Chapter 9

U.C. 0094.1.7 0115 EOST

Von Braun 5th Municipal Hospital, The Moon, Earth Sphere

'Well this was a shitshow.' I thought as I rubbed at tired eyes. The soft and ever present beeping of hospital machinery ringing through the room. The overhead lights cast a harsh glow on the cot's sole occupant, the young youth's face looking even gaunter. Various bandages dotted his face as well. The soft click of the door opening drew my attention away from the young man and I turned to see that a white coated female doctor entered.

"Ah hello Mr. Kadwell. I was hoping that you would still be here." The matronly woman said to me. George Kadwell was the fake name I was using in my dealings here on Von Braun, and the name I used when checking in Angelo to the hospital.

"My flight has been delayed a bit Doctor, so I'll be around a little longer." I placidly said.

The doctor expressed her sympathies for the flight delay before launching into the gritty details of Angelo's injuries. A trio of broken ribs, heavy bruising on the chest, a nasty welt on the head and accompanying minor concussion. His feet suffered the greatest damage though. They'd been torn to shreds, mostly likely glass shards, required stitches and were undoubtedly infected.

"Then there is the drug damage." She flipped a page on her clipboard.

"Pardon, but drug damage?" I asked disbelievingly.

The doctor looked at the cot sadly. "Yes I'm afraid so. When we were running blood tests we found heavy trace amounts of three high strength psychodelics that are commonly found in date rape drugs. It's likely that the patient has been exposed to these drugs in large amounts over a long period of time. Frankly, it's remarkable that his organs haven't failed already or received any debilitating damage to them."

"So he will recover?" I asked.

"The drugs? Yes it seems that way provided the Naltrexone runs through his system clean." The doctor stated. "As for his injuries, that rests on infection not setting in. On the matter of the patient's recovery, we, the hospital that is, needs to know who to place the patient into the care of once he recovers. Do you know who his guardians are?"

"No and he probably doesn't have any." I told her. "I'm not the kinda person to let things go unfinished, so I'll assume guardianship of the lad if that's what you're about to ask me." I swept a hand through my hair, which I had wrangled from its natural mullet shape into a ponytail. Combined with the grey business suit and bola tie I was wearing, no one should connect me with one Char Aznable. I'd also applied some basic makeup to age my face up a bit. The ensemble did lend itself to my cover story: I was on a business trip to Von Braun to discuss my company's merger into an Anaheim Electronics subsidiary.

The doctor brightened up. "Our facilities are at capacity and I'd hate to send the child back onto the streets. Of course we'd need to get some basic paperwork done up for the patient's release. And to meet the hospital's fees."

Yay, for profit hospitals. Always a predictable group.

"Fire away." I replied, gesturing towards the clipboard. "Before we start though, when is the lad supposed to wake up?"

The doctor was dismissive. "Oh, we put him in a medical coma to quicken the healing process. The patient will wake up in about ten days. More than enough time for his feet and ribs to heal. Should lower the risk of sickness too." She handed me a few forms. "Those are the standard hospitalization fees along with the charges for the Naltrexone. This one is the guardianship form, just fill in the blanks. And the final one is the release forms, usually it takes a day or two for it to go through our system but you could get immediate release if you pay a minor fee."

A minor fee, please. Five thousand gilla is not minor. But is the kind of money a successful businessman would have ready access to.

"Not a problem at all my dear!." I started dancing the pen she had given me through the forms. "I hope it wouldn't cause too many problems if one of my assistants came to retrieve the lad. I have another meeting with Anaheim in the morning and would like to not look like I'm fresh off a zombie movie set."

I got a bright smile in response. "Not at all Mr. Kadwell. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other duties to attend to." The doctor left the room with her coat swishing behind her.

I looked down at the youth, still asleep in bed, and thought back to the tremendous mental cry I had heard. The cry that I was pretty sure Marida had also heard, based on the flinch I saw before I had dove out the sedan my group was riding in. The instant I had heard that mental cry, I had known, as if by providence, that it was Angelo. Hmmm, destiny or fate at work? Or just the right time, right place.

Not like I was going to leave anybody in the state I had found Angelo in, mental cry for help or not, but it did make me wonder.

The phone in my pocket began to buzz. I fished it out and saw that Zinnerman was calling me.

"Rest up kid. Lucky bugger." I muttered before answering the call. "Kadwell here. Zinnerman, I need you and Flaste up here. Got a job for Flaste and a development to inform you of."

I snapped the phone closed.

"Any good reason as to why we're sticking our necks out like this?" Zinnerman asked me as the two of us watched Flaste do some hacker magic on the hospital's internal systems. Nothing serious, just making it look like I had already paid for Angelo's bill, because I did not have that kind of money on me.

"Oh that's right." I suddenly remembered that Zinnerman wasn't a Newtype, and wouldn't have heard the cry for help me and Marida heard. "He's a Newtype. Fairly powerful one too."

"And that's the sole reason?" Zinnerman inquired.

"No there is more to it than that, but I find it hard to articulate to those who aren't newtypes. No offense captain." I answered. "Lieutenant Marida might be able to answer you better due to your relationship with her."

Zinnerman 'hmm'd in response.

"What's next?" He eventually asked.

"In a few hours the last meeting with Anaheim is scheduled, so there is that." I ran through the mental itinerary of today. "Then we make contact with the rest of our assets here on Luna, and make trails back to Palau."

"Sounds easy." Zinnerman remarked.

"Only on paper."

1509 EOST

Only on paper was also a good term to describe Von Braun City as I had come to find out during my brief stay here. Sure the city was the most populated and prosperous of the Luna Cities, on paper. Von Braun had the reputation as the gleaming jewel of the Moon, but so far only the very center of the city matched the reputation. After you left the center, the quality of the city would gradually decrease, like the gleaming light of the center radiated out to the rest of the city but got weaker the farther it went. The edges of Von Braun, the neighborhoods closest to the crater walls the city was built in, wouldn't be out of place in the slums of 21st century Earth.

And over the whole affair rose the gigantic dome that kept the precious atmosphere needed to sustain life on the moon entrapped. It simultaneously kept the city alive, recycled oxygen and moisture, and blocked solar radiation from boiling the residents. A true wonder of the solar system in my opinion, even if there were dozens of ones like it, doing the exact same job for their cities, dotting the Moon.

Several spaceports were built into the dome, and they were divided into different groups depending on what function they served. Some were military ports, taking on the traffic of EFSF ships that came by for. Others were intended for agricultural purposes, others for handling imports and exports of manufacturing origins, and others were purely used for traveling, like airports in my old life. These spaceports were only the public ones; however, there were also about a dozen private berths built in the Von Braun dome, the property of the city's elite or powerful entities. Like Anaheim.

It was at one of these private berths, where Zinnerman's ship had been redirected too after we made our first contact with Anaheim, that our little convoy of three black sedans rolled into, and an assorted group of characters climbed out. Zinnerman's crew in their regular clothes, myself in my disguise business suit, and a tanned, aging man with grey hair.

Kaises M. Buyer was a strange man, at least to me. He had contacts with the original Principality, I think, and had been a critical member of Axis, helping the fleet that fled the war get there. Char held in him high regard, although I think that was mainly for his diplomatic and negotiating skills. I just got a vaguely oily feeling on my skin, like goosebumps when I spent too much time around him. Regardless, Kaises had jumped right onboard the Sleeves train when I had erm...let myself into one of his offices and introduced myself, and had been excellent help in getting semi-favorable deals with the absolutely cutthroat negotiators of Anaheim.

But after two days of the nitty gritty, Char's original contracts had been upheld and Neo Zeon would receive the last of the products those contracts had designated: Four Musaka-class cruisers, with a full armament loadout, and the mobile suit complement of forty AMS-119 Geara Dogas.

It'd been hours and the simple thought still made me giddy. That was a serious power boost to the Sleeves, and if the news could be used in the right way, maybe the opening of connections with the Republic on an organizational level.

That was about where the immediate good news ended however. Neo Zeon didn't have the manpower to crew even two of those Musakas, much less train forty mobile suit pilots just laying about. We'd have to start training new soldiers, opening ranks to new blood. Opening us to spies potentially. And that was only the military side of affairs, Anaheim had all but said that they weren't going to extend Char's contracts once they expired come the end of this month. I hadn't dared bring up the AEUG in such a weak bargaining spot either, so no idea what they thought of those contracts.

Anaheim's negotiators, and the negotiators boss(present in the room through a vocally distorted speaker) and who I suspected to be Martha Vist Carbine, had dropped hints that they would be more than welcome to open new contracts with Neo Zeon just not on a pro bono level. We'd have to pay upfront to get their services, and the more money the greater the services.

Not exactly what I had wanted to hear but well in line with the pro-conflict business model Anaheim had been following since Gryps.

Kaises and I had been conversing in the sedan but I broke off the conversation to call over Gilboa.

"Take three crewmembers and go to this address in the city. Once you get there, check the place out before you move in. A man named Horst Harness will meet you out front at exactly 2000 EOST with some luggage. You will then take Mr. Harness back to this dock and ensure that he boards that shuttle over there." I pointed to the docked shuttle next to the Garan. "Mr. Harness is a long standing VIP. Let no harm come to him. Understood?"

Gilboa had slipped into soldier mode when it became clear that I had orders for him. "Sir yes sir!"

"Dismissed." I waved him off.

I heard a muffled chuckle come from the man next to me and looked over at him. Kaises saw my look and gave one last chuckle before responding.

"The thought of poor Horst having so little luggage with him, hehe. He is always one for the finer things in life." Kaises informed me.

"He seemed reasonably enthused when I offered the position at La Vie en Rose III. I hope he doesn't think there is going to be a five star hotel waiting for him." I said, semi-muttering the last part under my breath.

Kaises chopped the air with his hand. "No, Horst likes his work. He'll get it done, it's just that he was always complaining about his hip, says that zero g never did it any favors. Not going to be a happy camper by the end of his little stay I reckon."

"Back to the new contracts we were discussing-" I led us away from Harness's bad hip. "How much does Anaheim want?"

"At minimum?...maybe a couple million up front, then they'd probably do the same as what Char got and give you some lines of credit due back in a five year period." He shrugged. "I haven't been involved in that type of work for a decade, so the fine print may have changed."

Yeesh that was a lot. "Dare I ask what would have to be coughed up for some of the more ambitious programs I have planned?" I had to let Kaises in on a few of my long term plans so that he could work over Anaheim's negotiators on pricing.

"Not really a number for that, but close to a third of what Char paid the Federation for Axis I reckon."

Yeeeeeesh.

"Then work on getting a concrete number from them. If all goes to plan, by the end of the month we will have the necessary monetary resources to start expansion. I want a price range for these items as soon as possible." I handed Kaises a short list. "These are some items we would be willing to gift to Anaheim if they are interested, provided they are willing to play ball."

Kaises looked over the list. He quirked his eyebrows up. "Well this is more than I've had at my disposal before. It should definitely keep them interested. Anything else Mr. Kadwell?"

"Two more. One: I want you to name drop something at times in the talks. The second part is separate from the Anaheim talks: insure that Imago Trading has at least an office somewhere in Von Braun." I told him.

Imago Trading was the fake corporation I used as my place of work when I had entered Von Braun, and the name I had used to get in the door with Anaheim to arrange a meeting that myself and Kaises had attended.

"It would add a degree of separation between us and Anaheim." Kaises mused. "I'll see what I can do. And what name would you like me to drop?"

"Sinanju Stein."

U.C. 0094.1.10

Space around Palau, L4

~brinnng!~

The mobile suit blared at me as something swooped down at me from above. I stifled a curse, of course the other one wasn't dead. Disengaged my beam sword from the axe pressing against it, I did a hard dash to the left, barely avoiding the beam lance that would have struck me right on the head.

I moved my suit's machine gun so that it was diagonal against the torso. Blatatatatat, the suit's interiors hummed as the meters long weapon spat its deadly vollet at the two suits. The lancer suit had one of its shoulder thrusters hit, but the axe suit rocketed forward, going under the stream of fire and raising its own machine gun.

My suit juked upwards, and redirected beam fire at the axe suit. Another sensor alert as the lancer charged at me with tremendous speed. It moved so fast that it had blue thrust contrails behind it. I tore my beam sword-axe from its charging rack and intercepted a thrust from the lance. One, two, three follow up thrusts were batted away as the two of us flew terribly close to one another, neither willing to be the first to break off and open themselves up. My burst of beam fire kept the axe mobile suit too focused on dogging to assist its partner.

Soon I was unable to fire at the axe user as he had fallen behind the lancer and I had lost sight of him. He was probably straining his thrusters to the max to catch up to us. Based on the acceleration of his mobile suit's model, I'd give him five seconds before he's closed the gap. Perfect.

As the lancer wound up for a mighty overhead slash, I slammed my machine gun into its waist rack and accelerated. My beam sword intercepting the overhead slash and forcing it to the side. Then I barreled over the lancer as my free left arm shoulder checked it, stunning the pilot. Three seconds had passed and to the axe using suit's credit, they had closed the gap completely. Had I been any slower or performed a different maneuver, he'd have been on my back in an instant.

Still he had been ready to attack me, so as I pushed over his partner he was able to get off a few shots, that impacted into my suit's waist, before my sword crashed into his head and…

Flicked off as its training mode setting came into play, preventing damage from being inflicted on Savior's Geara Doga, and Savior himself. I quickly took my machine gun back out and put a trio of bursts in the back of Jess's Dreissen, thereby winning the training match.

"And that's a match." I called out over the open comms. Two good natured groans answered my declaration of victory.

I carried on. "Good job you two. Jess, you managed to keep up with me despite being limited to your melee weapon. Savior, you adapted well to your partner's limitations and acted at the anvil to her hammer, pining me in place so that she could land a killing blow. It didn't work, but that is the kind of maneuvering you should keep practicing outside of these little spars of ours."

"How did you manage to avoid that last dive attack sir?" Jess asked me through pants, her tone a mix of awe and frustration at missing me. I wasn't breathing hard, the bonus of enhanced oxygen processing lungs and a stronger heart.

"My suit picked up your movement just before you entered striking distance." I replied. I heard a muffled thud, like Jess had smacked the armrest of her seat.

"Drat, I wished my Dreissen could do that." She said. Savior and Jess's faces popped up on the panoramic monitor and I could see Jess finish shaking her head.

"I thought the Dreissen's sensors were on the same level as the Geara Doga series?" I asked.

"Well the AMX-009 can, it's just that my Dreissen can't. Took a nasty hit during a skirmish back in 0091 that knocked something up with the sensors and it's never been as accurate." Jess explained. "Also didn't have all the spare parts lying around, so it's not like the techies could replace it wholesale with a factory fresh model. They had to cherry pick what was beyond saving and fix up the rest."

Another harsh reminder that my forces could be performing better. Issues like Jess' had been popping up very frequently as I ordered a comprehensive performance exam of all mobile suits in the Sleeves. With the Geara Dogas, any internal parts issues was relatively easy to clean up thanks to the surplus spare parts that we still had available, but in time that surplus would dry out and the Geara Dogas would end up in the same situation as the older mobile suits: aging with a plethora of health issues.

Some of the groups that had made their way to Palau since the start of the new year, and another rallying cry using Char's tablet, had the same issues and had managed some workarounds. Like creating the mobile suit version of Frankenstein, only Frankenstein wasn't at risk of detonating his internal nuclear reactor if something went wrong. So I had ordered the performance exams to try and figure out each suit's abilities and concerns, using the opportunity to spar with just about every pilot in the Sleeves.

And the variation in performance was remarkable. Char era suits performed just fine, expected due to them being the most modern in our arsenal, so they ended up being the baseline. Principality era suits ended up being the closest to meeting the Geara Dogas, mainly because the only Principality era suits we had were Gelgoogs, a very good suit by any definition of the term. It ended up being the Axis era suits that had the most deviation in them, with entire ship detachments being unsuitable for further combat use, although I didn't voice that opinion out loud. The Gazas and Dra-Cs being the most egregious offenders(I will destroy those fucking pink monstrosities I swear it.) and the Gazas were meant to fight back in 0084 at best, not 0089.

The recent influx of Axis era suits, from a Zanzibar-II class, had ended up being the best Axis era suits we had: a freaking AMX-107 Bawoo and two AMX-102 Zssa. That Schuzrum-Galluss the Zanzibar-II's ranking MS officer piloted was another matter entirely, but Lieutenant Bea apparently swore by it from what his captain told me. The parts for what the techies had told me were four Zaku-IIIs was another story because they lacked reactors for the suits.

Jess and Savior had already been examined, the two of them just ended up being the ones most capable of keeping up with me, so I had kinda turned them into my semi-official sparring partners.

All the findings of the examinations had only reinforced my belief that we desperately needed those Geara Dogas Anaheim was in possession of, if only to use our pilots at their full ability. But we also need ships to transport those mobile suits. Vessels that weren't warships.

My attention was brought back to Calyx as we flew closer to it. Perhaps it was time for another deep search into its berths. We had gotten some very useful heavy machinery the last time.

As the three of us rounded the tip of the asteroid, I got a good look at the fleet. More specifically the two green Musakas that were just outside the main dock, performing the last of their shakedown no doubt.

Savior whistled over the comms. "I'll say that I haven't seen the Claxon looking so fine since she departed Sweetwater sir. The green suits her."

"Indeed Savior, the red never looked right on them in my opinion." I mused. With the repairs on the Renewed and the Claxon complete, we could move onto the much more challenging job of fixing up the Rewloola. That ship definitely needed more material than we currently had in our possession and I very much doubted any place on Palau had that kind of material either. Pepe had said as such when I had posited the question to him during the beginning of the month.

And that's what it all came back to didn't it?

We needed more materials, more mobile suits, more mobile suit pilots, more weaponry, more men, more money, more everything. Neo Zeon was a greedy beast it seemed, always hungering for what would keep her running. I had taken the initial steps to mitigate the hunger, as evident by the public examinations and the not public yet and termed by myself 'New Unified Maintenance Plan'.

The NUMP would basically redesign the structure of what mobile suits Neo Zeon used and their combat roles. The plan was still in its design stages and I hadn't introduced it to my captains, though I had brought Dawson in to help.

Guess what? We didn't even have the mobile suits for the NUMP to even be operational, so it was on the backburner.

After my return from Von Braun, I had become convinced that we needed a truly vast amount of wealth and military grade resources if we didn't want to become horrendously in debt to Anaheim, and remain an independent entity instead of dancing to the tune of the sole megacorp in the Earth Sphere.

There was only one place in the solar system that could possibly have what we needed, all in one neat package: Axis. The only trouble was that we had to find two rogue pieces of an asteroid that had had a year to zoom off to God knows where. No stress.

But for the moment I had the peace of flying to take my mind off things, and the spars I did with Savior and Jess. An idea Dawson had passed by before my tripp of Von Braun, an idea I had initially turned down, came back.

"A personal guard huh." I looked to my right and left. "Might not be that bad of an idea."