[Hathaway's Flash] Vol.03 Ch.07

CHAPTER.07
GET AHEAD

　His voice infused with approval, Kenneth commended Lane for his swift, adept maneuvering.
　"If you truly mean that, then I am indeed honored, but...?" Lane ventured, uncertainty lacing his tone.
　Kenneth cut him short. "Young man, you fail to grasp the stark nature of war. It's not always about eliminating enemy mobile suits. Escape can be the superior tactic at times. And you seem to have an affinity for this strategy. Moreover, you neutralized four enemy suits with the Penelope."
　Lane protested, "No, I... I only eliminated three."
　"From the debris that plummeted to the ground, it's evident you downed four." Kenneth persisted, soot smudging his face as he continued to fix Lane with a penetrating stare.
　"Your modesty puzzles me. Why?"
　Lane's heart thudded with surprise at this sudden scrutiny. Kenneth appeared to gaze into the inner workings of his mind.
　"You appear profoundly sincere. A stark contrast from when I was with Gigi."
　Maintaining eye contact with Kenneth became an escalating struggle for Lane. A chilling realization washed over him - Kenneth seemed to possess an uncanny ability to decipher the emotional undercurrents of his subordinates, no matter his location.
　"Well... How do I put this... I suspect I'm starting to comprehend why Gigi Andalusia holds such significance to you, Captain, or should I say, Commodore..."
　Kenneth challenged him, "Are you sure it's not a product of your imagination? It might be a mere coincidence."
　"Perhaps. I'd like to believe that. But the dynamics, the variance when Gigi's present and when she's absent... It seems too ideal." Lane confessed.
　"Is it, though? For all we know, she could be aligned with Mafty's side now."
　"Ah... Yes, that's plausible."
　Meanwhile, Francine, secretary, was busy on the phone, reporting Director Hundley Yeoksan's narrow escape.
　"Hmm... Did you arrange for his pick-up and inquire about his injuries?"
　"Certainly, sir," Francine confirmed as she resumed her call. Kenneth issued an order to Lane, "Be prepared to leave at a moment's notice."
　"Sir!" Lane replied with a crisp salute and an infusion of determination before leaving the command center.
　Francine's voice echoed behind him, "The Director is next to the second aid station in the reception room."
　Armed with this information, Kenneth descended into the dank underground corridor, his footsteps reverberating along the stone-cold walls. A riding crop swung in his hand, crackling as it cut through the air, an ineffective remedy for his simmering irritation.
　"I can't remain confined here indefinitely!" Kenneth muttered to himself, the crop slicing through the stale air again.
　Upon reaching the reception room, Kenneth greeted Hundley Yeoksan, the Chief of the Criminal Police Organization. His left arm, swathed in bandages, stood as a silent testament to his recent ordeal.
　"How are you holding up?"
　"I was trapped under concrete, crushed my fingers." Yeoksan grimaced at Kenneth's inquiry.
　"We'll reassess your injuries later this afternoon." The medical officer informed him before exiting the room.
　"So you were asleep until the bombing commenced?" Yeoksan couldn't resist adding a dash of sarcasm to his comment directed at Kenneth.
　"I am deeply sorry. I won't make excuses. If there's room for it, I am prepared to be dismissed." Kenneth offered solemnly.
　Hundley Yeoksan, unsurprisingly, remained composed. "Now's not the time for such thoughts. Half the cabinet is dead. We can only speculate about the survival chances of the injured..."
　"That's an unfortunate truth. I could dismiss you anytime. Currently, our focus should be on our air defense system. If the barrier remains ineffective and we lose the entire cabinet, it's a disgrace to the Federation government." Yeoksan remarked.
　"Can't I vent a little frustration?" Kenneth protested lightly.
　"One complaint is fine. Fetch me a coffee." Yeoksan requested, his tone nonchalant.
　At his behest, Kenneth used the intercom to request coffee before he added, "We simply ran out of time."
　"I presume the Cabinet members would hold the view that if they could stay on Earth, they shouldn't gripe."
　"Yes... We've secured the barrier lines. We can fend off the second wave."
　"Hmm... So that's the state of affairs? But the Circe unit's mobile suits are dwindling in numbers, correct?"
　"Mafty is approaching its limits as well. We may only have five operational mobile suits left."
　"So, no evacuation of the city then?"
　"That's the plan..."
　Just then, Francine entered with the requested coffee.
　The echo of death had hollowed out their ranks, snuffing out most of the military-related cabinet. A hush swept over the two men, now holding the reins of Adelaide's defense.
　"Gigi Andalusia," Kenneth said, breaking the silence, "You're familiar with the name, I presume?"
　"Hmm?" Just as he was savoring the first sip of his coffee, the Director pinned Kenneth with a questioning look. The girl's name hovered in the air, seemingly familiar yet elusive.
　"When she was around the Circe Unit, things... they seemed to unfold rather favorably."
　"The Haunzen landing in Davao?"
　"Not merely then, but in the ensuing aftermath too… However, upon her arrival here, Mafty abducted her."
　"The Ayers Rock skirmish? Yes, they did take her away on a Base Jabber."
　"As a talisman of sorts?"
　"Hmm… So… Are you insinuating that Gigi aligned with Mafty?"
　"Finding amusement in this, are we?"
　"Hardly amusing," Despite his words, mirth was conspicuously absent from Yeoksan's gaze. He had borne witness to the unsettling incident of the Haunzen hijacking and could empathize with the emotional toll levied on a commander of Kenneth's ilk.
　Astute leaders, while not omniscient, possess a keen grasp of the overarching patterns within their ranks. More often than not, it isn't pure logic at play; even trivial matters can incite a flutter of imagination, hinting at potential ramifications.
　"But, that's overly romantic."
　Kenneth registered the unspoken weight of the director's "but." As an adult, it was incumbent upon him not to elaborate on this contentious point. His role now was to surrender to the ebb and flow of events, confined to his chair— a fitting symbol of adulthood and the Federation government's hallmark philosophy of "waiting." Such conditions paved the way for agitators like Mafty. Yet, Kenneth held his peace on this matter. His current desire, raw and fervent, was to retaliate against Mafty.
　The sting of defeat, the indignity of a retreat, the humiliation from the high command—it gnawed at his self-worth. Perhaps it was this strong sense of pride that had spelled the end of his marriage to his first wife, Julie.
　"If Mafty were to strike again, where do you reckon they'd target?"
　"Unlikely the Festival Center. They'd probably endeavor to wipe out the remnants stationed at the airport."
　"Hmm... Is this location optimal?"
　The director glanced upwards at the ceiling, musing,
　"Even a nuclear onslaught wouldn't breach our defenses here."
　"Is that so? I want to believe that."
　The director polished off his coffee, the final dregs echoing his sentiments.
　"What's your prediction? Will the nascent cabinet, conceived in the wake of this incident, fare any better?"
　In response to Kenneth's query, the director, grimacing against the gnawing pain in his arm, retorted, "That question borders on being pro-Mafty."
　"It's a universal sentiment."
　"Are you privy to the recent passing of the bill?"
　"When?"
　"Just prior to the bombing, earlier today."
　"You're kidding."
　"The advent of communication technologies enables the dissemination of such bills across all Federation government branches. The bureaucrats and government will dictate Earth migration."
　"Why not dissolve it? Isn't that tantamount to endorsing Mafty's actions?"
　"Our livelihood hinges on such undertakings. Consider it from that perspective."
　"Our very lives hang in the balance."
　"Well, me too. I barely escaped death."
　"Is that so?"
　Kenneth forged ahead, ignoring Hundley Yeoksan's unspoken request for a refill, "Have there been any arrests of journalists suspected of Mafty affiliations?"
　"Man Hunter isn't a military outfit. Besides, I've yet to receive any reports of such individuals loitering. The Adelaide bombing doesn't play into Mafty's hands, unlike Oenbelli."
　"I'm referring to the scouts, the couriers, the like."
　"Hmm... A few have been apprehended for dubious activities. Should we parade them amidst the Festival Center ruins?"
　"That seems apt. It would serve as a psychological barricade, far more potent than any physical one."
　"Shall we proceed?"
　"The responsibility to render such efforts futile falls on the mobile suit squad, led by the Penelope."
　"Oh… Well, we could formalize the minutes of our meeting right here. Bureaucrats value honesty, don't they?"
　"Hearing such tales makes one inclined towards Mafty."
　"Utter that again, and I'll have you arrested for treason and subject you to a clandestine trial."
　"Well... that's after Adelaide…"
　Kenneth bared his gleaming teeth in a tight smile for the first time, punctuating the air with a sharp rap of his riding crop against the table's edge.

　At that moment, the 13th Autonomous Fleet, including the Ra Cailum and two other vessels that had entered Earth's artificial satellite orbit, plotted their descent. Each vessel, equipped with Minovsky Crafts, boasted the capability to navigate even in gravity-bound atmospheres.
　Captain Bright Noa, ensconced on the bridge of the Ra Cailum, cast his gaze on the Earth, resplendent in radiant blue and cloaked in a swath of cloud cover.
　"Captain! All vessels are primed!"
　"Hmm…"
　Hearing this, Bright hurriedly pulled himself away from his concern about whether his unacquainted son Hathaway was catching a cold on some southern island.
　"Alright! Initiate atmospheric entry! Secure yourselves, everyone!"
　The trio of vessels, each swathed in a dense shroud of beam barriers to safeguard their crews, gradually steepened their descent. The azure expanse of the Pacific Ocean beckoned them from below. They were scheduled to infiltrate Earth's southern hemisphere via an indirect route.
　"Well, perhaps a woman should warrant more concern than a common cold?"
　Bright couldn't help but indulge in paternal speculation despite the violent tremors triggered by the atmospheric entry.