A Spy to the Gods

by Magnus Palmer

CE73, during a time of war, ex ZAFT soldier Jack Browning enters the scene of espionage at a time when rival intelligence agencies fight for the position of most prized servant to the PLANT Supreme Council. Previously titled 'Cadet Pilot Soldier Spy'.

7. Section Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters.

A Spy to the Gods

Section Seven

After I had flashed my card to the MPs at the gate. I had to sit around in there little hut for a while until some superior of there's came to collect me. I wasn't allowed to walk about freely on the base. I didn't really have much of a problem with that, but it was taking to long for this guy to arrive. After about twenty minutes of being on guard from the MPs offering their excuse for coffee to me, a black uniform eventually arrived with a false smile and generosity. I didn't return the gesture; I just stayed quiet nodding along with what he said, taking no real interest. I caught him saying that they were behind schedule with the loading of the shuttle and that the departure was to be delayed. I was getting bored very quickly, the black uniform tried to make conversation with me during the wait. I made sure that they didn't go anywhere with either single word replies or just grunts. I glanced at my watch every few seconds in annoyance. I had to get out of there soon.

It was about thirty minutes after I should've left on the shuttle, did things finally get on the move. Word came through that the lazy bastards were finally finished loading the shuttle and that I was to board the 4x4 to take me to the launch platform. The darkness was closing in over the base as the cool air rushed past my face in the open top 4x4. After a few minutes of being driven around in between the gigantic warehouse buildings, we reached the launching platform with the grey shuttle sitting waiting for me. I was waved a farewell from the black uniform; I didn't bother to return it though. I was led away by one of the crew to the insides of the shuttle. I was seated just outside of the cockpit of the shuttle, where the rest of the crew would lounge with me for the duration of the trip. I didn't think I'd have to be too careful with them, sleep through the trip to avoid all conversation with any of them. They kept relatively quiet, sleeping or whispering stuff between themselves. Between the periods of sleep I was able to pick up some whispers from some of them, who thought I was still sound a sleep, discussing who I was and what I was doing here. I had to try very hard not to laugh or even smile at some of their cock-and-bull theories.

I was awoken by a green uniform from ZAFT who said that we arrived. Through blurred eyes I glanced through the side window and was greeted with sunlight, real sunshine, not the artificial light like in the PLANTs. I gathered my small rucksack and followed the others to the shuttle exit. As soon as I stepped outside, the heat hit me like a blow to the face. I'd forgotten how hot it was on Earth. The elements make themselves known and the climate is unpredictable. Back in Special Forces, we used to place bets on what the weather would be the next day. To those on Earth it would be a strange thing to do, but since the weatherman on PLANT is never wrong. Acclimatization to the Earth is relatively easy for the regular ZAFT soldier since they never stray far from the base, mobile suit or ship. The extra training for Special Forces was very hard though. Although coordinators are naturally fitter then the naturals it still takes plenty of training to get us up to standards, especially in jungles, deserts and tundra's, where as the PLANTs are all configured to have controlled temperate climates. The sun is bright too. I'll have to buy some sunglasses. I breathe in the warm humid air in distaste. I look around at the many static mobile suits, which await their masters for combat.

I need to find my contact, or rather he finds me. I feel hungry. I look at my watch; it's nine forty in the morning. I might be able to catch breakfast of some sort. I turn to someone who I think might know his way around here. He looks to be in his thirties with what looks to be a strong and solid build that makes him look quite wide even with his tall stature, underneath the light green overalls of a technician. He certainly wasn't on the shuttle with me just; there weren't any technicians with us on the shuttle. He reads over some papers on a clipboard.

'Hey!' I call to him. He looks up briefly from his clipboard and searches for where the voice came from, or wondering whether it was directed at all to him. He notices me, as he holds the clipboard by his side. He looks me over, probably deciphering who I am from the civilian clothing. He shrugs his shoulders at whatever his thoughts are.

'What can I do you for?' He says, trying to be cheerful.

'Do you know where I can get something to eat around here?' I ask.

'Rec' centre over there does some food.' He points to a large building over to his left. I glance over to where he points. About a few hundred metres away I can make out the clear glass entrance through the heat radiating off the black tarmac surface. The heat wouldn't be so bad if there was even a light and delicate breeze blowing, but Earth does not go easy on us outsiders so well.

'Thanks.' I nod to him. I turn away, sling my bag over my shoulder and walk briskly to the entrance. I should be looking for a contact from the local station. But then again they should be looking for me. I don't know my way around here, they should do, and they should also know that I arrived on this shuttle. Their fault if they're not here to meet me on time. I look up at the clear blue of the sky. I see a flight of seagulls flying overhead with squawk. I feel the heavy sun beat on my face and the back of my neck. I'm definitely going to have to do some shopping whilst here; sunglasses and sun block are a must. I can remember how badly sunburned I got whilst in Africa. It was worse if you got it on your shoulders and had to end up carrying a heavy Bergen rucksack for an entire days patrolling. No wonder the EAF made it a punishable offence to get sunburn, I believe they class it as self-harm, the punishment; thirty days in jail with no pay. The solution was something called P20. It was what soon became standard issue for Special Forces. The bronze liquid came in a bottle, which you'd spread over the skin evenly. The advantage of P20 over standard sun protection lotions, was that it would last all day, where as the other stuff wouldn't last that long or wasn't powerful enough against strong sunlight, providing you put it on about an hour before going out into sunlight. One problem I did find with it was that it would turn your skin slightly yellow, but once washed off (or rubbed off in some cases) it wasn't such a problem.

Although I'm sure I stand out amongst the uniforms, there should be some civilian contractors and workers on the base who wouldn't need to wear a uniform. I can blend in with them. I reach the clear entrance doors; they automatically slide open as I approach them. I pass through them and feel a great relief. The building has air conditioning! I feel the cool air cover my open skin. I take a look around; this place looks a lot like a shopping centre, actually it is a shopping centre. I recognise a number chain store names. It looks like you can buy anything here from clothes, cosmetics, to entertainment systems. They sure have it nice here, plenty of home comforts, they can't have much right to complain about being home sick. The only thing that doesn't make it look like a typical shopping centre; is that the ceiling is dark with high-powered lights giving illumination, instead of the usual glass roof that would bring in the colony's artificial light.

I see plenty of green uniforms prowling the place both on this level and on the upper level, with a few red uniforms dotted about as well as a few in civilian clothes. I casually walk down the centre, glancing left and right at the shops, mainly searching for a place to eat. A bit further on and I find a small place that looks like it I could get some breakfast. Just outside the entrance is a menu. I stand next to two soldiers as I scan through it. I look at my watch again, something didn't seem right.

'Excuse me, what time is it?' I ask the two soldiers. They look at me slightly confused for a moment. One of them looks at his watch on his wrist.

'Nearly two in the afternoon.' He replies 'Why do you ask?'

'I just arrived; need to set my watch to local time.' I explain. 'Thanks a lot.'

'It's our pleasure.' He says with a smirk. My mouth feels dry already; I could do with a refreshing drink now. Just a bit further down I see some sort of bar or drinks vendor. I step past the two soldiers and take a seat on one of the stools where the counter curves. I take the bag off my shoulder and drop it on the floor. Behind the counter is a woman serving two kids in technician overalls. I gesture to her with a smile and a nod. She comes over.

'What can I get for you?' She asks with a warm smile.

'Could you recommend something cool and refreshing?' I would usually go for a coffee to give me a get up and go I'll need, but the heat is getting to me

'Coke it is.' Sure, that'll do. 'And I suppose you'll want ice in that too?'

'Of course.' I smile and look around at my surroundings, keeping an eye out for my contact. I watch her she fetches out half a dozen ice cubes from a freezer and drop them into the glass. She then gets a bottle of coke from the fridge under the counter and pours it into the glass. She places the drink on the counter in front of me. This'll cure my thirst.

'That'll be two fifty.' Not too bad a price. I take out some change from my pocket and hand her the exact amount.

'Thanks.' I take a gulp of the cold and sweet liquid. I look to my watch; I need to set it forward by four hours. I play with the buttons to adjust the digital display.

'Are you a civilian contractor of some sort?' She asks. I finish adjusting the time and take a good look at her; she wears a purple shirt underneath a light green apron. She has short dark blue or black hair, and purple eyes.

'Yeah, sort of like that.' I hope she doesn't keep prying at me; otherwise I'll have to give her aggressive responses to stop her asking, and I don't want to do that to such a pretty lady. I take another swig of my coke.

'Say, you don't know if the Minerva has docked here yet, do you?' I ask.

'The Minerva...?' She folds her arms and stares at the ceiling for a moment. She gets back to me 'I think it has, I've seen a few new faces around here.'

'Say buddy.' A voice interjects. 'What interest would a civilian like you have with the Minerva?' It's the two technicians. The dark skinned one glares at me, whilst the other with an orange fringe just wolfs down a snack.

'And what concern would it be with you?' I fire a question back at them.

'We're crewmen from the Minerva.' He answers. If everyone on the Minerva is going to be this much of a shit with me, I'll have to rethink the operation.

'Oh right.' I say to him mockingly. I take another sip of coke. I stare at the wall to the right of the woman who served me, ignoring them on purpose. I can still see the pair out of the corner of my eye, the shit scowling at me.

'Are you a journalist?' The one with the orange fringe speaks with his mouth half full.

'Do I look like a journalist?' I narrow my eyes slightly, aimed at both of them.

'I don't know, are you a contractor?' He pries further.

'Sure.' I gulp down a little more of the coke, swallowing one or two half melted ice cubes.

'Mr Browning?' A voice behind me says. I freeze, and put the near empty glass on the counter. I shuffle myself around on the stool so I can face him. I'm greeted by a youngish man of perhaps my age, with combed back blonde hair.

'Yes?' I ask.

'Could I have a word with you?' He glances briefly at the two techs and the barwoman. 'In private?' This could be my contact.

'Sure.' I finish the last of my coke in one go, pick up my bag and follow behind him. He wears a creased striped shirt with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up, suit trousers and black shoes. He leads me to a door marked 'staff only'. He fetches out a key from his pocket and unlocks the door with a dull click. He pushes the door open.

'Hold it.' I order him. He hesitates for a moment, stops in his tracks and turns around slowly, looking slightly confused at me with his yellow eyes. 'I want to see your card.'

He sighs and digs into his pocket, fetching out his card. I take a look at it closely, apart from a few small details, it resembles my own. 'Marco Spence, at your service. Now I'd like to see yours Mr Browning?'

'All right.' It's my turn to get my own out. I repeat his actions. He examines my card, nods and smiles to himself with satisfaction.

'Glad we've got that cleared up, Caretaker Six.' He says, calling me by my codename. 'I'm taking you to the station, where you'll be issued your kit.' He passes through the door into a dark hallway, illuminated by a single bulb. I follow him through. 'Please close the door behind you.'

I do as he says and close it to, peering through the doorway. I see a few ZAFT but they take no interest, too busy joking amongst themselves. I follow him through another door and down a metal staircase, making a clang noise with each step. At the bottom of the stairs we come to another door, illuminated by another single, but this time, red bulb above the door. At the side of the door is a control panel. He pushes a switch, which makes a high-pitched squeak sound for a brief moment.

'Name and number please?' Says a slightly garbled male voice from a speaker above the control panel. He pushes a button.

'Spence, Marco. 'Two nine four four five zero.' He speaks into an intercom. He releases his finger off the button and waits.

'Confirmed.' Comes the reply.

He turns to me 'You're turn.' He pushes the button in for me. Though I've gone through this type of security clearance procedures before, I'm not sure what the six-digit number was that Spence had told the door. I take out my card to look it over, there's a six-digit number imprinted on the card. I decide to read it off.

'Browning, Jack. Two six one three seven three.' I answer.

'Confirmed. Input code please?' Comes the next command. I have no clue to what that could be. Spence steps forward and inputs the code on the keypad. The door unlocks with a loud clang, and a lower pitched whirring can be heard. He pushes the steel door open and steps through. I follow him into another corridor, this time better lit though. At the side of the corridor is a window that looks like a security station. Through the glass, I notice the arsenal sitting on the racks behind the suit sitting at his desk.

'Welcome to the Carpentaria Station.' Spence says. The suit looks up from his magazine briefly to study my face. He goes back to his magazine again.

'An underground facility?' I can't get over how corny this looks. The rumours are true; gremlins do exist in some dungeon for the intelligence services.

'Yes. Specially built for us. Usually we'd have our stations located in a local town or city. But there isn't one nearby, so we paid the builders a little more to construct this for us to use.' He explains. 'We're pretty safe from an attack in here. There's a regulated air supply, emergency food storage too.'

'Does ZAFT know about it?'

'Of course, don't worry about this place being bugged though. It's got some of the best counter intrusion devices installed. I tell you, it'll take more then an electric drill to get in here, more like a jackhammer.' Even so, watchers only have to keep an eye on the one exit. After stepping through another door, we come to a large room, filled with desks, computers, and busy drones. It reminds me of the operations room at Thursgood, only on a smaller scale.

'Do you all live down here as well?'

'Only the security personnel have to, the rest of us live in the residential buildings with ZAFT. But we always have a few officers here on standby. Come this way please?' He asks as we weaves between desks. I follow. Strangely enough this place is well lit, has a mild temperature, and a clean smell. As I was going down the stairs earlier, I had the image of this place being drab, illuminated by dim lights, too hot, and to have that rotten, musty odour. I'm impressed.

We step through yet another door. This room looks like a storage room of some sort. Sitting on shelves are various bits and pieces of, well everything and anything. Clothing, laptops, cameras, binoculars, night vision goggles, maps, compasses, watches, mobile phones, radio systems, etcetera. We work our way past the shelves to the end of the room, where we find a lone man well into his fifties, wearing a heavy brown workers overcoat, toying with the guts of a computer with thick workers hands, under the illumination of a desk light.

'Hello Johnny.' Says Spence. The grey haired man jumps slightly, looks to us cautiously. 'Have you got the kit for Caretaker Six prepared?'

'Yeah.' He says with short slur. He leaves the computer on the table, and walks over to a locker. He punches in a code slowly with his fat fingers, and opens it up. He pulls out a black shoulder bag, and places it on the table. He unzips it. I step around Spence to get a better look. 'It's all here.'

'What exactly though?' I ask.

'You've got a laptop computer to use to store data. You can also send and receive encrypted messages from Thursgood House or any of the stations. The messages can be decrypted and encrypted using the installed software on it.' I peer inside the bag; I can make out the laptop computer in a special bag for it inside the sports one. 'It's key code protected. When you start it up, it'll ask for a password; the password is…' He picks up a bit of paper. ' "One delta nine zero four alpha bravo two two quebec." Say it back to me.'

'One delta nine zero four alpha bravo two two quebec.' I repeat. He puts the scrap of paper into his pocket.

'It's important that you don't forget it.'

'Of course.'

'Once logged on, you can change the password if it becomes compromised. If you do get into problems, to destroy the hard drive there's a ring on the bottom of it underneath a sticker. To destroy it, pull the ring hard and the small explosives should destroy the hard drive. Just be careful where you put your hands if you do it, and not to pull it by accident, though I shouldn't worry about that too much, it takes quite a strong tug to do it. There's a PDA that can have tactical information from either the computer or a satellite uploaded onto it, like ground maps, GPS coordinates, etcetera. There's also a digital camera that you can also use to upload pictures onto the computer, and send them to Thursgood. It also works as part of your legend. There's a mobile phone with world network service, but unfortunately you can't get a hold of PLANT or Thursgood on it. Numbers for stations and emergency response are already set on it.'

'Do I get instruction manuals with all these?' I ask with concern. I'm not an idiot when it comes to computers or electronics, far from it. But I'm not the technical genius that designed, built, and decided on the astronomically high price for each of these gadgets 'Q' bestows on me.

'They all come in the box as new, manuals included. You also get a nine-millimetre pistol, three mags, a box of fifty soft point nine-millimetre rounds, a sound suppressor that you can screw onto the barrel directly without any other attachments, a cordura pancake type holster, and a double pistol magazine pouch, they should fit on your standard trouser belt no problem. Try not to have too much fun with it, ZAFT and the local police get a little nervous.'

'Of course.' It'll do. I think I can get away with the pistol, but the suppressor I'll have to keep hidden from ZAFT, if they find it they'll get jumpy thinking I'm some sort of an assassin.

'And you're legend to use when with the local populace is in there as well. Roger Sweeney, independent journalist from Copernicus City. Papers include passport, universal drivers license, and press card. Also, do please guard these with your life, it's taken quite a while to prepare this stuff?' He asks of me lazily as he picks up a clipboard with some papers attached to it. 'Sign for it please?' He holds the clipboard out in front of me in one hand and a pen in the other. I take both off his hands, read the document briefly, and sign at the bottom of it, then hand it back to him.

'Don't worry about it.' I say as I zip the bag back up and heave the heavy bag onto my right shoulder along with my rucksack. 'Is that it then? Nothing else?'

'That's it from me sonny.' Says the old man. He goes back to his computer.

'I've got nothing else to say. Except good luck.' Spence holds out his hand. I grasp it and shake it firmly with my own hand. He isn't that much of a pain in the arse. Certainly better then some of the dickheads I've had to put up with the past twenty-four hours.

'Thanks, can I make my own way out?'

'Sure, just shut the door behind you.' I don't really need reminding of that. As long as it keeps him happy.

'Of course, be seeing you.' I say to both of them.

'See you.' Spence waves farewell, Q doesn't, he just continues working on his computer. I make my way back, retracing my steps. Through the door to the large room, and back into the corridor towards the security station at the exit.

'I'm leaving now.' I tell the security man behind the bullet-proof glass window, he looks up from his magazine again.

'All right.' He says as he pushes a button. The dull whirring starts again; I pull the heavy door open. The whirring ceases, as I step through and close it behind me. If there's something I've forgotten to ask to Spence or Q, I better remember it before I reach the final door, once that doors closed, I'm going to have serious trouble getting back to them. I climb up the steps, trying to keep my bags from banging against the metal railings. I get to the top and open the door back into the drab corridor. I look behind me for shadows, there's plenty. It's not really shadows I need to look for though, it's those who hide in the shadows. But still, they might as well be shadows.

Last chance now, I open the last door. I step through side ways so that none of my bags would knock against the doorframe. I close the door behind me, and look about to see the virtually the same ZAFT soldiers from before. Though you can never tell. A uniform is a uniform at the end of it. My priority now is to get onboard the Minerva, but since I don't know my way around here I'll have to ask some of soldiers without drawing their attention too much that they start asking me the questions. I need to do some shopping first though, I'll think of something in the mean time.

I look at my watch; it's ten to three. I've spent the last three quarters of an hour increasing the burden on my right shoulder. I did a little shopping for some more bland looking civilian clothes. Nothing fancy, plain jeans, some lightweight walking trousers, a couple of dark plain t-shirts, and a pair of Oakley sunglasses. Other bits I picked up were a leatherman multi-tool, mini maglite torch, and a pair of Magnum boots.

I was able to stuff most of the items into both the sports bag and the rucksack, apart from the boots, as the box was too big. As the load on my arms and shoulders increases, the weight of my wallet lightens. I've given my card more then a decent workout today.

I finish the cheeseburger and coke quickly enough. I've always had a small appetite, so at least I can keep the cost of meals low. I still need to get the P20 sun block though. I stand up from the metal table, slide the complimenting metal chair under the table, and pick up my bags. I better go find a place that sells cosmetics of some sort.

I walk around between the civilian shop assistants stacking and the uniforms shopping for face cream or deodorant. Bad odour, bad breath, and dirt are no longer standard issue for regulars anymore. I browse over the shelves for the sun protection products. I find what I'm looking for eventually. I pick up a the box the stuff comes in, I look at the label quickly just to make sure, then I pick up another box. I might as well get two in case I'm at sea longer then I should be. I go to pay for them at the pay counter. There is a small queue of two girls, conversing with each other whilst one them has her goods scanned and weighed up. The one in the green uniform, red hair and pigtails finishes paying, collects her bags and dashes off to the sliding door exit quickly, sets her bags down and waits for her friend, the one in the red uniform and short pink skirt. It's more of a wide belt really, something to look at, if it's looking back that is. She drops her basket into the pile of baskets and the lady at the counter starts scanning her purchases. The girl in the red uniform has her back turned to me, her short purple hair shining from the lights overhead, I see her friend looking this way, I don't look back to her, I just stare off to nowhere. The girl in front hands a debit card over, she glances my way briefly, then looks back to the girl at the till. She hesitates for a moment before inputting her pin number for the card. She looks back at me again.

'Don't I know you?' She asks to me. My mind thinks back to where I could've met her. Click, the Minerva. I should've realised it sooner, it wasn't that long ago, but with so much going on the past week, I've had, and still have, too much on my mind.

'Sort of.' I tell her. She gets her debit card back and picks up her plastic carrying bags. She turns away and shrugs. A small plan forms in my head; tag along. 'We met on the Minerva a week or so ago.' I say rather too quickly, it makes me sound desperate. 'Just after it launched from Armoury One.' She turns around, looks at me blankly for a moment. Probably trying to remember exactly when and where. She raises her eyebrows and takes a short yet semi sharp intake of breath; it's not quite a gasp.

'Yes that's it!' She nearly shouts, almost too loud. I force a small and brief smile at her carelessness. Her expression hardens a little. 'What are you doing here though?' She asks, probably referring to the fact that Centre doesn't have jurisdiction outside of PLANT.

'Oh…' I hesitate a little. I know what she meant; the last she heard was that I was with Centre still. I ought to give her an answer; the trouble is how to word it. 'I've been promoted, as a matter of fact…' I take a breath '… I'm expected on the Minerva, are you heading there now?'

'Excuse me?' An annoyed voice to my right says. I turn my head; it's the blonde till lady. 'Are you going to pay for those or not?' She raises and eyebrow. I better pay for the stuff, then carry on my conversation with the pink wide belt. I hand the two boxes of P20 to the till lady. She finishes scanning both of them. I place the bag with my boots in on the floor, so I can get to my wallet easily. I get my card out and hand it to her; she puts it into the slot and moves the keypad a little nearer to me. I punch my four-digit number in. Transaction done. I get my card back, a receipt and another small plastic carry bag. I drop it into the larger carry bag, receipt as well; then pick the larger bag up. I don't get a smile from the till lady. I look back to the girl. She stands by the exit, talking to her friend with the pigtails. I edge a little close to them; I notice the one in pigtails steps behind the wide belt, almost in fear or apprehension of my presence. It isn't an obvious movement, but I notice it all the same. The wide belt also wears black stockings, she must be single, stockings are a myth and a rarity to single women, non-existent to those in a relationship. Nice arse too.

'As I said, are you heading to the Minerva now?' I ask them. 'See, I've just arrived and I don't know my way around here very well.'

'Can I ask you something?' The wide belt shoots back. I'm tempted to be a little bit of a smart arse to her, but that wouldn't gain much ground with them. I've already annoyed two techs from the Minerva, it isn't an idea to make as many enemies as I can, they don't help when I'm strung up. But it's difficult to make friends when you have to keep your mouth shut.

'Sure.'

'Can you explain the reason for you to be expected on the Minerva?' She inquires as she rest her knuckles on her hips.

'Only if we walk there whilst I explain, these bags are starting to strain my shoulder.'

'Fine.' She shrugs and sighs to my deal. They both start to walk off, passing the exit. I catch up keeping a little left and ahead of them, keeping watch at them in the corner of my eye.

'Do you want my life story or just the necessities?' I ask, looking straight ahead. I have to step a little slower and shorter then I normally would for them to keep up. They're both a little shorter then myself.

'I think we might find your life story a little boring.'

'Good, I didn't want to have to lie. As I said before, I've been promoted from the domestic service to the foreign service, similar job to the one before. I'd prefer not to but I can show you a card of proof if you like?' This is risky; I have to explain it to them without using words like 'DISC' or 'SSC', in public at least. We near the exit to the shopping centre; I squint at the sunlight coming in through the clear doors.

'I don't think it really matters.' She says.

'You don't believe me?' I ask as I step through the door way to the heat and bright sun of the outside. She remains silent. 'Which way to now?' I ask them, I've got no real clue where I'm going here, it's not that I'm useless at this, I could find out myself, but it'll take too long.

'It's this way.' She veers off to the left. I follow a little behind of the two, who walk side by side. These two could be related to each other.

'The full story, it's been suggested by the National Defence Council that the Minerva could do with outside assistance on "certain intelligence matters" So "our man Jack" was sent to help.'

'I see.' Says the one in pigtails.

'My name's Jack by the way, Jack Browning.' I tell them with a smile.

'Well, I'm Lunamaria Hawke, and this is my sister Meyrin.' Says the one in the pink skirt.

'I thought it when I first saw you two, that you're both related to one another. And what is it that you two do? Now I'm sure that you're a mobile suit pilot.' I point to Lunamaria. The red uniform is more then a give away, I had one myself, and I hated that uniform. The whole pretentiousness of it, very boastful and outspoken sort, thought they were gods. That attitude got many of them killed, the genius that thought up of the idea that they wore red must've had a sense of humour, since so many of them ended up as fodder. Good riddance I say.

'Yeah, that's right. I pilot a Zaku Warrior.' She says with a proud smile. I roll my eyes.

'I work in CIC. The Combat Information Centre.' Says Meyrin. It's true that children fight wars now. Maybe it's the pigtails but she doesn't look any older then fourteen.

'How long have both of you been in ZAFT?'

'Only a few months, the Minerva is our first posting.' Says Lunamaria. We tread on the hot, dry tarmac between mobile suit hangers with the Zaku types standing erect and tall just outside of them, as the technicians fiddle with the expensive toys in the blistering heat.

'Did you both join together?'

'Yeah.' That's good for them I suppose. At least there's one set of siblings in the world that can get along together with little dispute. I'd sooner throttle my own sister.

'Is this your first time on Earth?' I ask to keep the conversation going, providing that I ask the questions.

'Yeah.' Nods Lunamaria.

'How are you finding it?' I ask, recalling my first time on Earth, first time on Carpentaria too, and that was during the battle that took place to first construct this base.

'It's really hot here. So much warmer then home.' Sighs Meyrin as she wipes her forehead with her free hand. I feel the sweat building around my brow as well.

'Yeah I remember when I first came here, the heat, and the dust gets to you at first, but you get used to it after a while.' I assure her.

'That's good.' She smiles a little.

'When were you last here?' Lunamaria asks.

'About two or three years ago, during the war.'

'Were you in ZAFT then?' Meyrin digs for answers. I don't want to give too much away about myself, but it isn't the right technique to close myself off completely.

'Yes, I fought in tiger stripes for most of it.' I explain, hinting the Special Forces link. Tiger stripe camouflage was the issue to Special Forces during the previous war. The standard issue for ZAFT is the olive drab uniform that Meyrin wears.

I hear a roar of an engine of some sort from behind; it's distant but getting louder as whatever it is approaches. I look over my shoulder. It's not loud enough to be from one of the mobile suits on the ground. The noise gets louder. I look back to the two girls, they too have stopped and looking around for the source of the noise. It's a mobile suit, dark red in colour. It passes overhead. I look on with less interest then the two, who look on with blind astonishment.

'I've never seen that type before.' Gawps Meyrin, as she shields her eyes from the sun using her hand. Her sister does the same.

'Me neither, it looks like it's landing at the Minerva. Let's go see who the pilot is!' Lunamaria exclaims excitedly as she starts to quicken her pace. Her sister follows suit to catch up. I decide to hang back; I'm in no rush. I watch them, Lunamaria is out of sight before I know it, Meyrin stops and glances my way. She waits for me. I try to quicken my pace a little under the heavy weight on my shoulder. I catch up to her eventually.

'Thank you for waiting, at least one of you has a long enough attention span to remember me.'

'S-Sorry sir.' She stutters and droops her head shyly, being modest.

'Don't worry about it.' I assure her with a smile. She looks up, forces a smile on her face and nods.

'It's just here now.' She says. We cross the next corner and the enormous grey battleship comes into view. The gangway is just a few hundred metres away. MPs stand guard at the entrance to it, rifles at the ready. I feel a little sorry them, standing there for hours on end in this heat wearing a Kevlar, body armour, and a rifle slung over the shoulder. Serves them right though, should never had been an MP if they didn't want to do that, but it could be considered the safer option nowadays.

'Fuck this man, I want out of here, you know what we need? A fucking good banzai charge! Get at them with a bayonet on the end my rifle and stick into the natural fuckers cock, they'd squeal like a little piggy.' I hear a GI Joe in a squeaky teenage sound feign his toughness. As we get closer I see that he's a baby face with acne under the rim of the Kevlar. He couldn't be any older then Meyrin, however young she is. The military system is fubar.

'Shut the fuck up short ass, we've got visitors.' One of the older MPs scolds the boy soldier from his little hut at the side of the gangway. A sign on the hut say 'All identification must be shown!' in big, bold letters underlined too. They only way they could make it more clear is if it's in neon lights too.

'Yeah, yeah.' Moans the boy soldier. 'Can I see your identification please?' He sighs with boredom. Meyrin gets hers out and shows it to him, he takes it off her, has a quick look himself then hands it back to her. 'All right, you can go.' He says. Meyrin walks a few metres onto the gangway; the boy soldier's eyes follow her arse. I step closer to him, just so that I'm within one metre of him, invading his personal proximity. The GI Joe turns his head sharply, and jumps back in surprise. 'Who the fuck are you?' He almost screams, as he hastily gets his rifle in his hands. I offer him my card. He snatches it off me as if he's feeding some vicious animal. As he looks it over I can make out an eyebrow raised. He glances up at me and back to the card, and again, and again, trying to piece a puzzle together. He turns to his friend. 'Hey, come look at this?'

'What?' His friend shouts from the hut.

'You need to come look at this?'

'All right, I'm coming.' He steps out from the shadows of the hut into the blinding sunlight. Meyrin edges back towards me.

'Is there a problem sir?' She asks with some concern.

'Nothing to worry about, and you don't have to call me "sir".' I smile reassuringly. The two MPs crowd over the card. 'I'm expected on the Minerva, call the head of security, he'll see you right.' The older one nods, snatches my card from the little one and goes back to his hut. My attention turns back to the action man.

'So… are you James Bond or something?' He asks, cocking his head back so he thinks he's looking down on me. With his short size he shouldn't be too far off from breaking his neck with the bottom edge of the Kevlar.

'Something.' I answer. He sneers. I can hear footsteps approach from behind; quite close as I can hear them over the machinery making it's maintenance and repairs. I snap my head around to see a red uniform step past me and up to the boy soldier. He's only a kid himself, I remember him vaguely from before, the angry one who stormed past me in the corridor. He shoves his identification in front of the boy soldier.

'Hey, Meyrin.' The red uniform greets her.

'Hi Shinn, did you see that red mobile suit fly overhead?' She asks. The boy soldier nods and hands the identification back to Shinn.

'Yeah, I'm going to check it out.' He says nonchalantly. 'You coming?'

She looks at me for a moment then back to Shinn, deciding on whether to wait for me or carry on. 'All right, see you later, Jack.' She makes her mind up.

'Yeah, be seeing you.' I say, as they both walk swiftly down the gangway to the Minerva.

'Oh man, it's so fucking hot I can't even spit.' GI Joe says while scraping the sole of his boot on the tarmac, making a grinding sound between boot and loose bits of gravel. I roll my eyes and look away. After a minute or two passes I place my bags carefully on the hot tarmac floor, I flex my right arm out and making small circles in the air with a bent arm. That's a relief, to finally get that weight off my shoulder. 'Whatcha been shopping for then?' He motions with his rifle, still in his hands, towards my bags.

'Nothing that you'd be interested in.' I look past him. Meyrin and the red shirt are out of sight now.

'I bet that watch of yours shoots a laser right?'

'Shut it!' I snap at him 'You are never to mention that I was here to anyone.' I inform him with a sharp tongue. His eyes narrow and he scowls at me. 'I could have it that you'd be doing the guard shift here permanently. Do we understand each other?'

He grunts, and turns away, deciding to do a little patrol of about five metres in the opposite direction to myself, facing down the gangway. The older MP emerges from the hut.

'All clear sir, no worries.' He says as he hands the card back to me.

'Thank you.' I start to pick up my bags.

'What the fuck are you doing facing that way?' I hear the older MP bark. GI Joe spins around on his heels.

'Watching for any intruders.' Explains GI Joe.

'And where are intruders more likely to come from?'

'That way.' He points towards me.

'Then why are you facing the fucking opposite direction then?' The older MP shouts at GI Joe with frustration. I walk past them and onto the gangway. I smile whilst my back is to them. I start to snicker and laugh hard for the first time in a long while. Those two could be the next Laurel and Hardy.

I close the door behind me and drop all the bags on the bed. It's the same as it was before, grey, boring. Two beds, so I have the choice of what side of the bed I can get up from in the morning, some shelves for books or anything else. There's a desk at the foot of each bed as well as a complementary high backed chair, and a fixed slim line computer attached to each desk. The desks are covered with a light layer of dust. I brush my hand over it, making a clear mark. I look at my hand; it has a layer of dust on it. I brush the hand off with my other, beating them both together.

It was rather fortunate that the red mobile suit arrived on the Minerva at roughly the same time I did. It drew attention to itself; I was able to slip in with little trouble. I had to report to the security station first, where Brener met me again. We had little to say to each other, strictly business talk. He gave me a lecture on the what to do's, what not to do's, where I can go, where I can't. He was even nice enough to give me a little paper map of the ship so I wouldn't have to keep asking directions. I didn't think it would be of much help, though it did help me find my way to these quarters. Before I left, I was told that Captain Gladys wanted an audience with me later, just to explain it to her. I then asked a favour of him, the idea was to make my presence known here in a subtle way, nothing specific, just spread an instruction by whispers. 'There's a man in civilian clothes on the ship, you are not to ask this person questions, you are advised not to talk to this person unless he talks to you first. You must not hound or bully this person to who he maybe. Any problems? Take them to the Captain or XO.' This should quell people's open curiosity on the subject, but it most likely won't, for some it'll make them more curious.

I better unpack some of my things. I move all bags aside apart from my black sports bag I received earlier today. I unzip the bag, a little too much like a giddy child about to open his presents on Christmas morning. I'll take a look at the goodies Q gave me. I take out an opened cardboard box for a Nokia mobile phone, and place it on the bed. There's the box for the PDA, box for the Fuji film digital camera, the slim line bag with the laptop computer inside, the box of nine-millimetre ammunition, a sealed jiffy bag with what I presume is my legend documents, and at the bottom is a black plastic box with a carry handle. I open the plastic box up; inside the cutaway is a Heckler and Koch USP Compact, three magazines in their own cutaway as well as a sound suppressor. In the box loose is a pancake type holster and the double pistol mag pouch. USP stands for Universal Self-loading Pistol, a polymer pistol of German efficiency and reliability. Available in four calibres; nine-millimetre, forty Smith and Wesson, forty-five Automatic Colt Pistol, and three fifty-seven SIG. This comes in nine-millimetre, the calibre I prefer. Though the USP is nearly a century old design, it's still an excellent pistol even by modern standards. Old maybe, but even some in ZAFT still use the Glock for it's unique safe action trigger mechanism, I used one back in Centre, and I've heard that some units in the EAF still use the Colt Forty-Five, or at least one of the many copy's available, that design is well over one hundred and fifty years old now.

I pick the USP up from the box; it feels hefty in my hand. I examine it closely; the famous H&K markings are clear on the left of the slide. It's got the standard safety configuration, which is the safety/decoking lever on the left side of the pistol, to operate with them thumb on my right hand. It can come in ten variations to suit the needs of any shooter. I notice just inside the end of the barrel is a thread to screw on the complementing sound suppressor. It's got some wear on the safety lever, slide release, and the ambidextrous magazine catch. I grip it firmly in my right hand and I rack the slide to the rear against the power of the internal spring, flick the slide release up and hold it there as I let go of the slide, it stops as it gets caught by the slide release. I examine the empty chamber using the seven point check; front, centre, rear, front, centre, rear, front. Check and check again, safety first. I see no shine from any brass cases or rounds. I push the slide release down letting the slide ride forward under it's own steam with a snap. The bobbed hammer is cocked back, I test the decocking lever by pushing it down with my right thumb, the hammer drops but stops before hitting the firing pin. I pull the hammer back into the cocked position. I push the lever into the up position, activating the safety. I try to squeeze the trigger but it is as stiff as a rock. I deactivate the safety, and squeeze the trigger again, pointing the gun in as safe a direction I could point it, this time the hammer rams home with a distinct click. Well that works. Each of the three magazines can hold thirteen rounds, so in total that gives me thirty-nine shots if the shit hits the fan. The magazines also came with a choice of bottom plates, standard and another set with finger rests to help with keep a stable firing platform, it did compromise the compactness of the USP though. It all comes down to if I prefer conceal ability or better firing platform. I'll have to try it out on the range at some point. I take the cordura holster and stuff the pistol into it. It fits well, and the adjustable thumb break has even been adjusted to the USP's size. Like the USP the holster is also ambidextrous to either be worn on either side of the body. I undo my belt and slip the holster on the outside of my belt. I fasten my belt back up, and jump around a little it feels a little loose against my body. I know what I need to do. I remove the holster from my belt and put it back on but on the inside of my belt. It fits much better this time, more secure against my hip. It might be an idea to ditch the thumb break; I can see that it'll slow my draw down. I repeat the process this time removing the thumb break. Not bad, the belt on the outside of it also gives it retention against my hip.

I do a little practice draw, flicking back my jacket quickly, gripping the USP, and pushing it out in front of myself, whilst I adopt the two handed weaver shooting stance. That'll do. If the sound suppressor is attached, that slow my draw down ever more, it'll be like drawing a hand cannon. I take the holster off my belt. I attach the suppressor to the USP, screwing it on to the thread until it gets tight. I shake the pistol a little, looking and hearing for any wobbles. It seems ok. I remove the suppressor and put everything back into its box. I hear a buzz, it's coming from the door. I step to the door and press the button for the intercom.

'Yes?' I speak into it.

'Brener here sir.'

'What is it?'

'The Captain would like to see you now.'

There I sit in the Captain's room once more. This time with a Malt Scotch she offered me, as well as slimy executive officer Arthur Trine. The room is well lit. I notice a small tree growing in the corner of the room; I try to hold back a snicker, just creasing my face whilst lightly biting on my tongue. I feel that my kit has been left a little exposed in my room; I can't shake off this feeling that I've been lured away for someone to do some snooping. Even though I locked the door behind me, someone can just as easily hack into it. I didn't have any sellotape either, stick some on the corner of the door bridging it over the small gap between the door and the frame, if it's broken when you get back, it's a tell tale sign that someone's been intrusive.

'A promotion then?' She asks, possibly feigning her interest as she sits at her desk, facing me at an angle from her large chair.

'Something like that.'

'You're not the only one.' Arthur interjects rudely. I give him a brief glare whilst keeping my head stationary. I take a short sip of the Malt. I shouldn't though, not after the last time I drank alcohol. But I'm not that much of an idiot to pass up a free Malt Scotch.

'Arthur, step outside.' Orders the Captain, a slight hint of annoyance in her voice.

'Yes Ma'am.' He stands to and nearly marches his way to the door. I stay silent until the door closes behind.

'I sure do miss that parade ground manner.'

'I don't think you do really. I read you're file.' She says raising an eyebrow.

'If it's the one in the ZAFT archives, I'm afraid it's a few years out of date. Anyway, what did your XO mean by that I'm "not the only one"?'

'Not twenty minutes ago was I informed that I've been assigned a position as part of FAITH by the Chairman.' She sighs. I've heard of them, the Fast Acting Integrated Tactical Headquarters, or simply FAITH. A status awarded to members of ZAFT with impeccable war records and brilliant character qualities, reporting directly to the Supreme Council and the Chairman.

'Well, here's to your promotion.' I raise my glass to her.

'And yours.' She copies my gesture with her own glass of Malt.

'When I received a wire this afternoon saying to expect an SSC liaison officer to "assist and advise on certain intelligence matters", I didn't think it would be you.' She says, almost in disbelief.

'Well Captain I'm just here to help. Could I get a copy of situation reports as they come? Unedited of course and on paper.' Even a small minute details can be very useful. I don't want chopped up version with this and that blacked out because the military say that it's sensitive information. As for having it on paper rather then on a memory stick or CD is so that anyone can't secretly upload any spying software too look into and trace my system, however this means I'll have to copy the reports word for word from paper, then send them onto Thursgood.

'I suppose so.' She sounds almost reluctant. I take another sip of the Scotch from the glass, neat and dry.

'So who was it that arrived in the mobile suit a few minutes ago? I have to thank him for making my arrival less conspicuous.'

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.' She creases her face.

'I bet I've heard more unbelievable things then what you're about to tell me.' It's the strength that I deal in lies.

'Athrun Zala.' She says before she finally takes a gulp of her drink, downs it in one too. Coughs a little and scrunches up her face in disgust. 'Not really my drink of choice, a present from a beloved ex, but it's good when there's guests like yourself.'

'Re-enlisted?' I ask, referring to Athrun Zala's arrival here. She stares at the wall, her mind elsewhere.

'Hmm…? Oh yes, funny thing is that he went to Orb in the Saviour first, he didn't realise that they had joined the Earth Alliance until they opened fire on him.' She says with a small laugh. I don't reply, even I didn't know that. Orb had always adopted a neutral stance. This is surprising. I nod as I struggle a snicker, feigning that I did know and found the situation moderately humorous. 'We learnt the hard way too, after we first landed here. We docked at Orb for repairs, as soon as war was declared we were ran out with their military chasing us out and the Earth military waiting on the doorstep to ambush us. Can't say I'm surprised though. The Alliance is pressuring all of Earths nations to join them. A number of countries within the Eurasian Federation have declared independence because of the pressure. It's causing a number of insurrections across the Balkans and southern Eurasia.'

'I imagine the Kremlin are stamping down on them with their heels.' That would be the heel of a mobile suit.

'Quite literally. I read you've operated around Eurasia?' Going back to my file again. I can guess that it refers to the time when I was in Siberia and Afghanistan in the new year of CE71. I'm sure that she doesn't have the clearance to view my operations for Spectre Detachment.

'I've seen enough of it to know I wouldn't want to return if I can help it.' I recall some of the horrors and hardships I had to endure throughout the war in that cruel and unforgiving climate. 'What are your current orders?' I ask to take my mind off the memories.

'We're to support the ZAFT forces at Gibraltar in the assault on the EAF base at Suez.' As she tells me I nod along with what she's saying.

'EAF still have those mobile suits stolen from Armoury One?' I ask. She nods defeated. 'Thieving little bastards.' I curse under my breath. I finish the last of the drink and try not to slam the glass on her desk.

'I ought to be going now. Thanks for the drink, your ex has very good taste.' How tempted I am to say 'and I'm not just talking about the drink.' I keep my mouth shut.

'All right then, see you around.' She says, as I stand up and about to exit through the door.

'Be seeing you.'

Endnote: Section Seven completed. Too long? Well, it's the longest chapter yet. Please read and review. Now that I've started writing on some of the Destiny character, I need some constructive criticism on whether I've got their character about right or whether they're out of character. Although it's early days yet, early indicators can help me keep the characters on form. You can expect Section Eight very soon as I'm already halfway through writing it.