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((The MS-06F should be fine.... What about armaments.))

Kazrai saw the Captain's jeep not too far off, so he quickly pulled up a few meters away, and and jumped out in a hurry, leaving the vehicle running. As soon as he put his hand on the knob of the door, he heard the Rear Admiral's voice from up above. Kazrai stood there about a half a minute, listening to the Rear Admiral make comments on how long the preperations were taking, and cursing the Federation for multiple things. When she finally stoped for a moment, Kazrai opened the door to the building and made his way down the hall and to the Captain.

As he arrived, Kazrai stood up at and saluted the Captain. "Sorry I am late sir! Did I miss anything, sir? And why is the Rear Admiral on the roof?"

"Sunbathing. She always wanted to do it on the beach but we have no time for that." the captain said as he looked around and took out a cigar. "Finest cigar made on Earth. Will fetch for a hell of a lot in the colonies. Luckly I got a box full of them in the Gaw that is to leave with the Rear Admiral... want one?" he asked as he motioned for Karzai to get the cigar from his hands.

*I leave the officer I was just at after getting my papers in order and make my way to the Zaku. I look at it as it stands at its hanger and I walk to the steel cable lowered to get into the cockpit. I place my foot within the loop in the cable and it lifts me to the cockpit. I climb in and look at the controls flipping switches left and right as one screen after another came on with static. After a few switches flipped all of them came in to the iamge of the hanger.
"Good this thing works..... Now lets make sure everything is aligned and working to a good capacity."

"Enter." the captain said.


"With one last glup Jose finished his second beer. The effects were kicking so he stoped himself from grabbing one more can. Slowly he walked out of the barracks and into the main base.

"No thtank you, sir" I reply to the Captain. I salute him again, and walk over to a seat on the opposite side of the room. I close my eyes once again, listening to the conversation going on in the room after Daret had left the room. Slowly my mind drifts off into another tactical plan that might help us win this battle.

I wake up as I hear a knock on the door. I must of fell asleep during my planing. I had not slept very well for the past few nights. Nightmares of the past battles kept me awake. As Deret enters the room I straighten, trying not to let him see that I was tired.

(I will sometimes transfer from the 1st person to the 3rd at times. I know it's a bad habit, but I just do it. Sorry if it bothers you)

As I listen to their conversation, and glance at the clock. 12:48pm. I get up and look at the Captain. "I am going to prepare my Zaku, sir." I say as I salute him once again, and head for the door.

Ensign Marcus Lowe was, by anyone's standards, a veteran. He'd first seen the elephant in space from the cockpit of MS-06F Zaku II, in the last stages of Operation British. Upon surviving, he had a brief reprieve until launching in the Battle of Loum, where he claimed his first three victories. After that, he saw combat only once or twice until late February, when he was absorbed by the Earth Attack Force and participated in the first drop operation on March 1, with the 1st Terrestrial Mobile Division. From there, he had stayed with the Division as it worked its way into Afghanistan, where he was posted until July. July saw his transfer to the newly-captured Mogadishu base, as well as a new MS-06D Zaku Desert Type to use in the harsh desert.

By now, he reflected, the arid climate fit him like a second skin. The colonies had much milder climates than that of Northern Africa, and he found the weather to liking. True, it was hotter than sin and you sweated almost continuously, but he found that he was comfortable enough in a sweat-stained tank top and the baggy desert fatigues. He'd never taken to wearing a turban, though, as some of the other men had. Instead, he preferred the standard-issue "duck-billed" hat: he found that it kept the sun out of his eyes better than a turban did.

Lounging around one of the Mobile Suit hangars in a folding chair, Marcus picked up his feet on a small ammunition crate and studied himself. He smelled like ten men, he figured, but that was to be expected. After the fall of Odessa earlier that month, "cosmetic" supplies such as deodorant had stopped coming. Who really cared about smelling good in a time and place like this, he thought. There were more important problems to consider, like the new Earth Federation offensive.

Alert status was now consistantly higher than usual, and no personnel were allowed to leave the base unless it was ordered that they do so. Maintaining his Zaku Desert Typr had fallen squarely on his shoulders, as the base wasn't just in short supply of perfume. Now that he'd finished his twice-a-day checkup, he figured that he'd might as well wait around for something interesting to happen. It was too damn hot to doze off.