-Somewhere over the Atlantic, July 16, C.E. 71 2330.
Darkness swirled all around them. Small flickers of light reflected off of the glass pedistals on the far ends of the wings, and through a small searchlight located just below the cockpit canopies. No clouds were present to buffett the giant K-bombers as they plowed through the darkness, looking, if that term could be applied to their situation, for a safe place to set down. However, in the minds of the men on board the planes, they knew that virtually all hope was lost.
If they tried to reach an Earth Forces base, they would be captured and most likely executed on the spot. Anywhere else was also out of the question because it was either neutral territory or ZAFT controlled. At the moment, the three bombers searched the night sky over the black ocean below them, searching for any sign that they would be able to make it out of the night alive. Their fuel tanks had been filled to capacity when they had left the blazing airfield behind them, so they had a while before they'd be in dangerous straights. They had enough ammunition aboard to fend off a small fighting force, but nobody really felt like fighting at the moment. Every single brain cell in their thick skulls was still trying to digest the matter to which they had been put in this situation. That the people they had fought and nearly died for had been the ones who had tried to kill them in reality. Friends lost to the Earth Force's treachery moved through the minds of all thirty one of the men aboard the massive planes.
No where were these thoughts more sorrow-filled and riddled with failure than in the mind of Athrun Zala. While Kira concentrated on flying the aircraft, Athrun had stared out into the blackness of the night sky, deeply lost in thought and remembrance. Remembrance of his mother who had died at the hands of the Earth Forces on Junius Seven during the 'Bloody Valentine'. Thoughts of his friend Miguel Aiman, cut down at the hands of the person sitting beside him in the conflict that had led to the destruction of Heliopolis. Images of his good friend Nicol Amalfi, also cut down by Kira, which had led Athrun to attempt to kill Kira himself, but had ended up only hurting Athrun even more. Finally, images of his friend Dearka...who had just given his life to save Athrun and the rest...
Athrun's eyes filled up with tears he couldn't hold back any longer. He'd cried when Nicol had died trying to save him. Now Dearka was gone in much the same manner. Everyone who had tried to protect him was now dying or already dead, and he couldn't do a thing to save them!
Kira looked over and saw his friend with his eyes tightly shut, droplets of water trailing down his cheeks. "What's...wrong Athrun...?"
"Why..." Athrun trembled as he spoke. "Why does everyone I'm close too have to die?!"
Kira reached over and tried to pat Athrun on the shoulder, but he didn't. Kira knew from his own experiences, exactly what Athrun was upset about. Kira had gone through many of the same things and they all came flooding back into his own memory. The little girl from Heliopolis who he'd failed to protect. His best friend Tolle who had been killed by Athrun himself in front of Kira's eyes. Each black memory stung Kira's heart like a rusty dagger being thrust into his chest every few seconds. So many people he'd failed to protect. How he wished the war would just cease and end all at once and stop the killing.
Up in the lead bomber, John and Mwu struggled to get an exact location on their position. "How far are we out Kurk?" John called back.
"Looks to be about six hundred miles out sir."
"What's the current time?"
"Uh...0120 sir!"
"Still looking pretty bad John..." Mwu broke in.
"I know that... we just gotta keep going and see if we can make Bermuda before we run out of gas."
"You know what'll happen if we land there, right John?"
"Of course I do!" John shivered, "but what choice do we have? We've got to put down somewhere."
Somewhere..., John thought, let's just hope we make it to somewhere...
"Colonel," The outburst made John jump. "We gotta put down somewhere fast!"
"What's the matter Mike?"
"Frank's condition's getting worse. His complection's completely pale and breathings getting shallower every time. If we don't put down soon he'll go into shock!"
"Damn it..." Mwu swore silently.
"Colonel!"
"Now what Kurk?"
"Radar's detecting a ship below us!" Then, more excitedly he added, "It's identified as the Archangel!"
-Archangel, July 17, C.E. 71, 0130.
Eyes closed, body relaxed, mind calm. Murrue tried to keep herself calm while she sat in her Captain's chair at this late hour. She had granted much of the bridge crew time to get some sleep and she, Natarle, Pal, Neumann, and Jospeh were the only ones on duty at this time. They had continually been traveling at a low speed across the water while she tried to figure out what they would do next. It would only be a matter of time before the High Command figured out that they knew what they'd tried to do to them. She had to find a means to get the Archangel and the crew to a safe location. With the mobile weapons the ship carried inside her hangars, she would be a prime target for both the Earth Forces and ZAFT to capture. Murrue was determined to not let the mobile suits and other equipment to be used for either side's benefits.
Silently to herself, for much of the night Murrue had been saying prayers for all of the men in the squadron who were going to be killed by the Council for their own pleasure. She prayed for their families and friends, hoping that they would realize the truth and expose the Council for the back-stabbing bastards they were. Almost as an afterthought, she also hoped that every single person involved in this set-up was burning in the depths of hell when this was all over with. And if I get the chance... Murrue thought darkly to herself, ...I'll kill every single one of you myself!
"What's our current position, Ensign Neumann?" Natarle's question snapped Murrue out of her trance. She too was interested to hear the ship's current location.
"Approximately...39 degrees North...69 degrees West. We're not near any large land mass at this time."
"Is that good or bad?" Joseph asked.
"It depends on which way you look at it," Natarle answered calmly. "On one hand, it's not really helpful considering that we're going to have to stop in the not too distant future and restock on supplies. If I'm correct, the supplies we received at Bermuda will satisfy the ship's needs for about four weeks, correct Captain?"
"Yes, that's correct," Murrue replied.
"So we will have to stop at some land mass in about four weeks to resupply..." Natarle's expression turned from calm to fierce in almost an heartbeat. "But, on the other hand, since we're out in the middle of the ocean it's less likely that those bastards in the Inner Council will be able to find us. Overall, I'd say it's about even on that account."
"Who wants to bet on how long it'll take the Council to figure out we know what really happened?" Neumann joked.
"I think I'll pass, Arnie..." Joseph responded soberly.
"Stay focused, you two!" Natarle ordered. "You two are responsible for where this ship's going. If you slack off for just one second, we'll end up in prey for a ZAFT ship in the blink of an eye!"
Murrue could almost chuckle at Natarle's outburst. Typical Natarle... Murrue thought, Always has to have duty come first...but I can't really blame her for going off like that, considering she just got betrayed like the rest of us!
"Alright that's enough," Murrue commanded. "Back to work, all of you! We've still got a long night ahead." She tried to make that order seem less severe than it actually was because that wasn't how Murrue was. She didn't want to be the type of person who didn't care what happened to her crew and just barked orders at everyone. That was how it had been when she was young... No! I'm not going to think about it! She was determined to balance command with enough kindness to be both liked and respected by the crew, and she seemed to be doing a fairly good job in her own mind. With that, she closed her eyes once more and tried to be calm during these pressing times.
Suddenly, a sharp chiming snapped her out of her train of thought. It was coming from Neumann's console at the front of the bridge. "What is it Ensign Neumann?"
"Radar's picking up something above the water!" Neumann answered. He punched in commands on his keypad and data scrolled up on his screen. "Three aircraft of unknown types! They're huge!"
Murrue's eyes shot up. "All hands, level one to level one battlestations!"
"All hands to level one battlestations!" Pal shouted into his head-set which carried the message throughout the entire ship. "All hands to level one battlestations!" Within moments, Chandra, Tonomura, and Miriallia filed through the bridge's steel doors and took their positions. Chief Murdoch came sprinting through the doors out of breath from his long run from the hangar and took his temporary seat behind Pal.
"Have you I.D.'d those planes yet?" Natarle commanded.
"Computer still doesn't recognize them," Tonomura answered, "But they're closing awfully fast, and they're not transmitting any radio signals!"
"Stand by to intercept!" Murrue ordered. "CIC, what's their current position?"
"Approximately five hundred yards away, moving at three-hundred knots per hour...!"
"Load wombats into stern missile tubes!" Natarle ordered, taking her seat in the middle of the CIC chamber below the bridge's command floor. "Activate Valient's and Helldarts! Laser-designator, can you get a lock onto them?"
"Just a second..." Murdoch replied, "Alright I've got it!"
"Prepare to fire," Murrue ordered. No matter who it is, they unfortunately picked the wrong day to stumble upon us... she thought, as the ship's weapons prepared to rain down upon the closing aircraft.
-K-bomber, 0140.
"Colonel! We're being locked onto!"
"What?!" John snapped.
"Archangel doesn't have any idea we're aboard here John!" Mwu suddenly burst out. "They're going to fire on us!"
"Colonel Namora!" John heard Kira cry from his own plane, "We've got to go evasive. We're sitting ducks up here!"
"Their weapons work just as well in the night as they do the day John!" Mwu stated, his voice rising. "They'll be able to pick us off real easily."
"John!" Stevy put in, "We don't have any means to contact them! They'll destroy us!"
John suddenly reached over and grabbed Mwu's collar. "Hey, what the-?" Mwu began to refute, but he realized what John was doing, and shut his mouth.
-Archangel, 0140.
"Distance 200 yards and closing!" Tonomura shouted.
"Valient's now! F-!"
"Stop! Don't fire!" Pal's outburst scared the crap out of everybody on the bridge. Murrue turned to him confused and he responded, "Commander la Flaga's on board that plane!"
"Huh?!" Murrue gasped.
"What?!" Natarle burst.
"His comm just was activated...now Commander Barkhesh's comm is active! They're aboard the same plane!"
"How can you be sure that it's really them?" Natarle questioned, coming up from her own position to stand beside Pal's station.
"Well...we can't exactly be sure, but-,"
"Captain!" Miriallia shouted. "There's a transmission coming through! It's from the planes!"
"Mr. Pal! Can you get it?!" Murrue ordered.
"Just a moment... alright I've got it!" Murrue jumped up from her seat and stood beside Natarle and listened in on the transmission.
"This is Colonel John Namora hailing the Archangel! Archangel, do not open fire on us! Aboard these planes are myself and the surviving members of my squadron! We are in urgent need of assistance at this time!"
"All weapons systems stand down at once!" Murrue commanded.
Natarle activated the response signal and said, "We read you loud and clear Colonel! What's the situation up there? How did you escape?"
"Escape?" the response came. "Oh, so you did hear what the Council said through the open comm."
"Every word," Natarle answered quietly.
"Well, right now we've got an injured personnel who needs to get into surgery right away! It's imperative that we land immediately. I have other men aboard who also need medical treatment." There was a small pause at that time, but then the voice continued, "Do we have permission to land Captain Ramius?"
"Yes, of course," Murrue replied, speaking into the radio, "Land as quickly as you can. I'll have our medics standing by when you touch down."
"Great. Oh, and one more thing. I'd advise the hangar crews to stand clear when we land. It's gonna take a lot of room to land these fat ladies!"
The signal deactivated at that time. "Have the hangar crews prepare for immediate landings!" Murrue ordered. "Get the doctor and his assistants down to the hangar! Turn the outer lights on so they can at least see where we are."
Chandra and Neumann activated several switches and lights placed on the edges of the front legs and bridge came to life, illuminating the black sky and ocean. The lights cast an eerie glow on the dark sea in front of the ship turning the air and water a light grayish color immediately in front of the Archangel. Murrue thought she could make out three shapes combing through the night sky as they passed overhead of the ship. She couldn't tell which type of aircraft they were, but based on what Colonel Namora had said, they had to be pretty big.
"Open the hatch and prepare for landing," Murrue ordered. "I'm going down there. Lieutenant Badgiruel, you come with me."
She turned and walked toward the elevator with Natarle following close behind her. The doors closed and the lift began its long descent to the lowest level on the ship. Staring straight at the enclosed doors, Murrue glanced over when she heard the sound of a gun cock. She turned and saw Natarle loading a small pistol in her hands and shot her a confused glance.
Natarle noticed this and responded calmly, "This is just in case they're not who they say they are, Captain."
"Yes, I know..." Murrue had to find strength to get those words out. After all this, she really couldn't even think that someone had stolen Mwu and Frank's comms from their bodies and were now just using them to get inside the Archangel.
"It's not very likely that I'll need it," Natarle reassured her, "But it's better to be safe than sorry."
The elevator finally reached the bottom level and the two women stepped out into the corridor which led to the hangar. Flood lights placed on the roof of the hangar illuminated the huge galley, and crews were busy moving the two Skygraspers and the Moebieus Zero to the edges of the bulkheads so the planes would be able to land. The hatch on the starboard leg was opened and the darkness of the night flooded in through the exposed opening. Four mobile suits sat secured with steel girders and beams along the walls of the hangars, each powered down at the moment with the pilot's of each one currently not on board the ship. Murrue and Natarle stood and waited at the extreme port side of the hangar for the first of the aircraft to set down on the ship.
A faint humming noise sounded a few minutes later as the first of the aircraft began its descent towards the hangar. The sound grew louder as the plane approached, its engines powering down as it closed in on the opening. Finally, the lights on the edges of the Archangel's starboard leg cast their glow on the airplane as it approached the hangar. Murrue's thoughts had been proven correct. The plane was humungous, with its wingspan barely small enough to fit through the opening and its four engines still spouting noise even with them powered down. Large wheels extended from the base of the fuselage and wings which made it appear as if the gigantic craft had legs of its own. With a loud thump, the wheels touched down on the deck, shaking it ever so slightly with the plane's full weight behind them. Small puffs of smoke ejected from behind the tires as the brakes kicked into effect, and the plane caught hold of one of the outstretched cables strewn across the deck which were used to pull an aircraft to a stop before it got too far into the hangar facility. Stopping after about just a hundred feet of travel on the deck, the plane was silent as the hangar crews cautiously approached, not knowing who was actually inside of it.
They breathed a sigh of relief when the first person to emerge from the aircraft was recognized as Donnie Wiseman, who came out of the plastic dome guarding the nose guns. He jumped out of the dome and set his feet on the deck, holding his hands up to show that he was carrying no weapons. Relieved, several of the crew began to make their way towards the bomber and started prepping it to be moved aside to allow the other two planes to land. Donnie motioned wildly with his arms for the medical personnel to hurry into the plane as its entrance ramp descended and touched the deck. Several other men followed Donnie into the plane and disappeared inside of it. Murrue cast a reassuring glance at Natarle standing next to her and the other woman went to discard the pistol she had carried along with her on the way down. After Natarle had left her side, Murrue wandered over toward the plane as it was beginning to be pulled away from the landing zone and to the other side of the hangar. She stopped when she saw the legs of people starting to walk down the ramp and a set of small wheels set between them. They were conversing heavily between one another, but because of the distance, Murrue couldn't pinpoint what they were saying exactly. Then, the men set foot onto the deck and she saw that they had a stretcher between them. A lone man lay sprawled across it, obviously badly injured. All at once Murrue started running towards them, suddenly realizing who it was they were carrying on the stretcher. She didn't need to wait for the men to say his name; the brown hair and matching mustache easily gave the person's identity away.
"Frank!" Murrue shouted as she ran up to the men who were now transporting her brother across the deck towards the adjoining corridor. She squeezed between two of the men and with horrifying realization saw that her brother's face was completely pale and that he wasn't breathing. Her hands went up to cover her mouth when she was further horrified to find that her brother didn't have a right hand anymore. It was completely gone above his wrist and blood was streaming out of the wound.
"He's in shock right now Captain!" one of the men said to her. "We need to get him to the infirmary and into surgery immediately! Please move out of the way, ma'am."
Murrue reluctantly, moved away from her brother's side as the men guided his unconscious form into the corridor. She followed them at a distance, her hands still covering her mouth in a show of fear and shock. Finally, they managed to reach the infirmary where the ship's doctor was waiting. Quickly, tearing off Frank's clothes, the doctor hooked Frank up to an IV and began administering pre-surgery adcentives. Murrue cautiously walked through the door to the infirmary and approached her brother. His facial expression did not show any signs of fear. To her, it was just an expression of downright sadness. In moments, he disappeared behind a set of closed doors and she saw nothing more of him. Murrue walked over to the doctor who was just now slipping on his gloves and cap.
"How...bad is it...?" Murrue asked fearfully.
"...Right now it looks pretty bad..." the doctor reluctantly began. "H-he's lost a lot of blood and it appears as though his wound's been infected. It's very likely that we'll have to amputate the rest of his wrist."
"Oh no..." Murrue gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Don't worry, it's not as bad as it sounds," the doctor reassured her, taking her by the shoulders. "I-in fact...if you decide that it's for the best...we may be able to give him a new hand and wrist...if it's alright with you..."
"What do you mean...?" Murrue asked through her tears.
"Well...in the past few months, medical experts within the military have been experimenting with artificial implants for lost body parts. They are made of solid steel, which has been tested and proved to react quite well with the body's systems. It's covered by artifical epidermis which looks just like real human skin and other than in the form of his wrist which is where we will have to attach it, it'll look as if it's a genuine human hand. It just so happens that we do have one onboard the ship at this time. Now...we won't do it if you don't want to and as his sister, you do have the right to tell us not to do it, but I believe, it may be for his best interest if we..."
"Do it, then," Murrue responded, "Just make sure he gets out alive..." The doctor released Murrue and she painfully watched him disappear behind the doors Frank had gone through moments before. She felt streaks of tears cascading down her fair face and she did nothing to stop them. She collapsed into one of the chairs and wept into her hands.
While she cried, her mind took her once again back to a place she had hoped she would never revisit again. It was her old house she had lived in when she was a young child. She saw herself at probably the age of only ten. Her former self was squatted down on the floor of her home, her arms wrapped around the form of her thirteen year-old brother, her face showing signs of fear. Frank had bad cuts and bruises along his face and exposed arms and his hair was full of dirt and mudd. Murrue heard herself screaming "Stop it! Don't hurt him anymore! Please! He's hurt enough! Please stop it!"
"Ouch!" The sudden noise brought Murrue back to reality. She turned her now tear-stained face toward the doorway and saw another stretcher being brought in.
"I'm sorry sir, I know it hurts, but we can't do anything about the bumps," a different voice said.
"Yeah well..." Murrue saw Mwu's figure being wheeled into the infirmary, his blonde hair a complete mess, a shaggy beard had sprouted along his chin, and his foot was taped heavily to the gurney.
"Mwu!" Murrue gasped, when she saw him enter. He turned and saw her coming toward him, a saddened expression on her face. His own face turned down and away from her, not wanting to see the pain in her brown eyes.
"I-I'm...sorry about Frank, Captain...w-we did everything we could for him..."
"Oh...it's not your fault..." Murrue cried as she kneeled down beside his stretcher as it was wheeled to a stop beside the wall. "...w-...what happened...?" she asked.
Mwu took a deep breath and then reluctantly replied, "...he did that himself..."
"What?!" Murrue cried. "W-w-why would he do that himself...?"
"To save his co-pilot. Frank saved his co-pilot's life by doing that to himself..." Mwu responded, and Murrue could see small amounts of tears appearing in the corners of his blue eyes. The medics managed to cut off Mwu's boot and expose his broken ankle. Both Mwu and Murrue cringed at the sight. Mwu's ankle was arrayed in a position that had the heel turned in a completely different direction than the front of the foot and the skin was a mix of black, blue, and regular skin color.
"It's completely broken, Commander," the medic stated. "You won't be able to walk normally for a few weeks at the least."
"What can you do that will allow me to get around on my own today?" Mwu replied sternly.
"Uh...we could put a brace on the foot. It would allow you to move around on crutches but I must advise you that the pain would greatly increase with it."
"But it will allow me to move around, yes?"
"Yes it will, but,-"
"Then do it!" Mwu commanded. Then to Murrue he added quietly, "Damn Azrael smashed my foot!"
"That bastard...!" Murrue responded just as quietly. Seeing Mwu's questioning glance, she added, "We heard everything through your comm."
"Oh..."
She saw the pained expression in his face and realized what he was thinking about right now. "Mwu...I'm...sorry about Hugh..."
"Don't be. It's not your fault..." Mwu pressed his eyelids together tightly and didn't say anything else. It just made Murrue feel even worse.
Murrue's comlink then chimed and she stood back on her feet and activated it. "Yes, who is it?"
"It's me Captain," Natarle's voice responded through the other end. "The other planes have set down. Do you have any other commands at this time?"
"No, just give the pilots and crews a chance to rest Natarle," Murrue answered.
"Yes, ma'am." Then, Natarle quietly added, "How's...your brother's condition...?"
Murrue could tell by the tone of the other woman's voice that Natarle was trying to use words that wouldn't upset Murrue. "He's in surgery right now Natarle. His right hand is completely gone and they're going to amputate his wrist."
"Oh...I'm sorry..."
"It's not your fault..." Murrue reassured her. Then she added quietly, "Natarle. Would you please take command of the ship for now. I'm going to stay down here until Frank gets out and wakes up."
"Yes, ma'am, Captain," Natarle responded and the comlink shut off. Murrue placed the comlink back in her pocket and sat back down in the same chair looking at the doors Frank had vanished behind several minutes before. You have to make it out Frank. Please, don't leave me alone again.
-Archangel, 0200.
Miriallia had silently strolled down to the hangars to see if any of her friends had returned. She saw one bomber being hauled off to the opposite side of the hangar under the strain of cables and men pushing the huge aircraft. Over to the side, sitting atop of a pile of crates, Miriallia saw Sai lounging with his head set upon his knee. She briskly walked over to him and smiled when he recognized her presence.
"Hey, Mir," Sai said happily. The two friends embraced lightly and stood facing each other for a few moments. Sai didn't appear to be hurt and that made Miriallia feel a little better. Turning her head, she saw Kira and Athrun walking slowly across the hangar with their heads down and hands thrust inside their jacket pockets.
"What's wrong with them...?" Miriallia reluctantly asked Sai.
Sai's expression saddened a little, Miriallia could tell, and then he quietly replied. "Dearka...didn't make it back..."
A fictional boulder struck Miriallia in the stomach. "H-how...?" Miriallia blurted out.
Turning his head, Sai continued, "He...sacrified himself...so the rest of us could escape New York." Miriallia's heart sank even more at these words. All the time she had known Dearka, she had thought him to be a selfish boy who really only cared about himself and was only kind to her because he thought she was cute. But after hearing these words, her complete scope on the young man changed. He had given his own life to save the lives of his friends. Just as Tolle had done...
Miriallia looked and saw Sai with a hurt expression on his face and she gently took hold of his arm. "Come on Sai," she said reassuringly. "Let's go get you to your quarters. You definetly need some sleep." She slowly guided Sai out of the hangar and toward his quarters where she gently laid him out on the bed. This must've been how I was...when...
When he fell asleep, she walked out of his quarters and back down through the corridor. She stopped however, when she saw an open door. Miriallia recognized it as the room Dearka had been kept in when he had been aboard the Archangel originally as a POW. She saw a few of his meager possessions lingering on his former bed and she couldn't stand the sight of another friend gone. Friend...? she thought to herself. Yes, she decided. Dearka had been a friend, and now another friend was gone.
-Archangel, 0600.
The sun rose over the horizon in a brilliant display of yellow, green, and blue. Light blazed off of the ocean's tranquil waters and reflected up into the viewport of the bridge. The sunlight hurt Mwu's eyes when he attempted to stare at the beautiful sight. He was leaning up against one of the bulkheads on the side of the bridge, being supported by the crutches under his arm pits. His ankle was secured by a black brace that hurt very much, but he dealt with the pain as best as he could, not bothering to complain every ten seconds whenever the pain would come screaming back. Mwu wore his military uniform, though he had ripped off his Atlantic Federation insignia in frustration when he had been allowed to return to his quarters. He had washed up as best as he could in his condition and had managed to comb his hair to make it look somewhat respectable. He'd also taken the opportunity to shave off the four day old beard that had sprouted along his chin.
John stood a few meters away, staring out at the open seas in front of the ship. He too had ripped off his insignia and had thrown away the medals he had earned in his service to the Earth Forces. His jet-black hair was washed and combed the way Mwu had come to know it to be. Natarle sat in the Captain's chair, as she was acting as the ship's captain while Murrue waited down in the infirmary for Frank to come out of surgery. She said nothing, but Mwu could tell by the way her face expressed itself that she wasn't thinking happy thoughts, just as the rest of them weren't. Mwu had been able to converse somewhat with members of the bridge crew and everybody was just as pissed off as he was.
The doors to the bridge opened and Mwu turned his head to see Stevy waltz into the bridge, forming his bolar hat, attempting to get it back to the way he liked it. He finally succeeded and placed the hat on his head, not noticing until afterwards that everybody was staring at him. He finally noticed Mwu and others gaze.
"Well...?" Mwu asked.
Stevy took a deep breath and then announced, "He's out of surgery now. They say he'll make it." Mwu breathed a sigh of relief. Frank was going to make it.
"How is he?"
"He's still out and he'll be out for a few more hours, but otherwise he'll be fine. Captain Ramius is staying with him until he wakes up." Stevy moved to lean against a bulkhead opposite of Mwu. His hat had come down over his eyes and he proceeded to move it back up to where he could actually see. He turned his head to John and asked, "What do we do now John?"
John finally turned away from the rising sun and took his hands out of his pockets. "I really have no idea."
"What can we do?" Mwu added. "If we try to go to any safe port, we'll just be putting the Archangel in danger. So we really can only hope that we somehow make it to a neutral state and hope they take us in."
"But that's not likely to happen is it?" Stevy interjected.
"No it isn't," Natarle broke in, turning around in her chair. "The only neutral state that has shown kindness to us in the past has been the Orb Union and I highly doubt we'll be able to make it there without encountering some type of resistance."
Stevy breathed out through his compressed lips and commented, "I just wish that there was some way we could pay back the bastards in the Council back for what they did."
"That's not happening, Stevy," John answered. "The airfield'll be able to communicate with command again this evening sometime. Their main transmitter got knocked out, so they can't get any messages out, but as soon as it's up and running again, they'll go and tell the Council we escaped."
Stevy's head snapped over to face John, nearly sending his hat sliding down his head. "Wait a minute. Are you saying the airfield's communications were totally wiped out?"
John rolled his eyes and responded, "What do you think? The transmitter blew sky high when we left."
Stevy continued to stare at John for a long time, and then brought his hand up to his face and grunted heavily, compressing his eye lids together.
"What's the matter Stevy?" Mwu asked.
"I've been such an idiot," Stevy whispered. "We could've hit back at Azrael already and we didn't see it. Damn it! It was sitting right in front of our noses this entire time!" As he said those last words, Stevy banged his head into one of the bulkheads.
"What the hell are you talking about Stevy?" John asked, confused.
"O.K. Think about this John." Stevy moved away from the bulkhead and made a circle in each hand with his thumb and index finger. "The airfield can't communicate with anyone until this evening probably, right?" Nobody responded. "That means, they can't get word out, that we escaped in the prototype bombers. You know what that means don't you...?"
Mwu's eyes widened and he smiled with sudden realization. "Azrael and the others don't know we got the bombers. He thinks they're still at the airfield!"
"Precisely," Stevy praised, pressing his hands together. "Now...what do you say we do with our contraband property? John?"
John had also smiled upon the realization that they kenw something that Azrael and Sutherland didn't. "I don't know. What did the some bitches have planned to do with them?"
"That's the beauty part John," Stevy answered proudly. "Whoever was maintaining the planes at the airfield left a computer link open on the plane Niada and I stole." He smiled, exposing his pearly white teeth. "Azrael was going to parade them before the other leaders of the Earth Forces, when they commission the new warships later this morning."
Mwu smiled once again. He turned to John and asked innocently, "What do you think John? Feel like a little carrier hunting?"
"It's not my choice right now Mwu." John turned to face Natarle who had been listening in on the conversation from the beginning. "Since you're now in charge of what the Archangel does Lieutenant Badgiruel, it's your call on what we do."
Natarle didn't say anything for a while. Mwu could tell that the younger woman was lost in deep thought, pondering over the decision she had to make. Her eyes closed for a long period of time and no words escaped from her closed mouth. Mwu had a feeling that she wouldn't exactly go for it because it basically went against everything that the military taught its soldiers. Never take on a mission that you yourself weren't ordered by a superior to take on. Finally, Natarle opened her eyes and spoke. "It goes against every military regulation in the book..."
Mwu heard Stevy exhale painfully. He too was greatly displeased. But then he heard Natarle add, "But someone needs to teach those bastards a lesson."
Mwu, John, and Stevy eached smiled happily. Natarle turned her chair to face the bridge crew and commanded, "Tell Chief Murdoch to prepare the K's for launch immediately. All of Colonel Namora's squadron personnel are to report to their designated positions on the planes at once! Go level two battle stations Mr. Pal!"
"All hands to level 2 battle stations! All hands to level 2 battle stations!"
Natarle stood up from her chair and shook John's and Mwu's hands respectively. "Good luck Commander," she said kindly to Mwu.
"Thanks Lieutenant," Mwu said cooly, and he proceeded, albeit hobbling, out of the bridge doors and into the elevator.
Down in the ship's infirmary, Murrue sat on a low-backed chair overlooking one of the infirmary's hospital beds. Frank lay unconscious from the after-effects of his surgery. His brown hair was still a mess and his mustache was in desperate need of a trim. His facial features were now arranged in an expression of peace and tranquility. Murrue silently called out to him, trying to get her brother to wake up from his slumber. The doctor had said that he'd be alright, but she wanted to see for herself that Frank would be alright.
Suddenly, alarms began blaring in the infirmary and the rest of the ship. Murrue heard the call for level 2 battle stations and stood up from her chair. She brushed a strand of autumn colored hair from her forehead and walked slowly over to the comm situated on the wall, trying to be as quiet as possible not to wake Frank up. She activated the comm and keyed its signal to hail the bridge, or more precisely, the ship's captain.
Natarle's face appeared stern and poised when the visual came into view. "What's happening up there Natarle?" Murrue asked.
"We're at level two battle stations right now ma'am. Colonel Namora and the rest of his boys and heading out again." Murrue saw Natarle smile almost evily. "They're going to pay Azrael and Sutherland a little visit with the new bombers."
Murrue felt herself smile. "Just make sure that they get back in one piece Natarle."
"Yes, C-...I mean Murrue." Natarle saluted and signed off. Murrue could only laugh a little at the fact that Natarle was still having a hard time calling her superior officer by her real name, a practice not preached in the Earth Forces. Natarle's use of Murrue's name only signaled to Murrue that Natarle had become accustomed to seeing her fellow crew members as friends and more than just comrades. With that, Murrue went back and took her seat beside her brother's bed. She tugged at the end of her knee-length skirt so that it wouldn't ride up when she sat down and waited for Frank to awaken.
Sai awoke with a startle from where he was sleeping and learned from another man in the squadron what the plan was. He rushed down to where Kira and Athrun's quarters were and found them both sprawled out on their respective beds. When asked what the commotion was about, Sai briefed his two friends on what he knew about their new mission. Without a word, Kira and Athrun jumped from their beds and sprinted down the corridors after Sai.
Inside the Archangel's hangar, Mwu and John clambered across the deck. Before he entered the plane however, John asked Mwu to give him the medals he'd earned in service to the Atlantic Federation. "What are you gonna do with 'em John?"
"Gonna have Chief Murdoch wire 'em to the bombs so we can give 'em back."
Mwu smiled and they raced up into the K-bomber's fuselage. They took their seats inside the cockpit and began powering the plane's systems up. John had noted that these bombers were designed to operate off of a ship and their tires would be able to take a catapault launch, unlike the J-types they had used over Cuba. After the other men were safely aboard the plane, John and Mwu began to work the giant aircraft over to the port side catapault. They heard a snap and a hiss as the steel cables of the catapault attached themselves to the wheels and underbelly of the aircraft.
Up on the bridge, Natarle commanded, "Maintain this heading Mr. Crew! Ensign Neumann! Open the port hatch!"
"Yes ma'am," Neumann responded.
"Sheesh, now I know what it was like when you guys were trying to make Alaska a while back," Joseph joked.
"Yeah. Launches almost every single day," Neumann replied.
The port hatch swung itself open and the launch bay's outer walls extended outward toward the empty ocean. Blue sky and yellow sunlight shined in on the massive bomber as it sat on the catapault, waiting to be thrown into the wild blue yonder.
John turned over to where Mwu sat and asked, "You ready?"
Mwu just responded, "What do you think?"
John smiled to himself and activated the plane's engines. They hummed to life with a great roar and eagerly awaited to be turned to their full potential. John activated the plane's comm and ordered, "You guys better strap in down there! If last time's a sign of things to come, I'd say the launch from the catapault's gonna be pretty rough!" Turning the comm off, John exchanged commands with Mwu. "Superchargers set?"
"Superchargers are set! We're ready to go!"
"Hold on!" John pulled back on the lever for the brakes and nothing happened. John looked confusingly over the diagnostics board to see what went wrong. Mwu finally pointed his index finger at a lever in the center of the board which controlled the plane's thrusters. "Oops." John apologized and he flicked the lever.
Both men were thrown completely back into the fabric of their seats as the giant aircraft surged forward down the deck, the catapault vaulting it towards the end of the flight deck. John heard Mwu yelp out in ecstacy as the plane picked up speed and the two pilots gently managed to lift it off of the deck. They discovered that they had been going an even four hundred knots an hour on the launch, faster than either of them had ever gone on a takeoff.
"You guys alright down there?" John called. He got O.K.'s from everybody and turned the plane into a loop that would bring it back around the Archangel.
The second K-bomber was loaded onto the catapault with Kira and Athrun at the controls. They both made fists and jammed them together signaling that they were ready to go and kick some ass. Kira reached up and activated the plane's thrusters, which sent it screaming down the deck at four hundred knots an hour. Kira strained to keep the plane under control as it sped down the flight deck and slowly lifted off into the morning sky. Kira laughed enthusiastically when the plane gained altitude and joined the first in a loop around the Archangel.
Bomber number three repeated the process with Stevy and Niada at the controls. Sai was at his position in the plane's nose, Coop in the ball turret, and Jay operating one of the tail-guns. Each of them yelled out happily as they saw the ocean growing distant below them.
The three planes formed up in a V-shaped wedge and headed north to where the plane's onboard computer said the coordinates for the commissioning ceremony was to take place. Azrael and Sutherland were in for a rude awakening this morning. Today, for the thirty men on board the planes, and the crew aboard the Archangel, carrier hunting, was the sport of choice for the day.