Chapter 56: Aftermath and Settlement

"How is it, Dr. Timrey? Have the fruits of this mission been helpful to you?"

"Invaluable, General Gop!"

Although Timrey could be blunt and uncompromising before the Zaku advisors, he was, after all, a high-diploma intellectual with a fundamental grasp of emotional intelligence. Standing before Gop, he appeared remarkably respectful. After all, this man was a scientist's absolute favorite type of sugar daddy!

He respected scientists, granted them sufficient autonomy, and was remarkably swift in approving budgets. Apart from having rather small eyes, he was entirely flawless!

No, small eyes weren't even a flaw; they were a sign of sharp and penetrating vision!

"Then, when will the new mobile suit be ready for production?"

The smiling Gop asked in a soft, gentle tone.

"Well, three months? Ah, no, two months!"

Major Timrey had just intended to ask for a few extra days, but seeing Gop's small eyes narrow slightly, he thought better of it. Although he wasn't intimately familiar with this Federation general, the major knew well enough that this expression indicated dissatisfaction.

"We need to replace the new armor material, redesign the servo motors, and engineer a brand-new power reactor. That naturally requires time!"

"Understood. In that case, I will dispatch the new test pilot concurrently."

Watching the screen fade to black, Timrey let out a long breath. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, involuntarily thinking of his mentor. In the past, he had always lived under that man's shadow, but once the Mobile Suit Project reached completion, he would finally become a renowned scientist surpassing his mentor!

At this thought, Timrey was instantly filled with boundless drive. Refusing to wait until their spacecraft returned to Side 7, he eagerly immersed himself in his research right there in his quarters.

However, compared to the intensely motivated Timrey, Char Aznable, stationed somewhere tens of thousands of kilometers away in the Guardian sector, felt thoroughly devoid of drive.

Because the matter concerned Garma Zabi, the Principality of Zeon had immediately initiated negotiations with the Earth Federation, demanding the repatriation of their prisoners.

After all, Degwin was terrified that the Federation might drag their feet and eventually send his delicate, pampered youngest son—whom he had raised with the utmost meticulousness—off to some barren rock to mine minerals. If they sent him to Jupiter to harvest heavy hydrogen, it would be even worse!

In truth, the Federation military had actually contemplated precisely that: making Garma Zabi serve a life sentence. After all, he had already confessed to being the mastermind behind the uprising. If someone like that were simply allowed to return, where would the Federation military's dignity go?

Yet his identity was far too exceptional. Much like Helen of Troy, whose abduction sparked the Trojan War, Garma held a weight of his own. For this child, Degwin would wage war without a second thought!

Thus, they had no choice but to release him. Even so, the Zeon side had paid an exorbitant price.

The Federation government directly demanded that Zeon release over a dozen Federation spies who had been captured by Zeon's counterintelligence agency while gathering intelligence in the past. Originally destined to spend the rest of their lives mining asteroids, these spies suddenly found their lucky day had arrived!

"Well then, little master of the Zabi family, wipe that gloomy expression off your face and come have a drink!"

To be fair, the Federation military treated these fewer than thirty prisoners remarkably well. They had specifically cleared out a barracks to serve as their living quarters, subjected them to zero abuse, and ensured they ate the exact same rations as the Federation soldiers.

Yet now, upon learning that they were all about to be released and sent home, the garrison mess hall had even prepared a lavish feast for them.

For reasons unknown to anyone on the Zeon side, the moment they entered the cafeteria and laid eyes on the sumptuous spread, several of the surviving female prisoners' legs went weak, and they burst into loud, wailing tears, while the male prisoners' complexions drained of color.

Even Garma and Char wore deep frowns—the kind capable of crushing a passing fly between their brows.

"To think this day would actually arrive!"

"Char, to be honest... I'm a little scared."

The mere thought that once they finished this meal they would be dragged to some anonymous corner of the space colony and riddled with bullets made Garma shiver involuntarily.

Char could only silently pat Garma on the shoulder and say softly, "Perhaps this is simply the caprice of fate. But it's all right, Garma. At least when we leave, we go together!"

"Char!"

"Having a friend like you makes me truly happy."

Garma Zabi finally shed a few tears, then began frantically grabbing the food from the table and stuffing it into his mouth.

He had often heard his father say in his childhood that even if one must die, one should do so with a full stomach!

Garma's frantic manner of eating caused the special envoy sent by the Federation government to recoil in shock. Turning to Commander Eugen, the envoy demanded, "Why on earth are you torturing Garma?"

"Torturing?"

Eugen wore a blank expression. Over the past few days, he had personally watched the prisoners eat every meal. Everyone ate the exact same food; how could this possibly be considered torture?

"This cannot be called anything other than torture! Just look at how he's eating—how long has it been since he had a proper meal?"

The special envoy pointed at Garma, who was now using both hands simultaneously—one clutching rice, the other a strawberry pie, half of which he spat back out as he crammed it down his throat.

"If you people treat them like this, there's going to be a diplomatic incident during the prisoner exchange!"

With that, the special envoy hurried over to Garma, poured him a glass of water, and uttered the very words mentioned earlier.

***

Yet the special envoy had not anticipated that his words would only make Garma eat even faster.

"It seems the problem isn't on our end."

Eugen nodded and let out a sigh of relief. While the two sides had been negotiating, commendations within the Federation military had finally been issued. Unlike the bureaucratic parasites in the Federation Parliament, the military did not shortchange the soldiers who had fought through blood and fire. Everyone received medals; decorated veterans like Macarius received as many as three, while the wounded received at least two.

Furthermore, officers and non-commissioned officers who had demonstrated exceptional performance were all promoted by one rank. Although their duty stations remained largely unchanged, their pay had at the very least increased!

As for Eugen, because his deployment had thwarted Zeon's conspiracy, General Revil had even written him a letter of recommendation to the Advanced Military Academy. As long as Eugen passed the academy's examinations, he would be able to trade the field-grade insignia on his shoulders for flag rank!

As for the Federation Parliament, they had merely issued a communication filled with empty rhetoric, rambling on endlessly before tacking on a closing sentence expressing gratitude for contributions made to the Earth Federation.

This was entirely expected, of course. The bureaucrats had always been wary of the military growing too powerful—which explained why the Parliament's reaction to the military's victory had been so lukewarm. Should a real war break out, the military would inevitably demand a greater voice in governance. While everyone could pull together during wartime, once peace arrived, would a military that had tasted power willingly remain suppressed by civilian bureaucrats?

Thus, Eugen treated the parliamentary envoy with polite indifference, refusing to take the man seriously.

Meanwhile, back in the cafeteria, having devoured a table of wreckage, Garma finally paused and gazed expressionlessly at the military police standing nearby.

"I've finished eating. We can be on our way now."

"No rush, no rush. Before you hit the road, there's still something we need you to do!"

The military police politely hoisted up the Zeon prisoners—who had eaten to the point of being unable to stand—and escorted them toward a basement.

"?"

"Didn't you say there was something to do? Why are we being brought down here?"

Seeing the wide-open basement door, Garma's legs turned to jelly once more. Fortunately, Char, walking directly behind him, caught him just in time to prevent him from making a fool of himself.

"That's right, we brought you here to do something, and then we'll send you back to Zeon!"

At this, the group of prisoners—who had just stabilized after their meal—erupted into fresh wails. Garma swayed unsteadily, prompting Char to extend a steadying hand once again.

"If that's the case, I have one final request. Can you allow me to face the direction of Zum City?"

Garma declared with resolute determination.

"Face Zum City? Which direction is Zum City?"

Since the colony was sealed and the exterior invisible, the military policeman looked somewhat bewildered. Nevertheless, he obediently went to check, returning shortly with a reply.

"Negative. When you go inside, you must face forward!"

"I see."

Garma nodded solemnly.

Perhaps this was his punishment for acting alone—not even being able to gaze toward his hometown before his death!

Even so, he ultimately resigned himself to fate and, guided by the military police, stepped into the basement.

"Who is first?"

"Garma Zabi!"

"Very well, please stand in the center!"

Faced with the bustling Federation soldiers and the heavy artillery-like equipment arrayed before them, Garma's brain short-circuited once more.

"What are you planning to do?"

"Take identification photos, of course. You are prisoners of war, after all; we have to keep records before the exchange, don't we?"

Second Lieutenant Recky fiddled with his camera without even lifting his head.

"Then why are you taking photos in a basement?"

"You have yourselves to blame for that. You shelled the place with mortars and destroyed the original photography studio!"

Shortly after, Char, waiting as the second in line, watched as Garma emerged from the basement with a thoroughly eccentric expression.

"Weren't they supposed to take us down here to execute us?"

"No, they brought us down here to take pictures."

"Since when does anyone drag people to a basement just to take a photograph?!"

Char wore an equally bizarre expression. Yet when he entered the basement himself and spotted Macarius standing in the corner, his facial expression twisted into an even more grotesque contortion!

Right now, he had zero desire to lay eyes on this man!

"Don't look at me with that expression. Aren't you even curious about how your sister is doing?"

At that, the twisted expression on Char's face became even more chaotic.

"You really do know my identity!"

"Indeed. So, what do you intend to do about it now?"

"What else can I do? Furthermore, Lino being taken away must also be your handiwork, I presume?"

Lino was the Zeon military academy student who had similarly discovered Char's identity. Because he had stuck close to Char, he had managed to survive the firefight and was captured alongside him. However, Macarius had subsequently used Lieutenant General Jin's influence to ship the fellow off on a Federation warship bound for Earth. By now, the man was probably happily enjoying Earth's scenery in a maximum-security military prison in Australia.

"Precisely. Therefore, you won't have to worry about him anymore. Of course, there is still someone you *should* worry about—for instance, that wicked older woman who tried to play with the 'riding a big horse with small feet' game with you during your childhood!"

"She and I didn't..."

Recognizing instantly who Macarius was referring to, Char attempted to refute the claim. Yet, recalling the events that had transpired during his recent attempt to negotiate a surrender, he wisely shut his mouth.

"So, why help me?"

"Well, there are numerous reasons. First, in the future I envision for us, you have a lot of work to do. Second, your sister is quite attractive—don't misunderstand, I don't care for riding big horses either!"

Char couldn't help but clench his fists. What was that supposed to mean? Was he implying his sister was older than him?!

"Naturally, there is one more crucial point: I've always been rather fond of *The Count of Monte Cristo*."

"I see. You have such profound confidence that everything will unfold precisely as you've planned?"

Char's expression returned to its customary, icy calm.

"Of course not. However, since this is my story, the ending must be decided by me!"

"What an arrogant fellow."

"Indeed. Without a bit of arrogance, one cannot survive in this universe!"

"In that case, I shall wait to see how the story ends."

"My thanks in advance. Oh, and one last favor to ask of you!"

"What is it?"

"We've consumed a considerable amount of extra time down here, so we need a plausible pretext to account for it."

With that, Macarius delivered a sharp punch to Char's stomach, followed swiftly by a blow to his cheek.

"Is this your idea of an arrangement?"

Char rubbed the bleeding corner of his mouth with a wry smile.

"Indeed. The official reason shall be that you refused to remove your goggles and consequently received a disciplinary lesson from the Federation military. Does that sound satisfactory? Lieutenant, you and your men may come in and take the photos now!"

Shortly after, Recky and his subordinates entered the room, snapping Char's first photograph as a prisoner of war and recording a confession video in the process.

In the recording, Char stated his identity, his place of origin, and the circumstances of his capture under the lens.

"There. If you ever happen to be captured again, you won't receive treatment quite this hospitable. Boy, you'd better watch your step!"

Having wrapped up these trivial matters, Char was escorted out of the room by the military police.

"Weren't you curious why I wanted to spend time alone with that fellow?"

"I was curious, but I figured if I knew, I'd probably end up dying a horrible death. So I decided against it. I assume that fellow's identity is rather extraordinary, am I right?"

Macarius was left utterly astounded. True to his intelligence background, the man was remarkably perceptive!

"Perceptive my foot! The guy refused to take off his goggles the entire time, claiming his eyes were injured. He didn't look injured in the least! If he wasn't injured, why wear a broken pair of goggles? Obviously, to conceal his identity!"

Having listened to Second Lieutenant Recky's astute deduction, Macarius suddenly felt that if push came to shove, he might as well just make Char wear colored contact lenses!

Meanwhile, as Char stepped out of the basement with bruised and swollen features, he caught sight of Garma's anxious, worried gaze. At that moment, his desire for vengeance experienced a very minor tremor of hesitation.

"I'm fine. But you lot—why do you look so cheerful?"

"We're going to be returning to Zum City today, Char!"

"Is that so? That is wonderful news indeed."

Char looked at Garma, a bloody yet genuine smile finally gracing his lips. It seemed heaven was still rather partial to him after all!