-Archangel, July 7, C.E. 71, 0830.
Oh sure, they're close...but our nation's neutral, so we're safe... Those had been the words he'd spoken to her on Heliopolis months ago. Then, their lives had been peaceful and carefree believing that the war would never reach them. But now, the war was all around her, and he was gone, a victim of it. Many aboard the ship had felt the sting of losing a close one during the war, but none of them compared to the suffering Miriallia Haw had endured.
As the Archangel's Combat Controller for the Mobile Suits and other aircraft, she had a major duty aboard the bridge along with her friend Sai Argyle, who had just returned to the ship after a long absence. She performed this duty to the best of her abilities despite not having the appropriate amount of training or experience, but she seemed to be doing pretty well for herself. She was now learning to operate the CIC which would allow Chief Machinests Mate Murdoch more time to work in the hangar on the mobile suits and support aircraft.
Her life as just another ordinary citizen had been cut sadly short by the ZAFT attack on Heliopolis six months earlier and she had been serving aboard this ship all that time. Her boyfriend Tolle Koening had also enlisted on the ship as the ship's helmsman. But, after heavy fighting ensued on route to the Alaska Base, Tolle had volunteered to pilot the ship's second Skygrasper unit, but this had eventually led to his demise. At the hands of ZAFT pilot Athrun Zala, Tolle had been beheaded and killed instantly, shattering her very heart and soul. For the next few days and weeks, she had been a wreck, crying often and neglecting her duties to the Earth Forces. Sai had tried to comfort her, but she still felt the turmoil burning inside of her every time she saw Tolle's picture.
Her feelings had even taken her to attempted murder. After the battle in which Tolle had lost his life, a ZAFT pilot had been captured and his mobile suit brought aboard. When he had first seen Miriallia, he had complimented her on her cuteness, but had also insulted her because of her constant crying. Later, after collapsing during a routine exercise, she had been placed in a medical room that she was shocked to discover was occupied by the captured pilot. His continued insults caused her to lose control. Seeing a knife on a nearby table, she had taken up the metallic dagger and attempted to stab the pilot, but had been restrained by Sai. Immediately afterward, her friend Flay had tried to shoot the pilot but Miriallia had stopped her. She still really didn't know why.
Today, she sat in the Archangel's mess hall, sipping a drink that she had made herself. She had been able to see Kira and Sai in the short time in which they weren't consumed by their duties since they had returned yesterday. Now she was alone, just sitting there contemplating her thoughts and wondering what might have been...
"Hey..." a voice said from the side. She turned her face to see Dearka approaching with a drink of his own.
"Hi, Dearka..." she answered, managing a slight smile. She had only learned his name after Alaska when he had confessed to her that he had not killed Tolle. Since then, she had grown to see Dearka as a friend, not an enemy, though she still wasn't on the best of relations with him. He placed his drink on the table and took the seat across from the brunette.
"Been doin' alright?" he asked cheerfully.
"I've managed..." she replied, not making eye contact with him. "You have no idea what it's been like here since you got back."
"Yeah," he remarked, "everybody seems joyful and happy. Probably because they've got a hero like Colonel Namora on board."
She laughed a little at this. It was true, of course. Every crew member had been ecstatic yesterday when Mwu and the others returned. Even Captain Ramius was overjoyed, though she didn't show it. Miriallia knew the Captain had feelings for the dashing pilot, but since there was a war going on, she hadn't let it interfere with her duties.
She finally lifted her head and stared at the young man in front of her. His eyes had been locked on her, but once she made eye contact, they averted her gaze, pretending to be interested in something else. Miriallia looked back away from Dearka, not wanting him to see her stare. She knew her duties could not afford to be put aside for personal feelings, especially after what happened with Tolle. Still...
"Hey! Sai. Coop." Dearka yelled suddenly. His hand was waving off to the side and Miriallia saw Sai and another young man walking towards them, drinks also in their hands.
Sai took the seat next to Miriallia and Coop sat next to him. "You alright, Miri?" he asked.
"I'm fine Sai. Thank you."
"So, Sai," Dearka commented. "Is it true. You're a nose-gunner now?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact I am. Though I really don't understand why...I guess Tim wasn't hitting his marks in the simulator..." Sai responded doubtfully.
"Oh and you were," Dearka answered sarcastically. Sai had never been known for his skills with a weapon, but more for his computer skills. Seeing him working the fifty caliber nose guns on the J wasn't something he could see in his mind.
"Yeah...I guess I was..." Sai said. "At least I've got Commander la Flaga and Kira as my pilots, so I know I won't get flack up in my face."
"You never know Sai..." Miriallia said softly, though no one else really heard her.
"You're in not too bad a shape either Dearka," Sai continued. "I mean, you've got Athrun as your co-pilot and you've got the best tail-gunner in the entire unit in Ensign Haas-."
"But," Dearka interrupted holding up a hand for emphasis, "We've also got a rookie nose-gunner and a navigator with practically no sense of direction. Why they're in this unit I'll never know."
"I still can't figure out why either of you are here." Cooper commented from the side. Dearka and Sai looked at him accusingly.
"That supposed to mean anything Bradford?" Dearka said.
"No, no...I'm not looking for an ass kickin' here. I just meant that you're not officially with the Earth Forces Dearka." Coop responded, holding his hands up in his defense.
"That's not surprising coming from the Basilisk's kid." "Basilisk" was General Woodrow Bradford's call-name. "Plus, you've got it made. You've got the Medal of Honor, and to top it off, you're the Colonel's nose-gunner. Talk about luck."
"Yeah, well, it's not exactly easy being me." Coop said. "Everybody knows me as just Woodrow Bradford's son. I'd kind of like to be known in my own right someday..."
With that, Sai stood up from his spot. "Come on guys. The Colonel wants us all down there at 0930."
"Yeah, you're right," Dearka answered, also getting up. "See you around, Miriallia." He said as he walked off with the other two. Miriallia casually waved back at him. She felt much better now though. With her friends back here, she had been able to move on somewhat from where she had been prior to this morning. She had enjoyed listening to the young pilot's chatter. There was also something else Miriallia couldn't recognize, a feeling inside of her that she wasn't sure about, but she shrugged it off and headed out of the mess hall ready for her shift on the bridge.
-Archangel, 0900.
"Mwu, I know! I know! You're just gonna have to go get him." John shouted through his radio. He was standing on the bridge of the Archangel waiting for his officers to arrive so he could start the briefing he was supposed to give. Right now, he and Jack were the only two there along with Captain Ramius and Lieutenant Badgiruel.
"Alright, I'll go get him John," Mwu responded dejectedly. "But you know how he gets when we interrupt his practice." The radio went dead and John turned back to the two women behind him.
"They'll be here in a minute. Mwu's just gotta go drag Hugh out of his sword practice." He turned his head toward the viewport. "Now all that's left is Frank and who knows where he is."
"I'll go look for him if you wish, sir." Natarle replied.
"Thank you, Lieutenant, but first let me find out where he is exactly," John turned back around and thumbed on his radio, hailing Mwu again. "Hey, Mwu. Where the hell is Frank?"
"It's Saturday morning John," Mwu replied.
"Right," John answered embarrassed, "Thanks, Mwu." Turning back to the Lieutenant he said, "He's down at the shooting range, Lieutenant."
Natarle saluted and walked off the bridge and into the elevator, descending two floors to where the ship's shooting range was. It was a rifle target area where the ship's crew members could practice with the guns that were supplied to them. She had never taken part in any of the shooting, because she felt there was really no need to handle a side-arm on a ship as well-defended as this one was.
She turned a corner to where the range was and stepped inside. At first, she saw no one in the range area. Is he even here... she thought. She knew Lt. Commander Barkhesh was the Captain's older brother and if he was anything like she was, she would have hell of a time finding him. He's probably just as soft...
Before she could finish the thought, a sharp sound startled her. She jumped ever so slightly, regaining her composure before any more shock overcame her and looked ahead. There, manning a small hand-gun, was the Commander. A set of head-phones covered his ears to protect them from the sound of the gun which was enclosed firmly in both of his hands. A pair of goggles protected his eyes which were trained straight ahead on the destination his bullets were to go so she believed he hadn't noticed her come in. As Natarle approached him, she saw that he wasn't shooting at one of the military targets the ship carried. He was shooting at empty soda cans propped up on a shelf.
"Commander?" she said.
Her voice startled Frank out of his concentration and one of his shots went straight up into the ceiling. He turned his head to see her standing there and then removed his head-phones so he could hear while keeping hold of his gun in his right hand. "Oh...sorry Lieutenant. Didn't see you there." he responded calmly.
Natarle's expression did not share the same calm. "Why were you shooting at soda cans, Commander?" she asked, folding her arms, "Military regulations state that you're only supposed to shoot at the designated target boards and anything otherwise will be used against you."
Frank held out his hands and answered, "But I already tore through three of them. What else was I gonna shoot at?"
Natarle raised her eyebrows at this but looked over anyway. He was right. Three target boards lay in pieces on the floor, bullet holes strewn through every one. Scattered along with them were various aluminum cans with bullet holes in each of them, some of them still smoking. Damn... she thought. He's good...
"I guess you're right," Natarle responded, knowing she was defeated. Plus, she didn't want to get a senior officer angry at her. "But it looks like you missed one." she said pointing over to the shelves.
Frank looked over and saw that one lone can was standing where all the others had fallen to the ground. Without turning, he raised his gun, holding it sideways none the less, and fired. The shot came so fast that Natarle jumped again when the gun fired. The lone can sprang up into the air, tumbling end over end, arcing towards the two. It landed right in the middle of Frank's outstretched left hand, a bullet hole smoking right in the middle of it.
Frank flashed a grin at Natarle and said, "You were saying, Lieutenant." When Natarle did not smile in return, the smile disappeared from his face. What's up with her...? he thought. "Sorry..." he said softly, his eyes drifting down toward the floor.
"Let's go, Commander." she said sternly. "Colonel Namora wants you all up on the bridge, now." She turned and strolled out of the range and Frank stalked out after her, ripping off his goggles in the process. They walked back toward the bridge, Natarle walking a little bit ahead of Frank, mainly because her longer legs allowed her to take bigger strides than he did. Frank really had to struggle just to keep up until they reached the elevator and ascended toward the bridge.
"You been here long?" Frank said suddenly. Natarle's eyes moved to where he was, just staring off into space, his gun still twirling in his right hand.
"Ever since she was launched," she responded quickly. "Been here for almost seven months. Gotten shot at, shouted at, everything."
"Damn." he responded.
"Must you keep that thing out?" she asked sternly, referring to his gun. "That's not even military regulation."
"Yeah, I know. It's mine," he responded. He stopped twirling the gun and held it out. "Walther P-99. 7.65 millimeters. Belonged to my father. He gave it to me when I turned twenty-one. Never let it out of my sight since."
"Hmph..." Natarle grunted as the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. The two stepped out onto the bridge floor where Colonel Namora, Mwu, Hugh, and Murrue waited. They both saluted and waited for John's orders.
"Thanks for joining us Frank." John said. "Thanks also for doing it without a fuss,"
"Yeah..." Mwu agreed, casting a glance over at Hugh who apparently had raised hell about interrupting his practice.
"Enough guys," John said, quieting the two. "On to business. Captain."
Murrue punched a button on her counsel and the view screen lit up with a map of the Atlantic Ocean, a red blip representing the Archangel's current position with a red line projecting the ship's assigned course. They were now aligned with the coast of New Jersey, about 1,000 miles off the American coast. John pulled a cigar out from his jacket along with a lighter in his other hand, and turned to the Captain asking, "Do you mind, Captain?" A wave of Murrue's hand signaled to John that it was alright. He lit his cigar, took one puff, and began.
"This is our projected path people," John said, beginning, "We're to travel along this line at moderate speed, southward. That will put us at the designated point, 750 miles north of the Cuban coast, in about six days. That means we have five days to make sure nothing gets screwed up on the sixth day unless someone does something stupid." He took the lit cigar out of his mouth and used it as a pointer. "Intelligence has told us that ZAFT has scout ships patrolling areas as far north as the Georgia coast, so we'll have to be careful after we get past the Chesapeake. We can't afford to get buzzed by a stray ship, so I'd like to have surveillance working 24 hours a day. That alright Captain?"
"Yes, sir." she responded.
John continued. "Along the way, we'll have to keep strict radio silence. No calls to anyone, not even our superiors. If anyone tries to contact the ship, have it disconnected as quickly as possible, got that." After receiving nods from all six of his counterparts, he moved to stand before the map. "Once we arrive, our planes will launch from this ship and you'll turn the ship northward and head for Bermuda, Captain. Don't try to stay with us, you'll just get yourself killed. You reading me?" Nods all around once again. "As soon as we're airborne, we'll head due south toward the island. We won't be able to talk with you because we'll have our radio's on silence, but you'll be able to hear us, with the comm units built into the plane's cockpits. I've also equipped every one of the officers, meaning myself, Mwu, Hugh, and Frank with personal comms so we'll be able to contact you when we're on our way back. We'll have them shut off during our flight so they won't detect us." He put his cigar back in his mouth. "Any questions?" he asked.
"Straight hit and run mission?" Mwu asked.
"Basically, yes. Though if this works, ZAFT'll be crippled here in the Atlantic for a good seven months." John responded.
"How are you planning on getting back, sir?" Murrue asked.
"Once we drop our payloads we'll head south toward Colombia. There's a group of rebel forces down there who will do their best to keep the ZAFT off of us, but in all likelihood some of us will have to shoot our way out." He pulled out his cigar. "We'll rendezvous with the rebels and get on planes back to California. If all goes well we'll be back there in two weeks."
"What's the plan when we're over Cuba without any bombs and they start shootin' at us?" Frank asked.
"We've got two machine guns built into the planes, plus Intelligence tells us there's only thirty heavy anti-aircraft guns surrounding the base. Their mobile suits can't mobilize in the time they need to catch us. We'll be long gone by the time they get up."
No one else had any questions so John concluded the meeting then and there. Hugh rushed out of the bridge, eager to get back to his practice while Mwu moved to the front of the bridge and spoke to Neumann, though over what issues Frank couldn't hear. He saw his sister move to speak with Lieutenant Badgiruel. "I'm taking leave, Lieutenant. Take over for me, please." The Lieutenant nodded and Murrue walked toward the exit, waving Frank to follow. Once outside the bridge, safe from prying eyes, Murrue embraced her brother fiercely, both arms squeezing him for all they were worth.
They had both not seen each other in almost two years, and even now, they hadn't been able to spend any time together since he had come aboard. His own arms lifted her into the air, her feet rising off the floor. He could hear her giggling with delight as he set her down gently on the floor and released her.
"My, God," Frank said. "You've gotten more beautiful than you were when I last saw you."
Murrue playfully punched her brother on the arm. "That supposed to mean anything, Frank." A smile across her face told Frank she wasn't angry, just happy to see him. "You have a chance to meet everyone aboard?"
"Yeah," he responded. "Met Lieutenant Badgiruel earlier. Said I shouldn't shoot at soda cans even after I already tore through three target boards."
"Still using dad's pistol?" she asked with a smirk.
Holding out the pistol, Frank smiled. "You know it. I can't believe the old thing still works. Is the Lieutenant always like that?"
Murrue laughed. "No not always. Just when she's on duty. When she's off duty, she's just like everyone else. Kind of like you."
"Like me?" Frank asked, sounding hurt. "I am not like that when I'm on duty."
"Yeah, right." Murrue answered.
"Listen, you have to tell me everything," Frank said, putting his arm around his sister's shoulder. "Starting with Heliopolis, I want to hear all about these grand adventures you've been having. Spare no detail."
Murrue leaned against her brother like she had done when they were young. "You never change do you."
"No I don't." With that, the two siblings marched off for some long needed quality time together.
-Archangel, 1600.
"Well gentleman, now I can tell you...that we're going to Cuba...and we're gonna bomb it!"
Every member of the squadron responded to John's proclamation with rousing applause. Whistles screamed out amongst the eighty men standing around one of the J-bombers sitting in the Archangel's hangar. Kira applauded aimlessly from where he stood, near the front of the semi-circle the squadron was arranged in. Athrun stood next to him, equally applauding with vigor.
After the commotion died down, John continued. "That comes as a special order from the Inner Council. Archangel's gonna sneak us about 750 miles off the coast and we'll launch from there."
"This ain't ever been done before has it, sir?" Niada Barrington asked.
"No. I'm the first one to try it." he answered.
"Then I have another question." Niada said. "Are you in charge of this mission, or is the Council running things."
"I'm running the show here, Lieutenant," John responded, moving to stand before all of his men. "I give the orders."
"But what if the Council-."
"Niada." John broke in. "Do you honestly think I give a damn what the Council thinks. This is my mission. I've written it up, I've planned it to the extreme, and I'm not changing anything just because the idiots in the Council say to." Those final words were said with such a passion that Kira felt Namora had lost it. But in reality, Kira had to respect the man for believing in not only himself, but everyone around him to do the jobs they were assigned perfectly and without hesitation.
"Now then," John continued. "I have a project for the rest of you. Tomorrow afternoon, the Earth Forces media wants to get pictures of every one of us with our planes and-." John was cut off by a chorus of moans and groans. Kira was included because he hated taking pictures. In his mind, they just made you look stupid and like you were happy all the time.
"Guys, I know, I know, I hate taking pictures too." John managed to calm everyone down, and then he smiled. "That's why I'm going to let you customize the planes anyway you want to. Paint 'em, write on 'em, hell even put shit on the bombs if you want to. Just make these ladies look good alright. The only rule I'm setting is that the commanding officer aboard each aircraft will set the limitations on what you can put on. What that person says, goes. Capiche?" No responses came. "Then get to it. You've got until tomorrow afternoon. Make me proud." With that he walked off toward his own bomber, eager to start his own project.
Smiles spread across every person's face. Many scuttled off toward their aircraft planning what they would design in their heads. Kira walked off toward his own plane even after Tim and Leo ran ahead of him. He sported a cocky grin that sort of said exactly what Kira was thinking. Nothing's gonna stop us now...