-Earth Forces HQ, New York, July 13, C.E. 71, 1000.
"So, the comissioning of the new warships has been set for four days from now at two that afternoon, Admiral." Azrael spoke to Admiral Sutherland over the channel in his office. "I trust that the rest of you will be able to attend."
"Everybody except General Bradford I'm afraid sir," Sutherland replied grimly. "He's still not back yet from Panama."
"You're planning to hand Valiant back over to him when he returns are you not?" Azrael inquired.
"Yes, Mr. Azrael. If the Council and yourself approve of it I'm going to make the Dominion the flagship of the 7th Fleet once she's comissioned sir." Dominion had been secretly under construction in Panama for nearly three months and was finally ready to be put into combat. A replica of her sister ship, the Archangel, the only real difference between the two was the paint scheme, and the officers on board of couse. Whoever Azrael put in charge on Dominion was sure to be more competant than that woman who commanded the Archangel. "Sir, I also would suggest that this would be the appropriate time to display our new aircraft."
Azrael pondered on that suggestion. The Atlantic Federation had produced three prototype bombers, they called K-types. They were magnificent flyers with great speed and incredible maneuverability for plane's their size. Now would be the perfect time to unveil them. "That's fine with the rest of us Admiral, just so long as-," Before he could finish, his phone chimed with an arriving call. "If you'll excuse me Admiral, I must take this call."
"Yes, Mr. Azrael, I'll speak to you later." With that, Sutherland's image disappeared and Azrael pressed a button on the phone that put the person's voice through the speaker without Azrael having to pick up the adjoining receiver.
"Sir, it's me."
Azrael's eyes widened. That was the voice of the inside man in Colonel Namora's squadron. The person he'd instructed to make sure that none of the squadron made it back alive. Why would he be calling now?
Leaning down to speak into the phone, Azrael said, "Yes...what is it?"
"Namora just launched with the rest of his squadron..." the pause indicated that the man was afraid of what Azrael would say next. When Azrael didn't reply, the man took this as a sign to continue. "A ZAFT ship spotted Archangel 222 miles before the launch point. Namora had the ship stop and he launched from there."
"Of couse..." Azrael grimmaced. "Namora would never risk that ship for himself."
"I know sir," the man answered, "But those planes will never have enough gas to make it to Colombia anyway. Also sir, this gave me the opportunity to modify the planes even further."
"What do you mean?" Azrael questioned.
"I said the tail-guns made the planes too heavy to get off the deck. None of them are flying with a single one..."
Azrael felt a smile break out across his face. Now those fools will finally be out of my way! Slight laughter escaped from Azrael's expression as his smile grew.
"Excellent work," he commented. "The Archangel will have to wait. Right now, as soon as you get to Bermuda, get back here at once. I may have a new mission for you."
"Yes, sir," the man replied and with that, the phone went dead. Now, Azrael didn't stop himself and laughed maniacally as though no one were around to hear him. Nothing will stop me now!
-ZAFT Cuban Base, July 13, C.E. 71, 1100.
Rau le Creuset stood in the main control room of the Cuba base. He was waiting for the base's commander to finish running a check on the base's systems. He casually tugged at the mask that covered his eyes making sure that it stayed in place. As far as he was concerned, anyone who saw him without his mask was as good as dead. With the exception of Ms. Allster of couse. The girl stood behind him in the green ZAFT uniform Rau had given to her. After capturing her during the failed Operation Spit-Break, Rau had taken her as his assistant, much to the chagrine of Yzak and other officials who wanted nothing to do with a Natural. Rau smiled to himself. It won't matter for much longer...soon there will be no hostilities or arguments...just the way I want it...
Then, something tugged at the back of Rau's brain. It was a feeling he only felt when he was near. It nagged at him, telling him that he was close, and then as the intensity of the feeling grew, he knew he was getting closer.
Walking briskly over to where the sonar station was, Rau placed a hand on the man's chair and asked, "Sonar, scan the area of the base. Tell me if there's anything unusual around."
The man punched in commands on his counsel and numbers appeared followed by a detailed map of the surrounding area within a thirty mile radius. ZAFT forces blips appeared blue against the green background with red blips used to represent enemies. Right now, there were only blue spots and no sign of red ones.
"Nothing unusual is going on sir," the man answered, "Everything's running normal."
"Are you sure?" Rau pushed on, the feeling growing stronger.
"Yes, sir," the man continued, removing his gloves from his hands, "Sonar's not reporting anything unusual so it's safe to say we're safe now."
"Safe? Are you positive?" Rau reprimanded. "The N-Jammers make it so we can't see anything above 5,000 feet and our radar installations are useless. Anything could get through from high up, and we wouldn't see it until they were right on top of us!"
"But, sir-."
Rau clutched his head as the feeling grew painful in his mind. You're close...I know you're near... He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Flay behind him with a concerned look on her face. "Mr. le Creuset," she asked, "are you alright?"
Managing a small smile, Rau said, "Yes, I'm fine." Turning back to the man at the sonar station, he added, "Keep a close watch on surveillence of the area. Notify me in case anything suspicious comes up."
"Yes, sir," the man replied, sounding as if Rau was crazy. The pain in his head was still growing as Rau exited the command center, heading back toward the main hangars, Flay walking close behind. Finding an intercom, Rau paged the barracks, where he knew Yzak was staying. But instead of Yzak, he was greated by a female voice.
"Is Lieutenant Joule present?" Rau asked.
"I'm sorry Commander," the voice said, "he left early this morning. I have no idea where he went."
"Thank you," Rau answered as he closed off the intercom. Yzak was probably off working on his mobile suit as it was, so Rau would just have to wait on his own. "Flay, I'm heading out to the hangar, please wait here."
A scared look came across Flay's beautiful face. "What's wrong? Is something bad happening."
"I don't know," Rau replied, the pain still increasing, "I don't know..."
-Somewhere over the Atlantic, July 13, C.E. 71, 1115.
The J-bombers treaded through the mild clouds at 10,000 feet, churning their way toward Cuba. The planes flew in packs of four, in a V-formation running about five hundred feet apart from the others formations. Inside the lead bomber in the rear-most formation, Frank's mind was calm and collected. His side window was opened to give him a fair view of his surroundings, the wind blowing at his face. He knew what his mission was, and what he needed to do to accomplish it. He ran the specs over and over again in his head. We stay at ten thousand until five miles out...then we descend to our bombing altitude just over land...we drop our payloads and get the hell out of there as quickly as possible...then we just hope we've got enough gas left to make it to Colombia...we land there...meet up with the rebels...get on a plane, and head back home...Frank just wish it were only that simple.
A whistle jarred Frank out of his thoughts. It came from the man sitting next to him and Frank turned to see what had caused it. Jake was sitting with his legs up on the control board, a magazine opened in front of him. Frank rolled his eyes when he realized Jake was reading a swimsuit magazine. "Are you gonna read that all the way there?" Frank asked, annoyed.
"Hey, give me a break will ya?" Jake shot back, "I need something to take my mind off of this. Besides...I only read it for the articles."
Frank tried to concentrate on his flying, but Jake's constant outbursts were getting really disturbing. Finally, Frank had had enough. Reaching over, he grabbed Jake's magazine and chucked it over his shoulder and out his open window. "Hey!" Jake shouted. "I was readin' that!"
Turning to his co-pilot with a pissed off look on his face, Frank responded, "Concentrate on your flying Jake. You don't need that shit right now."
Groaning slightly, Jake took his legs off of the control board and grasped his pilot stick in his hands. Almost as a mumble, he added "What got shoved up your ass?"
Meanwhile, up in the front V-formation, Mwu was likewise trying to keep concentrating on his flying, but somehow kept drifting off into sleep, only to have Kira casually wake him up after about five minutes. This scenery wasn't very glamorous, just ocean for all his eyes could see. Sure, the sky was virtually clear, with only a few stray clouds coming up to them, but it still wasn't very challenging, and almost as an after thought, that was what Mwu had been hoping for.
He had just drifted off again when something happened. All of a sudden, something tugged at his mind. At first, he shrugged it off, not realizing what it was. Then, when it happened again seconds later, his eyes shot open at the realization of what it was. Rau... he thought, sourly.
Mwu tried to keep calm, but the feeling kept growing the further they flew. It became painful after a while, and Mwu cluthced his head slightly, unaware of what was going on in the cockpit. Seeing what his co-pilot was doing, Kira looked over, concerned. "Mwu, you alright?"
"Ugh...yeah...I'm fine Kira," Mwu reassured, still clutching his head. "Unhh...how much farther Tim?"
"Umm..." Tim said, looking at his board, "Doesn't look like much farther Commander."
"Great..." Mwu thought. Here he was, about to embark on the most critical mission of his life, and he found himself trying futily to dull a pain inside his head that he knew wasn't going to go away. As it got worse, Mwu realized with horror that Rau must actually be at the Cuba Base. He thought worriedly to himself, I'm endangering the mission...I shouldn't have come...
After a few more minutes had passed, the clouds slowly began to break, and Kira noticed something. It wasn't very big, but it stood out against the endless seam of water below. It was green, or more or less gray. It could only be one thing. "Mwu, I see land!"
Mwu looked ahead and saw it too. Up in the lead bomber, John set his eyes on the growing land mass ahead of them. "That's Cuba right there boys!" Speaking into the plane's intercom, he commanded, "Gunners! Man your guns! Everybody else, tighten up your restraints! We begin descent at once!" He turned off the intercom and looked over at Mike, who still looked rather nervous. "You set Mike?"
"I guess so sir..." he said unsurely.
"Great, let's do it then." Taking hold of his pilot's stick, John said, "Commence descent!"
Slowly, the bomber began to lose altitude as it sank lower into the air. It was a level drop that let the plane continue moving south toward Cuba, which was growing in the front viewports. Every plane behind John began descending as well, leaving the clouds above them, heading for their targets.
-Archangel, July 13, C.E. 71, 1120.
Once all the planes had veered off to the south, the Archangel had turned around and headed back north toward Bermuda. Not much had been said on the bridge, and frankly, nothing needed to be said. Everyone just sat there, listening over the radio to the squadron's chatter. John had given the squadron's frequency to the Archangel and Murrue had had it routed into the bridge's comm system. Now, everyone just sat still and listened intently on what was going on.
Radar showed that the planes were within 5 miles of the Cuban coast and had now begun their descent. Since they were far enough away, the N-Jammer's didn't affect the Archangel's radar systems from where they were. This would be the most harrowing portion of the raid. Whether or not they could get over land without being immediately detected. If they were found, the mobile suits on the island would mobilize and destroy every single one.
Miriallia sat at her counsel, silently hoping that Kira, Athrun, Sai, and Dearka would all make it out alive. She had known Kira and Sai for years, and while she had only known Athrun and Dearka for a few months, she still regarded them as good friends, despite the fact they had once fought against her. Natarle sat straight in her chair, listening closely to the squadron's frequency. The signal was being relayed through Petty Officer Chandra's station, and she had to make sure he got everything through so the plane's progress would be given to the Archangel. Neumann sat with a head-set over his ears, not bothering to listen to the open channel, but just with his own private channel. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to give the Captain the package Mwu had given to him the night before, in case he and the Captain's brother didn't return.
Sitting in her own chair, deep in her own thoughts, Murrue silently prayed for each person in the squadron's safety, though in the back of her mind, she knew some of them weren't going to make it back. If the Earth Forces continued to have men like them volunteer for the fighting, the war just might end sooner than later. Murrue went back into her mind, reliving all the fantastic moments she had shared with her brother Frank when they were children, especially during the times when it had been just them and their father. As for their mother...Murrue's thoughts didn't go that far. Just come out of this safe Frank...and everyone else too...I can't bear to have any of them lose their lives...especially you Mwu...I can't stand to lose you again...
"We're in the enemy's backyard!" The sound of Colonel Namora's voice rang throughout the bridge, jarring everyone back into reality.
As soon as that statement escaped the intercom, static enveloped the signal. "N-Jammers..." Chandra said somberly, knowing full well that for the next ten or so minutes, they would not be able to communicate with the squadron when it was over Cuba.
"Keep tracking them," Natarle commanded quietly. The monitors with each plane's status was also down because of the N-Jammers, so they wouldn't know until they were out of Cuba, who had survived and who had sacrificed themselves for the good of the cause. Now it was up to luck and the skill of the pilots and crews.
-ZAFT Cuba Base, 1125.
Rau sat in his CGUE inside Cuba Base's main hangar complex. Yzak was still nowhere to be found, but Rau really hadn't tried to search for him, since the feeling inside his head had grown stronger still in just the past few minutes. I know you're out there Mwu...just what do you think you're doing...?
Suddenly, Rau's radio erupted with noise, signaling that he was being hailed from the control room. Activating the link, Rau asked, "Yes, what is it?"
"Sir!" Rau recognized the voice as the sonar officer he had spoken with minutes earlier. "We have enemies approaching fast!"
Rau was dumbfounded. Enemies...here? "What's their I.D.? Where are they now?"
The reply shook Rau to his core. "They're right on top of us!"
-Air Space over Cuba, 1125.
A rush of factories and smoke stacks flashed beneath the bombers as they moved toward their objective. Cuba base was in full view now, its monstrous hangars sticking out among the smaller complexes with BuCUEs and ZuOOTs lined up along the flight lines next to the control center. Mwu could make out about ten of the machines lined up alongside the building, just waiting to be torched.
"Status Sai?" Mwu asked.
"All set down here sir," Sai responded from his position in the aircraft's nose. "Targets are in sight!"
"Hold on back there guys!" Kira shouted.
"Approaching targets for bomb run!" Mwu shouted over the commotion.
"Open bomb bay doors!" John commanded from the lead bomber, "Open bomb bay doors!"
With ease, both doors on the undersides of the planes flew open and for the first time, their contents were exposed to the air. Four bombs sat inside the fuselage of each bomber, waiting to be set loose to rain destruction down on the base below. So far, not a single puff of flack had appeared anywhere near the planes and no mobile suits were to be seen patrolling the skies. They'd done it. They'd made it in without being detected.
The planes moved ever closer. In their respective planes, Sai and Coop lined their targets up within the crosshairs their computers provided. All they had to do now was hope they hit the target right in the middle. Jay held onto the broomstick he had been provided with, wondering what in the hell he was supposed to do with it. Am I supposed to throw this thing at 'em...? Up in the cockpit of Jay's plane, Athrun and Dearka steadied themselves, keeping their bomber steady so that the bombs would drop perfectly. Just let me get this right...Athrun hoped silently. Then, suddenly, something caught his eye. Sitting inside one of the hangars, fully exposed to the bright sunshine of the morning skies, was a mobile suit he recognized. X-102 Duel. Yzak's machine.
"Dearka..." Athrun murmured.
"Yeah, I know..." Dearka returned, just as uneasily. "Nothing we can do about it now...just hope he's not there..."
Athrun had hoped that nobody he knew would be present when the bombing began, but with Yzak there...no, he had to do his duty. The success of this mission depended upon his complete calmness of mind and emotion. He couldn't allow something like this to interfere with his thoughts. But still...
"Target set!" Coop shouted from his place in the nose of Colonel Namora's plane. John knew the time had come.
"Drop your ordinants!" he shouted to everyone.
"Bombs away!" Mwu shouted. "Bombs away!" Frank, Athrun, Stevy, and others shouted.
"One away!" Sai replied from his position. One of the bombs was released from its canister and drifted down toward the base. In a matter of seconds, it connected, exploding in a blaze of fire and energy. "Two away!" The second bomb followed in suit, penetrating into the main hangar complex, setting one landing pad on fire. "Three away! Four away!" The final two bombs released and demolished two BuCUE's parked alongside the command center. Other bombs penetrated into the command center, exploding with deadly accuracy. Fires broke out everywhere in the base. Mobile suits exploded in their hangars, without even putting up a fight. A piece of steel came crashing down on top of Rau's CGUE sitting in its hangar, effectively pinning it to the ground. Rau seethed to himself, You bastards...!
Activating his radio, which was surprisingly still working, Rau shouted, "All anti-aircraft installations! Commence fire immediately! Shoot them all down!"
Not knowing what was going on on the ground, the pilots and crews aboard the bombers, triumphantly patted each other on the backs and slapped each others hands. Inside his own plane however, while the others celebrate, Kira gave no cries of jubilation or enthusiasm. He'd more than likely just killed again, something he promised he would never again resort to. He wondered...what would be the consequences of what he had just done? What would happen now that he had killed again? In the plane abreast from his, Athrun and Dearka said nothing to one another. They just silently prayed that Yzak had not been hurt by the bombs they had dropped. "We hit our targets! Good job raiders!" John shouted enthusiastically from his plane. Mwu breathed a sigh of relief, that this part of the mission had been accomplished.
However, before they could celebrate further, it was unfortunately cut short. Out of nowhere, a black puff of smoke, signaling the detonation of an anti-aircraft shell appeared amongst the formation of planes. Numerous others soon joined it, sending shockwaves into the sky, erupting throughout the formation of bombers which had turned into sitting ducks for the anti-aircraft guns.
One shell struck Mwu and Kira's plane partially in the fuselage, ripping into the side, but doing nothing much more than cosmetic damage, but the plane still rattled severely from the hit. Mwu held onto his stick attempting to find a way out of the flack barage. "We got flack everywhere!" Kira shouted next to him. Humungous amounts of the deadly projecticles flashed up at the planes from guns on the ground. One plane in the lead formation took a direct hit in the fuselage and an explosion rocked the plane, destroying the cockpit and nose, sending it spiraling down towards its death on the surface below. Other planes sustained damage from numerous flack hits and slowly sank in the sky towards their firey doom. Hugh Swanson's plane was one of these...
Up in the lead bomber, John knew he had to do something quickly to save not only himself, but his crew. One piece of flack had already struck the plane, injuring his navigator, but doing nothing else. Then, John had an idea. It was crazy, but it just might work. "Mike," he shouted. "everbody, hold on! I'm gonna barrel-roll this sucker!"
"Wha-?" Mike's protest was drowned out as John turned the control stick, sending the plane into a starboard barrel-roll, flipping it over first onto its starboard wing and then completely upside down. The g-forces increased dramatically as John struggled to maintain control of the rolling plane. He completed several more of the barrel-rolls before finally leveling off at about seven thousand feet. Flack was still coming up towards the plane, but not in as great a numbers as before. Checking his diagnostics, John was disheartened to find out that six planes had already gone down. Thirty brave souls... he thought sadly. But now, he had to concentrate on what he still had left. His plane was still up in the air, its crew still safe. Following close in his wake were six more of his bombers, showing damage signs, but still flying. John recognized one as number 6, Stevy and Niada's plane.
Patching through to their channel, John shouted, "Stevy! Niada! You guys alright?"
"We're fine Colonel," Stevy's voice replied, obviously showing strain. "We've lost our tail-gunner but otherwise we're alright..." Stevy tapered off then, not speaking for a while. The next voice to speak was his twin brother Niada.
"Colonel..." he said uneasily, "...we lost Hugh..." That hit John like a brick of cement. No...he thought sadly. Why him...? Hugh was the only member of the squadron who was married and had a family back home. Why did he have to be one of the ones who didn't come back? Why did this always happen to the good people? What was he going to do about Maria and the boys?
Replying to Niada's statement, after regaining his composure, John asked. "What about everyone else?"
"We've still got contact with the other five sir, Frank and Donnie are two of them, but his radio's shot," Stevy responded. "We got separate from Mwu and Athrun during the barage. We think they're off to the east, but we can't see them. They're still up on the diagnostic."
John made a double check and thankfully saw that both number 2 and number 3 were still up and running. "Guys there's nothing we can do for them now..." John had to struggle to say that. "All we can do is keep going and hope we make Colombia." He hated having to leave his men, no, his friends behind, but what he had to do now was make sure that his crew made it safely over the Caribbean to Colombia. That was all he could do now. He just hoped Mwu and the others made it safely out.
Back over Cuba, Mwu, Kira, Athrun, and Dearka were still trying to wrestle their way out of the flack storm. Mwu's plane had taken another hit in the tail, but still flew straight. "Just hope they don't hit a prop!" Kira said, straining to keep control of the bomber.
"Kira!" someone shouted from the rear of the plane. Kira recongized this as Tim's voice. After receiving an affirmative nod from Mwu, Kira stumbled out of his seat and peered back into the rear fuselage. Straining to see in the darkness, Kira made out two figures, one person holding another in his lap.
"Tim!" Kira shouted.
"Kira, I think Leo's dead!" Tim shouted back, with tears in his eyes. "He won't wake up! Leo!" Kira pounded fist against the side of the plane and headed back into the cockpit, blinking away tears. Another person had been taken by the war under his watch. Why does this have to happen? Kira thought sadly.
The flack storm still wasn't letting up and Mwu was having serious trouble keeping the bomber going straight. He turned to Kira and commanded, "Kira, we're gonna pull outta this!" Activating the radio, Kira hailed Athrun and Dearka who were flying behind and to starboard. "Athrun! Get up into the clouds! Get up in that soup!"
On board his plane, Athrun turned back to Dearka and relayed the message. "Alright Dearka, come on! We've gotta pull out of this!" He slammed his window shut and pulled back hard on the stick, Dearka doing the same. Both bombers slowly began to rise into the sky, gaining altitude away from the flack barage. After a few moments, the black puffs died away, leaving the two planes in the sky alone. No other planes could be seen for miles around. They were alone. Athrun struggled to look around, to try and see any other bombers in the sky. His diagnostic board was shot, having been taken out when a flack shot had hit his plane. The only things that seemed to still be working were the engines, the rudder, and the gun emplacement in the nose. The strike that had hit his plane had killed his navigator, leaving only four remaining in his plane. Athrun kept his emotions in check however, as his training had taught him to. Duty comes first... he thought sheepishly, knowing full well that duty didn't come first in this situation, but he still had to follow orders.
Up ahead, Kira's plane was still flying, but showing damage much like his own plane. Based on the hail they'd received, Athrun knew Kira was alive and well, so that was somewhat of a spirit lifter. Athrun also silently hoped that Yzak hadn't been present when the bombs had fallen.
Mwu's diagnostics also weren't working, so he didn't know the status of John, Hugh, or Frank. He prayed that they were just far away from him, completely unaware that one of them was... Right now, he just turned his plane southward towards Colombia, hoping that the worst of their problems were behind them...
-Archangel, 1135.
Ten minutes had passed since contact had been lost with the planes. Some of the bridge crew had gotten up out of their seats, not bothering to say anything, just to either stretch their legs by pacing, or wandering over to each other's counsel's trying to find out anything that would tell them what happened. Murrue remained in her chair, her eyes closed, deep in thought. Tell me you got out...tell me you got out safely Mwu...tell me you're still alive Frank...
Suddenly, a beep sounded from Chandra's station. "Signal's back!" he reported. Activating the counsel, he brought up the plane's status, but his spirits dropped when he saw the analysis.
When no response immediately came from Chandra, Natarle turned to him and asked, "What's the status of the plane, Mr. Chandra?"
"Did at least some of them make it out?" Neumann asked wandering over.
Chandra slowly turned his head to where every eye one the bridge was trained on him. Straining over what words to use, Chandra finally answered, "...nine of them are still up..." Sad groans escaped from virtually every member on the bridge. Some of the crews hadn't made it out. Each person felt as if they had failed.
"Any idea who it is that's still left...?" Natarle asked uneasily.
"Well..." Chandra began uneasily, "Colonel Namora's plane still getting a signal out, so he's alright. So's Commander la Flaga and Lieutenant Commander Barkhesh..." Murrue's spirits shout out as if they were loaded into a cannon. Yes...! she ecstatically thought to herself. But then her mood dropped when Chandra added, Swanson's plane isn't sending a signal...they didn't make it..." Silence settled over the bridge for some time.
Finally, Murrue bravely broke the silence by asking Neumann how long it would take them to reach Bermuda.
"We should be in by early tomorrow morning, Captain," Neumann answered.
"We won't be able to hold contact with them for very much longer Captain," Natarle added somberly, "It would most likely be for the ship's safety wise to break off contact with the planes..."
Understandably, Murrue nodded her approval. There was nothing else they could do right now. All they could do was hope the remaining planes could make it to Colombia. Archangel continued on her northward journey as the sun was eclipsed by cloud cover. It served as a reminder to the crew that not everyone made it out of a war. Some people did get killed. That was reality. The ship treaded through the water toward Bermuda, leaving Cuba, and their comrades in their wake.