At the Federation base, a lone Core fighter circles awaiting clearance to land. After the usual exchange of security clearance codes. The Fighter was finally allowed to touch down. Taxing off the runway and to where the other planes were kept. Grounds crew quickly swarmed over the fighter. Throwing chalk between the landing gear as another brought a boarding ladder over. The Canopy of the Fighter rose up with a hiss as the Pilot removed their Helmet. As the Helmet came off, a cascade of shimmering strawberry blond hair tumbled down in thick golden ringlets down around the pilots shoulders. Piercing blue eyes that spoke of strength and confidence peered and surveyed the Base. "Whew, it is hot." A honey sweet voice spoke out rhetorically. "Welcome Colonel Cunningham." A Major that had trotted up stated as he came to a attention and saluted.<br/><br/>Colonel Rebecca Cunningham stood up and climbed out of the cockpit. Taking a chilled water bottle from one of the Grounds crew, she waved off the major. "Good Afternoon, Major." She said with a British accent. Standing at 5'6" tall, she had a slender athletic build and a cherub face that made people think she was much younger than she actually was at 36 years old. "I am glad to see your flight was uneventful." The Major stated in a friendly manner. Rebecca's eyes narrowed upon him. "Uneventful my tight ass! I narrowly avoided being picked up by Zeke Dopp Fighters twice." She growled. "Why is there no air patrols? How are our Mobile suits suppose to establish Ground Dominance when we don't have control of the skies?" She continued. Rebecca was a Fighter pilot through and through and while She did believe in Air Power, She also understood that the best force was a combination of air and ground forces. Each supporting the other.<br/><br/>"You see, Ma'am. All our fighters are usually grounded for maintenance issues. It is hard enough to get parts for our MS." He yelped at the steely cold blue eyes looking at him. The Major spoke truth. While the Northern African theater of conflict was important. It was actually on the lower end of the "Priority" Spectrum. Meaning that Parts, New MS and planes were generally slated for Higher priority theaters and Africa got the left overs. Rebecca growled a bit in frustration, but couldn't blame the Major for something that was obviously out of his control. "Let's go Major....Miles" Rebecca said as she looked onto the Name tap of the Major before following him off the Tarmac.