainly not be worth the reward."

I hummed. "Prisoners?"

"Gave them the same choice as they've been giving us lately: that is to say, no quarter."

Probably for the best then, the Federation didn't need any more clues as to our location although having some prisoners could have allowed us a foot to stand on if we ever got caught in a tight spot. Not to mention that there was most likely a berth of trackers embedded in every single piece of the leftover Federation ships and suits.

"Have a salvage team go ahead and collect the rifles and bazookas." I relayed my wishes to Dawson. "Be sure to have them on the lookout for pilots that may have left their cockpit. The Federation does still issue sidearms to its pilots."

"As you wish sir."

"Good. Now to begin our…" Hold up. I shifted my weight and glanced closely at Dawson. "What did you mean by replacing parts of Savior's suit with salvaged arms? He took no major damage during our engagement, and what glancing hits he did take weren't close to the suit's weapons." There was absolutely no way I would have missed one of my wingmen taking crippling damage. No way.

Dawson's eyes darted to the lounge's door, but his face remained set in stone. "Ah-"

"It's fucking obvious innit?" The grating voice of Yoshida interjected. "My pilots are weakening their combat effectiveness so that your fancy smancy MS has all its bells 'n whistles." The rather irritating woman, in my opinion, had finally put her gun away(and honestly, who did she think she was fooling with that act?) and had kicked her legs up onto the pool table, looking at us with narrowed eyes.

"Ain't nothing but a fucking hallapalooza that's gonna get even more of my people killed." She finished with a snarl.

I was ever so slightly taken aback. The hell did she mean that Geara Doga pilots were what?..cannibalizing their suits in order to add to mine? And accepting damaged parts as replacements?

I looked at Dawson but before I could ask about this, he had already engaged Yoshida with a response.

"You ought to be well aware Commander Yoshida, of the reasoning behind the actions of your pilots just as I am aware of the reasoning behind the actions of my own men." He waited a second. "And I am in full support of their actions."

"But why!?" said Yoshida. "It's been months since Axis and Fifth Luna!"

"Exactly, it's been months since Fifth Luna. Months of purely running further and further away from the Federation Commander. Jettisoning more and more ships as they become too damaged for stopgap repairs to work. Our numbers being whittled down more and more with every running retreat we are forced to engage in. Months of slowly losing safe harbors and staging areas that contain necessary supplies for the survival of the fleet." Dawson expounded, his voice growing tired. "And this time there was no Axis to retreat back to, just our eventual demise in some cold abandoned corner of the solar system once we run out of oxygen, food, or water. This stop at Colony Kudelia was the longest the fleet has had to rest since June and it was only making their morale worse."

Yoshida looked very discontent with the cards Dawson was laying out on the table. She looked like she was going to say something, even opened her mouth but decided not to as her jaw clicked back shut.

Looks like the ball is in my court then. "Was?"

Dawson didn't look over to me, instead keeping his gaze squarely on Yoshida. "Was. At the moment I haven't seen the men and women under my command so lively in a long time. When he" Referring to me. "Attacked the Federation, began beating them, I felt it. Felt hope start to run like a current through the fleet. Suddenly my crews weren't going about their tasks like they had an invisible guillotine above them but with vigor, with purpose. They believed in their cause once again."

Dawson swept his right arm in my direction. "They believe because of him. Because in him they see a new light. So that is why pilots willingly give up parts of their mobile suits and accept damaged parts in return: they believe that he will utilize them better than they could." A shrug of his shoulders. "Can he? I don't really know myself but at this point the two of us, as the senior ranking officers of the fleet, have to comply with the wishes of the majority. Full Frontal is in command and they're not having anything else. So put aside your political opinions Yoshida, we have orders to fulfil."

Dawson once more did a full body turn so that he was facing me and snapped to attention, with Yoshida surprisingly doing the same even if her posture and salute were more relaxed than Dawson's parade ground version.

"The fleet awaits your orders, sir!"

Well damn. Looks like it's time to put my game face on.

"This is what needs to happen…."