From the outside, elegantly floating through loosely decorated space, the Antietam-class auxiliary carrier very poorly depicts the day-to-day life, hustle and bustle of the crew on board. Enlisted crewmen jog about the ship and eagerly chip away at their daily duties, running about daily inspection and maintenance and chasing down Petty Officer's to show them a data-pad with another days worth of readouts. In the two large hangar bays, various rugged crewmen and women - complete with rolled sleeves and shirts tied around their waist in favor of tank tops - eagerly go about maintaining and regulating the various mobile suits, floating about the zero-gravity environment in the hangars. A small number of crew on break are gathered in the hangar corners around eskys filled with water, sandwiches and even a few beers to celebrate the days end. Crewmen still in their bunks, having yet to start their duties, laugh and share photographs of their family whilst crewmen in the galley put down their meals and catch up on the latest gossip - who likes who on board, who the best pilots are, who's next to be promoted; all the while, just like the crew in the galley, Captain Hishakawa hosts his daily meeting with the various lieutenants and chiefs of the ship to bring everyone up to date on current events and the orders for the day over a nice lunch and a bottle of UC0024-vintage French-made Champagne.

As if in a different world to the rest of the ship, The air on the bridge is tense with the ensign's eagerly monitoring their screens and facilities. The silence is eventually broken. "Uh, Commander?" pipes up the sensors ensign with an apprehensive glare towards her screen, "Colony 27 was meant to be unfinished and abandoned, right..?" Commander Luke Teth - a man in his late twenties to early thirties with a light complexion, short dark hair, dark eyes and vague black bags under his eyes, and the executive officer to boot - glances over towards the sensors ensign with vague concern in his expression.
"Yes it is, Ensign Olla." answers Commander Teth, "What have you got?"
"You should see this yourself, Commander..." responds the senors ensign - a young girl with a dark complexion, dark eyes and dark hair tied back into a loose bun - as she wheels her chair aside. Taking his queue, Commander Teth stands up from the Captains chair and steps over towards the sensors terminal to look over it critically. His gaze lingers for a moment, his eyes coming to narrow, before he turns to step away.
"Get me a visual, sensors - and communications, get the Captain in here." he orders as he stands in front of the Captains chair, hands folded neatly behind his back and now with a sense of urgency in his expression.

---

The PA system across the ship abruptly crackles to life.
"All hands, all hands: report to your battle stations immediately, report to your battle stations immediately." comes a familiar voice, namely that of Commander Luke Teth. The lighthearted, solid-days-work atmosphere of the ship is immediately shattered. Petty Officers begin shouting and hollering as enlisted crew sprint to their battle stations, some of the more inexperienced even fumbling in the panic to be quickly yanked back to reality by the veterans. All hands in the hangars, resting or not, rush out to the aid of their Petty Officer's - an esky is spilled and scattered across the corner where it is simply left in the rush. The cockpits are quickly opened for preemptively for the pilots arrivals, where they then turn with anticipation towards the door, waiting for them to arrive.

Captain Hishakawa's voice comes on the radio:
"Ensign Tanzi, I need you to scramble your squadron on a defensive sortie; we have 12 Titan mobile suits inbound to the ship in attack formation. Can you make it happen?"

Traveling through space was a certain exercise in mental fortitude, for the amenities were few and far between, especially on a vessel made for transporting fighters originally. Still, for someone born and raised on a closed colony and accustomed to the even less welcoming conditions typical of Zeon ships of the One Year War, this vessel had by comparison grown on her. The hangar was far more spacious then a Zanzibar's cramped hangar, although that was likely partly due to the lack of a full complement of mobile suits among the unit. Still, they were blessed with an abundance of surprisingly modern suits, and even those that lagged behind had skilled pilots, more or less...

"Ensign Tanzi, I need you to scramble your squadron on a defensive sortie; we have 12 Titan mobile suits inbound to the ship in attack formation. Can you make it happen?"

The voice over the in-ship radio perks the raven-haired girl from her rest however, peeling up out of her recliner in the clean room she called her quarters. Perks of being crew aboard a woefully undermanned vessel, she guessed. Already in her normal suit, Tomimi could cut her time to prepare down to moments, at that. "Affirmative Captain, Zeon's pilots are some of the fastest to battle, you know." She knew the crew here didn't like her original loyalties, and she enjoyed prodding them on it whenever she could, especially because she was the best they had for squadron command as it were. Out her door, she grips a motorized handle, letting it pull her down the hallway and to the hangar, keying onto her comms as she goes.

"Quintzem Squadron, please make haste to your suits, don normal suits and prepare for rapid launch. The memory of Zeon demands it." With a click, her comms cut and she makes to glide through the zero G into the massive hangar. Suits line the walls, varieties of them too. Kampfer, Hizack, Jims... And her own suit, the reliable Rick Dom II. The old girl gave her some level of comfort, just seeing it, the scrapes and burns that dotted the worn paint were her reminders of the time she spent with her comrades, and a good show to enemies that she wasn't some newbie. Catching on the front plate, she flips the chest open, exposing the cockpit to her. In she goes, maneuvering herself around and falling into her seat. Comms come up again.

"Double time, you worthless spoiled children of Earth, we've got Titans to deal with!"

Erina lay in her bunk, eyes closed. She took her off-duty time very seriously. She couldn't afford to pilot anything when not at 100%. The Hawthorne might as well be a giant coffin without suits supporting it. But given the atmosphere on board, there were days when Erina just didn't feel like bothering with the others. She hadn't seen a group this mixed up since boot camp. It couldn't be helped, since everyone in the AEUG was a turncoat of some fashion, but to be paired up with former Zakus? That was just nuts! There wasn't a day that went by where she didn't feel some kind of frustration from Zeon-garbage being spewed by her immediate superior. She'd quietly requested a transfer, but given how short-staffed the ship was, she was stuck with Quintzem.

The familiar alarm jolted the CPO out of her daydreams in no time. She was on the ground and getting dressed before the first alert had even finished. Then she heard good old Ensign Tomi on the comm. "How about the memory of the innocents lost, huh?" Erina groaned to whoever in the squad was around to hear it before reaching for her own radio. "Roger, we're on our way now. Keep my seat warm."

Arriving at the hangar, her blue Hizack was easy enough to spot. She'd gotten the machine back when it was brand new. At the time, the clearly Zeonic influence bothered her, but she couldn't deny that it was a big improvement over a hand-me-down GM. Eventually she decided that the look was fair game. Zeon lost the war, therefore the winner takes what they want. How ironic it was that those Titan bastards were fielding them in spades.

Since defecting from the EFSF, Erina had only been in a few skirmishes here and there. Mostly at long range with inconclusive results. Real engagements were hard to come by and her excitement to prove herself among her new allies drowned out any nervousness she had deep down. "So...twelve enemy suits, right?" She hopped into the cockpit and began the required checks. "That's more than enough to go around. Let's give those schmucks in J-Squad something to be jealous about."

Sara was in the hanger, drinking some water she'd snatched from an esky and trying to pretend it was actually beer. Alcohol had helped her forget back in the day, but with the need for combat readiness at all times she couldn't rely on it anymore. She spent most of her time hear, in the hanger, trying to avoid conversation with the rest of the crew and hoping she'd get a chance to sortie out and ironically actually relax a bit for a change rather than mull over her own past and future. She didn't really want to converse with the other crew members, even if she did form friendships despite being an ex TITAN, the mish mashed nature of the crew and there beliefs meant if we somehow did win this they'd probably be shooting at each other before too long, so what was the point. So she stood hear, watching the maintenance of the mobile suits and remembering the people she'd killed.

"All hands, all hands: report to your battle stations immediately, report to your battle stations immediately." Finally, what she was waiting for. She headed for her mobile suit, a GM Sniper II, old and worn with age, but still as reliable as the first day she piloted it. Considered a master piece of design, several pilots still considered it to be the best mass produced mobile suit available when she left the TITANS. These days she would probably have been switched to the Nemo that was based on its design, if this outfit wasn't so strapped for mobile suits. Still it could hold its own, even against more modern designs. "Ensign Tanzi, I need you to scramble your squadron on a defensive sortie; we have 12 Titan mobile suits inbound to the ship in attack formation. Can you make it happen?" And there was the confirmation she'd be going out today. She was soon in the cockpit and checking her systems.

"Quintzem Squadron, please make haste to your suits, don normal suits and prepare for rapid launch. The memory of Zeon demands it." And there it was, the constant reminder of just how close they were to being at each others throats. She shuddered a bit, it wasn't the rhetoric that got to her, that kind of thing had been in every side she'd fought on. No, it was the memory of the last time she'd had an Ensign praise Zeon. The last time she'd herd them say it she was getting ready to defect and begin killing the same people she once called comrades in arms. So was it any wonder that every time Tanzi said something like that, she had to think about the possibility that she might one day kill Tanzi, it wasn't a happy thought in the least. "Double time, you worthless spoiled children of Earth, we've got Titans to deal with!" Sara smiled a little, at least she was upbeat, not like most of the dour sour pusses Sara had for Ensigns before. Though that made the prospect of being on the opposing side from her once again all the more depressing. She turned on her com, "This is Longshot, I'm in the green and good to go."

Under the tranquil isolation in her quarters, Camilla eased her mind with an escape, by means of reading. Good books came few and far in between, but the steadfast girl always found a way regardless of difficulty. So terribly used to the confines of an overpopulated closed colony, Camilla endured the unbearable claustrophobia through experience. There was nothing she yearned for more than to flee from this metal cage, and to reunite with the battlefield amidst the stars she had grown so fond of.

Her squadron consisted of a diverse cast of individuals, each with their own hopes, and dreams. None however, resonated with Camilla. She disdained the politics that plagued this theater of war, and she hated those who dared corrupt her one true passion with fickle, hypocritical ideals. But at the very least, this curious collection of creed still held more honor and integrity to the zealous cult of her former Zeon allies. Camilla was no fool; She knew that not even the most skilled warrior can change anything on the battlefield alone. And so, for this very reason -- And perhaps this reason alone -- She felt content, and pledged that she would give life and limb for her comrades, just as they would for her.

Then out of the blue, Commander Teth's voice echoed throughout every corner of the ship, announcing to all what Camilla waited for this entire time. Setting aside her book, the blonde closed her eyes and curled her lips into a gentle smile, eager to finally have a taste at combat after being denied the pleasure for so, so long...

It was time, she thought to herself.

Drowning out Ensign Tanzi's incessant fanaticism, Camilla focused on her beloved Kampfer. Sill in its original matte blue since the day she could call this suit hers, but with the spiked shoulder-guard to its left finished in a contrasting metallic crimson. Camilla made haste to her mobile suit, lined alongside those of her squadmates', and situated herself in its cockpit: The only place where she truly feels at home.

"Petty Officer Abel, ready for launch."

As always, Reyson tried to hide his fear of battle behind a relatively thin screen of indifference. Yet no amount of ignorance could distract him from the reality of his new situation. Within the cramped interior of the Hawthorne, there was only conflict. He could never understand why some openly desired, even going so far as to anticipate the battles they would fight. Were they so uncaring as to forget the value of their own lives? As usual, last to the mobile suit bay was none other than Reyson McGillis. The very face of the 'submissive' masses quick to forget about the valiant Principality of Zeon's struggles, had it not been for the rescue mission in Side 2 he would have still lived his fragile life.

Freedom, Newtypes, Liberty, legacy...who cares? What good is all that when you were dead? Though afraid to voice his disdain for his squad commander, Reyson hastily slipped on his normal suit. To continue living in the Hawthorne you had to justify just why they had to feed your mouth. Too weak to handle heavy gear and too inexperienced to memorize an entire interface the choice was unanimous: pilot a Mobile Suit. To return now was to embrace death with open arms...but to stay within the Hawthorne was to sleep with one eye open in fear of the TITANS. Yet...what good was it all? What hope did they have to fight against an enemy as strong and expansive as they, yet remained vilified by the entire universe? What good was their valiant death? Were they always expected to fight at such unfavorable odds? What if...what he gets killed? What then...?

"Nghh..." The truth was that it stung to be insulted as such, but Reyson tried his best to deal with his war-happy squad commander. The GM-2 'Chicken' was readied, where a quick layer of paint easily covered the blast marks from the previous sortie. He repeated mentally the procedures. Activate OS. Calibrate thrusters to align with the catapult settings. Initialize weapons systems. When the words 'ALL GREEN' was seen, he gripped the control interface well.

Lacking in enthusiasm, it was clear just who wasn't fit to fight in the battlefield solely from the tone of his voice. "...Petty Officer McGillis. Ready to launch..."As best he could he tried to hide his anxiety and reluctance, knowing well such timidity would displease Officer Tanzi. Reassuring himself that the odds were nowhere near as bad as it seemed, even though he broke out in cold sweat he held his maneuver controller steady.

Part of the thrill Tomimi felt in this endeavor was the muted reactions of her subordinates and even her superior, to her own ideology. She could dress it up in whatever pro-autonomy or anti-Titans coat she wanted to, but the fact of the matter was that her true desire was clear to see under that coat of paint. She could see in her mind the various others faces and hear their voices at her own words. Erina would gripe to herself about the loss of life, and of all her squad she was perhaps the one most irritated by the pro-Zeon speeches Tomimi was apt to give. To be fair though, most all of her squad was composed of traitors and turncoats of some degree, after all, joining the AEUG was a traitorous act in and of itself for the former Earth Federation folks. Reyson and Erina were, in Tomimi's mind, probably the least honorable of the lot, while she saw of herself no issue serving the AEUG, as she had never served the Federation.

Through her comms, the various voices of her makeshift squad began to come back, all signalling more or less a readiness to launch.

"That's more than enough to go around. Let's give those schmucks in J-Squad something to be jealous about."
"This is Longshot, I'm in the green and good to go."
"Petty Officer Abel, ready for launch."
"...Petty Officer McGillis. Ready to launch..."

A grin began to form across her lips at the final green, and she looks over her own console in silence for a moment. Green, green, full ammo, thrusters clear, reactor nominal. With one final nod, she paces her suit forward, the lumbering Dom II taking up most of the open pathway that made up the catapult. Over one shoulder she kept her favorite weapon ready, the deadly Ex-T2-2 Beam Bazooka, and in the other the symbolic weapon of Zeon, the ZMP-50D, not to mention the large heat saber resting across the back skirt of the suit. "Quintzem Squadron, launch and form on me, twelve enemy suits means three a piece. Don't let someone else take your glory, and fight for what you believe in. Ensign Tanzi, launching!" The massive suit sat awkwardly on the catapult plate, obviously intended for suits with smaller leg units, but some ad-hoc modifications had made it passable. The hangar lights go green, and the doors part, exposing the black vastness of space, before the catapult whines into life. Electric arcs run down the path, and accelerate her suit to flight speed- In a few seconds her Dom is out the door, verniers belching to life.

"Captain Hishakawa, Quintzem squadron is launching, give me a sitrep on the enemy suits. What are we up against here?"

"Copy that." Erina responded to her superior. "Send any leftovers my way. CPO Vandam, preparing to launch."
She respected her superior's abilities in combat immensely. She certainly didn't make it through the One Year War by chance. Even if she couldn't stand her outside of the cockpit, they at least had each others backs in a fight. Same went for the rest of the squad.

Just before launching, Erina checked her suit's energy levels. It was a habit of sort, especially since Hizacks had lower outputs than comparable Federation suits. She preferred to carry a BR-87A Beam Rifle over a machine gun in spite of this, though. It did mean that she had to use a Heat Hawk over the typically beam saber to conserve power, but this didn't really bother her all that much. Besides, her hip-mounted Missile Pods didn't make her feel like she was lacking in firepower.

Launching from the carrier, Erina was quick to take position at the Ensign's side. "I've got missiles ready, boss. When they get into range I can hammer them on your go."

On board the bridge of the Hawthorne, the air is tense; crew sit firmly in their seats as of glued to them and tend to their stations attentively with shouting occasionally ringing across the bridge as they communicate developments and updates. Commander Teth stands firmly on the flank of Captain Hishakawa, who sits in the Captains chair with the ankle of one leg resting atop the other in a mens cross-leg.

"Captain Hishakawa!" calls out the communications Ensign, "Mission priority transmission from Ensign Tomimi Tanzi."
"Put it on screen." promptly replies the Captain as he holds his hands neatly in his lap. The Ensign's face with the internals of the mobile suit in the background comes on-screen in the bridge, with Captain Hishakawa's face coming up on the side of her suit. "Ensign Tanzi, our updated scans have yielded the following information. Inbound to the port stern of the ship is a Wing of 12 RGM-79 'Jim' mobile suits, affiliated to the Titans as you already know. We count 4 with 79E beam rifles, 4 with FADEGEL shields and THI Beam Sabers, and 4 with 79E beam rifles and Hyper Bazooka's. We suspect the target is the propulsion array. Is that all you need to know?"

Sealed within the cockpit of her MS-18, Camilla couldn't help but to let out a soft giggle. For most pilots, to be inside a Mobile Suit is to venture off into danger, and risking the fact that they might not return home. But for Camilla, the very fact that she would be allowed back in the fray meant that she was going home. Shortly, after flipping through dozens upon dozens of buttons and switches, each responsible for a single function a myriad of complex Mobile Suit systems, Camilla nodded her head, and with a confident smile, took off from one of Hawthrone's many launchpads and met with her squadmates in formations, on route to intercept the Titans.

20 clicks away and closing in fast, Camilla unleashed the full potential of the Kampfer's powerful engines to full afterburner, and honed in on the three hostiles suits spearheading their formation, in hopes that with their demise, the broken formation would become easy picking for the rest of her squadron. "Engaging bandit lead and adjacent mobile suits. Three in total, yes? But if I find any left behind... Do know that I would not mind taking on a fourth, fifth, or perhaps even a twelve kill." Camilla snickered.

To minimize weight and extend her Mobile Suit's limited range, Camilla opted for a light loadout devoid of cumbersome Giant Bazookas and such. A pair of ZUX-197 Jagdgewehr 192mm Shotguns with the stock assembly removed, and an electronic mechanism that allows for semi-automatic fire are stored on the MS-18's rear skit armor. And to complement her CQB arsenal, were a pair of beam sabers, stored conveniently at recharging stations by the suit's thighs. With a gun in one hand, and a saber in the other, Camilla swooped in like a vicious bird of prey, and the Titans were her prey.

"Quintzem Squadron, launch and form on me, twelve enemy suits means three a piece. Don't let someone else take your glory, and fight for what you believe in. Ensign Tanzi, launching!" Sara grimaced a bit as the catapult her suit was in began to whine to life. A bit too eager aren't we? She thought to herself. She knew quite well that putting personal glory first was a great way to completely destroy the cohesion of an army. So long as her side won she didn't really care who got the kills.

As soon as her suit was launched into space, she took up position near Tanzi's Rick Dom before immediately beginning a visual scan of the area that the enemy suits were supposed to be in. With the Sniper II's precision targeting system, she would hopefully be able to spot them before they were in sensor range. Once the enemy was spotted she would alert her squad of there location if that wasn't already clear and boost away from the enemy in order to maintain distance, ideally outside of there scanner range, were she could pick of enemy mobile suits with her own one's equipped BOWA BR-S-85-L3 Sniper Beam Rifle. It had twelve shots, more than enough for this mission, but if she did run out or needed to engage at close range, the Sniper II had a pair of beam sabers stored in a recharge rack on the rear skirt armor, that she was more than capable of using effectively. In fact she preferred a second beam saber to a shield for parrying purposes in close combat since a shield could be damaged if it took enough hits.

It certainly wasn't his first rodeo, but every time he felt himself lean into the backrest of the cockpit he felt as though this had been the first time he was asked to sortie. Well, ignore the fact he literally soiled himself in his first battle, only to be escorted back to the Hawthorne when his GM-2 was disabled in battle. The horrors of war was something he had yet to accept: every time he pulled the trigger a life would be cut short. No matter what platitudes Tomimi or Captain Levi would say, he just couldn't shake it off. Perhaps they...were no different than him? Yes...that had to be it.

Late to come to formation, late to launch, as always. "Mmgh..." He sighed uneasily, easily enervated by the spirited if not excited comments of the others in the squadron. Quintzem...truly a strange name, one he had hesitantly patched onto his sleeve as a part of the uniform. "T-three? A-alright...I'll do what I can." Yes, ever so reluctant Reyson said what was expected of him, when in reality you could count on him panicking last minute and having to be bailed out of the battlefield. Reyson did lack a killer's instinct; while it was true his piloting skills were impressive for a simple greenhorn, his tendency to lose focus and panic outright was something wildly atypical of a soldier.

As always, he lagged behind, despite being armed with a BOWA·BR-S-85-C2 Beam Rifle, the base standard of any king of RMS-179 GM-II. Along with a beam saber and an MMP-78 Machine Gun on reserve at his back, perhaps as a fall-back weapon should it come to such. As one who frowned on close-combat scenarios, he purposfully lowered the energy output of his beam saber, expecting to seldom use such a weapon to save on battery power. Raising his rifle, laxly did Reyson begin to trace the flight trajectory of the incoming hostiles, his hands shaking as he held a finger close to the trigger. Berate him as they may, but he would never fire the first shot. Perhaps it was still his...cowardly instincts kicking in, even though their enemy had every intention of killing them.

Reyson's breathing became a bit labored, even though they had yet to engage the enemy. Typical of the anxious spacenoid.

Good. The Squadron looked to be in serious fighting shape for this sortie. Perhaps it will be a good hunt, then? Her thoughts to herself were her main companion as she piloted her suit, as they had been for so long after the war. Her sensor eye scans the immediate area, taking in the flight of AEUG suits, and then comparing to the oncoming wing. The number disparity was quite large, and the range of weapons the suits had also would prove to be an issue perhaps. Tomimi had an inkling that these pilots were going to set up to stall their force so the 'zook units could let loose from the rear, likely going for their home ship. Clever bastards, or she was overthinking it. Either way, her own mind was already laying out a plan...

"Longshot, range out and try to keep those bazooka units from getting clean shots, or scrap them if possible. We don't want to lose the Hawthorne here. Vandam, Abel, I want you two as the van here, punch through those CQC Jims and get through to the zooks. Reyson, I want you to act as the reserve and rear guard, hold back and keep any from slipping past, and provide what support you can from here. I'll act as heavy support with my Beam Bazooka, and failing that I'll swing through to provide close in support. Understood? Quintzem Squad, get to it!"

All the while, the enemy suits were far out of most weapons ranges, save for the beam sniper that Valentine had, and to a lesser extent the large beam bazooka that Tanzi had on her Rick Dom and the smaller missiles on Vandam's Hizack. Much to that effect, she swivels her vernier thrusters and jets up out of the formation, the large rectangular weapon beginning to arc and crackle from the barrel. Odds were the Jims would begin firing their own bazookas at this range too, but the advantage of the beam launcher was the speed was far higher then that of a rocket. Casually, she locks onto one of the lead suits, although such an aiming tool was built for capital ships and therefor was almost useless against mobile suits, in a surprise it just might let her take one out without much effort. In an instant, the weapon belches a sickly yellow beam into the distance, slipping through the black void of space and leaving a rapidly fading trail off to the Titan formation...

"Understood. We'll move to intercept the GMs. Make sure you have our backs!" Erina had to push her engines to keep of with Camilla, who made no effort to slow her advance, even with enemy bazookas on the field. The girl had a penchant for darting off towards the first possible target. At least it lined up with their orders this time. "I'm right with you, Abel!" She called out, catching up to the Kampfer and readying her Beam Rifle. "We'll pound through their center and fan out to keep the pressure on!"

Three GMs with sabers at the ready came into Vandam's effective range in no time. She fired off several beam blasts intended more to break up their line than take them down. Then she slammed on the brakes, readying her axe and preparing to take a stab at whoever she was headed for!

Sara shook her head at Camilla's reckless charge. To be honest she found that sort of youthful enthusiasm refreshing. It reminded her a bit of herself, back when she first joined the Zeon forces. Still, Sara was worried that Camilla's eagerness might get her killed one of these days.

"Roger that Debris, moving out and taking shots." As soon as the order was given Sara began to speed away from the enemy suits as fast as she could. She had there location, so now she would try to keep as far from them as she effectively could in order to minimize there ability to aim at her affectively. She began to move erratically to increase her evasiveness and took aim at her first target, one of the GMs with the bazookas. She focused her thoughts, her heart rate steadied and her breathing became rhythmic.

Unlike others who felt most comfortable in battle Sara didn't experience the rush of adrenalin and excitement when in combat. To the contrary, it was only when she was in her mobile suit staring death in the face that she truly felt relaxed. It was hear, in the heat of battle, that she felt something akin to a zen state.

She focused on the GM and fired. The shot was aimed to hit right in the center of the suit, where the reactor was. One solid hit to that from a beam weapon and the suit would explode. You couldn't get much more out of commission then that.

While to gloryhounds being asked to remain at the rear was nothing short of an insult, but such commands were a godsend for him. "U-Understood, Lieutenant." He stated, lacking any backbone as he slowed the cruise speed of his Mobile Suit. Unlike many others from the Quintzem squadron Reyson liberally depended on the guide assistance program onboard the GM II Custom, leaving little wonder why he had an atrocious weapon accuracy rating. Keeping a close eye on the TITANS formation Reyson held his beam rifle forward, keeping the machine gun close at hand.

Tense and utterly stationary, the confinement of the cockpit unnerved the spacenoid greatly. Camilla charged in recklessly, much like all the other war-hungry members of the squad. "I...I can do this...I can do it..." He tried to aim, his hands a little unstable as he fired a shot. "W-wah!" He cried out in surprise, the projectile definitely missing by a wide margin.Of course, the shot missed, but was quite close to where Camilla was flying to. "S-sorry!" He apologized, trying to steady his aim.

His palms sweating, knees weak and his arms heavy, he tried to focus and lead the break-away units, keeping a close eye on whichever may come and assault the Hawthorne directly...

Had Camilla's mobile suit drifted forward against the sudden reverse-thrust braking by even the breadth of an hair, there would have definitely been a hole bored through her Mobile Suit by Reyson's misfire. Whether it was thanks to the many powerful thrusters on the lightweight MS-18, or from a swift, instinctual reaction honed by battle, the pilot and her suit remained ultimately unscathed. But even though Lady Luck might have saved her from friendly fire, it soon became evident that she had no plans to stay with her any longer.

The sudden deceleration and punishing G-forces that followed soon as a natural consequence took its toll on Camilla, and threw her to the very verge of blacking out. Desperately willing herself to stay conscious while in the thick of an engagement against a venerable Titan squadron, the dazed pilot was at the mercy of the hostile mobile suits that were more than eager to avenge their fallen comrades. By the time she had recovered, it was already too late: The Titan suits had encircled her own, and were all poised to attack.

Unable to trust or rely on her own allies, Camilla had no choice but to rely on a Hail Mary tactic. Hoping that a suppressive barrage of 192mm slugs in the general direction of her 6 o' clock direction without any computer-guided aim assist would deny the possibility of accurate fire from the suits that had maneuvered behind her, she quickly propelled her Kampfer forward on full afterburners to those still positioned in front of her. Weaving herself through a curtain of oncoming fire, she quickly discarded her shotgun just as it ran out of ammo, unsheathed her beam saber, and attempted to destroy the pair of mobile suits that had foolishly remained so close together. If successful, she planned to immediately maneuver herself in the opposite direction, retrieve the shotgun stored behind her back, and immediately return fire.

Camilla had always been quite the lone wolf, and old habits die hard. An individual first and foremost, Reyson's accident had only reinforced her beliefs, however flawed they are.