Today, Char was still undergoing adaptation training in the Messer.
For Char, who hadn't been in contact with the Messer for very long, performing several more simulation sessions was the only way to fully master the machine and draw out its complete performance.
Of course, his youthful heart and soul made him subconsciously desire a custom machine—ideally one with a red paint job.
However, he was well aware of Mafty's situation; custom machines were not something one could simply demand.
Even with that black-haired Amuro protecting him, accidents were inevitable in battle. Since there was no custom machine available, enhancing his personal strength was the best option.
He also wondered exactly when that black-haired Amuro would arrest him and toss him back to his own era.
Just as Char finished a simulation session and was about to have a drink of water and rest, Hathaway Noa stood before him.
Dressed in his suit, Hathaway's expression was conflicted, like someone standing in the center of a scale, constantly sliding as the weights shifted on either side.
"Yo, Hathaway. What's the plan for today?"
Char greeted Hathaway, helping himself to a bottle of water.
Hathaway looked at Char and, seemingly having finally made up his mind, took a deep breath.
"Damien, get ready today. You're coming with me to the Moon."
Upon hearing Hathaway's words, Char's movements paused for a moment.
"Why?"
Char took a sip of water, tightened the cap, and tucked the bottle into his vest pocket. "If I recall correctly, the Moon holds Federation bases as well as Anaheim Electronics' headquarters. Even the lunar colonies are under Federation surveillance."
"How do you intend to bring someone who looks almost exactly like Char Aznable in there?"
Char turned his head, his blue eyes looking seriously at Hathaway. "Or rather, what is it you want to do by bringing me there?"
"On one hand, I need to coordinate with Anaheim to finalize the delivery of the Gundam."
Facing Char's questioning, Hathaway stated his thoughts without hesitation. "And also, it's to help secure a custom machine for you... your strength is being limited by the Messer. You need a better mobile suit."
Perhaps it was the instinct of a Newtype that made him feel this man, who looked almost identical to Char Aznable, was trustworthy.
Regardless, Hathaway had been agonizing over this decision until the moment he arrived.
His own long-awaited custom machine—Hathaway actually had a channel to secure one from Anaheim Electronics?
Char raised an eyebrow slightly, a sense of unreality washing over him, but he still wanted to hear Hathaway's plan.
"What do you intend to do?"
"I'll use my title—the name of Hathaway Noa, son of the Federation hero Bright Noa—and that face of yours, which is virtually indistinguishable from Char's."
Hathaway took a deep breath, trying his best to remain calm, even though he wasn't certain this would succeed.
"I'm going to get a mobile suit on credit."
It was a plan that sounded almost like child's play, yet Hathaway knew there was a possibility of pulling it off.
After all, the machine he had personally reserved was obtained exactly like that: taken from Anaheim on credit using his own name.
"Will they really agree to that?"
Hearing Hathaway's words, Char couldn't help but frown. "A custom machine, granted for nothing more than a title and a face? That seems far too frivolous."
"They are a military-industrial complex," Hathaway explained, his hands habitually clenching and unclenching. "To them, the more chaotic the world becomes, the higher the profits they can reap. Although the reappearance of the Zeon remnants caught them off guard for a while, they now intend to use both Mafty and the Zeon remnants to secure even greater interests."
"When profit reaches a certain level, these capitalists will view everything in the world as worthless."
Faced with Hathaway's explanation, Char couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "To think that, in the end, it is their greed that grants us an opportunity."
"Although the Federation Bureau of Investigation failed to find anything when they investigated Anaheim last time, the Gundam I reserved won't stay hidden for long... Anaheim intends to hand over that 'hot potato' of a machine to me as quickly as possible."
At the thought of this, Hathaway felt a strange sense of urgency, a pressure so heavy it almost made it hard to breathe.
The schedule was too tight; events were unfolding one after another, leaving him absolutely no time to think.
"When the coordination begins... I will take you to Anaheim to conduct the negotiations."
"Fine then... I'll follow your lead."
Char shrugged. Since Hathaway was determined to get him a custom machine, why refuse?
Besides, Char wasn't exactly a man of great independent initiative yet; back in '79, he had mostly been drifting with the tide, possessed by no other thoughts beyond his revenge against the Zabi family.
And even now, he still felt like a lone leaf, tumbling and drifting through the tides of the era. Within him, aside from the obsession of "wanting to see Artesia one last time," there was only a void.
"So, what pretext do you plan to use to go to the Moon?"
"Visiting family."
Hathaway gave his reason almost instinctively.
"My father, Bright, is currently leading his ship through a refit and docking on the Moon. This is a perfect opportunity."
This was also why Hathaway was unwilling to distance his name from the Federation.
His status as the son of Bright Noa provided him with immense convenience, allowing him to operate freely within the Federation and secure a high-ranking position.
When Char heard Hathaway mention Bright's name, he froze for a split second.
Bright Noa—the former captain of the White Base and the Federation hero who later formed the Londo Bell unit...
The corner of Char's mouth curled into a smile, as if a thought had occurred to him.
In that case, should he take this chance to catch up with this "old friend"—someone other than Amuro—and reminisce about the past?
-----------------------------------
While Hathaway and Char were plotting to head to the Moon, find Anaheim, and secure a custom machine for Char, Bright Noa looked at the paper report before him—his retirement application, rejected yet again—and couldn't help but sigh.
"Was the application returned again, Captain?"
The executive officer standing beside Bright caught a glimpse of the notice in his hand.
He felt nothing but disdain for the Federation military's tactics. "Does the Federation High Command truly intend to force you to serve until the very last possible day before allowing you to retire?"
Truthfully, Bright had applied for retirement so many times, and every single one had been rejected.
Even the mobile suits and infantry of the 13th Independent Fleet were starting to feel indignant.
"It can't be helped. My status and title carry a certain weight; they likely have plans involving them."
Bright put away the paper notice. He already had a small box of these things piling up in his quarters.
He applied almost every time the mandatory waiting period expired, but the results were always the same.
The title of "Federation Hero" had immense propaganda value. Furthermore, Bright's name served to stabilize morale within the Federation military.
In this era, where Mafty's operations were becoming increasingly rampant and the Federation's upper echelons had begun to rot—viewing Earth as their own private backyard—the Federation military was certainly not going to let go of someone who provided stability.
"Then they're going too far."
At that moment, the helmsman, who was checking the status of the Ra Cailum's thrusters, also voiced his dissatisfaction. "The Captain has given so much for the Federation, yet he isn't even allowed to retire and go home?!"
Although Londo Bell had long since been disbanded, everyone from top to bottom in this newly established 13th Independent Fleet had been won over by Bright's personal charisma.
"Your voice is a bit sharp; don't speak like that outside."
Hearing the helmsman's pointed remark, Bright shook his head.
Just then, a notification popped up on Bright's phone.
Under normal circumstances, mobile phones were supposed to be powered off and locked away in the dormitories.
However, since there was currently no combat on the Moon, and given Bright's status as Captain, everyone tacitly ignored the fact that he was carrying one.
Of course, once actual operations began, Bright would dutifully leave the device in his quarters.
He pulled out the phone and read the new email. The deep furrow in his brow gradually smoothed out, replaced by a genuine sense of pleasant surprise.
"It seems you all can rest for a little while longer," Bright said, turning off the screen and slipping the phone back into his pocket. "Hathaway heard we were refitting on the Moon and plans to come here to meet me."
"That's a rare chance to see family, Captain!"
Upon hearing the news, the crew felt happy for Bright's upcoming visit, despite their lingering resentment over the Federation's constant exploitation of him.
"If I recall correctly, it's been a long time since you last saw Hathaway, hasn't it?" The executive officer smiled at Bright. "Leave the matters of the Ra Cailum to me for now."
For crews sailing through the void of space, seeing family was a luxury that often took a very long time to realize.
Consequently, whenever a ship was docked and a relative came to visit, the Federation Navy personnel—regardless of rank or whether they knew the visitor personally—would always go out of their way to make things easier.
"Speaking of which, about the Federation Military Dependents' First Elementary School..."
Bright was happy, but a thought seemed to strike him as he turned to the executive officer.
"You're asking about Amuro's son, right?"
The executive officer smiled, clearly knowing exactly what was on Bright's mind. "It's the same as before. The teachers say he's very bright and will have no trouble getting into middle school. When the time comes, we can pull some strings to get him into the First Junior High for military dependents."
"However, it seems Amuro's boy is more interested in piloting civilian MS. He's snuck into the school warehouse several times and driven a civilian unit out onto the training field."
"That kid... he's just like his father."
Bright chuckled, unable to stop himself from reminiscing about the past—specifically, the image of Amuro during the White Base era.
"Still, my Hathaway and Cheimin are better; they're much more well-behaved."
.....................