I don't own anything except Ken DiFalco, his team, and Sophia DiFalco

Archangel, Bridge, February 15th, C.E. 71
The Archangel's understrength crew had finally begun to relax, now that they had landed on Earth. After a day with nothing happening, they had begun to think that, perhaps, ZAFT had not detected their presence.

There was only a skeleton crew on the Bridge right now, consisting of Natarle, Neumann, and Chandra; after the long journey from Heliopolis, the crew needed a rest, before they burned out. With no obvious threats -and a fast reaction time- Murrue had felt they could -and must- take the chance.

Still, Natarle mused, I wish the replacement crew members hadn't gotten killed with the advance force; it would be nice to have at least a few more people to help carry the load. She was also concerned about Falcon. The pilot had left on his mission nearly twenty-four hours earlier, and hadn't made contact since.

She had no way of knowing that he was, at that moment, making haste to the Archangel... to warn them of an impending threat.

Natarle's musing was interrupted by the sound of something falling to the deck, and she looked up to see Neumann looking very surprised. Figures, she thought, amused. He'd attempted to set aside a drink container by simply letting go of it in the air... forgetting that they were now in a gravity well.

She stood, walked over, and picked up the container. "Ensign Neumann," she told him, "please try to remember that we're not in space anymore; Chief Murdoch and his people get annoyed enough with us line officers without our making the Bridge a mess, too."

Neumann smiled sheepishly. "I'll remember that, Lieutenant Badgiruel."

"Make sure you do." Natarle returned to the captain's chair, and glanced back at Chandra, who was currently occupying Communications. "I don't suppose there's any word from Commander DiFalco?"

"No, Ma'am, I'm afraid not. There's been no word since he left..." He consulted his display. "Twenty hours ago."

"I see." She shook her head. He'd better get back here soon, or he'll be asleep on his feet. She looked up as she heard the Bridge hatch open.

"Still no word, huh?" Sophia said, entering.

"No, Commander," Natarle answered. "Do you have any idea what could be keeping him?"

"No, unfortunately." The engineer-pilot shrugged ruefully. "Remember, Lieutenant, I'd barely even seen the guy for years; I'm not really sure how he operates these days."

"Vehicle entering outer detection perimeter!" Chandra suddenly called out. "Computer believes it to be Commander DiFalco's jeep!"

"Put it on," the two officers ordered simultaneously.

On the main monitor, the jeep appeared; Falcon's distinctive gray trench coat confirmed that it was him. It appeared to be moving at a high rate of speed, as well. "You never mentioned your brother drives like a maniac," Natarle commented dryly.

"I didn't know either," Sophia replied. "Again, I hadn't seen him much in years." She frowned. "I wonder just what's got him in such a hurry."

"I don't know; but I think we should open the vehicle hatch and let him aboard."

Falcon's jeep didn't even slow down as it shot up into the Archangel; his haste was even more evident when his face appeared on one of the monitors less than thirty seconds later. "This is Falcon," he called, controlled urgency in his voice. "Order all hands to Level One Battlestations."

Natarle, though unsure as to what was going on, did not hesitate to obey the higher-ranking officer's orders. "All hands to Level One Battlestations," she barked. "Repeat all hands to Level One Battlestations!" As the alarms began to blare, she looked back at Falcon. "What's going on, Commander?"

"A reliable source informs me that the Desert Tiger is on the move," he replied grimly. "He's headed for the Archangel with an undetermined number of BuCUEs and Agile attack helicopters. Tell Sophia and Mu to mount up." He paused. "How's Kira?"

Sophia leaned forward. "He's out of the Infirmary, but the Doctor says he needs a couple days of bed rest; he's in his quarters right now."

"Understood." Falcon frowned. "Knowing him, he'll head for the Strike right away; if he asks for launch clearance, either patch him through to me or tell him that he's not to launch, by my order. Understood?"

"Yes, Commander," Natarle acknowledged. She paused. "Can you handle that many enemy units by yourself?"

His response was less than encouraging. "Probably not; that's why I need both Skygraspers up, if at all possible. They're not ideal, especially against mobile suits, but they're what we've got."

"I'll be right out there," Sophia promised. Then it was her turn to pause. "I assume you'll be shooting to disable?"

An even longer pause from Falcon. "No," he said at last. "I've never fought in a gravity well before; I can't afford to try disabling attacks until I've adjusted to the environmental conditions."

His sister nodded in understanding. Sorry, little brother, she thought sympathetically. I know what this must be doing to you... She had a pretty good idea of how she'd feel if she had to fight the Earth Forces, after all. "I'll launch right away, Falcon."

"Good; Falcon out." The pilot's image vanished.

Moments later, Murrue entered the Bridge at high speed, followed closely by the rest of the Bridge crew. "What's going on?" she demanded, sliding into the chair Natarle hastily vacated. "Give me a report."

"Commander DiFalco just returned, Ma'am," Natarle responded, moving to her accustomed position in CIC. "He ordered Level One Battlestations, and reported that a 'reliable source' informed him that Andrew Waltfeld is on his way here, with an undetermined number of BuCUEs and attack choppers. He's also ordered Commanders La Flaga and DiFalco to launch at once."

Murrue nodded in agreement. "Very well; though I'm afraid Commander La Flaga's Skygrasper isn't quite ready yet." She paused. "Did he have any orders regarding the Strike?"

"Yes, Ma'am. He instructed that Ensign Yamato is not launch."

"Good." Kira's in no condition to fight; not after that last battle. "All right. Activate Igelstellungs, and load missile tubes."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Murrue silently cursed to herself. We got overconfident, after a day without activity; and now all we've got to defend us are two mobile armors -one of which isn't even ready for flight- and two mobile suits, both of which have pilots who shouldn't be flying right now at all. Kira was, to be sure, worse off; but she had no doubt that Falcon was suffering from a lack of sleep. The only good thing was that he was apparently accustomed to it.

Archangel, Hangar
Falcon had left the hangar only long enough to don his flightsuit; under the circumstances, he didn't expect to need it -they were in atmosphere, after all- but he also knew better than anyone the consequences of not having the Raptor's power supply hooked up during the battle.

Yeah, having a heart attack while I'm fighting would be a very bad thing, he mused, running over to his machine.

Murdoch caught up with him along the way. "You need any extra weapons this time out, Commander?"

Falcon shook his head. "Negative, Chief; in fact, I won't be using even the Death Blossoms, if I can avoid it. They can get airborne in a gravity well, but it'd be too power-intensive to make it worth it, under most circumstances." He paused. "In fact, when I get back from this one, see about removing the beam cannons, will you? I'll need to save power as much as I can anyway, and one thing I really don't need is extra weight. Against BuCUEs, I'll need as much mobility as I can get."

"Got it, Commander. Good luck."

I don't believe in luck, the pilot thought, ascending the zip-line into his cockpit. Except maybe bad; I've gotten enough of that in recent years.

Sophia entered the hangar shortly thereafter, once again in her blue and gold flightsuit. "Is my bird ready, Chief?" she demanded without preamble.

Murdoch shrugged. "It'll fly, if that's what you mean; but I wouldn't quite say that we've gotten all the bugs out of it yet."

"Too bad," she said coolly. "I can't wait for it to be perfect; and I've flown machines in worse shape. Get me out to the catapult as soon as I'm strapped in." The Kestrel glanced over at Mu, who was also entering. "I hear your plane's not quite ready yet," she called. "I'll try to keep them busy till you launch."

The Hawk waved a hand. "I'm sure you will, Kestrel. Between you and Falcon, you probably won't even leave any targets for me or Kira."

Sophia shook her head and began running to her Skygrasper. "Kira won't be in this battle," she said. "Falcon's orders; which I happen to agree with. So it's up to us."

"Murphy's Law," Mu said, resigned. "C'mon, Chief, and help me get this bird airborne; we haven't got time to mess around."

"Got it, Commander." Man, the mechanic thought. This ship is getting crowded with aces; at this rate, the ego will be taking up more room than the machines...

Archangel, Catapults
Falcon was tense- something that was fairly unusual for him, preceding a battle such as this. There was always the background fear, but he was only outnumbered about nine to one; had he still been with ZAFT, he would have found that hardly worth worrying about.

Unfortunately, the reason he wouldn't have been particularly worried was because he would have been facing mobile armors; clay pigeons for any half-ways decent mobile suit pilot, let alone one with his skill and experience. BuCUEs, on the other hand... While Falcon had never before fought in atmosphere, he had piloted BuCUEs a time or two, back in the PLANTs. That meant he knew what their weaknesses were; but it also meant he knew that they were very, very good at their jobs.

In a space model, he thought, going up against BuCUEs in the desert, my only chance to stay airborne almost constantly. That'll be a huge power drain, which means no Death Blossoms; beam sabers are probably my best bet. Falcon took several deep breaths, preparing mind and body for the coming battle. Don't take too long, Falcon, or you'll run out of power, become a sitting duck, and leave Archangel open to destruction.

That reminded him of the task at hand, and he keyed his radio. "Bridge, this is Falcon; tell me what we're up against."

"Nine BuCUEs," Mir responded, "and several attack helicopters; we still haven't got an accurate count on those."

"Not surprising; they're pretty small, and hard to detect by heat signature, anyway." Falcon shook his head. "Don't worry about the choppers; they can't do much to the Archangel, and nothing they have will hurt Raptor. It's the BuCUEs that will be the real challenge... especially if the pilots are good enough to be in the Waltfeld team."

"I see..." One of the few things that bothered Mir about her soft-spoken friend was his habit of calmly enumerating every single possible reason that they weren't going to make it out of the battle in one piece.

His habit of promptly going out and blasting the opposition to dust bunnies, on the other hand, more than compensated.

"Well," she continued after a moment, recovering her wits, "Raptor is connected to the catapult. You may launch when ready, Falcon."

"Understood. One moment." Falcon keyed his link with his sister's Skygrasper. "Kestrel, how are you doing over there? Ready for launch?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Sophia replied. "I've got the spare Launcher pack, so at least I'll be able to hit 'em hard... if I can hit them at all."

He raised an eyebrow. "Fought BuCUEs before, have you?"

"Yeah. And let me tell you, they're a pain in neck." She grimaced. "I wish we were fighting ZuOOTs; they're sitting ducks for anything, let alone a Skygrasper. Or even GINNs or CGUEs on Guuls. BuCUEs... they're just bad news."

"Tell me about it." Falcon switched back to his link with Mir. "Bridge, this is the Grimaldi Falcon. Raptor Gundam, launching."

He was echoed almost immediately by the Skygrasper pilot. "Victorian Kestrel, launching in Skygrasper 2."

The two machines shot out of the catapults, ready to do battle against the Desert Tiger.

Libyan Desert
On the outskirts of the soon-to-be battle area, watching his BuCUEs and helicopters approach the Archangel, sat Andrew Waltfeld, in his jeep; at his side was his protégé and second in command, Martin DaCosta.

"Well," he murmured, sipping at a cup of coffee, "it looks like the fun is about to start. They've launched one of their mobile suits, and a mobile armor..."

DaCosta squinted through a pair of binoculars. "Looks like one of the Earth Forces' new Skygraspers, and the Raptor," he noted. "Isn't that...?"

Waltfeld nodded. "Yes, Commander DiFalco's new personal machine. I hear he's a hot hand with it; not that I'd expect anything less." He took another sip. "A shame, really, what's about to happen."

DaCosta glanced at him. "Excuse me, Sir? What do you mean?"

"New instructions came in just after the Eighth Fleet was wiped out," his commander informed him. "Standing orders regarding Commander DiFalco have been modified. We're not even supposed to try to capture him anymore; now our orders are shoot on sight." He smiled slightly. "Though to be honest, I think that might prove slightly difficult."

The younger man nodded in agreement. He'd never met DiFalco in person, but he knew the man's reputation; and judging from the trouble he'd been causing lately, that reputation was by no means undeserved. "So what do we do, Commander?"

"We try to swarm him with BuCUEs," Waltfeld said simply. "And hope they take their time launching the Strike; bad enough to be facing one Phase-shift-equipped machine at a time."

Falcon used a fine touch on Raptor's verniers to bring it to a soft landing on the desert sand; he didn't yet trust his footing enough to risk anything harder. "Got a tallyho on the bandits," he called, checking his detection screen. "Watch yourself, Kestrel."

"Same to you, Falcon," Sophia replied, circling overhead in her Skygrasper. "I see the choppers," she added a moment later. "Shall I go and play with them?"

"That would be the polite thing to do," her brother agreed. "While you're busy playing tag, I'll try and keep those BuCUEs on their toes."

"Got it. Good luck."

Watching Sophia fighter pull away, toward the helicopter, Falcon sighed. "I'll probably need it," he muttered. "Never thought I'd ever have to know how to fight in atmosphere..."

Then there was no more time for talk. The first of the nine BuCUEs was upon him, and it was time to see if his reputation was really deserved or not.

He immediately used one of his primary advantages, taking to the sky in a blaze of thruster wash. Beam saber time, the one-eyed pilot thought. Too many uncertainties to use the rifle in atmosphere for now; I don't know how the air will effect it.

Maintaining hover at an altitude of a little over a hundred meters, Raptor drew a beam saber in one smooth motion, presenting the blade of frozen fire as a beacon against the night sky. The its pilot keyed his radio, opened his mouth, and uttered his trademark ascending wail.

The pilot of the lead BuCUE hissed. "So it is you, Grimaldi Falcon," he snarled angrily. "You know what the penalty for treason is, don't you?"

"Death," Falcon replied. "I haven't forgotten; nor will I. However... I must inform you that I haven't actually committed treason at all."

"Oh yeah? Then what do you call killing those pilots at Heliopolis?" the BuCUE pilot challenged. "What do you call helping the Earth Forces, huh?"

"ZAFT betrayed me before I betrayed ZAFT," Falcon replied coldly; now he was trying to keep the enemy talking as long as possible. A stalling tactic. "If you knew just what ZAFT has waiting in the wings to unleash against Earth, maybe you'd be fighting with me, not against me... Unless you're one of those who thinks that the objective is the subjugation of the Naturals?"

"What else could it be?"

"The objective, comrade, is the protection of the PLANTs." Raptor waved its blade in a warning gesture. "That doesn't require conquering the planet."

"But it would work, wouldn't it?" Then the pilot stopped himself, and realized what the "traitor" was trying to do. "Enough, 'Commander'; your words won't stall us any longer!" The BuCUE, capable of mighty leaps, sprang up at the Gundam.

Falcon shook his head sadly. Impetuous youth, he thought to himself, oblivious to the fact that the pilot in question was probably older than he was. Too bad it's getting you killed. He readied himself for the attack...

What he was not prepared for was gravity. Accustomed to battle in the vacuum of space, Falcon had intended to allow the BuCUE to hit him, which -in space- would have knocked him backwards, but done no real harm to the PSA; it would have given him the perfect opening to eviscerate the unlucky pilot. What he had not reckoned with was the fact that, on Earth, the blow destabilized him, allowing gravity to take over and bring him to the ground.

"You shoulda known better than to take a space model up against our BuCUEs in the desert," the pilot sneered. "The only thing worse than a traitor is an incompetent trait-"

He never finished the sentence. A blade of pure energy slashed upwards from where Raptor lay in the sand, cutting the front right quarter of the machine away... including the front right quarter of the cockpit and pilot. "I may be new to fighting in a gravity well," Falcon said through gritted teeth, "but I'm a fast learner."

Sophia flashed by, tossed him a salute, and shot away again, casually blasting a helicopter with her beam turret on the way by.

Waltfeld inclined his head. "He's good," he said grudgingly. "I didn't expect him to take down one of our men that fast." He smiled to himself. "But he won't have it that easy again. He may be a fast learner, but so are our people, and they only have to learn how to fight the machine, not the terrain."

DaCosta nodded in agreement. "We haven't lost yet. But... that mobile armor's paint scheme... seems familiar..."

"I know." The commander frowned. "Unless I'm greatly mistaken, those are the Victorian Kestrel's colors. And I shouldn't be mistaken; I fought against her at El Alamein." He shrugged. "In any case, it's only one mobile armor; I expect the losses among our helicopters will be ruinous, but the only real threat to the BuCUEs right now is that suit."

"What if they launch the Strike?"

"That," Waltfeld admitted, "could be a problem. On the other hand, they haven't done so yet; which tells me they can't or won't, for whatever reason. And even if he does launch, well... I highly doubt its pilot will be able to adapt as fast as DiFalco; there aren't many pilots like him out there." He smiled again. "And, from the looks of things, there might be one fewer pilot of his skill by daybreak."

Falcon allowed himself a curse. As he'd feared, the Waltfeld team's pilots were no rookies; they knew exactly how to use their BuCUEs like extensions of their own bodies, and, worse, they knew exactly how to fight in the sand. So far, using those advantages, they'd managed to keep him very busy; most of his time had been spent using short, boosted hops to stay ahead of the game without using the power extended flight would have required, or risking falling over in the sand again.

He'd just begun another hop when his radio beeped at him. "Falcon," Mir called urgently, "Kira is requesting permission to lift off. What do I-?"

"Tell him permission is denied," the ace snapped, leaping away from a BuCUE's missile barrage. "He's in no condition to head out here."

"Roger that. I-"

Mir's face disappeared, replaced by Kira's. "What are you talking about, Falcon?" he demanded angrily. "I should be out there! You can't handle it all by yourself, and if more people die because I couldn't protect them...!"

"Stuff it, Ensign," Falcon replied irritably. "I saw how you looked after your bout with reentry heat, and I'm telling you, as your superior officer and a veteran of some very nasty wounds, you have no business flying so soon after leaving the Infirmary. Have I made myself clear?"

Whether Kira agreed with him or not became irrelevant almost instantly, as a trio of BuCUEs took advantage of Falcon's split attention and attacked from three sides.

The pilot cursed as the barrage of missiles and railgun fire tore at him. His saber managed to cut down some of the missiles, and his shield caught the bullets, but his PS still took a beating. This isn't good, he thought, growing more concerned by the moment. I can't afford to run out of power, not now...

Deep within his psyche, pressure began to build...

"Falcon," Murrue broke in, "I think you should reconsider. I don't like his attitude -or his condition- but we need everyone out there we can get."

Falcon cursed silently. "Fine," he said, struggling to maintain his usual toneless voice. "But Kira, you and I are going to have a little talk when all this is over."

"You have to survive it for you to chew me out," Kira pointed out. He no longer sounded angry... but he did sound determined in a way that set off warning bells in his mentor's head. "All that matters is defeating the enemy before they hurt anyone," he added, exiting the catapult as though shot from a cannon; his Strike carried the other Launcher pack.

Kira pointed out. He no longer sounded angry... but he did sound determined in a way that set off warning bells in his mentor's head. he added, exiting the catapult as though shot from a cannon; his Strike carried the other Launcher pack.

Falcon looked at him sharply, while boosting straight up. "That's not like you, Kira," he said slowly. "Just who have you been talking too since I left last night?"

A pause. "Flay and I... uh... talked last night," Kira said finally, sounding awkward.

The ace had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something very obscene. "Talked", is it? I think you did rather more than talk, Kira... and I get the feeling I'm going to have to spend a lot of time straightening you out. Not to mention keeping a very close eye on Flay... Well, no time to worry about it now.

"Go after the BuCUEs," Falcon told his protégé, "and watch yourself; they're better in the environment than we are."

"Got it." Kira began to cautiously move out... though not as cautiously as the older pilot would have preferred, under the circumstances.

Falcon switched to his link with the Archangel. "Bridge, what's Mu's estimated time till launch?"

Murrue sighed. "Still a few more minutes, I'm afraid; Skygrasper 1 has a few more bugs in it than Sophia's machine."

"Figures," he muttered. "I'd ask Murdoch and his people to expedite, but they probably already know that... All right. Keep me posted. Falcon out."

Waltfeld smiled to himself. "They've finally launched the Strike," he murmured. "Good; and better yet, its pilot doesn't seem to be doing as well in the sand as his boss."

DaCosta nodded, watching as the Strike's first tentative steps into the loose sand were interrupted by a leaping BuCUE. "It looks like he didn't expect any problems at all," he observed. "Is he really that inexperienced?"

"Overconfident," Waltfeld opined. "He waltzed right through the Le Creuset team in space; it probably didn't occur to him to consider just how different conditions are in the desert, and how that affects battle strategy. We've got a chance to take him, here and now, thanks to that." He paused. "Unless DiFalco intervenes."

He didn't think DiFalco was in a position to do that just now, though; Raptor was beset by three BuCUEs and a pair of helicopters. As he watched, one of the choppers succumbed to a hyper-impulse shot from the Kestrel's Skygrasper, while the other suffered a lethal dose of lead from Raptor's Igelstellungs, but he was still outnumbered by the BuCUEs.

As far as Waltfeld could tell, it was only a matter of time before Raptor went down... especially since, according to his calculations, it only had a few more minutes of PSA and weapon energy left.

Of course, it was the Grimaldi Falcon; if the stories about the Bloody Valentine were true, he might have another card up his sleeve... assuming he was even aware of it.

Falcon snapped of a shot from his beam rifle -currently held in his left hand, with the shield clipped on slight higher on the arm- and so convinced a BuCUE to back off for several seconds, in addition to placing it right in another's line of fire.

That gave him enough breathing space to check on Kira. "How are you doing, kid?"

"Could be better," Kira grunted, leaping backwards; once again, he slipped, but this time he managed to duck the leaping BuCUE. "I can't keep my footing in this sand!"

"Adjust your OS settings," Falcon advised, realizing finally the solution to his own problem. "Reprogram the contact pressure..."

"...To compensate for the granularity of the sand." Kira nodded, swinging down his keyboard. "Got it, Falcon; thanks."

"No problem." The ace fired off another shot to keep his opponents busy, and set to work modifying his own OS. Okay, Mr. Hacker, time to find out just how quick you can convince a program to do something it wasn't intended to do...

"Falcon," Mir called, breaking into his thoughts, "Commander La Flaga's Skygrasper is ready for launch."

Falcon nodded, feeling some of his tension dissipate. "Good. Tell him-" He broke off, as his display brought something to his attention. "Never mind. Patch me through to him directly."

"Roger that."

Mu's helmeted visage appeared on his screen. "What is it, Falcon?"

"Trouble," the one-eyed pilot told him. "We've got a laser designator pointed at the ship; probably a land battleship, somewhere beyond the battle zone. Since Andy Waltfeld is out here, I'm betting it's the Lesseps."

The Hawk cursed. "Figures. All right, I'm heading out; but I don't have a Striker pack equipped, so I won't be much good against the BuCUEs."

"I know; but we need someone to find that ship, anyway." Falcon juked left, narrowly avoiding a shot from a BuCUE's railgun. "Try and locate it, and give him something else to worry about, will you?"

"On it, Falcon." The second Skygrasper shot out of Archangel's catapult, and Mu La Flaga went hunting for the enemy's mothership.

Okay, Falcon thought. Now that we've got everything airborne -except the ship- we've got at least a minuscule chance of pulling this off. So, Mr. Brilliant Strategist, what next?

He wasn't too sure about that. Every one of his battle plans from when he was still with ZAFT had factored in engaging superior numbers; but back then, he'd been facing inferior machines. When he had two mobile armors and two mobile suits against eight mobile suits... things got a little trickier.

Well, no help for it; all he could do was try to prove that his reputation was not undeserved.

Meanwhile, Kira had finally gotten his footing; and now he was angry. "Leave me alone," he hissed as a BuCUE jumped at him. He dodged to one side, reached out with the Strike's free hand, and caught the four-legged machine's right forefoot. "Have some of this!" One handed, he swept the Agni around put a hyper-impulse blast right through the BuCUEs cockpit.

"We may have a problem," Waltfeld commented, almost to himself. "The Strike pilot adjusted to the sand a lot faster than I expected."

"But we still have the advantage in numbers, sir," DaCosta pointed out. "The BuCUEs outnumber them seven to one, and the helicopters..."

He trailed off, and his commander smiled humorlessly as he saw the reason why. "The helicopters are no match for the Victorian Kestrel, apparently," he said, almost casually, as the last Agile exploded. "Make a note of that, DaCosta: Agile-class attack helicopters are virtually useless against the Earth Forces' new fightercraft."

"Yes, sir."

"On the bright side," Waltfeld went on, "I don't think that machine has much fuel left; she'll have to land soon enough."

"Sorry, Falcon," Sophia called to her brother, after checking her fuel gauges. "But I can't keep it up any longer; I need to land and refuel."

"Understood." Falcon didn't allow his annoyance to taint his voice. "Hurry back; this is one nasty furball."

"I will." Can't do anymore good up here, she thought bitterly. I really need to get a mobile suit one of these days; better endurance, more firepower.

Her brother was sorry to see her go, but he also knew her firepower wouldn't make much of a difference against BuCUEs anyway. Kira and I will just have to make do.

Of course, Sophia wasn't the only one with endurance problems right now; a quick glance at his display showed his own power levels growing dangerously low. "Blast it," he muttered. "This is taking too long..." He leapt backwards, firing off another shot from his beam rifle, and skirted sideways to avoid another charging BuCUE. These guys do seem to like contact sports, don't they?

Kira had his own problems, but he was starting to get a handle on them. His destruction of that one BuCUE had infuriated its fellows, to be sure; but, as Falcon had taught him -in reference to Yzak Joule, but it held true here, too- an angry opponent made more mistakes... and he did have heavier firepower.

Then one of them came at him from behind, and he realized he'd let himself become overconfident again. The BuCUE knocked the Strike to the ground, forcing him to roll sideways to avoid another attack.

"Not good," Kira muttered. He fired the Agni three times in quick succession, missing with every shot, and was forced to jump again to dodge the machine's return attack. "Why won't you just...!"

The two G-weapons were now heavily embattled; Kira had two BuCUEs coming after him, while Falcon had all five of the others engaging him simultaneously. If something didn't happen, and soon, the Archangel was going to be down two mobile suits in very short order.

Archangel, Bridge
"Isn't there anything we can do to help them?" Murrue demanded in frustration.

Natarle shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Captain. The fighting is taking place in such close quarters that we'd risk hitting our own machines, as well; and I don't think Commander DiFalco would be very happy about that."

The Captain reluctantly nodded. "I'm sure. What about Commander La Flaga? Has he found the ZAFT mothership yet?"

Mir consulted her displays. "Not yet, Captain; but he's following the track of the laser designator, so it should be only a matter of time..."

"Time we don't have. What about Sophia?"

"Still refueling and rearming."

Murrue cursed to herself. We've come all the way to Earth, survived the sacrifice of the Eighth Fleet, and avoided burning up on reentry, only to be swarmed under by the Desert Tiger and his BuCUEs. There must be something that can be done about this!

"Ma'am, the Strike is..."

Mir didn't have to finish her report. Murrue could see for herself that the Strike had one BuCUE in front, one behind, both ready to rip into him; and according to telemetry, his power levels were dangerously low.

"Ready the Gottfrieds," she said at last. Ignoring Natarle's sharp intake of breath, she continued, "I know it's a risk, but if we aim carefully, the Strike should be fine. Besides... we don't have any other choice."

Libyan Desert
Murrue's drastic action proved to be needless. Realizing himself the odds against him -and what would happen to the Archangel if he was defeated here- the pressure finally reached the breaking point in Kira's mind. Behind his eyes, an amethyst seed burst, and the result -as far as the BuCUEs were concerned- was utter chaos.

The Strike ducked as the pair of desert-adapted machines lunged for him at the same moment, then rolled aside as the BuCUEs collided in midair, falling in a tangling heap of metal limbs. He jumped back anther dozen meters, and raised the Agni.

"Take this!" Kira shouted, and fired the powerful energy weapon. Blast after blast poured from its muzzle, creating a tremendous flare of light and coherent energy, utterly annihilating the BuCUEs; not even a scrap was left when the light faded.

Unfortunately, the light wasn't the only thing that faded. In his anger and determination, Kira had used far more energy than he should have, and the Strike's Phase-shift went down... along with his weapons.

And Raptor was still beset by five BuCUEs.

Waltfeld's eyebrows had both gone up nearly to his hairline. "Incredible," he whispered. "One mobile suit did all that..."

DaCosta was similarly stunned. "He's fast..."

"But he miscalculated," the Tiger murmured, coming to grips with the sight. "He took out those two, but DiFalco still has five going after him; he may have won the battle but lost the war, if you know what I mean." He smiled to himself. "Okay, Commander, try and find a way out of this jam... if you can." Personally, Waltfeld wasn't convinced that even the great Grimaldi Falcon could fight his way out of the situation he found himself in now; especially when his power levels were almost as low as the Strike's.

DaCosta concurred with his commander's silent assessment. "Based on what we know of those machines," he commented, "and the energy he's expended so far, Raptor only has ten seconds of Phase-shift and weapon power left." He started to smile. "I think we may have won, sir."

The smile never finished.

Falcon cursed his inexperience. Had this been a space battle, the ZAFT pilots would have been little better than clay pigeons as far as he was concerned; but in a gravity well, he was fatally out of his depth.

Seconds seemed to take hours, as the enemy prepared to attack him, and he tightly gripped his controls. And so it ends, he thought, feeling almost detached. I hope Sparky can finish the rest; because my time is up. I guess I'll never return to the PLANTs, after all...

Then, from the depths of his memory, Falcon heard a voice.

"Get out of here, Falcon, before it's too late! There's nothing more you can do..." A cough. "That nuke's about to hit, and I'm not getting out of here. You've got to make it... and make sure this never happens again. Don't let our -my- sacrifice have been in vain..."

The five BuCUEs came at him from five different angles, and the pressure in the deep reaches of Falcon's psyche built to the point where it burst.

Behind the eye of the Grimaldi Falcon, a Prussian blue seed exploded as though it were a nuclear device.

To the astonishment of all watching, Raptor suddenly bent toward the ground, pointed rifle and beam cannons at the desert floor, and deployed all four Death Blossoms. Then all seven energy weapons fired at once... into the ground.

The resulting shockwave blew the BuCUEs backwards, even as a tremendous flare of green light obscured Raptor from view. They landed on their backs, just outside the column of green fire... and then blades of scarlet fire stabbed out of two points in the circle and began to whirl around.

The circle of scarlet flame they formed became a tornado, ripping through the fallen BuCUEs as it shot straight up into the air; they went soaring even farther away, literally flying to pieces as they went. Blue metal filled the air like chaff.

And then, emerging at the top of the fading column of light, Raptor spread its arm wide, holding the now-ignited beam sabers at arm's length to either side; and the inhuman, ascending wail of the peregrine falcon echoed over the radio and across the desert.

The resistance fighters' vehicles had arrived shortly before the Strike made its final assault, but, despite their original intentions, they never opened fire.

Instead, they stared in disbelief at what had just occurred. How is that... possible? Cagalli wondered, dumbstruck. If the machines Morgenroete built for the Earth Forces can do something like that... ZAFT doesn't stand a chance. And neither does Orb, if the Alliance gets pushy.

That thought would have worried her more if she hadn't had the suspicion that the Raptor shouldn't have been able to do what it had just done. The specs Falcon had shown her at Heliopolis -which even now she believed to be genuine- indicated that such a maneuver would be possible only for a truly exceptional pilot... and would put tremendous stress on the machine's frame.

Since the Earth Forces didn't have any pilots of that one's caliber -she was not yet aware of just who the pilot was- and wouldn't want to risk their machines to such an extent, even if they did, it probably wasn't as bad as one would think from what she'd just witnessed.

But seeing such a thing was still almost a... profound experience.

That's got to be DiFalco, Cagalli thought, gazing at the machine; as she watched, its Phase-shift finally went down, and its beam sabers vanished into their hilts. I never heard of anybody else pulling anything like that; and I remember the stories of the Bloody Valentine.

"Cagalli," Sahib called, breaking into her thoughts. "I think perhaps it's time we went over to talk to these people; what do you think?"

She nodded, still feeling a little shell-shocked. "Uh, yeah..." The battle was clearly over, after all. And besides... if DiFalco... if Falcon was right about that ship being willing to work with us, we could end this stalemate with the Desert Tiger a lot faster than we thought possible...

Martin DaCosta gaped at the scene before him; and even Andrew Waltfeld was taken aback by the spectacular event that had left afterimages in his eyes. "Commander..."

"I know," Waltfeld replied, staring at the now-powerless Raptor. "I'd heard the stories about Junius Seven... but even I never expected him to pull a stunt like that. According to the information Zala and the others brought back from Heliopolis, that move must have stressed Raptor to its limits; not to mention pulling enough G forces to knock a normal man unconscious."

"What do we do now, Sir?" DaCosta asked.

"We retreat," the Tiger said wearily. "No choice, with all our BuCUEs and helicopters gone. All we could do now is throw rocks, and I think those two mobile suits could hold that off even without Phase-shift." He shook his head. "Well, at least we learned something; but now it's time to return to base. There's nothing more we can do here right now."

Archangel, Bridge
"Commander La Flaga is returning, Captain," Mir reported, still sounding mildly stunned. "He located the ZAFT ship, and confirmed it to be the land battleship Lesseps, but says it would be unwise to engage at this time. The ship is heavily defended."

"Tell him we acknowledge," Murrue replied absently. "Also inform him that there are no longer any enemy forces at our location."

"Yes, Ma'am." Mir paused. "Uh, what do I tell him happened, if he asks?"

"Tell him he'll have to see the battle data for himself... and that he probably won't believe it any more than we do."

"Understood."

"What the blazes was that flash?" Sophia demanded, stepping onto the Bridge. "What happened out there? I'm busy refueling, and then there's this bright flash from outside the ship, and Chief Murdoch tells me not to bother heading out again, and- What in the world?" She stared at the main display. "Would somebody mind telling me where all those BuCUEs went?"

Natarle cleared her throat. "The Strike vaporized two of them with the Agni, and then Raptor... took care of the other five..."

"How?" the pilot demanded.

In answer, Murrue punched up visual records from the last few moments of battle. "Take a look; maybe you can make more sense of that than the rest of us."

Sophia watched it in silence; but her increasingly-slack jaw told the tale of her surprise. "That's incredible," she whispered. "And what's more incredible, he did it without shaking Raptor to pieces..." Hyper Berserker...

"We've got a message coming in, Captain," Kuzzey called. "From that group of vehicles that arrived just before... whatever just happened. Their leader wants to speak with you; he says Commander DiFalco suggested a conference might be in order."

Murrue turned, finally distracted from the battle's spectacular end. "Well," she said slowly, "that explains why Falcon was late; he must have been setting up a meeting." She glanced at the two other officers present on the Bridge. "What do you two think?"

Natarle thought for a moment. "It might be worth looking into," she said finally. "I wouldn't recommend trusting them too far at this point, but if Commander DiFalco says it's a good idea... I'd be inclined to trust his judgment."

"Concur," Sophia agreed. "My brother didn't get his reputation for nothing. This might not turn out to be of any use... but on the other hand, it might." She nodded at the BuCUE remnants out beyond the ship. "Besides, if we've got the Desert Tiger after us, we could use all the help we can get."

"All right." Murrue turned back to the forward viewport. "As soon as Commander La Flaga has returned, we'll go see just what Falcon has been up to."

With luck, our chances of reaching Alaska just went up.

Author's note: Andrew Waltfeld's BuCUEs have met the Archangel's forces, and been annihilated; in part by Falcon's unexpected demonstration of sheer skill. Now, the resistance fighters have entered the equation… and the seeds of Raptor's ultimate end have been sown…

Ominae, if, by "possible flame", you mean the girl from Falcon's photograph… let's just say you're on the right track, in a manner of speaking.

Infinite Freedom, I understand now what you meant; but the only time there would be any point to Tempest using an underwater mobile suit against the Archangel would be during their journey across the Red Sea and Indian Ocean. If you'll recall, the original Forbidden hasn't yet been deployed at that point, so I highly doubt the Blue variant -or the Deep, for that matter- would be developed at that point. No, I have… other plans for Huckebein the Raven.

As you can see from this last chapter, the Death Blossoms do have atmospheric capability, but Falcon won't be using them very much, because of the amount of power required to keep something with no lift characteristics airborne.

Yes, the Preybird will have the twin satellite cannon; having rad up on Gundam X over the last week or so, I find it a most intriguing idea, so the machine will have it. (Matter of fact, I kinda wish I'd thought up the Preybird for use in A Call to Arms; the thought of what Kevin Walker might do with it… or the Gundam Double X, for that matter; but I imagine people probably wouldn't be pleased if I gave him another existing machine, instead of an original one for a change.)

You guessed right about Tempest's next machine, as it happens; but as to the Dreadnought, I honestly haven't decided yet. From what I've read of it, that's certainly a possibility, but I have no idea at this point what it will actually be. Fortunately, I have plenty of time to think about it.

Deathzealot, I hadn't thought of giving Mu's Skygrasper a custom paint job, but now that you mention it… it's something to think about, for sure. (Thanks for sending me that link, by the way; I just might have to check that out.)

Red Eyed Divine Dragoon77415, let me simply say that your guess is on the right track. As with many other things, I already have just the scene planned out for it…

Guy that demands Astrays, thanks for reviewing… but I'm not exactly sure what you're talking about. Unless my memory is extremely faulty, there were quite a few Astrays in the series; unless you're talking about the three prototypes. If the latter, I will say that Lowe Guele -or however his name is spelled- will be appearing at some point; for one thing, he'll have a small contribution to Falcon's next machine.

Rau Le Creuset 88, thanks for the suggestion; I'd noticed that particular GINN variant before, but MAHQ's entry doesn't have any details about it. Sounds like the perfect machine for Tempest to use during the journey to Orb, assuming it's in production by then (of course, I'm not sure the DEEP Arms was in production by the time I had it appear, but did it anyway, so I guess it doesn't really matter).

I'm pleased you like the character, by the way; though I'm sure you know that Falcon is going to kill him one of these days. And not in a mobile suit…

ZGMF X-19A Infinite Justice, as you probably expected they did not remain safe for long; and, of course, there'll be another battle before too long…

NukeDawg, glad to see you're able to review again; I get the distinct feeling I'll be reviewing yours again before too long, since I had a story alert when I logged on.

Anyway, as I said before I won't give any details about pairings at this point, but I will mention you were at least partly correct in what you said there (I won't say which part, of course).

A Call to Arms should be up within a few months; if I could find out exactly when Destiny is going to reach the States, I'd be able to give a more exact timeframe, but for now I'll simply say that it'll be up at the earliest possible moment.

Ninofchaos, I'll confess I'm not familiar with the Gundam SEED novel; but I suppose I'll know a certain amount about it soon enough. I'll keep an eye out; and, as always, thanks for reviewing.

Warp Ligia Obscura, I think I can safely predict that this will outdo Brothers in Arms in terms of reviews; Birds of a Feather has considerably more than Brothers in Arms had at this point, and it'll also have more chapters than my last story did (though I suspect I'd have gotten more reviews for it, too, if I hadn't been updating every other night; I suppose people didn't have time to review one chapter before the next was posted).

Now, it seems to me that ZAFT wouldn't exactly need good intelligence to know that Falcon was on the Archangel. I mean, he hasn't exactly made a secret of it, what with him arguing with various pilots and uttering his trademark scream all over the place. For ZAFT not to mention that to Andy Waltfeld would be… peculiar.

As for Flay, you should remember her own words in Phase 15: about how Kira was going to fight and fight and fight until he died. In my opinion, while she's not truly evil -just mentally unbalanced, and who can blame her after she watched her father get blown to tiny pieces- she's quite capable of arranging someone's demise, assuming she could figure out how. Given that Falcon seems very likely to interfere with her manipulation of Kira, I daresay she'd want him out of the way.

Yes, Mir is turning up a lot, isn't she? Yeah, you might say I've got plans… though they may be a little different from what people are expecting…

Falcon certainly does know a lot of people; makes sense, when you consider that he used to be a ZAFT pilot, and much more important than his official title would indicate. On the other hand, there are a few people Kevin Walker knows that he wouldn't -in Orb, for example.

Yeah, Tempest is still around; but that's basically because I have a much more dramatic end to him in mind, which won't occur for quite a while yet.

You're not the only one doubting Tolle's survival, I see. Hmm… perhaps there's a reason for that…

True, Kevin Walker's origins have been revealed; but I you'll notice that I never really went into day-to-day life within the ABADDON Project. In A Call to Arms, more of those details will be laid out, as well as the histories of a couple other Destroyers.

Believe me, I am pleased that I get so many reviews. I never expected my work to be this popular, especially after my fairly dismal early efforts.

Knightowl, thanks for reviewing; if memory serves, you also reviewed Brothers in Arms a time or two, so welcome to the new story.

I actually haven't played Never Ending Tomorrow yet, but that's only lack of opportunity. I have every intention of trying it; and personally, I don't put much stock in the bad reviews I've seen it get from professional reviewers. I find myself disagreeing with such people more and more of late, anyway.

I think I know the site you're talking about; or so I judge from the fact that those mission descriptions look very familiar. If its GameFAQs, then I already know it; handy site, too.

Centurious, as mentioned earlier in the notes, I don't really think Flay's being more evil than usual in this story; and I don't think that's truly "evil" at all. She's just a little off in the head, as demonstrated by, among her things, her mistaking Le Creuset for her father, at Alaska. In any case, Falcon will be causing her problems, indeed…

I guess that's everything; another hour and twelve hundred words devoted to author's notes. Figures. Well, let me know how it was. -Solid Shark