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

African Community, Desert Dawn Base, February 16th, C.E. 71
Controlled pandemonium gripped the resistance fighters' base, as everyone there scrambled to prepare for a fast trip to Tassil. Their home was under attack, and they had every intention of giving Andy Waltfeld and his ZAFT forces something else to worry about.

Kira and Flay, hearing the alarm that had echoed throughout the base, had stepped back outside, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. They could hear voices shouting to each other; one man sounded particularly frustrated, apparently unable to get a radio signal through to Tassil. We've got to do something, Kira thought. They're under attack; we can't just sit here and do nothing.

He pulled away from Flay's grip, and raced back to the Archangel as fast as his legs would carry him. Falcon, he knew, would already be getting ready for whatever the next battle would bring, and he didn't want to keep his mentor -and superior officer- waiting.

"Kira!" Flay called, surprised by his abrupt departure, and ran to follow him; she completely ignored Sai. The man with the orange glasses had finally gotten back to his feet, but he wasn't inclined to press his luck by following either of them.

"I'm pathetic," he whispered. "If I could fly the Strike, none of this would have happened..."

Elsewhere, as the Desert Dawn's jeeps and combat vehicles began to move out, Cagalli came barreling out of one of the caves, a rocket launcher over her shoulder. We've got to get out there, she thought, glancing around for transportation of her own. We can't let the Tiger have his way...

A jeep screeched to a halt right in front of her. "Need a lift, Cagalli?" Ahmed asked with a smile.

She smiled back. "Thanks, Ahmed." She jumped in, followed closely by her huge bodyguard, and they were off. I wonder if the Archangel will send anyone... Of course they will, Cagalli realized. That Falcon guy will be there, I'm sure; I don't know what he's up to, but I don't think this is part of his plan.

Watching the various vehicles depart, Murrue shook her head. "They certainly are in a hurry."

"Can't blame them," Mu said, scratching his head. "That is their home that's under attack." He glanced at her sidelong. "What do you think? Should we send someone with them?"

She thought about that. "We can't rule out the possibility that this is a diversionary attack," she said slowly. "Their real objective may be the Archangel. But we also can't afford to take the chance. You'd better go with them, Commander."

"Me?" He feigned confusion. "Why me?"

"The Skygraspers are the quickest way to get there, right?" Murrue replied, not buying it. "I get the feeling Falcon is going to cut himself orders to head out there, but I want you to go, as well; just to be safe."

Mu nodded. Whatever Falcon did was a part of his own agenda; everything he did and saw would be filtered through his own priorities, so he might miss details not pertinent to his own "grand design". "Okay, I'll head there right away."

As he took off running, she shouted after him. "I'll also send the Doctor and some supplies!" she called. "They'll probably need it!"

The pilot waved a hand in her direction, and was gone.

Archangel, Hangar
Sophia, not needing to hear the details to know she might be required to launch soon, was already suited up and checking over her Skygrasper when her brother entered at a dead run, wearing his own flightsuit; in this case, the power cable from the suit's chest area seemed to be connected to a belt pack of some kind. As always, she didn't ask.

"I need a ride, Sophia," he said without preamble. "Chief Murdoch tells me he's still working on reinforcing Raptor's frame, so I need you to get me to Tassil."

"Climb aboard, Falcon," Sophia said readily, indicating the Skygrasper's rear seat. "But I'm kinda surprised you didn't insist on flying yourself there."

Falcon jumped into the seat. "One: this is your machine; I wouldn't presume to commandeer it unless it was a dire emergency. Two: I have no idea how to fly this thing."

"Point," she admitted, climbing into the pilot seat. "I should have thought of that. Now, how about you call the Bridge and tell them we're leaving?"

"Good idea." He located the rear position's radio controls, and keyed a connection. "Bridge, this is Falcon; Skygrasper 2 launching with full crew for Tassil."

"Understood, Falcon," Mir replied. "Opening hatch; the Strike is standing by, if you need some heavier firepower."

"Thanks; but I think Waltfeld will be long gone by the time we get there."

Sophia turned her head. "What makes you say that?" she asked, guiding the aircraft into the catapult and feeding power to the engines.

"Tassil's population won't have been Andy's target," Ken explained. "I know the man; he's not one of those commanders who thinks Naturals are worthless. No, he'll have given them a warning and time to evac, then blown the arms caches and burned the place down; but after that, he'll be gone. No reason for him to stay any longer than that."

"I hope you're right," she remarked, piloting the Skygrasper out through the hatch. "Because I think we're going to have enough trouble keeping the Desert Dawn types from doing anything... hasty as it is."

"I know."

African Community, Sky Above Tassil
The two Skygraspers rendezvoused over the Desert Dawn vehicles as they sped across the desert to Tassil. "How's it look, Mu?" Falcon called. "See anything yet?"

Mu looked over the burning town. "It doesn't look good," he admitted. "I don't seen any sign of BuCUEs or Agiles, but the town's about burnt too a crisp."

"That's what I thought." Andy didn't care if the resistance fighters were actually involved in the fighting, the ace thought. He must have realized how we got advance warning, and took that as sufficient reason to burn Tassil to the ground. He wondered idly how Kisaka must be feeling; this was his hometown, after all. He's too professional to seek vengeance; but if other resistance fighters go looking for trouble, he'll follow them. I'm sure of it.

"Any sign of survivors?" Sophia asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"Uh... just a sec." Mu rolled his fighter, flying upside down for a few seconds as he searched the ground. "Actually," he said slowly, rolling upright again, "yes. In fact, there seem to be a large number of survivors; most of whom don't even seem to be injured. I don't understand it."

"Like I told Sophia, Mu," Falcon told him, "Andy Waltfeld isn't the type to massacre civilians. He'll have gone for the military targets -the arms dumps- and maybe burned the place down, to deprive the Desert Dawn of their infrastructure, but he won't have needlessly killed innocents in the process. I think you'll find that he gave them warning before opening fire."

"I do hope you're not condoning this," his brother said, eyes narrow. "Because it kind of sounds like you are."

"You should know me better than that. I'm not saying that this is how I'd have done it; I'm just saying that Waltfeld made sure to do it without unnecessary casualties. My personal feelings about the tactics are quite irrelevant."

"He's got a point, Mu," Sophia acknowledged.

"Yeah, true," the Hawk admitted. "Now, what do you think? Should we land here?"

"Probably a good idea," Falcon replied. "We can only see so much from up here; and besides, we may be needing to keep the more... impulsive resistance fighters in check. I don't question their courage, just their weaponry; they've got nothing that will do much against BuCUEs."

"Yeah."

African Community, Tassil
The pair of atmosphere fighters set down together just outside the burning wastes that had, just hours before, been a thriving town.

Mu waved a hand in front of his face. "Ugh. One thing I hadn't counted on was the smell; forgot how much burning buildings stink."

Falcon sniffed the air. "Buildings... and carbonized desert rat, from the smell. Not to mention whatever weapons got pulverized in the attack." He glanced at his fellow pilot with the faintest trace of a smile. "Be glad there weren't any deaths; by morning, the vultures would be out in full force, and that just wouldn't be pleasant at all. The stench, for one thing, would be about ten times worse."

"I'll take your word for it."

Sophia glanced about. "There might have been no loss of life," she mused, "but I don't think that's going to mollify the guerillas much, if you know what I mean."

Ken nodded. "Yeah, I know. These guys aren't very disciplined; and it's discipline that keeps people from striking out in the name of vengeance."

Mu raised an eyebrow. "Speaking from experience?"

A simple nod. "You might say that; Victor is undisciplined, in his way, and look where that ended up." He paused. "And if I lacked discipline, Rau Le Creuset would already be dead."

The ace turned and walked to the opposite side of the Skygrasper; it had abruptly occurred to him that he no longer needed to have the power unit plugged into his flightsuit, and he had no desire to be observed while he disconnected it.

Of course, Ken thought, I doubt I'll be able to keep it a secret forever; one of these days, I'll either forget to hook it up in the first place, or my machine will take damage that cuts off the power flow. Or maybe I'll just need to visit the Infirmary; it's not as if it would take long for the Doctor to notice that something is a little... unusual.

He supposed that there was no real reason to conceal it; but he had always felt it best to conceal things about himself, strength and weakness alike. Old habits died hard... and even he knew that he had a proud streak. It'll get me killed one day, I suppose; Cagalli's right that I'm arrogant. But I don't have a choice; I'm the only one who can stop it. Ken frowned, mood rapidly going downhill. I'm the only one who can stop Patrick from employing GENESIS... and it's my duty to be the one.

He leaned heavily against the aircraft; the gravity was getting to him again, and, as usual, he hadn't slept well during his catnap a few hours before. As always, his sleep was plagued with nightmares of nuclear fire, the devastation of a Cyclops... and the all-consuming blast from a weapon yet-unborn. That last bothered him more than even memories of the Bloody Valentine or Endymion, and would until the war came to an end.

"Hey, Falcon!" Mu called, breaking into his thoughts. "Don't you think we ought to report the situation to the Archangel?"

"Right, right." Falcon rejoined his fellow pilots, and climbed up to the Skygrasper's cockpit. Leaning in, he fiddled with the radio, and glanced down at Mu. "You want to do it, or shall I?"

His brother cocked his head. "Well, you are the ranking officer on the scene, right? That means you get to deal with this."

"I'm honored," the ace said in as dry a tone as he'd permit himself under normal circumstances. "Archangel," he said, keying the radio, "this is DiFalco; do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, Falcon," Mir replied swiftly. "I'll patch you through to the Captain."

"I'm here, Falcon," Murrue said a moment later. "What's the situation over there?"

"About as I expected," Ken replied. "The ammo dumps are write-offs, and so is most of the town; Waltfeld was pretty thorough."

She nodded grimly. "That's about I expected, too; the man didn't earn the nickname 'Desert Tiger' for nothing. What about casualties?"

"As far as I can tell..." He looked back at the refugees; Sahib now appeared to be getting a grip on the situation himself, while nearby, Cagalli was looking quietly furious. "As far as I can tell, everyone's fine."

Murrue blinked. "How is that possible?"

"From what I gather," Falcon answered, "Waltfeld gave them advance warning; give the man some credit, he isn't a murderer... unlike a few others I could name," he added under his breath. "Unfortunately, I don't think that's going to mollify these people much, and to be honest, I don't blame them. They may have survived, but their homes have burnt to a crisp." He sniffed the air in disgust. "Not to mention that it smells like a dozen rats fell into a blast furnace around here."

"I see." She wasn't sure if the pilot intended to be amusing; as always, it was hard to tell if he had the world's driest delivery, or was simply stating fact. A little of both in this case, she suspected. "Well, keep us informed, and let me know if anything else momentous happens."

"Understood; Falcon out."

"Looks like something's up," Sophia noted when Falcon got off the radio. "Sahib seems to be arguing with some of his people; I wonder the problem is."

Ken's eye narrowed. "I think I'd better go find out; w can't have these people self-destructing on us now, of all times."

He walked over to the argument, and got there just in time to hear a guerrilla with a bandana covering the lower half of his face snarl something at Sahib. "You can't expect us to just give up and resign ourselves to being the Tiger's lap dogs!"

With that one statement, Ken understood what the fractious lot intended to do. "You can't be serious," he interjected quietly. "Going after BuCUEs with your equipment is suicide."

Sahib looked at him and nodded, grateful for the backup, but Cagalli rounded on him. "Don't you think it's worth it if spending our lives gets us closer to freedom?" she demanded. "How can you question our courage, after everything-"

"I wasn't questioning your courage," he replied, "only your capabilities. Your weapons do not stand a chance against BuCUEs; I should know, I was a test pilot for them, back in the PLANTs."

The bandana-wearing man snorted. "We'll see about that, Coordinator." He used the word like an insult; something which even Cagalli did not approve of, but she never had the chance to say so.

"You are fortunate I have a thick skin, Mister," Falcon said calmly. "You are also fortunate you didn't call me a 'space monster'; that particular epithet has been known to make me angry." He shrugged. "Well, if you're that determined to go get yourselves killed, be my guest; I guess the rest of us will just have to try and pick up the pieces afterwards."

Sahib, watching the pilot stalk away, realized then that involving the man might have been a mistake; as an ex-ZAFT ace, he didn't garner trust very easily. Sahib himself didn't have any problems with him... but he could tell that wasn't the case with some of his people.

Now, seeing the angry resistance fighter and his faction get in their artillery trucks and drive off, he had to make a decision. No choice, he thought. Can't let them go off and get themselves killed all alone. He gestured to his own driver, and climbed in.

Cagalli, who had followed after Falcon a few paces, stopped. "What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.

He didn't look at her. "My job," he said simply. "Whether I follow them or not depends on Captain Ramius' threat assessment; if she feels the Archangel is in too much danger, I'll probably be heading straight back. If not... she'll probably leave it to my discretion."

"And if she does?"

Ken glanced over his shoulder. "Than Andy learns firsthand how I got my reputation. You don't abandon allies, for any reason." He began walking again. "If you want to catch up with them, you'd better hurry; I'll see you later."

He didn't bother to see where she went from there.

Natarle was there when Falcon rejoined the group; she'd arrived a few minutes earlier in a jeep, and was now shaking her head in bemusement. "I can't believe they're actually doing it; don't they know what they're up against out there?"

"They know," the pilot said softly. "But they don't care; vengeance can blind you to risks. To be fair, they have reason to be angry." His eye narrowed. "But they should have anticipated something like this might happen."

"But they'll be slaughtered!" she protested.

"You're right about that," Mu agreed with a slight smile. "So, what'll we do about it?"

"Don't ask me," Natarle replied, uncharacteristically uncertain. "I haven't a clue."

"But I do," Ken broke it. "We're going to report this to the Captain, and then you, Sophia," he said, turning to his sister, "are going to fly me back to the Archangel. I suspect I'll have things to do by morning."

Sophia nodded. "Got it, Falcon."

Archangel, Bridge
In the end, it was Mu who reported to the Archangel; Falcon had decided that, whatever Murrue's decision was, he'd be called back to the ship soon enough anyway, so he preferred to get a head start.

"...so they just packed up and went after the BuCUEs," he finished. "Falcon's warning about the disparity in capabilities didn't faze them at all; I don't think they trust him. Not a surprise, I guess, since he is ex-ZAFT."

Murrue slowly shook her head. "Couldn't you have tried to stop them, Commander?"

He snorted. "Sorry, Ma'am, but I'm not suicidal. They were so worked up that if I tried, they'd attack me. Besides, if they didn't listen to their leader, they weren't very likely to listen to me." The Hawk shrugged. "In any case, we have more pressing problems to deal with here. There's the matter of food, and -especially- water. Fortunately, that isn't much in the way of injuries, but still..."

She nodded. "Understood. I'll send some more supplies ASAP. In the meantime... we can't just let them get themselves killed out there. I'll send Ensign Yamato to check up on them."

Mu raised an eyebrow. "What about Falcon?"

"That's his business." Murrue smiled wryly. "I've given up trying to second-guess him, so I'll just let him figure out what he should be doing."

"Understood; La Flaga out."

As his image disappeared from the screen, she looked down into CIC. "Crewman Haw, order the Strike to launch immediately; and ask Commander DiFalco what his intentions are."

"Yes, Ma'am," Mir replied. "Kira, prepare the Strike for immediate launch."

"Roger that."

She switched to the Bridge link with the Raptor; she assumed the ace would be there already. "Falcon, the Captain wants to know what you intend to do."

"I'm launching as well," Ken replied. "I'll hang back, at least at first -I'm not sure Kira will need any help- but I'll be there. I'm leaving Sophia and Skygrasper 2 here, though; no reason to leave the ship completely defenseless."

"Got it." Mir paused. "Do you know what you'll be up against out there?"

"If the townspeople's reports can be trusted, just three BuCUEs." He shrugged. "Now that we know how to fight here, I don't think they'll be much trouble for Kira... unless Waltfeld himself decides to take a hand. He's good."

She nodded grimly. "Do you think that's likely?"

"Hard to say; knowing him, he might just decide to fight the Strike himself. The man doesn't get excited by much besides his coffee, so he'd probably relish the challenge. Like I said, hard to say." Falcon lowered his visor. "If you'll excuse us, I believe Kira and I need to get going."

"Roger that; good luck out there, guys."

"I don't believe in luck."

Archangel, Catapults
"G-weapons versus BuCUEs, Round 2," Ken remarked. "Ready for it, Kira?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Kira looked up at his mentor's image. "I just hope we don't have a repeat of that last battle."

"We won't," the ace said confidently. "We know what we're dealing with this time, and how to deal with it; and besides, there's only three."

"Hey, Commander," Murdoch broke in. "You need any extra hardware today?"

Falcon shook his head. "Negative, Chief; out there, against BuCUEs, maneuverability is the name of the game, and any special weapons would just serve to slow me down. The rifle and sabers will do fine; I won't need anything else unless it gets a lot hairier than I expect."

"Okay." The mechanic hesitated. "Remember what I told you earlier, Commander: you stressed Raptor pretty bad last time, so be careful out there; if start getting some nasty vibration while you're flying, don't wait around. Just punch out, and hope you don't get caught by flying debris. If you don't feel excessive vibration... well, I can't promise you it won't fall apart anyway."

"Understood, Chief; I'll be careful."

"And let me know how she performs; that'll give me a better idea of how long you got before you fly apart at the seams."

"Will do." Falcon switched frequencies, and tightened his grip on the controls; fortunately for his health, he'd already plugged in the power cable. "This is the Grimaldi Falcon; Raptor Gundam heading out."

Kira watched the slate-gray near-copy of the Strike shoot out of the catapult as if fired from a cannon, and imitated his mentor. "Kira Yamato here; Strike, heading out!"

Now the two machines headed out for another rendezvous with the forces of the legendary Desert Tiger himself.

Libyan Desert, Between Tassil and Banadiya
During the long drive back to Banadiya, Andrew Waltfeld reclined comfortably in his seat. Another bit of business done, he thought, reflecting on the destruction of the Desert Dawn's weapons. Now maybe the gnats won't bite as hard.

Of course, he hadn't forgotten one of the Grimaldi Falcon's axioms that applied to this situation. Lesson Twenty-one: If you cannot defeat the enemy by numbers, remember: even the smallest of creatures can nibble the largest to death.

The Desert Dawn were a nuisance, Waltfeld admitted. Even a threat, however small. But they were also undisciplined, and if he'd read them right, that meant they would be having a little action before long.

At least it'll make DaCosta happy, he thought idly.

As if on cue, his protégé sighed. "Can't we go any faster than this?" he complained, over the noise of the BuCUEs plodding after them.

"Eager to return to base, eh?" Waltfeld said with a knowing smile. "Heat bothering you again? You should be used to it by now."

"It's not that," DaCosta said, mildly irritated. "It's just that- if we keep moving at this speed, those resistance fighters will catch up to us."

The Tiger shrugged and leaned back again. "If so, then we're meant to meet; it's fate. Besides," he pointed out, "their artillery trucks are no match for our BuCUEs."

"Which is something they should know," his aide replied, trying another tack. "If the Grimaldi Falcon is with the legged ship, and the ship had joined forces with the resistance fighters, then they'll know about that; which means they may be planning a trap."

Waltfeld shook his head. "Somehow, I don't think so," he said calmly. "They won't easily trust a ZAFT deserter; and even if they do, I suspect they'll be thinking more with their emotions than their brains right now. No, I don't think they'll try anything more subtle than a frontal assault, and a frontal assault is something we can deal with easily enough." He smiled slightly. "Besides, when people are in a difficult situation, you often hear them say, 'Better to perish'; but do you think they honestly mean it? I don't."

"If you say so," DaCosta said dubiously. "Then I guess-"

In one of the BuCUEs, a pilot looked up as his display beeped at him. "Commander?" he called. "I have vehicles on radar; six, no, eight vehicles. They're artillery trucks, probably belonging to the resistance fighters."

Waltfeld's eyebrows went up. "Maybe those people would rather perish, after all."

Here we go, Cagalli thought, as the trucks launched themselves from a sand dune and sped straight toward Waltfeld's forces. Time for a little payback.

Ahead of her vehicle, another edged slightly ahead of the pack. "Go for the jeep!" one guerilla said, raising a rocket launcher to his shoulder. "This time, we're hunting the Tiger!" He fired the crude but effective weapon; while not a very accurate weapon, it would suffice if it hit anywhere near Waltfeld's jeep.

If.

One of the BuCUEs, piloted by a fellow named Kirkwood, jumped into the path of the explosive projectile; the rocket exploded harmlessly against the machine's armor. "You'll have to do better than that," he whispered, grinning to himself. "Seriously, taking artillery trucks up against mobile suits? You're out of your minds."

Raising his machine's right forepaw, Kirkwood admitted that the trucks did have one advantage: they were just about impossible to hit with the armament his BuCUE had. On the other hand, they were so fragile that all he really had to do was run into them or step on them; compared to a mobile suit, they might as well have been made of tissue paper.

Before he could smash the irritating little bug, another rocket lanced out, followed quickly by one more. Both were from Cagalli's vehicle, and though hers hit only the tough leg armor, Kisaka's slammed right into an ankle joint, causing the big machine to slew over and hit the sand; that one was out of action.

"We did it!" Ahmed shouted jubilantly.

"Yeah!" Cagalli agreed, reloading. See, Falcon? she thought at the no doubt far-distant pilot. We can do some damage to BuCUEs.

Kirkwood's comrades weren't terribly amused to note that she was right. They decided to show their displeasure, in fact, and one of them did so by wrenching his machine around on its treads and charging right at a cluster of the resistance fights' vehicles.

"Get out of the way!" Sahib shouted, trying in vain to be heard over the distance and noise. "Those things will go right through-!"

His warning came too late. Before the guerillas could even hope to move out of the BuCUE's path, the huge machine had run right through three trucks as if they weren't even there. "Take that!" the pilot shouted, pleased at his act of retribution.

"Bastards!" Cagalli hissed. She fired off another rocket; but her shot was hasty and came just as Ahmed was yanking the wheel for another wild maneuver. The projectile hit the sand and exploded too close to the truck, and fragments from the explosive ripped into the rear tires, shredding them.

"This isn't good!" Ahmed shouted, struggling to retain control. "We're gonna crash!"

Their intended target saw their predicament, and the pilot smiled. "You're not getting away, Naturals," he said to himself. "Try this!" The BuCUE's paw came up for a killing swipe...

And a green dart caught his machine in the back, blowing off its missile launcher. The shot from nowhere was instantly followed by another, from a different angle, which just missed; and an inhuman, ascending wail over the airwaves and through the desert air.

The cavalry had arrived.

DaCosta stared in disbelief as both Earth Forces mobile suits appeared on the battlefield, spitting green energy bolts all over the place. "The Earth Forces machines... came to rescue them? But why?"

Waltfeld nodded to himself, observing the slate-gray machine as it hovered protectively over the truck it had just saved. "I guess the legged ship is serious about this alliance of theirs. Hmm." His eyes narrowed. "Three BuCUEs against two G-weapons, with one of our machines temporarily out of action, and the other disarmed. This could be a problem." He turned to his protégé. "Is Commander Huckebein within range to assist?"

DaCosta checked the small radar map on the dashboard. "Looks that way, Commander."

"Good; signal him. Only beam weapons will do much to Phase-shift. One machine we can take the time to wear down, but not two." Besides, Waltfeld didn't add, maybe this time DiFalco will actually get rid of the guy for us... finally.

Victor Tempest was not well-liked among ZAFT; and it was becoming a popular theory among them that their wayward soul was deliberately leaving Tempest alive for this very reason.

"Got a problem here, Falcon," Kira called. "I missed, when my computer said it should have been dead-on."

Falcon nodded, still keeping half an eye on the truck beneath him. "I know; I was trying for a decap shot on my target. We're still missing something here." He shrugged. "Keep working on it, and keep those BuCUEs busy, will you? I'm gonna land and check on that truck."

"Got it," his friend acknowledged. "And... try to make sure she doesn't get killed, okay?" There was no question of which "she" he was referring to, but it puzzled the ace somewhat.

Ah, he thought, setting down near the now-stopped vehicle, they probably just hit it off... after hitting each other. But I don't recall Kira "hitting it off" with someone quite so soon before...

Falcon shrugged it off. He'd only known Kira for a little over four months; how would he know how long it took for Kira to get to know someone?

Now grounded, the pilot disconnected the power cable, unstrapped, and opened the hatch, before climbing down to the ground. "You guys okay?" he called.

Kisaka nodded, still as calm as ever. "Just barely; you have my thanks, Commander."

Ken shrugged. "It was nothing, really."

Cagalli looked at him through narrowed eyes. Why do I have a feeling I've had this conversation with someone before? "It wasn't 'nothing' to us," she pointed out. "You just saved our lives."

"The truck's a write-off, though," Ahmed said gloomily. "My own fault, too; if I hadn't turned right when I did, it wouldn't have..."

"My fault," she disputed. "I should have checked my fire-"

Kisaka opened his mouth, but Ken beat him to it. "Shut up, why don't you," he said wearily. "Both of you. Ahmed, you would have been smashed if you hadn't made that turn; and Cagalli, you couldn't have known what was about to happen. Why don't you just remember that this kind of things happens in combat; Murphy's fell presence is everywhere."

Cagalli smiled. "I suppose you have a 'lesson' for this, too?" She'd heard about those.

"Yeah. Lesson Thirty-five: Friendly fire isn't." He looked up at the battle raging amongst the gargantuan war machines; it looked like Kira had gotten the accuracy problem taken care off, because he was now actively engaging the BuCUEs again. "Well, I suggest you three get as far away from the battle zone as you can, with that crippled truck; I need to get airborne again." He started back toward his machine.

"Wait!" She grabbed his arm. "I'm going with you."

Ken glanced at her. "Excuse me?"

"That machine has a gunner's seat, right? So give me a chance to shoot back at them." Cagalli met his eye -eyes- challengingly. "Unless you have a problem flying with women?"

The brief flicker in his visible eye, and the momentary facial tic, told her that what she'd just said had struck a chord. But he said only, "No, I don't; I've flown with female pilots before." He jerked his head at the Raptor. "Then hurry up; I've got a bad feeling about this."

Cagalli climbed into the Raptor's rear seat, and once again noted just how good the technologies Morgenroete had developed with the Earth Forces were. This machine was state of the art, no doubt about it; Falcon was strapping himself in as though he did it every day.

Which he probably does, she thought, securing her own restraints. He didn't get to be ZAFT's highest-scoring ace by not practicing. But what's with that power cable? Like Sophia, she didn't bother to ask. If he wanted to tell her, he'd do so in his own good time.

"You secure back there?" Ken called.

"Yeah," she replied.

"Good; I'm giving you control of the cannons; don't even bother trying to use the Death Blossoms, though. Few people can handle them at all, and they're power hogs in atmosphere."

"Right." As the machine took to the skies again, Cagalli examined the controls, attempting to get a feel for the machine as fast as she could. "Hey, Ken," she said after a moment, "I think there's something heading this way."

"What?" He glanced at his own display. "Uh oh." Another heat signature appeared... and he recognized it, though he expected the weapons had been upgraded since he last saw the specs. "We've got a LaGOWE approaching," he said calmly, maintaining his detachment. "If my luck is as bad as I think it is, that'll be a certain former subordinate of mine, who wants very much to kill me."

"What did you do to him?" she asked curiously.

"I killed him." His fingers flew over the controls. "Unfortunately, I didn't kill him quite as dead I'd intended." The pilot keyed his radio. "Kira, what's your status?"

"I got the accuracy problem figured out," Kira replied, lining up on a BuCUE. "Compensate for the heat convection, and..."

"Got it." Ken pulled down his keyboard and started typing. "Look, you'll have to handle those BuCUEs; I've got a bigger fish to play with."

"Roger that." Kira didn't know what Falcon was talking about, but he'd learned to just take the more experienced pilot's word for things, at least in battle. "I'll be fine."

"Good." Not that the ace expected anything else; his young -Young, sure; and you're not?- friend had learned well from his own example, and was a natural pilot, to boot. He wouldn't have any problems. "Now, Cagalli," Falcon said to his gunner, "I suggest you charge the cannons; I think we're about to have problems."

Kira, for his part, had put Ken's predicament completely out of his mind; as the ace had taught him, he was concentrating on his own job, and ignoring a problem which would undoubtedly be solved before long. His problem was a trio of BuCUEs, and even if one of them had been disarmed, it could still knock him off-balance just by jumping at him, just like the batch from that last battle.

Or they could try, anyway. This time he had the Aile pack, which gave him atmospheric flight capabilities; an invaluable advantage against the ground-hugging BuCUEs. They could jump, but not as high, and couldn't stay up for as long.

He'd need those advantages. These pilots didn't get into the Waltfeld team by being pathetic.

Kira jumped backwards a pace, using his verniers for a little extra push, and punched the weaponless BuCUE in the jaw, knocking it flying; then turned his attention to the one that still had its missile launcher. That one will be the real threat, he thought, watching it carefully, analyzing its movements; that was another thing Ken had taught him: to observe the enemy, and take advantage of his weaknesses.

Meanwhile, the third BuCUE had finally managed to get itself moving again. "That's better," Kirkwood said to himself. "Now let's show the Strike a thing or two." He got ready to move... but was shortly interrupted by his commander.

"Kirkwood!" Waltfeld called. "Get down here; I want to take a crack at that guy myself."

"Yes sir!" Kirkwood replied instantly. He wasn't too pleased about having to turn his machine over to someone else, but on the other hand, watching the Desert Tiger work tended to be... interesting.

After annihilating a missile swarm with his CIWS, Kira maneuvered the Strike around to get a tactical advantage against the machine that had fired it. "The best avenue for attack is from behind," Falcon had told him, during a simulation run. "With certain rare exceptions -such as machines with wired gunbarrels- mobile weapons can't fire backwards. Use that to your advantage, and take out the enemy as efficiently as possible."

He had not, Kira noticed, encouraged him to use the same disarming tactics he favored.

Now I've got you, Kira thought. Strike's foot lashed out, catching the BuCUE in the leg and knocking it off-balance, and his rifle came up. He waited for the targeting circles to come together, tightened his finger on the trigger...

A missile barrage caught him in the back, throwing off his aim, and he cursed. I should have figured, he thought, irritated with himself. Wrapped up as he was in his effort to destroy two of the BuCUEs, he'd forgotten the third, and now it was back with a vengeance.

"Okay, hotshot," Waltfeld whispered, bearing down on the Strike. "Let's see how well you do against me." He smiled. "It won't be as easy as you think."

"Enemy entering firing range," Cagalli called. "Judging from what you've said, we're in his range now, too."

"Indeed," Ken agreed. You've had military training somewhere along the line, he thought to himself. I'm sure of it; but it doesn't matter right now. "Be ready to fire the cannons; and don't wait for me to tell you. I expect my gunners to exercise initiative."

"As if I was planning to wait," she shot back, but without rancor.

Ken keyed his radio again, setting it to the ZAFT frequency he expected the LaGOWE to be using. His first transmission was not, of course, verbal; but this time he followed the hunting call with actual words. "Is that you, Victor, or has my luck changed for the better?"

"Now, why would I give you that pleasure, Boss?" Huckebein asked pleasantly. "You had to have known I'd be back; and you know why, too."

"Hmm..." Falcon frowned, mock-pensive. "You're back to take revenge for that time I managed to accidentally put turpentine in your coffee, right?"

His old subordinate barked a laugh. "Well, you haven't lost your sense of humor, I see. You know better than that." He paused. "I want to kill you."

"What a stunning revelation," Ken said dryly. "I'm sure Kyle Kreitzman wouldn't have been able to figure that one out; but then, that idiot could never find his own backside without radar, a laser designator, and inertial guidance."

Cagalli blinked at the interplay. She'd known that there was a real, feeling person behind the facade -the way he opened up after she took off his eyepatch had proven that- but she was unaccustomed to such humor coming from him... biting though it might be. She didn't know who Kyle Kreitzman was, but she had the distinct feeling that Ken wasn't very fond of him.

Huckebein shook his head. "You know, Falcon, it never ceases to amaze me how you can talk so much in the middle of a battle. What is this, psychological warfare?"

"Ever hear of delaying tactics?" the ace shot back.

"Ridiculous," the ZAFT pilot snorted.

"Is it? Then why are we sitting around talking, instead of trying to blast each other to bits?"

Cagalli saw in that instant what the pilot had intended with his stream of chatter, and, without warning, targeted and fired the Raptor's beam cannons.

Though Huckebein's reflexes were good enough for him to jump clear, the speed and accuracy of the shot still surprised Ken. That's remarkable... and she's no Natural, not with what she can do. The conclusion, which he didn't really have time to dwell on, was born of a great deal of combat experience, watching and analyzing the differences between Natural and Coordinator battle tactics and reaction speed.

At the moment, it was irrelevant. "Good shot," he said simply. "It came close to working."

Cagalli snorted. "They say close only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades."

"True." Ken tapped controls, and Raptor's right-hand saber flashed into bright, fiery life. "Just remember one thing: while killing Victor would be ideal, the important thing is to remove him from the tactical situation. If that means disabling instead of killing, fine."

"Okay."

The LaGOWE now began to circle Raptor, moving quickly on its treads. "I should've expected a cheap shot like that from you, Falcon," Tempest sneered. "Just like that day, last year."

Victor let out a scream as his fingers fell away. "You bastard!" he shrieked. "You'll die for that!"

"You brought it on yourself, Victor," Falcon said coldly; he, too, was in considerable pain, and his left eye was blinded by the blood pouring over it. "Suffer a traitor's death; our friendship is no more."

Tempest's lips curled in a snarl of hate, and his blade came around, clutched in his remaining fingers. With all his strength, he brought the katana down in a diagonal slice...

Falcon parried the blow with absurd ease, and his own blade shot forward, plunging deep in his onetime student's chest...

"If you'll remember, Victor," Ken replied, watching the four-legged machine's movements carefully, "you were the one who struck the first blow. Or do you want me to say I'm sorry for stabbing you in the chest?"

"It won't change your fate," Huckebein replied with a slight smile, "but it'd be a start."

The ace shrugged. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry I cut out your heart." He paused a beat, just long enough for his gunner to give him a strange look. "I'm sorry I cut out your heart instead of your head."

Tempest sneered again. "I should have known. Well, you're right you should be sorry you didn't finish me!" Abandoning the circling, his LaGOWE leapt forward, head-mounted double-bladed beam saber igniting as he tried to cut Raptor in half.

Ken hadn't been watching him for nothing. He anticipated the attack, sidestepped, and slashed down in one sleek motion. Blades of scarlet fire clashed, slid against each other, and flashed apart again in a beautiful yet deadly dance of fire.

He sighed, bringing the blade back up to guard. "We're going to be at this all day."

Kira was off-balance. Again. Because -again- he'd gotten a little overconfident. One of these days, he promised himself, he'd stop doing that.

This time, it was because he'd gotten used to facing run-of-the-mill BuCUE pilots... and now he was dealing with the Desert Tiger himself.

Not that he was aware of it.

What Kira was aware of was the fact that he was getting hammered. The three BuCUEs had assumed a delta formation, with two of them -including Waltfeld's- bombarding him with missiles, while the third, disarmed machine kept leaping into him, using full-contact maneuvers to keep him off-balance and give its fellows numerous openings for attack.

Kira cried out as the thoroughly-irritating machine hit him again, giving Waltfeld the chance to pepper him with missiles. This isn't good, he thought. I have to find some way to counter it; if I don't get the upper hand back, I'm doomed. He couldn't even ask Falcon for help; the ace was busy dealing with an even more capable machine.

Waltfeld grinned to himself. "You're not gonna get so lucky this time, hotshot," he murmured. "Even if you only use kinetic attacks, the Phase-shift still uses power to guard against each hit; and after seventy-six missile hits, the PSA is going down... along with power to the beam rifle." He'd studied the captured G-weapon data very carefully indeed.

Kira hit his verniers, arresting his fall before he could hit the sand, and managed to jerk to one side before a missile could hit the Strike full in the face. The pressure was building again, along with the tension; soon, spectacular things might be happening...

"So, you weird and wonderful pilot," Waltfeld called, unleashing another storm of fast-moving explosives, "how are you gonna get out of this one?" Those missiles would reach the critical seventy-six mark...

Behind Kira's eyes, an amethyst seed shattered.

Strike very abruptly ceased all forward movement, going into full reverse... and bringing its Igelstellungs into perfect alignment with the oncoming swarm. The CIWS systems, while useless against hard targets, worked wonderfully against the missiles, and just a few short bursts were enough to destroy half of them; the rest consumed themselves in proximity soft-kills.

Waltfeld cursed. "He's good. All right, break and attack! If he doesn't get the chance to concentrate on any one of us..."

In the last battle, Kira had been hard-pressed to deal with two BuCUEs... but this time, he had the mobility advantage of the Aile Striker, and a much better idea of desert fighting conditions; not to mention the Berserker state.

Eyes clear and calm, Kira dropped the Strike to mere meters above the sand, using the backwash from his thrusters to create a mini-sandstorm, which completely obscured the Strike from view for precious seconds. By the time Waltfeld's pilots knew what was going on, it was too late.

A single green dart blazed out of the storm, vaporizing sand as it went and penetrating the belly of the disarmed BuCUE as precisely as if Kira hadn't been trying to aim through a sandstorm. It blew the machine clean in half, the pieces soaring away in two different directions; the pilot was still alive, but the injuries he sustained from the landing would keep him out of action for a long time to come.

Waltfeld cursed again, and not nearly as mild as the first time. "Now you've gone too far, hotshot!" In tandem, he and his remaining subordinate charged the Strike, firing missiles and preparing for ramming attacks; surely even this strange pilot would have difficulty dealing with that all by himself.

Perhaps he did... but Kira had a solution to that, too. He threw away his shield, snatched out his beam saber, and sliced into Waltfeld's BuCUE, cutting off a foreleg, one wing, and half his missile pod with one swift, smooth motion. Without waiting to see what became of the Tiger's machine, he let go of his beam rifle, caught the final machine's leg in the now-empty hand... and hurled it toward the conflict between Raptor and the LaGOWE.

Several things happened very fast. The BuCUE, guided by Kira's boosted instincts, sailed directly between Huckebein and the Raptor just as the LaGOWE was making another lunge; the result was that, instead of the head-mounted saber cleaving into Raptor's armor, it cut off a good chunk of the BuCUE's back end... just as Cagalli saw her opportunity.

Having so far felt slightly useless, she wasted no time in triggering the Raptor's cannons now. The twin beams of green death caught the four-legged machine squarely in the back, detonating the missile pod and ripping the entire machine to shreds.

Ken took a moment to pump his fist in a rare display of satisfaction. "Good shot," he congratulated; and turned his attention back to Huckebein. "Your friends are leaving, Victor; at least the ones who still can. Now, I'm afraid that I no longer have any time to play with you." Besides, he thought to himself, as annoying as you may be, I somehow think ZAFT isn't very happy with you, either. Right now, it may be to my advantage to leave you alive. If nothing else, you serve as a distraction... and, perhaps, a liability, which Patrick may eventually eliminate himself.

"Well, you'd better make time, Falcon," Huckebein sneered. "Unless you want to just lie down and-"

Ken moved.

He fired the Panzer Eisen rocket anchor, catching the LaGOWE's back-mounted beam cannon, then pulled back savagely with Raptor's left arm. The cannon came off, while the G-weapon's right arm was still moving.

For one as experienced as he, now that he'd acclimated to the environment, it was child's play to throw the beam saber in a spinning arc, cutting right through all four of the LaGOWE's feet... and just incidentally making sure its only movement was by treads.

Tempest, for all his faults, knew when he was beaten. "Another time, traitor!" he snarled, and turned tail. "Commander Waltfeld, I suggest we bug out of here immediately!"

"Agreed," the Tiger replied. "All units, return to base immediately." He was, interestingly, in a much better mood than the once-dead masked madman. "That was fun," he murmured to himself. "Been awhile since I faced such a... challenging opponent." He smiled. "We'll meet again, Strike pilot. Count on it."

But if he could, he wanted to meet the pilot face-to-face before their next confrontation on the battlefield. It would be... interesting.

Raptor just stood by, letting them go. "Aren't we going to go after them?" Cagalli demanded.

Ken shook his head. "No, let them go; this battle is over." He shrugged. "Never let it be said that Victor Tempest isn't good at keeping himself alive; and besides, I have no particular desire to kill Andy Waltfeld." He glanced at the Strike, then at the resistance fighters, who had gathered to watch the conflict between the towering machines. "For now, it's time to regroup."

After Cagalli and Ken had exited the Raptor, and joined the assembled guerillas, Kira himself finally powered down his own machine and lowered himself to the ground. He'd taken his time about it, though; he'd been considering the events that had just occurred, and became increasingly disgusted as he did so.

They were nearly wiped out today, he thought derisively, and for what? If Falcon and I hadn't turned up, they would be dead. What's the use in fighting if you just throw away your lives like that?

He actually had no idea if Falcon would agree with him or not; under other circumstances, he'd have assumed so, but not after seeing Cagalli leave the Raptor. That indicated to him that perhaps the ace's views were slightly different from what Kira might expect.

In any case, Falcon would expect him to speak his mind, and he had every intention of doing so.

"Are you looking to get yourselves killed?" Kira asked without preamble. "Here, of all places?"

Cagalli looked at him suspiciously. You'd better not say what I think you're about to say, she thought, anger building. If you do...

"You must have a death wish or something," he went on. "Are you actually trying to throw away your lives for no reason?"

"That's it!" she snarled, running up to him. "You have no idea what you're talking about! We all fought desperately; we're still fighting desperately; all so that we can protect-!"

Kira slapped her.

Sahib and Kisaka looked slightly stunned, Ahmed turned a look of outrage upon the pilot, and Ken observed it all from behind his impassive facade. He has a point, Cagalli, he thought analytically. You did well out there... but it wasn't very bright to come here in the first place.

Kira evidently had much the same thought in mind. "Just what can you hope to protect when you've got nothing but feelings for weapons?" he demanded harshly. "Well?"

No one had an answer to that... except, perhaps, the one among them who had come all this way because of his "feelings".

Author's note: Tassil has been razed to the ground, Victor Tempest is still making a nuisance of himself, and Kira and Waltfeld have met on the battlefield for the first time. Soon, the pair will meet again… this time, off the field of battle.

Okay, I know this chapter is up pretty fast, but I think I can safely say this one wasn't rushed. And yes, I realize Huckebein made a pretty poor showing this time around, but that'll change, as he becomes accustomed to his new machine. In his next appearance, he'll be a bit more of a threat.

Ominae, it'll be a little while yet before Ken's confederates make their presences known; but believe me, you'll know when they do. I'd call it…five or six more chapters, give or take; I should be able to compress Phases 20 and 21 into a single chapter, given how little significance "On a Calm Day" has for my purposes. Probably Phases 23 and 24, as well; I'll once again have an… interesting spin on the events on the island where Cagalli and Athrun crash land.

I'm afraid I haven't seen Area 88, as it happens; in fact, I have no idea what it is. My anime interests are pretty much limited to Gundam, and of that, mostly Wing and SEED (I used to have some interest in G-Gundam, but gave it up because of its somewhat ridiculous premise).

Infinite Freedom, I actually have other, rather elaborate, plans for the Raptor, following its destruction. That won't be the last you see of it, believe me; pieces of it will be used for other purposes. As for Mu, your suggestion of giving him the Raptor has given me a couple of other ideas; and Sophia, well… let's just say I have a few notions along those lines.

There are problems with the idea of having Canard Pars turn up; foremost among them the fact that I no absolutely nothing about him beyond the fact that he's a failed product of the Ultimate Coordinator Project. At least with a couple of others that'll be turning up, such as Lowe Guele and Shiho Hahnenfuss, I have some idea as to their backgrounds.

As regards the pairings… well, let's simply say the situation is still fluid. I have a couple of different ideas kicking around, one of which would require rather more creative thought than the other. Beyond that, I will not comment.

I do indeed have a certain fondness for birds of prey; in the case of Birds of a Feather, I simply thought it appropriate, especially given the existence of the Hawk of Endymion. But the battle cry thing… I'm not sure that's exactly Sophia's style, and besides, she, unlike her adopted brother, is a Natural. It's theoretically possible she could do it, but it wouldn't come as naturally -no pun intended- as it does for Falcon.

NukeDawg, thanks for reviewing, as always; I think I already responded to your comments in a review for your story, but in case anyone else thought I was referring to the ZGMF-X10A and the Eternal, let me clarify here, as well: the thought had not even occurred to me. I was simply making use of a quote; I don't know where it originally came from -I originally ran across it in Wing Commander IV- but, having come across it a couple of other places, I think it's pretty old.

HeavyarmsBuster-01, you are quite correct; I was wondering when someone would notice that. In fact, if you look back, you'll note that in physical appearance, Ken is essentially a taller version of Heero, with an eyepatch. Same eye and hair color, for one -or is that two?- thing.

Lipana, welcome to the story; and actually, Cagalli didn't precisely "beat" Ken. If she hadn't knocked off his eyepatch, he'd have cleaned her clock in the end; what happened there was a fluke.

Not sure what you mean about being confused about Cagalli's genetic disposition; the series pretty clearly implies that she's a Coordinator, even if it never states it outright. On the other hand, if you're wondering why Falcon thinks of her as such, it's simply that he doesn't know better… at that point.

And no, Cagalli won't be flying the Skygrasper; as you saw in this chapter, I had other ideas. One consequence of this, as you might imagine, is that the events of Phase 24 will be somewhat… different. She'll still end up on the island, of course, but it won't go quite according to canon. (Of course, it didn't in my last story either, but this will be even further from the series.)

Centurious, glad you liked it; I hope my advice was at least somewhat helpful, by the way.

X-19A Infinite Justice, you're quite right about Ken thinking Cagalli isn't a Natural; that will be expounded upon later.

As for his eye, that was pretty much what I wanted people to think; as usual, I preferred to keep the truth concealed until the proper moment.

Warp Ligia Obscure, Falcon does indeed have a unique SEED factor; as a consequence, he won't be using it as often as Kira does. But when he does enter the Berserker state, the results will tend to be… spectacular.

Yes, I know I haven't yet explained why Falcon needs to connect to his mobile suit's power supply during battle; but, as usual, that's because I have a specific point in the story in mind for that. And the explanation might be a little different from what you expect…

I wouldn't say that Falcon got "trashed" by Cagalli; it was, as I mentioned earlier, more in the nature of a fluke. If his eyepatch hadn't been knocked off -or if he hadn't been in the middle of a desert- he would almost certainly have won eventually.

I don't quite know what you mean about my altering Cagalli's genetic nature; do you mean that I have her a Natural when she should be a Coordinator, or a Coordinator when she should be a Natural? It seems to me that the series -Phase 41 in particular- pretty strongly implies that she's a Coordinator. The only reason Falcon thinks of her as a Natural is because he has no way of knowing any different at that point.

The talk between Ken and Kira might not have done much good overall, at least at this point; but the ace will definitely be interfering with Flay's intentions more in a little while. You'll see what I mean.

As regards the DRAGOON System, perhaps Kira doesn't use the Strike Freedom's in atmosphere, but Rey Za Burrel certainly uses his in atmosphere, or so I have read; seems to me that it ought to work.

That's that, I guess; and I won't even bother to rant about how long it took me to write these blasted notes. Let me know what you think, and till next time: -Solid Shark