When I promised a second chapter this month, I truly did expect to have it uploaded long before now. Again, I apologize for my lack of motivation. I hope against hope that the following is worth the wait.

Pointless Disclaimer: The AMV-haters at Bandai own Gundam, unworthy though they are. I look forward to the day I can wrest ownership from their hands, but until then, I own nothing.

/**/

The situation between the rogue vessels was not a pleasant one. Although there had been a tentative agreement between the ship commanders regarding mutual assistance in the effort to avoid detection by Zeon forces, divisions could not be pasted over so easily; indeed, before the group had even left Baldur Bay, Captain Hazen and Colonel M'Quve were at each other's throats about where the group should seek shelter next, an argument that was made worse by the fact that the captain was still angry about his Salamis being boarded by the colonel's forces outside of the neutral zone. Captain Char and Commander Bright had been more civil with one another, and had tried to mediate the argument to the best of their ability, but the end of the bickering came only with the presence of Lady Zenna, who Char brought to the bridge of his Zanzibar to force M'Quve to heel, at which time Hazen was left without a bickering partner and also had to settle down. Through the lady's interference, Char was able to suggest a face-to-face conference between the commanders, in which they would try to hammer out their differences while they arrived at a consensus regarding their next destination.

As wonderful as this idea was, everyone involved knew that it would take a great deal of care to avoid any serious trouble. It had been difficult enough to keep the commanders in line when their only weapons were verbal; how much more difficult would it be when the combatants stood within arm's reach of one another? Amuro, for one, had never been more pleased to be a mere pilot, rather than the commander of the White Base.

His relief evaporated when he learned that Char had asked for the pilots to accompany their commanders, so that they would get to know their new teammates and get over their own differences. Suddenly Amuro's opinion of being a pilot lessened considerably, knowing that the former Federation pilots aboard the White Base and the Argos would be outnumbered three-to-one by the former Zeon pilots under M'Quve's command. As much as he would have liked to protest, however, Amuro knew exactly what Char was afraid of, and agreed that the unpleasantness had to be dispensed with as soon as possible, before the mixed group actually saw battle. The pilots needed to trust one another, or they would all end up dead.

So as Bright Noa entered the launch on the White Base's hangar deck, Amuro brushed off his uniform nervously and followed him, with Hayato, Kai, and Sayla right behind him; the new pilot from the captured GM, Jenna Heidfeld, followed after a moment, keeping her distance from the rest and giving them precedence. The pilots took their seats as Fraw Bow's voice came over the intercom: "Airlock engaged. Hangar opening in five… four…"

The launch pilot closed the hatch before air began to escape from the hangar, as none of the officers on board were wearing normal suits. It was a calculated risk: Using the bulky suits would certainly be safer, in that there would be a chance of survival if any of the Zeon vessels opened fire on their launch during its journey to the Zanzibar, but it would also demonstrate to the Zeon officers and pilots that the White Base crew did not trust them, and would therefore cause more problems during the discussions. In the end, Commander Bright had decided that the precautions were unnecessary. The only ship in range to fire on the launch with any accuracy was the Zanzibar, after all, and Amuro had insisted already that Char could be trusted. That said, even Amuro was slightly nervous about putting all of his trust into the Zeon captain that had chased the White Base from Side 7 to Side 5, killing a good portion of the crew while he was at it.

His anxiety increased as the launch left the White Base hangar and made its way toward the Zanzibar. The distance was not far, in a relative sense, and Amuro could already feel the pressure of emotions emanating from the former Zeon ship; the scorn, the anger, and the loathing that the Zanzibar crew felt toward the newcomers. Emotions on the launch were just as oppressive, as Kai and Hayato reflected on their motives. Jenna, being new to the group, was radiating her worry so badly that Amuro wondered how any Newtype in Side 3 couldn't learn their location based on that beacon alone. The pilot was uncomfortable as it was, and joining former Zeon pilots on a former Zeon ship was making her mental state almost impossible to bear.

On the other hand, there was Sayla. Amuro was not surprised that she was the calmest person in the group, as the vessel they were approaching was commanded by her brother, and there was no doubt that the Zeon pilots they would be mingling with would be warned not to harm her. That said, though, Amuro had a feeling that the rivalries within the Zeon command structure might make Char's words less weighty among most of M'Quve's subordinates; moreover, the pilot figured that Char would have given much the same order regarding all of his guests, and to make a special mention of Sayla in particular would have both drawn more attention to her than would be prudent, and would also have indicated that he would have been less angry if any of the other former Federation pilots were harmed during the conference. Perhaps, Amuro wondered, Sayla did not have as much right to be calm as she thought she did.

"You're worrying too much."

Amuro blinked. Sayla, who was sitting next to him, had closed her eyes the moment that she sat down, and hadn't shown any indication that she knew what he was thinking. But she was more aware of his emotions than he had guessed. "You think so, huh?" Amuro asked, furrowing his brow. "I can't help but wonder just how many Zeon pilots are actually going to listen to Char, if he tells them not to try anything. They're not all loyal to him, you know."

"If there's any risk of dissention, he'll know it before we do," Sayla assured the boy, opening her eyes to face him. "He's more perceptive than ever. More manipulative, too. He was never like this before."

"Hiding your identity in the midst of an enemy will do that to a person," Amuro replied softly, so that Bright and the other pilots couldn't hear him. "He's had enough practice, after all this time."

Sayla nodded sadly. "He's changed so much," she murmured. "I can hardly recognize him anymore; and yet, when I look at him, I know his intentions as though we'd been together forever. Is our connection still that strong? Or is that what being a Newtype is?"

"I don't know," Amuro answered, shaking his head. "I'm as new to this as you are, remember."

Sayla scoffed. "Perhaps," she said, turning away. "But then again, you have that Lalah Sune to help you out."

Amuro winced. "Sayla…"

The woman turned back toward the other pilot, grinning. "Guilty conscience?" Amuro swallowed nervously, but Sayla's smirk only widened. "Never mind," she said easily, shaking her head. "I don't think Casval will give her up, anyway."

Amuro's face burned as he thought about that, before he finally managed to force the notion away and return to the topic at hand. "Perceptive or not, Char can't control everything that will happen. Even if his own men will follow his orders, M'Quve's men will probably just ignore them. Char has clout, but he's only one man, and he's not the most important commander in the group. M'Quve is."

"None of the minor Zeon officers will dare to disobey Dozle's widow, and Casval has her on his side—at least for now," Sayla answered. "Apparently M'Quve can get away with irritating her, but his men haven't had the opportunity to try yet, and it's doubtful that they'd want to anyway. She's a Zabi, or at least her daughter is; they need her acknowledgement if they ever want to be legitimate in the eyes of Side 3. They won't tick her off."

Amuro nodded. Although Kai and Hayato had yet to realize it, Bright, Amuro, and Sayla were well aware that agreeing to join a rogue Zeon group meant that the White Base was enlisting in a Zeon civil war, rather than a liberation movement for the benefit of the Earth Federation. Sayla was fine with that notion, as her heritage was Zeon. Bright had his reservations, but Amuro could tell that the commander would rather fight alongside M'Quve than allow Gihren to control the Earth Sphere. Amuro himself, though, couldn't be sure. M'Quve was a scheming bastard that had learned how to command from his mentor, Kycilia Zabi. Although Lady Zenna's acknowledgement would have been necessary to make his movement legitimate, there was no doubt that M'Quve would be the true ruler of Zeon—and therefore the Earth Sphere—if his movement toppled Gihren. And if that was the case, Amuro wondered how long it would be before the colonel decided to rid himself of any threats, such as his rival Char Aznable, or perhaps that former Federation ship that had given his precious Lady Kycilia so much trouble.

"Again, Amuro, you're worrying too much."

"Really, Sayla, I'm not sure you're worrying enough. Char can't protect you forever."

The woman scoffed. "He doesn't need to protect me as long as Zeon doesn't know I exist. Anyone with any interest in hurting me will be far more interested in hurting him first, and more than likely he'll destroy them before they get the chance. There's no one out there that will hurt me as long as he's there to keep their attention."

Amuro stared. "Sayla, are you sure you're not as manipulative as he is?"

The woman shook her head sadly. "Don't worry, Amuro. It was his idea, not mine."

/**/

Zeon.

Jenna had heard the word, read the word, said the word, hated the word; but this was the first time that she had actually seen the word, embodied in everything that surrounded her. Zeon. Everywhere she looked, it stared at her. The floor of the Zanzibar's lounge, the room in which the pilots of the various vessels congregated, was clearly made to standards different than those of the Federation's shipyards; the walls were covered in paint that had never coated a Federation ship; the furniture, bolted to the floor for those who felt the need for a solid presence at their back instead of floating in the zero-gravity environment, was foreign to Federation eyes. There was no mistaking that this was not a Federation vessel. This was Zeon.

But it was more than the floor, the walls, and the furniture. The most obvious proclamation of "Zeon-ness" was, without a doubt, the Zeon pilots themselves. Their accents were obvious, even to the untrained ear; though Jenna had heard strange Spacenoid accents while on board the Rio Grande, she had never heard this one. The uniforms were completely alien to her; she had seen propaganda films and reenactments that had featured mockups, but she had never really laid eyes on the green suits, brown gloves and boots, and black-and-gold capes of Zeon officers. The scorn of a Spacenoid being laid upon her Earth-born shoulders; this she had suffered mildly on board the Rio Grande, but never quite like this, when every glance showered her with a slight. It was a terrifying experience…

…and it had only been a moment. The conference hadn't even begun.

The guide that had brought them to the pilots' lounge retreated into the corridor outside the room once more, leaving the White Base crew to their fate at the hands of their hosts. Jenna floated silently, not daring to move as she took in her surroundings, trying not to be overwhelmed. The others, though, were not willing to wait for her to reclaim her bearings. Sayla went forward first, her eyes narrowed as she floated toward the Zeon pilot that seemed to be wearing the biggest eagle on his cape. Amuro didn't move initially, and instead waited by the door, letting his gaze rove through the room as though he were searching for something; evidently he found it, as he suddenly pushed off from the wall and floated in the direction of a young woman whose brown uniform and tiny eagle made her out to be one of the least important Zeon pilots in the room. Kai and Hayato, like Jenna, seemed far more reluctant to begin mixing with soldiers that they had been trying to kill only weeks before, but eventually even they decided to move forward, keeping together for some semblance of comfort, but still allowing themselves to be swallowed up by the Zeon throng. Jenna, then, was left on her own.

Floating against the wall as though she were simply bored, rather than panicked, Jenna told herself that she would only have to wait until the Argos's pilots arrived before she'd have company again. Unlike the White Base pilots, half of whom seemed to have a familiarity with Zeon that was itself disturbing to Jenna, the woman felt sure that anyone that served under someone like Captain Hazen would be about as willing to fraternize with the enemy as she was. She steeled herself, then, and hoped that her relief would come sooner rather than later.

She never had the chance to greet them, though. Before two minutes had gone by, a smug-looking Zeon officer had spotted her, and Jenna clenched her teeth as he approached. His grin grew as her discomfort intensified, and she forced herself not to fidget as the man finally came within arm's length of her. "So your friends have gone off and left you all alone, have they?" he sneered, letting his eyes rove over her.

Jenna glared at him, hoping that her fear wasn't too obvious in her eyes. The man reacted with a scoff. "Oh, have I offended the little lady? Perhaps she thinks she doesn't need friends to keep her safe from the big, mean Zeon." He leaned forward, putting his face within an inch of hers. "You're wrong, girl."

Jenna quickly leaned back to bring her face away from the man's, and not only managed to unbalance herself into an awkward spin, but hit the back of her head against the wall for her trouble. As she fought to regain her balance, the Zeon officer laughed aloud, drawing the attention of the room to her plight. "Earth-born idiot, still fresh from gravity's well. You don't know the first thing about fighting up here; either you'll be the first one to go, or your mistake will take one of us with you." Turning away contemptuously, he added, "And if you let one of my men die, I'm taking you out myself."

"Gruder, keep yourself in check!" snapped another officer; finally righting herself, Jenna saw that it was the man Sayla had gone to speak with. "These are our guests! Did you learn this kind of hospitality on board the Drumel?"

"Oh, my apologies, Lieutenant," the man called Gruder grumbled with a grin, clearly unimpressed with his fellow officer's rebuke. "I was just teaching the newbie the ropes."

"Then you'd best lead by example when it comes to discipline," growled the lieutenant. "Any more trouble, and I will not hesitate to send you to the brig—and Commander Wurder be damned if he complains about it."

Gruder saluted nonchalantly. "Absolutely, sir," he said easily, floating off into the crowd while Jenna looked on after him in shock.

Her attention was quickly retaken by the lieutenant as he floated up to her, laying a hand on her shoulder; he pretended not to notice it stiffen under his grasp. "My apologies, Ensign," he said, his expression serious. "Lieutenant Gruder has lost several men over these past few months; Gihren's forces took two of them in Granada only a few days ago. I'm not excusing him, but he has his reasons." The man's eyes hardened. "He also happens to be a good judge of character. How long have you been in uniform?"

Jenna straightened, trying her hardest to hide her inexperience. "I began training six months ago, sir."

The man scoffed. "Sounds like the rookies we've been dealing with in the homeland. Have you ever seen combat?"

"Solomon, sir."

The lieutenant's brow rose. "You survived that hell, did you? Tell me how you did it."

Jenna stared into the man's eyes firmly, but as his frown deepened at her silence she had no choice but to admit, "I have no idea, sir."

"How many enemies have you shot down?"

"None, sir."

"Just like our rookies," the man said again. Taking his hand from Jenna's shoulder, he allowed himself to float back a little as he thought. "Any other action?"

"No, sir. Just a sortie; it didn't come to much."

"We captured her, sir!" came Kai's voice helpfully from the back of the room; Jenna's face paled in mortification.

The lieutenant glanced back at the throng, no doubt trying to pick Kai out from the crowd, but since he couldn't know which Federation pilot had spoken, he eventually turned back to Jenna again. "It sounds like you've got nothing to say for yourself."

The young woman gritted her teeth. "No, sir, I don't."

The lieutenant turned away again. "So, are the rest of you Feddies this inexperienced?"

Sayla bristled. "I already told you what we were capable of," she growled, but the lieutenant waved her words away.

"I want to hear it from them."

Hayato spoke up first. "We've been fighting for the last three-and-a-half months. Char chased us out of Side 7, into Luna II, down to Earth, and all the way across North America and Europe. He attacked us at Jaburo and chased us into orbit again—well, you're one of this ship's pilots, aren't you? You know what happened after that as well as anyone."

"So you know how to fight Captain Char," the lieutenant said. "What else?"

There was a silence, as though the White Base pilots had thought that fighting Char Aznable—the Char Aznable, of all people—would be enough credibility; truthfully, Jenna would have been impressed with half of Hayato's report. Then Kai's voice came up again. "We took out Ramba Ral and some aces in Doms, too. And we were in Operation Odessa."

"No wonder Colonel M'Quve doesn't like you," commented the Zeon lieutenant. Turning to Amuro, he said, "You've been quiet. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The boy eyed the man steadily. "Would you be happy to know that I took out Solomon's mobile armor, sir?"

The lieutenant's eyes narrowed as the room hushed at this news. "You'd best keep that to yourself, boy, if you want peace on this ship. Vice Admiral Dozle himself was piloting that armor, and we have his widow on board."

Amuro nodded. "I know."

Glancing back at Jenna, the Zeon officer asked, "And this little one… You captured her, you say?"

Jenna glared as Kai spoke up again. "They sent out five suits to intercept us when we left the fleet. We got one for ourselves and left the rest behind."

The lieutenant's eyes flicked from one Federation pilot to another, eventually landing on all of them at one point or another. Finally he said, "You have quite the track record. There's no doubt that I'd trust you in battle. But I wonder about this one." He gave Jenna another sharp glance. "Gruder's an ass, but he's right. If you flew with us, you'd be nothing but a risk. You may not be fresh off the planet, but you're too close for comfort; you still don't know a damn thing about keeping yourself upright in zero-g. In battle, that will kill you." Turning back to the others, he demanded, "Why haven't you taught her anything? You trust her the way she is?"

Kai shrugged. "We'll take any help we can get. She offered, and we needed another pilot for the suit we caught her in, so we agreed."

"What good will that do you when she's blown apart in the first minute of her first sortie?" the lieutenant demanded. "At that point, not only are you back where you started, but someone's dead to show for it."

"What else would you want us to do?" Hayato growled. "Tell her no? How would that have helped us?"

"You idiot," snarled the lieutenant. "Why the hell weren't you training her from the minute you agreed to bring her in?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Sayla asked, her voice failing to mask her hesitation, "Train her?"

"What else do you do with new pilots?" The man looked as though he wanted to hit someone. "What planet do you come from? How in the name of God did you get through your military exams?"

Amuro scoffed. "What exams? We were dragged out of our homes and thrown into combat when Char blew up half of Side 7. They don't give you exams for that, unless blowing up Zakus counts."

The lieutenant stared at him, speechless. At length he said, "You mean to tell me that you're not even military?"

"According to the Federation, we are now," clarified Sayla. "They did the formal presentation of orders when we reached Jaburo. But as for the training and exams, there was none of that."

The Zeon pilots as a whole were not happy to hear this, and the murmuring began in earnest after Sayla's words. The lieutenant glared at her for a moment, before saying, "The fact remains that you survived; for that reason alone, I'll have to trust in your abilities in combat. But clearly you lack sound decision-making skills. More importantly, as far as I'm concerned, you don't have the skills necessary to bring this one"—he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Jenna—"up to speed. If she stays with you, she'll be dead after a single battle, and she might take some of us with her."

Jenna's teeth, already clenched, threatened to crack. "I have had the proper training in the operation of my suit. There is no threat of—"

"Clearly, then, Federation standards are as lax as Zeon's have gotten to be," the lieutenant interrupted, turning back to her. "Do you need me to tell you what happened to most of the rookies who came out of Zeon's academies within the last three months? They got slaughtered—at Solomon, for the most part, but there were enough skirmishes before that nightmare that there were ample chances to find a grave much sooner. Believe me, girl, you don't want to fly with the training you have under your belt."

Jenna glared still, but she knew that what he said was true. Luck, after all, had saved her so far; it would not stay with her forever. "What exactly would you have me do?" she growled.

The reaction to this question shocked all of the Federation pilots: The lieutenant suddenly grinned and said, "I want you to transfer to the Zanzibar under my command."

Jenna stared. "W-wait, what?" she stuttered, not sure that she heard him correctly.

"As long as you don't know what you're doing, you're a danger to this entire group," continued the lieutenant, crossing his arms as he gazed steadily at the Federation ensign. "You need to be in a group of veterans—or rather, trained veterans, in order for us to teach you exactly what it is that's kept us alive. The pilots on your Trojan Horse are good, but they learned from experience, and won't be able to teach you in any way other than by throwing you in the middle of a battle. When all they had to fight were Zakus, their equipment let them live long enough to learn. You, on the other hand, are going to be fighting Rick Doms and Gelgoogs with the Federation's mass-produced suit. It's a good suit, and it makes Zakus look like your Type-61 tanks, but it can't compare with some of the high-end equipment that Zeonic and Zimmand have put out lately unless it has a pilot that can use it effectively. Right now, you are not that pilot." The lieutenant looked into Jenna's eyes unblinkingly. "Do you want to become that pilot?"

The woman glared at her tormenter, trying to mask her conflicting emotions. She had agreed, after all, to help the White Base fight Zeon; now she was being asked to abandon the White Base in favor of serving aboard a Zeon ship. And yet, the lieutenant had already made it clear that there would be no agreement between the Zeon and Federation pilots for as long as she was—as far as he was concerned—untrained. "Do you promise that, if I agree to this, you will allow me to pilot my suit in combat?"

The lieutenant shrugged. "That depends on your progress. If you learn everything I teach you, you'll fly."

Jenna's glare intensified, especially as she realized that her unwillingness to fraternize with Zeon pilots for a few hours had just forced her to accept being stuck on a Zeon ship for an indefinite period of time. "Then I don't have a choice, do I, sir?"

The man nodded curtly. "I'll have Captain Char discuss this with your commander as soon as possible. Expect to be back on board the Zanzibar within two days, with your mobile suit." The lieutenant was about to say more, but just then the door to the lounge opened again, admitting the Zeon guide and several more Federation pilots that Jenna had never met before. The lieutenant's attention turned toward them. "Welcome, gentlemen. Will I have to teach you how to be pilots, too?"

/**/

Behind his mask, Char closed his eyes and wondered what had possessed him to suggest this meeting. The former Federation captain, Hazen, had so far refrained from yelling at M'Quve again, but not because he hadn't wanted to: The colonel was being as offensive as ever. The captain was being more careful this time around, though, because he was surrounded by six commanders in Zeon uniforms, and only one of them was in any way willing to take his side over M'Quve's. So far, then, Hazen had kept his voice low; he was growling, but he had managed to remain civil, and Char felt that he had scored points with the Zeon commanders around him for that alone. Unfortunately, he had yet to score points with M'Quve himself—and since M'Quve was the senior officer of the group, Hazen's patience was winning him no concessions.

"Why is this such a difficult decision?" Hazen was saying at this point. "We can't go back to Side 6, since Gihren's spies have probably already reported us. The shoals at Side 2 are so close to Side 6 that any team sent to investigate our visit there would almost certainly look right next door as a matter of course. We can't hide in the shoals at Side 1 or Side 4 because they're too close to Solomon. There's no place to hide at Side 7; there's not even anything there anymore, thanks to that last colony drop, and beyond that it's right next to Luna II. And if you want to hide in Zeon itself, be my guest, but I don't see that working out at all. Where else can we go but Side 5?"

"Side 5 is an option—" began Commander Bright, managing to get in a word before M'Quve could reply; the colonel didn't care, though, and spoke anyway.

"Anyone could tell you that Side 5 is right out. My group already hid there once; we can't risk it again. More importantly, there's nothing of benefit to be found there. It's not like we have the facilities to turn that rubble into something useful."

"Useful? We're looking for a hiding place, not a factory!" The captain's voice was still low, but the growl was intensifying. "What do you think you could do anywhere else?"

M'Quve looked at the captain smugly. "I've already told you. Moving our base of operations to L5 would allow us to keep an eye on Solomon's trading routes with the homeland—"

"And I've already told you that basing a pirate operation that close to a major fortress is going to get us killed a lot sooner than anything else will."

"Would you have us conjure supplies out of thin air instead?" snapped Commander Wurder, the commander of the Musai-class Drumel. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but most of our ships are so battered that their continued operation is almost a miracle. Even without that worry, our food supplies are running out, and I'm not sure that your pantries are in any better condition than ours."

Char opened his eyes. "We can easily disrupt Solomon's supply lines from the homeland by attacking its transport fleets, but I'm not sure that we can supply ourselves at the same time. Most likely, we would only be able to destroy the transports. It wouldn't be worth the lives we'd lose in battle."

M'Quve glared at the captain. "So we'll let ourselves starve instead?"

"We'd most likely starve anyway," repeated Char. "I agree completely that we need more resources, but I don't agree that attacking transports is the way to go about getting them. We need to do something more subtle, I think."

"There is a time for subtlety, and there is a time for action," M'Quve said, waving Char's suggestion away. "You can scheme all you want, but unless you have the resources to put that scheme into action, you will gain nothing from it. Wait until we have those resources before you—"

"Sir, we have the resources to do what I suggest."

M'Quve's eyes narrowed, but before he could say a word, Lady Zenna spoke up. "Tell us, Captain Char. I want to hear something new."

Char nodded toward the lady. "We have enough supplies to survive for another week at the least without taking action, and that's if we're wasteful. My plan is to use a portion of that week to monitor the civilian shuttle routes into and out of Zeon. We can corner one or more shuttles and take the crews prisoner; then we'll fill the shuttle with our men and send it on its way. By taking the identities of the passengers and crew, we will have put our best men into the heart of Zeon, where they can obtain both supplies and information on others' credit. If they return through chartering another shuttle into our sector of space, we will be able to continue this cycle without much trouble."

M'Quve glared. "Do you imagine that we have the manpower to send who-knows-how-many people away for your little plan? There's no guarantee that we'll ever see any of those men again—"

"There are plenty of guarantees, Colonel. I don't mean to send low-level mechanics, but rather our most trusted officers." Char ignored the murmurs of the other commanders. "Those most loyal to Her Excellency would not be tempted to flee her last remaining corps in favor of living under the rule of her murderer. Moreover, only our officers have the knowledge of military intricacies that will allow them to be effective spies during their time in Zeon. As much as we will feel the loss of our best men here, the knowledge they can gain for us will be invaluable."

Clearly M'Quve wanted to say something, but for once one of his commanders beat him to it. "This is a good plan, Char," began Captain Orson, the commander of the Musai-class Limel. "But the ability of our officers to obtain anything for us, either information or supplies, will depend solely on the identities of those that we find in the shuttle, correct?"

Char frowned. "That is true, to some extent. I will not pretend that this is not a gamble, of sorts. But at the same time, there is far less risk in this plan than there is in any attack against military transports. We cannot afford to lose any of our ships or mobile suits; we have too few as it is. Moreover, after a single raid, the shipping routes will no doubt change; if we cannot gain enough to tide us over until we learn the new routes, we will starve anyway."

"Captain Char," began the White Base's commander, "where do former Federation officers fit into this plan? None of us have the knowledge to survive in Zeon without standing out; we'd never be able to help you."

Char nodded. "There is that," he said. "But there are other ways of splitting the effort. This plan will leave our Zeon ships understaffed, to an extent; Federation officers will have to fill the gap."

"What?" All of M'Quve's commanders and Captain Hazen immediately broke into furious rejections of Char's idea, and the man rolled his eyes behind his mask before M'Quve took his attention once again. "Captain, as much as these people are our allies, neither our people nor theirs will accept such an arrangement! We will never be able to work together!"

"Which is the reason that we're having trouble as it is," Char replied. "We can't work together now; we have to change that. As long as we aren't actually in combat, we should take the opportunity to teach our crews how to interact. Either we do this now, or we'll die when the situation requires cooperation that won't come."

"I agree," added Commander Bright, who immediately paled when the attention of the other commanders suddenly fell on him. Steeling himself, he continued, "The White Base has survived on its own for a very long time. My crew has only interacted with others during resupply or, in a single case, battle—that was Solomon. Even if this were a group of Federation ships, the White Base would be completely out of its depth." Turning toward Colonel M'Quve, the commander said, "I suggest that we organize training maneuvers during the time of Captain Char's operation."

M'Quve's expression hardened. "None of us have even agreed to the captain's proposal yet—" he began, but Lady Zenna interrupted him.

"Based on what you've just said, Commander, I agree with the need for maneuvers. And I think your reasoning is clear. If we organize them as we are now, tensions are high enough to bring about disaster. The only means by which we can be sure that we don't actually start shooting at each other is to exchange crewmembers; we won't shoot at our own, I hope." Zenna glanced at M'Quve. "Whether or not you agree to Captain Char's operation, the need to exchange crew is unavoidable. We'd best start sooner, rather than later."

The colonel stared at Lady Zenna, before turning his eyes to each commander in turn. Sighing, he asked the room at large, "How many of you could persuade some of your men to transfer to a Federation ship?"

"I would be more interested in how many Federation people would be willing to serve on my ship, not the other way around," Commander Wurder grumbled. "There are six Zeon ships, and only two from the Federation. Very few of my people will move; on the other hand, Captain Hazen will be practically dragging his men to the airlock to send them to us."

Hazen scowled. "If you speak from experience, Commander, your men clearly have no notion of discipline. My men follow orders."

Wurder only grinned at the comeback. "I hope so, since some of them will be following mine."

"So we agree to follow this course of action?" Char asked. As M'Quve's glare shot his way again, the captain added, "I mean the maneuvers, not the spying operation."

Captain Hazen sighed. "I don't have a choice, do I?" he growled.

Commander Wurder nodded. "I'll send some of my boys along, as long as they're replaced."

Captain Serak, of the Zanzibar-class Good Hope, shrugged. "If Lady Zenna agrees, I will abide." Lady Zenna nodded in thanks to the captain as Char turned to Captain Orson.

"I have no problem with this idea in theory, but I don't want any trouble with the newcomers."

"You won't have any problems with my bridge crew," Bright replied. "They won't be happy, but they'll understand the necessity." Turning to Char, he added, "I support this plan."

"Then I might as well jump on the bandwagon," muttered Commander Peretz of the Musai-class Zumel, who had been characteristically disinclined to speak throughout the meeting. Now he shrugged. "As long as we aren't shooting at each other, this might actually be fun."

M'Quve sighed. "Then I have nothing more to say about it, other than that we'll need to agree on how many people we want to trade, which ships they'll be stationed on, and when we'll get them back. I know for a fact that—"

Lady Zenna interrupted the colonel. "Those numbers will depend entirely on whether or not we've agreed to send some of our people into Zeon. Let's get that over with before we make any promises."

M'Quve clenched his teeth, but gave in. "As we have already agreed to one of the captain's proposals, there seems to be little reason to throw this one out, either. Will we do this, also?"

The colonel's commanders were mostly frowning at this point, and Char tried to control his frustration as Captain Serak replied, "I'm not so sure. Captain Char, you bring up a lot of good ideas, but in practice they could lead to trouble. Our people will have enough difficulty adjusting to Federation personnel amongst them, but if you remove the officers that are meant to keep them in line we'll have a mutiny."

Commander Wurder nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry to have to say this, Captain Char, but I completely agree. We can do one or the other, but I don't think we can do both at the same time."

"What would you prefer then? To go understaffed for an indefinite period of time, or to starve while your ship falls apart around you?" The two officers glared, but Char crossed his arms and said, "We need to be resupplied, and we need to operate as a cohesive whole. There is no 'either/or' option, gentlemen. Our current situation will not hold long enough for us to fix one problem at a time; we must do all, or we might as well do nothing."

This assessment only intensified the glares, but eventually Captain Orson grumbled, "There's no other way of resupplying at this point. I'll see how many officers I can spare."

Char nodded at him in thanks, and repeated the gesture when Commander Peretz said, "I don't anticipate problems with my men, so I'll do it too. But I expect that my visitors will be on their best behavior."

Hazen glared at the commander, but Bright replied, "Everyone from the White Base is aware of what our cooperation means. They won't let old rivalries get in the way of their survival."

"I'm glad to hear it," Lady Zenna told the former Federation commander. Glancing at the rest of the group, she asked, "Who is not willing to go along with this operation?"

M'Quve looked around before saying with slight irritation, "It looks as though I'm the only one that has objections to this plan. The Hummel will go along with it, then, but I don't dare to send out as many officers as you seem to want me to, Captain Char."

"That's fine," answered Char. "I'm sure the Zanzibar can take up the slack."

"If the shuttle we capture doesn't have that many people in it, this won't need to be troublesome at all," added Captain Orson with a hopeful note to his voice.

Lady Zenna nodded. "True," she said, "but that also means that we will have fewer eyes and ears in the heart of Zeon."

/**/

The supreme commander of Zeon—and soon-to-be sovereign—should not have been frowning. He had won a war only days before; he had subdued his political rivals both within and without his own family; he had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, and had the world to show for it. The Earth Sphere was his plaything.

And yet, as Gihren Zabi closed down the communication channel he had opened with Luna II to speak with Admiral Delaz, his expression fell once again into irritation and preoccupation. The reason he had spoken with Delaz, and with Admiral Karn before him, was simple: There was no more urgent need for the information regarding Project V. Certainly his arms manufacturers would appreciate it—at least Zeonic would, since it was doubtful that the other two were in the running for any sort of arms contract—but personally, Gihren had no more interest in the Trojan Horse than he had in the legend that lent the ship its nickname. He had wanted to find the ship for the purpose of laying bait, but that plan was foiled. His spies in Side 6 had just reported the news he had hoped not to hear: Char Aznable had found the Trojan Horse, and the two had left the colony cluster in cooperation with one another.

The report saw the end of Gihren's hunt, but it also gave him another reason to think. It alleged that Char was not acting unilaterally; he had, in fact, joined with another of Kycilia's most trusted subordinates, Colonel M'Quve, who had once been in charge of the mining operation in Odessa. Gihren had no idea what fighting strength M'Quve had with him, but he knew for a fact that someone of that man's rank would not be wandering space without a sizeable escort. Moreover, Gihren knew the man's deviousness already, having been briefed on the extent of the Odessa mining facilities by his intelligence bureau after the Federation's surrender—the figures he was told far exceeded those that M'Quve had claimed during his time in charge of the place, and Gihren grudgingly admired how well the colonel had hidden his activities from the rest of Zeon. M'Quve's position as a trusted aide to Kycilia also meant that he held a great deal of sway over any Zeon troops still loyal to her memory, in Granada or even in Side 3. Char might not have been able to bring such people to his side alone, but with M'Quve he had a far greater chance of increasing his military capabilities.

A purge was in order, but Gihren didn't want to test his popularity so soon; he knew that the populace was still sore over losing their original sovereign under suspiciously unexplained circumstances, and were wary of a ruler that would kill his own sister, for whatever reason. On a later date, then, he would drag Zeon into domestic chaos, but not now when he had yet to even sit on the throne that was rightfully his. For the moment, he had a civil war to prepare for.

"Cecilia," he began, keeping his eyes forward as he pondered his next move. "Schedule a meeting with the war ministry for tomorrow. I want to know how soon we can have anti-insurgency strategies in place with our current forces."

The secretary bowed, although her employer didn't see her. "Absolutely, Your Excellency."