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A Withdrawn Existence
And the dying Embers of Hope

[Image: BretFlagMedium.png]

Cambridge System - Kingdom of Bretonia
Grantchester Space Port
Planet Cambridge



"Each of the actions I have made had created a twisting pathway that I now find myself traversing. Apparently the only way I'll be able to see happiness is by searching for the end, when I can finally be laid to rest, and dream a long dream."



Grantchester Space Port.

If you were to ask anyone on planet Cambridge what the largest space port was and where to find it, they would point you to Grantchester. The massive port was the center piece for Cambridge City, a sprawling metropolis that had made up the heart of Cambridge society - both rich and poor.

It was also the place that you would find the largest police and military presence, ranging from active-duty personnel doing random pat downs, to off-duty officers taking a break from the front-lines of the Tau Conflict. It was also one of the most populated centers due to it's close distance to the famous beaches of Cambridge, where tourism mixed with local businesses.

A location he found himself at after a two hour drive from his ranch, his families ranch to be exact.

"I'm not a miracle you know." He had repeated to himself, recalling the final moments of leaving his home. He had only one thing left to fight for, and that was currently in an unstable condition in the medical wing of Cambridge Research Station. His mind was already preoccupied with the news of a twelve year old being assaulted and stabbed, a twelve year old girl he saw as a younger sister, and while he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was slowly fighting back his hatred for the Kusari culture to actually learn it in an attempt to get to know the girl better; however, that might not be the case if she was dead.

On the drive, he had contacted his personal doctor, Doctor Carla Wellings, to inform her that he would be leaving Cambridge, and that he was taking one of his ships up to the Cambridge Research Station in orbit. She had protested this idea, and told him she would buy him tickets for the next transport to leave, which he reluctantly agreed upon.

As natural for him, he blamed himself for her being injured. Had he been out there where his people needed him, she may not have been injured. It was this particular moment he found himself pissed off at everything that had happened in the last month. Maybe if he wasn't so careless... maybe if he wasn't... he sighed heavily as he pulled the car into a parking space, taking in a deep breath before rolling the windows up and shutting the engine off.

Now wasn't the time to get pissed off at himself. He had to get to Cambridge Research Station. He had to get to medical wing G, room 96. He had to make sure she was going to make it. Every second he doubted himself, or hesitated, would be a second ticked off on her lifespan.

After climbing out of the car and locking it up, he shoved both of his hands into his jacket pockets, thankfully being able to stop and change into something more than swimming trunks and a black shirt. The jacket sleeves rode up just enough for the white bandages on his wrists to show, a reminder to him now to do background checks on every single woman he comes in contact with, to ensure they're not mentally insane, a terrorist, or a criminal. Apparently being a hero attracts the strange ones...

"Austin!" Someone shouted from nearby, though he continued forwards for a couple of more steps before sighing heavily and turning around, his cold eyes resting on the woman who approached him. "I brought you your ticket." The woman stated as she stopped in front of him, holding out her hand to reveal a single ticket to the orbital station

"Thanks, Carla." Austin replied, reaching out with his hand and snatching the ticket from her before shoving it back into his jacket pocket. Clearly showing he wasn't in the mood to deal with anything. Driving that point further by turning around and continuing his way towards the shuttle bay.

"Send me a message when she's out of surgery!" The woman shouted, though it had blended in with the rest of the commotion going on around the space port as he disappeared into a large crowd, and ultimately boarding a shuttle that would ferry him to the Cambridge Research Station.

As he entered the shuttle, he glanced around looking for an empty seat, his eyes resting on a seat next to a man that looked to be a few years younger than himself, and was rather rounded. In an orderly fashion he made his way through and took a seat next to the man, who looked up and smiled lightly at him.

Austin had returned the smile half-way before actually buckling himself in and ignoring the introduction given by the gentleman he was stuck with. Thankfully, it wasn't a long flight to the research station, as it was literally the first stop after leaving the planet.

((Author Notice: Best viewed in Block & Gray ))
Cambridge System - Kingdom of Bretonia
Three days after Hidamari was stabbed -- Police Authority Impound Lot
Planet Cambridge

"Sometimes... even I question my own loyalty."


Impound Lots.

Typically not the place you would find an officer of the crown wandering around in on his free time. Though today, he was there for a different reason completely. Just a day ago he and a wingman had managed to down a very famous terrorist by the name of Sangria Reaver, and her ship - An Odin - was heavily damaged but salvageable, and he was going to buy it off of the Police Authorities hands, having made a promise to someone.

Among the various vehicles and space vessels that were impounded here for a variety of reasons, the Odin stood out like a sore thumb, and was in worse condition than the rest on the lot. As he strolled past it, hands in his jacket pockets, he could see the various bruises that the ship had suffered during the engagement. The ship looked as if it was about to fall apart, and... most likely would. Progressing his way in a slow lap around the ship, he studied the Rheinland design, reaching out and running his hand along the hull. He wasn't an expert on ship repair, but he did keep his own ships in working condition - minus the ejection mechanisms.

Thoughts on how to fix the Odin and where to get the parts for it were broken as a beeping sound resonated from his pocket, a sudden noise that startled him. "Ow..." Austin muttered, retracting his hand quickly from the hull of the ship and taking a look at the new cut across his palm, which quickly started bleeping although it wasn't enough to sway him.

Staring at the wound on his right palm, he reached into his left pant pocket and pulled out the PDA that was beeping, pressing a button, he brought the PDA up to his ear.

"Second Lieutenant Goodman, your service within the Section D has been terminated."

The message was short and straight to the point, and with that came an odd ease that he had not felt in a while, as his eyes continued to study the pool of blood filling his palm.

He lowered the PDA from his ear, and slid it back into his pocket, taking in a deep breath and turning the blood filled hand over, letting the blood drip on the concrete group. His gaze looking up as someone approached.

"May I... uh... help you sir?" The man asked his face filled with concern, looking at Austin, the bloody concrete, then Austin again.

"Yeah. First and foremost, I'm looking to buy this Odin, secondly... I could use a wash cloth or something to stop the bleeding, it's not a deep cut." Austin replied, wearing a faint and distant smile as he looked down to watch the droplets hit the concrete. He only looked up to see the man briefly nod before quickly leaving the scene, in what Austin assumed was to get something to stop the bleeding.

While he waited for the man to return, his thoughts drifted away from fixing the Odin to what he was told about Hidamari, the fact that she was still in critical condition didn't help ease him, but at least she was in good hands, and he wondered how much longer it would be before he could see her. After all, the twelve year old was like a young sister to him, and no one else was worth enough to deserve his full respect. No one.

It wasn't long when the man returned with gaze, causing Austin to return to the world of the damned, and a few minutes after that, his palm was bandaged neatly. But after that it was down to business. A few words were exchanged between the two before Austin simply paid the man. It would be a day or two until the Odin was properly delivered to the Ranch, meaning he had enough time to go and do things he wanted to do.

His next stop - as he left the impound lot - was the nearest Armed Forces recruitment center. He was a soldier and had a fight to continue. The Intelligence Service hadn't been what he had expected it to be, and quite frankly didn't challenge him enough. So, he had intentions on rejoining the Armed Forces on the front line, wondering if he could be reinstated at his previous rank or if he could lead an elite strike wing into the Tau region. Finding both highly unlikely.
New London System - Kingdom of Bretonia
Commander's Quarters, Her Majesty's Ship, The Invictus
Planet New London Orbit, New London

"I've fallen from the tallest mountain, drowned in the deepest sea, and sacrificed those that had meant something to me. Now I fight the good fight, in hopes to see the end of another, long war."



He sighed heavily as he leaned back in the chair at his desk, looking at the Carina's Cross in front of him, having ran his thumb across the face of the medal countless of times before setting it down on top of a small pile of paper work. The medal meant many things to him; hope, despair, dedication, loyalty, honor, depression, lies... the list could go on. Though he never had the courage to toss it out, and surprisingly always had it on hand, everywhere he went.

Austin observed the medal for a few long minutes before gathering it up and placing in the desk drawer, afterwards he got to his feet, and proceeded out of his quarters, and into the hall-way. Clearing his face of any emotion, he began walking past fellow men and women of the Bretonian Armed Forces. Men and women who have seen him in action, and considered themselves loyal to him as much as he was loyal to the Queen.

After a few long minutes of wandering through the ship, and finally entering his intended destination, the Mess Hall. Taking his place among the crew members in line, he kept quiet most of the time, only nodding lightly or speaking his opinion when someone asked, seeming a ritual on board the vessel. Unlike most Commanding Officers, he ate with the crew sitting at different tables every day, even going as far as taking in opinions and suggestions on a variety of issues.

Infact, he had considered the Invictus a home away from home, although he preferred heading back to home after countless long hours of working.

Gathering the food, he smiled softly and nodded to the cook and proceeded away from the line towards one of the empty tables, a signal to anyone that they could join him, as it was Sunday, typically the day where he would sit by himself to allow other members wander over if he hadn't gotten to their respected tables. Of course, commotion caused him to look up from his food as people began shouting.

"The hell?" He said, leaning over to get a better view of what was going on, only to briefly catch a glimpse of what looked to be a brawl between a couple of crew men, placing his fork down on the tray, he got to his feet and made his way through the gathering crowd towards the arena that was created by the various bodies. When he was in view, and near the front of the crowd, he crossed his arms across his chest and waited to see if the situation would resolve itself between the two.

The scuffle continued for a few minutes longer. Shaking his head, and reaching for his side-arm. A couple of crewmen in the crowd saw this motion and started covering their ears, soon others took note and did the same, but the brawl continued on. Unclasping the holster strap, then pulling the pistol out he pointed it at the ceiling and fired a blank, the echo caused a few people to jump and literally drop what they were doing, while the two fighting looked over towards where the shot was fired.

Austin clenched his teeth and shook his head lightly, lowering the pistol as his eyes settled on the two former combatants. "Save your strength for the enemy, or for when you're off duty. Not here, and not now. We have a war to win and the last thing I want is members of this ship in the infirmary for something stupid. Now... get yourselves cleaned up."
Cambridge System - Kingdom of Bretonia
Commander's Quarters, Her Majesty's Ship, The Invictus
Planet Cambridge Orbit, Cambridge System

"..."


Fatigued, hungry, and partially annoyed with the recent events that had led him to sitting in the cramped quarters on board the Invictus nearly every day since he first met her.

Austin leaned back in his chair, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing his eyes before a yawn followed immediately afterwards. Who was she? Why was she interested in him? Was... is... this all an elaborate trick being placed? If so, by who? These questions tore at him mentally as his pen scratched the paper he had been writing on for the past hour. Questions that tore at him since the fight in New London... when they first met.

What did he know about her? She was a rather skilled pilot, she grew up on Cambridge, in her early twenties, and had lost her parents to a Corsair raid that took place in the Dublin system. She even joined the Molly rebellion seeking to avenge her parents death by ensuring that every single Corsair was driven out from Bretonia. 'A noble cause,' he thought, as another yawn forced it's way. He also knew that she had taken a particular fondness towards a particular Armed Forces officer, stating he was different from the others.

Different...

He dropped the pen down on his desk before him and leaned back in the chair, sighing heavily as he pressed his hands against his eyes once more. The information he had on her was freely given to him when he invited her for a drink on the Hood.

Though, it would seem that fate would rear it's ugly head once more in his life, as if his past relationship with other terrorists wasn't bad enough, this was practically pushing it. Especially now that she was asking for him to be transferred to a different part of Bretonia, away from the Gallic front, and away from his eventual death...

Moving his hands, he looked down at the paper that was laying on the desk before him. It was a transfer document, partially filled out but also lacking key information. If this transfer was under any other circumstance, it would have been submitted and he wouldn't have hesitated for a week straight nor be telling white lies to the innocent woman that he had started falling in love with.

He released another sigh, as the recently discussed plans came into his mind, plans that had spawned off an idea of a Trojan horse. He just needed to make sure everything would come together smoothly, and with that... he needed to get away from the front.
Cambridge System - Kingdom of Bretonia
Goodman Family Ranch
Planet Cambridge, Cambridge System

"Tomorrow's mission is a huge one. I've placed full trust in an enemy that had came to me seeking help. Whether my trust was well placed has yet to be seen. But I must prepare for the worst, as I will ensure that my men make it out before me. I'll sacrifice myself for them, and it will be the end.

I'm done with coming back and fighting another day. Tomorrow... everything is at stake, and nothing... nothing can go wrong. But everything will."


He carried the last box of assorted items into the garage and sat it down on the floor, sighing heavily as he stretched his arms. A light smile was strewn across his face as he looked over the corner of the garage that had various sizes of boxes that had came from his house, after he was content that nothing would fall and break, he brushed his hands together and left the garage, heading back to the ranch house.

Aside from his recent demotion for the lack of communication between the Armed Forces and Liberty Navy about a certain... vessel, he felt everything was slowly coming together, which for the most part made him content.

Although, he still had a few things to take care of before the events of the next day decided to transpire.

Austin opened the front door to the ranch house and then shut the door after he stepped inside, then he made his way down the hall towards the second bedroom that he recently took time out of his day to clean and organize as he had a guest on the way. Whether the events tomorrow would transpire in his favor or not, would yet to be decided.

He stepped inside the room and took a look around making sure the room was indeed clean, organized, and the bed was made. Once he was satisfied, he closed the door behind him and made his way back to the living room where his uniform had been laid out on the coffee table.

The rendezvous spot was Southampton for his squadron, only one person in that squadron - aside from himself - knew the details, and importance of the mission that was taking place. Once the rest of the squadron of volunteers had gathered, he would inform them of the task that was at hand. He might have been demoted, but there was of course one thing he was counting on, and that was his status... no matter where it got him after this.

He collapsed to a laying position on the couch, propping his legs up against the arm on the opposite side and staring up at the ceiling, while tucking his arms underneath his head.

"Record the following, October Sixteenth, Eight-Nineteen."

He drew in a deep breath as he closed his eyes, before speaking once more.


"I'm Lieutenant Commander Austin Rodney Goodman, the last Goodman of my families line, the hero of Prime Minister Mountbatten, and a soldier of Her Majesty's Armed Forces.

If you're listening to this message, I'm probably either captured, or dead. If I'm captured, don't go after me as it wouldn't matter anyways, by the time you got forces together... Bretonia would have fallen, or I would have been tortured to death. If I had died... well, keep listening.

There are things in my life that I have done, that I'm not proud of... so whatever happened to me I deserved, because frankly... the things I've done are borderline treason, and I've gotten away with it for one... one reason.

Whether now, or in the future, they want to admit it or not. Bretonia needed me. During the Kusari war, they needed someone to give them hope, I saved the Prime Minister, and gave that hope to them. They needed someone others aspired to be, to make a hero... then when things turned to the worse, someone to take the fall... to blame, because no one else would.

Whether the person whose listening to this believes me or not, this is how I feel. All of my actions have been justified, all of my actions can be seen as good for Bretonia and her people. I'll admit I've made mistakes in the past, but should one really... be treated so poorly for doing what he thought was right?

No. Politicians, nobles, and those of royal blood don't care if you're trying to do what you feel is right, what others see is right. They only care for how long you can be paraded around, only care to promote you, give you a medal and then... when your time is up or when you're useless, throw you away and hope you rot. If you do one small - tiny - mistake, they make it a huge deal out of it, stepping out of their boundaries to ruin you even more.

I'm not going to lie when I say this... but the one thing I regret, is saving the Prime Minister. Had I followed orders and didn't stay in Liberty, had I not given the time the Prime Minister's ship needed to get away... things would have been much easier for me. I would have been the nameless Ensign who... had the Prime Minister's blood on his hands. I would have been looked down upon, infamous. But no, I had to save the Prime Minister because it was my job... and now? I'm living a miserable life, fighting through one war, then getting dragged into another. Carrying the reputation of a hero for a politician who would later use you as a scapegoat.

There were many in the Armed Forces, or other military organizations that felt I didn't deserve the Carina's Cross, who knew I disobeyed direct orders to return home, orders given by an Admiral. Those people are now dead, or have retired, and I feel no shame because I should have joined them a long time ago, but I still continue living and I still continue fighting.

As the saying goes, I won't rest until I'm dead.

Each time a Templar doesn't come home. Each day that a squadron disappears and fails to report in is a damage to morale. Morale that had been suffering since the Kusari invasion. Morale that regrettably enough was held together by the few small victories that we managed to pull off in the face of an enemy that had been prepared for war - for centuries.

If it hasn't already, Bretonia is going to fall. It's not going to break apart from the inside like Gallia, or Rheinland, it's going to crumble from it's stone walls on the outside. We're a strong people, we always have been, and we always will be. But what we really need now is a change.

Our Admirals stick to text book strategies that have been around for centuries, strategies that clearly have not worked. Our politicians stick to broken democracy. Our merchants... care only for the credits in their pockets rather than what's going on. Our allies? Only care about themselves, and when they feel that they're threatened only then decide to show themselves.

Anyone who goes against these text books, or this way of thinking are considered traitors, or considered an enemy. Their actions that are seen as right by themselves and the few friends or on-lookers they have, are seen as nothing more than an attempt at bringing down the house.

It's clear that out of the box thinking, and unorthodox'd tactics are frowned upon, and sometimes even considered treasonous. Do something that will kill one hundred civilians, to gain the outcome of the survival of one million civilians? It's disgraceful, disgusting, and horrific.

But do something to save one mans life, who you don't even know or will never meet again? It's seen as a heroic.

Clearly... our thoughts of heroes are disgustingly backwards and twisted, and by all means... I was never a hero, and I will never be considered one. At least not in my own eyes."


He paused, letting whatever it was he was trying to get at sink in before speaking up again.


"If Bretonia is still fighting, I wish her well... and I know what she needs. She needs a united fleet of Rheinland, Kusari, Liberty, Council, Hispania, Coalition, Colonial ships. She needs to have one... united military force, not separate ones fighting across multiple fronts. But one force, one front. Together... we can defeat this enemy and push them back.

Together... can we ensure that this is the war that ends all wars. Sirius has seen enough bloodshed to last an eon. Sirius has lost enough sons and daughters to these wars over resources, territory, or petty disagreements.

But alas... the only way for this to even be accomplished... we must put aside our differences, and work together for the same goal. That goal should be pretty simple by this point... the complete and total surrender or annihilation of the corrupt and infested Gallic Regime."


He paused, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling once more, letting the silence sink in.

"End recording."

There was a familiar beep that had followed shortly afterwards. With that, he stood up and walked over to the recorder, pressing a button and pulling the disc out of the machine.

He placed it in a nearby CD case, which he then took over to the bookshelf and pulled on a blue and white book, causing the shelf to automatically slide over to the left, revealing a dark stair well. He followed the stairs down to an oak door that had the words "Wine Cellar" across the frame.

He opened the door and stepped into the cold room. Various bottles that had been collected over time have been carefully arranged around the room, the smell of grape hung heavy in the air. He took in a deep breath, smiling softly as he approached a safe, turning the dial a couple of times the safe clicked and opened.

After a moment of silence and staring inside of at the picture of him and his family, he placed the CD case inside and then promptly shut the case and spun the dial - resetting it.

"I'll be back... I always will." He muttered softly, shaking his head lightly and looking over at the bottle of sake he had received as a gift mere days ago.

"If I'm going to die. You... and me, tonight, sounds wonderful." He said, grabbing the bottle, and a bottle of wine on his way out.
Cambridge System - Kingdom of Bretonia
Goodman Family Ranch
Planet Cambridge, Cambridge System

"Of course... I'd come back alive without much of a hassle."


With the day and events finally over with, Austin breathed in a heavy sigh as he walked into his house, accidentally slamming the door behind him. The first place he wandered to was the living room, where he tossed his uniform jacket on the couch - missing it completely as the jacket landed on the coffee table, then promptly settled on the floor. Sighing again, he waved his hand towards the jacket and knelt down, starting to unlace his boots before taking them off.

He started retracing the days events in his head, seeing what he could have done to change anything, only coming up with that he wish he had been on the field the two times his patrol was engaged, rather than off doing something else, though... the things he did were just as important as far as he was concerned.

Rescuing the Gallic defector was embarrassingly easy, and he could rest knowing that the woman, Sophie Savoie, was sleeping safely in a hotel room on Planet New London. He felt partially bad that he had to ditch her in orbit of New London before taking her to his ranch. Though, she knew he had other important things going on later in the day and seemed to understand why he had hurried away.

The second important thing to happen was the meeting with the brother of the late Emperor Jien Kogen, a man by the name of Daichi Kogen. The Heir-apparent of the Kusari State Empire, and... just like Austin, the last of his respected blood-line.

"Lack of military discipline my ass." He muttered aloud, recalling the events of the meeting.

The shaking of hands as Austin arrived. The Emperor-Apparent offering Austin to sit, in which he respectfully declined. The quick, easy discussion in which he answered the questions that were asked, and even the offering of a bottle of 326 A.S. Burgundy Wine, a gift that Austin had originally attended to give at the beginning as an offering from the guest of honor (in this case, Austin) to the host. However, he had forgot to grab it before leaving his ship, and gave it to the Emperor-Apparent as a gift for helping Bretonia in these dark times, out of mutual respect.

Mutual respect... he was told to call the Emperor-Apparent by his first name, Daichi, and was even made the personal unofficial liaison to the Emperor-Apparent of Kusari's Fleet-in-Exile and Director Kaido Marahue of Samura. A rather interested development that Austin hadn't actually expected to happen.

Austin sighed lightly, getting back to his feet and stretching his arms before turning around and slowly walking into the kitchen. He turned the light on and eye'd the bottle of still-full-sake along with the empty glass that sat next to it and shook his head, reaching the refrigerator and peering inside.

"Uh... I need to stock up on food."

He sighed, yes... again, and shut the door to the fridge, turning around to the island and opening the bottle of sake then filling the nearby glass half-way up. After filling the glass, he sat the bottle down then picked up the glass and brought it to his lips...

He paused, setting the glass down shortly after - having not taken a sip. Instead, he turned around and opened a nearby drawer grabbing the funnel and moving back towards the bottle of sake and the glass. Reopening the bottle he placed the funnel at the top and then carefully poured the content of the glass back into the bottle.

"Tomorrow is going to be another long day."
New London System - Kingdom of Bretonia
Battleship Suffolk
Planet New London Orbit, New London

"I won't lie, there are points in times where even I make mistakes, and it's those mistakes that I have to deal with."


"Lieutenant Commander Austin Goodman?"
"Aye?"
"Sir, I have good news... your Templar, she's been fully repaired, and operational. You'll be able to pick her up on the Harrow, in the Sali-"
"I know where the Harrow is. You don't have to remind me, thank you."
"She's missing a few components, like weaponry, but we can have the teams strip your Paladin down and place those weapon systems on her... you'll... probably have to speak to the quarter master for a new missile system though."
"Once more, thank you Lieutenant. Have the crew prep my Paladin, I'll be heading out then."
"Yessir, right away."
"One more thing."
"Yes sir?"
"Don't call me sir."

Austin closed the book he was reading and looked up towards the Lieutenant who gave a hasty salute before leaving the room. Shaking his head slowly, he sat the book down and got to his feet.

When he last saw his Templar, the ship was so heavily damaged that almost everything in it was barely functioning, and had he been shot down... well, that would've been the end of it. Thankfully, he managed to keep himself alive through the few years that the ship lacked the proper and necessary facilities to get a proper maintenance. The ship he had since he was an Ensign, the ship stole and abandoned his post with, was finally back in service after months of heavy repair and over-hall.

A content thought crossed his mind. Finally, he could be back in the ship that he was truly deadly in. Though, he didn't want to jump to conclusions as it was a while since he was actually use to the controls, and while the Paladin had excellent handling, it just wasn't the same.

After a moment, he grabbed his book and proceeded out of the observation deck on the Suffolk, heading towards the pilot ready room to actually get in uniform before heading over to the Harrow - the Battleship that housed the Admiralty.
New London System - Kingdom of Bretonia
Personal Eagle Fighter, Somewhere in Space
New London

"I typically don't tell anyone this, but... when I get into the cockpit, I expect it to be the last day of my life - I hope it's the last day of my life. Though, at the end of the day, I still come home, only to look forward to the next day being the end, and so forth."


Austin leaned back in the seat, it was these certain moments that he actually enjoyed, relaxing while doing absolutely nothing but staring into the vastness of space. In the distance he could see both the New London star, and Planet New London itself.

These particular moments were starting to become rare with each passing day. It was late during the Kusari war that Austin had actually began treasuring these quiet and peaceful moments - away from the hustle of the war and day-to-day life as a combat pilot. Though, back then it was a different war and Bretonia had retained most of it's fleet.

Nowadays, he was lucky to get a decent nights sleep before being thrown back into the fray against impossible odds. Even with the support of Liberty, alongside the Council, he doubted Bretonia would be victorious. Each tactical decision made by the Armed Forces Admiralty in the past few months had made Austin cringe, or worst - lowered his hopes that Bretonia would indeed prevail.

The current war was nothing more than a war of attrition, a war of attrition that Bretonia was going to lose. Gallia had advance ships, fresh troops, pilots, and now a boosted economy and more resources with their recent militaristic gain within the Tau region.

He sighed heavily, shaking his head to disperse the thoughts that began clouding his mind. Nowadays... elements of this war were everywhere, and no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't get away from the war. A leech that was going to stick with him until the day he died.

"I wish that day was soon." He muttered, leaning back further in the pilots seat and closing his eyes. He let out a slow but long breath, and then equally drew one back in. Opening his eyes a moment later, and looking back out towards the scenery.

"No invading force has ever defeated an enemy that used guerrilla warfare, at least... not without taking a large amount of casualties. If we continue fighting our enemy like we are now, we'll lose this war by years end, even with this Liberty defense force being dispatched to us. We're just carelessly throwing our ships and pilots away, and the Gallics will continue to grind our forces away little-by-little."

He paused his train of thought, squinting his eyes at the conclusion he's drawn within the few seconds of actually speaking to himself.

"I think it's about time we held a proper Defense Intelligence Staff emergency meeting, because this war isn't getting the results we want, and... frankly, our lay down and die policy needs to change." He sighed, shaking his head slowly as he leaned forwards, reaching for the controls of his ship. "They're not going to listen to me though, so... I'll either need someone who they'll listen to... or do something to get them to listen to me."