Okay, bit of a screwup in the last chapter. I messed up with the Solar Knight organizational structure and ended up with something that would be a pain in the ass to command. As a result, had to make some changes.
Previously, a Solar Knight squadron had at least one team of twelve Mobile Suits, lead by a Knight-Lieutenant and another team of twelve Mobile Suits, lead by a Knight-Captain. This would result in an unwieldy formation with little, if any flexibility, and immense workload for the commanding officers.
After the changes, the smallest unit of Solar Knights is the lance. A four pilot team, consisting of three Knight-Ensigns and led by a Knight-Lance-Ensign (Lance-Knight for short). Two or more lances (depends on the situation) make up a platoon, which is led by a Knight-Lieutenant. Two to four platoons make up a squadron, which is led by a Knight-Captain.
It's a relatively small detail, but it's been bugging me a lot. Hopefully, this makes things simpler.
It took two days until some semblance of order was restored aboard the Valiant and the ship returned to what might have been considered normal state. The ship had taken relatively minor damage, most of the Retributor fire had been aimed at the Suvorov, and most of the damage was on the outer layers. The hull had been breached in some places, but none of them were truly dangerous and there had been no loss of life. Some minor injuries, sure, but nothing life threatening and the breaches had been fixed in record time. Though the ship still bore scars from the battle, they were limited to outer layers of the hull and the damage control teams could repair them without worrying about how their lack of progress could endanger someone's life.
The situation was the complete opposite among the Solar Knights. They had entered the battle with two squadrons of fourteen Mobile Suits each. After the battle, only twelve Mobile Suits remained, seven of them damaged. Five were repaired within a day and the last two would require a lot more work until they could be deployed again. Among the pilots the situation was equally bad. The heavy firepower of older designs often meant that the destruction of a Mobile Suit also meant the death of a pilot. In the few cases when the pilot did survive, they were often left with horrible injuries. Burns were especially common. In the end sixteen pilots survived, though four of them would not see any deployment anytime soon.
To say that the morale among the survivors was low was an understatement. Their very first battle had seen them almost entirely wiped out. If not for the arrival of Angela and her forces, they would be either dead or captured by the Retributors. Neither option was attractive, considering that, according to intel, the Retributors often either tortured their prisoners or outright killed them. They were founded by the remnants of the Blue Cosmos after all.
The dark mood was further compounded by the death of Knight-Captain Brock. His leadership of the squadron had lasted only a couple of weeks, but during that time he had proved himself to be a reasonable authority figure. A veteran of the Second Bloody Valentine War as well as the Brotherhood Incident, his experienced advice had helped many pilots to improve. Though his stern leadership style made it difficult to like him, his guiding hand had helped dealing with the various problems his squadron encountered. Sadly, his death had caused one major problem that would be very difficult to solve.
"The solution is very simple. As of this moment, your squadrons no longer exist and you will be added to our existing regular squadrons to replace the losses. Serving under more experienced Lance-Knights will get you sorted much faster." Angela announced to the gathered group of survivors in the Valiant's mess hall. Shortly after reaching the task force, lead by a Magister class battle carrier the Sibrand, Angela had informed them that an intelligence briefing would be held aboard the Valiant. The idea was to brief the new arrivals of the situation and, as it turned out, do some reorganization.
"I guess that's better than keeping us together in one, miserable pile. Spread the sadness around, you know." Azhar leaned forward to whisper to Roland and Rebecca, who were sitting in the row in front of him.
Rebecca exhaled though her nose a bit more forceful than usual, while Roland frowned. He saw the wisdom in the decision. They had suffered way too many casualties to keep functioning as a unit and there was no way to rebuild the squadron in a timely fashion, considering how far away they were from Earth. At the same time, the defeat, while unpleasant, was a memory they shared as a group. It was something that united them and, hopefully, serve as a motivation to do better in the future. Taking it away felt wrong.
Fortunately for them, Angela either didn't notice or paid no attention to their reactions and happily continued her briefing. Her attitude was the opposite of her audience. While almost everyone had a morose look on their face, Angela looked and sounded like she was telling that tomorrow will be a beautiful, sunny day. It was further compounded by her appearance. The white, shoulder length hair, tied in a braid, pale skin and golden-yellow eyes somehow made the entire room feel brighter. Even the primarily black flight suit and jacket she wore did not diminish the effect. "Before that, we have to cover a few things in regards to our hunt for the Retributors. As you saw for yourselves, things are quite serious over here."
"No kidding. That was nothing like what they told us." Roland heard a whisper coming from somewhere to his right. Unlike Azhar, the pilot was not so lucky as to avoid detection.
Angela instantly locked on to him with a neutral expression. The room fell silent as everyone waited to see her reaction. "Oh? And what did they tell you about the Retributors?"
The pilot, a survivor from Eriksson's squadron, swallowed nervously. He had not expected to find himself in a spotlight like that. "Well… I mean… The instructor told us that the Retributors are terrorists. Remnants of the Brotherhood and Blue Cosmos. Degenerates who seek to undo everything the USN has built and what it stands for. They are cowards who attack..."
"Who attack defenseless targets with their outdated Mobile Suits, since that is all they are capable of." Angela continued in a high pitched nasal voice that, to many sounded somewhat familiar. Noticing the confused looks, she chuckled. "Let me guess, the name of the instructor was Cecile Dehondt, mid thirties, black curly hair and she's about this high." She held her hand at her shoulder level.
When more than half of the pilots replied with hesitant nods, Angela sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She remained that way for a while before speaking again. When she did, it was in the tone usually used to call someone an idiot without actually doing so. "Cecile is… well… that woman has never been anywhere close to the belt. As for her actual experience, let's put it this way, every single person in this room has more hands-on experience with the Retributors than she has."
"Wait, so she was lying to us?" Rebecca said. "What the hell? Why?"
"She wasn't lying. Not exactly. It's just that the information she gave you was inaccurate. For example, the reason why the Retributors go after easy targets has nothing to do with cowardice. In a straight up brawl they do not have the resources to defeat us. This is why ambushes are the order of the day. Consider this lesson number one. You will never be in a fair fight with them and usually they're the ones firing the first shot. Which leads me to my next point." Angela sat down on a table and used a remote to turn on one of the wall mounted displays. The screen showed various images of Mobile Suits.
Roland and several others quickly noticed that the Mobile Suit models had one thing in common. All of them were considered outdated. "As you can clearly see, they are using a lot of older designs. You can pretty much expect every type of Mobile Suit built in the last, well, forever. Don't get cocky though. A lot of these old designs pack hell of a punch. They can take out a Mobile Suit with a single hit, leaving behind a mere handful of scraps. Furthermore, some of the designs have been modified, with newer tech, which makes them even more dangerous. Observe." Angela quickly flipped through several designs and stopped on an image that showed a four-legged Mobile Suit. The centauroid design held a pair of heavy weapons in its hands and had a long range missile launcher on one shoulder and some sort of a boxy contraption on the other. A bundle of power cables stretched from its torso to a large battery pack, crudely attached to its back.
"This is a heavily modified Cataphract from the Isolation-era, codename Chiron. The original design was a front line fire support unit and relied heavily on the Archmage combat platforms, since it had lousy staying power. As you can see, the Retributors have solved the problem by attaching an external battery to its back. A volatile and dangerous solution, if the thing would ever show up on a battlefield. Problem is, the Chiron is never used in its original role. Here, it serves as a long range sniper unit. Most of the time the thing is equipped with linear sniper rifles, though sometime of them do carry a FRALA instead. The boxy thing on the shoulder here..." Angela pointed at the device behind the machine's left shoulder. "…is a drone dispenser. The Chiron uses these drones to observe the battlefield from afar and stay out of danger. If you ever get the chance to take out a Chiron, go for it. The pilots are usually crack shots and will inflict a lot of damage if not taken out quickly. Moving on."
The next image was a grainy picture of a Mobile Suit, as if taken from a great distance. The details were a bit blurred, but it didn't take long for everyone to spot the distinctive head fin, the two large thruster banks behind its shoulders and realize that they were looking at THE Mobile Suit. The Ginn. The very first Mobile Suit used in combat. A design that was almost twenty years old. More than one pilot gave Angela an incredulous look. Sure, the Retributors were using outdated Mobile Suits, but there was outdated and then there was ancient. The Ginn had been outdated by the end of the First Bloody Valentine War. There was no way such an ancient design could be a serious threat.
As if sensing their opinion, Angela gave a humorless smile and nodded. "That's right boys and girls. A Ginn. An outdated Mobile Suit. However, the threat it poses comes from the way it is used. This is the Retributors' main long range scout, codename Oculus. The image quality is too bad to see, but the thing is equipped with a massive sensor array on its back. The sensors are quite advanced and powerful enough to rival some warships. It allows the Retributors to detect our forces from an absurd range, despite the interference from asteroids. It's one of the reasons why they often seem to be one step ahead of us. I've been asking the folks back home for something of our own, but the answer have been disappointing. Anyway, this thing's main contribution to combat is intelligence. It is not a combat unit, though sometimes they do carry VTP launchers. The Oculus has an even higher target priority than a Chiron. These things must be taken out." Angela emphasized the importance of the last sentence by tapping the table with her finger at every word.
"In fact, always make sure the enemy is dead. Any damaged Mobile Suit that makes it off the battlefield, will come back sooner or later. The Retributors have access to Red Eden and FPR technology. Resources are not an issue. Pilots are. A lot of their pilots are veterans of various conflicts, which makes each loss a costly one. It also makes them extremely dangerous. Especially when they're piloting one of these." Once again Angela flipped through several images before finding the correct one. The first thought many had was that the Retributors had somehow gotten their hands on a Vindicator and painted it various shades of grey. However, a closer inspection revealed that the design was merely based on a Vindicator. It's limbs were thinner and slightly longer than those of a Vindicator. The torso was also a bit narrower, making the Mobile Suit look like a gangly version of a Vindicator. It did not look impressive, but by this point, everyone in the room was certain that there was a lot more to it than met the eye.
"This is the Punisher. As you can see, it is based on the Vindicator. It has less armor, which contributes to the slim appearance, but with Phase Shift armor, it is immune to standard ballistic weapons either way. It is faster and more agile than your Mobile Suits and it also has a nuclear reactor, so don't expect to outlast it like you would a battery powered machine. It also means that most energy type weapons are not a problem and can be used liberally. We still don't have the full specs on it, but we strongly suspect that the Punisher has a NIC type control system, which means that close combat is a risky endeavor."
With every thing Angela said, Roland grew increasingly concerned. Even before the briefing Roland had a healthy respect for the Retributors, but as the briefing continued and Angela continued to list the variety of threats, such as minefields, asteroids turned into automated turrets and so on, he came to a chilling realization. They were in way over their heads. This was not the casual pest control they had been told about back home. This was an actual war. He ran his hand through his blond hair and rubbed the back of his head in an attempt to relieve the tension. It did not help much. The desire to run back home and return with the entire Solar Protection Fleet behind him was strong.
Eventually, his concern grew to a point where he could not stay quiet. Roland raised his hand, interrupting Angela's briefing on the leader of the Retributors, Ashino Markov and his Retribution Gundam. "Apologies for the interruption, but considering the situation why aren't there more of us? This is clearly a considerable threat we're facing. Logic dictates we counter it with overwhelming force. So, why the SPF is not here? Where are the Crystal Knights?" Judging from the murmurs around him and Azhar's clap on his shoulder, Roland was not the only one with such thoughts.
"Good question. One with a complicated answer." Angela did not mind the interruption. She tapped the table she was sitting on as she composed her reply. "Roughly speaking, it's about balance of power. The Retributors are not stupid. They know very well that they have no chance against the USN in a straight up fight. The moment we bring in an Incarnate and its attending fleet, the Retributors will run away to some distant hiding hole and then proceed to pester us from there. Instead, we are keeping our presence in the belt low enough for them to not run away. Our main task here is to comb the asteroid belt, alongside other task forces, until we find something important they cannot afford to abandon. Once they're forced to stand and fight, then we will call in the big guns. It's a slow job that takes forever to yield results and can get extremely dangerous. Not the sort of task the important folks back home have a stomach for."
Once again, the sensible answer frustrated Roland, but he forced that feeling down. It was pointless, counterproductive even, to get upset just because the task at hand was difficult. Few things in life were easy. Sometimes it was necessary to put in a lot of effort to solve a problem. Roland just hoped his effort and that of his comrades' would be enough to put an end to these terrorists. Hopefully, there was a limit to how many unpleasant revelations Angela's briefing had yet to reveal.
...
"Heh, we got assigned to the same lance, talk about luck." Rebecca adjusted the bag on her shoulder as she, Roland and Azhar walked down the Valiant's hallway. "I'd hate to be sent to a new unit all by myself. Being all alone, having to meet new people. I hate that."
Azhar looked over his shoulder with an amused grin. Roland chuckled when he saw that look, he knew what was about to come. "Aww, is the big, tough girl afraid of strangers? Wait, or did you hate meeting new people because they're usually scared of you?" The black haired man darted forward, just in time to avoid being hit by Rebecca's bag.
Rebecca glared at Azhar and then looked at Roland, her steel gray eyes daring him to say anything. Roland merely shrugged and shook his head. Rebecca was a bit sensitive about her size. The tall, amazonian build made her an intimidating sight and had been a source of bullying throughout her childood. Especially, when people found out that Rebecca had a rather timid nature and was not the merciless brute many imagined her to be. In fact, Rebecca was quite feminine. She loved wearing dresses and often visited a beauty salon to style her long, curly copper red hair. Joining the military had done wonders for the fair-skinned woman's confidence, but there were still times when things got under her skin.
"Okay, okay. Chill. Sorry about the size joke." Azhar held his own bag in front of him as a shield when it looked like Rebecca was considering pursuing him. "I just could not pass up on such an opportunity."
"Fuck you, pipsqueak. Everything I say tends to be an opportunity for a joke." Rebecca said, though she did slow down and stepped back so that she was walking next to Roland. Unfortunately, her attempt to insult Azhar's height had no success. Azhar had heard so many jokes about his height, he had become immune to them. Standing at just 158 centimeters tall, Azhar was easily the shortest of the three. Rebecca and her height of 180 centimeters made her the second tallest of the group, after Roland's height of 186 centimeters. Azhar's short stature was made even more evident by his slim build and no matter how much time he spent in the gym, the dark skinned knight could not put on any muscle.
Still, despite his short height, or maybe because of it, Azhar was a bundle of energy. He didn't sleep much, was rarely exhausted and his purple eyes were on a constant lookout for any opportunity of entertainment. Movies, computer games, Mobile Suit simulators, sports or simple jokes, Azhar always managed to avoid boredom.
Despite their occasional bickering Roland enjoyed serving together with the two Coordinators. Roland had met them during basic training and they had quickly become friends. They were good people and Roland was happy to have them by his side. He was even happier about Angela's decision to keep them together. Roland was not particularly bothered by the idea of meeting new people, but there was comfort in having familiar people by his side.
Their journey took them to one of the airlocks that connected the Valiant to the Sibrand via an umbilical corridor. A small squad of marines were stationed near the entrance for security, but it took only a moment for the leader of the squad to check their transfer orders and wave them through. Roland hesitated a moment before stepping through the hatch and into the access corridor. The thought that only a few layers of thin plastic separated him from deadly vacuum was a scary one. All it took was a single… Roland shook his head and marched forward, his eyes locked on the Sibrand's airlock at the far end of the Corridor. At least it wasn't transparent.
"Hey, Rebecca, doesn't this thing look way too flimsy to you?" A rustling sound made Roland look over his shoulder to where Azhar was rubbing the innermost insulating layer. At the same time he was looking at Roland with a wide grin on his face. That familiar grin.
"What? No, it looks like a standard… oh, I see. Now that you mention it, it does look fragile." Rebecca needed a moment to realize Azhar's intentions. She took it a step further by giving the plastic a few sharp pokes. Roland said nothing, he continued walking at a hurried pace, his bag gripped tight, ignoring the series of laughs from behind him. Even though he knew very well that there were a lot of safety measures in place to keep them alive in case of an accident, it did little to make him feel better.
"C'mon, let's go. We don't have much time." Roland urged them forward in an attempt to distract them. It worked only partially. Azhar and Rebecca followed him, but the laughs and Azhar's occasional poking at the wall did not stop.
Fortunately, the passageway was not long and soon they were at the entrance to Sibrand. There was a brief pause as the Sibrand's security team made their own checks, but it did not take long and the trio were free to enter the ship. Almost instantly they noticed that the Sibrand's interior was more spacious than Valiant's and some effort had gone into decor. The combination of off-white walls and royal blue floor was in stark contrast with the extremely utilitarian and bare metal design of the Valiant. Even the lights had a warm yellow-ish tone, unlike Valiant's harsh white internal lightning. However, they did not get to enjoy the relatively luxurious design for long before they made met the impatient gaze of a man, standing not far from the entrance.
The man was in his early forties and was of average build and height. Like Angela, he was also wearing a flight suit and the uniform jacket. Similarly to her, the man also had the pale complexion of a long time spacer. In most cases it was a clear sign that the person was a Coordinator, but the fact that the brown hair on his head were growing thin, with the top of his head being bald, it was obvious the guy was a Natural, with a genetic disposition for hair loss. Still, the stern gaze of his pale green eyes easily compensated for it.
Although Roland had no idea who this man was, he was certain the guy was their commanding officer, Lance-Knight Anthony Tarleton. The man was certainly looking at them like he was in charge of them. And even if he wasn't, Roland felt like he should at least present himself to a higher rank if nothing else. He dropped his bag and snapped off a salute. "Knight-Ensign Roland Bec..." He didn't get to finish before the Lance-Knight responded.
"You're here. Good. Let's go. We have much work to do." It took barely a second for the man to return the salute, gesture them to follow him and walk off, forcing Roland to grab his bag and hurry after him. Still, Roland fared better than Rebecca and Azhar who didn't even get the chance to salute. "Yes, I am Lance-Knight Anthony Tarleton. As of now you are in my lance. Lance-Knight Yuriko Miyazawa is in charge of the second lance. Platoon leader is Knight-Lieutenant Samuel Gonzalez. Squadron leader is Knight-Captain Thomas Blackwell. Understood, yes?" Anthony led them down the corridor at a pace that made everyone coming the opposite direction make way for him regardless of rank.
"I will show you where your quarters are. You will leave your personal belongings there and then you will go the changing room and get in your flight suits. We're deploying in thirty minutes." He continued to talk, seemingly without the need to breathe as they stopped in front of an elevator. "Samuel does not like to wait. Understood, yes?"
"Half an hour? Deployment? We just got here." Rebecca was the first to regain the ability to speak after the surprise announcement as they followed Anthony inside the elevator.
"The enemy rarely sleeps. When they do, it's our job to keep them awake. You three have experience working together. That is why you were kept together. No need to get used to each other. You also had two days without combat. Enough rest, yes?" That last sentence did not sound like a question. The elevator pinged to a halt as they reached the crew quarters. "Come now."
Roland shared a glance with Azhar and Rebecca. None of them seemed to be happy with their new commanding officer. However, Roland was not sure he shared the sentiment. Yes, the first impression was bad, but it wasn't like he had a lot of experience with leadership styles. Brock had been a strict leader and Roland couldn't say a single bad thing about him. Perhaps Anthony was similar?
"Okay, let's see who I'm working with." Anthony stopped them in front of a room and pulled out a tablet computer. "So, Rebecca Smith. Good all-round score … Comprehensive Vindicator qualification … short to medium range preference … cautious … narrow focus." He looked up at the young woman, his gaze completely neutral.
"Umm… I'm sorry, I sometimes tend to..." Rebecca stammered with a notable flush coloring her cheeks. Anthony silenced her with a shake of his head.
"Not a question. Just facts from your file. We'll see. This is your room. You will be alone for now. Keep it clean. Understood, yes?" As before, it did not sound like a question. It was simply the way Anthony talked. Roland, Azhar and Rebecca exchanged brief nods before the two men followed Anthony down the corridor, leaving Rebecca to settle in.
Meanwhile, Anthony was reading the second file. "Roland Beckett. Great score … Comprehensive Vindicator… NIC qualified?" This time it was definitely a question. A good question, since Vindicator pilots had no need for such training. Sure, a lot of pilots did try out the control system in the simulators, just for the pure thrill of it if nothing else. But to actually take the courses and qualify for it, there was no reason for it, not unless they were being promoted to a Paladin rank.
"Yes, I had access to such facilities because of my personal resources and I had the opportunity to take the courses during basic training. That and I aim to become a Paladin." A series of unconvincing coughs from Azhar broke up the silence as Anthony looked back at Roland, as if evaluating his reply. Sadly, or perhaps fortunately, Anthony said nothing and his expression betrayed nothing. It was aggravating. It was obvious the man was an experienced pilot and was therefore qualified to comment on whether Roland was or was not Paladin material. Sadly, no such approval came and Roland had to comfort himself with the thought that Anthony had not said anything negative. It was something.
With a swipe of his finger Anthony switched to a new file. Azhar instantly corrected his posture, making himself look more presentable. There was a pause. A long one. Then Anthony stopped. He turned around and stared at Azhar, who suddenly had the deer in the headlights look on his face. Roland, ever so slightly, took a small step to the side. Out of the way of fire. Anthony looked at the tablet and then back at Azhar, his emotionless facade cracking. What leaked through the cracks was a mixture of frustration and annoyance. Not a good sign. In the end Anthony took a deep breath and glared at the display. "Azharuddin ... Balasubramanian … Are you serious?" Another question, not good. Antony's questions did not have a happy ending.
"Hkhm… Azhar is fine, sir." Azhar managed after clearing his throat. Anthony kept staring at him as if Azhar had purposefully decided on his own name just to annoy him.
"Yeah. It is … Standard qualifications … Heavy weapons expertise." Another deep breath. "Your room. Keep it clean. I will return in five minutes and take you to the changing room." He pointed at the nearby door and left without saying a word.
With Azhar still rooted to the floor, Roland stepped forward and opened the door. It was the standard two person cabin one could find on any USN warship. Though this one looked a bit more luxurious. Nothing major, just a bit more space and an extra layer of refinement. A set of bunk beds, a wall mounted display with a table underneath it and a pair of chairs. There was also a closet and what looked like doors that led to a small bathroom. Okay, the room was a lot more luxurious than a standard one if they had their own bathroom.
With a toss of his bag, Roland claimed the bottom bed as he entered the room. A second later, Azhar regained full control of his body and quietly walked in, using the act of bag tossing to claim the upper bed. "Holy crap, that was… The guy looked at me as if I had insulted his entire family." Azhar sighed in relief and flopped down on one of the chairs. He ran his hand through his curly hair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All because he finds it hard to pronounce my name. I mean, c'mon, if he's going to be pissed at least let it be for a reason."
"I don't think he was angry. He was just caught off guard." Roland sat down on the bed and pulled the zipper on his bag, but decided to stop halfway through. No need to unpack just yet. They were about to head out on a mission, there would be plenty of time to unpack later.
Azhar cracked one eye open to glare at him. "He was angry. He wasn't looking at you, so you did not notice it." He lowered his hand with a sigh and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I'm not sure I'm happy with him. He strikes me as one of those leaders who sees his subordinates as simple tools. Things to be used and discarded without a second thought. My father used to be the same way."
"Look, we've barely met the guy. Yes, the first impression was far from great, but perhaps there's more to him than meets the eye. Brock was similar and he was a great leader." Roland had to suppress a brief pang of sorrow and judging from the way Azhar pursed his lips, the feeling was mutual. "All I'm saying, let's give him a chance. Perhaps it will work out in the end. Besides, they decided to keep us together, so we'll have each other to help deal with any issues." Roland pressed on.
Azhar, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling, tapped the floor with his heel. Roland's words made sense and the soothing reminder that he was not alone, helped banish the unpleasant memories. "Ever the optimist, huh?" He smiled and shook his head. Roland was right, there was always the chance that Anthony was a relatively decent person one they got to know him.
"I try to focus on the positive things. Helps dealing with the unpleasant stuff life is so eager to throw in all directions." Roland pushed the bag further away from the edge of the bed and got up. He stretched slightly and checked the time. "Anthony will be back soon. Best be ready." With a sigh Azhar stood up and cast a quick glance at his bag. Like Roland, he decided to do the unpacking later, once they were done with whatever Anthony had in mind.
He headed towards the doors so he could meet Anthony in the hallway. Azhar wanted to keep at least one room aboard this ship free of Anthony's presence. "C'mon. Let us not make our glorious leader wait. Let's see what he has planned for us."
...
"Roland Beckett in the Vindicator, launching." Roland was slammed into his seat as the linear catapult launched him from the Sibrand. Thanks to training, he recovered almost instantly and took control of his Mobile Suit, quickly moving to the side, in case someone was taking off behind him. It was a wasted effort, since he was the last to use that catapult. Nevertheless, it was a good habit to have. Loitering in the path of a launch trajectory never ended good. Even if no accidents happened, disciplinary punishments were severe.
Once he was well clear of the Sibrand, Roland moved his Vindicator to take his place among the rest of Solar Knights. The force consisted of two lances, four Vindicators each, that made up the platoon, lead by a Knight-Lieutenant. In Roland's opinion, the size of the force was worryingly small, considering that two days ago the Retributors had defeated a unit three times the size. It didn't matter that reinforcements had arrived at the last moment, a defeat was a defeat. A pilot whose confidence had taken a blow and who was now worried about guns hiding behind every asteroid, was only marginally more useful than a dead one.
If anyone was having the same thoughts as Roland, they didn't show it. The moment Roland joined the formation, Knight- Lieutenant Samuel Gonzalez ordered them to follow him to some unknown destination. Large portion of Roland's concern came from the fact that neither he or Rebecca or Azhar had any idea what their mission was. Anthony hadn't said anything, other than emphasizing the need for haste at every opportunity. Don't think, don't ask questions and quickly do as you're told. Not the best leadership style and certainly not the best way to instill confidence in the new arrivals. It was just asking for trouble.
Roland's concern eventually rose to a point where he could not keep quiet. He had to do something. He keyed the comms to a platoon-wide channel. "Knight-Lieutenant, sir, what are..."
"Quiet! Not now!" The severity of Samuel's voice caught Roland off guard. He had not expected such a response. He had asked, or tried to, a legitimate question. It was his right as a pilot to know what was expected of him, so that he could actually do it. There was no way he could blindly follow orders without question. Anger started to well up inside him. Was this how they ran missions out here? Was this how the rank and file were treated? "Okay, everyone. Link up for direct contact transmission. Turn off all other comms." Samuel's calm voice put a hold to the thoughts of rebellion.
The entire platoon joined together, forming a long chain of Mobile Suits. The action was slightly complicated for those with heavy weapons, but eventually the task was done. A moment later, once everyone had made sure they were on direct contact comms only, Samuel continued. "I know many of you would like to know what's the deal with all this secrecy, but I can't tell you that. Mostly because I myself know very little about it. However, the "why" is irrelevant. It is the "what" that's important. And what we are out here to do is to have some payback for that ambush two days ago. We have intel on a supply delivery for the Retributors. Normally, we would leave them be, since going after it would reveal that we have knowledge of some of their operations. But we cannot allow them to operate with impunity. We have to send them a message."
"Usually, a single lance would be enough for this task. Two civilian freighters with one or two Mobile Suits for security. Not much of a threat, especially if they're not expecting visitors. Having said that, there is a potential for trouble. The Retributors have been getting increasingly bold lately, so we're going with extra backup. The plan is simple. Yuriko, your lance and I will be the main force. We'll go in and disrupt their little party. Anthony, you're the backup. If things get problematic, you'll jump in. Any questions?"
Roland could not think of any questions. The plan was a straightforward one, thus few things could go wrong. The reason for the secrecy, while annoying, was also sensible. Especially considering they didn't have time for extensive briefing. Part of him was ashamed for getting worked up so quickly and the other part was happy he hadn't taken any hasty actions. Roland shook his head and sighed. Patience and trust, he had to work on those.
"What if we're spotted on our way there? Or what if they have more forces than we can handle?" Someone, Roland had no idea who, asked.
"It's unlikely we'll encounter any serious resistance for a simple supply run. If we do run into trouble, we'll withdraw immediately. If we cannot prevent them from getting those supplies, that's not a problem. Same thing if they spot us beforehand. The fact that we made a deliberate attempt to intercept their supplies will be enough. It will tell them that we know some of their plans, so the Retributors will have to be more careful in the future. Let me make this clear. We just have to show up and make some noise. That's enough. If we managed to destroy the transports, that's a nice bonus." Samuel replied. "Any other questions?" There were no further questions. "Excellent. Now, for the new guys. I know things appear bleak and this ain't the welcome you expected. I can't promise that things will get easier, this is the belt after all and we're up against a tough enemy. What I can promise you is I will not waste your lives. You're my people now. I demanded the best and I was given you. If you have any doubts, remember this. The Retributors already did their best to take you out. You held them off and they failed. Now you know what to expect. Now you know what you're dealing with. Now … now is the time to show them what they are dealing with. Let's make them regret their failure."
"Yes, sir." Roland, Rebecca and Azhar replied. A tiny smile settled on Roland's lips and he felt himself breathe a little easier. Sure, the situation was far from ideal, but they were working on it. They were making things better. One step at a time.
