I don't own anything except Ken DiFalco, his team, and Sophia DiFalco
Libyan Desert
In the cockpit of GAT-X107 Raptor, Earth Forces Commander Ken "Falcon" DiFalco groggily raised his head. "Ugh," he grunted, trying to focus his eye; he absently noted that the sun had risen sometime between his losing consciousness and awakening inside the powered-down machine.
What happened? Falcon wondered. He vaguely remembered a battle, and a brief, biting argument with Kira; then, at some point, he'd been cornered by BuCUEs...
"Don't let our -my- sacrifice have been in vain..."
Remembering those words brought everything back into focus for the one-eyed pilot. Right... Kira and I got cornered, then Kira blasted two BuCUEs to vapor; and I went Berserker myself. Explains why I was out for awhile...
For most people, Falcon knew, the Berserker state merely left them a little tired. For him, though, it tended to knock him unconscious once the danger was past, as well as producing brief problems with his short-term memory. That explained why his head was just a little fuzzy when he finally came to.
It occurred to him about then that he should probably tell the Archangel that he was still in the land of the living. "Hey, Miriallia," he called, keying his radio. "This is Falcon; is everything all right over there?"
Mir's face appeared on his monitor. "Falcon," she responded, clearly relieved. "We were getting a little worried; Commander DiFalco -uh, the other Commander DiFalco- was about to send out a search party."
"Not necessary," he said with the ghost of a smile. "But tell her I appreciate the sentiment. So what's the situation with Archangel?"
"Fine, for now." She smiled. "You and Kira made sure of that; by the time you two were finished, there weren't any enemy forces left to retreat. Right now," Mir went on, "the Captain is getting ready to meet with those resistance fighters."
"Resistance fighters?" Falcon frowned, then remembered. "Oh, yes; so they decided to come after all. I guess they just didn't get here in time to participate in the battle."
"Looks that way; by the time you were through, nobody was in any shape to fight at all." She paused. "Captain Ramius requests that you return to the ship as soon as possible, so that you can accompany her and Commander La Flaga to the meeting with the guerillas; and Chief Murdoch and your sister want to look over the Raptor ASAP, as well. They seem to think it may be damaged." She shrugged, confused. "But I thought you weren't hit."
"I wasn't; but I probably over-stressed the frame." He looked almost sheepish for an instant. "I don't think G-weapons are supposed to be able to pull maneuvers like that, or so I remember from the specs I hacked out of the Morgenroete database at Heliopolis." Falcon unsnapped the power cable from its socket on the instrument panel, and began to unstrap. "Tell Murrue I'll be right there; and inform Chief Murdoch that he'll have to get Raptor back aboard manually again."
"Got it, Falcon." Mir chuckled. "But you know, I don't think Chief Murdoch and his people are going to be very happy about having to do that again; they're still complaining about the sand they had to clean out of the joints last time."
"Well, you can tell them it shouldn't be so bad this time." He finished unstrapping, and reached for the hatch controls. "Falcon out."
Archangel, Bridge
"We have confirmation from Commander DiFalco," Mir reported. "He'll be returning shortly."
Murrue nodded. "Good; I'll want his input when we meet with this 'Desert Dawn' group. He's proven insightful in the past... and besides, I want to know just what he was up to, setting up this meeting in the first place."
"Another part of his grand design," Sophia opined. "Come on, Murrue, you know he never does anything without a reason; he probably got a look at their equipment, and figured they might be helpful in getting us past the Desert Tiger. Or," she added, after a moment's thought, "maybe it has something to do with his overall scheme -whatever that is- and we'll never know about it... at least not for a few months yet."
Natarle raised an eyebrow. "Makes long plans, does he?"
"Come on, Lieutenant, you should know that by now." If you don't, then you haven't been paying attention.
"True," the lieutenant acknowledged. "Otherwise, I suppose he wouldn't even be here in the first place, would he?"
"Actually," Murrue mused, "I think that if everything had gone according to his plans, he wouldn't be here; but that's neither here nor there."
"Not exactly relevant to the current situation," Sophia agreed. "Well, I guess we wait for Falcon to get back, then go see what's up."
About ten minutes later, Falcon appeared on the Bridge, looking weary, yet almost relaxed. "Reporting as requested, Captain," he said, saluting.
"Since when do you call me 'Captain'?" Murrue questioned. "Anyway, before we go out there, I'd like to know just what you told those people." She gave him a hard look. "Nothing too sensitive, I'd hope; nothing that they could have provided the Desert Tiger, thus leading to this last attack?"
Had there been an expression on his face, it probably would have been one of scorn. "Come now, Murrue. First of all, I'm not in the habit of giving the enemy any more of an advantage than I could help. And second, everything I told them they could have found out for themselves; and Commander Waltfeld's attack certainly wasn't prompted by anything I told the Desert Dawn."
"How can you be sure?" Natarle asked skeptically.
Falcon glanced at her. "Lieutenant, the Desert Dawn, at the time the attack was launched, had no idea as to Archangel's exact location. Andy Waltfeld's attack force, on the other hand, clearly knew exactly where they were going; and, for that matter, those BuCUEs were probably sent before I made contact with the resistance fighters." He tilted his head. "Any other questions?"
"No, Falcon; sorry," Murrue apologized. "We shouldn't have doubted you. Anyway, I'll try to keep this first meeting fairly short; I'm sure you'll be wanting to get some sleep as soon as you can, after everything that's happened."
"I'd appreciate it," he replied. "I haven't slept since before the battle in orbit."
Sophia raised an eyebrow. "And you said Kira was in no shape to fly out there? Might this be a case of the pot calling the kettle black?"
"Possibly." Falcon glanced at the Bridge hatch. "Now, why don't we get to an airlock, go out there, and get this over with?"
Archangel, Main Airlock
The trio of Archangel officers -Murrue, Falcon, and Sophia- met up with Mu on the way to the outer hatch; he was, at that moment, checking the chamber of a standard Earth Forces-issue autopistol. "I gotta tell you," he remarked, "that these guerillas look a little shady to me."
Falcon shrugged. "What do you expect? We can either trust them, or we can't; fortunately, we're in a position of strength if we can't."
"Hm. True; but," Mu went on, looking over at Murrue, "I should probably warn you that I'm not too 'good' in these... sticky situations."
She smiled. "We may need that; but let's reserve judgment for now, shall we, and wait on shooting at them until we have to."
"If you insist." They reached the hatch, and the Hawk waved a hand. "After you, Falcon; after all, it's your crazy idea."
The ace walked past the two, and paused. "And," he commented, "if it goes wrong, I'll be the one who gets shot first?"
Mu grinned. "Yeah, something like that." Despite the banter, of course, he didn't want anything of the sort to happen; they were brothers, after all, and the Hawk of Endymion had taken a liking to his erstwhile nemesis.
Not to mention the fact that he didn't expect anything like that to happen. He'd seen what Falcon did with a beam saber, and suspected he could use his katana against bullets in a similar fashion...
Libyan Desert
Sahib Ashman was waiting when the Archangel contingent finally emerged into the harsh sunlight. It's about time, he thought to himself. But I suppose it couldn't be helped; if they wanted DiFalco in on this, they had to wait until he was available... The stunt the man's machine had pulled in the last battle was still something he found difficult to believe had actually happened, despite seeing it with his own eyes. Taken individually, the actions were not that remarkable; but done in such quick succession, fluidly going from one move to the next, and in such a short span of time... Not to mention the fact that a normal man would have blacked out in the middle of it.
"So," he said, when the Earth Forces officers came near, "we meet at last." He glanced at each in turn. "I already know Commander DiFalco's identity; and you are...?"
"Captain Murrue Ramius," Murrue replied, "commanding officer of the Mobile Assault Ship Archangel. We're with the Eighth Fleet."
Ahmed made a skeptical sound. "The Eighth Fleet? How is that possible? I thought they were wiped out by the enemy..."
Sahib shot him a quelling look. "According to Commander DiFalco, you came here by accident; from what other sources tell us, it was the Le Creuset team that forced you to make a... precipitous departure from orbit." He looked up at the Strike. "And that machine of yours..."
"It's the X105 Strike," Cagalli supplied, glancing briefly at Falcon. "That's what they call that thing; it's one of the Earth Forces' new mobile weapons."
Murrue looked at her, surprised, and shot a glance at Falcon. So this is the "friend" for whom you hacked the data, isn't she? I see now why you were a bit more open with them than you might otherwise have been.
Ashman ignored the brief interplay. "As I mentioned when I requested this meeting, our group is called the Desert Dawn. I go by the name of Sahib Ashman. What we are attempting to do -and the reason I believe this discussion has potential merit for the both of us- is drive ZAFT out of this region."
Mu raised an eyebrow. "You resistance fighters against Andy 'Desert Tiger' Waltfeld, huh? Been fighting for awhile?"
Sahib gave him a closer look. "You seem familiar, Commander, but I cannot say how, or from where."
"He's Mu La Flaga," Sophia supplied. "And as far as I know, he's never been here, and doesn't know anybody from around here."
"The Hawk of Endymion?" He nodded in respect. "This is about the last place I would have expected to meet you, of all people." He looked back at Sophia. "You, on the other hand... I don't recognize you, yet somehow it doesn't seem at all strange that you would be here."
She smiled. "Probably because I was at El Alamein, among other places." The pilot raised her hand in a salute. "My name is Sophia DiFalco; and, unlike my brother the ZAFT ace, I'm an Earth Forces ace. Some people call me Kestrel."
"The Victorian Kestrel?" Sahib nodded slowly. "This may be a fortuitous meeting indeed, Captain Ramius; you seem to have quite the collection of pilots on your ship; and quite the ship, as well." He stroked his beard. "Now that you've landed in this place -which I suspect is rather inconvenient for you- I must say that I'm curious as to just what you plan to do."
Murrue glanced at Falcon, but got no help from that direction; he merely gazed back at her, impassive. "Can we count on your cooperation?"
The resistance leader smiled, with a knowing glance toward the Archangel's hatch; where, of course, several armed guards waited, as a precaution. "If you really want to talk, maybe you should put away your guns," he suggested easily. "And the Strike's pilot should come down here, as well."
The Captain considered that. She was well aware of what Natarle's suggestion would be -give them some of what they wanted, but at least leave Kira in the Strike as insurance- but in this case, she felt the safest move would not necessarily be the wisest.
Besides, she suspected Falcon, though he was by no means a ground soldier, could at least buy them enough time to return to the Archangel, if it came to that.
"Very well," she said at last. "Ensign Yamato," she called, "come down here!"
Kira heard the order, and immediately began to unstrap. Why do I think Falcon had something to do with this? the pilot wondered. Probably because he has something to do with everything. He'd heard that, during the previous year, it had become an axiom among Earth Forces pilots that wherever there was trouble, the Grimaldi Falcon would be in the middle of it to make it even worse.
Thinking of the more experienced pilot -who was now recognized among the Archangel's crew as his mentor- Kira winced. After his night with Flay -which hadn't gone quite as far as Flay would probably have liked; Kira was having his share of problems, especially after failing to save that shuttle of refugees, but he wasn't so depressed as to seek that sort of comfort- he suspected he and Falcon were going to be having an... interesting discussion soon. The ace clearly didn't like Flay very much, for one thing; and for another, his philosophy was very much at odds with what Flay had been telling him.
Well, he told himself, reaching for the hatch controls, just remember what Falcon always says: make your own decisions, and don't let anyone tell you what they should be. I'll listen to what both of them have to say, and decide for myself which of them is right. Maybe both are, in their own ways...
Kira opened the hatch, and grabbed the zip line to lower himself to the desert floor.
Cagalli watched the flightsuited pilot descend form his machine, and wondered who he might be. Was he another Coordinator, like DiFalco, or had the ace come up with an Operating System that would allow a Natural to fly the machine with ease?
She had not the slightest idea that she was about to see a familiar face.
The pilot's feet came to rest on the sand, and he walked toward the resistance fighters. He seemed tired, which was understandable, under the circumstances, but he moved with the confidence one would expect from a pilot who had just annihilated several BuCUEs all by himself, and was reputedly the Grimaldi Falcon's protégé.
Then he reached up, and pulled off his helmet.
Cagalli stared at him for several moments, frowning, as she tried to remember where she'd seen that face before. Wait a minute... that's the guy from Heliopolis!
Her face set, feeling angry for no reason she could fathom, the blonde-haired girl ran over to the Earth Forces pilot. "So it's you," she said harshly, stopping a meter from him. "What's someone like you doing here?" she demanded.
Kira, for his part, was utterly bemused. Who's this, and why is she angry at me? That question became even more pertinent when the girl threw a punch at him.
He caught it with ease; he was, after all, a Coordinator, and the punch obviously unplanned. But the violent reaction served to remind him where he had seen her before. "That's right," Kira said finally. "We met back at Morgenroete, didn't we?"
The recognition didn't mollify Cagalli at all. Instead, she got even angrier than before. "Let go of me, you jerk!" she snarled, and wrenched her hand free, whacking Kira in the face in the process.
The other resistance fighters and Archangel officers were even more in the dark about the situation than Kira had been at first... except, of course, for Falcon. Hmm. Not quite the reaction I'd have expected, but I suppose it makes a certain amount of sense...
"Cagalli!" Sahib called sharply; he didn't know what was going on, but he didn't think relations with the Archangel would be improved if the resistance fighters went around punching members of the ship's crew in the face.
Reluctantly, after another glare at Kira, Cagalli turned away, and walked back to the rest of the Desert Dawn. When she reached them, though, she spoke in a low voice to Ashman. "I think we should hear what they have to say, Sahib, but this isn't the place. We can trust them, I think, so we should bring them back to the base."
The leader nodded. "Very well." He turned to confer again with Murrue.
Falcon slipped into the group then. "Did you actually have a reason for hitting my friend there?" he asked Cagalli, speaking very quietly. "Or were you just blowing off steam?"
"What's it matter to you?" she demanded.
"First of all, he saved your life, back at Heliopolis; something which I'd think you'd be grateful for. Second, he happens to be a friend of mine, and while I have my own problems with him right now, I'd suggest you not go around hitting my pilots."
Cagalli gave him a derisive look. "Anytime you want to try to do something about it, DiFalco, go right ahead. You might find yourself with more of a fight than you bargained for."
Falcon closed his eye. "I didn't say I was looking for a fight; and I'd appreciate it if you not call me that. Contrary to popular belief, DiFalco isn't even my name."
She looked at him again, puzzled. "Huh?" What does that have to do with anything? "Why tell me?"
"Because I find discussions go more smoothly when all the cards are on the table. And besides... you might be more circumspect if you knew that my real name is La Flaga."
Cagalli blinked in surprise. "What? You mean...?"
Falcon nodded. "Yeah; Mu happens to be my brother. So I suggest you keep in mind the fact that if you go after one of us, you go after both of us." He turned away. "But I don't expect it to come to that; after all, enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?"
She didn't have an answer for that.
Archangel, Hangar
Now that the Archangel had begun its journey toward the Desert Dawn's base, Murdoch had requested Sophia's presence in the hangar; now she entered, still in full flight gear. "What's up, Chief?"
The mechanic waved a hand at Raptor. "Thought you might want to know how your brother's machine is doing; especially after that last battle. I've been going over it ever since, and I gotta tell you, I'm finding it hard to believe the shape it's in."
She frowned. "That bad, huh?"
Murdoch shook his head. "It's not that it's bad -though it ain't good, either- it's that it's weird. C'mon, take a look for yourself."
Sophia followed him over to the dormant mobile suit. "What am I looking at, Chief? What do you mean by 'weird'?"
He pointed at Raptor's frame; the leg, specifically, but only because it was nearest to their level. "That."
She looked at Murdoch, then at the mobile suit, and back at Murdoch. "Again, with a little explanation, please. Just what am I looking at? All I see is the machine; no damage, not even any scratched paint. So what's the problem?"
Murdoch handed her a diagnostic tool. "Take a look through that, at high magnification."
Puzzled, Sophia did so; and then her eyebrows went up in surprise. "The frame is... cracked," she said slowly. "There's fatigue cracks in the armor here..."
"Not just here." He nodded up at the Raptor. "My boys and I looked over it, and the whole machine is like that. At least a decade's worth of wear and tear after just a few battles."
She looked at him sharply. "You think it's from that stunt Falcon pulled at the end there, when he blew up all those BuCUEs?"
"That's part of it," he concurred. "You could pull that off without undue stress to the frame; but not when you're pulling it off in fractions of seconds, like he did. Not to mention the energy flare when he fired all his guns point-blank into the ground. But no, actually, it's not just that battle." He shook his head slowly. "Commander, I've studied that CGUE of his, too, and it's just the same: a lot more stress has been put on it then I'd have thought possible... and the Strike isn't like that. There's only one conclusion I can draw from it, Ma'am."
"And that is?"
"Standard mobile suit frames can't keep up with him," Murdoch said simply. "His piloting -his normal piloting- is so fast, he stresses the things beyond their limits. Now, with an ordinary pilot, that isn't a problem; a mobile suit -or aircraft- can't react any faster than the pilot, and there's only so fast most pilots can react. Look at Commander La Flaga, for example. He's fast, but it's within his mobile armor's tolerances. Same for Kira and the Strike. But your brother... I think he's a little different from other people, at least when he's in the cockpit."
Sophia nodded slowly. Der Schreckick Eins, she thought. The Terrible One... soldier genes... it looks like Doctor Metzinger's experiment was a success... "So what does this mean for Raptor, Chief?" she said aloud. "Can it hold up to the demands being placed on it?" She was pretty sure she knew the answer -she'd started out as an engineer, after all- but she wanted a second opinion.
"It'll hold up," Murdoch answered, "for now. But one of these days -and probably not too far in the future- it's just going to pack up on him in the middle of combat, and fall apart. About the only warning he'll have is the crack when pieces start falling off."
"Ouch." She winced, and didn't bother asking him if he was certain it would occur in combat. There's no other time it could; and when it does, it could be a disaster... no, it will be a disaster. "Well, at least he has the CGUE to fall back on, if he has to."
"Yeah." The mechanic grinned. "Top of the line ZAFT model, all the latest bells and whistles -at least, latest as of his desertion. But I've looked at that particle cannon, and the laser sword he liberated from Huckebein, and I think it could hold its own against the captured G-weapons, if it had to; at least for awhile."
"Glad to hear it." Sophia looked back at the dormant Raptor. Huh; of all the ways I thought you might be destroyed, my deadly creation, I never thought it might be because your pilot was too good at his job... which reminds me... She glanced at Murdoch again. "By the way, Chief, do you have any idea what that power cable is for? The one he hooks up to his machine's powerplant?"
The mechanic shrugged. "I have no idea, Commander. I've seen it, sure -kinda hard to miss when it's dangling off his flightsuit all the time- but I can't figure out what it's for. All I know is that it's part of his preflight checklist, and he gets cranky whenever people ask him about it. Something about his eyes..."
"Eye," she corrected. "You mean eye, singular, don't you?"
"Well, yeah... but that eyepatch gives me the creeps, too." Murdoch shrugged. "I dunno; maybe it's just me... but I think he likes it that way." He glanced at her sidelong. "By the way, you got any idea how he lost the eye in the first place?"
"Beats me," Sophia replied. "We may be getting along a little better now, but you know he never tells me anything. Best guess is that he lost it in his duel with Victor Tempest; I'm pretty sure he cost Tempest at least an eye, and maybe fingers, too. All I know is, he won't talk about it except to say that apparently he didn't kill Tempest quite as dead as he thought."
"Huh. Explains why the guy keeps trying to blow us up." The mechanic scratched his head. "Well, Commander, I'd better get back to fixing Raptor; you never know when this ship might be attacked."
"Don't I know it. Well, see you later, Chief; I need to get out of this flightsuit." Normally, Earth Forces flightsuits were quite comfortable; but Sophia had spent the last several hours cooped up in this one, and she wanted out of it as soon as possible.
Gibraltar Base, Strait of Gibraltar
"I'm glad to see you made it safe and sound," Le Creuset said on the monitor. "That was a pretty tough battle you two went through."
"Nearly ended up in a body bag," Dearka Elsman agreed; he lounged in a chair in the base's comm room. "Could have been worse, though."
"Yes, I'm sure. I'm afraid that you're going to be stuck there a while longer, though," the masked commander went on apologetically. "There are currently no plans to bring you back to space; it seems Command thinks you may be of more use to the war right where you are." He shrugged. "For now, I suppose you're on standby; but of course, if you get a shot at the legged ship, go right ahead and take it out."
"Got it, Commander." Dearka paused. "By the way, sir, any word on Commander Huckebein's intentions?"
Le Creuset grimaced in distaste. "Apparently, he's planning to head for Earth himself soon; and Committee Chairman Zala concurs. When he arrives, he'll be assigned one of the new LaGOWE units; but, as he's going to the African Community, he should at least be out of your hair."
"That's a relief, at least." One of the few things held in common by all four G-pilots under Le Creuset's command was a distaste for Huckebein; and, as their commander shared it himself, none of them bothered hiding it. "Is there anything else, sir?"
"No, that's it for now. Good luck, to both of you." Le Creuset's image winked out.
Dearka shot his heretofore silent companion a look of disgust. "We're to remain on Earth? Work with the Gibraltar forces? Ugh. Well, at least we might be able to finally take down the legged ship." Personal feelings about one of the ship's pilots aside, he would be more than happy to blow Archangel sky high.
Yzak Joule didn't respond at once. Instead, he continued staring at the wall, brooding; then reached up for the bandages covering the upper right side of his face.
"Hey, Yzak, cut it out!" Dearka protested, when the white-haired pilot began to remove the coverings. "You shouldn't-!"
Yzak ignored him, and finally tossed off the bandages; underneath was quite healed, if scarred, skin. "That legged ship's going down all right," he hissed. "And I'll be the one to do it!"
His comrade's obsession was beginning to disturb the blonde-haired pilot a little. Eagerness to go after the enemy was one thing; this was something else. It could easily make him reckless, enough so to get him killed. The Strike pilot had already demonstrated the willingness -and capability- to shoot the Duel to pieces.
Though I suppose I'm one to talk about problems engaging that ship, Dearka thought moodily. He'd heard about the new orders regarding Falcon, and he wasn't happy about them; especially since some higher-ups in ZAFT seemed to think that the defector's habit of disarming his opponents would give them an edge in dealing with him. Dearka knew better.
He'd known for years that Falcon was quite capable of killing. He'd been there, the first time, and he'd done his share of the killing that day himself...
It was a bank, in Februarius City; just minutes before, Dearka and Falcon had been there on ordinary business, not expecting anything unusual. Now, the place had been overrun by gunmen, in a classic bank robbery, and they were both being held at gunpoint, hands over their heads.
They exchanged glances. There were only a half-dozen gunmen, and both Falcon and Dearka had some training in hand-to-hand combat, Falcon in particular; and one of the thugs had made the mistake of holding his weapon a little too close to the blonde youth's head.
Falcon raised an eyebrow, and Dearka nodded slightly. They moved.
The martial artist's hands suddenly reached up, grabbed the gun, and used it for leverage to throw the gunman across the room. The now-liberated pistol barked once, killing the man before he could hit the floor.
At the same moment, Dearka shot to his feet, brought his hand down on another gunman's arm, and took his weapon before shooting him in the head. That left four targets, all of them armed, but the two teenagers had surprise on their side.
Falcon shot another, swept his leg into a second's neck, snapping it, and turned toward a third; then he jerked back, crying out as a bullet caught him in the side, and another grazed his neck.
Dearka didn't waste a second. He shot the man who'd fired on his friend, and tossed the gun into the last gunman's temple.
By the time the authorities arrived, it was all over except the bleeding.
No, Dearka did not doubt that Falcon could kill if he had to; but others disagreed, which convinced him that ZAFT pilots were going to be overconfident when dealing with the defector, and they would die.
And he still didn't understand why Falcon had betrayed them in the first place. He'd always seemed sane enough, if a little cold when he went into battle; now it was almost as if he'd lost his mind...
Yzak gave his fellow pilot a questioning look, noticing his continued brooding, but Dearka didn't bother to explain. Under the circumstances, he didn't think the scarred pilot would be terribly sympathetic anymore; not after what the Strike had done to him.
African Community, Desert Dawn Base
Falcon, now much more his usual self after being comatose for several hours, glanced about the base to which the Desert Dawn's jeeps had led them. It appeared to consist of several large caves, set within a small canyon; it made for a snug hiding place for the Archangel, but an adequate one.
Assuming Andy Waltfeld didn't already know the base's location.
Huh, he thought, taking note of the cave mouths and the various resistance fighters looking suspiciously at the Archangel. To think, last year I would have been fighting these people; now they're our allies, against ZAFT forces. War certainly makes for strange bedfellows, doesn't it, Falcon?
About then, Falcon realized he was being watched, and minutely turned his head to see a figure in khaki pants and a red t-shirt standing near one of the cave entrances. It was, as he'd thought, the girl he knew as Cagalli Yula; she seemed to be studying him as intently as he was studying the base.
"You know," he said, in a quiet voice pitched to carry, "if you want to know something, you can just ask; the mind-reading act isn't necessary."
Cagalli twitched; she hadn't realized he'd noticed her. "I wasn't- I mean-"
"Relax," he advised her, walking over, trench coat billowing in the wind behind him. "In your place, I'd be just as suspicious of me, even if my leader seemed to trust me. A ZAFT turncoat must be something of a rarity; and there's the old saying that a man who turns his coat once can easily do it again." He raised an eyebrow. "That the kind of thing you're thinking about?"
"Something like that," she admitted, examining his expression; one of the things that was most irritating was that his eyepatch made it difficult to read his face. "Is there some reason why I should trust you?"
"Maybe; maybe not." Falcon glanced over his shoulder, seeing the other officers follow Sahib into the main cave, and debating with himself for a moment. No, he decided finally. They can do without me for once; it's not like they can't do anything by themselves. I imagine they'd have done quite well if I hadn't turned up at Heliopolis. "So," he continued aloud. "I suppose you've probably got a few choice words for me; if you do, though, I suggest we find someplace a little more private."
Without waiting for a response, the ace began walking up to higher ground, heading for a spot overlooking the Archangel; Cagalli, after an internal debate of her own, hurried to follow him.
"You're right," she said when they were out of earshot of anyone else. "I do have a few things to say to you; unless you'd rather not hear it."
To her annoyance, the pilot merely looked faintly amused. "Sticks and stones, Miss Yula," he said easily. "I've a rather thicker skin than you might think."
"Oh really?" Cagalli snorted. "Then let me be frank, DiFalco: I don't trust you. I thought, when we first ran into each other on the nets, years ago, that you had the same kind of ideals I do. But someone like that wouldn't have turned his coat as easily as you did."
Falcon's eye narrowed. "You think it was easy, leaving ZAFT behind? You're deluded if you believe that. You've got no idea what this war has cost me, Miss. No idea at all." He rubbed his eyepatch. "And I didn't betray my country; just my organization... and they betrayed me first. Tell me, would you stand by and watch as your comrades went ahead and committed genocide?"
"If something like that were going on in the first place, I'd have worked to change it from within, not shot at my friends!" she retorted.
"Really. And here I thought you didn't like ZAFT in the first place."
"I don't," Cagalli said bluntly. "If I did, I wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't be having this conversation. And if you were the honorable soldier everyone said you were, you wouldn't be here, either."
Falcon tilted his head. "You seem to have a problem with me, Miss Yula," he said evenly, "and I think it goes beyond mere questions of my trustworthiness. Perhaps you'd care to explain?"
She gave him a challenging look. Fine, if he wants to hear it that badly... "You were at Heliopolis," she said finally, glaring. "You were the one who hacked that data out of Morgenroete's computers for me. Are you going to tell me you're not the reason the Le Creuset team got that information? It's too much of a coincidence, if you ask me... which means you're responsible for what happened that day."
Those last words lit the fires deep in Falcon's mind, and anger slowly began to smolder to life. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Miss," he said coldly. "If you had any idea what this war has cost me, you'd understand that I never wanted to be part of it again."
"What you want doesn't matter much, does it?" Cagalli snorted in derision. "I think you gave that data to ZAFT, then decided you'd gotten in over your head, and-"
"Shut up!" he hissed, emotionless mask shattering to pieces. "You've got no idea what you're talking about, silly girl; you've stayed nice and safe in your 'neutral nation' all this time, with no conception at all of what's happening outside your safe little world!"
"Then tell me," she challenged; the "silly girl" remark had gotten to her. "What don't I know that explains how you're on the side of goodness and light here, without any responsibility for-"
"I didn't say I didn't have any responsibility," he snapped. "Believe me, I have plenty. But you don't know what it's like, fighting day after day after day, watching your friends get blown away one by one by those bastards who attacked your homeland because you didn't meet your quota! You've never watched a Cyclops System activate, tearing up and incinerating everything in its path, friend or foe, inexorably reaching out for you until it finally reaches you and blasts your machine into scrap metal! You've never come within centimeters of stopping one of the greatest atrocities in human history, only to lose your home and most of your team because you missed!" He clenched his fists. "I'm from Junius Seven," he said in a harsh whisper, "and it died because of my mistake; and my parents died at Heliopolis. So don't try to tell me about 'responsibility'!" His eye blazed. "And I'm 'taking responsibility' for it now, believe me; I'm the only one with any hope of putting an end to all this, and that's what I'm bloody well going to do."
Cagalli flinched, startled by the violent reaction. So he is human, she thought in a detached way. You just have to make him very angry to even notice. Shock mingled with derision, as she thought about what he'd just said. He's arrogant, that's for sure; he thinks he can stop it all by himself?
"You're going to stop this war all by yourself?" She nearly laughed at the notion. "Just what makes you think you can do that, anyway? You're just a pilot, acting on your own."
Falcon regained a measure of control. "Acting on my own, am I? 'Just a pilot'? Have you forgotten what I did to your buddy Ahmed last night?"
"No, I haven't." Cagalli smiled thinly. "But that doesn't really say anything about well you do in fair fight, now does it?" Maybe I should try beating some sense into this guy.
He was now watching her curiously. "There's no such thing as a fair fight," he said quietly. "But if you're challenging me..."
"If you want to take it that way." She stretched. "Just how good are you outside the cockpit?"
This silly Natural is challenging me to a sparring match? She's out of her mind. Falcon smiled slowly. "Fine, if that's what you want; I hope you like the taste of sand, though." He unfastened the trench coat, tossed it aside, and set his sword atop it; then unfastened his white officer's tunic, leaving just the more practical t-shirt. "Been awhile since I had a little fun."
Cagalli was surprised by the change in the way he talked and acted; evidently, the ace had decided there was no longer any point in hiding behind a facade, when he'd already blown up at her.
Surprise, however, didn't prevent her from trying to pull a fast one on the pilot. She made the first move, a spinning side kick at his head. A fast move, and one which might have taken another man by surprise; but Falcon caught her ankle with one hand, looking amused.
"I hope that's not your only trick," he said easily -and found out the hard way that it wasn't, when her other foot left the ground and hit against his neck. Combined with the one still in Falcon's grip, the subsequent spinning motion flipped him to the ground in a heap.
"How's that?" Cagalli asked, pulling herself to her feet. "Surprised a 'mere Natural' can do that to you?"
"You've got some skill, I'll grant you that." Falcon slowly stood, spitting sand from his mouth. "I confess I underestimated you; but it won't happen again."
He made the next move, a fast chopping motion with his right hand; but, surprising him even more than her last move, Cagalli caught his wrist, and used the leverage to throw him over her shoulder.
How did she do that? Falcon wondered. "You're fast," he admitted, dragging himself to his feet again. "That'll teach me to take liberties with you. But don't think you've won."
She didn't reply. Instead, she jumped, aiming another side kick at his head; but this time, he wasn't caught unprepared. He ducked sideways, grabbed her leg with both hands, and used the momentum to slam her to the ground.
"That was foolish," the pilot informed her. "Never try the same move twice, or else-"
Cagalli lunged up at him, and the next few moments were a blur of hands and feet... until her boot caught the strap of his eyepatch, pulling it off.
Instantly, Falcon staggered back with a cry of pain, one hand going to cover the area. Moving like a man who'd just suffered a hard blow, he stumbled into the nearest cave, breathing heavily; his face twitched, as though from great pain.
Cagalli, even more stunned by this than by his angry soliloquy, followed him in. "DiFalco?" she said hesitantly, wondering if she'd just done something to him. "Sorry... are you alright?"
"Not your fault," he said through gritted teeth. "You couldn't have known." He spared a moment to curse in what sounded like Gaelic, before continuing, "There are only a handful of people who know about that."
She frowned, confused. "Wha...?"
In answer, Falcon raised his head, lowered his hand... and looked at her through two perfectly-intact eyes.
There was something strange about the left, though. Radiating out from the Prussian blue eye's pupil were silver lines, glowing noticeably in the dim cave; it was like nothing Cagalli had ever seen. "What... what is that?"
"One of my many secrets," he replied, managing a slight chuckle; he was still suffering from the aftereffects of whatever had pained him. "Most people... think I lost the eye when my teammate and student Victor Tempest tried to kill me... but they're wrong. That's where the scar comes from, but the eye -unlike Victor's- was untouched."
"Then why the eyepatch?" Now that she began to understand the kind of stress -and responsibility- Falcon had been living under for so long, Cagalli was a bit gentler in her questioning. "Why wear something like that when you don't have to?"
"For one thing," he pointed out, "the strange appearance tends to disturb people -I mean, how many eyes look like this?- and for another... I do need it."
"I don't understand."
"I'm not surprised." Falcon leaned against the wall. "I might as well tell you; it'll be nice to tell somebody something for once. Those lines you see, they're just the visible part of what I was suspect was deliberate genetic manipulation outside the normal parameters of Coordinator modifications. The true reason I wear the eyepatch is because... the eye can see into the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums."
Cagalli nodded in sudden understanding. "And with all that thermal energy reflected off the sand... it must have been like getting stabbed in the eye."
"That's very much what it felt like," he agreed. "Not the first time it happened, either; my eye began to exhibit these... unusual abilities during my goodwill tour here, last year. It was a most painful experience." He dug into his pocket, pulling out a replacement eyepatch. "This is actually a one-way piece of optical plastic; filters out infrared and ultraviolet, allowing me full use of the eye without getting stabbed in the brain."
"I'm sorry," she said, out of the blue. "I shouldn't have..."
"I told you, it's not your fault."
"That's not what I meant." Cagalli looked away. "I shouldn't have ripped into you like that; after everything you've been through..."
"Forget it," Falcon said, fitting the eyepatch into place. "I told you earlier, I'd be just as suspicious in your place; you just struck a nerve, that's all." He stuck out a hand. "Truce?"
She took it. "Truce."
"That's a relief; I must admit, you impressed me back there." And... I don't think you're a Natural. Not with those moves. "You don't have to call me DiFalco, by the way; I do have another name."
Cagalli nodded, with a slight smile. "Okay, Ken." From the look on his face at that remark, she thought she'd somehow offended him again; his expression was... peculiar. "Sorry," she said quickly.
Falcon shook his head. "No, it's okay; it's just... nobody's ever called me that before."
She blinked in surprise. "Nobody? Ever? Not even your parents?"
"Nope; not once in my entire life." He laughed quietly, with a trace of genuine humor. "It's always been 'Falcon' to my friends, 'DiFalco' to my superiors, and 'Commander' to my subordinates. But..." He paused. "I kind of like it. It's... something not associated with the war, or with my regrettable past; something that isn't part of the 'legend' of the Grimaldi Falcon."
Cagalli smiled. "'Ken' it is, then."
With a slight smile of his own, Ken DiFalco leaned heavily against the wall; she'd noticed he got tired easily, and wasn't surprised to see him rest a little, after their abortive sparing match. She suspected it had something to do with being in full gravity; after all, he'd spent most of his time since joining ZAFT, three years before, in zero- to low-gravity. It had to be tiring, readjusting to it.
That reminded her of something else. "Why did you leave ZAFT, Ken? You said something about them betraying you..."
Ken glanced up. "Actually," he said slowly, "you might say that it's more a case of me betraying myself, originally. It was they who used me, in the end, but it was my sin that led to it. Beyond that, I will not say; it's too dangerous now. Suffice it to say that I was working on a top-secret project, and Patrick decided to use it for something other than its intended purpose." He smiled slightly. "Fortunately, I do have a few plans in the works to put a wrench in his plans; my few surviving Gray Demons are busy with that as we speak."
That didn't surprise her. Cagalli still thought that the ace was arrogant, to a degree, but if he still had agents working for him, perhaps it was justifiable... to a degree. "But I'd heard the Gray Demons were wiped out at Endymion," she said after a moment. "The unit was disbanded afterwards, wasn't it?"
"Actually," Ken corrected, "the unit itself wasn't disbanded till just after Nova; and, besides myself, there were four survivors of Endymion." He shook his head. "Thirteen of us went in, and five of us came out alive. One of them was later killed in battle -after I joined the Archangel, I heard Talia Corialis had a bad run-in with Ed 'The Ripper' Harrelson- but there are still three of them operating in ZAFT, in various key positions. My XO, Lance 'Sparky' Cooper, is currently in charge of the Clyne family's bodyguard, while Tom Delaney holds a useful position in ZAFT mobile suit development. The third, a young woman by the name of Leanne Eldridge, is a ZAFT test pilot."
"One more question," she said, eyes narrow. "Just why are you telling me this? Not ten minutes ago we were trying to knock each other unconscious..."
The pilot smiled. "First of all, I seem to recall that we got along pretty well, a few years ago, before we ever met in person. Second, I haven't told you anything more than I've told Mu and Murrue, except for a couple of names. And third..." The smile turned very enigmatic. "Let's just say that it suits my purposes for someone connected to Orb to have some notion of what I'm up to."
Cagalli looked startled. Connected to Orb...? How did he know...? No, he must be fishing... "What makes you think I'm connected to Orb?"
Falcon ticked off points on his fingers. "One: I seem to remember you mentioning something to that effect, a few years ago. Two: you're obviously not from the PLANTs, or Oceania, the African Community, or the former United States of South America. And three: your bodyguard is Colonel Ledonir Kisaka, Orb Ground Forces, 1st Airborne Battalion. Oh yes," he added, at her look of further surprise, "I know all about the good Colonel; we've met before, as you may have noticed. What I can't figure out is what somebody like him is doing here, of all places."
"Tassil is his hometown," Cagalli pointed out, carefully controlling her expression. "Orb may be neutral, but they'd understand if he wanted to go help his people liberate their home."
"Perhaps," he granted. "But I still don't think that's enough reason; and more importantly, there's the question of why you would have him for a bodyguard. I wasn't asking you," he said quickly, raising his hand, "I'm not expecting you to tell me. We all have our secrets, after all. Who you are and why you're somehow important enough to have a colonel for a bodyguard is your business, not mine; if you don't care to reveal it, I don't mind."
I should have known, she thought with a silent sigh. The young man was very clever, certainly; even now, despite being far more open than previously, he revealed no more than he chose, allowing his friendly manner to serve as a mask quite as well as had the emotionless facade. Whatever he was doing now, it was certain to serve his ultimate plan somehow.
"You're obsessed, you know that?" she accused; though far, far more gently than she had accused him of irresponsibility. "Everything you do is for your 'plan'?"
"Oh yes, I'm quite obsessed," Ken admitted calmly. "Probably in the clinical sense, too; after Victor lost his mind and tried to kill me, I studied mental health issues, and I'd say I fit that description quite well. Although, not quite everything is directly related to that; my reasons for obtaining the G-weapon data were exactly what I've said before: it was a favor for a friend, and I was bored." He stretched, finding himself properly recovered from the pain of intense thermal bombardment of his left eye. "Now, Miss Yula -or Cagalli, whichever you prefer- I'd best be going; a certain pilot and I need to have a little chat."
"You mean the Strike pilot?" Cagalli quite clearly remembered him; and she winced now, recalling her impulsive swing at him earlier. "What's he done to get you mad at him?"
"More than he's done to you, I assure you." The mask slipped over his body language and voice like a portcullis slamming down, as he prepared to deal with the outside world again. "It seems my young friend may be losing sight of what he's fighting for, and why; and I have the distinct feeling I know who's doing it to him."
The ace swept out of the cave, paused to retrieve his tunic, sword, and trench coat, and was gone, like dust in the wind.
He's not a teenager, Cagalli thought to herself, he's a force of nature.
It was about then that it occurred to her that she had her own reasons for finding the heretofore unnamed Strike pilot. She'd been reared properly, and, though she didn't look forward to it, she felt she really ought to apologize to him for whacking him in the face.
Falcon found Kira just about where he'd expected to: near the Strike, in a position overlooking the base. He'd just finished draping camouflage netting over the Archangel, and was now relaxing, much as his mentor had recently been.
"Thought I'd find you here, Kira," Falcon greeted. "You and I have a few things to talk about."
Kira sighed. "I figured we'd be having this conversation. From what you said during the battle, I didn't think you were very happy with me."
"I haven't decided yet if I'm angry," the ace responded. "But I do want to know what's going on. Before now, you didn't want to fight at all; even just before the battle in orbit, I don't think you were looking forward to it. But this time, you seemed almost eager to get into the action... and that doesn't seem like you at all, my friend."
"Maybe I'm just getting used to it," Kira replied, evading the question. "After a while..."
"After a while, some grow to like combat. Yes, I know; but it's totally out of character for you, Kira, and that's not what it sounded like to me. It sounded to me like you'd decided that the best way to get through that battle was to kill everyone who got in your way."
"You went all out," he pointed out. "Are you telling me I shouldn't?"
"Yes," Falcon said patiently, "I went 'all out'. However, I did it because I didn't have much choice at the time; gravity is an unfamiliar combat zone for me, particularly the desert. I have no intention of repeating what I did out there last night... but I get the feeling that you do." He began to pace in front of the younger pilot. "Now, I'm not saying what you did was wrong; I'm not even going to try to convince you not to use lethal force against any ZAFT forces we encounter. No, it's not your actions that trouble me, it's your attitudes. What I am asking you is this: what exactly prompted you to do that, and who gave you the idea?"
Kira looked away. "Flay and I... spent some time together last night. Not what you're thinking," he said hastily. "I think she wanted it to go that far, but I'm not quite ready for that. But she comforted me over the deaths of those refugees, and helped me see what I should be doing."
"And just what might that be, Kira?" the ace asked softly. "What is it that you should be doing?"
"I should be doing my best to end this war as quickly as possible," Kira replied. "The important thing is to make sure nothing like what happened to that shuttle ever happens again; or what happened to Flay's father." He looked his mentor right in the eye. "Or what happened to Junius Seven."
Falcon nodded slowly. "And what's the best way to accomplish that goal, Kira? Did she tell you that, as well, or just give you a dose of philosophy?"
"She didn't say how I should be doing it," the younger Coordinator admitted. "And I don't know, either. But I do know that I shouldn't let anything stop me, even if it means destroying anyone who gets in the way."
"Destroying? Yes, that sounds like the child of George Allster, all right. A pleasant -relatively pleasant- euphemism for killing all those who stand in the way." Ken nodded again. "The ends justify the means, right? That's just how Patrick sees it, you know."
Kira was indignant. "How dare you compare Flay to-!"
"Relax, amigo; I wasn't saying she was the same as Patrick. Believe me, I know that. But I happen to know how Flay feels about most Coordinators, so I don't find the talk she's been feeding you terribly reassuring." Falcon rubbed his eyepatch. "Listen to me, Kira: think about what Flay says, yes. Think about what I said, too; and make your own decision about what to believe. But don't let her use you."
"You think she's using me?" The thought just didn't make sense to Kira. "You can't be serious."
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." The ace was the master of the indirect approach, and allowed his fairly mild words to sow the seeds of doubt in his protégé's mind. "In any case, I won't try to tell you who to be with, Kira; I'll just leave you with this warning: be careful of her, and do not let her wield so much influence over you that you become little more than her puppet. Fortunately," he added, moving away, "I think you're too strong-willed to let that happen. But still, be vigilant. The price of freedom... is eternal vigilance."
Then, as seemed to be his habit after these little chats, Falcon was gone; in this case, probably to discuss their next move with his fellow officers and the Desert Dawn leader.
Soon after that, Cagalli made her way up to Kira's position. Better get it over with, she told herself. Besides, I still haven't caught the guy's name... and I should thank him for saving me at Heliopolis.
Kira, for his part, wasn't at all displeased to see her coming. Even if she was intending to whack him again, well, at least it would get his mind off what Falcon had just said to him. He'd have to deal with it eventually, but right now he just didn't want to think about it.
"Uh... hi," he greeted hesitantly.
Cagalli was even more hesitant. "I came to apologize," she said abruptly. "For hitting you. I didn't actually mean to... well," she amended, looking away, "I guess I did. But it just... kind of happened; I didn't plan on it. Forgive me."
Kira gazed at her for several moments, unsure of how to respond, and finally smiled. "Forget it," he told her, sitting down. "It must have been a bit of a shock, seeing me here; especially after Heliopolis."
"Yeah," she agreed. "You've been on my mind since then," she said then, musing over the events that had thrown them together. "I guess I've been a little worried, asking myself if you could have gotten to safety. I guess you did, huh?"
"Yeah..." He looked up at the Strike, remembering the battles that had brought him here. With his best friend, Athrun... with the Duel's pilot, who had brought down that shuttle of refugees without a second thought.
"Seeing you turn up out of nowhere piloting one the G-weapons... I guess it got to me," Cagalli admitted. "I didn't like it when I found out those were being constructed at a neutral space colony, so finding out someone like you was flying it kinda startled me."
"I guess it would." Kira vividly remembered the reaction of the Archangel's crew when he descended from the Strike's cockpit... and how the guards had nearly shot him when they found out he was a Coordinator. "It wasn't something I'd planned, I'll admit," he went on. "I kinda stumbled into it, since there was no other way out of the factory district, and things led from there; and when we met up with the Eighth Fleet, I stayed so that I could protect my friends."
She nodded. After the amount of trouble the youth had gone to to get her out safely, his reason for remaining the pilot of the Strike didn't surprise her. "That's another thing I wanted to say," she said, remembering. "I never thanked you for helping out, back at Heliopolis. Didn't get a chance to, I guess."
"It's okay," he replied, face growing uncomfortably warm. "Really, it was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing to me," Cagalli retorted; his embarrassed reaction surprised her. What's so embarrassing about saving someone's life, anyway? "I'm grateful."
"Well... it was the least I could do." Kira stood again, and held out his hand. "I'm Kira, by the way, Kira Yamato. I guess Falcon's told you a lot about me?"
"I'm Cagalli Yula," she replied, taking the proffered hand, "and no, he hasn't. I can't really makes or tails of the guy right now; you're certainly more normal than he is."
"Uh, thanks." He took that as something of a compliment, though she didn't seem to be exactly disparaging the ace pilot. "Well, I guess it isn't a surprise; he lives in his own world, I think, and only cares about his mission... whatever it is." Kira cocked his head. "So, what's someone like you doing in a place like this? I assumed you were from Orb..."
Cagalli had the uncomfortable feeling that her bodyguard, Kisaka, was close by, and chose her words with care. "After Heliopolis," she said slowly, "I realized I didn't really know anything about what was going on in the outside world; stayed at home a little too much, I guess. So, I decided to go and see for myself." That should be safe enough, she thought. Besides, who'd believe someone like me would be allowed to come and fight a war in the middle of a desert?
He nodded. "I know what you mean. I never really understood what was going on until I got dragged into this, either. Now, though... who's to say which side is really in the right? Maybe the neutral nations have the right idea. Unfortunately," he went on, "I can't exactly take that road myself. Tolle and the others decided to stay with the Archangel, and I couldn't let them go without me, so..."
"So here you are," she finished. "Would you have still joined up if you'd known you were about to land in the middle of the hottest desert in the word, though?"
Kira laughed. "Maybe not; makes me glad the Strike is air-conditioned. I don't know how anybody can stand wearing those cloaks I've seen around here."
"Obviously you've never lived in a desert," Cagalli said, rolling her eyes. "During the day, you need something to keep the sand off; at night, you need it for warmth. People who haven't spent time in a desert don't seem to realize that it gets cold here at night."
He looked up at the Strike again. "I guess I'll find out, won't I? If we're going to be joining forces with your people, we probably won't be leaving until we find a way to blunt the ZAFT offensive."
"I know Sahib would prefer it that way," she agreed. Then she chuckled, thinking of something else. "I bet we're having a better time than Falcon is right now; Sahib is probably grilling him about ZAFT troop deployments in this area."
Kira frowned. "But Falcon's information must be months out of date."
"Sure it is; but this guy knows the Desert Tiger personally, right? He knows how the guy thinks. Besides, I hear the Grimaldi Falcon was supposed to be one of ZAFT's best planners."
"Maybe so... but he obviously made a mistake somewhere down the line." He looked up. "After all, he's here, isn't he? I don't think leaving ZAFT was part of his plan; and I know he wasn't intending to get back into the war." Kira sighed. "They say you always have choices... but it wasn't Falcon's choice that led him here, and it wasn't mine that led me here."
"The war can't last forever," Cagalli pointed out. "And when you think about it, war spares more lives than it takes. All you have to do is wait it out, and try to survive to the end."
"We might not have the time," he said gloomily. "Judging from the ominous hints Falcon's been dropping, I don't think ZAFT intends to leave it just at winning the war; and I'm not sure the Earth Forces would, either. If either side got nuclear capability back..."
"But that's not possible," she protested. "Not with the N-jammers in place."
"Maybe... but then why is Falcon so terrified of it?"
"He's obsessed," Cagalli said dismissively. "I kind of like the guy, but even he admits he's obsessed. He probably doesn't think quite the same way we do."
"I guess you've got a point." Kira sighed. "Well, I guess all we can do is our best, and hope we make it through this."
"We will," she said confidently. "I'm sure of it."
He looked up at the sky. "I hope you're right."
Desert Dawn Base, War Room
"Glad you could join us, Commander," Sahib said, seeing the eyepatch-wearing pilot enter. "We were beginning to think you'd overslept."
Ken ignored the jibe. "I had other business," he said coolly. "Which is none of yours. Now, shall we get started?"
"Hmph. Well," the resistance leader began, "if I'm not greatly mistaken, you people are seeking passage to Alaska. Am I right?"
"That's what our orders say," Murrue confirmed. "And that's where we'd be now, if we hadn't run into complications on the way into the atmosphere; as it is, we're left looking for the best -and preferably safest- route there."
He nodded to himself. "I see. So, how well does that ship of yours fare in the atmosphere?"
"It can't fly at high altitudes," Natarle admitted. "A few hundred meters, no more."
"Then it can't fly over a mountain." It wasn't a question. "Then the only alternative, it would seem, would be to break through Gibraltar."
Mu opened his mouth, but his brother beat him to the punch. "Impossible," he said flatly. "We have two mobile suits and a pair of Skygraspers; not nearly enough to defeat the Gibraltar defenses. I know, I've been there myself. Next to Carpentaria, it's ZAFT's most heavily defended base on the planet."
Sahib nodded again. "In that case, you could always try going east, through the Red Sea and across the Indian Ocean."
Natarle shook her head. "The Indian Ocean? Sure, we could make it; but not without resupplying along the way. We're running low as it is."
"But we could do it," Mu mused. "ZAFT's submarine forces might be a problem, but with the Archangel's firepower..."
Sahib snorted. "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourselves? You'll have more difficulties than just supplies, and that's before you even get there. Or have you forgotten that just last night you were attacked by ZAFT desert forces?"
"Andy Waltfeld," Falcon murmured. "Of course. His headquarters are in Banadiya, after all."
"So before we worry about the supplies, we have to worry about him." Sophia grimaced. "I've fought the Desert Tiger before; it isn't fun."
Ashman turned to her. "That's right, you were at El Alamein. So, what would you say the biggest difficulties in dealing with him are?"
"Besides the fact that he's a fiendishly good tactician and strategist?" She frowned, thinking. "Well, I wouldn't worry too much about the land battleships; when the Archangel is airborne, she can blow them to dust bunnies without much trouble. The Agile helicopters are hard to hit with shipboard weaponry, but as I found last night, they're no match for a Skygrasper. For that matter, they weren't too tough when I was flying an F-7D, last year. As for mobile suits... ZuOOTs are nothing but clay pigeons; powerful, but extremely slow and lumbering. They won't be much of a threat. It's the BuCUEs we need to worry about." She looked worried. "After last night..."
"Last night won't happen again," Falcon cut in. "Kira and I have both gotten more accustomed to desert battle conditions; and I've finally started to get the hang of fighting within a gravity well. It might not be pretty, but we can handle it."
"Which still leaves us with the problem of supplies," Murrue mused.
Sahib shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about that just yet, Captain; it'll be several days yet at least before we've even gotten a plan ready for dealing with the enemy. It's not as if we can get everything worked out overnight. We need to time to plan, prepare, and regroup."
"Agreed."
Desert Dawn Base, Canyon
That night, Cagalli was abroad, restlessly walking through the base's open areas. She wasn't sure exactly where she was going, but it seemed the thing to do at the time.
Judging from occasional glimpses she'd gotten of a slate-gray coat fluttering in the chill night air, she wasn't the only one with energy to burn this evening.
She was nearing the Archangel's hatch when she heard voices from around the rock ahead. "Just a minute, Flay!" one voice said. "What's up with you lately, anyway?"
The other voice was definitely irritated. "Just back off, Sai!" it snapped. "Leave me alone, will you? I've got nothing to say to you right now."
"We need to talk," the first voice persisted. "You've been acting strange ever since-"
"Just shut up!"
At that moment, Flay Allster came around the corner, and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Cagalli, who was similarly startled; though in her case, more by what she'd overhead than by Flay's physical presence.
The two stared at each for a couple of seconds, and then Flay snorted and moved past, apparently deeming the blonde as beneath her notice. If she only knew, Cagalli thought to herself.
Sai Argyle didn't even acknowledge her presence; he simply brushed past, intent on getting some answers from his -ex?- fiancé. "Come on, Flay!"
To Flay's relief, Kira chose that moment to appear at the Archangel's hatch. "Kira!" she called, running to him. "I'm glad you're here!"
Kira, puzzled that she seemed to be hiding behind him, glanced around. "What's wrong, Flay?"
He got his answer when Sai came into view; Cagalli chose that moment to duck behind a rock. "There you are," the man with the orange glasses said. "Excuse me, Kira; I need to talk to Flay. It's not your business."
"Yes, it is!" Flay retorted before Kira could reply. "This has everything to do with him!" Her lips curled as she looked Sai. "Haven't you realized yet that Kira and I are together now?"
Sai's eyes widened in shock. "What?"
Ken, standing on the hill above, nodded to himself. I knew this was going to happen. Watch yourself, Kira; a guy who's just been jilted might not be quite in his right mind...
Kira felt distinctly uncomfortable, caught in the middle this way; but he had no intention of backing down either, should it come to that. Flay's made her choice, Sai, he thought coldly. Get over it. It didn't occur to him that he might not be acting in an entirely rational manner at this moment, either.
Finally, Sai found his voice again. "Well, Flay?" he said harshly, ignoring Kira completely. "Explain this to me, please. You... you..."
"I don't see why I should explain myself to you," she said coldly. "It's over between us, all right? I've got nothing more to say to you about it." She looked at Kira. "Come on, Kira. Let's go."
Still uncomfortable, Kira was only too willing to comply; this was a conversation he wanted to avoid even more than his earlier talk with Falcon. "Just forget it, Sai," he advised. "There's... no need to talk about it." He turned away, leading Flay back up the steps to the Archangel's interior.
Sai stared at him incredulously. "No need to...? Come back here, Kira!"
"I'm still tired from the last battle," the Coordinator said without turning. "Just please... leave it be."
Cagalli could see that the older teen was about to attack Kira, and she started to move; though to do what, she wasn't sure. In any case, she never got the chance. A hand closed on her wrist, and Falcon -who had dropped in moments earlier, with hardly a sound- murmured, "Don't bother. Kira can handle himself."
"If you're sure..." she said dubiously.
"I'm sure; and if I thought Sai stood a chance, he'd wake up in the Infirmary wondering why a vertebra in his neck was fractured. Now watch." He sounded almost amused; which, come to think of it, he probably was.
"Kira!" Sai shouted. Sure enough, he ran at Kira, fists tightening...
And the next thing he knew, he'd been spun around, his right arm was pinned behind his back, and he was being catapulted three meters away by a deft movement from Kira. He landed in the sand, the wind thoroughly knocked out of him.
"If I took this seriously," Kira told him, tone a mix of disgust and anger, "you'd be a lot worse off. You wouldn't stand a chance against someone like me."
Staring at the pilot in shock, Sai managed a wheezing, "Kira...?"
"It's over, Sai," Kira said, turning away. "And you should know, Flay is the only Natural on this ship that's even tried to understand what I'm going through out there; what goes through my mind in a battle." Fists clenched, he shot an angry glance over his shoulder. "It shouldn't tale a Coordinator like Falcon to stop and think that maybe I'm more than just a machine or something; more than just a part of the Strike! You haven't even tried to understand me; it never even occurred to you, did it?" He turned away again. "You don't understand me, Sai. But Flay does... and you don't understand her, either. So do us both a favor, and let it go."
He resumed his walk into the Archangel, followed closely by a startled but pleased Flay; neither of them paid any more attention to the stunned -in more ways than one- student who sat in the sand.
"That went well," Ken murmured to Cagalli.
She stared at him. "You call that going well?"
He shrugged. "At least Kira stood up for himself; I'm not sure he'd have done that a few weeks ago. He certainly wouldn't have dealt with the problem so... thoroughly. He might have-" He was interrupted by a sudden alarm klaxon, just as a headset he carried in a pocket beeped at him. "What the blazes is going on?" he muttered, putting the headset to his ear. "This is DiFalco. What's- Huh?" He listened for a moment. "Roger that. I'll be back aboard momentarily. DiFalco out."
"What's going on?" Cagalli demanded.
Ken put the com device back in his pocket. "Tassil is under attack," he said calmly. "Seems Andy Waltfeld decided to make an example of you; though I doubt he actually knows you've joined forces with us. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to my machine."
The gray trench coat vanished into the Archangel, brushing past Kira and Flay, and Cagalli turned to run for her own weapons.
Author's note: The Archangel has joined forces with the Desert Dawn, and Tassil has come under attack. Meanwhile, the truth behind Falcon's eye has finally been revealed…
Hm. Every desert chapter so far has had the word "desert" in the title; either I've got a good theme here, or I'm dreadfully unoriginal.
Ninofchaos, glad you liked it; I hope this chapter was just as good.
Deathzealot, I don't know if gunbarrels would actually work in atmosphere, but since DRAGOON units do -note the Strike Freedom- I figured it stood to reason. Still, he won't be using them much from here on out.
Ominae, Falcon's past with the "flame" will be revealed… just not for awhile yet. As per my usual practice, it will be alluded to from time to time, but won't be fully explained until the proper time.
Red Eyed Divine Dragoon77415, I surrender, okay? I know the last one was rushed; it won't happen again. I'm still looking forward to that area, but I won't hurry at the expense of quality. If nothing else, my life is easier if I keep my readers happy.
Centurious, I imagine there will be a few twists in your story; but then, with any OC in the mix, that's kind of hard to avoid. I'll be looking forward to it.
ZGMF X-10A Infinite Justice, I'm glad you're still liking it; I imagine you found this chapter "interesting" as well, given the new revelations.
NukeDawg, what I'll say about Tolle is this: if I'd known about the Dearka/Mir pairing back when I was first writing Brothers in Arms, I would probably have done things differently. Draw your own conclusions from that.
By the way, I expect I'll be reviewing your story again before long; or so I judge from the alert I had when I logged on.
WillTheWatcher, I'm afraid you may find that my stories frequently have a number of questions that aren't answered for awhile; that's kind of unavoidable. And in my experience, one of the things that keeps readers coming back is wondering what the truth behind a characters background is. Still, I'm glad you like it anyway.
Warp Ligia Obscura, there is indeed a reason for my using "Falcon" instead of "Ken" most of the time. As you no doubt saw in this chapter, it was another part of Falcon's fairly complex background; but from here on, he'll be referred to as "Ken" a fair amount of the time (at least by certain characters).
Didn't have much choice but to raise the odds in that battle; even when he's still adjusting to planetary battle conditions, Falcon is a superb pilot; he didn't live this long by being incompetent, that's for sure.
As for Kira not realizing the solution to his footing problems on his own, that comes back to Falcon's experience again. After all the time he's spent flying mobile suits in combat, I would expect him to find the solution faster than a relative newbie like Kira, and he wouldn't exactly keep the information to himself. And as for the missiles not being present, well, it just didn't seem to fit in this version. Although, given the flack I've gotten over that battle, maybe I should have done things a little differently. Well, that problem won't be happening again, if I have anything to say about it.
You're on the right track with Raptor. I won't say when or where, but eventually, and without warning, the machine simply come apart… at exactly the wrong moment, of course.
Dullindal involved with ABADDON… well, given his connections to a certain SEED character, it stands to reason that he would have been. Thanks for the suggestion; I've already got it figured into my grand design for A Call to Arms.
Infinite Freedom, I was beginning to wonder if you'd review that chapter. I find it rather interesting that one of my characters looks like a real person; completely coincidental, of course, since I had no way of knowing beforehand. And no, I'm not mad about you suggesting that name to NukeDawg; why would I be? It's just a name, and an interesting notion, at that.
Yes, the Preybird's DRAGOON units will have atmospheric flight capability; if memory serves -and it certainly should- the Strike Freedom's units can. And Falcon will be using those more than the Death Blossoms, since -with a nuclear-powered machine- power isn't really a consideration.
I don't think the Forbidden was ready by the time of the flight across the Red Sea; if I remember right, Sutherland and the others are discussing completing the new machines not long after Archangel reaches Alaska. I could be wrong, of course -I'd have to check- but I don't think it was complete at that point.
You're right about Huckebein the Raven being taken from Ace Combat 5; I was actually wondering when someone would notice that blatant reference to it. Interestingly, though, "Huckebein" translates as "hunchback". Not quite so scary-sounding in English, is it?
Thanks for passing on that message, by the way; you can tell her I said Hi, too.
Shinji Ikari, I agree completely; I rushed that last one, and believe me, I'll try to make sure that doesn't happen again.
As you may have noticed, I already went back and corrected that line of Natarle's. As for the final scene, with the SEED factor… I'm still thinking about exactly how I'm going to rework that. As for Falcon, though, the general idea was that, besides the speed involved, his body wouldn't be capable of those moves under normal circumstances; as is mentioned in this chapter, he ordinarily would have blacked out. I will grant, however, that I wasn't as clear as I should have been, and I'll try to avoid that kind of situation in the future. So yes, you were largely correct about why the SEED factor was necessary there (of course I'm now beginning to think I should have stuck with my original plan, and saved his first Berserker state for Alaska; ah, well).
Now, I tried to take into account the various points you made about Kira and Flay's relationship in this version, and I hope I did an adequate job (at the very least, it think I managed to get my point across a bit better than I did with this scene in Brothers in Arms). If not, however, feel free to berate me over it; if nothing else, it keeps me humble.
Finally, as regards when I begin A Call to Arms, no, I won't be completely halting Birds of a Feather. For one thing, I've got some interesting plans for Falcon's final encounter with Le Creuset, at Jachin, which I'd just hate to have go to waste. I hope to, if possible, surpass Brothers in Arms' final battle; certainly the battle with Le Creuset himself will be emphasized more. And as for the possibility that Destiny won't hit Cartoon Network, I find that rather unlikely; but if, in fact, it does not, I won't wait for the DVDs. I'll just bone up on the episode synopses and put my creative talents to work in winging it. With that as a framework, I should be able to manage; but I'd still prefer to see the actual episodes first.
Another hour down the drain with the notes; maybe one day I'll convince myself to shut up about it. Anyway, till next time. -Solid Shark