Metal and Paper

As he sat at the desk he’d commandeered onboard the Bangkok, Richard let out a heavy sigh. The past two days had been tumultuous to say the least. Prior to the engagement against the still moronically-named Bollocks Fleet, he’d been extremely nervous since they’d never been up against numbers that great before and with so many of the fleet’s aces still unused to their new Gelgoogs and the enemy’s close proximity to the Ohm Fleet, he’d feared the worst. Their crushing victory had come as a total surprise to him, and even now he had a hard time believing that they’d pulled it off. However, even that victory had been tainted with some sadness. Somehow they’d lost the Lucifer’s Fury, and with it Captain Beria, one of the few people who’d been with the ZEF almost since it had first been formed in early September. And try as he might, he couldn’t find a flaw in their tactics that had allowed the ship to be lost, meaning that the sheer weight of the enemy’s numbers had counted for something in the end.

”No use fretting about it now, I suppose…it’s not what Beria would’ve wanted anyone to do. Hell, she’d probably yell and or punch someone for moping about this. We’re alive, and thankfully, none of the new transfers lost their lives…we’ve lost too many pilots as it is, and we can ill-afford to replace them. You just watch us, Captain. We’ll get the feddies who killed you and Dima…assuming we didn’t do so all ready.”

The promotions had been a welcome boon to their forces, and the news that Veronica had been promoted to Brigadier General had shocked him. Perhaps the weight of the success of their mission in Side 6 and the defeat of the bulk of what seemed to be one of the largest EFSF fleets to date had shown that the brain behind the ZEF deserved to break through the promotional glass ceiling that seemed to exist where the higher ranks were concerned. And for once, he actually felt that he deserved the new Gelgoog that he’d been issued. One thing that had struck him as odd with that engagement had been how easily he’d been able to out maneuver some of the Federal mobile suits. Hell, he’d been able to completely ignore one when he’d taken out a Salamis until after it had gone down. But with the war having drug on as long as it had, it wasn’t an unreasonable thought that both sides were getting desperate and simply couldn’t find nearly as many experienced pilots to all place in the same fleet. And the new suit that Florian had been issued…he’d been stunned.

”Perfect Zeong…Grenada sure knows how to name things. But to pack that much firepower in a single mobile suit! That thing out-guns a Musai from what the specs said…at least if that last battle means anything. But to include an escape pod, or at least something that can be used as such, shows that they’re thinking more about pilot survival, and I’d be lying if I said that Florian wasn’t one of the most valuable pilots we have on this fleet.”

The subsequent attack on the ZEF by that lone Pegasus had been unpleasant, but not unexpected. They’d known that it was nearby and that it would likely attack them, so both he and Veronica had placed Emil and the rest of the fleet that could still fight on standby in case. The loss of both of the Recon Zakus had probably impeded their ability to spot the attackers ahead of time, which annoyed him greatly, especially given what had happened. Gundams, or so the rumors said that the machines were called, had been the attackers. And with some of their best pilots unable to act…he shuddered involuntarily at the thought of what could’ve happened if they hadn’t been careful. Losing the Nyarlathotep had been an unpleasant, and unwanted, surprise. Though the engineers assured him that the attacker had gotten lucky, it was cold comfort for him.

“Lucky or not, those were good men and women we lost because of that blue bastard…even if we managed to get all of the other ships out intact, we can’t replace them easily. I just can’t allow myself to start to think of them as disposable resources to be tossed at a problem and then discarded…if I do, I’ll be no better than the Feddies.”

But something told him that they’d gotten the better end of the deal despite the Nyarlathotep’s loss. The Federal commander hadn’t pressed the attack and none of the other ships attacking them had been real, just balloons. Either their foe that day had been too reluctant to commit any other ships he had, or had none that could attack, and Richard knew that the vessel that had attacked had taken some damage from the ZEF’s guns. How much, he couldn’t say, but hopefully enough to keep it off their backs for a long enough period of time. And perhaps more importantly, they’d lost none of their best pilots, though all of the suits within the ZEF looked like they’d been either chewed on by a giant dog or lit on fire in a slow burn. If they’d all been at full strength, he had full confidence that they would’ve decimated their attackers. But perhaps this experience had proven to the Federation that even damaged, Zeon’s elite pilots were more than a match for their own elite.

“We can still win this. This is our backyard, not theirs, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them get anywhere near Side 3. If these last few days have proven anything, it’s that we still have what it takes to push them back to Earth…where they belong.”

He chuckled darkly when he realized he’d spoken out loud that time. Nobody else was around, but something told him he should save it for a speech when he next got the opportunity to do so. Assuming he was able to, as if the recent series of events had taught him anything, every mission could be one’s last. And then, who would take care of the piles of paperwork on his desk? He didn’t wish having to deal with it on any of his colleagues. Rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly, he stood up and made his way to the galley in search of some coffee. There truly was no rest for the wicked, it seemed. And they certainly qualified for that description.