-Colombia, July 14, C.E. 71, 0630.
"How's the view from up there Sai?" Kira called to his friend who was pirched atop one of the forest's huge trees, acting as lookout for the group in case any ZAFT sentries happened upon them.
"Doesn't appear to be anyone in the area except us, Kira," Sai answered, taking his binoculars away from his eyes. "How's everyone on the ground?"
"We'll all live. Mwu's got a sprained ankle and we think Dearka pulled a back muscle when he was ejected from the plane, but otherwise we're O.K."
"Glad to hear it," Sai commented, returning to his duty. The six men had spent the night in the forest trying to elude ZAFT sentries they knew were in the area. Together, they each had their nine millimeters and about a hundred shots, which wouldn't even compare to the ammo they knew the ZAFTs would be packing. Two people had remained awake at every point during the evening and overnight hours while the others rested. They had managed to start a small fire and had bandaged their wounds the best they could under the conditions. Right now, everyone was awake and alert, waiting for what would happen next.
Down on the ground, Athrun leaned against a tree while Mwu cooked some of the rations they had brought with them over the open fire. It wasn't very glamorous, but it would do. Jay helped the best he could despite behind virtually handicaped without his glasses. Dearka rested up against a tree adjacent to Athrun, nursing his injured back. Kira returned from checking on Sai and sat down on a sprawled out log. There wasn't much anyone could do now. They knew they had completed their mission and had accomplished their goals. Now they just had to get out of this country.
Athrun was about to dose off when something sounded behind him. It was very faint, almost like a pin drop, but Athrun heard it. Someone had stepped on a twig and snapped it. Someone was coming towards them.
Moving away from the tree, Athrun laid himself out next to the log Kira was sitting on and whispered, "Someone's coming!"
Acting quickly, the others also leveled themselves down on the ground as best they could. Mwu extinguished the fire and pulled out his hand-gun, mashing a cartridge into the gun's firing chamber. "Can you tell how many?" he asked.
"No," Athrun replied, loading his own weapon. "I just heard someone smash a branch, so they can't be too far away."
"Yeah, I heard it too," Dearka added. "I heard some footsteps too. I'd say about five of them."
"ZAFTs?" Mwu inquired.
"Who else," Athrun answered.
For moments, no one said anything. Within minutes, they could hear the sounds of the approaching footsteps. Coming in from their left and right at the same time. They were surrounded. With Sai situated up in the trees, there were only five of them on the ground, four when they took into account that Jay was virtually blind. Then, everything stopped. The only sound the men could hear was themselves taking deep breaths every few seconds, trying to remain calm.
Suddenly, a sharp crack rained through the quiet forest, as a bullet smashed into a tree behind them. More shots were fired from both sides. The five men sprawled out at the campsite returned fire as best they could, squeezing the triggers of their hand-guns, trying to buy themselves some time. They had probably alerted everyone in the area to their presence, so things could easily go from bad to worse in a matter of seconds.
A bullet struck the ground inches from Athrun's head, spraying dirt up into the air. Athrun rolled on his side to get a good read on his attacker and upon seeing him camoflouged among the trees, fired two shots, one bullet striking the man in the gut. He went down with a crash, writhing in agony. Dearka managed to blow the crap out of another one of the attackers who was dead before he even hit the ground. But there were more than just the five the men had originally assumed. A total of nine gunman approached the campground, surrounding the men who desperately tried to return fire.
Athrun kept pressing the trigger until his gun was empty, still firing it when no bullets came out. Something struck him hard in the side, causing him to double over in pain. He rolled onto his back, clutching his side and stared into the face of his attacker. The man grinned from ear to ear, realizing who it was he'd hit. Athrun knew there was a huge price on his head his own father had put up and anyone who killed him would be greatly rewarded. The man raised his gun, pointing it straight at Athrun's head, just relishing in obviously his proudest moment. He never got the chance to fire.
Out of nowhere, machine gun fire errupted, several bullets striking the man looming over Athrun repeatedly in the chest. The man fell backwards to the ground, blood seeping out of his wounds. Other attackers went down with bullet wounds. Soon, they had all fallen, and the five men were alone, unknowing who their saviors had been. Athrun well knew it could just be other ZAFT sentries who wanted the kills for themselves. He managed to secure another cartridge in his gun and raised it to fire at the new presences.
"Hold your fire!" someone shouted from above them. Athrun turned up to see Sai climbing down from the trees. His own gun drawn, Sai touched down in front of his comrades saying, "Hold your fire guys! It's the Colombians."
Athrun blew out a sigh of relief as did everyone else. One by one, the Colombian rebels emerged from the trees, each brandishing camuflouge armor dotted with green to merge with the trees and plants. One of them, their leader Athrun assumed, approached Mwu who had just risen to his feet, dirt splattered on his face.
"Commander la Flaga?" the man asked in his South American accent.
"Yes..." Mwu answered cautiously. "That's me."
"Ah, well then, we must get going. We don't want to keep you waiting for long now do we?" The man had his comrades help the others out by supplying them with excess ammunition and food. "We must hurry," he said, "the ZAFTs will be back at any moment. Your friends are waiting for you just a few miles from here."
"How many of them are there?" Mwu asked desperately.
"I'm not sure. I'm only a soldier," the man answered. "Come, we must leave now." With that, they set off again. Mwu taking the point with his men following behind, heading out of the woods and into the open fields of the Colombian grasslands. They'd made it this far, and soon they would be on their way home.
-Atlantic Federation Outpost, Bermuda, 0800.
Archangel rested in the berth she had been given when she arrived at the small outpost earlier in the morning. The ship was being resupplied as were the orders from high command. Fresh water and food were brought on board in large containers, with gasoline and ammunition being supplied to the hangars and engine compartments. Murdoch chatted with the ordinance manager of the base as the supplies were loaded onto the ship.
"We really appreciate what you're doing for us," Murdoch complimented.
"No problem really," the manager answered kindly, "we think we owe you people this much after what you've gone through the past few days."
"Yeah..." Murdoch replied uneasily.
"Still no word on the pilots and crews?" the man asked, trying to cheer Murdoch up.
"No," Murdoch mumbled. "Still no word..."
Up on the bridge, Murrue sat in her chair waiting for the commanding officer to finish with his briefings. No new orders had been given to the Archangel and the officer had gladly granted Murrue's request that the ship remain here for a few days, while the crew got some much needed rest. She hadn't been able to sleep a wink the night before. All she could think about was whether or not her brother and friends had been able to survive their mission. Mwu and Frank kept popping up in her mind even now as the officer concluded his address. The moment he finished, his radio chimed. Speaking a few words into the radio, the officer turned to Murrue and asked, "Is Sergeant Richards around?"
"I'm right here," Jack replied, coming forward from where he had been standing in the rear quadrant of the bridge.
"High command's requested your presence in New York immediately," the officer replied.
"They cite any specific reason?" Jack wondered out loud.
The man paused for a few seconds, attempting to find the right words. Based on his pause, Murrue knew something bad had happened. Probably to her friends. "Command says, Colombian sentries reported no planes coming over their borders last evening." Taking a deep breath, the man continued, "It appears none of them made it..."
No...Murrue cried to herself. Frank was gone. Mwu was gone. Kira was gone. Everyone in the squadron was gone. She'd failed again. More people had died under her watch. Why did this always happen to her? To this ship?
"I see..." Jack replied uneasily. "Thank you sir," After saluting the officer, Jack turned to Murrue and saluted her. "Captain..." he replied, turning and making his exit from the bridge. The commanding officer soon followed suit. For a while, the bridge sat in silence. No one spoke. Who could? Eighty men had just gone to their deaths under their watches. Through all the triumphs and tribulations, this ship still had blood cast on the hull from all the people they'd failed to protect. For the rest of the day, there was no happiness. No jubilation. No friendly chatter. War had taken friends from them again. No one wanted to continue to fight. Why would they?
Outside the ship, Jack clambered into a jeep which another soldier joined him in. After the soldier started the motor and sped away from the docking area, Jack asked quietly. "What was the number?"
"Thirty two," the man replied.
Damn... Jack thought angrily to himself. Well...it's better than thirty three...
-Colombia, 0730.
The airfield wasn't very glamorous. A single runway that was in dire need of repair and a wooden control tower were all that it sported. There were no hangars, no facilities, and just one double engine plane sitting on the tarmack. But it was here, that they would be transported home.
Mwu and the others clambered out of the jeep they had been riding in for the past half an hour. After leaving the forest, they had ventured on foot for almost five miles before reaching a narrow road where they boarded the jeep. It was during the walk that Mwu realized that his ankle was injured more than he originally thought. Now it hurt to put any sort of weight on it for longer than five seconds. He'd have to get it looked at the minute he got to a functional medical facility. Dearka also was in constant pain with his injured back, though he didn't complain about it either. He found that if he just avoided bending his back the pain wouldn't scream out, but that was hard to do, considering the situation they were in.
The leader of the troops that had found them, clambered out of the driver's seat and walked over to Mwu. "This is where we part ways Commander," he said, inclining his head in a slight bow. "It is an honor to have met you all."
"Same here," Mwu answered, bowing himself. "We can never thank you for what you've done for us."
"No thanks are needed, sir. We are just doing what we feel is right for Colombia and for the world." Indicating towards the awaiting plane, the man continued, "Your comrades are already aboard waiting for you sir. I wish you the best of luck."
"Thank you," Mwu repled gratefully. With that, he shook the man's hand and led his men towards the awaiting plane. On the walk over to it, Mwu overheard another man shout, "Humberto's returning with two more!" That was two more people besides them that had survived. So they weren't alone. Mwu sighed with relief at that fact, thinking that it may not have been as bad as he thought.
Mwu climbed up the steps situated next to the plane and stepped inside. "Mwu!" someone shouted. Mwu turned his head to see John rising to his feet to greet him. Mwu happily shook his teacher's hand and slapped him on the back. "Oh boy...great to see you guys," John said enthusiastically. "We didn't know if you'd made it or not."
"Well, we did," Mwu replied. "Come on guys, move it!" he shouted down to the others who were just now clambering up the stairs and into the plane. Kira stepped in first followed by Sai, Dearka, and Athrun who was steering Jay up the stairs and into the plane. Mwu saw Stevy and Niada rise up from their seats, relieved that their friend had made it. They took Jay from Athrun's grasp and guided him to where they were seated, being careful to make sure he didn't ram into anything on his way. Mwu saw Coop, Donnie, and Mike also situated along the plane's insides. Altogether, Mwu counted about thirty people, including himself and the five men from his unit.
However, he soon realized that everyone he wanted to be there, wasn't. There was no sign of Hugh or Frank. Mwu hoped they were just lost out in the woods somewhere, waiting to be found. While he waited, he sat down beside John and listened as he discussed what happened.
"Intelligence really screwed this one over," John ranted. "How can they screw up the number of anti-aircraft guns and the positions the ZAFT scout ships ran over the Atlantic."
"What are you talking about John?" Mwu asked, not knowing what John meant by the ships.
"On our way there, I saw two patrol ships pass underneath us. I also thought I saw a lot of submarines in the area too." Looking Mwu in the eye, he added, "You know where that location was Mwu?"
"No," Mwu answered uneasily.
"The launch point. They were waiting for us."
"How can that have happened?" Mwu wondered out loud. "Our radio's were silenced and nobody outside of the Archangel and the High Command knew about the mission."
"Nova Scotia and Bermuda did," John pointed out.
"Yeah, well still. How the hell did they find out?" Mwu asked.
"I don't know," John said uneasily. "I don't know..."
After the conversation continued for several more minutes, Mwu finally asked John the question he'd been holding back for some time now. "John...do you know anything about Hugh or Frank...?"
John didn't speak for a long time after that. By the look in his eyes, Mwu could tell something wasn't right. Finally, John blurted out, "I don't know about Frank...but...Hugh..." John stopped there, unable to find the right words. John's inability to finish the statement made Mwu's heart plummit. His eyes dropped to the ground with the horrifying realization that his friend was dead. Mwu's hands clutched his chest. He found it hard to breath. Hugh and he had been friends for over twenty years. He couldn't be gone now. He couldn't! Mwu asked himself, Why not me...? Why him...? Recollections of the times they'd shared together flashed through Mwu's memory. From when they were kids, to high school, to the academy, and into the military. They'd done it all together. Now Hugh was gone. A hole seemed to open up inside Mwu. A black hole that drained every ounce of energy and enthusiasm from his body and soul. His friend was gone. There was nothing he could do. What am I gonna tell Maria...? The thought of telling Hugh's lovely wife that her husband was dead terrified Mwu. He didn't want to see her cry, holding onto their boys for dear life. He didn't want to have to do that. Nobody would have wanted to. These and other thoughts speeded through Mwu's mind for the next several agonizing minutes.
Seeing Mwu collapse into himself and tune out the rest of the world made John feel just as bad. Then, John heard someone else approaching the plane. Though the sound was muffled, John managed to make out the conversation between the people below.
"We just found them!"
"How bad is it?"
"Very bad!"
"You have to go with them sir. He won't survive otherwise!"
"Yes, I know! Just help me get him up there!"
John heard the tramping of footsteps coming up the stairs towards the doorway. Training his eyes on the open doorway, John saw one person step inside the plane, carrying the front half of a stretcher behind him. Another man supported the back end of the stretcher, and they both laid it out on the floor of the plane. These men didn't concern John one bit. It was the person on the stretcher that made John jump up and crawl towards it.
"Frank!" John shouted. Mwu snapped out of his daze and saw his friend lying sprawled out on the stretcher. He scrambled after John and reached his friend's side. Frank was unconscious, his face set in a way that made it seem as if he was asleep. "What the hell happened to him?!" John shouted to the medic who entered the plane soon after.
"His right hand is gone!" the medic answered. He lifted sheet which covered Frank's body and blood came spurting out of the gaping hole where Frank's right hand had once been. It had been severed just above the wrist, from a knife blade no doubt. Bone stuck out of the open wound and skin peeled back from the edges where something had clearly gone right through the flesh and muscle, not to mention the bone itself. The medic stabilized the wound as best he could, covering it with anceditives and hooking Frank up to a makeshift IV located in the back of the plane. He injected morphine into Frank's arm in an attempt to dull the pain he knew the man was going through. Frank's skin had begun to turn pale before being administered the medicine, but now seemed to be gradually returning to normal. John and Mwu stood beside Frank's stretcher with Athrun, Kira, and Stevy making up the rest of the party.
"Any idea how this happened?" John asked.
"Probably ZAFTs," Athrun replied from next to John.
"No..." a voice from behind them said weakly. "He did that himself..."
The men in the makeshift medical bay turned to see Jake stumble into the chamber, an ice bag pressed against his temple.
"What are you talking about Jake?" Mwu asked incredulously.
"Ugh..." Jake mumbled. Stevy brought up a chair and sat Jake down on it. Jake was obviously suffering from a concussion and had to struggle just to get the words out. "We crashed into the woods...everybody else on the plane was already dead...it was just the two of us. When we hit the ground I must have gotten knocked out. Frank told me later that he managed to stay alert after we crashed. Trees ruptured the fuel tanks and they were spraying vapor into the plane. I guess he figured it was going to blow, so he started dragging me out...he couldn't fit us both out of the opening...his hand kept getting in the way...he must've thought we had no time left because then...he told me...he took out his knife...and chopped his own hand off. He pulled me out and dragged me away from the plane...then it blew up...I came too right when the sound hit us. I'd been taking care of him as best I could when the Colombians found us about two hours ago. He did that to save me...he passed out before I could thank him...he saved my life..."
Those last few words had been hard for Jake to swallow. Mwu turned his head to glance back at his unconscious friend. His hair was a mess and his mustache was in desperate need of a trim. His face was plastered with dirt, which the medic was now wiping off with a cold wash rag. Only Frank... Mwu thought to himself. Only Frank would do that...never care about himself...everybody else...but not himself...
"Man oh man," Kira murmured. "Captain Ramius is sure gonna kick our asses when we get back there,"
"No kidding," Mwu answered. After all the people she'd lost in this war already, Murrue wouldn't be able to stand it if her brother died. "We'll just have to make sure he makes it back to her."
"Right!" everyone sounded.
A few minutes later, a man motioned for the five men to come into the main seating area of the plane because they were ready to take off. John asked if any more men had been found, but the man answered that none of their sentries had reported finding any more survivors in the past five hours, so it was unlikely that anyone else had survived. John stepped uneasily back into the seating area and took one final head count. Thirty two was the final number he got. Thirty two men out of eighty had survived. Less than half of the brave men he'd flown with had come back. It made John sick inside.
Taking his seat, John felt the plane begin to move and it was soon soaring into the sky with he and the surviving members of his squadron aboard. Coop and Sai took seats next to John as the plane gained altitude and was soon among the clouds. John just stared out his window for the longest time, lost in thought.
"Colonel, sir," Coop whispered. "Is something the matter?"
"Lots of things, Coop," John replied quietly.
"Like what sir?" Sai added.
"I don't know..." John remarked, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Something about this entire thing just doesn't seem right. The botched intelligence, the ships...virtually the entire damn thing doesn't seem right."
Just as John finished, the same man who had told him they were taking off motioned John toward the front of the plane. Getting up from his seat, John walked on his already weak, forty-five year old legs behind the man away from the others in the squadron.
"I'm to report to you sir that our destination has been changed," the man began.
John took a deep breath at that thought. "Where are we headed then?" he asked, trying to hide his rising anger.
"We're heading for New York sir. If my thoughts are correct, I'm going to assume that some of the senior officials of the Earth Forces are going to want you to report on the success of the mission."
Great... John cringed to himself at the thought of having to tell the High Command about this. He'd already gotten into his share number of fights with them. Now what was going to happen? What else bad can happen to me today...? John saluted the man and headed back to his seat. While everyone had dosed off about two hours later, John was still wide awake, staring out into the sky, the place where he found himself to be most at peace. The feeling that something wasn't right kept nagging at him all during the long flight. I'm gonna find out what the hell went wrong... John vowed to himself. And when I do, there's going to be hell to pay!