-Archangel, July 12, C.E. 71, 0800.

"It's hard to believe it I know, but Martin is starting school next month. He sends his thanks for everything you've given to him this year, even when you've been gone." The image of the woman smiled happily. "We miss you, honey. Please come back safe. I love you." Her image faded away and once again, Hugh Swanson was alone.

The encrypted transmission was several weeks old but he had played it so many times already, that it still felt like he'd gotten it yesterday. In the six days since they'd left Nova Scotia, the squadron had been running themselves ragged working on the planes and themselves, making sure they would hold up against the tremendous task they had been assigned. Based on the intelligence the group had received, Cuba had thirty heavy anti-aircraft installations around the base, but John wasn't worried, mainly because he believed the tail-gunners would be able to pick them off before they did any real damage.

Hugh meanwhile, had been busy in his own right. Aside from having to lead the men in calisthenic exercises every morning for an hour and a half, he'd been working with Dearka for two hours a day on his sword techniques. Dearka had shown rapid improvement in the five days they'd been working together, and now Hugh believed Dearka was ready for the real thing.

Just then, there was a knock on the door of his quarters. "Come in," he said, standing up from his chair and shutting down the projector. The door slid open and Dearka walked in, still wearing the same face he always wore whenever he came to practice with Hugh; serious, eyes trained forward, just like Hugh had taught him.

"Morning, kid," Hugh said. "See you've been working on your eyesight."

"Been staring at random stuff since we started. People are starting to look at me like I'm crazy, but, eh...I'm gonna go with it." Dearka responded.

"Well, good," Hugh commented. He folded his arms and walked up to face the young man in front of him. "Kid, this is our last day for practicing. Tomorrow we won't be able to since we're scheduled to launch tomorrow afternoon and I've still got a lot of work to do."

"I, understand, sir," Dearka said, disappointment in his voice. Hugh could tell because Dearka had shown as much enthusiasm as Hugh had when he'd first learned how to fight with a sword.

"I'm glad. That's why we're not using the cardboard today," Hugh remarked, turning around to his closet.

"Why not, Commander?" Dearka asked, puzzled. "I thought I was getting better,"

"You are," Hugh responded, taking out a long, brown case from his closet. He'd had them delivered to Sheldon when he had first arrived, just so he'd have something to be remembered by in case he didn't return. He set the case down on his bed and opened the latches. When Dearka stared into the case, to see what it carried, the light reflected off of the shining surfaces made his eyes shut.

Hugh pulled out one of the gleaming, metallic swords and tossed it over to Dearka who caught it unsteadily in both hands, making sure not to touch the blade which he noticed had been sharpened severely. "They let you bring these on board?" Dearka asked, still in a state of shock.

"We're in the middle of a war, Elsman," Hugh said, taking up his own sword, wiping off the gleaming surface with a rag. "On a warship like this, they really don't give a shit what the hell kinda weapon you bring on board, just that they know that you've got 'em."

Hugh turned to face Dearka, eyes trained directly at his opponent, his right hand firmly gripping the handle of his weapon, feet firmly planted on the bulkhead. Dearka also proceeded to take these measures and soon, both men were staring at each other with determined eyes, each one confident they could win this final match, even though it was basically still training.

"Ready, kid?" Hugh said.

"You know it, old man," Dearka replied, mockingly.

"Oh...," Hugh remarked, "so now you're mister bad-ass are you?" With lightning speed, Hugh swung a right strike aimed at Dearka's shoulder, but Dearka easily blocked it with a swift side parry, just as Hugh had done five days earlier. Hugh tried an overhead strike, but Dearka raised his sword horizontally, catching the blade about four inches above his head. Hugh pulled back and got his feet set again. He smiled to himself. Kid hasn't taken his eyes off me yet...he's learned well...but not well enough...Hugh swung around to his left trying to take out Dearka's legs, but Dearka backed up steadily blocking and deflecting all of Hugh's attempted shots. When Hugh's attack ceased, both men were winded, but not tired.

"Not bad, Elsman," Hugh commented. "You're parry's have really improved." After receiving no reply, Hugh took that as the opportunity to move to the next test. "But how's your footwork?" Moving his right leg directly behind his right, Hugh murmured as he moved. "First I step...then you follow...very nice..." Dearka had moved just as gracefully as Hugh had and both fighters were ready to resume.

This time, Dearka went on the offensive, attempting several short strikes to test Hugh's resolve, then going with a full strike which drove Hugh backwards toward the wall, even though the taller man managed to parry every strike Dearka turned on him. Then the younger man cut low, taking Hugh's legs out from under him, but Hugh did a somersault in mid-air and landed securely on the floor, blocking a close shot from Dearka's blade.

Hugh's eyes caught Dearka's and the older man grinned, charging at Dearka with break-neck speed. Dearka was caught off guard but still managed to fend off the ferocious assault. Once again, Dearka attempted to cut low on Hugh, but amazingly, Hugh did a cork-screw roll in mid-air, rising above the blade before contact could be made. When Hugh landed back on his feet, a shocked expression was all he could see from Dearka.

"You liked that didn't ya?" Hugh said mockingly, charging at Dearka once again, this time managing to disarm the younger man and knocking him onto the bulkhead. Hugh stood above Dearka an intense expression set on his face, but then he smiled and extended a hand helping Dearka to his feet.

"Not bad, Elsman, not bad at all."

"Thank you Commander," Dearka said uneasily, "but did you have to be so rough on me. I mean I've only been working on this for a week."

"It's how you learn kid," Hugh replied, hoisting his sword over his shoulder into the case again.

"Commander, here," Dearka said handing Hugh his blade back.

Hugh shrugged his hand and replied. "Keep it kid, you've earned it."

Dearka just smiled, amazed, "Really...you mean it!?"

"Do I look like I'm lying kid?" Hugh replied with a smirk. "Now go back and get ready, we've got a heavy day ahead of ourselves tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Dearka said as he turned toward the door. "And commander..." Hugh turned around to see what Dearka wanted. "Thanks..." With that, Dearka left the quarters, leaving Hugh alone again. That kid's probably what we need to end the war...endless determination...raw courage...and a great heart... He sat back down at his desk, and played the message from his wife once again.

-Archangel, 1800.

Archangel moved silently through the water at moderate speed, barely caressing the waters of the Atlantic as she plunged southward. Now, she was only about a little less than a day away from the launch point. There, she would once again enter the history books, as the ship that ferried the Cuban Raiders on their heroic mission.

Arnold Neumann sat at his counsel, monitoring the ship's status as she trundled through the dark waters. He was nearing the end of his shift on the bridge, and was looking forward to finally getting his dinner from the mess hall in about half an hour. His fellow crewman Joseph Crew sat next to him, silent as usual. Arnold was the only person the man would really talk to aboard the ship, and nobody really knew why, not even Arnold. The other man's dark eyes were trained directly out the viewport, at the endless stream of water before them. The sun was just now entering its final phases of the day, ready to set in just about two hours time. Brilliant reflections of orange and yellow mixed with the dark blues of the ocean making the scene before them appear right out of a masterpiece sitting in a museum somewhere around the world. In the times of war, it was hard for anyone to find a calm moment such as this, especially on this ship at this time.

"Chief Neumann..." Arnold heard the voice from behind him and recognized it immediately.

"Commander la Flaga," he said, turning in his chair to see the officer standing behind him, marching down the bridge's small staircase to set his feet on the level which Neumann and Crew worked. A mug was clenched tightly in his right hand, steam spewing out of the top, signifying that it had just been made.

"Any trouble up here?" Mwu asked as he moved to stand next to Neumann's counsel.

"Nothing as of yet," Neumann replied. "We're just about in line with the North Carolina barrier islands, so we'll be getting into more troubling waters soon." In the five days the ship had been moving southward toward the launch point, the nearest ship that had been detected was a good 500 miles away, so there had been no battle stations sounded since the bombers had been loaded in Nova Scotia. "You think we'll be able to make it to the launch point without someone finding us?"

"Why do you ask?" Mwu wondered, taking a sip from his mug.

"I mean, we're heading into ZAFT waters as we speak, so there's a good chance that someone will notice us..." Neumann was unsure of how to finish because Mwu just grinned.

"You think they're actually going to find us, Arnie?" Mwu chuckled. "The ship's running on half it's combat speed so they can't find us with heat detectors, and their own N-Jammers prevent them from using radar within their waters, so what's to worry about?"

"I was referring to the chance that one of their surface ships would stumble upon us on patrol," Neumann replied turning back to his counsel and punching in a few commands. A map appeared on his counsel with the Archangel's projected course and speed. "The further south we head," Neumann began, "the more likely a ZAFT patrol ship will be in the vicinity. The launch point is set right along the major routes from Cuba to Greenland."

"Greenland's just an outpost, Arnie," Mwu corrected.

"Be that as it may, it still presents a bigger danger to the ship and your planes. What happens if we are sighted before we get to the launch point?" Neumann asked, shutting his counsel down and turning back to Mwu.

Mwu thought about it for a few moments, taking another sip from his drink in the process, and then stated calmly, "I really don't know...that's John's call nonetheless, so we'll just have to see...anyways it doesn't really matter. It's still unlikely that they'll find us before we launch."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Arnold conceded. Mwu's glance moved to the other man present on the bridge.

"Does he ever say anything?" he asked. Neumann turned his chair and trained his vision on Joseph, who was still staring straight ahead, his hands firmly gripped on the ship's helm.

"He does occasionally, but not very often." Neumann turned back around to Mwu. "He's basically the silent and shy type. The only times he actually talks is when no one else is around." Then softly he added, "I think he's afraid of some of the people on board here."

Mwu conceded that Arnold had a point. A man like Joseph, coming onto a ship that's famous worldwide for evading the le Creuset team and virtually every ZAFT force from Africa to Alaska, and being a silent person who would probably like just being alone, would have a hard time here. But Joseph really didn't have any choice, because in war, you just did what you were told, and did it to the best of your abilities.

Mwu glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost 1630. He had made himself a promise that he would get to sleep early tonight, and set his alarm of course, so that he would get as much sleep as possible in order to be well rested for his big day tomorrow. The success or failure of the mission rested on his and the seventy-nine others in the squadron, and he also knew that this could be a turning point in the war, and possibly help end it.

A yawn escaped from Mwu's mouth and Arnold smiled. "Time to slack off Commander? You guys have got a big day ahead."

"Yeah, I know," just then, Mwu remembered something. "Arnie..." Neumann turned his chair to face his superior officer. "Listen..." Mwu said quietly. "If we don't make it back, would you give this to the Captain...?" He held out a small object, a flat device wrapped in cardboard paper. It didn't look like very much, but it was the object inside of the wrapping that Mwu and Frank had spent much time working on in their time off duty.

"Sure, Commander..." Neumann said, taking hold of the small object. "But what exactly is it...?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out, Chief," Mwu said with a grin. "See you tomorrow." With that, Mwu turned on his heel and marched out of the bridge. Neumann held the small object in his hand, it wasn't much bigger than his palm, and it was only about an inch thick. A small chuckle startled Arnold out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Joseph with a smile on his face.

"What's so funny Joseph?" Neumann asked.

"You didn't see the look on his face when he handed that to you?" Joseph said, his smile sticking on his face. Neumann had never seen the other man smile before, and frankly, he never believed he actually could with the way he was. "Looks like the Commander's got a thing for the Captain."

"Are you serious?" Neumann remarked. "I mean, it's not entirely impossible, but still...how would you know anyway?"

"I'm married aren't I?" Joseph said, flashing the ring that rested on his finger.

With that said, Joseph's facial expression went back to its usual serious look, and he once again concentrated on steering the ship. Neumann shut his counsel down and turned to leave the bridge. His stomach growled with hunger because it had been a good eight hours since he'd last eaten. He tucked the small package into his jacket's pocket and descended in the elevator back through the ship's interior.

-ZAFT Cuba Base, 1900.

Yzak Joule could hardly believe this was happening. After the failure of Operation Spit-Break at Alaska, Athrun had gone missing. Now that left just him as the sole remaining member of the le Creuset team still in active combat. His X-102 Duel Gundam was operational once again and he had flown it for the first time since it had been given a massive overhaul after it was heavily damaged following the Battle of Alaska. Yzak was grateful to be alive and had thanked the DINN pilot that saved him well.

Now, he piloted his repaired mobile suit into the main hangar of the Cuban Base. Yzak had been here once before, when the ill-fated Spit-Break had been ready to begin. He had remained here to await transport to Alaska, while Athrun had gone into space to receive his new mobile suit. Nothing had been heard about him since, but Yzak had a sneaking suspicion that something wasn't all right here.

His radio chirped as a voice from the command center called out to him. "X-102 Duel, use hangar B-12, Lieutenant Joule,"

"Roger, that," Yzak replied as he shut off his thrusters and prepped his unit for landing. The landing engines in the suits legs engaged and he landed in the hangar with a soft thud. He shut off the Duel's power and activated the lock he had installed on the operating system. Can't be too careful...Yzak thought, though the idea of spies infiltrating Cuba was ridiculous.

As he unstrapped his restraints and pulled off his helmet, he saw Commander le Creuset's CGUE land in the hangar directly opposite from him. The mobile suit served as his commander's personal transport unit, and the two had journeyed here from Africa, and Yzak still didn't understand why. He rode the lift down from his mobile suit's cockpit and sprinted across the hangar floor toward the awaiting CGUE. He reached the mobile suit and pulled his gloves off stuffing them into his flight suit's pocket and saw Commander le Creuset step out of his cockpit.

The other person who accompanied him out of the mobile suit's cockpit absolutely infuriated Yzak. The girl was not much younger than he was, but she was so naive that Yzak had no clue why the commander insisted on having her accompany him everywhere. Her long red hair was pulled back into a sharp pony-tail and her eyes were so large that they could be granted certification as a lake, Yzak thought happily to himself. His Commander's long blond hair rippled in the wind as he strolled toward where Yzak awaited. Yzak saluted his commander, who saluted in return and said, "Yzak, I know you don't think this is necessary but-,"

"Commander!" Yzak snarled, "What exactly are we doing here? Why did you drag me all the way across the planet just to come to this place?"

"Yzak," Rau said sternly, "You know you're my best pilot and I can't go on a mission without someone there to act as an escort. That's why you're here."

"So," Yzak replied harshly, "I'm just your bodyguard while you parade around and pump up everyone here."

"Basically yes," Rau responded, "And to take care of Ms. Allster of course,"

"Yes, sir," Yzak hissed. The girl who stood behind his commander had been the daughter of a former Earth Alliance Minister, who had been killed at the hands of le Creuset's ships, and her anti-coordinator hatred vented from her even when she was in Rau's presence. Yzak still couldn't understand why the commander didn't treat her like an ordinary prisoner, since he had captured her during Spit-Break. She was just a nuisance as far as he was concerned.

"Good, now, if you'll listen Lieutenant," Rau began again, "We'll only have to be here for three days at the most, in order for me to report back to Commander in Chief Zala that everything's running smoothly for his plans."

"What plans, sir?" Yzak asked questioningly.

"You'll find out soon enough Yzak," Rau coerced, "With any luck we'll be out of here before then, so I suggest you get some rest while you still can. Ms. Allster will accompany me to my quarters, won't you dearest?"

"Yes, Rau," Flay replied, her eyes still wide as ever.

"Goodnight Yzak," Rau said as he strolled off into the darkness of the hangar complex. Yzak walked back toward his own mobile suit and rode the lift up to the suit's head. He laid down on the heavy steel and stared up at the night sky. There wasn't a cloud in the sky this night, and Yzak had always been fascinated by the spectacle of the stars at night. His hands were placed behind his head and he stared dreamily up into the sky, wondering what his mother Ezalia Joule was thinking about right now. How he wanted to be back there, just to see her again, the only real family he had left...I miss you mom...now more than ever...