The major had excused himself from the bridge, and instead found himself gearing up to sortie alongside two other pilots, Abdul and Meyer. A veteran mobile suit pilot and a rookie. There were usually pairs like these found on the battlefield, having an older pilot along was reassuring for the young, while the old felt good in having some eager fresh fighters to brag or teach to.

Charles was in the locker room, alongside the two other pilots. He pressed the command panel over by the door, which connected him directly to the bridge.

[color=fff79a][b]"Anything? Captain?"[/b][/color] The major asked.

[b]"Nothing yet sir. I'll have Abdul and Meyer sortie and look over the ship in case you find some trouble major."[/b] The captain said, his voice over the comms were gruff and... odd... almost as if he was crunching on something.

[color=fff79a][b]"Finding trouble is what we are here for, captain. I'll head into the zone to find your missing pilot..."[/b][/color] Charles slid his hand over the panel and shut off the connection, before nodding towards the two other pilots then the doorway.

[color=fff79a][b]"Remember your captain's orders, stay with the ship. If the enemy engage you, pull away from the debris. Do not engage them. They'll shoot you down. Stay within range to your ship and captain."[/b][/color] Charles said aloud as he moved down the corridors with the other two pilots in tow.

It didn't take him or the other two long to enter their respective machines, and as soon as the ready came for them to launch they did. One after the other. The two darkblue grazes were first to launch, and they indvidually landed on each side of the ship, landing in places which were meant to be platforms for cargo and less mobile mobile suits or mobile workers.

Soon after their launch it was Charles turn, his custom Geirail taking off with a not too extraordinary speed. But that might be as he was only using the standard Geirail ones at the time being. As he gradually proceeded into the debris zone he put his propulsion at very low, so that he might better conceal his presence amidst all the remnants scattered over the area. Some of the old reactors scattered over the place were likely still functioning. Such finds would eventually find themselves into the hands of scavengers or pirates.

[color=fff79a][i]'Control is of outmost importance, not only in a mobile suit but the world as a whole. In chaos none is safe. But is the order which Rustal Elion stands for to be victorious in the end, or will it be...'[/i][/color] Charles snapped out of his thought process as his slow drifting amidst the debris was picking up some odd object ahead.  Was it the missing scout? Much like himself, this particular scout had been transfered to the vessel. Why would they specifically transfer that one man of no significant rank to this place?

Dwelling on the reasonings of the military higher ups generally provided more headaches than answers, and thus Charles decided to leave it be. What use was it to ponder upon something which he might find out soon enough. The scout couldn't have gotten far. As Charles and his machine, the Gullinkambe drifted closer towards the distant object it turned out to be a ship. An old ship. It was likely a Gjallarhorn one. But Charles couldn't place what type of class the ship were. But there was clear activity there. He could see things swarming by it, like flies around a carcass. 

[color=fff79a][i]'Looks like the scout was the one being scouted, but even hunters can be hunted...'[/i][/color] Charles had a smile begin to crawl up on his lips as he reached out with his arms at the controls. It was time to move, he had gotten close enough and from what he could tell the scout was still alive. That it would be pirates fighting amongst each other in a place like this was rare, and it wasn't profitable for them. 

Charles finally allowed his machine to fully use all it's thrusters and he pushed his custom Geirail forth. How Charles loved how it felt, the pressure on his ribcage, how his breathing would be strained, how he could feel his body tense up in anticipation of what would come. The force in which the thrusters of his machines were operating at, was deemed dangerous by many pilots. Even some of the better ones. Then now and again there would be someone who would scoff at the very idea of piloting an outdated model.

[color=fff79a][b]"Let us awaken the dormant to fight, Gullinkambe!"[/b][/color] Charles said in an eager manner, he wanted to see just what opponents he would encounter this fateful day. He had already passed beyond the point where he could no longer contact the ship which he had launched from, the amount of debris would cause interference. However within a short distance in the field such would surely...

[color=fff79a][b]"This is Le Greif! Come in, Ortega! Status report? Over!"[/b][/color] He called out on the signal ID which the scout should have had according to the captain, before turning on the open channel. [color=fff79a][b]"This is Major Charles Le Greif, of the Arianrhod fleet. Unknown mobile suit pilots, under the laws of Gjallarhorn you are to state your intentions and if it is regarded as unlawful we demand that you surrender. You will not be harmed. I repeat, you will not be harmed if you comply. Over."[/b][/color] Charles said in a loud if not abit stoic manner over the channel, no doubt there would be some reaction. A part of him was craving for battle, while the other was craving for knowledge just what was going on here. If he would be lucky, perhaps he could obtain both.

Being all formal and speaking of the current laws of Gjallarhorn was making him partly ill on the inside. It was far simpler to just do battle, and letting someone else do the talking. It wasn't that he disliked to talk, on the contrary, Charles was fond of speaking with others. But not in the formal kind. Philosophical, existencial discussions were more to his liking. And matters regarding the near future, and what could be done to make it better. Better was such a subjective word.