In the Courtyard, the spaceport was as busy as ever. At every moment, ships were either departing or entering the harbor.
Aside from the skeleton crew required to maintain basic operations, everyone on the Nahel Argama had disembarked.
Spending too much time cooped up in a warship was a recipe for psychological issues—especially for this crew, whose mental states weren't exactly stellar to begin with.
"This is..."
Graham Aker, seated in an electric wheelchair, gazed at the bizarre, dreamlike world before him. "Is this your headquarters?"
Even though he had mentally prepared himself, the phantasmagoric sights of the Courtyard still sent his head spinning as he looked around in curiosity.
The reason he was entering this "Off-Duty" state in a wheelchair was due to the sheer physical toll of using the Over Flag's "OverBooster" mode.
He had pushed his body far beyond its limits, aggravating his injuries; it would be quite some time before he made a full recovery.
When the maintenance crew had recovered his Flag, they couldn't help but marvel, wondering if Graham possessed some sort of "Causality" skill.
Every time he piloted a machine, it ended up on the verge of total structural collapse—the moment he stopped piloting, the unit would practically disintegrate into a pile of scrap.
Of course, it was also possible that the structural integrity of his previous machines simply couldn't keep up with the output of the thrusters and the sheer intensity of his maneuvers.
"Calling it a headquarters isn't technically wrong," Jack, the ship's doctor acting as Graham's primary physician, said as he swapped his lab coat for casual wear and stood beside Graham. "But in most cases, our 'base' is simply the Nahel Argama itself."
"I see..." Graham fell silent for a moment. "By the way, where did Roz go?"
"Probably to deliver his debriefing," Jack replied after a bit of thought. "One thing, though... while you're moving around here, don't be surprised if you run into 'alternate world counterparts' who look exactly like you. It's perfectly normal. This is a place where various space-times intersect."
"Anyway, just take a good look around. According to the original schedule, the internal meeting and the decision for our next move won't happen for another two or three days."
With that, Jack casually dropped a paper map onto Graham's lap, slid on a pair of sunglasses, and walked off whistling.
"Take a good look around... sounds easy enough, but where am I supposed to go?"
Graham looked at his hands, covered in the calluses earned from years of piloting mobile suits, and tightened his grip. "A wheelchair, huh... I suppose it's not that different from a cockpit."
He reached out, gripped the joysticks on the wheelchair's armrests, and prepared to take his first step into this unknown world.
Just then, he felt a gaze scanning him. Graham followed his instincts and looked toward the source, his eyes widening in shock.
Across the street, a man in a Celestial Being pilot suit stood there. Part of his hair shimmered with a silvery-gray metallic luster. This "Graham" was staring back at him—the "Wheelchair-form Graham"—with a truly bizarre expression.
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Inside the slightly sci-fi "Administrative Center" at the very heart of the facility.
In the "Meeting Room," a white Giant Haro—clearly the superior of the Big Haro and several sizes larger—was currently extending a mechanical arm and "clanking" repeatedly against the top of the Big Haro's "head."
"How did you have the nerve to submit a report like this?!"
While knocking on the Big Haro, the Giant Haro pointed another mechanical arm at a projected virtual screen. "What were you doing? Slacking off the entire time?!"
"I know you've been working overtime for so long that you'd engage in retaliatory slacking once you're out of that environment, but you can't dump all the work on your Executor!"
"I did work! I went to help pilot the warship..." the Big Haro defended itself, trying to bob away from the Giant Haro's rhythmic pounding.
Roz could clearly see the Giant Haro's hitting speed increase. Strangely, he detected a sense of "wronged puppy eyes" in the Big Haro's electronic gaze.
"You have the gall to say that? Given your team's status and personnel reserves, they don't need your piloting assistance at all!" Hearing the excuse, the Giant Haro's mechanical arm accelerated further in its frustration.
Perhaps it was the material of the outer armor, or maybe the Giant Haro was pulling its punches; either way, Roz noticed that while the superior seemed furious, the Big Haro's chassis wasn't actually sustaining any dents.
"If you keep this up, what use does your Executor have for you?! Our goal is to assist Executors in completing missions safely and efficiently!"
"Eh? Is that how it works?" The Big Haro froze, as if suddenly enlightened. "I saw so many seniors making bodies for themselves to go off and marry their Executors, I thought we were a matchmaking agency..."
"Shut up! That is NOT our core business!" The Giant Haro raised its mechanical arm and swung down with real force this time.
Seeing the heavy mechanical arm descending, the Big Haro's eyes dimmed, instinctively conveying a sense of "cowering in fear."
But in the next second, a hand blocked the path of the arm. The Giant Haro jerked to a stop just before making contact with the palm.
"Uh... Mr. Haro Supervisor?" Roz glanced back at the Big Haro behind him, then looked at the Giant Haro. "I think Big Haro has realized its mistake. How about we stop for now? I believe getting some constructive feedback for improvement is more important than scolding it all day."
"You... Sigh. Since you put it that way, let's move on to the next item on the agenda." Looking at Roz standing in front of it, and then at the Big Haro peeking out from behind Roz's back, the Giant Haro let out a heavy sigh.
Actually, Big Haro's main feeling was that of "resenting iron for not becoming steel." If Big Haro truly maintained this state, then how was the Courtyard's matchmaking... cough, support business on Roz's side supposed to function?
"…To be honest, Raven Roz, compared to the reports of other Executors responsible for pursuit, this report of yours isn't exactly excellent; it barely hits the passing grade."
Big Haro began analyzing Roz's performance within the report.
"You are very confident and your combat power is strong, that much is beyond doubt. However, the job of pursuit requires more than just powerful combat ability and self-confidence; intelligence gathering and target positioning are also vital components. Furthermore, excessive confidence might allow a target to escape by a stroke of luck. Regarding advice for you... I believe you can seek out some Executors who have made achievements in this field for guidance."
Big Haro used its processor to think for half a second before offering a somewhat tactful suggestion.
"However, according to your past data, you've done a decent job with the recovery or destruction of intruders. You can start with those types of missions and gradually expand to other tasks."
"As for you, Big Haro..."
Looking at the Big Haro behind Roz, the Big Haro [the superior] desperately wanted to send it flying with a mechanical arm, but fearing it might hit Roz, it could only pull back and speak sternly: "You haven't skipped installing the various plug-in modules on the Courtyard network entirely, have you...?"
"Eh? Do I still need to install things like that now?"
Big Haro froze for a moment, extending its mechanical arm to point at itself.
"Nonsense! Did you think being assigned to an Executor meant everything was fine and dandy? The Executor is growing, and you need to grow too—do something within your power!"
Big Haro scolded with a sense of frustrated expectation: "From the lower end like network information integration, event follow-up speculation, and fund management, to the higher end like piloting transformable warships and ultra-giant MS, you must gradually master these plug-ins and modules!"
"Whew... anyway, that is the extent of the advice I can give you."
After Big Haro finished speaking, it seemed to relax. "The settlement subsidy for this mission has already been deposited into your accounts."
"Right, regarding this mission..."
Roz seemed to remember something and said, "Can the wrap-up for this 00 world be handed over to me? I still felt a bit uneasy before leaving; it feels like some things aren't finished yet."
"No problem, the mission has already been assigned to you. It just so happens you are relatively familiar with the situation there."
In response to Roz's words, Big Haro calmly assigned the task. "But the timeline over there is currently progressing rapidly. Intervening rashly might create more problems. I suggest you take on some other missions first."
"It just so happens, Raven Roz, there is a designated mission here."
As if remembering something, Big Haro sent a new task to Roz. "A retired old man in the Courtyard, Char, has a mission he wants to entrust to you. You need to go to his residence to discuss the details."
"...A retired old man?"
Hearing this prefix, Roz instinctively froze for a moment.
"The one who frequently writes and publishes books—that Char. Your Big Haro has even bought quite a few of his works."
Just as Big Haro was clamoring about how "this was all part of the effort to cultivate Roz into a Newtype" and similar remarks, the [superior] Big Haro ushered them out.
Roz was invited out, but as for Big Haro, the [superior] Big Haro "kicked" it out of the meeting room door like a billiard ball.
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Meanwhile, on the other side, in a manor within the Courtyard, the "retired old man Char," wearing his pajamas, was reclining in his rocking chair.
He gazed calmly at the scenery before him, while on the chat app of the communicator in his hand, Amuro was incessantly spamming all sorts of fierce opinions regarding his new book.
Clearly, even Amuro, who was on good terms with this "retired old man," could not endure the fact that the public reputation of Newtypes was repeatedly declining because of Char's books.
However, Char was evidently preoccupied with other matters.
"My younger self... to think he would intrude into that particular year."
Recalling the information he had received, Char felt a mounting headache. "UC 0105... that time period..."
Within the Courtyard, the existence of individuals like Hathaway and Lane Aim was not unknown, and the events that occurred in UC 0105 had already been recorded in the information database.
Precisely because he knew his own past state of mind, Char felt this headache; perhaps it truly required an "Amuro" to resolve the issue.
Or perhaps that young man from last time, who could go back and forth in a fight with Amuro, would be a good choice.
Just then, a text message arrived on Char's communicator.
It read: "Raven Roz has accepted the assigned mission."
....................