"Ah, a reaction...friendlies?" She muttered to herself as she peeled across the debris, the heavily modified Thunderbolt Sector RGM-79 skirting disaster as she wove between the thick spires of material jutting out from the debris she was flying through. The verniers jetted every now and then as Roan readjusted her course, her impeccable spatial awareness helping her avoid the sometimes hidden obstacles that would appear from the void as shadows revealed by the sharp contrast of light. Looking down momentarily and back at the Gouf, she heard the Zudah's pilot screaming over the comm before the two Zeon mobile suits moved in for a collision course, giving her enough time to escape. "I don't want any part of that issue, you two go work it out while I vacate the office."

All the talk about voices made her skin crawl. Roan had heard mutterings of her being a 'Newtype,' but the most that she had ever exhibited was an extremely high level of spatial perception and awareness. Listening to the calls of thousands, or even the voices of the dead being projected into her head? Never. 

There was that annoying buzzing that she got, but the pilot usually attributed that to the same sort of tiredness she experienced when listening to her commanding officer trying to give pep talks. He never went out on sortie, so she never paid him much mind.

Roan emerged from the section of shattered colony, moving a decent length away from her quarreling adversaries before she caught sight of another GM from her section being obliterated by a dark blue Zaku I, a type she had never encountered before. Fumbling a little before muttering under her breath about wasted opportunities and horrible timing, she brought up her remaining shields, using the sub-arms to cover her flank. Her sensors picked up a fourth GM, this one eager to grapple with the navy-colored mobile suit. It was a highly experimental type she had only seen once, but found utterly ridiculous: The Juggler, a GM equipped with two Ball units that had beam rifles bolted to them in an attempt to mimic Zeon's Newtype machines. 

The third GM she had picked up was another type entirely, a far-advanced variant which put her unit to shame. Dark in color, with a four-eyed visor glowing eerily in the void, she had heard of its existence but knew very few that actually roamed the battlefields. In comparison, despite her skills, she was a rank novice compared to whoever piloted them. An asteroid erupted with violent explosions and uplifting debris as she assumed the GM decided to take refuge among the field of space rock formed by its demise. Still, she kept her shields up to protect her unit, gunning towards the asteroid's remnants in an attempt to make contact. 

Now if only the singer would shut up.