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It was a convenient fate, the red-haired woman supposed.

She didn’t comment as Isaacs shuffled out of the room that had been designated as Cathartes’ mess hall of choice, though Gaida had always considered it more of a lounge. It was too small to be a proper mess hall and too ineffective to be a dining room. That about summed up the Cathartes and its unseemly captain. But she didn’t forget when she had her own scuffle with federation hunters that it had been that very same unseemly captain that had taken her in and helped her with the repairs to her suit despite the Zeon engravings it had littered across its torso at the time. He had been charitable, but not generous. A former ace from the Principality of Zeon was something he couldn’t look away from and all these months later she reflected on it often.

“Could use some more muscle.” He had commented casually at the time and here he was basically doing the same to a new motley group of individuals.

As long as they didn’t cause trouble she supposed it was wise enough of a decision.

She very nearly corrected the old goat about calling Zeon a republic, not that it had never been one, she just didn’t recognize the bones of the Principality being used for means that were not in line with a true successor. A neo-republic. Pretenders. She pondered the thought as the chattering continued until the old man gave them his ultimatum. Though it was less a ultimatum and more of a certainty unless they wanted to be spaced in the middle of the sector. She kept her arms crossed as she nodded, maintaining eye contact with the captain.

[color=D42E2E]“If that is all, I have a post to attend to.”[/color] She commented, taking her leave as well.








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