Chapter 6

23.12.0093 UC. 11:33 EOST

After the speech had been compressed and encrypted, the coordinates for our location had been attached. It was then transmitted to the approved list of Neo Zeon ships. That took the initiative squaring out of our hands and all there was to do was wait. For the most part.

Deciding that having the fleet simply hovering over the wrecked Pezun wasn't exactly tactically sound, I ordered the ships to move behind the largest remaining section of Pezun, the flying saucer part aka Pezun major. Along with the fact that there was what appeared to be a sizeable portion of the internal components of the asteroid base still intact, even if most of the corridors further towards the edge of Pezun Major often came to an abrupt collision with the vacuum of space, it turned out to be the best place to lay low in the area.

During the first day of our wait at Pezun, I had ordered a scout team to search the asteroid piece, looking for usable salvage. They found some useful parts that were in good enough condition to be used by the fleet but it looked like nothing major would be found. Until now. A sealed chamber in the north of Pezun major had been found by one of the scout teams. Since we didn't have access to even the Principality era maps of Pezun's interior, it was anyone's guess as to the chamber's contents. I had the Lindra run several scans of the northern area and had been able to determine that the chamber wasn't filled with radiation. And the walls of the chamber didn't have any lead in them that the sensor's could pick up, so the scans were accurate.

The finding of the chamber had caused a lot of talking about how to proceed. Some, like Captain Dawson and Acting-Captain Monroe, were in favor of opening the chamber immediately. Their theory was that it was some sort of depot that had been sealed up before the destruction of Pezun back during the Titan Conflict. Others, mainly Commander Yoshida and Chief Engineer Oshikawa, said that there was a high possibility that the chamber was empty and furthermore that we ran the risk of triggering a booby trap should we open the chamber. It was a vibrant discussion, mainly centered on whether opening the chamber would end up being for the ultimate benefit of the fleet.

In the end, the decision fell to me as the new leader of Neo Zeon. So an extra team of technicians accompanied the next scout party sent out.

From the regular radio communiques they sent back to the Lindra, the doors they were cutting through would require longer than predicted. That was ...about twenty minutes ago judging by the old fashioned digital analogue clock on my desk.

Unfortunately, both sides of the debate had united to shoot down my proposal of overseeing the opening of the chamber personally. Too great a risk they had parroted to me. Understandable, although I did not appreciate staying still for this long: I hadn't been able to leave the ship for much more than adding my Geara Doga to the mobile suit patrols along with the occasional simulation practice. For the most part I was back to doing paperwork, reading reports and scheduling patrols around the debris field.

Brrinnnnng! The phone on my desk rang.

Grateful for the distraction, I stopped writing and picked up the phone using my free hand. "Full Frontal here."

"This is the Lindra sir. The investigation team has breached the chamber doors. They are requesting a direct line to you. They say they found an item, several items really."

Finally! Something interesting! I cleared my throat before speaking. "Put them through please."

"Very well sir. Please hold." The crewmember from the Lindra responded. A trio of beeps from the phone's speaker that signalled the line being transferred over to the investigation team's comm line. Then as noticeable *click* as a connection was established.

"Investigation Team reporting sir." A voice came over the line, crackly in its quality. No doubt due to the metal and rock of the asteroid between us and them.

"You say you have something important to inform me of?" I asked.

"Yes sir. We've opened the doors of the chamber. It's not empty." The voice said. "It has mobile suits in it. Weapons and Munitions too."

I froze in surprise before my thoughts caught up with what I had been informed of.

"How many?" I asked, command running through my tone. "What's their condition?"

"Five sir." The speaker replied. "They look to be factory condition from where we are standing. We haven't entered the chamber proper and are only working off what our lights allow us to see. How do you want us to proceed?"

"Do not move from your current position." I ordered. "I will be coming down there personally with additional manpower to oversee this."

"Yes sir." The phone clicked again and the line went dead. Reaching over to press the line that reconnected me with the Lindra, I waited a few more seconds before Dawon's droll voice came over the line. I gave him a run down of what had been reported to me, and had him divert two shuttles and their crews to Pezun Major.

Changing the phone line back to the local ship circuit, I connected to the mobile suit hanger. "Hello, Mechanic McCanson?... Please prepare my mobile suit for launch...Thank you, I'll be there shortly." I replaced the phone in its holding and left my desk. Changing into a pilot's suit, an older model by the looks of it, that had been scrounged up for me, I headed down to the mobile suit hanger.

After a quick trip to the center of the fleet, I grouped up with the additional shuttles and then landed in one of the remaining entrances to the inner depths of the asteroid part. When the space tightened up and prevented further travel with my mobile suit and the shuttles, the lot of us, myself and the twenty from the shuttles, dismounted and used jetpacks to head towards the investigation team, using military grade flashlights, attached to our belts, to light the way and using the beacons planted by the investigation team.

"Ah Sergeant Tass. Good so see you." I greeted the man in charge of the investigation team as I landed on the dilapidated metal floor, my jetpack powering down. The corridor around us was very well light and not needing my flashlight, I flicked it off

Tass threw me a salute in response. "Sir! As ordered we have not approached the mobile suits or conducted a further examination of the room."

The rest of the additional support team formed up with the investigation team.

"Were you able to determine the reason this room was sealed up?" I asked Tass.

He pointed up to the upper mechanisms of the chamber's door. "Best as the techs could tell, a concussive force of some kind threw the gears off."

"And since they were already in a closed position, this rendered the door inoperable." I finished.

"Yes sir. It also required the use of that plasma drill we borrowed from one of supply ships." Tass gestured to the rough rectangle that had been cut in the door, wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

"I'm sure that ship will be glad that their drill returned in working order." I quipped before gesturing to the hole. "Now let's go inspect these mobile suits you've uncovered."

"Keep close and be on the look out for traps." Tass told his team, before they filed through the rectangular hole and into the chamber. The rest of the troops right behind them, with me in the middle. My field of view was briefly obscured by the melted metal before I exited the tunnel/door and went into the dim lights of the chamber. A soft orange glow lit the area, the result of the emergency lights most likely. The group turned on our flashlights and sent beams of light powered LEDs lancing through the murk. The harsh beams highlight the profiles of a group of mechanical giants, their inactive optics seeming to glare at us, the intruders disturbing their crypt.

A loud "Oh Fuck!" from one of the technicians drew our collective attention. The woman who had uttered the curse was staring directly above was looking at a corpse, wearing a normal suit, floating through the spotlight her torch cast on the ceiling.

Immediately the group directed additional light to where the tech's own light and the ceiling around it. More muttered curses. More bodies clad in normal suits floated around. Working off a growing hunch, I turned around and directed my flashlight over the chamber's door. Sure enough it was riddled with bullet marks and the marks of detonated high explosives. Guess we know what caused the door to lock into place.

Pointing to two soldiers, I started handing out orders. "You two, go up there and search for identifying marks on their uniforms." I turned to the technicians. "Go and search for the generator for this area, try and get it back to life. Sergeant Tass will accompany you." The huddle of technicians moved off while Tass saluted me before moving with them.

"As for the rest of you, sweep this room. There is still the possibility that traps laid by the previous occupants exist and are active. Stay off the ground and use your jetpacks." I ordered the remainder of the soldiers present. I stayed at the makeshift entrance.

The soft hum of a jetpack from above me signalled the return of the two soldiers who were searching the floating corpses. They had one of the bodies with them.

"Sir!" The one on my left snapped out, his free hand saluting me. I returned the salute. "We think you want to see this." Clearly they meant the body.

I obliged and stepped over to examine the clearly old corpse. The body was encased in what, despite first looks, seemed to be a pilot suit, not a normal suit. Makes sense as there were a group of mobile suits in this hangar, if a fight broke out then the suit's pilots, unable to launch or enter their machines, would run a high chance of being gunned down.

Due to the lack of solar radiation stripping away the color of the normal suit, I was still able to discern its original color: dark navy blue with hints of red on the helmet and the edges of the suit. Turning the body so that its front was facing me, the grisly cause of death became apparent to me. The faceplate of the suit's helmet had been caved in, by a bullet no doubt, and the face of the person wearing it had been pulverized as a result. Dried blood and tough bites of bone and brain clung to the inside of the helmet. A macabre sight indeed. Looks like my crypt comment turned out to be apt indeed. I suppose that made the mobile suits the guardians of these dead. I then rotated the old corpse over a bit more, so that the side of the helmet was under the light and the insignia painted on its dark surface revealed.

The insignia was a stylized version of a soaring hawk, or an eagle, colored in a bright yellow that stood out even now. The hawk was divided into two pieces, the body and wing, and was superimposed on a red background with a border of light blue containing the whole work. It was such a distinctive insignia that I didn't need to read the red "Titans" that was put on the white stripe above the hawk. But I did anyway.

The taste of bile coated my tongue and I snarled, "Titans" to the two soldiers before me. A group that committed the exact same sadistic and unforgivable actions that made Gihren Zabi a feared name in the Earth Federation. Several massacres of protesters, colony gassing to cover up the massacres, human experimentation. All in the name of maintaining their grip on power in the Federation and spreading their beliefs of Earthnoid supremacy. At least Gihren was waging a war. Not that it's a much better excuse.I pushed the corpse away and sent it limply tumbling back into the chamber.

The soldier who hadn't spoken previously spoke up. "Looks to be that way sir. There's also this on some of the bodies." He held out a patch of fabric. I examined it. The patch bore the emblem of the EFSF on it.

"Found a couple more of those on the rest of those bodies up there, didn't see any Titan markings on those." The other soldier piped up.

"Looks like this lot fell to infighting." I mused. "Guess some cowards didn't want to go down with the ship. Pathetic."

Turning my attention back to the wider chamber/hanger, I saw men and women examining the mobile suits. Judging by the concentrations of light, there were five of them just like Tass had guessed. Now that our lights were on them, their model and colors became clear. Three of the suits bore the same dark navy blue which matched the colors of the dead. The other two suits seemed to lack paint altogether, either that or someone really like the color of gunmetal grey. What interested me about the two grey suits was the peculiar, flared rear of their heads.

Calling over one of the technicians, I asked if power could be restored to this room. The technician said the original generators had been destroyed, probably in the same fighting that jammed the door shut. Nodding in response, I sent the technician to help out with the mobile suits.

Heading back out through the rectangular hole, I grabbed the radio and keyed up the Lindra.

"This is Full Frontal. Dispatch any available mobile suit workers to Site A13, five mobile suits have been discovered." I eyed the intact door. "And have them bring a bigger plasma cutter this time."

The operator confirmed my order and asked where the suits would be stored.

"Prepare the berths in the Kalt for the suits." I ended the transmission, and gazed up at the door. If nothing else, this was a stark example of what happens when the unity of purpose among a group fails: chaos and death for everyone involved. A lesson that Zeon never learned, much to its detriment time and time again.

Later

After returning from Pezun Major, I had not returned to the Claxon. Instead, I had gone on a patrol through the debris field. Due to latent radiation and the debris of the Pezun debris field, the fleet's scanners didn't have the greatest range into it. Normally it wouldn't be that big of a problem for a Neo Zeon fleet but because Pezun Major was at the edge of the field, on the side away from the Earth Sphere, we wouldn't have a scanner image on any ship approaching our position until it was roughly halfway through the field.

So a tighter patrol schedule was necessary and with our current mobile suit corp numbering a grand and impressive total of eight, I didn't really get a say in what patrols I drew for. I mean I could if I wanted to but that would just be petty and an improper use of my authority.

At least it gave me some thinking time. And the sight was nice.

As my patrol exited the debris field and sent the following patrol on their way, I circled over to the Kalt, another of the three Endra-class cruisers in the fleet. The cruiser was where the recovered Titan mobile suits had been taken too after they and the various weapons and munitions that had been sealed in with them had been liberated from the tyranny of a very thick metal door.

I comm'd the bridge to get permission to land in the cruiser, and after permission was granted I killed the thrust of my suit and used inertia to glide into the Kalt's rear facing MS catapult, using vernier to correct course when needed. In a very tangible way, those patrols I took part in helped me learn the ins and outs of handing a AMS-119C Geara Doga to an even greater extent, giving more first hand experience to enhance raw talent and -much as I don't like to admit it- programmed instinct.

Powering down the reactor, I exited the cockpit. I told the deckhands to refuel it before using my jetpack to ascend to the MS hanger proper. There I was met by a familiar face, Chief Engineer Oshikawa.

"Should I be worried about the Lindra's reactor going critical without you watching over it Chief Engineer?" I jokingly asked as I landed next to the older man, tugging my normal suit helmet off as I did so. The catapult doors had been shut after I landed.

"I trained the monkeys I work with well sir. She's in good hands if not as good as mine." Oshikawa replied, staring up at the navy blue mobile suit he was at the base of. It, just like everyone of the recovered suits, had its cockpit opened and had deckhands and technicians examining each part of it.

"I'll take your word then." I replied. "Now I believe a report is in order."

Oshikawa turned to face me fully and I was reminded of the height my new body possessed, 6'2" was my rough guess. "Of course sir."

The engineer palmed a clipboard in his hands. "Good news is that from initial assessments, the reactors in every suit are still operational, if dead at the moment. We'll only need to bring them back online and the suits oughta work. Other internals look good as well, no damage to the cockpits or joints, but those are in need of a good cleaning." He flipped the page. "Of course these suits aren't on our comms so once we start them up, they'll need to update to their OS plus however many updates to bring them to current specs."

"How far behind are they?" I asked, hoping the answer was 'not far'.

Oshikawa sighed. "Well they are Titan suits. Specifically three of them are the RMS-106 Hizacks-" He pointed out the suits lined up before us. The similarity to a Zaku II was striking: same head and monoeye, shoulder shields, and the same bloody 120mm machine gun that I could see being handed over at the end of the hanger. Didn't the Titans have beam guns? The Federation influence mostly shines through in the torso design, which looked like an old GM.

"-although one of them looks to be a variant model, the other two are stock." Oshikawa continued on. "The Titans were destroyed at the end of 0087, so that's six-ish years right there. But that doesn't take into account the manufacture date, along with how these machines look to still be factory fresh, so we could be looking at an OS nine years out of date with our current package."

I paused for a second, taking the information in. "If they are that out of date, how easy would it be to replace the OS with ours or bring the current one up to date?"

Oshikawa's brows furrowed at that. "Assuming all the finicky bits are intact, fairly easy. I and some of my lads have some experience with the Hizack from back in 0087. Again we won't know for sure until the things are turned back on." He stated.

"Now those two over there, no clue what they are" He gave a blaise shrug towards the two gunmetal grey suits. "Had some guys look over the components of its head, fairly sure it was a reconnaissance machine. It's basically filled with sensors of all kinds and its monoeye is a higher model than the ones on these Hizacks. I can tell you that they're on the same base structure as the Hizacks though."

A recon mobile suit? Very interesting, very interesting indeed. I nodded at the two suits with the strange heads. "Bring those online first Chief."

Oshikawa nodded to me in confirmation and jotted something on his clipboard.

"What kind of weaponry do these things have?" I asked next. Surely the Titans didn't actually give their pilots projectile based weaponry? Beam rifles had been one of the biggest advantages of the GMs and the Gundam had during the One Year War. To give a next generation model anything less would be a downgrade.

"The two stock standard Hizacks don't' have beam weapons, just the knock off 120mms the Titans liked to use." A few more papers flicked. "The variant Hizack does have a beam rifle, a sniping type. The reactor on the variant is a different model so it could have a higher kW than the stock standards. Now the potential recon suits don't appear to be armed with ranged weapons although we have found a single beam saber on both of them."

"Makes sense." I muttered. "A machine designed for recon would need to sacrifice in other areas."

"Indeed sir. We have removed several crates of munitions, mainly 120mm bullets for the Hizacks machine guns, e-caps of a dated design, pod missiles, and a good number of 135mm shells."

I raised an eyebrow. "Those shells fit anti-ship rifles if I'm not mistaken."

"Right you are sir." Oshikawa confirmed. "We've also found two 135mm AS rifles stored next to the 120mms. But they are disassembled at the moment."

I pondered the situation. Five mobile suits aren't just something you turn down, even if they were horribly out of date and would be cut to pieces like swiss cheese if they went up against something like a GM III. My thoughts turned to the beam rifle and the two anti ship rifles. Now I don't know the power kW of that rifle but(and I cast back to some dim and old memories that the Will held) anything that fired something with as much punch as a 135mm shell would be effective regardless of age.

Yeah, that might work.

"Okay Chief, here's what next." I said, nodding to myself. "Send those pod missiles to the Lindra and the Samartian, the Geara Dogas will use them better than these things. Next get those reactors back online and figure out the OS issue. After that is accomplished, send me a complete report on the suit's abilities, along with their models. Understood?"

Oshikawa gave his understanding, his pen scratching quickly but efficiently on the clipboard. He immediately turned over to some deckhands and barked some jargon I didn't understand them. Guess I was done here for the moment.

As I popped my helmet back on, the sound of its pressurization seal hissing at me, I called out one last thing to Oshikawa. "Oh and be sure to strip that paint and numbering off!"

So I had an idea and five free mobile suits to man, now I just had to find MS pilots in a ragtag fleet with already stretched manpower.

24.12.0093 UC.

Neo Zeon Fleet, Pezun Debris Field.

I looked over Chief Oshikawa's report one final time before glancing up at the five pilots, four men, one woman, standing before me at attention.

I asked Yoshida for available mobile suit pilots. She said she had some. But I'm pretty sure that four teenagers aren't what I had in mind! Well one of them, the female, had turned eighteen during the interim between Char's War and now. So she counts as an adult.

Still didn't change the fact that all four of them were at a cadet level at best, having only experienced combat in tightly controlled simulations back on Sweetwater. Maybe some practice runs with Geara Dogas before those got requisitioned by retreating forces to add to the front line.

And it wasn't like I could just send the cadets back to where they were either! If we came under attack and the fleet fell, then it's not like they would be better off in the Renewed than flying a mobile suit. At least the mobile suit actually had its weapons working, unlike the two Musakas. Not to mention the loss of face I would suffer in the eyes of my upper rank subordinates, like Yoshida, who I shot a quick look at. The gaunt platinum blonde was dressed in her normal suit, just as the rest of us, myself, the cadets, and whatever pilots and crew members were off-duty and had been able to make it over to the Kalt. To them this probably looked like a form of graduation for the cadets instead of what it actually was: us scraping the bottom of the barrel.

No sense in delaying any longer then.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Behind me are five recently recovered and reactivated mobile suits from the former Titan base of Pezun. Two RMS-106 Hizack, one RMS-106CS Hizack Custom, and two RMS-119 EWAC Zacks" The Hizacks had been stripped of their former paint and had been given the same gunmetal grey paint,which I had thought was just plain metal, that the EWACs had. All five units now had black and silver 'sleeves' on their arms and new unit numbers. 001-003 for the Hizacks and 001-002 for the EWACs. The styling that I added to my suit had quickly caught on with the rest of the fleet and now the Geara Dogas and Jess's Dreissen had their own sleeves.

"The addition of the EWACs represent a significant increase in our ability to detect approaching hostiles before they engage the fleet. And the Hizacks, while outdated, are equipped with powerful anti-ship rifles. These suits will form an advance squad of the fleet's mobile suit corp. It will serve both as the forwardmost eyes of the fleet while we reside in this debris field and the inevitable first point of contact for a hostile force."

The cadets stood even straighter, if that was possible, and eagerness shone in their eyes. They saw this as an award or an advancement.

"However." Steel entered my voice. "Only pilots may operate mobile suits in the field and I only see cadets before me." Minor unease seeped into the cadets. "And since all here chose to fight for Zeon, to risk their lives for the ideal of Zeon, the same choice must be offered to you."

Because as much as I may see eager and, perhaps, unaware youths, they did choose to join up with Neo Zeon. They chose to risk their lives for it and they passed MS pilot testing, unlike many of their brethren who had, based on the numbers, already been folded into the crews of the various ships they had boarded.

To make the choice of whether or not they were able to risk their lives, to fight for something they believed purely off a number was nothing more than sheer hypocrisy and a mockery of their free will and their abilities. I despised such hypocrisy.

Besides, I was a chronological age of one(and that was stretching it) on the calendar.

"Therefore, should you wish to formally join the armed forces of Neo Zeon and be subject to all its rules and regulations, step forward. If you choose not to, you will simply maintain your current cadet status and no punitive action will be applied to you." There. Their options, laid out plain and simple. Everything else is up to them.

"You may decide." Immediately, the male blue haired cadet stepped forward with no hesitation. Right behind him was the brunette female. Two seconds later the black haired cadet with tanned skin moved forward. Finally, about five seconds after that, the smallest cadet with orange hair of all things made his choice and stepped forward.

"You have all made your choice then." I said, command still in my voice but with some warmth to be found in it. Yoshida played her part and handed me a small thin metal case. "When I call your name, step forward and enter the ranks of the mobile suit corps."

"Avril Zech." The confident blue haired and blue eyed youth stepped forward. I opened the case and handed him his rank tab. "Congratulations Petty Officer Third Class Zech."

The newly minted pilot saluted in the formal military style: right arm completely outstretched, helmet under his left arm and heels together. "Sieg Zeon!" He bolted out. Zechs then marched over to the left side of Yoshida and returned to the attention position.

"Conrad Mettinger." The tanned cadet was given his rank. He saluted, Sieg'd and stood beside Zech.

"Spotter Sys." The brunette with pale skin.

"Zechst Ade." The short, orange haired cadet.

After Ade had joined the short line and stood next to Sys, I handed the empty case back to Yoshida, who exchanged it with another case. This one only had one rank tab in it.

I addressed the small crowd that was present. "Before you go about congratulating your new comrades, I have one final rank to hand out. Petty Officer First Class Samuel Brumaire, present yourself."

Brumaire was, as it turned out, the only mobile suit pilot in the fleet that currently had no suit to pilot. His had been totaled during the engagement outside Colony Kudelia and so he had been acting as a relief pilot, taking patrols in other pilot's suits to give his comrades additional rest when needed. Brumaire was in his mid thirties and had a record of competency and capability in combat. I had consulted with Yoshida with this, and she had given her assent to the man's promotion. Which was nice as it would have been a bit of a sticking point if I had promoted the man over the objections of his immediate superior. Also since he had no patrols to do, he was 'free' to come to the Kalt.

Brumaire quickly moved to stand before me and came to attention. His eyes relayed his confusion at this turn of events.

Deciding not to let the man get too nervous, I began my little speech. "Petty Officer Brumaire, it has come to my attention that you are without a mobile suit to pilot against our enemies. Is this true?"

"Yes sir." He replied.

"Well that won't do Chief Petty Officer, that won't do." I handed the man his new rank tab. He looked at it with wide eyes. I held up a hand to forstal any protests. "Your commanding officer recommended you for it chief and I just happen to need someone to look after the greenhorns. I also happen to have a RMS-106 CS Hizack Custom in need of a pilot."

Brumaire looked honestly emotional over the promotion. "You can count on me sir."

"Then you may join your men, chief." Once Brumaire stood in front of the four petty officers, I turned to the small crowd. "Hail the Soldiers of Zeon!" I shouted, saluting the new pilots.

The five let out a "Sieg Zeon!" and the crowd, Yoshida included, responded in kind.

"Sieg Zeon!"

I nodded to Yoshida, who had dismissed the group. "Looks like you have a squad to brief Commander, I'll leave you to it." The woman's pinched expression looked slightly less so as I handed her the packet with the relevant information inside. Heh, maybe this would make her slightly more approving of my command.

I doubt it though.

Aboard the Claxon

As I traveled through the Claxon, which I admit was most likely going to act as my personal ship until the Rewloola was repaired, I ran over the playbook myself and Yoshida had drawn up for the new MS squad based out of the Kalt.

The EWACs would be stationed in the upper parts of the debris field, about halfway through the section that our sensors were unable to scan. This would allow them to scan the empty space outside the debris field. As the EWACs only had a beam saber for their defense, they had been given the 120mm machine guns from the Hizacks for ranged defense, if it became necessary. Providing overwatch for the EWACs would either be the Hizack Custom with its beam sniper rifle piloted by Brumaire or the two Hizacks armed with the 135mm Anti Ship Rifles. The plan was to rotate the new pilots through the EWACs and the Hizacks in their shifts, so that all four would get a handle on them. Really the only 'assigned' mobile suit was the RMS-106CS, which was made for an experienced pilot anyways, to Brumaire.

The EWAC's sensors had been slaved to the five operational ships in the fleet, basically whatever showed up on their scans would show up on the fleets scanners. Additionally, we had been able to plant about a dozen and a half anti MS mines in the gap between the EWAC forward stations and the fleet's scans range, along the most prominent avenues of attack through the debris field.

So Brumarie's plan of action in the event of an attack was to bloody the nose of the attackers and then retreat in such a manner that pursuers were drawn into those predicted attack vectors. By then the rest of our MS corp would have scrambled and engaged the enemy, the retreated Hizack squad would take up support efforts in the rear. That was the current plan, anyways.

Reaching my destination: the Claxon's brig, I straightened my jacket and smoothed back my hair. Speaking to the two guards, I dismissed them from their post. It was time I got around to 'cleaning house' as I had put it two weeks ago.

I depressed the interface key on the door. It smoothly slid open, a sign of good maintenance even with the wear and tear the ship had been put through in the recent past. I walked through the entrance and into the dark and dim brig. The lighting is not unlike that of Site A13 in the depths of Pezun Major.

Three formal cells existed in the brig, each right next to each other. One was empty and two were full. The cells against the walls were the full ones with a separating cell between them, to prevent the prisoners from talking to each other.

Curiously(not really) the cell on the left wall was far more comfortable, it had sheets for the mattress. It had a mattress actually and regular nourishment was given to its occupant along with some reading materials. I walked to the cell door of the rightmost cell. This cell had none of those accommodations, merely what was required to keep the prisoner alive.

I noticed the prisoner was asleep in a corner. Using my security clearance codes, Char's own in fact, I unlocked the barred gate and swung it open.

I entered the cell. One step, two steps. My stride was smooth and languid. I examined the sleeping man. The two weeks in a cell with minimal food hadn't done the good doctor's health any wonders. He had been interrogated, not tortured; that I wouldn't allow, during our withdrawal from Kudelia and I had already gone over the relevant transcripts several times.

Keeping hooded eyes on the man, in case he stirred, I reached down to caress with my right hand the genuine leather holster attached to my belt. With the snap of a button coming undone, I pull a pistol from its carrier. The ZM03 was a steel and plastic semi-automatic handgun that fired the historic 9mm Parabellum round. Eight bullets in a clip and a total of nine with a round in the chamber. It utilizes a straight blowback action and uses a safety lever that simultaneously decocks and blocks the hammer. The quintessential workhorse pistol of the Universal Century. Every action you made in using it would have to be deliberate by design, no accidental firings for this weapon. My ZM03 had been produced in the foundries of Side 6, Riah, ironically enough. Stamp dated all the way back to 0074. The ship's quartermaster had been kind enough to issue it to me upon hearing that I, a high ranking officer, lacked a personal sidearm. Which decreased my image according to him. Guess that made sense.

With a mechanical click, the safety was disengaged. Using my thumb, I reached up and cocked the hammer, feeling the gears work through the piece of metal. I already knew that a bullet, 9x19 FMJ, was in the chamber.

I licked dry lips before speaking to the air in a hoarse whisper. "You know there is a saying out there that would work well in this situation. 'Yesterday is history and tomorrow in a mystery.' I'd be more than willing to move on from our history together and maybe even your personal history JJ, but I don't see a future where any mysteries involving you happen to end well for me. It's nothing truly personal, just good instincts."

It is better to die in one's sleep anyways. My index finger slipped into the trigger guard, feeling the cool metal, and resting ever so lightly on the trigger itself. I raised the ZM03, pointings its barrel squaring at the middle of the left side of JJ's head.

I depressed the trigger. The pistol's sharp retort filled the confined space, causing a ringing in my ears. A fist size hole was punched through JJ's head, pink mist spurting from the entrance hole and a slurry of brains, skull fragments, and blood shooting out the other side. My firm grip on the plastic hand guards preventing the pistol from going off target.

Another pull of the trigger. Now JJ didn't have an upper head.

Another one. Now he didn't have a face. The stinging smell of cordite filled my nostrils. The body wasn't even twitching.

Good. The death had been instantaneous and painless then.

The safety was reengaged and the hammer was decocked. The ZM03 was gently placed back in its holster and the holster flap was then put back into place.

I exited the cell, smoke whorls sliding off my jacket. I stalked over to the other occupied cell, its occupant looking upon my form with inexpressible terror on her face.

I giblessly smiled. "I look forward to a long lasting and conducive working relationship between the two of us, Doctor Serizazi."

The female doctor nodded her head so fast I'm surprised it didn't pop off, and choked out her stammered acceptance.

"Wonderful, I'll send someone by soon to get you quarters on the Renewed. Have a good day Doctor."

Passing the returning guards as I exited the brig. They must have been drawn by the sounds of gunshots. I told them to dispose of the trash in cell 3 and to use the airlock.

27.12.0093 UC

Three days later, we, the fleet that is, finally started to receive responses to my transmitted speech. The replies floored even me and I had made the freaking thing!

All of a sudden, my faction of Neo Zeon, already referred to as the Sleeves in comminiques, had actual territory under us. According to the last count, twelve outposts in the asteroid ring created and manned by remnants of Axis Zeon were flying the new Neo Zeon banner. They reported that other outposts in areas near Side 6 were still considering my offer but believed that opinion would swing in my favor with time.

Now this was stupendous news by itself, but it got better. These outposts in the belt had heard of Char's War being declared in the Earth Sphere back in February and had decided to capitalize on the opportunity. Since these outposts, being Zabi loyalists for the most part, didn't have the highest of opinions of Char Aznable, putting it lightly, they had formed up a great raiding party whose mission it was to attack undermanned Federation patrols and drydocks.

While the Second Neo Zeon war, as the Federals called it, hadn't lasted as long as the raiding party would have liked, they had already made the long journey to the Sphere and decided to raise hell anyways. They too had received my broadcast independently of their home ports and resolved to join forces with us, figuring our fleet had a good chance of tangling with the hated Feddies at one point or another. Upon hearing the news of their home ports swearing fealty to me/us, they had officially joined the ranks of the fleet on the 25th.

And they had mobile suits! Our once stretched thin MS ranks bolstered by the units in the hulls of the Belt's Musai Kai-light cruisers. And boy did the raiders show their lack of centralized production facilities. Mobile suits such as the Gaza line, D and C variants, that flew with souped up Dra-Cs(and fuck me if they weren't the ugly stepchild of the Zeon mobile suit family) that basically worshipped at the altar of SPEED. A pair of modern AMX-009 Dreissens joined as well, with a venerable quintuple of Gelgoogs rounding out the roster.

Of course all of them had paint jobs that ran the length of the color spectrum. The mere thought of the pink Dra-C(SPEED variants) made my head hurt. Now that my forces spanned the entire history of the Zeon war machine, I had made the mistake of making an offhand comment during a 'get to know each other' meeting with all the captains of the ships

The comment? 'I guess I'm now the red baron of a veritable flying circus!' clue laugh track. Yeah that quickly spread and I'm being half jokingly/half seriously called the Red Baron now. My usual outfit wasn't helping either.

Despite that minor hiccup, the good news kept coming. On the 26th, the advance EWACs picked up a trio of warships approaching the debris field. Before we could scramble the mobile suits and move the fleet to a combat footing, a message had been sent through the comm system using recent Neo Zeon encryption. It was the remainder of Char's fleet from Axis, three Musakas, the Guskor, the Garom, and the Musaka itself, with full complements of Geara Dogas onboard. Problem was that they had left Sweetwater with five of the light cruisers but the main Federal force had chosen to pursue them and not my original six, so losses had mounted up and MS squads had to be consolidated. Still the new numbers brought us up to a whopping and jaw dropping eighteen Geara Dogas as the backbone of the Sleeves MS corp.

If fleet morale had risen to a new high after the raiders had joined us, the return of their thought lost comrades blew the roof off. Celebrations happened in every conceivable area as news of friends and family was transmitted to our ships. Some hidden away food stashes were broken out and a nice feast was had last night.

I stood on the bridge of the Claxon, overlooking the enlarged fleet. Finally the universe had cut us a break, light at the end of the tunnel and all that.

"Sir!" A crewmember called out, "Another ship transmitting our codes is approaching from us Moonward."

I smiled a true smile of joy. Our numbers keep going up. "What class are they?" I asked the crewmember.

"It's not a Zeon design sir. Looks like one of the Federation's old Columbus-class carriers."

Huh that was interesting. "Ask for the name of their captain and send a squad to check them out." My orders to both the mobile suits and the new ship were transmitted. After three minutes had passed, the ship sent its reply. I moved over to the shoulder of the crewmember.

"It says that the ship is called the Garan and its captain is one Suberoa Zinnerman. The message states that they are carrying both a high ranking VIP and critical information for the fleet." The crewmember manning the station looked up at me.

So this was the famous Zinnerman. What kind of VIP could he be carrying ...oh. OH.

I turned to shout to the rest of the bridge. "Take the fleet to combat alert status! Prepare to launch mobile suits fleetwide on my orders!" I returned back to the first crewmember, tuning out the organized chaos happening around us. "Have MS Squad 3 bring that carrier into our formation immediately and get me a private line with their bridge, I'll hear this critical information myself."

….

So it turns out an EFF task force of at least five warships were heading in this direction, purpose unknown. But if I was a betting man or one who believed in fate, I'd put some good money on them somehow stumbling across us.

Fuck the universe.