"We must never forget what we are fighting for. Whether it is those comrades beside us or the friends and family that we have left behind, or simply the preservation of our Mother Earth, we strive to perform at our greatest from their memories."
- Eiphar Synapse

Chapter X: Messenger from Home

Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
Deep Space
July 25, GC 379

Sleggar hadn't been sure what to expect when he returned to the Ark Royal, but he knew this definitely wasn't it. Having just exited Unit Beta's cockpit, he watched as the near entirety of activity within the hangar ground to a halt, all eyes having turned toward the center. There, a single shuttle had touched down, no more than a few meters from where Bright and Mirai were standing, with a Federal officer type and accompanying security personnel now in the process of exiting either. Amongst their number, it was obviously the officer that stood out the most. The one who drew the eyes of nearly every male around her.

Standing at just a little over one and a half meters, the woman in question was not an overly tall individual, but neither was she overly petite, such that she was roughly the same height as Bright and Sleggar. She was very slim, enough that, in spite of wearing the standard Federal Forces grey and black uniform with complimenting greatcoat, her profile was both perfectly framed and visible toward all those who looked upon her. At the same time however, Sleggar could tell that she wasn't the frail type; quite the contrary, he could see that she was well muscled from her posture and the way she moved within the hangar's lack of gravity. Indeed, if she had been wearing body armor or a normal suit, Sleggar could have easily seen her as a marine or a mobile suit pilot.

And then there was her face, which even from his position well above, Sleggar could see clearly. Holding pale white skin and being completely unblemished, she was a natural beauty, her face being perfectly structured and without even the slightest flaw. A hint of short yet highly vibrant red hair could be depicted from underneath the commissar cap that she wore, while her eyes, colored in a light brown, gazed straight forward toward her intended destination, specifically where Bright and Mirai were waiting.

And yet, in spite of her alluring beauty, it was clear that she remained a Federal officer and held a certain level of authority. The aura of calm she projected, as well as the casual indifference to all the attention she was receiving, was indicative enough of it, as well as the extremely serious gaze she held toward the Ark Royal's captain as she floated toward him. Her blue shoulder boards, both retaining the twin gold stripes and single gold diamonds of a Lieutenant Commander, only belied her position as the commander of a Federation starship.

Once she reached the appropriate distance, the woman casually dropped her feet down to the deck and came to halt just in front of Bright, with her subordinates following suit a little after. From there, she straightened up and snapped a salute. "Commander Noa," she acknowledged.

"Commander Ajan," Bright replied as he and Mirai both returned the salute, Sleggar floating down beside them as they did. "On behalf of my ship and crew, you have our thanks for your welcome assistance," he said, then dropping his hand. "Though I get the feeling that isn't why you've come here."

A flat smile crossed Ajan's lips. "A very perceptive analysis Commander," she exclaimed, ignoring the small crowd that was slowly growing around them as she continued. "As a matter of fact, my taskforce had been ordered to rendezvous with you long before the events at hand," her eyes narrowed with further seriousness. "By the command of Fleet Admiral Revil."

Himself ignoring the surrounding collective gasp at the mention of COMSPAF, Bright looked back with peculiarity. "I see," he replied evenly. "And I suppose it isn't simply to resupply us?"

Ajan shook her head. "I'm afraid not, though it is part of my mission," she answered, ignoring all the attention around her. "I suggest we move somewhere private from here on in Commander. As well as have our ships enter warp at the earliest opportunity."

Deigning to look around for the first time, Bright cast a terse glance toward Astonaige, who was among those gathered. Nodding at the message, the Ark Royal's chief technician patted his nearest subordinate on the shoulder and floated away, causing a chain reaction as the indirect command was passed down the ranks through various means. Eventually the crowd dispersed and returned to their tasks at hand, but not without additional furtive glances toward the Medea's commander.

With that taken care of, Bright returned his attention toward Ajan. "By all means," he said. "Any particular course in mind?"

Ajan seemed to consider for a moment. "There is a shoal zone not far from our position," she replied. "That would be as good a place as any for the resupply."

"Very well," Bright said, before sharing a glance toward Mirai, who nodded and relayed the orders to the bridge through her wristcom. After that, Bright gestured toward the nearby turbolift. "After you."

Nodding in gratitude, Ajan and her escort moved toward the turbolift, with Bright, Mirai and Sleggar all following along after her. From there, life resumed within the hangar, though with much hushed conversation around a certain topic.

"Goddamn, did you see that ass!?" Eledore commented as he finished stripping off his normal suit and underclothing, then stepping into a nearby shower stall. "Even through that greatcoat, she's got a nice rear assembly if you know what I mean!"

Taking a moment to enjoy the warm water against his skin, Eledore only went on from there. "And that rack!" he continued. "Love to see how she really floats in z-grav!"

"For once Eledore, I have to agree," Job spoke up, sounding just as enamored as he also stripped off and moved into a shower. "That Commander Ajan has it going for her."

"That she does, as uncharacteristic of me to point it out," Sanders commented approvingly from his end, though unlike Eledore and Job he still had his wits about him. The ring on his left hand certainly kept his priorities in order. "They should put her in the recruitment ads."

"Preferably in something out of uniform," Job happily added.

Not far away, Hayato felt himself bristle. "You do realize that this is a Lieutenant Commander you're talking about, right?"

"Lieutenant Commander going on Venus Globe centerfold," Michel let out in a rather dreamy trance, such that he seemed to be frozen with his normal suit stripped down to his waist. "I really wouldn't mind getting letters from her…"

"What about B.B.?" Job commented with no short amount of bemusement.

The other Shrike looked up with mock confusion. "B.B. who?" he exclaimed.

Letting out a chuckle, Sanders considered for a moment. "Got to admit though, she's a little young to be a O-4," he said. "I mean, I could see her as a Lieutenant, but a Lieutenant Commander…"

"Probably got promoted under the same circumstances as Captain Noa and Commander Yashima," Job replied, a flicker of seriousness entering his tone. "The more seasoned bunch on her ship were all killed off, and there were no available replacements."

"Probably," Sanders conceded. "Though that's still a pretty damn high elevation in rank."

"Who the hell cares? They could have made her an Admiral for all I give a damn!" Eledore chimed in again. "Only three things matter as far as I'm concerned: she's hot, she's here to resupply us and she's hot."

He smirked at his own words. "I'm sure you all know which one takes precedence."

Further taken aback, Hayato vehemently shook his head. "Seriously people," he exclaimed. "Regardless of the circumstances, she's a superior officer," he went on, despite the audience he was receiving. "And it's also against regulations to…"

"Give it a rest already Hayato," Kai spoke up sardonically as he himself moved to a stall, slapping Hayato against the back of the head with his towel as he passed. "We get it, puberty wasn't your thing, but that doesn't mean you can talk down to the rest of us."

He then smiled in his usual trollish fashion. "Or perhaps you would have preferred a Commander Matthew Ajan instead?"

Hayato rolled his eyes, knowing bait when he saw or heard it. "At the very least, I doubt you all would be talking about him in the same manner."

"Misogynist," Job quipped as he began to relax under the warm water.

Letting out a small chuckle at that, Eledore then turned to the stall next to him. "What about you Amuro?" he asked. "What do you think of the new lady commander?"

For his part, Amuro had been trying to concentrate on his own shower and not the surrounding conversation, much less the additional naked bodies. He had never been a fan of locker room arrangements, whether it in high school or in the military, and usually went well out of his way to make sure he bathed and changed clothes in his own setting. Unfortunately while his quarters did have its own bathroom facility, protocol demanded that he change out of his normal suit and uniform or vice versa in the male pilots' locker room, which contained the only real storage space for his normal suit anyway. That and after the ordeal he had gone through with that purple Zaku, the trip back to his quarters would have taken too long anyway.

And as for the conversation, Amuro supposed Commander Ajan was attractive. She certainly had all the hallmarks for it, as far as he knew about such things. That being said however, Amuro didn't quite feel drawn to her like those around him did. Whether it was the fact she was several ranks higher than him or just the fact he wasn't really interested in that kind of thing, he just didn't feel anything more toward the commander than the fact she was beautiful and a superior officer. Not that he could explain to those around him without them assuming the same thing Kai had claimed of Hayato, of course.

"Hello, Ground Control to Lieutenant Ray," Eledore let out when his fellow junior Lieutenant didn't speak up. "Are you in there?"

"Leave him be Eledore. He's had a hell of a day," Sanders stated. Though it had been brief, he had caught a glimpse of the fight Amuro had with that ace custom Zaku, and could understand why he had chosen to remain silent. "Besides, contrary to what you may think, not everyone is in this war to get a date."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Kai spoke up again, antennae twitching at the opportunity. "I mean, we've already seen him hang out with a certain brunette, who happens to have a station aboard this ship…"

"Really?" Eledore perked up in interest. "We have a brunette on this ship?"

Kai rolled his eyes, as did nearly everyone else in the locker room. "Doc Bow, jackass," he retorted. "They've obviously been giving each other physical examinations, the real kind, for a while now."

"What!? No!" Amuro stammered at last. "I mean, Fraw's a friend, but I'm not…!"

"Really?" Kai continued, knowing he had hit a weak spot. "Then why is it that, despite your apparent haphephobia, you have no problems with her touching you?"

The question hung in the air as the locker room occupants suddenly became interested. Indeed, they had seen how Fraw came to Amuro's side not too long ago after his violent reaction to Kai's pat on the back, and though none of them thought much of it at the time, she had in fact touched him in order to calm him down.

And as for Amuro, he too wasn't sure how to explain it. He had known Fraw for a long time, and as his self-designated personal physician, she had initiated that form of contact with him for as long as he could remember, and yet not once could he recall it ever really offending him. In fact, he had never even thought about it until now.

"I…" Amuro stammered again, trying to come up with an answer. "I don't know…I mean…"

"Come on, you don't have to be shy Lieutenant," Kai gleefully pressed on, once more thriving on the resultant discomfort. "I mean, we would all give to be touched like that…"

Sanders quickly stepped in again. "Alright, call it in for today Kai," he stated, glaring down the offender. "The Zeeks were already bad enough."

Kai let out a derisive sniff, his fun properly ruined. "Is that an order Lieutenant?"

Sanders' glare intensified at the quip. "I can make it one," he said. "Just as I can make you go out and spit shine your Guncannon top to bottom, right this instant."

"Hmph," Kai let out, taking one last glance at Amuro's stall, his ears picking up on the not-so-discreet sigh of relief, before deciding to drop it and move on with his own shower. The other pilots followed his example, going about their business, though a few continued to chat on about Commander Ajan.

Dork probably prefers blondes anyway. he thought with some bemusement, recalling the inordinate amount of time the good Lieutenant had spent with their resident Valkyrie. If nothing else, he appreciated the irony of it; who knew the one person on the Ark Royal with absolutely no interest in the opposite sex – or so it appeared – would turn out to be quite the ladies' man.

Now settled within the safety of Bright's office, the four officers allowed themselves to relax as an anonymous crewman slipped a cream tea tray onto the nearby table. Whatever the opposite commander had been sent to talk to them about had to be important, Bright knew, as did Mirai and Sleggar; as if the fact Commander Ajan had not spoken a word since the brief exchange in the hangar wasn't enough, there were those two guards she had stationed on the outside, their sidearms visible and their expressions humorless. For her part however, the transport captain seemed to take the whole state of affairs casually, graciously taking a cup of tea the crewman went about his work, then departing at once upon its completion. As soon as he exited, Ajan took a small sip of her cup before she began speaking again.

"As you can all likely tell," Ajan stated as the trio went about preparing their respective snacks. "What I am about to discuss with you is classified at the highest level. Nothing that is exchanged here is to be repeated beyond this office, even to those who may hold the proper security clearances."

"Trust me, we gathered that already," Sleggar exclaimed as he took a scone and began spreading clotted cream over the halves. "It's not every day COMSTAF sends a personal emissary, especially without advanced notice."

Though he probably could have chosen a more discreet one. Mirai thought but tactfully refrained from saying aloud. It was a good bet that word of Commander Ajan's beauty, as well as amateur analyses of her three sizes, had spread all over the ship by now. "I take it the subject matter is such that traditional communications weren't viable?"

"Indeed Commander," Ajan confirmed as she herself took a scone, Bright passing her the clotted cream and strawberry jam courteously. She then gave off a flat smile. "We can't let the Zeon listen in on all of our dastardly plots, can we?"

"Heh," Bright exclaimed as he took a sip of his own tea. Not only was Commander Ajan beautiful, she also had a sense of humor. Overall things were off to a good start, though his instincts told him that was not going to last. "Let's start with the basics," he spoke all too knowingly. "We're not heading for Earth anymore, are we?"

Both Sleggar and Mirai looked up at that, already beginning to fear the worst. Putting down her scone without taking a bite just yet, Ajan nodded in confirmation. "I'm afraid so," she spoke regretfully. "As of now, the Ark Royal's mission has changed."

At that, she withdrew a dataclip from her uniform and inserted it into one of the table's slots. A moment later, a holographic image flickered to life above the table. The three other officers were quick to note the blue line that extended through the galaxy toward the outskirts of a very specific sector. As well as the fact that it passed through a good portion of enemy space, Zeon or otherwise.

"By order of Admiral Revil, you are to proceed across this established route, engaging whatever targets of opportunity you meet along the way," Ajan explained. "As well as whatever enemy forces that may be sent to intercept you."

Bright sighed, already guessing the answer to his next question. "Escort?"

Reluctantly, Ajan shook her head. "All forces are unfortunately committed," she continued to explain. "And even then, Command believes it would be more beneficial to the war effort for the Ark Royal to proceed alone."

Mirai quickly fixed the opposite commander with a withering glare. "Let me get this straight," she said, her voice tense with rising anger. "Not only are we being sent through the heart of occupied territory to wherever Command wants us – which is noticeably far from Federation space in itself – but we're expected to go in and survive without reinforcements?"

Grimly, Ajan nodded. "Beyond those I am to resupply you with," she summarized, in a tone that showed even she thought the whole setup was insane.

Sleggar closed his eyes to stem his own anger. "Can we say suicide mission?" he grumbled, already imagining what lay ahead. "We'll have every Zeek from here to Tigerbaum on top of us."

"To say nothing of their allies," Mirai added, nodding to an area of space uncomfortably close to their plotted course, which was occupied by forces of Cosmo Babylonia. There were also areas marked by Nergalite and Zanscarian presences, among others. "How the hell is this 'beneficial' to the war effort?"

Taking another sip of her tea, Ajan answered. "Command is aware of the attention the Ark Royal has been receiving as of late," she explained. "So long as this ship, and others of similar notoriety, remains a fixture for Zeon and its allies, Admiral Revil can continue organizing the rest of our forces for a specific operation."

She then cast a conspiring glance toward the three, while reaching back for her scone. "An operation that the Ark Royal has been selected to take part in, in spite of your doubts toward your own survival," she said, then taking a bite.

Bright and the others caught the underlying message there. Not only did Admiral Revil and the rest of High Command expect them to practically take on the entirety of the Space Attack Force, as well as those of their allies, singlehandedly, they also expected them to survive for a far more important operation, whatever it was. That said, the three couldn't help but collectively wonder if that was due to the Ark Royal serving as the impromptu mothership of Project V - whatever that was Sleggar mused – or if it was due to the fact she was one of the Federation's remaining Lexingtons.

Regardless, it was all Bright could do to ask the golden question. "What is this operation you speak of?"

Wiping the crumbs from her lips with a napkin, Ajan tapped a switch on the table, causing the overhead image to zero in toward the end of the Ark Royal's path. There, centered on a very specific sector and a very specific system, were a series of blue lines and arrows intersecting toward very specific points. However, it was not the lines and arrows that caused Bright and the others to become fixed upon the image. Rather, it was the name of the sector, the system, and a particular planet in question that had taken their attention.

Seeing this, Ajan couldn't help but fold a rather devious smile toward the image herself. "On Admiral Revil's behalf, I present to you Operation Odessa," she announced with no shortage of theatricality. "An offensive that, once executed, will turn the entire course of this war…"

Zeon Rewloola-class battlecruiser Ralmel
Warp

"We can't let this stand Char!" Garma shouted over the sound-only channel as Char stepped out of his quarters' bathroom, dressed in a robe and with a towel over his head. "We've come too far, and those lowborn bastards have done too much for us to back off now!"

Wiping the water out of his blonde hair, Char smirked to himself. Garma was never one to control his temperament. "Regardless Garma, they won this round," he said. "And it would be suicide to pursue them without viable reinforcements."

"I know that, damn it!" Garma exclaimed in rising anger. "I've already put the command out, but it will take hours if not days for those reinforcements to reach us! To say nothing of the replacement Zakus…"

"It will be alright," Char replied reassuringly. "They won't get far in that timeframe, especially since they have to be refurbished themselves," he said as he took his seat in front of his desk. "There was a Plattsburgh-class transport mixed in with that taskforce after all."

On the other end, Garma pursed his lips in thought. "Wouldn't it be more prudent to attack them while they're being resupplied?" he inquired. "I imagine they would be quite vulnerable with a Plattsburgh attached to their hull like that."

Char shook his head at the thought. "We don't know where they've moved for the operation," he answered. "And even if we did, the Ark Royal not only retains the bulk of her mobile suits, but is also safeguarded by those three Chicagos and their mobile suits as well," he stated, feigning regret. "All while our forces remain as they are."

Though Char didn't see his face, he knew his friend was seething on the other side. Good. "We could have another force search and intercept while we gather our strength," Char offered. "For example, there is a Fifth Fleet garrison on Cruteo…"

"Forget it! I'm not about to hand this operation over to Sahalin!" Garma responded with more force than he intended. "This hunt is ours, and ours alone!"

Again Char smirked. He was hoping the admiral would say that. "Then we have no choice but to be patient and build our forces back up," he spoke smoothly. "Otherwise we will simply be playing into their hands, regardless of whatever position they're in."

Silence greeted him from the other end once more, to which Char realized Garma had physically cringed in response. "It will only be a few days," he continued to speak smoothly. "We can easily resume the hunt in that timespan."

Another pause as Garma considered those words. "How will we find them again?" he wondered. "It was only by blind luck we came over them the first time."

At that, Char's smirk took on a more conspiring gleam. "They know we're onto them, which means they will take steps to evade us," he said, the memory of X-145 playing out in his mind. "In fact, I would wager they're going to hold their resupply in an asteroid field or a shoal zone."

Garma nodded at the thought. "Go on."

Hearing that, Char switched his terminal screen over to a star map of the sector, again recalling the tactics the Ark Royal's captain had practiced before. "After that, they will likely move somewhere more elaborate. An area of space that would not only shield them from sensors, but also obstruct any pursuit," he said, his eyes scanning over the map.

He then shook his head again; there were too many areas of space that fit that description within the Ark Royal's range. "Unfortunately, it will take some time to narrow that down…"

"That's fine," Garma replied, already sounding better now that he had some idea of where his enemy would go and what he may do. "As you said, they won't be able to get far. We can easily go down the list as our reinforcements come in."

Char nodded. "If that is your wish, Admiral," he said, putting as much irony into his tone as he could.

If Garma was bothered by his friend's usage of his much despised rank, he didn't let his voice show it. "In the meantime, we'll proceed to Jahannam. Our reinforcements gather will there as well."

"That's acceptable," Char replied in agreement as he looked over the designated world. "It's closer than Callax, enough that we can easily resume the operation once we're revitalized."

"Which is why I selected it," Garma replied chidingly. "As much as I hate this damned rank, I'm not totally daft when it comes to strategy Char."

Char let out a purposeful chuckle at that. "The thought had never crossed my mind Garma," he answered, before stretching his arms. As good as he was, his fight with Artesia had really taken it out of him. "In the meantime, I think I'll call it a day."

Garma nodded on the other end. "That's fine. You did enough keeping the Valkyrie at bay," he said, before adding. "Next time however, I expect you to complete your task, Commander."

Char bit his lip on that, once more being thankful that the communique was sound only. "I will not fail you Admiral," he replied evenly. "Sayla Mass' time will come soon enough."

"Good," Garma answered, before softening back. "Rest well my friend. Reugen out."

With that, the channel closed, placing the vicinity back into silence. Retaining his smirk, Char stared at the blank screen for a moment longer, before at last getting up, shedding his robe and moving to his bed. Little by little, his plan was coming toward fruitation, with his target ever progressing toward the guillotine. All he needed was the right push at the right time, and the blade would fall.

That being said, it wasn't all going completely to plan. Even as he lay down, Artesia's image continued to play through his mind, the memory of her rage burning against him like a physical fire. Char sighed at that memory, wishing yet again that his beloved sister had chosen to make a life for herself outside the battlefield; that, even if she were to fall into this war, that it would have been as a medic rather than a true combatant. That had been his staunch hope upon leaving her behind, so that he could shoulder their family's vengeance alone while Artesia moved on and found a place in the universe, one well away from the bloodshed.

But that was not to be, Char realized all too well, having at last reencountered her. Instead of dwindling into passivity over the progress of time, Artesia's hatred and lust for vengeance - among other elements - had only grown and intensified, such that it almost completely encompassed her spirit. No longer was she the young girl who dreamed of becoming a doctor and saving lives, whether they were highborn or otherwise. Now she was the Valkyrie of Riah, the incarnation of death that would see the House of Zabi and its collective taint over Zeon and the galaxy eradicated. A being that had given herself over to wrath and destruction.

I should never have left you behind. Char thought with no small amount of shame and regret. Indeed, he wished he understood then what he did now. That Artesia, more than even himself, needed vengeance; that she needed to avenge their father and their family more than anything else. Nothing he could have done, then and now, would change that.

As a side effect, things were now that much more complicated. While their objectives were obviously the same, Char could not deny that Artesia was an uncontrolled element; one that could potentially jeopardize everything. Yes she had killed Sasro, and would surely kill any other Zabi that came into her reach, but whereas Char would have done so with calm and collectivity, Artesia was purely fueled by her rage. That made her dangerous, even more so than the White Devil had been at Juno. Char couldn't afford that kind of danger. Nor could the galaxy at large, especially…

Still, it was what it was, and Char knew he would not come up with any solutions at this time, no matter how much he thought about it. For the time being, he had no choice but to let Artesia continue as she had. She was, after all, a soldier of the Earth Federation, which meant that, for all of her rage, she could not act too out of line. Char found some comfort in that as sleep at last came to him.

Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
Shoal Zone

Stifling a yawn, Amuro continued to make his way down the deck, his belly rumbling from the lack of nutrient. For all the glamor mobile suits received from any given form of media, Amuro mused, it really wasn't for the faint of heart. For one thing, it severely depletes the human body of energy, such that by the time one returns to his or her landing space, he or she will usually find themselves in need of a long nap, and then afterward a hearty meal. The holodramas always seemed to miss that detail, as pilots were routinely depicted leaving their suits in top form - usually to their waiting love interests in the distance – without even the slightest hint of fatigue. Same with the recruiting ads, now that Amuro thought about it.

Fortunately the Ark Royal was out of danger for the time being – outside the natural dangers of its present environment anyway – which meant Amuro could go to the mess to enjoy a decent meal. At present, the fleetcarrier and her compatriots were hovering in the middle of an anonymous shoal zone, a debris field made from the remnants of a past battle or disaster, with the Medea going about its resupply while the triplet Chicagos kept watch. It was not the most ideal of locations; every now and then a piece of refuse impacted against the Ark Royal's hull to emphasize the hazard, much to Amuro's growing annoyance. However, even he understood that it was likely one of the safest places the Ark Royal could hide from the Zeeks, especially in as vulnerable a state as she was with the Medea attached to her starboard side arm. If the Zeeks were to find them again as they were now…

A heavy clang and brief rumbling interrupted that thought, with Amuro once again shifting to keep himself balanced. Yet another piece of debris had slipped by the Ark Royal's defenses and slammed into her; the twelfth one and counting. For his part, Amuro was just glad he had chosen to sleep during the hours long warp trek rather than after their arrival. As exhausted as he had been, there was no way he could have slept soundly with the hull constantly clanging and rocking. His Newtype senses picking up on the collective frustration of the others aboard the Ark Royal at having their ship banged around wouldn't have helped either.

"Amuro!" a familiar voice called out from behind him. Turning slightly, Amuro watched as Fraw moved up beside him, smiling brightly as she came up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Glad to see I'm not the only one needing a late dinner."

Looking back at the hand, Amuro was again reminded of Kai's exclamations earlier. Even now, after he had come to realize it, Fraw's touch didn't bother him at all; despite his disdain and anxiety at physical contact with other humans, hers felt more or less natural to him, perhaps even calming to some degree. As did Sayla's for that matter, but Amuro could understand her a bit more; she was a fellow Newtype, as well as the one who had saved him from the aftermath of Juno's destruction. Fraw, on the other hand, he had yet to figure out.

"Amuro?" Fraw looked on confusingly. "Are you alright?"

Shaking his head of the thought, as well as the other insinuations Kai had made toward his relationship with the young doctor, Amuro gently slipped her hand off his shoulder. "I'm fine," he replied simply, deciding he would consider it all later. Preferably upon a full and satisfied stomach. "Just a little tired still."

"Obviously," Fraw nodded in understanding. The two began moving again, passing another pair of crewmen as they went. "I heard you did well in this last fight," she continued, if only to keep the conversation going. "Took on another ace besides Aznable."

"It wasn't a big deal," Amuro replied casually, more to keep his continued irritation back. Even now, the mere memory of that purple Zaku and its overly talkative pilot made him cringe. "At the end of the day, a Zaku's a Zaku."

Fraw giggled at the idea. "I'm sure there's more than one Guncannon pilot that would think otherwise," she replied ironically. "But then, you are the White Devil. Or so the newsfeeds have been claiming."

"Don't remind me," Amuro retorted, having to force back his irritation on that as well. That title was quickly becoming more trouble than it was worth, especially to someone like him. How the hell did Commander and Sayla put up with their epithets? Much less enjoy the attention as Commander Law obviously did?

Soon enough, they arrived at the mess, which, in spite of Amuro's expectations, was mostly empty. Only select number of crewmen and fellow pilots were present, eating meals or simply hanging around and conversing while the jukebox played a random Marina Ismail song in the background. The young ace's confusion must have been evident, as Fraw let out another soft giggle toward him.

"It's almost midnight now," she explained, gesturing toward Amuro's wristcom. At that, he looked at it, and saw it was precisely 2304 hours. "You've were asleep for a while."

Amuro shrugged. "What can I say?" he exclaimed. "It really takes it out of you."

Once they both got their respective meals – which seemed to be Lunarian stew - they sat at one of the tables and began to eat. "So," Amuro began. "Anything important happen between the battle and now?"

Fraw considered for a moment. "Nothing significant, or at least nothing you don't already know about," she said. "We spent a few hours in warp and arrived at this shoal zone not too long ago. The resupply is still going on, and the crew that aren't asleep or on duty are either going through it or are ogling Commander Ajan."

Again recalling the conversation in the bathroom, Amuro shook his head once more. "Don't these people have anything better to do?" he let out in annoyance

Fraw nodded. "I hear you Amuro," she said, rolling her eyes. "Pretty much the whole ship is enamored with her, rank and regulations be damned."

Not wanting discuss that any more, Amuro decided to change the subject. "What about the first one?" he asked. "What are they rummaging through the supplies for if they're not on duty?"

The doctor smiled cutely, as if Amuro had asked a childish question. "The mail, of course," she answered. "The Medea also brought our mail in."

Realizing the obviousness of the answer, Amuro could only blink and nod. "I see," he replied.

Taking a bite of her Lunarian beef, Fraw continued from there. "You should look into it yourself," she said. "After all, you might have gotten something…"

"I doubt it," he replied again, this time dismissively. "My father is too much of a workaholic to write, especially when Project V is involved, and only god knows where my mother is…"

Herself realizing that she had hit a sore spot, Fraw decided to change tact. "What about fan mail? The White Devil has really been making rounds as of late." she said hintingly. "I heard there are quite a few girls on Earth that would love to meet you."

Amuro grimaced at the thought. "Please, that's the last thing I want or need," he exclaimed. "Besides, they only know the White Devil through Unit Alpha. They have yet to associate that title with Amuro Ray." And hopefully never will.

Fraw only shrugged at that. "Suit yourself," she exclaimed simply, before taking another bite of her dinner. Though Amuro couldn't be quite sure, even with his Newtype senses, he thought he detected some kind of reassurance on Fraw's part toward his answer.

Once more he changed the subject. "What about you?" he asked. "Have you gotten anything?"

Suddenly remembering the fact Fraw's parents were dead, Amuro hurriedly added on. "I mean, surely you've become popular as well," he nearly stammered. "Being the youngest medical officer in the Federal Forces."

Fraw smiled sweetly at that, having picked up on Amuro's realization. "As a matter of fact, I have," she said, before reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a datapad.

Taking it, Amuro activated it and read the contents as Fraw iterated. "It took them a while, but the Earth Board of Medical Specialties has reviewed my record and have granted me an honorary certification," she stated proudly. "I'm now free to practice medicine within the Federation, in or out of the military."

Nodding at her accomplishment, Amuro passed the datapad back. "Congratulations Fraw," he complimented. "I must say I'm impressed."

"Think nothing of it," she said, as if it were nothing of significance, yet inwardly holding no shortage of pride. "It just means I have a means of income after the war is over. And that's assuming I decide leave the military at all."

Amuro blinked in confusion again. "Why wouldn't you?" he inquired.

Pursing her lips, Fraw visibly considered her answer. "Let's just say there are some things I would remain in commission for," she said, her eyes visibly softening as she looked away somewhat.

Again Amuro wasn't sure, but he thought he detected another wave of sudden emotion within the young doctor. An emotion he couldn't quite identify this time around.

And then all at once, it either receded or was gone completely. Fraw looked up brightly once again. "Having said that, the war isn't going to wind down any time soon Amuro," she said. "So I don't have to worry about that now."

Though he was tempted to extend his power and scan into Fraw for whatever it was he had felt before, the way Sayla had taught him, Amuro decided that there was no real need. Instead, he again nodded at her again as he took his cup. "If you say so Fraw," he said before taking a drink.

"I'll be damned, I'm an uncle again!" Sanders proudly let out as he floated back down to the hangar deck, datapad held high in triumph. "I'm an uncle again!"

All at once the hangar filled with cheers as those present – or at least those who weren't in the process of bringing more supplies in from the Medea - reacted to the news. "Congratulations Lieutenant!" Astonaige sounded as he patted Sanders on the back. "Boy or girl?"

"Boy, very much so," Sanders nodded with a grand smile. "This will be my second nephew."

"Not bad," Astonaige nodded in approval. "And which sibling is the lucky parent?"

At that, Sanders' smile took on a more mischievous grin. "My elder brother, who's stationed back home," he exclaimed with a hint of sardonicism. "Never did learn to keep it in his pants, even after he already gave me my first nephew and niece."

The CMT let out a laugh at that. "Well, you know those rear echelon types," Astonaige stated. "They're so far from the real action that they have nothing better to do than to drink and screw."

"No shit," Karen let out as she, Shiro, Michel, Kiki and Eledore floated up, her tapping Sanders on the shoulder. Upon their approach, Astonaige took his leave and returned to his work in directing the resupply from the Ark Royal's end. "At this rate, you'll have a whole clan back home when the war's over Sanders."

Sanders laughed at the thought. "Clan nothing Karen," he shot back. "By the time the war is over, all of Mars will belong to the Sanders!"

"Great, as if the Zeeks weren't bad enough," Eledore commented in mock exasperation. "What next? A tripod invasion?"

Shiro himself chuckled to that. "I assume you'll be contributing to the coming revolution as well?"

Knowing what his superior was hinting at, Sanders nodded. "Hopefully by my next shore leave Commander. Assuming Gloria hasn't left me by that point," he then looked over the others. "And what about you guys? Got anything yourselves?"

Karen rolled her eyes. "Just another proposal from that deadbeat," she glowered. "As if he didn't figure it out when I first left for the Academy."

The other Shrike members – except for Eledore, who flashed a disgusted look - smirked at that, all recalling the story. "Yeah, you would have to be pretty dense not to take that kind of hint," Shiro commented. "Does he still have that limp?"

"He must. Otherwise he would have been drafted into the service already," Karen snidely answered. "But then, I was pretty thorough."

She shook her head at the memories. "Let this be an object lesson people: never date high school football players," she exclaimed in disdain. "They're all chauvinistic bastards."

Sanders folded his arms, trying to imagine. "Let me guess," he said. "You were a cheerleader."

Karen merely smirked back, noticing Eledore now being extra attentive. "Women's basketball," she corrected, eliciting a sigh of disappointment from her subordinate/lover. "I wasn't braindead enough to be a cheerleader."

Sanders snickered at the claim, trying to imagine Karen, as well muscled as she was, in a cheerleader uniform. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't complete the image. As such, he turned back to Eledore, Michel and Kiki. "And you three?"

At that, Eledore assumed a smugger expression. "Oh, nothing," he casually replied. "Just a reply from a certain record producer on my music…"

"Rejected again," Michel and Kiki all too happily recited.

Eledore's demeanor changed abruptly. "Those bastards wouldn't know a good song if it kicked them in the…!"

"Oh don't take it so hard," Karen interrupted before the would-be musician exploded. "There are more record producers out there. All you need is one to pick you up."

"And if not, there's always self-promotion," Sanders pointed out. "That's how Lacus Clyne got started, or so I heard."

"Course," Kiki couldn't help but add. "She sounds a helluva lot better than you."

"Not to mention looks a helluva lot better," Michel added as well.

Now mollified by the group's reassurances, as varied as they were, Eledore merely shrugged. "I have no complaints about that," he said. "I'd be honored if my songs were even comparable to hers."

"In that case, you have a long way to go Eledore," Sanders chided, before looking over at Michel. "And I take it you got another letter from your girlfriend."

"Indeed I did!" Michel let out brightly. "Complete with selfie!"

"Nice," Eledore chimed in, now interested. "Candid snapshot?" he asked hintingly.

"…Just her waving dual peace signs," Michel reluctantly admitted, sounding all too disappointed.

"Ouch," Kiki commented sympathetically. "What is she, still in junior high?"

Eledore patted Michel on the back reassuringly. "Happens to the best of us kid," he exclaimed. "I could write a book on all the disappointing girlfriend snapshots I've received…"

"If I were you, I would be grateful that you had girlfriends to give you snapshots at all," Karen stated, arms folded.

That brought an idea to mind on Eledore's part. "Speaking of," he said, once again hintingly. "I wouldn't mind…"

"Dream on, as the song goes," Karen stopped him short, before looking over to Kiki. "And you?"

Kiki shrugged. "Just more or less the same from my dad," she summarized. "The farm's still in our name, he and mom still worry about me, the whole family wishes me well, that kind of thing."

"Sounds eventful," Eledore quipped.

Again Kiki shrugged. "I'm not complaining," she said. "As long as they're there and rooting me on, I feel like I can take on the Zeeks all by myself."

"As you should," Shiro nodded with an appreciative smile.

Hearing that, Eledore looked over to Shiro. "What about you Commander?" he asked, failing to notice the warning glances from the others. "Did you get any messages…from..."

Suddenly realizing what he was saying, Eledore quickly turned silent and looked away, a pained expression across his face.

For his part, Shiro retained his smile, but it now took on a sadder tone. "I'm afraid not," he answered simply. "But I imagine I would have received one otherwise."

With that, Shiro tapped off the deck and floated away, the group looking toward him sympathetically. All except Karen, who glared at Eledore. "Nice going dumbass," she snarled before striking him across the back of the head.

"I'm sorry!" Eledore shouted in defense. "I didn't mean anything by it!"

The group's attention now aimed toward tormenting the hapless musician/pilot, Shiro floated toward the end of the hangar unnoticed. All throughout, his hand remained placed against the all too controversial keepsake that hung from his neck, hidden underneath his uniform tunic.

Upon Noel tapping the conference room holoprojector, a three dimensional tactical image of the previous battle soon generated, with the Ark Royal placed at the center and the initial Zeon group in its previous position behind her. From there, the various officers watched as the battle then played out, with the Zeon pursuing the Ark Royal through space until the second group made itself known, decloaking and attacking from the carrier's front, at which point the Federation ship was forced to break off from its retreat and engage the force directly. And then the Medea taskforce appeared and opened up, to which the Zeon abruptly retreated themselves, apparently believing the four ships to be the front force of a much large Earth fleet.

Once the battle played out in full, Noel tapped the holoprojector again and reversed it to the midpoint of the battle, where the second group had just decloaked. Various lines and arrows then appeared, showing the vectors and advances of the Ark Royal, the Zeon and their various mobile suits. From there, Noel took a breath before continuing.

"As you can see, this was not a random encounter with the enemy," Noel summarized for the others. "The Zeon were not only fast in intercepting us, despite the limited time their scout ship would have had in tracking our course, but they were able to setup the perfect ambush," she then added conspiringly. "All with the direction and resources that are otherwise unavailable to most Zeon commanders."

She gestured toward the projection. "The enemy's strategy was simple but effective: sending an initial force to chase after us, placing us in a running battle, while the second force systematically moved in under cloak and cut off our path of retreat," she said. "For this, I estimate that, rather than there being one whole group in the beginning, the Zeon had deployed two completely separate taskforces from different areas of space and had them converge," she let that sink in. "A traditional pincer maneuver, in other words."

"Do we know what fleets they were affiliated with?" Mirai inquired.

Noel nodded. "This was gathered through estimation of either force's home base," she tapped the holoprojector again, switching the image out for a star map. "The second group was easy enough to identify, having deployed from nearby Badab II," she had the appropriate course plotted, all the way back to the highlighted world. "The first group, on the other hand…"

She had the image display that course as well, going back to the highlighted world as well.

Mirai took a breath. "Callax III," she identified.

"Headquarters of the Zeeks' Second Fleet," Sleggar summarized as well.

"Yes," Noel concluded as well. "And it gets worse."

She tapped the holoprojector again, causing the image to shift back to the battle. This time however, it zoomed in on the purple Zaku that Amuro had fought before, the image freezing upon it in mid-battle. At that, the Zaku was highlighted, causing a series of tactical screens to appear around the image so that everyone at the table could see it. The screens showed various images of the aforementioned Zaku in battle, as well as the elaborate knights' helm emblem on its side. This, in turn, was followed by the image and profile of its pilot.

"Dear god," someone at the table gasped, signifying the thoughts of all present. Even Bright and Sleggar looked visibly disturbed as they gazed upon the almost androgynous face upon the display, as well as the accompanying data.

Again Noel nodded grimly. "Admiral Garma Zabi," she exclaimed. "Commander of the Imperial Second Fleet himself."

So concentrated was the group on the image that nobody noticed Sleggar's face visibly darken. All the while the memory of a certain Valkyrie of Riah breaking off to engage Char played out in his mind.

"How can he be an Admiral?" Katz let out in shock. "He looks barely older than me!"

"Politics," Sleggar explained, causing all attention to shift to him. Beating back his thoughts over Sayla's prior actions, but resolving to see them explained, he elaborated on the present. "Garma Zabi was originally a Commander and one of the Zeeks' leading aces, as well as a close comrade of the Red Comet's."

Upon that point, Noel had a separate image of Aznable's Zaku, itself in mid-battle against Sayla's Gundam, brought up for all to see. "Both fought at Solomon together, among several other battles," Sleggar concluded, then nodding back at the knight's helm. "His kill number is somewhere in the tens or hundreds."

"He was certainly good enough to take our White Devil on," Ryu commented, glancing over at the frozen still of Unit Alpha.

Sleggar could only agree with that statement. "For the moment," he concurred.

This only made Mirai and several others more perplexed. "I still don't understand," the XO let out. "If he was such a great pilot, then why did they promote him up to fleet command?"

"Because, as Commander Law was hinting at, he's a Zabi," Noel said, switching the briefing back to her. "Mind you, this all comes from our intelligence, so take it for what you will."

She went on. "Following the death of the Sasro Zabi at the Battle of Riah…" she said, causing memories of that particular battle to become fresh amongst the gathered as well. "The Zeon High Command ended up falling into a period of turmoil and inner conflict, both from another member of the Imperial Family dying and from the new opening his demise presented. It's been claimed several upper echelon commanders were killed off in highly suspicious events before Emperor Gihren himself stepped in and called everyone back to order."

Noel then had the projector center on Garma's face again. "Eventually the original commander of Zeon's Second Fleet, Admiral Otto Eichmann, was selected to succeed Sasro's post. To fill the resultant void there, Gihren personally promoted Garma to Admiral and gave him command of the Second Fleet," she said. "It's been claimed that Garma himself chafed against his sudden elevation, as did Grand Admiral Dozle and Admiral Kycilia."

Bright nodded at the idea; he would have felt the same in Garma's position. However, that was not something to be worried about. "What's his record as a fleet commander?"

"Unremarkable at best," Noel explained. "Though he's obviously shown his competence as a mobile suit commander, as well as a taskforce commander in this instance, Garma has yet to distinguish himself at fleet level. As a result, most of the Second Fleet's more decisive actions have been carried out by his sub-commanders, though always with the Admiral's support."

"So basically," Ryu weighed in. "We're up against a clear victim of the Peter Principle. An extremely young commander that has neither experience nor grasp of fleet level tactics, and would otherwise have been left in charge of a mobile suit unit had he been anyone else."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Letz commented. "I mean, we faced Delaz at Juno, and Sasro before him, right? What's Garma compared to them?"

Mirai shook her head at that. "His tactical expertise isn't what makes him dangerous."

"No," Bright agreed. "It's his being a Zabi."

Just as Noel had done, Bright let that sink in before he continued. "We're now facing an opponent that can completely circumvent his military's bureaucracy and call upon any and all resources he wishes," he said. "An opponent that can directly communicate with Grand Admiral Dozle or Emperor Gihren himself if he so wishes."

Bright's eyes narrowed upon that otherwise immaculate face. "Even Delaz is nothing compared to this enemy."

Sleggar nodded at the thought. "And to make matters worse," he added. "He's taken a personal interest in us."

"Indeed," Bright concluded, then motioning for Noel to disengage the projector, which she did. The light returned to the room as a result. "Obviously things are going to get more complicated over the next few days," he started. "We're not only being hunted by Aznable now, but a member of the highest authority within Zeon."

Hearing that, Sleggar couldn't help but wonder what Sayla would have said about that claim. Ultimately though, he decided it was unimportant.

"With our current orders from High Command, we have no choice but to continue on our given course," Bright continued. "As such, our best bet is to evade Garma completely, unless we can somehow lure him into a fight on our terms."

At that, Bright reengaged the holoprojector, showing the star map again. "Once our resupply is complete, we will return to warp and proceed to the Azure Nebula," he said, highlighting the aforementioned nebula. "We will be effectively shrouded from Zeon sentries within, potentially allowing us to circumvent the Second Fleet's operational zone."

"Assuming we can navigate our way through the nebula," Katz commented, not at all looking happy at having to guide the ship through a giant sensor jamming dust cloud.

Bright nodded at the helmsman's hesitance. "It will be a difficult voyage, but not an impossible one," he said, then turning attention back to the projection. "Should we remain undetected by Garma's sentries, we will exit the nebula and continue on our stipulated course into the next sector. With any luck, the Zeon will never have realized our departure."

"And if our luck doesn't hold?" Sleggar questioned.

"Then we fall back on our second option," Bright said. "We find any means or advantage we can get and we take the fight back to the enemy."

A sense of foreboding fell upon the conference room occupants at that. None were under any illusions about their chances at taking on entire Zeon fleet. Much less one commanded by Emperor Gihren's little brother.

Letting that point stand, Bright turned toward Mora. "What's the status of the warp drive?"

Mora shook her head. "We've got it put back together mostly," she said. "Though I'd rather not find out how it would fair within a nebula."

"Neither would I," Bright admitted, resisting the urge to pinch his nose at the thought. "We'll proceed through the Azure at sub-warp only."

The chief engineer nodded. "Our engines should be able to hold up in that case."

"Good," Bright said, then looking over the rest of the table again. "Until then, we'll continue with present operations. Dismissed."

Upon that command, the officers all rose and departed from the conference room, either to resume their respective duties or return to their previous activities. Sleggar, being the last to leave, paused momentarily at the doorway, before taking on a more serious expression. Only when did he hold complete determination did he exit.

"Hello-o Amelia," Kai smoothly whistled as he looked over the image of his next girlfriend, in which the subject in question was spread across a bed of some kind in far too little clothing. "I see you've become quite the naughty one since we last parted…"

Resisting the urge to vomit at that exclamation, Hayato turned and fixed his comrade with an annoyed glare. It was the third time and counting Kai had exclaimed such to the rather numerous pile of datapads he had received from the Medea. "If you're going to keep doing that, can you please do it somewhere else?"

Putting down the image, Kai shook his head in seeming disappointment. "Hayato, Hayato…" he said. "We've gone over this before. Just because you're not into women doesn't mean you can act high and mighty to the rest of us."

"I'm not acting 'high and mighty'. I'm simply being annoyed," Hayato corrected, then glancing at the datapad pile with disdain. "And how can you have so many girlfriends anyway?" he questioned. "You're not exactly a Sanc prince."

Kai sighed, as if his friend were overlooking a key fact. "Contrary to what modern media will tell you, not all women go for pretty boys with nauseating amounts of prissiness," he explained. "Quite the contrary, most of them tend to go for people like me."

He then picked up another pad, smiling appreciatively at the contents. "Indeed, it pays to be a sociopath," he spoke in a near purr.

This only made Hayato feel even more sickened. "Do any of them know that you don't believe in monogamy?"

Kai shrugged. "I wouldn't know," he said. "But I imagine if they did, it wouldn't matter in the least."

"Right," Hayato replied, his gaze speaking volumes of belief. "It would just amplify your charm."

"Exactly," Kai answered, before picking up yet another datapad. "See Hayato? Even you can get things right once in a while."

"Whatever," Hayato shook his head in derision before turning back to his own datapad.

At that, Kai put his down and looked over at his friend for the first time. "On that note, who'd you get yours from?" he asked with some visible interest. "Could it be that you indeed have a lucky lady in your life?"

"If by 'lucky lady' you mean my mother, yes," Hayato said without looking back. "I don't suppose you have one of those, do you?"

Again Kai shrugged. "I was raised by the Church, remember?" he said, reminding his wingman of the simple fact. "Between Sister Georgette and the other penguins, I had a helluva lot more than one."

He then got up from his seat. "But let's not change the subject," Kai continued. "What's mom writing to her darling little boy on now?" he asked sardonically. "Were there cookies enclosed?"

"Just the usual report on the homefront," Hayato answered, pointedly ignoring the sarcasm. "Which is to say more or less the same."

Despite that claim, Kai looked over the letter contents. "'…in other news, Uncle Keiju's marriage continues to deteriorate, with Aunt Hitomi again threatening to take the kids and leave for Proxima Centauri…'"

Hayato yanked the datapad away. "For my eyes only Kai."

Despite that, Kai was unfazed. "I wouldn't worry about Uncle Keiju's predicament," he said simply. "If Aunt Hitomi were serious about leaving him, she would have gone a lot farther than Proxima Centauri."

"Thanks, I'll relay that back," Hayato replied dryly, then turning away completely.

Kai then considered his next question. "Anything in there about your dad?" he asked.

Hearing that, Hayato paused, a frown creeping into his expression. As much as he disliked the previous subjects, his father was not something he liked to talk about especially. "No," he said in near monotone, before looking back at the pad. "Not that I really expect him to write, given the circumstances."

"I see," Kai replied, pursing his lips. As much as he didn't want to do it, he knew he had to bring it up. "You know, I'm not one to talk about family problems, but you really should get that addressed someday."

Hayato resisted the urge to cringe, knowing what his comrade meant. "There's nothing wrong with the way my family operates," he countered. "Just because my father is away from home more than others…"

"Please," Kai shot back, not at all convinced. "Your family is a dysfunctional stereotype that goes back hundreds of years," he stated, beginning to summarize. "A strict disciplinarian father who is more into military service than anything else, a mom who, despite being caught in an otherwise loveless marriage, wouldn't divorce to save her soul, and you, Tadashi and Keiko being caught in the middle of it…"

"Is there a point you're trying to make Kai," Hayato stated, his voice now low and threatening. "Before I beat the hell out of you and throw you out an airlock?"

Kai merely shrugged again. "Just that your father complex is showing, and that it's not particularly healthy," he said, then looking Hayato over. "Not that the way you are now is healthy in itself."

The opposite Guncannon pilot sniffed at that. "So says the sociopath," he retorted, before looking back at the pad.

"Touché," Kai admitted, then returning to his own pile. "Just trying to look out for you man. Before the Zeeks or human frailty get to you."

"I can take care of myself," Hayato simply replied as he continued to read the message. Deep down however, he couldn't help but feel something inside him writhe at Kai's words.

"No kidding," Lieutenant Commander Nigel Garrett, commander of the 127th Mobile Suit Squadron "Warhounds", commented toward his fellow squadron leader while refilling his cup of coffee. "He actually said that?"

"Yeah, unfortunately," Lieutenant Commander Daryl McGuinness, commander of the 131st Mobile Suit Squadron "Gauntlets", let out in frustration as he recalled the contents of the message. "After months and months of deliberation, the bastard finally decided that he was straight after all."

Nigel could only shrug as he took a sip of the coffee, cringing slightly at how hot it was. "What can I say Daryl?" he spoke in a consoling voice, grasping his friend by the shoulder in reaffirmation. "Shit happens, especially in long-distance relationships."

"Isn't that the truth," Lieutenant Commander Watts Stepney, commander of the 213th Mobile Suit Squadron "Thunderbolts", added as well. "Just because you have alternate preferences doesn't mean you're exempt from breakups, my friend," he stated, before taking a bite of his doughnut. "They are universal, regardless of orientation."

"I know, but I thought this one would actually work out," Daryl replied as Nigel passed him another cup that he had just filled, to which the squadron commander nodded in gratitude. Staring into his reflection within the black liquid, Daryl's adopted a frown. "It's already bad enough that, even three hundred plus years into the Galactic Century, people like me are still a minority."

Both Nigel and Watts shared a furtive glance before responding to that one. "No offense Daryl," Nigel spoke evenly. "But humanity would be in a lot of trouble if your type was the majority."

Daryl blinked at that, before realization kicked in. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said with a wane smile. "So how about you two?" he asked. "What did the blessed Medea bring unto you from Colchis?"

Silence dwelled uncomfortably in response. To which Daryl had no choice but to concede. "Yes, I know that came out wrong."

Hearing that, Watts shrugged. "Just more alimony demands from my ex," he muttered. "Goddamn it…"

Daryl chuckled. "That's what you get for marrying that harpy, Watts," he chided. "And it wasn't like we told you not to."

"Us and half of Earth," Nigel pointed out. "I still want to know what the hell you were thinking."

"Heh," Watts dryly replied, not at all amused. "What I was thinking, Nigel, was that I going to get laid," he answered sardonically, before looking away. "What the hell was I supposed to care what happened afterward?" he nearly whispered.

At that, Daryl laughed full on. "Serves you right then, for not thinking it completely through," he exclaimed, before looking over to the other commander. "And you Nigel?" he inquired. "What's happening in that little island down under?"

Another uncomfortable moment. "I meant Australia dammit!" Daryl growled at the two.

"We know what you meant," Nigel answered, in a tone that showed he and Watts were pulling their comrade's leg. "And to answer your question, not too much. Family's still in Alice, Sydney's still a giant hole in the ground, and life goes on."

"Kids holding up okay?" Watts inquired.

Nigel nodded. "So far as I can tell," he said. "Though Joseph's developing an unhealthy fascination with mobile suits."

Daryl wasn't sure what to think about that. "Don't tell me he wants to be a pilot…"

"Hell no," Nigel laughed at the idea. "He wants to become an engineer and make the Federation's next generation suit."

"Dear god," Watts laughed as well. "I hope you put a stop to that."

Nigel seemed to consider it. "I don't know if I want to," he said. "I actually like his Jesta idea…"

"Jesta?" Daryl repeated.

"His prized creation," Nigel explained. "Designed specifically to kill Zakus and whatever the hell the Zeeks and their allies may throw at us."

"Nice," Daryl whistled. "You think he could get Anaheim to produce a few prototypes for us?"

Watts let out a 'heh' at the thought. "Not on your life," he exclaimed. "The way things are going now, we'll be stuck with Guncannons from here to Judgment Day."

Nigel shook his head at the thought. "Sad but true," he exclaimed. "Though I can't really knock the Guncannon. It's served us well throughout this damn war."

"Only because we're better pilots than most," Watts pointed out. "Imagine the kind of damage we could be doing to the Zeeks and the other Outers if we had suits that outpaced the Zaku."

"Actually, that shouldn't be too far off," Daryl said, as if recalling a certain fact. "I mean, isn't that what Project V's about? To create such a mobile suit?"

"Who the hell knows anymore," Nigel let out, inwardly shivering at the memory of Unit Alpha's performance at Juno not too long ago. "Personally, unless they make a more rudimentary version of the Gundam, I'll stick with my Guncannon Commander."

He shook his head at the image of Unit Alpha blowing up the Colony Laser in one shot. "Commander Law, Lieutenant Mass and Lieutenant Ray are welcome to those monsters," he exclaimed to the other two. "Because I can't imagine any of us mortals piloting them."

Also reimagining Unit Alpha's performance, as well as Unit Beta's and Unit Gamma's, Daryl and Watts could only nod in reluctant agreement. That in itself made the trio wonder what their CAG and resident Valkyrie were doing at this time, as none of them had seen either ace since the earlier battle…

"Talon One-One, Sky Eye, we have an unknown contact south bound. Your vector zero-eight-eight. Range two-five miles. Estimate five-zero-zero knots plus. Negative IFF. Check it out."

"Roger that, Sky Eye. Moving to intercept."

"Think they're fighters Slugger?"

"There's only one way to find out, Edge. Follow me in."

"Yoakai."

"Contact twenty left."

"Sky Eye, Talon One-One, we have radar contact. Requesting ID confirmation."

"Talon One-One, Sky Eye, we are unable to confirm. We need you to visually ID them. Your orders are to not fire unless fired upon."

"Roger that, Sky Eye."

"I have a visual on multiple bogeys. Repeat, five, no, six bogeys…"

"Sky Eye, Talon One-One, confirm contact as six Chinese Flankers. Repeat, six Sierra-Uniform-Three-Zeros, all heading across the Sea of Japan into Japanese airspace. Requesting orders."

"Talon, Sky Eye, we are relaying your situation to a higher command. Stand by for orders…"

"Talon One-One, Sky Eye, you are to warn them they are in dangerous proximity of Japanese airspace and they need to return to their native airspace immediately."

"Roger that, Sky Eye."

"Attention, Chinese pilots, you are in dangerous proximity to Japanese airspace and you must leave the area immediately! Lower your gear if you understand."

"I'm spiked!"

"Sky Eye, Talon, one of the bogies has acquired a missile lock onto my wingman! Requesting permission to engage!"

"This is Sky Eye. Negative! You are not to fire unless you are fired upon!"

"Slugger, get this bastard off me!"

"Hang in there! I'm on his six!"

"I can't shake him!"

"Don't give up Edge! You can make it!"

"Sam!"

"MEGUMI!"

All too abruptly Sleggar awoke and sat up, his eyes widened and his face broken into a cold sweat. Heart beating thunderously against his chest and his breathing coming out in sharp pants, it took him more than a few moments to calm himself down, to remember where, and when, he was. And, more importantly, to realize that it was merely a nightmare, albeit one that had plagued his sleep for as long as he could remember.

Blinking himself back into some level of stability, he again realized that he was in his, or more specifically the Commander, Assault Group's, office. This caused him to inwardly frown as he wiped the sweat off of his forehead; compared to his quarters, the office was somewhat more spartan and less customized in order to promote military efficiency to whoever may enter, with only the Guncannon model on his desk breaking up the militarized monotony. Had it been several hundred years ago, Sleggar couldn't imagine this type of space being any different, beyond one obvious alteration: that the pictures adorning the walls and the models on his desk would have depicted aerospace fighters and seagoing aircraft carriers rather than mobile suits and spacefaring warships. Overall, it still amazed him how little had changed from the days of the Gipper.

That was when he at last heard the sound that had awakened him in the first place: his door buzzer going off for what had to be the second or third time. Again blinking himself back into focus, Sleggar remembered exactly who he had previously summoned. His frown deepening as he recalled the negative feelings on that particular subject, the CAG righted himself over his desk and adopted an uncharacteristically hardened gaze. However the next few minutes were about to go down, he knew that they wouldn't be pretty. "Enter."

At that, the door slid open, allowing Sayla to enter. For whatever exhaustion she herself held from the previous battle, the Gundam pilot showed no signs of fatigue as she moved before the desk, then standing at attention with eyes forward. "Sir."

Already Sleggar could tell something was amiss. Though he wasn't a Newtype, he could almost physically detect his subordinate's anger, as if she were radiating that emotion. Whatever had happened in the previous battle had enraged her, such that she had visibly gained little rest over the last few hours. There could be no question.

Obviously this only made Sleggar all the more inquisitive toward the truth. "We need to talk," he said as evenly as he could. "Off the record."

Understanding the underlying message, Sayla broke attention and brought her own eyes into her commander's. Already she could tell what this was going to be about.

"You surprised me this last fight," Sleggar began. "Out there, right in the middle of it, was a member of the Zabi family. One who was just begging to follow Sasro and old man Degwin into the afterlife," he spoke pointedly. "And you ignored him entirely."

He then adopted an expression of challenge. "Or are you going to tell me you didn't pick up on him?"

Exhaling from her nostrils, Sayla was quick to answer. "Garma Zabi's presence did not fail to register," she admitted. "I simply had other priorities."

"Right, the Red Comet." Sleggar summarized, then rising up and walking around his desk to face Sayla directly.

"In spite of whatever impression you may have of me and my 'lowborn' genetics, I'm not an idiot Sayla," he continued as he moved. "You've been hung up on Aznable ever since we fought him at Antillia, ever since you intercepted that axe blow for Amuro…"

He glared directly into his subordinate's sapphire eyes. "I want to know why."

Despite the inquisition behind her superior's gaze, Sayla did not flinch. "May I ask what relevance it is to you?" she asked in turn, knowing better than to try denying it.

"Everything," Sleggar stated up front. "I need to know I can trust you," he said. "And for that, you need to tell me everything."

This time, Sayla allowed some of her anger to show. "I do not need to tell you anything, Feddie," she shot back near venomously, the metallic accent of her race suddenly coming through. "I will confide in you only when I deem it necessary, and no more."

Sleggar could tell he was being talked down to, in a member of nobility would to an upstart commoner, complete with underlying threat of reprisal if said commoner did not recede. Needless to say, his already visible ire rose substantially. "Then you sure as hell better 'deem it necessary' Zeek," he stated with his own underlying threat. "Because if you expect me to go on knowing that you're keeping secrets from me…"

"My secrets are my own to keep," Sayla staunchly retorted. "And I see neither reason nor advantage in telling them to anyone," she said as she fixed her glare in return, making it perfectly clear that would be the end of it. "Not even you, Commander."

Sleggar opened his mouth to reply to that, but Sayla spoke first. "Now if you will excuse me, I have other duties…" she said, then turning around and beginning to walk out.

Now overcome with fury, Sleggar slammed his fist into his desk, causing a loud bang to erupt through the office. "Do NOT turn your back on me, Artesia!" he roared at the Zeon woman.

Both command and usage of her true name ringing through her ears, Sayla snapped around, murder now piercing through her gaze. Sleggar knew he was treading dangerous ground now, but he didn't care. He needed his answers. "Have I not stayed silent all this time!?" he bellowed. "Have I not kept your identity and your vendetta hidden from the Federation and everyone else!?"

Daring fate, the Commander marched forward until he was facing Sayla down again. From the corner of his eye, he saw her fingers flex, coming close to turning into fists. But again, he pressed on regardless. "I've more than earned my right to know everything," he said. "Especially if it pertains to the welfare and safety of this ship, her crew, and my goddamn pilots!"

Then, knowing full well he was past the point of return, he put all of his power into his glare. "So either you tell me everything, here and now," he said, his voice harsh and unyielding. "Or I end whatever arrangement we have between us!"

It was all or nothing now, Sleggar knew. Either the exiled princess would give into his demands, or she would take his threat seriously and act accordingly. At that, despite his physical fitness, Sleggar knew he was putting his life well on the line. Not only did Artesia Som Daikun retain all the genetically engineered physical superiorities of her race – perhaps even more so given that she was a member of the original Imperial Family – but she was also a powerful Newtype. And Sleggar knew full well what that entailed.

Indeed, as the Zeon Princess' fingers continued to flex in near violence, Sleggar could feel a certain pressure begin to build within. Not unlike the beginning of a hurricane, as whatever spiritual power the one before him possessed began to extend over him, a growing metaphysical shadow that gradually eclipsed his mind and soul. All the while his hand drifted ever closer to his sidearm…

And then, all at once, Sayla's eyes closed. Simultaneously, her hands softened as the storm receded from Sleggar's consciousness. When she opened her eyes again, they were softened back into passivity, though Sleggar didn't relax his own hand just yet. "You're right," she conceded, returning to her Terran accent. "You have earned your right to know, having safeguarded me for so long."

Hearing that at last, Sleggar softened his own gaze, his hand relaxing away from his holstered beam pistol. "Good answer."

He then marched back behind his desk and retook his seat. "Start from the beginning," he commanded. "Who is Char Aznable, really? And why is he so damn important to you?"

As he had half-expected it, the observation deck was pretty much clear of human presence. This suited Shiro just fine, as he didn't really want to be around anyone for the moment. Not that the exchange in the hangar deck had actually displeased him; quite the contrary, Shiro very much loved to hear other pilots and crewmembers talk about their friends and families back home, as more often than not it pleasantly reminded him of his own, when they were still alive of course. Rather, he simply wanted some alone time for himself, so when Eledore had made his gaff, he decided that had been the best time to make his exit. Besides, it was actually the general awkwardness that had been more discomforting than the aspiring musician inadvertently reminding him of his loss.

Now he was standing directly in front of the large center viewport, looking out over the space off the Ark Royal's bow. Unfortunately however, the view was severely obstructed out by the abundance of debris floating about, as well as the Medea's bulk as she remained attached to the Ark Royal's starboard arm. Shiro could see only a few stars as a result, but he could live with that. Once the mighty fleetcarrier returned to warp, the clear field of stars would return, albeit streaking by as the ship moved faster than light. In the meantime, he would simply enjoy the peace and tranquility of his immediate surroundings, from which he would be able to collect his thoughts. Namely those that had lingered with him for the longest time.

Subconsciously he undid the top seal of his uniform, then reaching his right arm inside. There, he withdrew the item that had been hidden underneath: an ornate pocket watch, kept to a chain around his neck. Up front one could tell that it wasn't any Terran design; the frame, which was colored silver, shone with a brilliance unseen on any metal Shiro had previously encountered, while the intricate gold lines symmetrically extended around it. At the top of the frame was the sculpted image of outstretched wings, not unlike those of a bird or an angel, as if the watch were about to take flight. And finally, as if to mark the watch's true originator, a grandly designed golden cross had been placed at the center of the watch face, while at the center of that was an image equitable to a Terran coat of arms. All of it belonging to a certain family of an equally certain empire.

For the longest moment, Shiro simply stared at the watch, observing as time gradually progressed across its face. Seconds passed by, as best indicated by the watch's hands, but for Shiro it seemed like hours. Such was the intensity inside of him as certain memories came to the surface, causing a myriad of emotions to emerge alongside them as their bearer recalled one event after another. All culminating into the image of a particular woman in a light blue Zeon normal suit, and the great uncertainty that Shiro felt whenever he pictured that woman beside everything he had grown to hate over the last two years. Everything that had driven him into fighting this war.

That being said however, Shiro wasn't so concentrated on the watch that he failed to hear the door open, admitting another presence into the observation deck. The Lieutenant Commander frowned as he looked up from the watch, but did not turn around. "I thought it was clear earlier that I wanted to be alone," he spoke to the newcomer.

Karen simply shrugged in response. "Just wanted to make sure Eledore didn't upset you too badly," she said. "He's an idiot, but he means well."

"Heh," Shiro let out, a smirk playing upon his lips. "He didn't upset me at all. I just felt that was the best time to leave," he replied as he replaced the watch and resealed his uniform. "Before things got too out of hand."

In spite of Shiro's best efforts, Karen saw the motion of his right arm and easily told what it was he had been holding. However, she knew it was not her place to say anything about that particular item, or everything else that it entailed, and so kept to the subject. "You know that's something I've never heard you talk about," she commented as she moved up to join him, her own gaze fixed upon the viewport. "Your family, and your life back on Hera."

Shiro considered that for a moment. "It's not like I'm uncomfortable talking about them," he said, wanting to end that assumption right away. "It's just that I can't talk about them to others without being pitied."

Karen frowned at this. "You're not the only one who's lost his family in this war Commander."

"Neither am I the only one who's lost his homeworld in this war," he countered. "The difference is I'm a lone survivor. Not only am I the last Heran, I'm also the last Amada."

He looked down a little upon that thought. "After a while, the pity and sympathy of others become more painful than the sorrow," he explained. "As if I need to be continuously reminded of what I've lost."

Karen nodded as she took all this in, imagining just how it felt to be the last of one's kind. "Well," she spoke up again. "I'd like to hear of them regardless, if you're alright with it."

For a moment, Shiro considered simply refusing and returning to his quarters to continue his isolation. However, deep down he knew that would not help him, and so decided to give in. "There's nothing much to tell," he began to explain. "Hera was still very much a colony world, having been settled for around less than a century or so. Only had one real city, and that was Eavesdown. The rest were just towns, outposts, farming villages or mining areas."

"I take it your family was stuck somewhere other than Eavesdown," Karen assumed, noticing her superior's disdain upon mentioning the latter group.

Shiro nodded in confirmation. "My family lived in a little town called Saffron," he replied. "Population: less than a hundred."

The Lieutenant let out a small chuckle at that. "With all due respect sir, I never imagined you as a backworlder."

"Unfortunately," Shiro answered, somewhat stiffly. "I swore I would get out of there first chance I got."

"Heh," Karen exclaimed, knowing full well how that felt. "And your family?"

Shiro thought for a moment, as if forcing the memories back to the surface. "Again, not much to tell," he began to explain. "My parents were just about what you'd expect from a rural family. My father, Kyoshiro, was a gruff, salt of the earth type that ran the local repair and refuel station, and my mother, Nagisa, was the natural housekeeper."

Again Karen chuckled. "That must have hurt, a lot," she said bemusedly. "Not only living in the boonies, but having parents that have embraced the lifestyle."

"Believe me, we had arguments," Shiro stated blandly, before continuing. "Beyond them, there were my two younger brothers, Eikichi and Ryuji, who were pretty much natural born pranksters and troublemakers, and my younger sister Azusa, who was more or less the stabilizer of the family," he couldn't but smile as more memories began to pour in. "Somehow she could end every argument and keep us all in line. Even my father would end up bowing off to her during the more heated moments."

The Lieutenant took all of this in. "How did they feel about you joining the military?"

"Pretty much what you would expect," Shiro replied. "My father was infuriated that I wasn't going to take up the 'family business', my mother was afraid that I'd end up getting killed," he visibly bit back the irony on the latter. "Eikichi and Ryuji thought I was a man among men, and Azusa said 'you better write us, or I'll go to Earth myself and beat you for it.'"

At that, a sad smile formed on Shiro's lips. "The last time I saw them was just before what was supposed to be the Battle of Hera," he said. "As luck would have it, my ship got called in for the defense, and I got to visit them one final time before the Zeon arrived."

Though it was barely traceable, Karen could hear the quiver in the commander's voice. "Despite everything they originally put me through, they were all proud to see me where the uniform, as well as to take part in defending them. Proud enough that we held a pre-victory party, because they all knew with me up there fighting…"

He then bent down and closed his eyes, biting back the tears that were threatening to flow. "Zeon would never take Hera, or the Amadas."

Silence fell from there as Shiro spoke no more, allowing Karen to understand the true depth of the commander's loss. She herself couldn't help but look away in remorse as his words continued to ring in her ears, highlighting upon her superior's barely constrained guilt. That, in spite of all manner of logic and obviousness, he had failed both his family and his homeworld when it mattered most…

The silence would have reigned for longer had it not been for the beeping of Shiro's wristcom. "Amada here," he answered dutifully.

"My apologies for disturbing you Commander," Astonaige spoke from the other end. "But we just got some equipment from the Medea that needs inspection, and Commander Law is currently indisposed."

Again inwardly sighing, Shiro quickly bit back the turmoil, thereby returning to his post as Deputy Commander, Assault Group once more. "On my way," he said, before terminating the comlink.

Receiving one final nod of confirmation from Karen, both pilots turned away and exited the observation deck, returning to the war once again.

"Well, shit," was all Sleggar could exclaim as Sayla's explanation sunk in, sinking back into his chair. It was all so surreal, as well as suspiciously sounding more like an anime plot twist than real life development. Such that it had to be true. "That certainly puts things in a whole new perspective."

Sayla sniffed at the exclamation. "You have a gift for the understatement, Commander," she replied sardonically, still rather cross that she had to explain more about her past and motivations, as well as the identity of the man she had been pursuing for so long, to an outsider. But as she realized before, Sleggar had done so much for her to this point that he more than warranted that explanation. Just as she knew the Earth officer would keep her secrets, as well as go out of his way to ensure they remained kept.

For his part, Sleggar could only shake his head at the whole thing. The idea that Char Aznable, Red Comet and Hero of Zeon extraordinaire, was in fact the exiled Prince Casval Rem Daikun, having returned to his homeland – and abandoning his last remaining family in the process - to infiltrate and destroy Zeon from within, was as sensible as it was unthinkable. Sensible in that it really was one of the most effective means toward the Daikuns' vengeance, seemingly advancing Zeon's cause so that one could grow close to the Imperial family and systematically destroy them while retaining the guise of the Empire's Finest. Unthinkable because, as he had previously highlighted, it seemed like a cliché vengeance plot – complete with the central character's face hidden behind a mask, which in Sleggar's opinion attracted more attention than anything else.

The idea alone caused him to rub his temples, all the while wondering just how much more this war, and as a side effect his life, could get convoluted. "Was that why you froze up at Antillia?" he continued.

Sayla nodded. "I detected his presence sometime before, but it was only when we clashed weapons that presence became apparent," she explained, almost in confession. "In complete honesty Commander, I never dreamed I would reencounter my brother in that manner."

"Yeah, I can believe that," Sleggar exclaimed sympathetically. He could only imagine what the woman in front of him was going through; having at last found her long lost elder brother, who had disappeared eleven years ago, only to find him on the opposite side of the battlefield as opposed to within the force they were to join together. It was certainly enough to piss the commander off inside, as if Sayla hadn't suffered enough from the deaths of her father and the rest of her family. Needless to say, he would have loved to encounter the errant prince in person, just so that he could deck him.

That's when another thought occurred to Sleggar. One that disturbed him even more. "If he's your brother, and you felt his presence before the attack," he began, almost hesitantly. "Does that mean…?"

The Commander didn't need to continue, as Sayla could already tell what he was getting at. "Yes, he's a Newtype as well," she confirmed.

"Great," Sleggar admonished, now even less confident. The last thing anyone – Federation, Zeon or otherwise - needed was a maverick Newtype in the middle of a war. As if Project V wasn't bad enough by itself. "His rating?"

"N-IV, like myself," Sayla answered straightforwardly. "Though I couldn't tell you which of us is the more powerful."

"Trust me, that's not a bet I'd want to take," Sleggar replied before rising from his chair and moving off to the corner, hands clasped behind his back as he attempted to force down his exasperation. Behind him, Sayla remained where she was, but the Commander could almost feel her eyes remain locked upon his back.

Obviously this complicated everything. Before Aznable had simply been another enemy pilot to shoot down; granted, he was arguably Zeon's best pilot, but still a simple enemy that Sleggar and the rest of the 13th were obligated to kill. Now however, he was much, much more. Now he was a wild card, a threat to the Zeeks as much as he already was to the Federation, completely unpredictable in both motive and actions. The kind of unstable element that could be just as beneficial to the Ark Royal's situation as it could be dangerous. And Sleggar did well to keep in mind all the Earth ships and mobile suits the Red Comet had slew to this point, which had nearly included the Ark Royal herself not too long ago.

Even so, he could not dismiss the fact that Aznable, for all accounts and purposes, was in a far more advantageous position to kill the Zabis than Earth was at this time. It was mollifying to even consider, but the Red Comet could be a potential tipping point for the war, striking off the head of the snake, as it were, while the Federation and the rest of the Inner Powers took care of the body. Surely if that didn't end the war straight away, it would at least cause irreparable to Gihren's Littlest Empire, wouldn't it?

It made sense in context. After all, the Zabis were the main motivational factor for the war in the first place, the other Outer Powers' contentions with the Inners notwithstanding. Take them out of the picture and Zeon, without clear leadership from the throne, would either be more willing to negotiate an end to the war or would be so caught in the inevitable conflict of the Zabis' followers, namely the other Houses, making claims to said throne that the good guys would have little difficulty taking advantage and reversing the war's current course. And then there was always Aznable - no, Prince Casval - himself laying claim to the throne which, if the Daikuns' past attitude was any indication, he would be quick in ending hostilities himself and gradually return Zeon, and the rest of the galaxy by extension, to pre-war conditions.

Sleggar sighed inwardly. It was all wishful thinking at best and he knew it. And much more, it didn't answer the dilemma of what to do with the Comet in the meantime, as the latter was hunting their ship with the rest of Garma's troll horde.

For that matter, there was one other question that remained unanswered. "So, now that you've finally tracked down your evil twin," Sleggar started without turning to face Sayla again. "What are you going to do now?"

Exhaling through her nostrils, Sayla adopted a frown at the question. "I do not know Commander," she exclaimed. "I originally planned on transferring to my brother's unit once I found him," she answered, frown deepening. "Obviously that's not an option now."

"Quite," Sleggar said, only then turning around. "I don't suppose you've considered joining him on the other side."

Though Sleggar did well to keep it out of his vocal tone, Sayla could still detect the underlying accusation, to which she answered with a disdainful glare. "I have no wish to join Gihren's Zeon, no matter what advantages it may provide," she exclaimed, visibly disgusted at the mere suggestion. "Casval made his choice, and I made mine."

Sleggar nodded, though the hardness remained in his next statement. "And what will you do if and when you encounter him again?" he inquired. "Especially in a critical situation."

The younger ace's eyes narrowed. "My current objective is to protect this ship and its crew, as well as my immediate comrades within Shrike Squadron and the rest of the 13th," she answered straightforward. "Therefore, if it is required of me, I will fight him again."

The Commander's own eyes narrowed in return, taking note of Sayla's choice of the word 'fight', as opposed to a certain other. However, he decided that was adequate enough. "Very well," he spoke simply, before retaking his seat. "That will be all Lieutenant."

"Sir," Sayla straightened up and saluted before turning to march out the door.

Before she reached it however, Sleggar spoke up again. "Sayla," he called out, halting his subordinate. "As much as I sympathize with your position and your agenda, this better not happen again," he warned, directly and without room for argument. "Our arrangement only works as long as we are both forthcoming to each other."

His gaze then narrowed to the point of boring into the Lieutenant's back. "You will do well to keep that in mind."

From there, a brief moment of pause entered in as that ultimatum remained between them. And then, without any further response, Sayla exited through the sliding door and disappeared back into the outside corridor.

At last having food in his stomach yet remaining restless, Amuro had spent the last hour or so wandering through the ship trying to find something to do. By now the Medea's resupply was just about complete, but much of the Ark Royal's crew, as well as his fellow pilots, remained off duty or otherwise occupied, leaving the young ace to his own devices. Even now, Amuro found it ironic that he had been the, rather uncomfortable, center of attention only a few hours before, and that a fair portion of the ship had been in celebration. Now it seemed to be near the opposite, with most of the crew retaining to themselves and Amuro, while now being treated as a comrade and an actual member of the 13th, being otherwise ignored yet again.

Not even his usual options toward spending the early morning were available. For a time, he had considered finding Sayla again and having another Newtype session on the observation deck, but eventually decided against it. He didn't know what had happened during her battle with Aznable, but Amuro knew Sayla well enough that he could tell when she was displeased, Newtype powers notwithstanding, and so decided to give her some distance, albeit with rather more reluctance than he would have expected. And as for Fraw, she had returned to sickbay right after their dinner together, where she was currently treating crewmen that had been wounded from the previous battle. Thus, for all account and purposes, Amuro really was alone again.

That isolation had soon placed him in his current whereabouts. After spending unknown amounts of time free roaming the ship, the young Lieutenant found himself returning to the hangar deck. Due to the majority of Astonaige's group being focused on the resupply, most of the mobile suits were otherwise left unoccupied, standing silently along the sides of the deck like empty suits of armor in an ancient castle on Earth. Once he reached his Gundam, he had touched off from the deck and floated upward, where, after some adjustment, he managed to come to a halt directly in front of Unit Alpha's articulate face.

Staring into the inactive golden eyes, Amuro again wondered exactly how he felt toward the mobile suit, which, among its other effects on the war, had seen him rise to a level of relative prominence within the Federal Forces. In the beginning he had hated the Gundam; as far as he had been concerned, Unit Alpha had been forced on him by his father and his insistence that he take part in Project V. That hatred remained even as he committed to his role as the Gundam's test pilot, performing his role as adequately as he could, but only to the extent that he would move onto his original career once the Project was completed. It had only festered further when Commander Law and Captain Noa had shanghaied him into becoming Unit Alpha's "official" pilot and an equally "official" member of the Ark Royal's mobile suit contingent, essentially forcing Amuro into the war that he had wanted no part of for so long.

Now however, that hatred seemed like a distant memory, replaced with a feeling of uncertainty toward the prototype mobile suit. While Amuro couldn't tell exactly how he personally felt toward the prospect of piloting the Gundam, he knew it was an important function, for lack of better and less understated description. As much as he didn't like the attention he gained as the White Devil, he knew that his going joining the fight had indeed tipped the scales against Zeon and its allies; not enough to change the war for the better, but definitely enough of a first step toward it. Juno had been evidence enough of this, as according to the After Action Reports, Amuro had ended up all but completely decimating the Zeon fleet himself before he made his now (in)famous run on the Colony Laser. Who knew how many more battles the White Devil would have that effect on? How many more worlds would he save or, in Juno's case, avenge against Zeon's onslaught?

How many families will I be able to save or avenge with them? Amuro thought, remember the fate of Fraw's parents, which also seemed like a distant memory now. Overall, while he did not know how he personally felt, toward Unit Alpha, himself or his current position, he could not, or more specifically no longer, deny his place within the Galactic War. That he, a once undistinguished youth whose only uniqueness was an inherent passion and knowledge toward all things technological, had presented hope - for whatever ignorance he himself retained toward that particular word – for victory.

"So," an unfamiliar, highly feminine voice suddenly spoke up from behind. "This is the legendary Gundam that I've heard so much about."

At that, Amuro turned and nearly paled to see Commander Ajan float up beside him, her own eyes looking toward Unit Alpha's faceplate, and then the faceplates of Unit Beta and Unit Gamma, which were standing on either side of it. "Never thought the galaxy's last hope would take the form of three extremely particular mobile suits," she continued. "Piloted by three extremely particular characters."

"Ma'am!" Amuro let out as he automatically snapped to attention, not at all knowing how to respond to the commander's intrusion. Much less the fact that he may have just been insulted.

Ajan let off a bemused grin in response. "At east Lieutenant, before you hurt yourself," she commanded, before adding with further bemusement. "I promise I won't bite."

Suddenly realizing how stupid he looked, Amuro returned to his casual state. In turn, Ajan chuckled at the mildly younger man's demeanor, much to his annoyance. "I have to admit, when I heard of the White Devil that's been tormenting Zeon as of late, you're not exactly what I pictured him to be."

"I get that a lot," Amuro replied dryly, now feeling more put off than anything else. Again he wasn't sure if he should have been talking to a Lieutenant Commander in that manner, but after getting jumped on and laughed at like that, he no longer cared. "I suppose you're going to say you thought I looked like Maikel Jang?"

"Hardly," Ajan retorted, recalling one of the more famous, and pretty boyish, holo actors of the present day. "But I did think you would be a bit taller, perhaps more vicious looking as your epithet implied."

She then looked Amuro over, and grinned approvingly at what she saw. "Not that I have any problems with how you turned out."

Newtype senses ever present, Amuro didn't fail to pick up on the interest within the commander's gaze, as well as the not-so-subtle picturing of him out of his uniform. He resisted the urge to scowl in further annoyance. "I'm glad I don't disappoint," he again spoke dryly.

Again Ajan chuckled mildly. Truth be told she was already spoken for, but that didn't stop her from enjoying the sights when they presented themselves, and it helped that Lieutenant Ray was just her type. Besides, it wasn't too long ago when she had been the same rank as him; had things been different, she would have gladly dated him. Perhaps even helped him past his awkwardness in the best way she knew of.

But alas… she thought with some disappointment, before choosing that moment to move on. "Anyway Lieutenant," she said as she withdrew a datachip from her greatcoat, then handing it toward Amuro. "I've been ordered to deliver this to you personally."

Though somewhat hesitant, Amuro took the pad. "What's this?"

Ajan shrugged. "The contents are for your eyes only," she answered. "Though I believe it has to do with Project V."

Amuro sighed. What now Dad? he thought. It couldn't be from anyone else.

Ajan only went on from there. "Also, and this comes from the sender," she spoke, somewhat unevenly. "You're not to open that right away."

Amuro looked up in clear confusion at that, to which Ajan continued. "According to the source, you are only to open it after a specific event."

"Really," Amuro exclaimed, looking back at the datachip. "And what time what 'event' would that be?"

"I'm sorry," Ajan apologized. "But I wasn't told."

Of course not. Amuro thought, then shaking his head. "Alright, I'll hold onto it until…whenever."

"Very good," Ajan replied, before looking at her chronometer. "I'll return to my ship then," she said, then turning to float back to the deck.

Before she reached far however, Amuro spoke up again. "Commander Ajan," he called out, to which the transport captain turned around as soon as she landed. Then, willing himself up with some visible effort – all the while not even knowing why he was going this far for a complete stranger - Amuro saluted. "Thank you."

Again smiling and nodding approvingly, as well as knowing how much it had taken for the Gundam pilot to do that much, Ajan returned the salute. "You're welcome Lieutenant," she answered warmly. "Good luck out there."

Remaining where he was, Amuro could only watch as the captain floated away, moving past some onlooking techs as she went. Once she was at last out of his sight, he turned and looked at the datachip in his hand, again wondering what exactly his father had recorded for him. And even more so, what 'event' needed to occur before he could unseal it…

"It seems so close on this," Mirai commented as she looked over the starmap, which continued to display the Ark Royal's assigned course toward the eponymous Odessa Sector. Indeed, against the span of the quarter galaxy, it seemed liked a short distance from their current position. "Like it would take a single warp jump to reach it."

"Technically it could, though we would end up burning out our engines," Bright pointed out, also observing the star map and feeling the same forebodement as his XO. "And we would be arriving well ahead of the fleet."

Mirai frowned at that idea. Bad enough they were already alone, as well as expected to continue on that way. "As much as it galls me to admit it, Sleggar's right," she exclaimed almost despairingly. "This is a suicide mission."

"Now now, none of that," Bright lightly admonished, going against his own doubts in the process. "While I admit I would rather we were still returning home, it's not like we haven't survived worse," he pointed out. "And it's not like we will be entirely isolated."

"So long as we retain a supply line at least," Mirai replied. "But how long will that last, especially when we move deeper into enemy territory?"

Bright shrugged. "We'll manage as we've done up to this point," he said. "Once we've evaded Garma, it should be easier for us," he stated, as if it were solid fact. "We'll be able to engage the enemy on our choosing once more."

"Assuming Aznable doesn't come after us again," Mirai pointed out in turn.

"He'll have to find us first," Bright replied, continuing to observe the star map. "That's a lot of space to search through, especially for one ship."

Mirai retained her gaze as well, imagining the vastness it reflected. "Perhaps," she conceded, to a point at least. "At the same time however, that's a lot of enemy occupied space, and we could be facing additional pursuit from virtually any vector."

Bright smirked at the counterpoint. "Touché," he exclaimed. "We'll simply deal with it as we continue along," he continued, then choosing that time to disengage the holoprojector, returning his office back to proper lighting as well. "'Crossing the bridge when we come to it' as the saying goes."

"While dealing with our more immediate problems, which we seem to have no shortage of," Mirai summarized.

"We never do," Bright replied, suddenly starting to feel the exhaustion creep up on him. In lieu of stretching his limbs, he leaned back a little to head it off.

Something about this act must have tipped Mirai off, as a flat smile folded across her lips. "When was the last time you slept, Captain?"

Bright sighed. "Too long ago," he exclaimed. "And short of a direct order from Admiral Revil himself, probably longer still."

"I know how you feel," Mirai replied, allowing herself to stretch to show her own fatigue. "I doubt Ryu or Sleggar have been getting much rest either. And I know Mora certainly hasn't."

"Which won't do the Ark Royal any good in the long run," Bright pointed out, then musing. "When did the officers of this once proud vessel turn into a collection of insomniacs?"

Mirai pretended to recall. "I believe since High Command put us on that so-called 'milk run' to Antillia," she replied dryly. "Claiming the Zeeks would not be onto us I might add."

"Indeed," Bright said, smiling at the irony. "I suppose we can all have a good rest after the war is over."

"Or we can find a nice resort world to take shore leave on along the way," Mirai added, somewhat sardonically. "I hear Maui is nice this time of year."

"Heh," Bright let out. "Something to consider at the least," he answered, despite the obvious sarcasm. "Assuming there is, in fact, such a world along our way that Zeon and the other Outers haven't destroyed or occupied."

"All ye of little faith Captain," Mirai chided. "As you said, that's a lot of space out there."

Bright considered that phrase as he took a sip of water. Funny how there doesn't seem to be enough for everyone.

Suddenly, the comm. on Bright's desk beeped active. "Bridge to Captain Noa."

Bright tapped the comm. "Noa here."

"We just received word from the Medea," Kikka reported. "They've finished the resupply and are preparing to break away."

Bright nodded at this. At any rate, we won't be going back into the fight underarmed. "Very well. Commander Yashima and I are en route." he said, before terminating the comm.

Nodding one final time toward his XO, both officers rose from their seats and proceeded back to the bridge.

Federation Plattsburgh-class transport Medea
Shoal Zone

Settling back into her command chair, Ajan casually listened as her station heads reported that all systems were set; that the Medea was ultimately ready to take to the stars again. Once the final report came in, that being her comm. officer establishing that the Ark Royal was also ready for their breaking away, Ajan nodded in confirmation. "All engines reverse," she commanded. "One quarter."

With a short tremor that erupted throughout the ship, the Medea unlatched itself from the larger Ark Royal's bow, its connector tube then retracting while the appropriate hatch closed to seal it. From there, it reversed a little more into the distance, which in turn granted the bridge crew a spectacular final view of the great carrier. Looking it over it herself, Ajan couldn't help but feel somewhat envious. The Lexington-class really was a majestic design, far more than her glorified cargo drum could ever hope to be. That being said however, she and her ship still played an important role within the Federal Forces, one that she took more than enough pride in performing.

"May the stars continue to steer you," Ajan whispered to the great titan of a starship and the crew within her hull. Where they were going, they really would need all the luck they could get. Even so, despite all that was stacked against them, Ajan had a feeling that this wouldn't be the last time she would see the Ark Royal, much less deliver vital supplies to her.

"Engineering reports warp drive is ready," her XO spoke up once more as he read over his holoprojected monitor. "Sussex, Brooklyn and Aoba are waiting for our word."

Ajan nodded once more, taking one final glance toward the Ark Royal as it continued to recede into the distance. After that, she readjusted her commissar cap. "Set course for Bhatan," she commanded at once. "Maximum warp."

Federation Lexington-class fleetcarrier Ark Royal
Shoal Zone

"May the stars guide you," Bright whispered as he watched the Medea and her escorts turned away toward the horizon. A moment later, their warp engines engaged, one after the other, propelling the four ships to beyond light.

Once the last of the group, the Brooklyn, flashed into warp, Katz spoke up. "Helm is at your command, sir," he reported dutifully, almost eagerly.

Taking note of the rapt attention that was now upon him, Bright settled back into his chair before nodding. "Commander Yashima, if you would please."

"Aye sir," Mirai replied, before looking toward Katz. "Set course for the Azure Nebula," she stated. "Maximum warp."

With that, the Ark Royal came about and engaged her own warp engines, propelling into the distance herself. Where she, and those who crewed her, would go onto fight the war once again.