okay this is the first chapter of the new and hopefully improved version of a story that contains characters I have no ownership over yadda yadda yadda


Chapter 1:

Of new arrivals and resistance.

The Assault Ship Archangel flew majestically over the endless waves and drifts of sand * of the desert, her bright colour scheme shrouded by the darkness of night and the sparse cloud cover available. Inside the vessel's many corridors and bulkheads there was a hive of activity, though-out the ship there where members of the crew attempting to fix the damage from the many battles in space since the Archangel's launch weeks ago. The atmosphere among the crew of the archangel was one of mixed feelings; many the soldiers onboard were just glad to be down on Earth and out of combat for how ever short a time it was till ZAFT** found them again, the refugee volunteers however were feeling a keen sense of loss after the brief and one sided brawl that preceded the Archangel's plunge into the skies of Earth.

Watching the strange vessel from the crest of a sand dune was a small convoy of military vehicles, aircraft and mobile suits, the commander of this little procession was a tall statuesque man with a healthy tan and brown windswept hair, wrapped up in a standard issue ZAFT greatcoat to ward of the chill of the desert night; Commander Andrew Waltfield, the man known as the 'Desert Tiger' (ZAFT's answer to Erwin Rommel) was a brilliant tactician and a dangerous combat pilot in his own right though he did have a strange coffee making fixation that continued to confuse his subordinates endlessly. Andrew Waltfield lowered his binoculars and took a sip from the mug in his other hand, slowly his expression changed to one of grim excitement and he smirked as he followed the enemy vessel as it made a semi dignified landing on the sands, he could tell this was going to be a good night……..the coffee told him so and he trusted his favourite beverage entirely.

* well as majestically as something with hardly any real aerodynamic design features can.

** Zodiac Alliance of Freedom Treaty……a name that makes no sense but I think they are meant to be like the Principality of Zeon.

Several hours later, (And two miles away from the ZAFT lookout post) deep within the maintenance hangers of the Archangel two figures worked away at getting the two new support fighters ready for combat as soon as was humanly possible* since the Archangel had been hounded through it's journey home by the space forces of ZAFT; the opposing side in a epic ongoing battle between the armies of Earth and the armies of the space colonies**, one of the figures was the decorated combat pilot Mwu La Flaga (Known for kicking the shit into people who made fun of his name) known throughout both sides of the conflict as The hawk of Endymion, at this particular point in our story he is one half of the Archangel's only mobile weapon pilots and the only one currently in any fit state for active duty. Mwu dragged the back of his hand across his grime and oil streaked brow before turning to his companion and asking,

"hey, Murdoch, do really you think we can get these two 'Skygrasper' units ready in time for dawn?"

Kojiro Murdoch was the Chief Engineer of the Archangel, a man of good humour hidden behind gruff mannerisms and patchy stubble however to many of the younger crew members, most noticeably the teenage volunteers, he had become a sort of father figure to them, giving helpful advice and the occasional mocking comment that helped to bind the crew together and keep moral from plummeting. Murdoch removed the upper half of his body from the engine section of the Skygrasper he was leaning over and attempted to clean his hands on a rag before he answered,

"Should just about make it, though things would go faster if we had a little bit more help" without bothering to wait for Mwu to reply Murdoch reached back into the aircrafts fuselage and tried to tighten some of the nuts inside with his tools,

"I can't wait for the shift to change, I'm been fiddling with this damned thing since….we…landed!" Murdoch grunted out the last few words as he struggled to gain leverage on the wrench he had jammed around a particularly stubborn nut so he could finish locking the engine in place otherwise part of it could come lose and that wouldn't be particularly helpful for the pilot in mid flight.

Clambering out once his arduous task was complete Murdoch dropped his wrench back into his tool belt and surveyed his handy work; two fully flight capable fighter jets with integrated pilot heads up displays and navigation units along with two separate cup holders and some where to put all the heavy shopping, for the some reason that last feature still gave him a bit of trouble, luckily all that they had to install now was the weapon systems and missile hard points under the wings and the Skygrasper units would be ready for their first flight, looking over at his exhausted and grime covered companion Murdoch came to a decision; they would leave the final pieces of the aircraft for the next shift that came into the hanger, he worked his way across the floor of the hanger to Mwu's position and clapped the pilot on the shoulder forcefully, "Come on La Flaga, lets leave it for the next lot, they need the experience" Murdoch Smiled as he spoke and then clicked his neck before striding purposefully off in the direction of the crew quarters leaving Mwu sitting in one of the aircraft's cockpit, Mwu took a deep breath and let it out again with a sigh, "He's right, I'm completely drained" he looked down at himself and grimaced "And in dire need of a shower.....nice" with that final comment Mwu La Flaga climbed down from his perch, switched off the hanger lights and ambled off in search of a hot shower and some well earned rest.

*The Natural version of ASAP obviously, the Coordinator version would be played at double speed with amusing sound effects.

**It eventually boils down to a huge case of Space Racism….…hmm that sounds like a bad horror film.

There are those who believe that they are always being observed........but they are just being paranoid

In the desert not everyone was happy with the way ZAFT was conducting the war in the Sahara; occupying villages and taking hard earned resources away from their owners, needless to say no one is going to take that sort of meddling lying down.

The resistance group known as 'The Desert Dawn' had been a thorn in the paw of the Desert Tiger since ZAFT and the war had reached the North African theatre; cutting supply lines and ambushing troop convoys was about all they could do though, conventional small arms were no use against ZAFT's heavily armoured mobile suit teams. Sahib Ashman, Commander of The Desert Dawn, watched both the ZAFT surveillance post and the Earth Alliance's fancy new battleship alternately through his binoculars, the arrival of such a powerful and down right dangerous vessel was sure to rile up ZAFT into acting stupidly and this was something he and his brave band of freedom fighters could use to their advantage, Sahib let a smirk play across his bearded features as he contemplated just how it was best to use this new found distraction and possible ally*, however not all of his band of valiant resistance fighters took the discovery of the Archangel as a good sign.

A feminine figure stood a few metres away from the main group of Sahib's men, long tresses of blond hair that was partially covered by a battered grey forage cap that she had pulled low over her determined eyes and pale face, wrapping her thick coat tighter to ward of the cold she focused her gaze on the Archangel and her eyes hardened, that ship and the mobile suit it carried were created by a supposedly neutral faction and just the very idea of such a thing made her blood boil, suddenly the voice of her guardian distracted her from anymore angry thoughts,

"Princess! we're moving off, Sahib has a plan that is going to need everybody's input to pull off" the girl turned towards her burly bodyguard and nodded, a humourless smile on her face, 'maybe...just maybe I make this better for my homeland' she thought as she scrambled back down from the crest of the dune towards the line of idling transport trucks.

*Cannon fodder