BRIZO BADAMISH

The young Gouf pilot had already gotten fed up (heh, that was a good joke) with the Federation pilots, and was floating off to deal with their situation on their lonesome. While she didn't know if it was right to doubt her fellow Zeonics so easily, Brizo wondered how exactly the child would find a way to contact their allies. Abandoned stations may have had communications arrays, but whether or not they worked was a question, and would there be anyone in range? Although even a bit of a blip would alert Zeon; she just needed the Flanagan Institute to know the general location of where she and her machine was. They would come pick up her corpse and any recoverable test data, and instead they'd have a perfectly intact her and perfectly intact test data. Waiting seemed like the best bet for her, but hopefully they didn't run out of food first. She needed food and water to live.

Why did that girl want to hide her Gouf anyway? If the Federation pilots decided to break the truce, wouldn't it be better to have it be closer so a firefight didn't end with them going completely splat? Maybe the special forces had their own way of doing things.

Speaking of the Federation pilots, however ...

Brizo rested her chin on steepled hands, golden eyes staring at the woman who looked to be pilot of that edgy GM. The woman that she had reacted to during that battle. Now that everything was settling down, she could admit that she could feel ... something, from that woman. Sorta like familiarity, or a general coolness? Was that woman really a Federation Newtype? Had the Feddies really gotten so far that some were already becoming Newtypes? Her bosses would be interested in that.

But she needed to confirm.

Was there really a way to do that? None of the others at the Institute really needed to be confirmed, but she supposed she'd try something out. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't, but if there was a reaction from that pilot, then she'd know. She scrunched up her eyes, and ... felt out her presence.

The Federation pilot bit her lip, mulling things over. Her French compatriot had a point. Though she wasn't sure the probability of a nearby base was enough to run the risk, they wouldn't know where to go, Side 6 was close. They could reach it without too much danger. Rebekah could get her GM up to top speed without too much propellant and then just coast on inertia. It was a more concrete possibility than whatever was on the colony.

The only real risk lay with her supplies. Would her air last that long? Very few things scared her, but… That did. Death in battle was vastly preferable to running out of air.

Hypothetically her supplies could last. Sixty hours, tops, to reach Side 6. Her mobile suit could sustain her for at least three days, and her normal suit had its own air supply. Her water world last, though maybe not comfortably, as would her rations. It was doable. Especially if they made a brief search for resources on the colony before setting out.

Her musings were interrupted by a… Nagging, in the back of her head. An irritating sensation that she couldn't place. Her eyes found the odd Zaku pilot, narrowing at the intensely concentrating Zeek. She was a Newtype, no doubt. So was Grenier next to her. Maybe she was catching some kind of interference between them? It was irritating, no doubt, and she briefly fixed the golden-eyed girl with an intense stare of her own.

“Wish she'd stop that.” Rebekah muttered under her breath before fixing her attention on Dallas again.

“We could make it to Side 6. Searching for a Federation base seems like a shot in the dark that I’d rather not risk. But Side 6 is sixty hours away at most, and our air should last that long. It won't be comfortable, but we could get there.”

The Lieutenant crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against the Juggler’s foot.

“We should search the colony for any supplies nearby we can take with us, but Side 6 seems our best choice.”

Levi sighed she knew it wouldnt work but she tried anyway people of two factions wont work together that wasn't new news but it was something to keep in mind it was a miracle she got them to not kill each other to arrive on the colony. Though she said hiding her gouf she knew it would be impossible due to its color it was going to be impossible to hide its bright blue coloration. With that said though she was down a arm meaning fights was only going to be a uphill battle form here. Still she had a idea and goal in mind gather the Zeon pilots towards her location and perhaps they can hitch the local frigate of supplies headed for the thunderbolt sector. They if anyone would be able to jury rig a workable arm to her gouf before she headed back to earth.

Having pushed her suit to the limit with powering the comms antenna, it took a while to make it to the hangar on Valretha's MS's RCS system. She watched the Gouf run off for some reason. she had no comms indicating what the pilot was doing, but moving the suit out of the common area to atleast have some location to retreive it from, god forbid something catastrophic happening to the current local; wouldn't be a bad idea at all.

Assuming that was the case, the zuda moved forwards and into the hangar. As it entered the space, the newtypes, even those new to the feelings, could feel the presence of the pilot filling the room. It wasn't intrusive, just signifying of rather broad reaching pilot sitting in the cockpit of the MS. It maneuvered into the middle of the hangar, disruspting most of the easy ways out of the hangar for the gathered MS's. The massive Thruster on its back was definitely still glowing red from the heat of its recent use and pushing. The chest sliding and the cockpit opening on the machine, the pilot got out of it helmetless.

Purple hair up in a ponytail, she stood looking out at the gathered members. The variety of Feddy suits on one side while her own, the gouf having just left and the remaining act Zaku in the hangar around them. "I'm the one that was on the comms through the minovsky particles." she explained, the girl looking barely sixteen. Her voice was filled with glimmers of hope, a desire to see some positivity come out of this. Her holster was empty, gun left behind in the cockpit. "My name is Valretha. I won't assume to know the reason you all managed to agree to a ceasefire with eachother despite yourselves and your positions in our respective groups." said the girl, swallowing hard. "We're all soldiers here in one manner or another. No matter how old we are, spacenoid or earthenoid, oldtype or newtype, Zeon or Federation, we're all still human." the female said now, a bit of confidence returning to the girl once she felt she broke the ice.

Heading back inside, she came back out with a pack full of rations. "I know some of you want to get back to your factions, bosses, superiors, but we're all sitting in this same hangar and not shooting each other anything more than glares and i consider that good as i'd like that to be the most of any of our worries between one another." Valretha said with a nervous chuckle now, hoping the bit of light comedy might ease things a bit. "I know words are hard to move people with and i'm not the greatest public speaker, but i think we have a chance here for something new and different. The earth has had a long and hard history. People fighting wars between towns, countries alliances and continents, but i think what we have a chance at is something special. I'm digging into really old earth history here, but back in the first great war, before this monstrosity of a space war evolved, people were fighting one another but even more fierce. Gas attacks were the norm, mutilations from chemicals, dieing of horrible medical care, all things that we take for granted, a lot of us don't have to deal with, they dealt with. even more fierce fighting that what we have now. And the second world war held even worse atrocities but for now i'm just focusing on the good thing in that first world war. Christmas day. It was a Christmas day and the troops managed to negotiate a ceasefire. Less dire circumstances than we have here, since our lives are currently are in danger even as we speak; considering the limited supplies we all have, they negotiated a truce over the fact it was Christmas and the soldiers found that they were human. They found out that they shared common likes and laughed with the people they had spent weeks shooting at and shelling even played sports with them that day." The girl explained and then took a deep breath and sighed, trying to figure our how to go about this and not get everyone killed or up in arms at one another, to try and bring some sort of stable peace between people. She'd be silent for maybe a minute before the girl spoke up once more, looking around the room.

"Dirty Feddies, Bastard Zeon, all these harsh terms to try and dehumanize the people we're fighting so it makes them easier to kill. Why don't we seek to try and use this time to understand one another even just a little instead of following some orders to shoot someone else because someone up above said "fire at them". We already all have military service in common, we're all brothers in arms, maybe not squadmates, but we're all veterans together." Said the female, moving down onto the ground, moving down the leg of the zudah and activating the soft magnets in her boots to allow her to move on the surface. "So i come in hopes of getting us to atleast have an idea that we're human. Sorting out political issues on who believes what is right and wrong is far beyond what we're capable of doing, so let's leave those behind. We are all people. we all have interests, so let's share them. I never said that talking to someone you've considered your enemy for a long time is an easy task, but it's worth a shot if it means we're not shooting at eachother. Leaving the past behind is a hard pill to swallow, so why don't we just all share our names and an interest or two?" Said Valretha looking around between those she saw around her and the hangar in general. "If keeping a gun on you makes you feel more comfortable, then i won't blame you, it's understandable after all the shit we've all been through. As to my suggestion, i'll even lead off." Said the girl, sitting against the foot of the Zudah now, putting the pack next to her and hooking it under the lip of the zuda's foot to keep it form wandering off. "My name is Valretha, I like listening rock and metal music as well as drawing if i had the time off duty." she said, now looking to the rest and hoping to get a conversation started.

"What, you don't like Newtypes ogling you? You should get used to it, my surly Marianne. We're a damned impolite lot by nature, always trying to look into people's souls and communicate on new planes." Dallas tilted his head back against the cool metal of his GM Juggler's leg and smirked. "It's nothing personal. Or maybe it is. She does look a bit touched, doesn't she?"

While the other Zeek's soliloquy buzzed in his ears, the French Newtype let his mind wander carefully. Rebekah certainly seemed onboard, which was good; that GM of hers would be handy to have on a sixty-hour voyage, and the company would be godsend; once Dallas started talking to himself in the cockpit, he was likely never going to be able to slow it down. They'd pull him out of the Juggler while he was still gibbering on about her tits, the poor French bastard, and how would anyone be able to sympathize without beholding the celestial spheres themselves? Having Rebekah along would solve far more problems than she posed.

These Zeon pilots seemed a relatively spineless, indolent lot, too. Unless they radioed in for some of their crueler comrades to take advantage of two wayward GMs, they would probably let them go on their way. If anything, Dallas was steeling himself for pleading about more Newtype understanding and the importance of working together in the harshness of war. He'd welcome suffocation in such an instance. There was nothing more boring than a flower child or a peacenik. Centuries past, Dallas' forefathers had fought under Lafayette for freedom in two great powers. The men who bore his name before him had died bellowing, with Nazi blood on their lips, before they let Hitler storm into France. They would be howling up at him from hell if he shed tears for fascists because he felt them whimpering before the killing blow.

They may have just been teenagers, but the were Zeonic teenagers. Before today, no doubt they'd all been proud of it, too. Once they were returned safely to the brigades of the Zabi family, with their mobile suits returned to full working order, they'd probably be proud to fight the Feddies all over again. At least whores lied with a little bit of grace.

"You collect supplies. I'm sure you're more inventive with what constitutes rations than a spoiled Parisienne like me," the pretty boy teased, eyes still closed as his smile widened a notch. "I'll keep them talking until we're ready."

BRIZO BADAMISH

That Feddie woman with the edgy mobile suit was definitely a Newtype. Or at least, a developing one if she still wasn't aware of the fact. Brizo, however, hadn't realised that the pilot of the weird-looking GM was one as well, but in hindsight, it definitely made sense. If he was a Newtype, then it explained why his machine seemed so experimental. Was the Federation looking into weaponising Newtypes as well? If they were, then it certainly was ballsy (hehehe) of them to put such a valuable subject on the front lines. Even if the Federation had the support of all the colonies that Zeon hadn't gassed or dropped on Australia, it didn't mean they could just keep grabbing more and more Spacenoids for the war effort. It wasn't as if the Sides particularly cared for the EFF anyway, but they also were far from fond of Zeon. The gassing thing probably did the trick, so siding (she needed to keep that one in mind) with the Federation was the best of a bad situation for them.

That was politics, she supposed. It wasn't really that much of an issue for her, as long as she could get back to the Flanagan Institute. The food there was nice, and helping the scientists out wasn't that bad a thing. She quite enjoyed the work they gave her. Her colleagues, on the rare opportunities she got to see them, seemed like okay people as well. They were also keeping her Brawrello safe for her while she was out here with the Zaku.

She wanted to get back into the Brawrello. As nice as the Zaku was, it just wasn't as cool as her mobile armor.

If she wanted to do that, however, she needed to first get off this station. The truce with the Feddies was a good way to get to work without needing to watch her back (although she probably still needed to, because that male Feddie Newtype looked like he was giving beady eyes at the talky Dozle grunt, and given his glances at the edgy GM pilot, those eyes probably weren't those of a chubby chaser). However, working with Federation soldiers definitely wasn't going to be a thing that would happen without lots of hard work and time, the latter of which they were sorely lacking if they wanted to escape before running out of human necessities (see: air). The speech didn't look like it was working either.

Ah well, at least it was worth a try. She wished that the girl would turn off her presence in some way, because it was starting to become a bit too excessive. Dozle's grunts probably weren't too hip and up-to-date with all the latest research.

Although, would the truce even hold once they left the station? Would it be safer to make the Feddies go splat now? She didn't really want to deal with the fuss of the truce breaking down immediately. It would just be a real pain to get through, and she didn't want to get involved in that. And if the Federation won the war, nobody could pull her in for war crimes because nobody would know she'd done the deed on this isolated, abandoned station.

She decided against it. It would be easier, but it would also be uncomfortable and not particularly something she felt she was going to like. Having a change of mind right after hashing things out just felt a bit wrong. If they ran into each other later during the war, they could kill each other then instead.

And in order to ensure a later, she needed to find some more supplies.

Shouldn't be too hard.

Quite possibly.

The GM pilot allowed to herself, though she wasn't about to agree out loud. The most the Frenchman got in agreement was a nod, then a moment later she pushed off from the Juggler's foot to right herself. This portion of the colony had air, but she wasn't sure about the rest. It had to have been abandoned for a reason. So she zipped her normal suit back up and fastened her helmet without a word, making her way towards the airlock. They had all come in at what used to be the spaceport, before the colony was abandoned. They were separated from the inside of the colony by an airlock, which she walked to as calmly as possible without taking her eyes off of the Zeon pilots. Or refastening the clasp on her sidearm's holster. She wasn't looking for a fight, but she wasn't going to get caught off guard by one.

The airlock, thankfully, opened without issue. She sealed the first door behind her and opened the second as soon as it was latched; the second one required a little more effort, indicating either something damaged or loss of power during the evacuation. The manual release was in working order, though, so she yanked hard and was rewarded with the sound of the chamber decompressing. The door opened easily after that, she she slipped deeper into the colony. It had definitely been abandoned in a hurry, though she was hard-pressed to say why; there was breathable air, a quick check confirmed, but once she took off her helmet she knew it was a finite supply. It tasted stale, and the area was dead silent. Habitat controls were clearly offline. Maybe that was why they evacuated, or maybe they had stopped without anyone to maintain them. Hard to know.

It did mean, though, that the colony hadn't been breached. Rebekah would have been breathing vacuum if it was. Since it was present, though, it was important to breathe that and not the tank in her suit. One was a lot less in supply than the other. If there was time, and equipment, she would have to see if she could find spare tanks. Though those were probably in the spaceport...

She keyed the mic in her headset.

"Frenchman, while you are keeping them occupied you should look around for spare O2 tanks. Mobile suit or normal suit sized, either one. We may well need both."

She kept an ear open for a response, though she doubted she would get one of importance. Better to be safe, though. Most of her attention was focused on her first objective; the emergency supplies. Colonies all kept them near the evacuation points, and usually more than they needed. If she was lucky there might be a few spares left.

The supply point had clearly been ransacked, there was abandoned detritus everywhere, things people dropped but didn't have time to pick up. Empty kits here and there, as though people had tried to put their contents in something else, but she was lucky. Three spare packs. Water, rations, first aid supplies, and more importantly, a basic oxygen mask. Wouldn't do anyone much good if the lifepod was breached, but it could be a lifesaver if it ran low on air.

Or if a mobile suit did, for example.

She slipped the straps from all three over her shoulder, musing on whether or not she should give the third to the Zeonic soldiers if she could find other supplies. Maybe if the Frenchman found some air tanks of his own, and if she found more food, though it wouldn't help them much. One pack wasn't going to help all three of them.

Her next stop was the stands that used to cater to travelers. The food wasn't good, but the important thing was it was almost all non-perishable. Chips, jerky, candy, that sort of thing. Easy to carry packages, no risk of it going bad, and lots of calories. Not healthy, but the important thing was calories. They could eat healthy when it wasn't life or death. Rummaging through the cashier's station yielded a few plastic bags that she immediately began shoveling bottles of water, and after that packaged snacks, into. The bag of waters wasn't light, but that meant that it held a decent supply. Enough to last til Side 6. After a little thought she prioritized jerky first, rationalizing that it held the most value in their current situation. Chips were least important, though she did take some, because the bags were mostly air. This was easily circumvented by pricking a hole to let the air out, then packing the bags. Not factory fresh anymore, but not taking up so much space.

Then was candy. Calorie density was most important, so she mostly grabbed things with the highest sugar content. Practically pure sugar. She conceded to her desires by packing a small number of chocolate bars, though she also tucked some into her own pockets. Had to have something to celebrate with if she survived.

The Lieutenant surveyed her haul for a few moments and concluded that it was probably sufficient to get them back. Albeit perhaps not wishing to eat such things ever again. Lifting her bags with a little effort (finding room in her hands was difficult, even after setting her helmet on her head) she started making her way back.

"I'm going to need you to get the door."

@Plank Sinatra @Crimmy

She had kept to herself most of the time, not usually associating herself with pilots of other factions. Her experiences as a Spacenoid raised on Earth were more than plenty damning, and it took far more effort than the other two had probably given for her to be able to pilot her GM. The sneering faces and blunt refusals on basis of her heritage had soured her to the core, and made an already aloof Roan much worse in the long run.

That wasn't to say she was to agree with the Zeons, either. Dropping colonies, poisoning them if the situation was ripe for the abuse of human lives. The speech from the Zudah pilot was endearing, but it would take a hell of a lot more than that to remove the shell around her heart, even if this was the first time she had ever been called to a ceasefire with them. Still, given the choice, she wouldn't have gone back with Rebekah or Dallas if she could help it. The man was a lank and perverted individual, that much she could tell, but Roan couldn't discern if it was from Feddie testing or from a set of loose screws already rolling around in his head. Crass, and the kind of personality that boiled her blood and grated on her every nerve.

Rebekah wasn't too much help either. Quiet, stoic, focused utterly upon the Federation and the idea that it could do no wrong. Everything about the other two Federation pilot irritated her to no end, and it was hard enough to ignore the feeling to simply open up and airlock and drift endlessly rather than be stuck on this colony with them.

The Zeeks were...they were much different to say the least. Mostly younger than her, even, and far better pilots. The Gouf pilot was the strong silent type, but had plenty of sense about her. Depending on what she did to hitch a ride, Roan might jump ship with her. The Zudah's pilot was a bit more hopeful, which brought a slight nagging to her head again. Something about her words and the sensations dug into her brain, and it wasn't very pleasant. As for the Action Zaku pilot, a loner, and perhaps just as aloof as herself.

They were the enemy, so the Federation said. But they seemed less likely to stab her in the back.

Roan made her decision, picking up her helmet and walking after the Gouf pilot.