"Hey! Hey, wake up! The refugees are leaving."
He roused from his slumber and looked at the monitor in front of him. It showed the Trojan Horse, several miles away, on the ground, immobile. Now would be the perfect time to strike it with every long range missile they had, but Garma's temporary ceasefire would see none of that. A set of hangar doors opened and three larges trucks slowly emerged, pulled several hundred feet from the ship, and stopped.
From across the way, a small cadre of Zeonic trucks and ambulances made their way to meet them. The trucks met, and those from Zeon encircled the Federation vehicles, before leading them away.
Several minutes passed before the visage of Captain Garma came on screen. His message was to the commander of the Trojan Horse, but it was relayed to all Zeonic forces in the area as well.
"We've complied with the terms of the ceasefire. These people will be given the best care possible. We are not monsters, sir." He sipped his tea. "And now, seeing as that business is done, the ceasefire is officially over. Fire at will, boys."
The pilots of the Big John smiled. "About damn time."