Two Aces In A Hole

Volk snapped another salute, then turned, limp-crutching as fast as he could towards the hanger and his Zaku.

Well, the choice was obvious; dump fuel to the burners and let superior Zeon construction send him home safe and sound. Dopps were far faster than anything the Feddies had out here, especially those sad Silverfish’s. 

“We’ll be oscar mike within a minute fifty.”

He would take a bit longer to get to his Zaku, but damned if he wasn’t going to TRY. 

As it turned out, the few operational mobile suits of the Walking Dead Battalion were scrambled and ready in one minute and fifteen seconds, the best time that Volk had ever seen them do. He was actually quite proud.

Now sealed in his armor, settled into the padding of the control seat of his Zaku, he glanced around.

He gave the Dopp’s controls and gauges a brief once-over – Garma was nothing if not thorough, even in the short notice imminent conflict brought. Even if nothing malfunctioned or ran out, being unable to assist the Battalion when necessary would be a severe blight on Garma. Worse still, it would mark him a coward and a liar in the eyes of all, and Kycilia would know of it before all others…

He cleared the thought from his head, stilling his nervous breaths as they echoed through his helmet, easing his Dopp into the launch bay like clockwork…

Behind Garma stood the four active Zaku’s of the Walking Dead, Volk’s personalized one out front. All stood ready on their launch ramps. 

There was a THUNK as the launch catapult slid into place for each.

Volk snapped another salute, then turned, limp-crutching as fast as he could towards the hanger and his Zaku.

Well, the choice was obvious; dump fuel to the burners and let superior Zeon construction send him home safe and sound. Dopps were far faster than anything the Feddies had out here, especially those sad Silverfish’s. 

“We’ll be oscar mike within a minute fifty.”

He would take a bit longer to get to his Zaku, but damned if he wasn’t going to TRY. 

As it turned out, the few operational mobile suits of the Walking Dead Battalion were scrambled and ready in one minute and fifteen seconds, the best time that Volk had ever seen them do. He was actually quite proud.

Now sealed in his armor, settled into the padding of the control seat of his Zaku, he glanced around.

“Crystal.” Bishop stood straighter and saluted properly, making sure his boots were nice and even with each other as he did. 

“Anything you give me, I’ll get to those who need it.”

Well that had gone a lot easier than he had expected… Though who this new Commander was, that could be…interesting. 

But he’d gotten along with all kinds of people working as a mercenary pilot. He’d work with whoever she sent. 

“Commander Malkal?”

Euphemia spoke up, asking for the Commander to make her apperance. She had violet eyes and blonde hair, moving with ease as she kept her stance firm, she holding no fear, no qualms of her position. She was a commander. She had no reason to fret.

“Lady Euphemia.”

Euphemia gave her the instructions, before she remarked. 

“Godspeed.”

And Euphemia left.

He would reserve his thoughts on competence for whenever it was needed. 

“Its a pleasure to meet you, by the way.”

Garma thanked Hester for informing them, giving her a curt nod. There wasn’t any time to discuss Sergeant Haring’s suit further, he feared – the Walking Dead Squadron now had more urgent business to attend to, and his presence gave them a target.

His eyes met Sergeant Haring’s once more. “Understood. I’ll send the suit over as soon as I can acquire it – we’ll stay in contact. In the meantime, my leave should give the Feddies enough of a distraction so as not to disturb you any further.”

He gave a final salute before he took his leave, his face a mask of determination. “Thank you all. Again, I promise my support…”

It had happened once before. The day of explosive rain had been hell, before they’d managed to wade a quartet of Zaku’s across the shallower bank of the Columbia and knock them out. Even then the “Graveyard of the Pacific” had nearly claimed one of the suits, the sandbar it stood upon suddenly vanishing as a wave washed the sand out from under it. 

“Understood. Direct me to the pilots leading the frontal assault with me, then – I’ll strategize a plan for distraction. I leave your unit to your own mission,” he assured, conviction in his dark eyes. 

“A leaders place is at the front lines, and as much as I hate to admit it, my Zaku’s one of the few we have with a working 100mm machine gun still. We might have another two suits to bring to the front, but that’s about it. Everyone else has Heat Hawks and ‘zukas. ”

It would still work though…if they planned it out right. 

A 100mm rifle… Garma twirled a lock of hair. Impressive. Even for a single Zaku, that’s all the firepower we’d likely need…

Volk turned back to Garma. 

Garma thanked Hester for informing them, giving her a curt nod. There wasn’t any time to discuss Sergeant Haring’s suit further, he feared – the Walking Dead Squadron now had more urgent business to attend to, and his presence gave them a target.

His eyes met Sergeant Haring’s once more. “Understood. I’ll send the suit over as soon as I can acquire it – we’ll stay in contact. In the meantime, my leave should give the Feddies enough of a distraction so as not to disturb you any further.”

He gave a final salute before he took his leave, his face a mask of determination. “Thank you all. Again, I promise my support…”

It had happened once before. The day of explosive rain had been hell, before they’d managed to wade a quartet of Zaku’s across the shallower bank of the Columbia and knock them out. Even then the “Graveyard of the Pacific” had nearly claimed one of the suits, the sandbar it stood upon suddenly vanishing as a wave washed the sand out from under it. 

“Understood. Direct me to the pilots leading the frontal assault with me, then – I’ll strategize a plan for distraction. I leave your unit to your own mission,” he assured, conviction in his dark eyes. 

“A leaders place is at the front lines, and as much as I hate to admit it, my Zaku’s one of the few we have with a working 100mm machine gun still. We might have another two suits to bring to the front, but that’s about it. Everyone else has Heat Hawks and ‘zukas. ”

It would still work though...if they planned it out right. 

I don’t have much when it comes to icons and such, but - this is a new Amuro Ray account, as you might be able to see. Mostly focused on Mobile Suit Gundam, though crossovers are definitely appreciated, and expansion into other series is definitely possible. 

I’m a very experienced roleplayer and quite nice. 

Garma thanked Hester for informing them, giving her a curt nod. There wasn’t any time to discuss Sergeant Haring’s suit further, he feared – the Walking Dead Squadron now had more urgent business to attend to, and his presence gave them a target.

His eyes met Sergeant Haring’s once more. “Understood. I’ll send the suit over as soon as I can acquire it – we’ll stay in contact. In the meantime, my leave should give the Feddies enough of a distraction so as not to disturb you any further.”

He gave a final salute before he took his leave, his face a mask of determination. “Thank you all. Again, I promise my support…”

It had happened once before. The day of explosive rain had been hell, before they’d managed to wade a quartet of Zaku’s across the shallower bank of the Columbia and knock them out. Even then the “Graveyard of the Pacific” had nearly claimed one of the suits, the sandbar it stood upon suddenly vanishing as a wave washed the sand out from under it. 

“Not for me. Too far gone. I’m looking at the future generations, the ones that are going to be born and live in half-shattered colonies, or the inside of Axis. The only place with less gravity than a space colony is the inside of an asteroid fortress that doesnt really move. And I dont think anyones come up with an answer for fixing that just yet.”

At least she dreamed big. That alone was fairly valuable to them. A lot of the thinkers of both sides of the One Year War had ended up radioactive space dust.

He turned back to face her mobile suit, looking it up and down again.

Perhaps he could ask her for help with their own MS programs…but later.

Or he’d just let Char do it.

She nods softly. “Fair enough. I can… try at least. I’m fairly sure I can help.” She gives a small sigh. “People really can be a mess, can’t they… That things would get this far out of hand…” She says that more to herself than anyone in particular.

With that she pulls out a small tablet and starts working away at it, her tail swishing behind her now and then. “Out of curiosity, Volk. What is… your thoughts on the AEUG from the time of the Gryps conflict?”

That had not changed. He would, and always would be, hate Earthnoids. Hate the Federation, or whatever might replace it. It was in his blood. 

“If there’s another group like that forming, I’m interested.”

He could care less about corruption. But to fight again...