A very fast, very expensive, supersonic sub orbital personal space plane jetted the young Preventer couple from that understaffed, under competent, canal base, run by the underclass of the bloated former Alliance Noncommissioned Officer Corp. Some of the more stupid, yet still ambitious, of the uniformed roughnecks ogled over the presence of Zechs and Noin, and therefore tried to demonstrate how tough they could be, at the severe expense of Heorot Manuela. Imagine, those toughs pushing around Manuela, as if 'he's' the thug! Well, Zechs Merquise made sure to remember those names.

'It's Randle, with one el, and it's Matthews, with two tees.' Got it, Davis Randle, and Andrew Matthews, serial numbers 251191, and 119235, both light skinned, brown eyes, one has brown hair, and the other's is closer to red.

"Those punks can wait, Babe, I have them written up right here," assured the Count, tilting his laptop her way, "I just mailed it in where somebody had better take action on it. I set the priority high, so things had better happen with it."
He relaxed, she put down her phone.

'That was simple, but how many times can I "stay on top of things," before she figures out I'm concealing something?'
He visibly registered that he'd been restraining her from phoning, and gently started caressing that hand.

'Smooth, but is she starting to perceive me as too controlling? Guess I must throw out my trump now.'
He deftly palmed a black box from his sole handbag and paraded it before Noin.

'Treize, if you're upstairs, please explain to the big guy that I'm doing what's best here, but I still can't believe I'm using this very act as a decoy!'

"In the past few years, it has been my observation that we've both changed jobs many times, and yet, we have perpetually been close coworkers this whole time. At one of these exotic locations, Antarctica, Mars maybe, I started thinking that odd coincidence meant something," he opened the case, displaying a massive, finely cut, piece of jewelry, "This is an old hydrocarbon that churned away deep inside Jupiter. Over eons, the intense pressures in the planet hardened it into an unbreakable crystal. A very long time ago, a comet called Shoemaker-Levy 9 collided with the planet and kicked this material out, where Europa captured it in its gravity well. The diamond orbited for a while, then fell deep into the icy surface. This hardy little rock has the integrity to withstand the focusing power needed for a planet-destroying laser, but when I first saw it, I only thought about how pretty it would look on you," his face burned crimson.

"I want to wed you, miss. Do you want to wed me?"

'She's crying. Don't feel guilt, Idiot, this is what this whole vacation was about. My intentions are pure; I just have to make some slight concessions to reality. I shouldn't have to rationalize this at all. All proposals, from the beginning of this custom, have been carefully calculated seductions masterfully played out by males. We cunningly orchestrate this emotional manipulation, and the womenfolk have their revenge by planning the wedding. I just hope she's going traditional.'

"(Sniffle) Zechs, the band is made of Gundanium. Absolutely, I'll be your bride, but Gundanium is a synthetic metal, and synthetics are traditionally considered tacky," she laughed jestingly, "I'd like a June ceremony, a reasonably short distance from work, so everyone can come, maybe Flanders. The outdoors should be perfect in June."

Perfect, alright, Zechs envisioned a blooming field as flat as Kansas, full of sun. Since A.D 1914-1918, A.D 1939-1945, and AC 195, those fields have swallowed a lot of raw compost, and now display some of the most ripened foliage in the Earth Sphere.
But who cares about ancient killing fields, his lips are brushing against those of his thrilling companion!

Somalia

Abdul relayed Trowa's message to Nichol, Sally, Dorothy, and Townsend, letting them here about the situation in his own words. Sally tapped Miss Darlian on the shoulder.

"Um, Releana, Nichol and I'll have to go back out. Will you please fill in for me here?" Releana hesitated, taken aback.

"Why sure, I'll do whatever you need, Ms. Poe," she said unsurely, at a loss.

"Thanks, kid, I'll be back soon."

Minutes later

The quartet suited up in the Lounge Site while getting an ear full from the holographic Duo Maxwell.
He told them to acquire the amphibious six-wheeler in the garage, and to keep the throttle open the whole time. He led them through his secret passage and hit the garage lights.

"Here you go. I took the liberty of warming up the engine for you. Tally ho!" "Thank you, Duo, and Godspeed with this establishment," Sally welcomed, "Mr. Nichol, take us into the fight at all possible speed!" Sally sat at the gunner's station, and Dorothy sat behind the driver, probably the safest seating. Townsend took the front passenger seat. The garage door ascended automatically, and the gate slid open. One guard in a blue shirt and tie saluted as they passed. Nichol returned the gesture, and hit the high beams only after passing them.

"Preventer Water, as the senior medical officer on the expedition, you must be the one we must drop off to administer aid to Rashid. His condition is unknown, but the humane thing to do is to check on him," Nichol shouted over the engine noise.

"I concur. Dorothy, please take my gun once we arrive at the op point." "I will, Sally."

"Then it's settled," the doctor confirmed. Minutes later, they reached the sight. Sally passed a spotlight over the pockmarked beach, but didn't cast her light on any wounded men.

"I see a body!" Count Townsend pointed, and Sally's light followed his finger.

"Alright, slow down, Nichol," he did, and Sally lugged her medical bag over to Rashid.

"Rashid, can you hear me?" She rolled his massive bulk over, and his eyes opened.

"I'm not critical, Sally. I'm not bleeding anywhere, but the cannon gave me a concussion- hurts like a mother- and contusions from head to toe."
Sally tried to comfort him.

"I'm glad you're okay. Just let me go through a routine checkup, then we'll focus on taking you to a more comfortable place."
True to his word, Rashid had no bleeding. She feared his spleen was ruptured, but she found no sign of him bleeding out.

"You're good." She whipped out her phone, and dialed Maxwell House.

"Security, this is Preventer Water. The beach is no longer hot. I need a car to extract a patient. No, his condition isn't critical, but I'm telling you, the beach isn't hot, so a pickup shouldn't be all that difficult. Thank you, I'm at Rashid's op point, right on it. Preventer Water out."

Noventa Cannon Complex

Flames above Mogadishu licked the horizon from Trowa's perspective as he peered through the open hanger, and wispy clouds absorbed the pale moonshine. Did these two phenomena of the fire raging in some neighborhoods of the city cancel out its effect on ambient lighting?

Perhaps, but he only cared that more light would help him stalk out armed complex personnel. His starlight scope was the only pair of NVGs still working within the taskforce, and their green glow came in dim and opaque.

'Every soldier signs up knowing that he'll have to put himself in harms way at some point, but isn't this just a little extreme?' He pondered at the wisdom of jumping into the hanger.
His SMG (submachine gun) had none of the fancy bells-and-whistles of the 'land warrior' program, so he couldn't just probe around with a camera- mounted gun and find the enemy, their shoestring budget disallows the use of such extravagances, so safe options ran thin.

He hesitated a few beats, steeled himself, then heard the open throttle of an invading vehicle climb the service road.
Green tracers lanced from the hanger on Trowa's right, and Quatre swept wide around the corner for a double-tap shot.

"Got him! Go!" Duo carted Hilde behind Quatre, and Trowa followed, carting WuFei. They raced toward the entrance as Quatre crab-walked with them, keeping his SMG at the ready.
A big vehicle-mounted chain gun barraged a wide arc that included the old observation tower. Return fire trickled in comparison, and didn't impede the six-wheeler backing into the hanger.

"Zero Three calling Water, Zero Three, calling Water, we're in the hanger, and I can see you. I repeat, we see you, and we're here with you. We're merging with your group. Do you read?"

"Zero Three, this is Nichol. Water is attending the wounded at the Rashid op point. I acknowledge that you're joining us. You have four wounded, correct?"

"Correct. I'm staying to complete the mission. Abduls details are sketchy; who's coming with me?"

"We can stop using the radio now, you're right in front of me." Trowa grimaced, and jostled WuFei into a seat.

"Dorothy and I'll join you, and Townsend will drive the Amphib out. Hey Quatre! Can you man the machine gun? Good, now get your butts out of here!" Nichol and Dorothy dismounted, and gestured thumbs up to the departing amphibious crew.

"Do you understand that our options dectate my plan for taking down the auxiliary firing station? They have one entrance, and every place but one duct is clamped up tighter than a spy at confession. The front door is a killer, and locked up with a vault door anyway. The walls, just like the rest of the compound, are thick granite, and there's another option, entering from the submarine pen. The duct is open for one, so I'll crawl through that space, as I said I would earlier. Where will you guys be for the takedown?"
Nichol spoke up.

"A front door insertion. The locking mechanism is made of steel, and is vulnerable to the torpex limpet mine we're carrying. It's a shame you weren't better briefed on the plan, Trowa, but the security measure was necessary. These guys handle the intelligence angle better than most world- peace arsonists. Anyway, once the locking mechanism is broken, we can just give the door a good tug, and it'll swing open."
They split apart, content with their roles. But as they split apart, a sudden jolt added urgency to their mission.

Preventer Central Office Building

"Oh Lord, it fired again!" Une swiveled her head to the television, and saw the flash. A beam of light climbed high into the air, and the helicopter camera tried to follow the comet head.

"Where's it going?" Said one.

"It's got to be us, we're dead!" Une tried to take command of the situation.

"Bring up the ballistic tracking screen up, pronto!" Someone did so, and the track wasn't for Luxemburg, but for...

"Patch me through to our space station, and tell it to take an evasive turn!" The dispatcher opened a line to the observation station.

"Station, the cannon fired at you. Climb into a higher orbit, quickly!"

"Roger!" The station kicked up to full thrust, but the cannon's deadly buckshot cast a wide net, and nothing could be done.

"We lost the feed, Madam."

Noventa Cannon Complex

"Zero Three here, I'm in position," Trowa radioed from his inverted op point, hanging upside down in the air duct. He's seen one patrol pass underneath him, and he's already had to disassemble several spike strips meant to rip-up trespassers.

"Nichol here, acknowledged. We've also reached our point, and have no Nemo Charlie (first letters from Noventa, the second for Cannon, NC) in sight. Water's returning with Townie, ETA (estimated time of arrival) under eight minutes. Figure we'll clear the room?"
Yes, but only if we keep the op tempo.

"Cut the chatter and go!" Nichol pasted the torpex charge to the lock, and Dorothy stared down her gun barrel down the hall. Nichol yanked the fuse, a lanyard, and the exothermic chemical reaction ate a hole in the thick door. Then he yanked the door itself, and Trowa's grenades detonated while it still protected Dorothy. So when the door cleared, she hosed down an already wounded and conflicted path.

"I'm letting it fly... my line-of-sight is clear. Okay, Trowa, toss your smokes. Nichol, I need some lead laid down, so get your head up!"
Nichol felled a blind clip around the corner, and Dorothy stepped up to take more careful aim.

"Blind shooting doesn't really work," she shouted from her mask, orating, "this can be a difficult subject, but that is how the untrained do it, and the compiled evidence," she continued, killing throughout her discourse, "reveal that green soldiers make up nearly forty percent of the casualties in combat. I should add that noncombatants make up fully sixty percent. What does that tell you about being on top of things?"
Nichol pitched grenades, and Dorothy continued her marksmanship.

"That's the stuff, combined arms, sometimes referred to as 'overwhelming force.' The combination of suppression over a wide area with a precise accompaniment is the favored method of winning close-quarter engagements. Now all we need is a second team to storm in and shake the trees, or to put it another way, turn over all the stones until we're sure no one is still hanging on to a defensive position. Am I bugging you? Our second team's ETA is coming fast. Why'd the military acronym specialists settle on a non-word, anyway? Did they not see that 'estimated arrival time' is better? I'll use it in a sentence: we EAT in an hour. Isn't that so much better?"

The sedatives slowed the NC (remember the Nemo Charlie lecture?) force to lethargy, the CS tear gas obscured their vision, the grenades flushed out blood with metal fragments, and hollow-point bullets scooped out human matter, leaving wide exit wounds to bleed out. The NC reply was staccato and uneven.

"Trowa, you get out of there?" She would have said more, but Trowa descended from the vent, collapsing, but he rapidly rolled to his feet.

"Man, that hurt!"