Rauld all but pretended to be invisible as he floated in the corner of Lt. Sealer's office. The other two subordinate officers were in a half-standing position, their feet tucked under loops coming out of the floor. They were going over issues they were anticipating when they entered their new theatre of war.

"It's going to be tough," Lt. Sealer said as he showed them the section of the asteroid field their void wing would be required to search. "It's not clear if we're actually going to be the ones going in there but the Boss says to be prepared to do so if we have to. The question is, how do we prepare our people to actually go in there and survive more than five minutes?"

"It won't be easy," Lieutenant Junior Grade, Flemmer said as he stared at his own data pad. He was the Squadron's XO, in command of Baker Flight, and was generally in charge of training. "Even if our people are skilled enough there's no way we'll be able to avoid everything. We aren't even sure if the Balls can survive in an asteroid field."

"I'm sure they can," Ensign "Grinner" Hardli said, his implacable smile clashing severely with Sealer's cold, businesslike tone. "The Balls are inspired by mods made by pirates. If they can survive in that, I don't see why ours shouldn't be."

"That we don't know for sure, is the problem," Sealer countered. "We don't know what mods they chose or if their hulls were made for this kind of thing."

"I think we could manage it if we have to, Sir," Flemmer offered. "As long as we don't move fast, there shouldn't be a problem. The view ports are thick and small. It should be enough to keep us safe."

"All the same, I'd like to come up with ideas of what we can do if someone's Ball is breached. That's a lot deadlier in an asteroid field than in planetary space. Now, what's next?"

Flemmer looked at his data pad. "Boss wants us to be able to launch quickly and as a squadron. Says it's the only way their plan for ambushing the pirates will work to its fullest. The captain did suggest decelerating the ship as we launch to help us get out cleaner."

Sealer scowled and stared down at his desk. "Another sign he's never worked with Ball squadrons before. Our pilots don't have the training to pull that off without some practice. If they did they'd be fighter pilots."

"We haven't even got any proper simulators," Flemmer said sourly. "At least back at Gibraltar we had that."

"It's not so bad," Grinner insisted. "When the plan happens, they'll be too scared of the mobile suits to think about us. I think as long as we can manage to get out of the hangar without crashing into something or someone, it'll work out just fine. I don't think the Boss or Captain expect miracles from us."

Sealer gave Grinner an annoyed look, as if his positivity was an unwelcome irritant.

Rauld was inclined to agree with Grinner. He doubted they would have picked any fool to command a ship or void wing involving the Federation's prototype mobile suits; they had to know what they were doing. And that brought another issue to his mind.

"Speaking of mobile suits, does anyone know what ours even look like?"

Sealer gave him a black look, as if he had disobeyed a direct order by speaking. Before he could tell him to shut up, Rauld went on.

"It wouldn't be good for our people to not know what they looked like. In the heat of battle, they'll be going off instinct as much as anything, and they probably have it wired into their heads that anything that looks like a mobile suit should be automatically shot. That could lead to friendly fire."

Sealer's lips curled back in a snarl. "They should have thought of that before they decided to be so damn secretive about it. If one of them gets shot because of their arrogance, how's that our fault?"

"We should at least bring it up–."

"You think I haven't thought of that? If I thought they'd listen I'd have told them a whole bunch of things, like how their high and mighty attitude affects the morale of our people, how their cursed special treatment makes us feel like dirt, and how we have to spend long shifts running combat patrols because their pampered funnels can't be bothered to do any real work! The answer is no! Now sit and shut up until I get to dismiss you."

Rauld tried not to pout like a child as he settled back into his corner, acid churning deep in his belly, his ink sac like boiling swamp water. He hadn't met anyone from the mobile suit squadron since that day. He hadn't even seen Hypori or her two companions. Still, he couldn't imagine her acting so arrogantly or looking down at them, at least not beyond the usual inter-unit banter. She'd been so cheerful and friendly to them. Mouse seemed to not like them, for whatever reason, but Tank hadn't had any issues, and Sunni was indifferent to everything.

"You know," Grinner suggested, "Million there might be the right person to ask about that kind of stuff. He's grown up around arrogant groshgotts so he should be able to worm his way to some kind of result if anyone can. Besides, if they're like that and somebody blows one of 'em up, the operation might get compromised and they'll fall down on us."

Had Grinner paused, even for just a moment, Rauld was sure Sealer would have yelled at him to shut up too, but with his peace said, he managed to look somewhat thoughtful about the suggestion.

"Fine," he growled. "Since he's the only one who speaks snob, I'm sure if anyone can get through to them it's him, even if he is just a lowly Ball pilot."

Rauld clenched his beak and responded with a tight, "yes, Sir." He didn't speak again until their meeting was over.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You must be feeling gutsy today," Grinner said as he and Rauld floated down the corridor.

"Huh?"

He laughed. "You actually dared to make a suggestion to our commander. Usually you just sit quietly in your corner until he remembers you're there and then ends the meeting."

Rauld huffed. "I don't want to be held responsible for one of us shooting down a priceless prototype. Honestly, I don't know why he's being so hostile to them. It's like he sees them as extensions of me."

Grinner flashed green. "Sure seems like it doesn't it. You ever talk to the mobile suit pilots? 'Cause I haven't."

"Once, briefly. One of them was even a former Ball pilot with the…" He searched his memory. "The 33rd, I think."

"That's a surprise. Sure they weren't just messing with you?"

"No, she seemed too knowledgeable. Regardless of what the others are like, I think if I can talk to her, I can get through to them. Whether it amounts to anything…" He sighed. "Well, it's not like Sealer can get any more inked off at me."

"Don't underestimate him," Grinner said wryly. "That guy holds a grudge as hard as anyone I've ever seen. Whatever happens, if it makes our odds better, I'm all for it."

"I'll see what I can do. I only hope their commander is more flexible. Then again, it might not be up to them. For all we know, they're following orders when it comes to all this secrecy."

"Probably are, but that's not going to help you with Sealer. Heck, he might be even madder that you succeeded."

Rauld groaned. "Thanks for that. Can always count on you to look at the bright side."

He laughed. "That's what I'm here for."

Rauld found himself smiling just a little. It was hard to be too upset with one of the few people in his life at the moment that didn't seem to hate him.

Half an hour after their meeting had ended, Rauld was navigating through a part of the ship he had never been to before. It wasn't off limits, but it was generally frowned upon to be wandering around the ship if you didn't need to be there.

The truth was that Rauld wasn't sure what else to do. Sections of the ship frequented by the mobile suit pilots were off limits and he wondered how much that had to do with the rumours of the Squid Sisters being on the ship rather than the security measures to keep the mobile suits safe from prying eyes. All he could think of to do was wander around and hope he bumped into someone from the mobile suit unit.

As he wandered towards the observation deck for the third time, he heard a familiar voice. It was Hypori's! Excited to have achieved results at last, he moved faster, almost slamming into the wall at the other end before he found his way onto the observation deck.

The ruckus he created drew the attention of all three people on the deck, clad in their different flight suits and staring at him.

Hypori tilted her head. It was his first time seeing her without her pilot suit. Without the helmet glass, he could better see the orange in her eyes and the gentle roundness of her facial features. Her flight suit was identical to his own, but her two companions differed greatly, wearing flight suits from the Marines and Army respectively. What was an Army pilot doing on a CSF carrier?

"Rauld?"

Rauld pushed his questions aside for now, desperate to not waste this opportunity.

"I need to talk to you. Or, I guess anyone from your unit. There's a problem."

Hypori put her hands up in front of her and turned her mantle a medium red. "Whoa, whoa, settle down, we aren't even out of the current yet. Can't be that big a deal."

"It will be if we don't fix it," he insisted. Still, he took a moment to catch his breath and slow down before he continued.

"I don't know if you realize this, but we don't know what your mobile suits even look like. We're worried that, in the heat of battle, we might accidentally shoot you. We're not exactly used to having mobile suits on our side."

Hypori gave him a look that was part confusion part alarm. "They haven't even showed you a picture or even a diagram or something?"

"Nothing. Our CO said he tried to ask about stuff like that but you brushed him off."

Hypori's round face scrunched up in a deep frown. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would any of us brush him off for something simple like that? You sure you heard him right?"

Rauld reconsidered. "Well, maybe he didn't say that exactly, he just said that talking with you seemed impossible."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Scar floated above Hypori, a taller girl with hard, predatory features and fiery eyes.

"I'm not sure," he lied. He was all too well aware of the things Sealer might do to him if he got him in hot water. "Maybe he feels intimidated by an elite unit? Anyway, that doesn't matter, I just need to get the message across that we're trying to avoid any friendly fire incidents and I don't –, I mean, we don't think our first fight together is the best time to learn what you look like or how you operate."

The three other pilots looked at him for several long, silent seconds. He could feel their gazes reading him, searching for chinks in his armour, trying to gauge how much they could trust his words.

It ended when Hypori flashed grey and said, "I'll pass it on to Major Rancher. That's all I can really promise."

Rauld felt relieved. But the reduction of that burden brought questions up from the back of his mind to the fore, ones he'd been saving since he saw them last. Nothing wrong with asking while he was there, right? He just had to be casual about it.

"So… are you all flight commanders too?"

Hypori laughed. "Well, I was a flight commander back in the 33rd, but I'm just a normal pilot now."

"Abnormal," Tog amended.

Hypori turned and looked at him, hands on her hips. "You aren't exactly off the shelf either. In fact, I'd say I'm more normal than either of you."

Scar arched an eyebrow at her and turned her mantle yellow. "How?"

"Because I'm so normal, I'm the only one without a call sign yet. I'm painfully average."

"Well that's half right," Scar quipped.

Tog pointed a finger at her and simply said, "pinball," eliciting an embarrassed flush from her.

Rauld felt more than a little surprised by their banter. It was obviously non-hostile in nature, and even with this little exposure he could tell that the three seemed fairly close as comrades. They would probably look like slackers to Sealer, people who'd gotten where they were purely through luck or who they knew rather than earning their way there.

"Rauld?"

Hypori had turned around and was looking at him with concern. "You okay?"

Flushing a little at the back of his neck, Rauld shook himself. "No – I mean yes, just thinking, you seem a lot closer than members of my squadron are."

"That so?" Hypori pulsed grey. "Well, these two drive me crazy sometimes, but we've been through a lot together. It's hard to hate people you trust with your life."

"I guess we're just special then," Rauld said glumly. "Most of the squadron hates my guts, and my CO seems to have made it his mission in life to make my life miserable just because I hatched with different family circumstances."

"You're being bullied?"

Rauld grimaced. That sounded so childish when she put it that way, but how else would he describe it. Still, it might not be a bad idea to play on their sympathies if it benefited him.

"More like he just has a personal hatred for me, but he hates the other members of my flight too. He put all the misfits in with me when they organized the squadron."

"Bunch of strong personalities eh?" Hypori giggled. "Sounds like a ball of fun alright."

"I don't know how your CO could stand it without trying to do something about it," Scar countered.

Rauld huffed. "He probably expected most of us to be dead before it became a problem. Maybe you weren't told how low our life expectancy is."

Scar flashed red. "I figured it couldn't be much worse than the fighter squadrons. That's one of the reasons our job is so important."

"But we're treated like trash, disposable by the CSF. We're all pilots who couldn't get into the fighter squadrons because we weren't considered good enough. So we're made into meat shields for the real valuable assets."

Tog turned his mantle maroon and looked at him almost contemptuously. "Same as infantry. Feel like grains of sand. Not true though. Jobs only infantry can do."

Rauld just stared, not sure what he was supposed to get from all that broken speech.

"Exactly," Scar said, apparently understanding everything. "We're all just cogs in the machine. It doesn't work right if we're not all there. Just that some cogs are more… specialized than others, I guess. Hypori was one of you, now she's one of us."

"No excuses," Tog agreed.

Hypori reached over and patted Rauld on the head. "In other words, quit feeling sorry for yourselves about not feeling special and try to make yourselves feel special. You wouldn't be on this ship if you weren't needed and we wouldn't be able to do our job without you either. It's all in your own mentality. Stop thinking you're worthless and you won't be. It's simple."

"Only for you," Scar said.

"Break's over," Tog declared, already turning for the other corridor.

Hypori flashed grey and began floating way. "Back to physical training for us. Remember what I said. And don't worry, I'll pass the word along to Major Rancher. She'll do something."

The three of them left Rauld feeling bewildered.

He was worthless because he thought he was? But how did that account for how everyone else treated them? How his own CO and subordinates treated him? It couldn't just be as simple as that, could it?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Captain Strabland floated a hands breadth above his chair as he stared at the two officers before his desk.

Major Rancher was calm though unsure of why she had been summoned, whereas Lieutenant Sealer looked as though he was expecting a captain's mast. Despite being allowed to relax, the young officer was stiff as an ironing board.

"Lieutenant, I've been made aware that there are some potential issues regarding cooperation between your squadron and Major Rancher's."

The lieutenant swallowed and his pupils shrank. "Is that so, Sir? I don't recall making any complaint so I'm sorry if I or anyone in my unit gave that impression."

Strabland narrowed his eyes, allowing his mantle to darken and redden. Even Rancher allowed some contempt to leak through her professional facade. He didn't want to be too hard on someone who had probably been promoted before they were ready on account of the war situation but there were certain things expected of officers of any rank.

"Major, would you care to share again what you passed on to me earlier?"

Rancher straightened and took a second to collect her thoughts before she spoke. "Sir, it was brought to my attention that the 52nd was concerned about possible friendly fire incidents since their first instinct upon seeing a mobile suit would be to shoot it. Given that our two units have not trained together at all, confusion and lack of coordination is likely at a critical moment, which we can't afford." With emphasis, she added, "given the composition of half my squadron, I think it essential we consider the matter carefully."

Sealer was paler now, his mantle looking blanched. Strabland asked, "does any of that sound familiar, Lieutenant?" He swore he saw the inkyar shiver.

"Sir, I…we meant no offence at all. It's just a concern my most… junior officer brought up. I assure you we can work through it."

Strabland considered him for a moment. He was clearly worried about being reprimanded for something but far out of proportion for whatever it was he imagined. What had happened to him in the past to generate this response?

Strabland reigned in his emotions, returning his mantle and expression to a more neutral display. "Why would you think anyone would be offended, Lieutenant?"

Distress tainted the now bleached pink of Sealer's mantle with blotches of dark purple. He knew he was probably stressing already frayed nerves but Strabland didn't retract the question.

"I… Sir, I… don't know."

Strabland could almost see past events flashing in front of Sealer's eyes. The question was did he have the answer and was afraid to tell them or did he honestly not consciously know?

He leaned back and glanced at Rancher who seemed to be hiding her emotions for the moment. He returned his gaze to Sealer and pulsed blue.

"What rank were you at the start of the war, Lieutenant?"

Sealer gulped audibly and his eyes half rolled back. "Ensign, Sir. I finished training about four months before the war started. I was stationed on Scylla."

"What as?"

Sealer adopted the face of a kid who'd just had their tower knocked over. "I was a shuttle pilot, Sir."

Strabland couldn't help but smirk a little. He understood him better now. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, Lieutenant. Plenty of people start off as shuttle pilots." He considered. "Though, I suppose not many who are asked to command squadrons of people into battle. Jumping up to Lieutenant in such a short time, even in war, is pretty impressive."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I imagine the course to prepare you for being a squadron commander was tough."

"It was an intense two weeks, Sir." He was starting to relax a little. That was good. Strabland needed him to be as frank and honest with him as possible.

"There are disadvantages rising up so fast though, aren't there? You weren't granted the normal time and training to help you learn how to be an officer of your rank so you've had to learn as you go along, but haven't had time to really catch up."

Sealer bit his lip and hesitated before answering. "I suppose that might be true, Sir, but I wouldn't know."

"No," Strabland admitted sadly, "I guess you and a whole lot of other young officers wouldn't. Would you say the same could be said for the pilots under your own command?"

"I would, Sir." Strabland took his immediate response as a good sign. At least he was trying to keep his finger on the pulse of his people.

"Alright, well I'm willing to take all you've been through under consideration, Lieutenant, and since nobody else took the time to teach you I suppose that falls on us to some degree, so you can stop worrying about any perceived offence on your part."

Sealer didn't say anything in response but the way his stiff body relaxed spoke plenty on its own.

"In light of that, could you elaborate on what you were saying Major Rancher? Who was it who brought the issue of friendly fire to your attention?"

"It was one of my subordinates, Sir. She was told to pass along the message to me from one of Lieutenant Sealer's officers."

Sealer tensed again, hostility flashing through his mantle before he brought himself under control.

Strabland lifted a finger in his direction. "While it is important to delegate, Lieutenant, an issue like this should be brought directly to mine and Major Rancher's attention. Having to go in the back way like that leads to people playing telephone and that never goes well."

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Alright then, we have an issue, how do we solve it?"

Rancher spoke again. "I already talked it over with my people, Sir. We can't show them the prototype hangar, but given what's in the other hangar and that it's not actually our tech, and there's really no reason to keep the secret from them at this point, I don't see why we can't show them what's in the second one."

Strabland lifted his eyebrows. "You want to give them access to Red Team's hangar?"

"Limited access on an invite only basis. If we bring them in one flight at a time and give them an up-close look at the machines, it might help the issue. We can also temporarily transfer the spare prototype down there so they can see what that looks like too. The more I think about it, the more it seems counter-productive and unnecessary to leave them in the dark."

Strabland nodded. "Agreed. You can have your people fill them in?"

"Of course, Sir. We're still a ways out from Knossos so there should be more than enough time."

"Sir." Sealer timidly raised a hand. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Strabland looked at him oddly. "And why is that?" He could see Sealer bracing himself as he prepared his answer.

"Sir, I'm concerned it might negatively affect the morale of my people. Balls and their pilots are often seen as disposable by many commanders, at least that's the impression a lot of us get, and while I understand what Major Rancher is trying to do, it might be misinterpreted by some as the mobile suit pilots showing off."

Rancher gave him a strange look. "I don't see how it could be interpreted that way."

Strabland turned his mantle a cautious amber. "The Lieutenant knows his people better than we do, Major. I think we'll just have to trust him on that front. Any thought how you might be able to alleviate that concern?"

Rancher pulsed blue. "I could have Ensign Swiftcurrent be the one to give all the familiarization tours. She's personable and a former Ball pilot herself, so there shouldn't be any resentment there."

Strabland looked back at Sealer. "That might be the best we can do, Lieutenant. We've got limited time available to us and this is something we can do right now. Unless you have a better idea."

Sealer winced. "No, Sir, I don't."

"Then any perceived offences you'll just have to deal with and smooth over. We came out here to do a job, we didn't come out here to be nice. Your pilots have to be aware this isn't high school." He narrowed his eyes. "And our duty is more important than our personal feelings."

Sealer gulped. "Yes, Sir."

"Then that's the plan." He sighed in relief and relaxed his body a little, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"You know, it's a little awkward that this didn't come up before. We've had our heads so buried in what we're going to do when the fight finally does come that we forgot such fundamental things. So, how about we take a little time and try to think of any other painfully obvious issues we may have missed?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Definitely a minovsky reactor," the old gravelly voice of the sensor operator said. "First Feddie ship ah've seen with one. Makes sense they'd use it on a fat whale like this though."

Poison Tooth's shipmaster grinned. "And they wouldn't send a ship like that to haul toilet paper or scrap iron either. There's something valuable in that whale's belly."

"Aye," the sensor operator agreed. "But she looks like she 'as 'er own teeth. Ah can't see much this far but she's got some guns on 'er."

"Obviously. They wouldn't make a ship that big and have it haul something that valuable alone and have it unarmed. I think we can consider her marked."

"Done, skipper."

"Good. Dirge, break us out of the current. Jackal, get ready to transmit our mark to the Scourge. Make sure they know what a nice fat haul is coming their way."

Ten minutes later, the Poison Tooth broke through the wall of the current into interplanetary space, well away from the influence of minovsky particles. It deployed its long-range transmitter, pointed it towards Knossos and began sending its message.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rauld led the way as his flight hustled through the corridors on the ship's starboard side, though Mouse practically had to push Sunni along to get her to keep up. Even so, he couldn't remember a time when his flight's spirits had been so high.

Rauld honestly hadn't been sure what to expect when he'd spoken to Hypori about their concerns regarding friendly fire and other issues, but he certainly hadn't expected Sealer to send his flight in first if they could hurry over there in time. It hadn't taken much to motivate the rest of his flight to take the tour either. It was the first time they had ever been chosen first to do anything pleasant. Now they were going to see the mobile suits before everyone else.

"I hope the cockpits are bigger," Tank remarked as they slowed to turn around a corner.

"If they're as big as the Octarian ones I don't see why they wouldn't," Biter replied. He was in a rare good mood too. The only ones who weren't terribly enthusiastic were Sunni, of course, and Mouse.

Rauld wasn't sure why but Mouse had been somewhat disdainful of the mobile suit pilots ever since that one interaction. He wondered if she had a special dislike of mobile suits because they were the enemy's weapon and she didn't like the idea of copying it. That didn't sound much like Mouse, to his mind, but he couldn't pretend he knew his people very well.

They slowed as they approached the corridor running along the number four hangar. Two Marine sentries were in their path, fully kitted out, submachine guns in hand.

Rauld brought the group to a halt and tried to suppress his excitement under the mask appropriate of an officer.

"I think this is where we're supposed to wait," he said. "They probably won't make us wait long."

"I hope not," Biter said. "'Cause if this is some practical joke, someone's getting their funnels shoved out through their mouths."

Sunni emitted a groan like someone being wakened from a peaceful slumber. "You're all making too big a deal out of this. What difference does it make that we get to see mobile suits? It won't affect us."

Nobody replied. They'd all learned by now it was pointless to argue with Sunni.

Fortunately for all of them, they were there less than five minutes before someone emerged from the other side of the bulkhead behind the Marines. To Rauld's pleasant surprise, it was Hypori.

"Hello," she greeted cheerfully. "Your friendly neighbourhood tour guide is here. Sorry I haven't got a flag."

Sunni made a sound like someone swallowing a slice of lime. To a dour person like her, a genuinely sunny person like Hypori was probably the worst sort of individual to interact with.

"I'm Ensign Swiftcurrent of Rancher's Raiders, professional mobile suit pilot and your humble guide to Hangar Four. Please be sure to keep all appendages inside the hangar at all times, no photography, and no feeding the technicians."

"Brig me now," Sunni grumbled.

Hypori clearly heard her because she floated to stand right in front of Sunni, her smile never faltering. "Afraid it won't be brig time for any of you." She brought her right hand to her hip and it was only then Rauld noticed the holstered pistol she was carrying. "See, I and the other pilots have to carry these handy little accessories while you're visiting, just in case someone misbehaves. Something about security and all that. Don't worry though, it's just in case. Nobody expects you to actually do anything, but every tour guide knows how rambunctious kids can be."

"Ensign." Mouse stepped in placing herself not quite between Hypori and Sunni. "I find that an inappropriate joke." She stared firmly back into Hypori's eyes with that same hostility Rauld had seen before. He wondered if he was supposed to interfere or say something in that moment, but Hypori acted first.

Shrugging, the other ensign simply said, "well, not everyone appreciates my sense of humour." Then she floated back through the bulkhead and beckoned them.

"Come along, everyone. Remember to stay with the group and keep an orderly line."

She was having fun, Rauld realized, and wondered if his fellow ensign was using this as an opportunity to relieve stress. Not having to perform combat patrols, everyone in the 52nd assumed the mobile suit pilots had it easy, but what was really going on?

At Hypori's direction, they put on their helmets and filed into the airlock. "Radio check. Everyone can hear me? Good. You all know how hangars work so I'm not going to go through that whole spiel. Just stay out of everyone's way, do what I tell you, and everything will be fine."

"I wouldn't use those words if you're the one giving our CO the tour," Biter commented.

"He has to follow the same rules as everyone else, including that part, so don't worry."

Kinda' wish I could watch that interaction, Rauld thought, smiling to himself as he pictured the scenario in his head.

The airlock finished cycling and Hypori floated backwards out the door. "Welcome to Hangar Four, everyone." She swept her hand outwards and the rest of them looked into the cavernous space as they exited, and immediately gasped. Even Sunni openly expressed shock and surprised.

Standing in alcoves just like the ones their Ball docking racks had been built into, were three Zakus, Collective mobile suits. There were at least two more on the wall nearest to them.

"What are these doing here?" Biter exclaimed. "I thought we were seeing the Federation's new mobile suits!"

Hypori laughed at their reactions but managed to get herself under control after a minute or so. "Oh, I knew that would be my favourite part. Ah, to answer your question, the prototypes are still top secret and they're undergoing tuneups at the moment. We're not allowed to show those to you, but this is enemy tech so there's nothing wrong with showing you these, and you honestly should have been told we had them already but…" she shrugged. "Guess it slipped some people's mind. Don't worry though, we'll still be showing you one of the prototypes." She pointed to the back of the hangar where another mobile suit was docked, this one more skeletal in appearance compared to the Zakus and more basic, but it was painted in the same black and white paint scheme.

"But why do you have these?" Rauld asked.

"Because we didn't have enough of our own yet," Hypori shrugged again. "Anyways, come on. Haven't you always wanted to see one of these up close without it trying to kill you?"

She pushed off the railing and floated across the hangar towards one of the Zakus. Rauld was momentarily frozen, still fighting the fight or flight instincts telling him to run away and hide from the massive metal monsters. Nothing to fear, he told himself. They're just suits without anyone inside. Gritting his beak, he fought his instincts and leapt after Hypori, the rest of Dogger Flight close behind.

Rauld tried to ignore the way the Zaku seemed to loom over him as they got closer, focusing instead on the isometric pyramid drawn over the left breast. They stopped themselves against the machine's chest, Hypori extending her hand to help as she held onto the handhold next to the airlock.

Once they were all stopped, she gestured up to the machine, "this is the MS-06 Zaku II. There are many like it but this one's mine. We built most of these machines from salvaged bits so they're kind of a pain to work on." She jutted her thumb over her shoulder at two people in pilot suits helping some of the technicians manipulate a huge wrench as they worked on the shoulder joint.

"Anyway, the Zaku II is faster and has better endurance than our standard fighters. If you're piloting one of the Balls with the lighter guns, then you want to aim for the legs, backpack, and head. That's where you can hurt them the most." She pointed up at the thick armoured plate that went over the airlock. "You're a lot less likely to get through that, and if you hit the legs, you'll take out their foot thrusters, which reduces their mobility and control a lot."

"Wish somebody would've told us that in training," Tank groused. "What about the one-eighties?"

Hypori considered for a moment. "Well, you're a lot less likely hit the legs with that so aim for the backpack and centre of mass like usual. Also, use a lot of side to side movements if you want to evade them. Ball has much better initial acceleration along the y-axis. Just try not to be too predictable."

More good advice, Rauld thought. Things that would keep him and his flight alive, and help them kill more of the enemy. He noted that Biter was actually paying close attention.

Hypori went into more detail about the Zaku's general flight characteristics and highlighting things they could do to exploit them. She then invited them into the airlock tunnel and, one at a time, they each got to sit in the cockpit seat.

Rauld was overwhelmed when he got to sit in it. The layout had some similarities to the Ball and other pods but also distinctly foreign, with Octarian design cues everywhere he looked. It was unsettling, and complicated.

Tank let out a pleasant sigh when it was her turn. "Finally, a cockpit that kind of fits me!"

Hypori laughed. "The GM's cockpit is even bigger. I can't show you inside it but you'll have to take my word for it."

Biter tried to hide how impressed he was by cursing the Octarians the whole time he sat in the pilot's seat. By contrast, Mouse and Sunni were almost totally silent.

"What's it like flying a mobile suit?" Tank asked.

"You mean compared to a Ball?" Hypori pondered that for a second as she closed the Zaku's airlock hatch behind them. "Well, you're bigger and heavier, and a heck of a lot faster. You got to be the right mix of gentle and persuasive to keep the thrusters under control. You also have to use the limbs and thrusters together to get the most out of them. Just takes practice."

"Have you flown them in combat before?" Rauld asked.

Hypori hesitated. She stared off deeper into the hangar for a while before answering. "Not these ones, outside of a pretty intense exercise. But I've piloted mobile suits in combat before, yeah."

She beckoned them after her and brought them to the back of the hangar where the prototype mobile suit stood silently.

"This is the RGM-79," she declared. "It's the prototype for the new mobile suits that are going to start entering service with the CSF. The Marines kind of got there first with their mobile suit but fighter and Ball pilots will probably like this one better."

She started pointing out some of the features that made it superior to the Zaku, particularly the head-mounted CIWS guns, which could shoot down incoming missiles effectively.

"It still looks flimsy," Biter commented.

"It's a prototype frame, that's why. It's for testing operating a mobile suit in space. We just need a little real combat data in order to help the mass-production model come along. The frame they'll be using is tougher. Believe me, I know from experience."

"Totally believe you," Sunni said gloomily. It was the first time she'd spoken since they arrived in the hangar, but they were not the words or tone a noncom should use to address an officer, even an ensign.

Hypori looked at her and spoke before Rauld had a chance to reprimand his subordinate. "You think I'm lying?"

Sunni gave her a blank look. "No, just wrong. Why would they waste time making them easier for the pilots to survive in when they could get more performance and make them cheaper."

Hypori just stared at her for several seconds, then said, "wow." She turned back the way they'd come and yelled. "Hey, Scar!"

Hypori's helmet, picking up the volume of her voice, transmitted it wide. Elsewhere in the hangar, every helmet (unless set differently) picked up that Hypori was yelling and assumed she was trying to get the attention of its wearer, thus bypassing the usual proximity filters and filling everyone's ears with her voice.

Scar turned out to be one of the pilots helping the techs with the large wrench. She turned and looked in Hypori's direction then Hypori spoke again, pointing at Sunni.

"I actually found someone as grumpy and gloomy as you!"

After a second, Scar replied, "well she has been listening to you this whole time. Why don't you finish up and get ready to torment the next group?"

"Careful, I might tell Dad I need a break and she'll get you to do it."

Scar didn't respond to that but Rauld could see amusement in the body language of the technicians, leading him to assume this kind of banter was typical.

Hypori grinned triumphantly and looked back at them. "Anyway, I probably should get you back. We've got only so much time to get everyone through and everyone wants their turn."

She led them back to the airlock. Tank and Biter looked a little disappointed that the tour was over already.

When Rauld was finally able to get a word in he seized the chance to ask a question that had been nagging him. "I noticed that Scar and Tog aren't from the CSF. Are they still part of your team?"

"Yup. Scar's a Marine and Dirk's from the Lunar Army. We're a mixed service unit. Blue Team is mostly marines. All part of making sure the mobile suit that rolls of the assembly line does the job. It's been working out pretty good. We all get along."

"Didn't sound like it," Mouse commented.

Hypori laughed. "Awww, Scar's just fun to mess with. Keeps her head from getting too big with all the enemy aces she's dropped. It's all in good fun."

"You sound close," Rauld murmured, not quite quiet enough for his mic to not pick it up, and Hypori looked at him, her smile fading just a bit at his tone, perhaps remembering their last conversation.

"We've been through a lot in a short time together. Can't get through hell alongside others without thinking of them as some kind of family. If we hadn't trusted each other, we'd all be dead."

"Was it the same when you were in your Ball squadron though?" Biter asked. A measure of his usual caustic tone had returned.

Hypori shrugged. "I wasn't in the squadron long enough. Not sure what happened to them."

The airlock opened and they all floated out, and Hypori's cheerful demeanour returned.

"Thank you for taking our tour of Hangar Four. Please take a comment card to let us know how we did and be sure to visit the gift shop."

Rauld removed his helmet and let his mantle breathe for a bit as he led his flight back to their lockers on the port side of the ship. Along the way, he wondered if his flight, or their squadron for that matter, were capable of developing that kind of close relationship. Was it just something that couldn't be replicated everywhere or were they just doing something wrong?

Author's Notes:

Bit of a spicy chapter. Certainly, there are a lot of personal issues going back and forth, and also a lot of things that may have slipped through the cracks at the planning stages. Tunnel vision is a dangerous thing, especially when it comes to cooperation.

Do you think this will build a bridge between the 52nd and the 13th? Will the members of Dogger Flight somehow be brought closer together? How well do you think their first battle will go?