A ship, once sleek but now many times patched and repaired, sat nestled between two ships in even worse condition. This was the Debris Zone, sometimes called The Shoal. Here hundreds of Ahab reactors still produce both power and gravity in the destroyed shells of hundreds of ships and mobile suits. The ship in question is the only one in sight that is still truly space-worthy, and it rests here to avoid being seen while the crew recover from a recent fight. The side of the hull is painted with the name: The Mercurial Witch.

~~~

Captain Brun sat in her personal cabin(the only one on board) massaging her temples and enjoying the silence. It had been a successful raid on a smaller pirate ship, but celebrating with her crew was never her way. Her satisfied reverie was interrupted by the comm bleeping, as a message came through from the bridge.

"Captain!"

Her head tipped up to look at the speaker box on the wall; it was Mick, the sensor technician. Little as she wanted to have a conversation, Brun knew what a call from him could mean. "What is it?" she barked toward the wall.

"There's a new Ahab wave reaction. It's moving."

"Could it be loose debris?" she asked impatiently, "There's so many reactors out here, what's special about this one?"

"It's not moving in an orbital pattern, it keeps changing directions. Like it's... looking for something?" he sounded uncertain, but Brun knew Mick well. He had good instincts, and had analyzed a lot of flight patterns from his chair on the bridge.

"A salvage ship? We can send a sortie to discourage them."

"Too small, Captain. I thought a mobile suit, only it's strange it's out here alone."

Brun sat up straight for the first time, and spoke in something close to alarm now, "Who is flying a mobile suit out here? Widen the range, find the ship that it launched from. And order a sortie now. Get a look at it, and catch it. If it's out here alone it might not be able to send a message back."

Even as the captain stood to make her way to the bridge, the alarm for battle stations sounded.

~~~

In the mobile suit hangar, the various suits of the Jolly Rog crew were undergoing minor repairs. Most hadn't gotten more than a few nicks and chips in the nanolaminate, and the cranky old mechanic was preparing the depositor to make the repair.

"Lefty!" A girl floated down from the catwalk(not much use when the gravity was off), and the mechanic in question closed her eyes and clenched her jaw as she summoned what little patience she was capable of.

"You're underfoot, Holly," she growled.

"I'm above you. Actually, neither. There's no up or down here, y'know. But listen, make sure you paint the scratch on my mobile suit's head the right color! I had to trade so many favors to get that, don't ruin it!"

"First of all, this ain't your mobile suit. If anything, it's mine, and if I wanna paint it white with a target on the head I'll do that. Now go have a ration or something, you're not wanted in here."

"Come on!" Holly weedled, "I'll... polish all your wrenches? For a month!"

Finally Lefty looked at her, a scowl on her face, "If I want 'em polished you'll do it, whatever color I paint my machines. Now get-"

She was cut off by the battle station alarm. Lefty rolled her eyes, but kept on working. She was interrupted again by the arrival of the Bosun.

"Mouse," he addressed Holly, "You're gonna sortie, get in your suit before I throw you in myself."

"The repairs aren't done," Lefty cut in.

"I didn't ask, crone. If she didn't want a damaged suit, she shouldn'ta got hit, right?"

"Crone, am I? And here I thought you cared if you could rely on your repairs..."

The Bosun's hand lashed out in a wicked strike, but it was Holly that he struck, right across the face. She clamped a hand to her nose and kicked back off the deck to float up to her cockpit, blood floating behind her.

Martyn looked at the Bosun, his old enemy, and knew from experience that interfering would not do anything for Holly; not that it didn't make his blood boil to just see this happening. Either way, the young man was in his pilot suit - Even these goons knew that to be shirtless in space was suicide - And hooking his AVs up into his Man Rodi. As the cockpit closed, he waited for the order to launch, even as he looked over to see if he still had his secret stash of medical goods, as well as candy.

Being eighteen and good-looking had made it easier for him to charm those sorts of items, as well as extra food, from other people; not in a way which would be morally dubious and/or scarring, but just easier for him to sweet-talk the Free Pilots, especially Carrot.

He needed the goodwill of his Human Debris peers more than ever, with the institution of slavery illegal again and Gjallarhorn actually being tasked with freeing them. Because he was going to plan a revolt, a revolt once he had the measure of the Captain, the Bosun, and the Free Pilots (which may or may not include Carrot). Speaking of Carrot, at eighteen, he was probably old enough that he could probably ask her out on a 'date', once he was free, and it won't look weird or creepy. This meant that he could probably get her help in his planned rebellion by, well, resorting to 'romance'.

But first, he had to take out the lone ship or mobile suit which came into their line of sight, and whose Ahab signature was visible in his sensors - Did its pilot have a death wish? If so, Martyn needed the loot, especially if he can filch some of it for himself for use as bribes or gifts. But if it was a ship and it had civilians in it... Let's just say that Martyn had always held himself back from the act of enslaving other children and only killed when he could not avoid it.

Then again, it was the experienced, 'free' pirates who thought it was a privilege to indulge in that. Either way, when he had launched, he'd follow the Squad Captain's lead, hoping, deep inside his heart, that he was getting enough goodwill for all the Human Debris to participate in the planned revolt once he sparked it.

For there will be a spark; these pirates were not the only ones who've learned from the short-lived career of Tekkadan - He'd show them that the abused will bite back...

Kurt gazed outside the window of the Mercurial Witch, the occasional piece of debris floating by. This was nothing out of the ordinary as the pirate ship was passing through the Debris Zone, a floating field of broken tech and reactors. While some people would be freaked out about traveling through such a densely packed part of space, Kurt had gotten used to it during his time mining asteroids.

But Kurt’s longing look into the space beyond the ship was interrupted by the sound of boxes hitting the floor. Kurt turned to see another Human Debris fallen over, floating in the zero gravity with several boxes floating next to them. Kurt just sighed before helping them grab the boxes that they had dropped. Kurt knew that if anyone who was free on the crew spotted this accident, there would be harsh discipline on this Human Debris.

While Kurt didn’t know his name, he could tell that this Human Debris was a few years younger than himself. And frequently these younger Human Debris were treated worse than those who were old enough to do significant work for the Jolly Rogs. So Kurt was glad that he was able to grab all the boxes quickly.

“Thank you,” said the young Human Debris as he took the boxes from Kurt, all the while keeping his head down, “I need to get going. Thank you again.”

And with that, he rushed down the hallway, bringing these mystery boxes to somewhere else on the ship. But Kurt figured that it was none of his business what those boxes were. All that was really his business was piloting, his assigned role on the Mercurial Witch. But those duties were needed as the alarms calling for battle stations came over the speakers.

Luckily for Kurt he was just down the hallway from the hangar. Kurt floated down the hallway as fast as he could, bursting through the doors to the hangar. In the center of the hangar Kurt could see Bosun and Holly, blood floating in front of her. That probably meant that Bosun was in a bad mood. So Kurt tried to sneak past him and float over to his Graze Cosmo.

“Hey, you!” shouted Bosun, “Where the hell were you? You were supposed to be here on standby, not loitering around.”

“Sorry boss,” Kurt replied, just loud enough for the head of the mobile suit squad to hear.

Kurt hoped that he hadn’t been the last pilot to show up, as if he was he could expect a beating when they came back to the ship. But Kurt was used to tolerating beatings, even from before being Human Debris, back at the orphanage.

But Kurt decided to focus on the now, floating up to his Graze. As the cockpit opened, Kurt took a seat in the damaged mobile suit. Clearly Lefty hadn’t been able to fully repair his suit as there were several slashes into its armor and the shield on his arm had a large chunk missing.

But Kurt still thought that it was good enough to go back into battle. Just having a Graze at all was better than some other pirates he had seen. It was with this in mind that Kurt connected to his mobile suit through the Alaya Vijinana System. Kurt gasped as he became one with the machine, a jolt of pain traveling down his back.

But then the pain calmed down, just being a dull throbbing in his back. Once again in control of his body, Kurt put his hands on the controls of the mobile suit. As he waited for the order to launch, Kurt vowed that he would survive this, a vow he had repeated many times since being a child.

After they'd finished their last sortie, Fox had fallen into his usual routine; helping Lefty with repairs. Well, it was less "helping" and more handing the older woman tools as she requested them or holding components in place so they could be more easily worked on. A lack of a proper education limited what the wiry teen could do. Still, no mechanic worth their salt turned down an extra pair of reliable hands.

When the battle stations alarm rang out, Fox took a couple of moments to ensure that Lefty's tools were properly secured, knowing full well how badly the crusty mechanic would chew him out if he let any of her precious equipment float off. Ignoring the usual tit for tat between Holly and Lefty, the teen also seemed to pay the Bosun no mind; though those familiar with the boy's mannerisms would notice the slight tensing of his posture and minute tilt of his head as listened to the older man's movements.

"Tools secured. Moving to station." He announced quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the metallic din of the hanger and the blaring alarm.

Not waiting for the Bosun's attention to fall on him, Fox gave the securing for the mechanic's tools one last glance before smoothly flipping himself over the edge of the maintenance platform's handrail. Moving with the grace one gained by growing up in space, the teen coiled like a spring against the platform's rim before launching off towards "his" Hugo. The fancy movements the quiet teen's way of "showing off."

Having pushed off with fair bit more force than necessary, Fox let out a slight grunt as he strained his arm catching the grab handle of the elevated seat of the mobile suit. His momentum arrested, Fox slapped himself into the seat with sleek, deft movements. Connecting the Alaya Vijinana system, the teen quickly brought the mobile suit out of rest mode. With the thrum of systems coming online, the teen jerked from the sudden jarring sensation of the man-machine interface flooding his senses with input. A feral, half-snarl, half-smile pulled at the boy's lips. The fox had his fangs once more.

Holly floated to her extended cockpit and pulled herself into her seat, fighting the inertia of her kick off the floor. As the cockpit retracted and closed around her, she strapped herself in and plugged the Alaya-Vijnana interface in with practiced motions. The interface engaged, and her hands convulsed in her lap, her already-bleeding nose giving a particularly strong gush. She wiped it savagely with the back of her hand.

The "Big Boi," as she called her Rodi, was lowered to the catapult deck first, and Holly grabbed her normal suit helmet off the floor and put it on. After everything was checked, she announced into the comm feed:

"Holly, Familiar One, Man Rodi, taking off."

~~~

Captain Brun drifted into the bridge, where the Witch's command and control staff was already gathered. Carrot was standing dutifully by the Captain's seat(the only one that looked reasonably comfortable), and only glanced briefly before announcing "Captain on the deck!"

Brun took her seat and looked over the monitors. There wasn't a lot to see yet, so she glanced at the cockpit feeds in the five sortying mobile suits. "Blood on that one's face. Did it take such a bad hit out there?"

Carrot answered at once, "No, ma'am. Her suit sustained some damage, but she was uninjured when she checked it. I suspect the Bosun bloodied her nose for her."

The Captain sighed, "If he's not more careful with his playthings, he'll break them. And then how will he entertain himself?" As she spoke, her hand reached out and absently stroked Carrot's hair. The girl bore this stoically.

~~~

Holly gritted her teeth against the force of the catapult, even with her inertial control working overtime. As her Rodi’s speed leveled out, she glanced around at her displays. There wasn’t a lot to see in the visual scans yet. The Debris zone was full of detritus from destroyed ships, pulled together by the unnatural gravity of abandoned Ahab reactors. If you didn’t know to look for it, the Mercurial Witch didn’t look all that different from some of the larger chunks. There were a few other full ships just sitting out here, but this was so deep in the Zone that trying to recover one was simply infeasible.

Local area mapping was almost worse. Radar was useless, so the mapping was based on a conglomeration of visual data, with Ahab waves layered on top. This is what she was scanning, after a quick look to confirm that her squad was following on.

“I’ve sent the wave signature to your mobile suits,” Mick’s voice came over the LCS comm. “But it’s moving into an area with particularly high wave density, so keep sharp. And try not to break the LCS line.”

“Don’t stretch your leashes, rats,” the captain’s voice cut in, “Remember where you have to return.”

Holly murmured with her microphone off, “Yeah yeah,” before opening the channel and speaking aloud, “Yes, cap’n.”

Holly spotted the wave in her mapping, but it was in an area that even her visual data was failing to generate. The Big Boi’s thrusters propelled it forward into the cloud of debris, putting on reverse thrust to slow it down as it approached a particularly large chunk of armor plating. She maneuvered around it, and stared into her displays, eyes wide and pupils flitting back and forth.

“There,” she said, “Sending visual, do you see? Looks like a Graze, but… fancy?”

There was a ship here, a proper battle ship of old. Holly could just make out the emblem of Gjallarhorn in faded and scuffed paint. The size of the ship, and particularly the Ahab reactor inside, had attracted a great many smaller ships and other space garbage. Two things stood out, however: the first was a set of boosters resting gently against the hull. It was obviously much newer, and looked like it was meant to attach to a mobile suit. This explained how a suit had gotten all the way out here, and the suit itself was the second thing. It was painted yellow, and had more flourishes in its armor than any of the ones on board a Jolly Rog ship.

“That’s a Schwalbe Graze!” Mick said, in some amount of surprise. “Those are rare as hell.”

“And probably working for Gjallarhorn,” the captain cut across in some alarm, “Do not let it escape to report back!”

Though the body was facing a rent in the hull of the Gjallarhorn ship, the head was turned, and the shroud around its sensor orb was retracted as it stared directly at Holly’s mobile suit.

Martyn nodded and said, "Roger!" through public comms before saying in a lower tone, one meant for Holly and the others even though the lack of private channels meant that the others can listen in as well, "A Schwalbe and the accompanying Ace Pilot would only be sent here if Gjallarhorn thinks there's something worth looking for in this hellhole, and it clearly ain't pirates no matter how much they say they want to get rid of them. There must be a treasure somewhere, considering the fact that they won't send a lone machine, no matter how good, just to take us down."

It wasn't out of the question, considering how even today, people still dreamt of finding Calamity War tech. And if so, Martyn could see an opportunity for freedom, but he had to be decisive, even to the point of foolhardiness, in taking it - And make sure that none of them died.

"Familiar One," the young man said, "Allow me to give orders - We're going to need teamwork to take down this Graze Schwalbe without a single casualty; we're taking this 'Ace Pilot' alive so that he can lead us to the 'gold' he's looking for. If anyone objects, they can blow me up in the middle of a fight; just remember that you won't find a 'Space Rat' as good as I am for long years afterwards!"

He hoped that was the right amount of defiance, bragging, and appeal to greed mixed with factual truth to save his life. A moment for the others to respond as they neared the Graze Schwalbe, which by now was registering the presence of pirates in a variety of stolen Grazes, Rodis, and a Hugo and was readying its weapons.

Old habits died hard, it seemed, including foolhardy courage in the face of overwhelming odds. Martyn then moved closer to the Schwalbe, holding out his own Mech's 'Hammer Chopper' while shouting, "Familiar One, with me! Familiars Two and Three, come at the enemy mech to the sides! Familiar Five, you're the fastest, so try and get behind the enemy unit and use your Anchor Claw to yank out its thrusters! If all goes well, we're getting a Graze Schwalbe, a Pilot, and a lead to whatever they're looking for which most definitely aren't our little ol' selves..."

@Gisk@FlappyTheSpybot@Martian@Renny@Dezuel

"Damnable pirates, that they would travel through the Debris Zone of all places. Are they really that desperate or is it madness? Eh Major?" A gruff sounding captain spoke up from his seat, a man in his fourties with a scar at his chin. The man's darkbrown eyes scanned the sight before him, his equally dark wavy hair neatly kept in place by his military cap, the man also sported some impressive sideburns. Behind his seat stood another man, dressed in a red uniform with gold details, his chest decorated with many medals and bearing the rank of Major. The far younger man bore a set of piercing blue eyes and blonde hair, his physical build was that of an acrobat rather than a bruiser.

"True survivors do with what they have at their disposal in order to survive, if the Tekkadan taught us something, it is that the more cornered an animal is, the more likely it will lash out and fight to the end. No matter what that end may be, captain. These pirates aren't that much different, especially those who employ pilots which use the AVS. To a regular pilot of the Gjallarhorn army, these pilots are what a wolf is to a deer. Armed with sharp fangs. Hunting in a pack. Coordinated and ferocious. The outcome should be obvious in most cases. However there are things even wolves know to stay clear of. Bears. No matter how much they howl, bite or co-ordinate they won't take it down." The blonde rose up from his leaning position and walked past the seated captain, his eyes wandering over the view that lay ahead. The captain soon offered his reply.

"Heh. You fancy yourself a bear then sir?" The captain said with a grin, before he took a sip from his coffee-cup that was just within reach.

"Something like that. A predator cannot understand a prey or vice versa. Yet a fellow predator can respect and understand the hunger another predator feels." The major crossed his arms as he squinted out through the vast window, out at the field of debris floating around.

"I just don't understand, Major. Why are you piloting that old, pardon me from saying. That old scrapheap." It didn't take long for the captain to receive his answer, it came just as he was putting down his coffee-cup.

"Don't underestimate my Gullinkambe, captain. The Geirail while being an old model, and considered outdated by most. Is still a weapon. A small cut can end a man's life if you know where to aim. It were my first mobile suit. I specifically tracked down my training machine and requested to use it in battle. You could say it is kind of like a brother to me. It enjoys to hunt down bigger prey." The major raised one of his hands to adjust his hair, twirling a finger at a lock at his neck.

"U-understood... I am not questioning your impressive record, Major Charles Le Greif. I was just intrigued." The captain said with a slight sweatdrop at his cheek.

"It's fine. We all have things that intrgue us, captain. One of those things for me is to fight the strong. You cannot become a better pilot by fighting the meek or by having the machine do all the lifting for you. We live in a world where things often can be settled by the push of a trigger. I think we all remember the sight of the Dainsleif on the battlefield..." Charles couldn't help but narrow his eyes at the memory, a very unfortunate turn of events. He began to ponder, just how far would the Tekkadan and the revolutionary fleet have gotten had it not been for those wretched weapons.

"Aye. I do remember it... but that's war. You do what you have to do in order to win, right?" The captain said while grabbing a cookie from the plate next to his coffee-cup.

"Indeed." The blonde major replied, a slight upturn at the corner of his lips as he stood with his back against the captain.

"There has been some who put too much reliance on the performance of their machine, rather than the performance of themselves. I think that can be said for the Gundam Bael's last pilot. It is people you are to rely upon, including yourself and those who share your dream. Not by waving a flag or icon, like a child whose found his father's sword. Many swords are double-edged, it is easy to get cut if you are being foolish." Charles began to walk up the stairs of the command bridge to put himself back at the same elevation as the captain, looking into his eyes as he did.

"Mhm. Understood sir." The captain nodded before calling out to one of the crew which were handling transmissions.

"Any word from the scout yet?" The captain said impatiently, drumming his fingers on his armrest, while leaning his head into his other hand.

"Nothing so far, sir." The crew-man replied in a quick manner, before returning to check in his headset.

"A hunter must be patient, captain. Time you spend waiting, is time well spent. Those who are rash usually don't last long. Remember this well captain." The blonde nodded his head towards the captain.

"A-ah... yes sir." The gruff looking captain adjusted himself in his seat, having slid down into too much of a comfortable position.

"Though I must admit, the existance of the gundams make me shiver with anticipation. Now imagine....A gundam and a pilot connected by an AVS. Now that is a hunt. What could possibly be a more suitable foe to face in battle? Perhaps a mobile armor. But those are even more rare. If there's still any remaining. I like to think there are. Because people are resourceful, who knows what could be locked away in some old dark room. Just waiting to be rediscovered." The young major allowed himself a brief chuckle as he began to lean on the captain's backrest again.

"You sure is something else, Major." The captain said while one of the crewmembers filled up his coffee-cup again.

"I am human. Nothing more, nothing less. We are what we set out to be, our actions speak for themselves. Sometimes however, a single man or woman can alter history as we know it. It isn't Bael which has shaped Gjallarhorn into what it is today, it has been it's pilots and the actions of other people which has stood in it's path. Every little drop of water upon a leaf will eventually gather together into something bigger before falling off. Same can be said of the people which were with the Tekkadan. It wasn't that their mobile suits were necessarily stronger, but rather the sheer fanatism which seemed to seep into the people piloting those machines. It made them relentless, desperate opponents. The kind which can strike fear into the hearts of people. Which can have varying effects, such as creating allies who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end, while on the other side also create enemies who would like nothing more than swat that buzzing fly." Charles made a fingersnap with his left hand, then reached out for one of the cookies still remaining on the captain's plate. Picking it up with his left hand, using only his thumb and the finger next to it to hold it up with his white glove, as if it wasn't a cookie at all but a coin.

"Much like this cookie, which has sweet topping at one side, and is barren on the other. Some people are incapable of seeing things from the other side. If you want to truly bring defeat to your enemy, you must first understand how he thinks. Then you can take the appropriate actions. At the same time, you must keep yourself aware that they may try to do the same to you. Do you know why I keep an open channel in battle?" He asked, while placing the cookie back to it's plate, before sitting down this time into his own seat on the bridge.

"Enlighten me." The captain said, motioning with his broad arm and hands for the major to continue.

"Because an enemy you know, is an enemy harder to kill. An enemy which bears a face or name. When they see their opponent as someone, rather than something. That is when many will hesitate to pull the trigger. How do I know this? Because that is how we humans are. Different. Yet also so very alike. When you have your enemy pondering if what he is doing is nothing short of killing himself, his mental state or his soul if you so wish. That is when you know you have him." The blonde major crossed his legs and momentarily threw a glance to his polished black boots, taking a brief pause before continuing.

"You never know if the pilots you capture will end up having valuable information, thus it's fruitful to incapacitate them instead of outright killing them, whenever such is possible. The easiest way is to attack their ship, without a place to resupply, repair their damaged machines or means of retreat. They will be forced to surrender or be outright destroyed in a battle they cannot truly win with their lives intact. If they do surrender, you will not only have valuable captives which have information, but you will also be able to capture their machines. Perhaps even their very souls..." Charles held up a finger as to make a point to the captain, before the major's gaze fell back to staring at the debris zone before them. "If there will not be a reply from your scout soon, I will ask for your permission to sortie, captain. This is your ship after all, ranks aside." The blonde leaned back in his seat, looking at his gloved right hand before tightening it into a fist.

"Permission granted..." The captain adjusted his hat and tried to make himself more presentable as he sat there in his seat.

The dull throbbing in Kurt’s back continued as he booted up his mobile suit. The modified, beat up Graze hummed with energy as its computer systems turned on, the HUD appearing in front of Kurt. As the mobile suit came alive, Kurt placed his normal suit helmet on his head, completing his readiness for sortie.

As he placed his hands on the controls, Kurt and his Graze was lowered onto the catapult deck. As the feet of the purple mobile suit was lined up on the tracks of the catapult, Kurt took a deep breath in, still feeling the Alaya Vijinana System connection course throughout his body.

Kurt then announced himself on the comms channel, “Kurt, taking off in the Graze.”

Kurt’s Graze then shout out from the catapult, following his comrades into space. Kurt gritted his teeth against the G-force, trying to keep his hands stable on the controls. Once the Graze was a decent ways away from the Mercurial Witch, Kurt looked at his display, currently seeing nothing but space debris.

Mick then sent over the wave signature of the mobile suit they were looking for. But before Kurt could thank him, the Captain told the pilots to stay on their leash and remember where they have to return. Through gritted teeth, Kurt said a yes captain over the comms.

Holly then took the lead, being the first to get a visual on the mobile suit. According to Mick it was a Schwalbe Graze, a rare mobile suit. All Kurt knew about that suit is that it was a better version of his Graze, especially since his was not in pristine condition. But what was more interesting to Kurt was the Gjallarhorn ship. Usually they didn’t bother to patrol this area.

Martyn then offered a possible scenario, that Gjallarhorn was looking for something of value. While it was an interesting idea, Kurt was dubious about it. Usually the best you found in the debris field was some spare parts or maybe an engine if you were lucky. But Martyn kept with his idea, saying that they should take the pilot of the Schwalbe Graze alive. He then gave some orders, to which Kurt wondered who made him commander. But he followed the commands, seeing that unity would be needed in this battle.

Kurt guided his Graze Cosmo to along the sides of the Gjallarhorn mobile suit, raising his old 120mm rifle. As Kurt flanked the yellow Graze variant, Thom said he felt like something big was going to happen. Kurt hoped that the fellow Graze pilot was wrong. Given how hard their last battle had been, Kurt wished that this one would be as simple as a five on one.

“Just be ready,” said Kurt over the comms channel, “We don’t know if they have any other suits to sortie.”

As Kurt spoke, he caused his mobile suit to raise its rifle, trying to line it up with Schwalbe Graze. He then continued to take deep breaths, ready to fire as soon as the battle began.

Once they were in open space, Fox said little, having cleared the launch catapult with little fanfare. Now that they had their target in sight and an impromptu battleplan, there was reason for words, if only a few. "Acknowledged. Familiar Five, breaking formation to flank." Came the young man's reply to Martyn's impromptu orders. Accelerating towards their target, Fox leveled the Hugo's 110mm machine gun at the Schwalbe Graze and fired off a couple of short bursts. At this range, the 110m did little more than scatter a couple of dents across the Schwalbe's armor, most of the rounds impacting around their target given the weapon's shorter barrel. Firing another burst as he closed, the wiry pilot considered that to be enough of a distraction and changed tact.

The Hugo smoothly twisted and fired off an anchor claw, connecting with a particularly large piece of debris. Killing his thrusters and locking the claw's line, the much larger mass of the wrecked spaceship abruptly changed the Hugo's direction, swinging the mobile suit in an arc directly towards the debris field proper. "Fox, I swear to god, if you fucking pull another one of your god-damned bloody fucking stunts, I'm going to!-" The Boson roared into the comms. Fox didn't hear the rest of the man's tirade as he disappeared into The Shoals, loosing LCS as he often did when fighting here. He let out soft sigh of relief at the silence, happy to work in peace.

Having pulled back the claw not a moment too soon, the quiet teen spun and twisted the Hugo like a marionette, weaving the nimble mobile suit through the wreckage at anything but safe speeds. With any and all instruments effectively useless here, Fox flew by spatial memory alone. He narrowly juked and dodged around jagged bits of shrapnel, only peripherally aware that a single misstep here would likely be fatal. After a minute or so of seat of the pants flying, Fox settled onto a large piece of ruined ship hull looking "down" on the unfolding battle below. With LCS restored, he spoke up when he heard the comms crackle back to life. "Familiar Five in position."

"What?" Holly barked shrilly as Martyn tried to give orders. The odds seemed stacked in their favor, and she wasn't worried, but if he kept taking charge like this he was going to sow confusion in their own ranks.

"Fine, but Ku- er, Familiar Three. Break off, destroy that boosters pod," she tapped her display, her hand moving nimbly so that it only left the controls for a bare moment. "That's prolly how he got out here all by his lonesome. Don't let him leave with it."

Fox, crazy as his namesake, was already following Martyn's orders, and dove into the weeds, breaking their contact briefly. Holly wasn't super concerned. He usually followed the spirit of his orders more than anything, and wasn't one to be micromanaged in the first place.

As they moved in, the fancy yellow Graze kicked off the lip of the hold in the wreck's hull, and boosted backwards. It moved in a serpentine pattern, dodging the bulk of bullets sprayed haphazardly in its direction, all the while clinging close to the decrepit Gjallarhorn ship. It raised a gun(it looked like an updated version of the 120 that her Graze piloting comrades used), and sprayed back as it retreated astern of the great wreck.

The Big Boi moved in with the rest of the pirates. Holly just barely got the idea that the Schwalbe's creepy sensor orb was focused on her when it corrected its wild fire. She finally heard the shots(silent in the void until they hit you), but she could only laugh. At this range, most of their ballistic weapons were little more a nuisance.

Holly set her LCS comm to an open channel and taunted. "You're all alone out here, rich boy! Come quiet and we might - Agh!"

There was a distinct popping sound, reverberating through the mobile suit from somewhere above the cockpit, and all of her visual feed went blank. Her comrades on the outside, however, could see as a very lucky(or perhaps incredibly skillful) shot pierced the head of Big Boi in the crack where the nanolaminate had been chipped away.

Holly was knocked off course, and felt herself hit something big(the side of the old ship, she realized). She tumbled along it briefly, but managed to catch onto part of it with her mobile suit's arm, a move that would be impossible without the spacial awareness granted by the AVS.

She cursed violent, but tested to ensure her comms were still up.

"Forget me, go get him. Martyn, I guess you're im charge after all."

"Thanks!" Martyn said as his Man Rodi began to shoot at the Graze Scwalbe's legs, still hoping for a nonfatal hit. He then continued to say over the comms, "Keep hammering at him and make sure that he does not reach his booster pod! In fact, blow the latter up if the guy doesn't surrender!"

The Graze Schwalbe's pilot was clearly skilled enough to avoid his shots and the maneuvers of his - Well technically Holly's - team. As it fired back at the foes ringing it, Martyn moved a little closer, earning a jab by the Graze's lance. As he pulled his Man Rodi back, the young man, barely out of boyhood, glanced at what his team was doing, before shouting through the comms, "Familiar Three - Kurt - Do what Holly said and destroy that pod! Familiar Five, fire your anchor wire when ready; we'll try and herd the enemy to your position."

He then pushed his Man Rodi forward again, before telling Familiar Two, aka Theo, "You're right, I am thinking of myself. But if I'm right, all of us can get what we want as well. So follow me, Soldier; I haven't led you wrong, have I?"

Martyn was banking on the fact that he had known Theo for years, and observed him and the others for that long, to try and get Theo's agreement to follow his orders.

The Graze Schwalbe, somehow sensing Theo's indecision, was now rushing at the latter's Graze, trying to impale it with his lance. To him, Theo was the weak link in the ring of foes, a weak link to be broken and shattered. Martyn, seeing this as well, threw caution to the wind and rushed at the Schwalbe, before shouting to Fox, "Fox, Fire your wire anchor now! Hit the Graze Schwalbe!"

Hopefully, it would all go perfectly. Hopefully, the Graze Schwalbe and its pilot would be captured or at worst, the latter might be killed. But Martyn had made his calculations; he can and will apply for amnesty whatever happened, even if the process for applying for amnesty meant accepting the prospect of being watched and thus not being able to implement his plans...

From his place in the dead of space, amongst his comrades and the wreckage of rocks and ships, Thom watched with cold interest. Fox's wild maneuver was met with a skillful offset, he eyed the enemy's Graze with renewed purpose. He's experienced. Good enough to hold his composure against bad odds, he determined, hands gripping the controls. This is all falling apart because of Martyn's impulsiveness.

Then Martyn's words tore through him like a punch from Bosun. It was invasive and tasteless but it brought him back to reality. Reminded him that as member of the Mercurial Witch's mobile suit team; results were demanded. It pushed out the remainder of his doubt, the scorch of battle sharpening his focus.

In a sudden burst, Thom drove the Graze-Z towards the enemy Graze. His shield which had been in a ready position was brought closer to his chest, just enough to anticipate the aim of the lance. Thom exhaled the tension building inside as the distance closed. He eased on his boosters, knowing impact at that speed would harm him just as bad as a direct hit. Martyn was closing in too, trying to play the hero as always, risking everyone's life for his own goals. It was infuriating.

Time collapsed on itself for Thom as the yellow Graze reached him with its lance. CLANG!!!

Thom swatted aside the lance with his shield, a hole tearing through the slab of metal and its wielding-arm. Without skipping a beat, his Graze-Z raised its axe and aimed to decapitate the enemy Graze's lance-arm. The screech of metal reverberated through his machine as the arm was chopped off. But he found dread filling his chest as he peered through his screen. The pilot of the yellow Graze was hardened, his rifle raising to open fire on Thom's cockpit.

"Come on!" he grumbled. "Don't let me die!"

Kurt held the controls of his Graze as steadily as possible as he lined up the shot on the Gjallarhorn mobile suit. While the teenager was waiting for the order to fire, Fox in his Hugo sped past him, firing his rifle. Kurt knew that at this distance those shots would do very little damage but he could see them as warning shots.

As Fox took up a position in some debris, Holly ordered Kurt to take out the enemy Graze’s booster pods. As this was the logical thing to do, Kurt had no problem with the order. Pumping his thrusters, Kurt launched his Graze toward the enemy mobile suit. Raising his rifle, Kurt adjusted its aim, trying to hone in on the Graze Schwalbe’s boosters.

Hoping that the Schwalbe wouldn’t notice him, Kurt hid his Graze between a particularly large piece of debris. Holly then taunted the Schwalbe pilot over an open channel, only to be knocked off course by some gunfire. Martyn took the opportunity to take lead, ordering Kurt to take out the booster pods.

“I know, I know,” replied Kurt over the comms system, “I just need a clear shot.”

The enemy Graze then left the area, heading toward Thom. Taking advantage of this, Kurt left the safety of the debris field and went over to where the Graze Schwalbe had first been spotted. Using his own boosters, Kurt blasted toward the Gjallarhorn wreck and the booster pods that floated near it.

“Alright, here we go,” muttered Kurt.

Once in range, Kurt lined his Graze’s rifle at the booster pods. Letting loose with gunfire, Kurt could only watch as the projectiles barreled through the void of space. As he held his breath, Kurt saw the bullets hit their mark, ripping into one of the pods. Breathing out strongly, Kurt was pretty sure that he had accomplished his mission.

But over his comms he heard Thom say to not let him die. Without thinking, Kurt whipped his Graze around, pointing back at the battle. His stomach felt like it dropped at the prospect of losing another comrade. While he wouldn’t say he was friends with Thom, he did know him enough that he didn’t want him to die.

“Damn it. Hold on,” shouted Kurt over the comms.

Hoping that the booster pods had been rendered unusable, Kurt boosted his Graze back over to the battle. Seeing the Graze Schwalbe right in front of Thom’s Graze-Z, Kurt pushed his mobile suit to the max. He had precious few seconds to get into firing range of the yellow mobile suit, knowing that if he fired now his shots would do nothing.

"Familiar Two, brace yourself." Was the only warning Thom received as Fox's quiet tenor crackled over the LCS. Having taken careful aim, the young man opened fire from his perch with the Hugo's machine gun. Almost all of the rounds flew harmlessly between the two Grazes, a few punching dents in their opponent’s armor with only one finding it's intended target. But one was enough. Punching clean through the magazine of the Schwalbe's rifle, the impact threw off the gun's aim off... and detonated the ammunition within.

The resulting explosion took the Schwalbe's gun hand with it, while Thom's Graze was blasted with molten shrapnel, leaving visually impressive, but mostly superficial damage on the other human debris' mobile suit. "Familiar Five securing target. Captain, requesting further orders for Familiar Squad." Fox announced calmly, an odd contrast to his Hugo's aggressive movements, the space superiority mobile suit already rocketing into the "fight". Instead of slowing down he merely fired one of the Hugo's anchor claws, catching the golden Schwalbe on the way past and sending them both tumbling through space.

Down an arm, a hand and against a pilot with the Alaya Vijinana System, the Schwalbe Graze's pilot stood little chance in the ensuing melee. Before too long, Fox had the Gjallarhorn mobile suit tangled up in the anchor claw's line, the Hugo's foot mounted claws further pinning his target in place. Leaning in, Fox pressed the barrel of his machine gun against the Schwalbe's vulnerable inner frame through a gap in it's armor. "If you'd like to live, I suggest surrender." The young man advised in his usual emotionless tenor, having activated an open comms channel.

"Wait, did you get him?" Holly questioned over the comm as she heard some of the chatter coming from Fox. Her displays were down for good, it seemed, and she couldn't see any of what was happening. Her mapping was still partially functional, based on the last known images, but the Ahab wave ovelay seemed to still be operating in real time. Using this, Holly turned the Big Boi so that its back was to the fancy Graze, and hit the control to open her cockpit.

She heard the wirring of servos as the armor plates moved out of the way, then the hatch in front of her opened forth. She could see now that her sidelong tumble had been stopped by grabbing the edge of the hole in the old wrecked ship's hull. What she saw inside stopped her dead. "Uh, stand by, my system isn't working right..."

The rent in the bulkhead opened to the ship's hangar bay, and there were five mobile suits lined up. Each was unique, and Holly did not recognize any of them. She disconnected her AV and the harness that kept her secured in her seat, then kicked off from the cockpit and drifted into the bay.

It was dark, and she realized the only reason she could see is that there was a computer terminal that was still active after all this time. She drifted over and looked at the screen. It was cracked down the middle, and the only word she could make out was "Wake," which seemed to be part of a button or prompt. She reached a gloved hand out, her breath caught in her throat, and pressed it.

~~~

On the bridge of the Mercurial Witch, Brun was watching with a satisfied smile as her rats tangled the interloper up.

Her reverie was interupted by a bleeping from the console, and Mick spoke up.

"Uh... there's new Ahab waves... I don't even know where they came from! They're right on top of Familiar One, but I don't see anything..."

"Could it be an error? Maybe one of the old reactors shifted when the feral one flew through the debris."

"It's possible..." he sounded like he doubted it, "I don't recognzie the signatures, so it would make sense if they're from older reactors."

~~~

Holly gasped as new light came on in the vast dimness. Five pairs of eyes suddenly flared to life, glaring down at her. As one, their armor shifted, silent in the vacuum, revealing the opening cockpit hatches in their chests. It seemed incredible that any part of them could still work, but Holly chose the friendliest looking one, and kicked off the floor towards it. She pulled herself past the armor plating and into the cockpit. It was light up brightly from all the displays and controls. Unlike the computer terminal out in the hangar, nothing could get to these electronics to damage them.

The cockpit looked remarkably similar to what she was used to. The seat was cushier, but she noticed the Alaya Vijnana interface embedded in it. The controls were also comparable, though without the scratches, scuffs, burns, and other little marks from long, hard use.

Without thinking nearly as much as she should have, Holly plugged the interface in. She made a choked groaning sound as the man-machine interface connected, her body convulsing wildly in the plush seat. The feedback was worse even than her Rodi. As her body relaxed, she gasped out the word "Stolas..."

“Damn it. Hold on,” shouted Kurt over the comms.

Thom had believed he was the kind of man who would face his death with open eyes. He usually told himself this while laying battered and bruised in his rusted cot. Trying to convince himself that he was tough enough not to shy away from the fear. But he was wrong. In that moment, the fear shut his eyes from the barrel of the rifle.

And he found whispers of shame and self hate in the darkness of his eyelids. He waited for the hot shells and crumpling shards of metal to erase him.

..."Familiar Two, brace yourself," Fox warned.

Not a moment too late, dense rounds flushed the space between them. Loud pieces bounced against his Graze-Z, echoing the pelting into clear noise. The flashes of hot orange blinded him a moment before he instinctively boosted away from the action. Once clear, he watched with hard eyes as Fox twisted the veteran Graze into submission. A cool one-liner tossed in for good measure.

After spotting his missing arm and shield floating slowing between ship plating wreckage, Thom dared to thank Fox and Kurt but Holly's voice came over the line first. Thom spoke up, "Yeah, thanks to Fox. It pays to be crazy sometimes."

Her next response furrowed his brows. "Copy, Familiar One. I'll come back you up... not much else to do here."

Thom pulled on his controls, following Holly's Ahad-Wave.

He found her bulky "Big Boi" nestled on the ship, his own mangled Graze-Z landing next to her Man Rodi. He noticed that her cockpit was empty and relayed that info to the others. "Holly's not in Big Boi... I'm getting out to check the hull. Those new signals got me worried."

Thom unlatched himself from his harness and felt the pressure-release of his AV system. He slid his console into its rest position and opened his own cockpit. An electric glow lit the rented hull, that was suspicious. Then he thought seriously of Holly and knew it was just enticing enough to pique her curiosity. He pushed off the metal with tense legs, floating through the hull, and knew his eyes had went wide with shock.

"Stolas..." was blasted from the cockpit of one of mobile suits.

Thom floated on quietly, eyes baring down on a red infernal mobile suit. "Holly that you?" he asked aloud, feeling stupid but close enough to the empty suit to defend himself if needed.

The major had excused himself from the bridge, and instead found himself gearing up to sortie alongside two other pilots, Abdul and Meyer. A veteran mobile suit pilot and a rookie. There were usually pairs like these found on the battlefield, having an older pilot along was reassuring for the young, while the old felt good in having some eager fresh fighters to brag or teach to.

Charles was in the locker room, alongside the two other pilots. He pressed the command panel over by the door, which connected him directly to the bridge.

"Anything? Captain?" The major asked.

"Nothing yet sir. I'll have Abdul and Meyer sortie and look over the ship in case you find some trouble major." The captain said, his voice over the comms were gruff and... odd... almost as if he was crunching on something.

"Finding trouble is what we are here for, captain. I'll head into the zone to find your missing pilot..." Charles slid his hand over the panel and shut off the connection, before nodding towards the two other pilots then the doorway.

"Remember your captain's orders, stay with the ship. If the enemy engage you, pull away from the debris. Do not engage them. They'll shoot you down. Stay within range to your ship and captain." Charles said aloud as he moved down the corridors with the other two pilots in tow.

It didn't take him or the other two long to enter their respective machines, and as soon as the ready came for them to launch they did. One after the other. The two darkblue grazes were first to launch, and they indvidually landed on each side of the ship, landing in places which were meant to be platforms for cargo and less mobile mobile suits or mobile workers.

Soon after their launch it was Charles turn, his custom Geirail taking off with a not too extraordinary speed. But that might be as he was only using the standard Geirail ones at the time being. As he gradually proceeded into the debris zone he put his propulsion at very low, so that he might better conceal his presence amidst all the remnants scattered over the area. Some of the old reactors scattered over the place were likely still functioning. Such finds would eventually find themselves into the hands of scavengers or pirates.

'Control is of outmost importance, not only in a mobile suit but the world as a whole. In chaos none is safe. But is the order which Rustal Elion stands for to be victorious in the end, or will it be...' Charles snapped out of his thought process as his slow drifting amidst the debris was picking up some odd object ahead. Was it the missing scout? Much like himself, this particular scout had been transfered to the vessel. Why would they specifically transfer that one man of no significant rank to this place?

Dwelling on the reasonings of the military higher ups generally provided more headaches than answers, and thus Charles decided to leave it be. What use was it to ponder upon something which he might find out soon enough. The scout couldn't have gotten far. As Charles and his machine, the Gullinkambe drifted closer towards the distant object it turned out to be a ship. An old ship. It was likely a Gjallarhorn one. But Charles couldn't place what type of class the ship were. But there was clear activity there. He could see things swarming by it, like flies around a carcass.

'Looks like the scout was the one being scouted, but even hunters can be hunted...' Charles had a smile begin to crawl up on his lips as he reached out with his arms at the controls. It was time to move, he had gotten close enough and from what he could tell the scout was still alive. That it would be pirates fighting amongst each other in a place like this was rare, and it wasn't profitable for them.

Charles finally allowed his machine to fully use all it's thrusters and he pushed his custom Geirail forth. How Charles loved how it felt, the pressure on his ribcage, how his breathing would be strained, how he could feel his body tense up in anticipation of what would come. The force in which the thrusters of his machines were operating at, was deemed dangerous by many pilots. Even some of the better ones. Then now and again there would be someone who would scoff at the very idea of piloting an outdated model.

"Let us awaken the dormant to fight, Gullinkambe!" Charles said in an eager manner, he wanted to see just what opponents he would encounter this fateful day. He had already passed beyond the point where he could no longer contact the ship which he had launched from, the amount of debris would cause interference. However within a short distance in the field such would surely...

"This is Le Greif! Come in, Ortega! Status report? Over!" He called out on the signal ID which the scout should have had according to the captain, before turning on the open channel. "This is Major Charles Le Greif, of the Arianrhod fleet. Unknown mobile suit pilots, under the laws of Gjallarhorn you are to state your intentions and if it is regarded as unlawful we demand that you surrender. You will not be harmed. I repeat, you will not be harmed if you comply. Over." Charles said in a loud if not abit stoic manner over the channel, no doubt there would be some reaction. A part of him was craving for battle, while the other was craving for knowledge just what was going on here. If he would be lucky, perhaps he could obtain both.

Being all formal and speaking of the current laws of Gjallarhorn was making him partly ill on the inside. It was far simpler to just do battle, and letting someone else do the talking. It wasn't that he disliked to talk, on the contrary, Charles was fond of speaking with others. But not in the formal kind. Philosophical, existencial discussions were more to his liking. And matters regarding the near future, and what could be done to make it better. Better was such a subjective word.

Martyn

Even if Martyn knew what Thom thought of him, he still wouldn't let the other pilot die. As Kurt and Fox stepped in to save the latter, Martyn thanked them, saying, "You did a good job; Thank you."

Then it was time to enter the ship alongside Holly and the now-captive Schwalbe Graze and Pilot. And inside was the fulfillment of all of Martyn's hopes; an unexpected windfall that meant everything to him. Opening his cockpit, Martyn approached the nearest of the strange Mobile Suits, entering the automatically-opened cockpit and hooking his AV up to it.

The data feedback was unexpected but bearable; it was confirmation indeed that this was a Gundam Frame, one of the 72 MSes which was created for the Calamity War. And what was unexpected was that this Frame was rightfully his. For this Frame, Gundam Ipos, was the En-Issue Family's by right due to them being the last living relations to the Issue Family.

Martyn then radioed Holly over the comms, saying, "These babies don't have explosives in them. Furthermore, anyonee with half a brain can deduce that these Mobile Suits are Gundams. If true, we might have the key to freeing our friends, but we need to be careful that the Jolly Roger Pirates do not send them to fight against us. Perhaps a rapid strike -"

"This is Major Charles Le Greif, of the Arianrhod fleet. Unknown mobile suit pilots, under the laws of Gjallarhorn you are to state your intentions and if it is regarded as unlawful we demand that you surrender. You will not be harmed. I repeat, you will not be harmed if you comply. Over."

Using the Gundam Ipos' comms, Martyn - No, Martin - was the first to open a channel, hoping full well that his old memories were accurate, and that he can call upon the shadow of a half-remembered bond, if indeed it was a bond, in order to achieve his goals. Opening his mouth, hoping that no one else spoke first, Martin said, "Uncle Charles! It's me, Martin - I know it's been seven years, but I hope you remember me! I'm not dead; I just got taken by pirates and turned into, well, you already know!"

He then continued, "I can prove my story with a DNA test; you'll find that I'm an exact match for the 'presumed dead' heir of the branch family you guarded seven years ago before they went off to Jupiter to... That isn't important now! As it is, help us take on our former captors and liberate the people they have currently enslaved!"

There was a moment's pause before he resumed, "Ignore this and you'll be fighting five Gundam Frames, by the way. Gundam Frames I have a blood claim to if the DNA test proves positive. Oh; and your Schwalbe Graze Pilot is alive - We made sure not to kill him lest it draw your wrath..."

Thom is going to dislike me even more for what I just said; all of it, Martin was worried, obviously.