-Archangel, July 7, C.E. 71, 1800.

Private 1st Class Jacob Alexander hoped he'd gotten it right. He'd spent nearly two hours working on it. It was to be his masterpiece. He'd practiced it almost every week, trying to perfect his designs and now was his finest hour. He just hoped he finished before-.

"Jake!" someone shouted from behind him. Jake practically jumped up in the air at the abrupt noise, and slowly turned his head to see his air commander, Lt. Commander Barkhesh standing behind him, arms folded, face crunched into a face of anger.

"Y-yes, sir...?" Jake said nervously.

"What the hell did I tell you Alexander?" Frank said sternly, moving forward to point at the design Jacob had been working on the plane. "I don't want titties on my airplane! Especially if you make 'em loop-sided. Now get rid of 'em before I get angry!"

"But, sir, the Colonel said-,"

"The Colonel said, you're to follow the guidelines set by the plane's commanding officer. That's me," Frank snapped. "I said do whatever you want, just don't put naked chicks on it. Do you understand now?"

Jacob groaned, but replied, "Yes, Commander..."

"Good. Now get rid of 'em and put something else on." With that, Frank stomped off leaving Jake alone. He began scraping off his artwork, but stopped when he heard someone snickering behind him.

"Don't laugh Donnie! Don't you laugh Donnie!" His friend Donnie Wiseman came out from his hiding place behind the plane's nose, a smile streaked across his face and laughter pouring from his mouth.

"Sorry, Jake," he said. "I just couldn't resist. Commander Barkhesh chewed your ass out so bad," Donnie was the youngest man in the squadron at just over 15, while Jake himself was just 17. Donnie served as co-pilot for one of the planes in Commander Swanson's unit while their other friend, Michael Lloyd, had the privilege of being chosen as Colonel Namora's co-pilot.

"What the hell's the matter with him anyway?" Jake said to his friend, all while continuing his overhaul. "He's not usually like this when's he's off duty."

"It's because his sister's the Captain here, Jake," Donnie replied moving up to help his friend with his work. "He has to act mature and officer-like if he's gonna one-up his sister."

"But he's already senior to her, so what the hell's he gotta prove?" Jake wondered out loud.

"Don't ask me," Donnie replied. "We just better get rid of your masterpiece before he comes back and chews out the both of us. Or worse, Lieutenant Badgiruel finds out about this."

"Why," Jake asked. "What's she gonna do?"

Donnie looked over at his friend with a serious look in his eyes. "You don't wanna know..."

-Archangel, 1900.

"So then I had him get rid of it and told him to put something else on it," Frank said. He and Mwu had been off duty for a good half an hour and now sat at the bar next to the Archangel's mess hall. Only people who were officers and old enough to drink were allowed here, and that basically limited it to only a few individuals. Right now, Frank and Mwu were the only two there. "God, what the hell's the matter with that kid?"

"He's friends with Donnie and Mike, that's what," Mwu responded, taking a drink from his beverage. "The three of 'em probably went through puberty late and there's still some aftershock going on with them. Kind of like the Barrington's and Haas when they were younger." They both laughed at that. It was true, Stevy, Niada, and Jay had all been just like them when they had first attended the academy, but now, since they were older, they all acted more mature, but they still played practical jokes on everyone, particularly Mwu, Hugh, and Frank.

Frank took a sip from his bottle and said, "So how'd your guys make out?"

"Eh, we did alright. Got a bunch of stuff on there like the mobile suits and stuff like that." Mwu replied.

"Courtesy of Ensign Yamato," Frank asked.

"Who else?" Mwu said. The only real design they had put on their airplane was a drawing of the Strike which Kira himself had drawn. Other than that, they had just put slogans on the bombs they had loaded into the planes like, "BUST", "HELLO BOYS", and "BYE BYE CUBA". Mwu hadn't been really specific about designs, and none of his crew really wanted anything flashy for their plane, so that was what they had decided on, and the five of them were all happy with it.

"Makes us seem old doesn't it, Mwu..." Frank said glumly. Mwu had to agree. Compared to some of the men in the squadron, they were old. Both were nearing thirty and they weren't as energetic as some of the others like Jake and Donnie.

"Yeah..." he responded. "Gotta be worse for you, considering you're older than me-."

"And you're older than the rest of us, Mwu," The female voice had come from behind the two of them. They both turned around to face the voice's occupant and both grinned.

"Must you always point that out, sis?" Frank said as Murrue approached both of them. Mwu noted that this was her time to be off duty and Lieutenant Badgiruel should now be serving as the ship's commanding officer. Frank moved over a seat to his right, inclining for Murrue to take the seat he had vacated. She did so, smoothing her skirt so that she would be comfortable enough and reclined her arms on the bar. The bartender took her order for a mineral water and disappeared behind the bar.

"Mineral water?" Frank asked.

"The Captain can't be seen drinking alcohol while the ship is in combat, Frank," Murrue replied as the bartender returned with her drink.

"Especially with Lieutenant Badgiruel on board," Mwu added with a smirk.

Murrue looked over at him and responded, "Will you get off of her for a minute. She's not as bad as she was Mwu. She's just trying to do her job the best way she knows how."

Mwu's expression softened. "Yeah, I'm sorry. Guess I'm just not used to her being tolerant of people."

"You should be," Murrue responded, taking a drink from her glass. "So, how was everything this afternoon?"

"Oh, just perfect," Frank responded sarcastically.

"You mean Alexander?" Murrue said.

Frank appeared startled. "Huh...how'd you know about that?"

"I have my sources on the ship. I'm the Captain remember, brother." Murrue smiled at the end of her statement. She had been told of Private Alexander's little design on the plane, but when she heard that Frank had ordered him to remove it, she decided to let it go, much to Natarle's dismay. Murrue really couldn't blame the woman for wanting to punish Alexander for sexual harassment, but since it had been appropriately handled in turn, they had both agreed to let it pass.

"What did the Council have to say about the mission?" Mwu asked, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

"Just that we get the job done right," Murrue responded. "Sutherland's still a jerk in my book and whoever that Azrael guy is, he's just as bad."

"Azrael...?" Mwu wondered out loud. Turning to Murrue, he said, "Murata Azrael?"

"Yes, that's him," Murrue answered, looking back at him. "Why? Do you know him?"

"Know him," Frank cut in, taking another sip from his beer, "Heh, he was our classmate at the academy."

"Really...?" Murrue said in disbelief. As far as she knew, no one on the Council was taught to be a pilot, much less at the Sheldon Academy. "Was he good?"

Mwu chuckled. "No...I mean the three of us, me, Frank, and Hugh flamed his ass every time we went in simulator and he bombed almost every test."

"That guy wouldn't shut his damn mouth, no matter what the situation was," Frank said. "He even got on John's nerves. Practically threw him out of the academy because of his loud mouth."

"John said the only reason he was even at the academy in the first place was because he paid his way in." Mwu remarked.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Murrue commented slyly. She had only known Murata Azrael as the provisional leader of the radical group Blue Cosmos, who were against the existence of all Coordinators. He had influence with the Council, as she had learned through Intelligence sources, but other than that, he wasn't officially involved with any decision making. That he once trained as a pilot, was a complete surprise to her. "Anyone else famous who went there alongside you two hot-shots?"

"Hot-shots?" they both asked, questioningly.

"Playing chicken with a pair of skygraspers...hmmm?" she commented with a cocky grin.

"John told you about that?" Mwu said, incredulously.

"Hey, that wasn't me, that was all him and Hugh. I just stood on the ground while they played smash-and-grab with the jets."

Murrue could only laugh at that. Yes, Colonel Namora had lamented somewhat on the experiences he'd had teaching the three of them at the academy. Whether it was Mwu and Hugh playing chicken with skygraspers, or Frank pulling an upside-down, outside loop in a mobile armor, John had said they were the best pilots he'd ever had the privilege of teaching, much less flying with.

"Anyway," Mwu said, "Yeah, other than stupid-ass Azrael, the only other one who I can say actually went somewhere afterwards was Lew Halberton."

"Lewis, went there!?" Murrue gasped. Lewis had never told her that he had learned from Colonel Namora. He hadn't even mentioned he knew how to pilot combat aircraft.

"Yep, old Smooth Lew," Frank laughed, taking another drink.

"You know he hated that nickname," Murrue said dryly. Halberton had always resented that nickname because it was the name he was constantly called, even after he repeatedly ordered people not to. "He really went there?"

"Mm-hmm." Frank muttered. "Two years ahead of us."

"Did you talk to him?" Murrue asked, wanting to know more about her deceased lover.

"Occasionally...," Mwu said, before tapering off.

"Not really after someone called him Smooth Lew for the first time," Frank remarked, casting a casual glance over at his friend, who had been in the middle of guzzling his beer down. When Mwu caught his and Murrue's glances, he immediately dropped his bottle, and wiped off his mouth.

"I did not call him that, Frank!" Mwu snapped.

"Really, then," Frank pushed on. "What really did you say to him."

"O.K., O.K." Mwu answered, putting up his hands in self-defense. "Second day we're there. We're in the hangars, looking at the planes the upper-classmen are supposed to be training on. Halberton's working on his plane. We go by, and I don't know what he did, but he screwed something up and something else broke because off of it. And I said...real smooth Lew...I didn't call him Smooth Lew, I said, real smooth Lew, alright!?"

Murrue smiled and giggled to herself. "That must have been why he wasn't so happy to see you when he came aboard a while back."

Upon hearing this, Frank broke out into uncontrolled laughter, holding his head to keep it from practically falling off. Mwu just cringed to himself, trying to make himself look smaller. Murrue saw him hunched over, and put her arms around him. "It's alright, Mwu. We don't mean it."

Mwu just smiled. "Yeah, I know. Just kinda makes me feel more unwanted than I already am."

Murrue released her hold on him, and went over to her brother. "Well...it's getting late," she stretched her arms out over her head and yawned quietly. "I think I'd better turn in."

"Yeah, you're right," Frank agreed. "It's probably time for us to head in too. After all, we need our beauty sleep for the pictures tomorrow. Means you gotta dress up Mwu..." he said mockingly.

"Ha-ha-ha. Real funny Frank. You gotta dress up too remember?" Mwu pointed out.

"Hey at least I don't cringe every time I see a damn flash-bulb go off in front of me," Frank shot back. Murrue was already at the doorway when those words escaped her brothers mouth. This time, she couldn't stop herself, and she laughed all the way back to her quarters.

-Archangel, July 8, C.E. 71, 1100.

Mwu was thankful it was finally over. It had been nearly two hours since they had all appeared down in the hangar, ready for the pictures that were eventually going to be sent out to all major media centers, once the mission was complete of course. Everyone who was involved in this mission had been involved in the mammoth propaganda project. Even Murrue and Natarle were forced to wait out and have their photos taken as Captain and First Mate of the vessel that transported the "Cuban Raiders" as the squadron had been appropriately named.

Mwu had been one of the first to have his picture taken, since he was technically flying the number 2 bomber in the group. He had stood patiently...or somewhat patiently, next to Kira, his co-pilot, while Sai, Tim, and Leo all kneeled down in front of them, their airplane situated in the background in all its glory. John's group had gone first, as the number 1 bomber, and Athrun and Dearka's crew went next as number 3. Hugh's plane was number 5, the Barrington twins' was number 9, and Frank and Jake's was lucky number 13.

Finally, the number 16 bomber crew had their pictures taken, and everyone was ready to get on with their day, and put this dismal morning behind them. Mwu walked over to his commander and asked if they could finally go and change out of their dress uniforms.

"Yeah, we're pretty much done here anyway, so go ahead," John said casually. Mwu pumped his fist as he turned and headed for the hangar's exit. But before he got more than three feet, he heard another voice shout out.

"Wait, wait! We still have to get one of the officers," Mwu sagged on his knees and moaned heavily at the news that he would have to endure another one. He looked back at John, who was grinning. "Then again..." he said slyly. He headed out toward the middle of the hangar where the photographer was stationed with Mwu following behind him.

By the time they reached the location, all the others were there, meaning Murrue, Natarle, Hugh, Frank, and Sergeant Richards. Three chairs had been set up in the middle of the set. The photographer motioned for John to sit in the middle one, which he objected to strongly, before he finally took a seat, with Murrue to his left and Natarle to his right. The other four men took their places standing behind the three of them, but as Mwu stopped on the end behind Natarle, Hugh grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him into the middle.

"Oh, no," Mwu said stubbornly, pushing back towards the end, "I'm not standing in the middle Hugh."

"I'm the tallest," Hugh shot back, "I've got to stand on the end,"

"Then stand on that end, Frank's not gonna care,"

"I like this end," Hugh answered.

"No," Mwu said, "I"m not standing in the middle." With that, he moved out of Hugh's hold and stood on the left of his friend. Before he could get comfortable however, Hugh grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back into the center.

"You are senior," Hugh commented. "You, stand in the middle,"

Mwu looked back with a shocked glance. "Since when am I senior to you?"

"You got promoted a day before I did," Hugh answered, "You are senior,"

"I am not,"

"Are too,"

"Am not,"

"Are too,"

"Am –."

"Will you guys knock it off already!" John shouted from his spot. "Just stand still for a second so we can get this over with,"

From her chair, Natarle looked over at Murrue, who as she could see was barely holding back laughing. Natarle had to admit to herself, it was kind of hard not to laugh. They make the two of us look like mature adults, she thought happily to herself.

Mwu finally accepted his place in the middle with Hugh standing to his left. The photographer took several more minutes trying to get the proper focus on his camera, or having the seven officers rotate themselves so as to get the best shot for each of them. Then, just when he had said that he was ready, he said "Wait, wait, wait, I've got to recheck focus and-."

"Oh...will you just shut your mouth and take the stupid picture already?!" That was John.

The shocked look on the photographers face reflected everyone else's mind expression. Without further delay, he snapped the portrait, and ran off, taking his equipment with him.

When he was gone, John stood up and turned back to his men. Frank was still standing with a serious expression on his face, determined to look professional. "O.K. you can laugh now, Frank."

As soon as those words escaped John's mouth, Frank erupted into a barrage of laughter, hands covering his mouth and fumbling over his own feet. Natarle felt herself smirk at the sight of the supposedly, "coolest" of the squadron's officers, break out into uncontrolled laughter. She then realized that she was staring and broke it off, turning instead to John, who was looking at Frank also. He then turned his attention to Natarle and smiled. "Don't you just love my job..." That was all that needed to be said.