I don't own anything except Ken DiFalco, his team, and Sophia DiFalco
PLANTs, Martius Three, February 21st, C.E. 71
A large man in ZAFT red strode down a decrepit hallway in a theoretically-abandoned military facility, a report under his arm. He was slightly late for his meeting, but the report was important enough to make up for it... even if it was nearly midnight.
The big fellow was Sparky Cooper, and the base was a former ZAFT facility officially listed as abandoned; unofficially, it had been taken over by the surviving Gray Demons. Though all three were on active duty elsewhere, they all knew their real work was accomplished here.
"You're late, Sparky," a lithe, red-uniformed youth with iron-gray hair -which he'd had from birth- observed when the bigger man entered the conference room.
"Sorry, Tom," Sparky replied. "But a courier arrived at the Residence this afternoon, with an interesting package." He dropped the report on the table. "According to Master Siegel, it was sent by Andrew Waltfeld, just yesterday."
Green-haired Leanne Eldridge, a relative of the Le Creuset team's Nicol Amalfi -first cousin, in fact- frowned. "The Desert Tiger?" She picked up the report, glancing at the header. "But that's got the Boss's header; why would Andy Waltfeld...?"
Sparky shrugged. "We're not sure yet; but there are rumors the Boss was in Banadiya the day this was sent up. That might have something to do with it."
Tom Delaney nodded thoughtfully. "If anyone would understand anything about the Boss's plans, it would be Andy; especially if the Commander confronted him with GENESIS."
Leanne shook her head. "You know he wouldn't do that, Tom. He might mention it, but go into detail? You know how much he hates talking about that. Not that I blame him." The mood darkened for a moment, as they remembered why the Shiva Option had to proceed with little input from its leader. "Anyway," she went on after a moment, "what's so important about that message?"
Sparky raised a hand. "Just a moment. First, Tom, I need to ask you something: how is the X00A Project going?"
Tom jerked his head at a window looking out onto the assembly floor, where several technicians -their core consisting of the DiFalco team's mechanics, carefully augmented by discrete recruitment- worked on the frame of a mobile suit. "We've got the basic frame completed," he said, now bringing up the table's holographic screen. "That was the easy part, even with the artificial muscle-tissue actuators. The hard part is only just beginning. It'll take weeks to get the weapons completed; and we haven't yet gotten hold of the N-jammer canceller plans."
Leanne shot him a sharp look. "What? You mean they've made the breakthrough?"
The mobile suit engineer nodded glumly. "Yeah. I got word from one of my contacts in the R&D section yesterday. The good news is that the only problem in getting hold of the plans is that there's only a couple of copies so far; once they're distributed more through the construction, I should be able to filch a set without much trouble. The bad news..."
Sparky grimaced. "GENESIS. But that's immaterial right now."
"True. Anyway, we've got a little additional help." Tom brought a set of blueprints for an unusual-looking weapon... unusual, at least, for a mobile suit. "Remember how the Junk Guild got the Boss and his parents to Heliopolis in the first place? Well, it seems Lowe Guele got wind of his predicament, and managed to get these plans to us. It's called a 'Gerbera Straight'."
Leanne nodded approvingly. "The legendary beam-deflection sword. I'd only heard about it before; but I thought that eccentric Un No fellow was the only one who could make it?"
He snorted. "Come now, Leanne; have you ever encountered a bit of tech I couldn't duplicate? Oh, sure, it'll take a little while; this is one job I have to do myself. But it is doable."
Sparky smiled. "The Boss will be happy to hear that; he always did prefer melee weapons."
"Yeah. Now, to move on..." The image shifted to a pair of beam rifles, and a graphic showing how they'd be stowed on the completed machine. "We've already got the MA-M19 Talon rifles fabricated; that was simple enough. Same for the MA-M01 Lacertas. We can mount them on the frame once we have the MMI-M15 Xiphias railguns on the hips." Tom tapped commands into his panel. "The RQM51 Bassel beam boomerangs will take rather longer, though; and the Mirage Colloid will have to wait until we have a working fission reactor."
The bigger man nodded unhappily. "I figured." He didn't know much about it -his nominal subordinate was using the full designations for weapons for essentially the same reason: good as he was at his job, Sparky didn't know much about the technical side of things- but there were some things he found fairly obvious. "What about the DRAGOON system?"
"That's a whole different problem," Tom replied. "The EQFU-2X wings can be constructed and installed as is -which is fortunate, given that the thing can't fly as well without 'em, and they're needed for the heavy weapons, remember- but, like the cloaking system, they can't be used without nuclear power, and even once we get that, the Boss is the only one who can test them."
"Figured that, too." Blast it.
"What about the satellite system?" Leanne broke in. "I mean, I already spent a solid two weeks flitting around orbit, deploying those blasted satellites."
Tom shook his head. "Another no-go, Leanne; we can construct it -and we will- but we can't power it. To finish this machine, we need N-jammer canceler technology, and we just don't have it yet."
"Well, you'd better expedite," Sparky rumbled. He tapped the report. "See this? According to the Boss's latest message, his current machine may be a dead issue a lot sooner than we counted on."
Tom picked it up. "Figures," he muttered. "Stress fractures..."
Leanne sighed. "Let me guess: he went Berserker, and pulled something the machine couldn't take."
"That's about the size of it. But cheer up, Leanne: at least this wasn't like the Bloody Valentine; Raptor didn't fall apart on the spot, like that GINN did." He turned back to Sparky. "I'll do what I can, Sparky, but it'll still be a couple of months before it's at full combat capacity."
Sparky pondered that. "How about limited capacity? I understand it wouldn't have full capabilities, but..."
Tom started to say something, then shut his mouth. "That's a possibility," he said at last. "We're already having to go with a new generation of capacitors for the satellite system, so if we used one of those in place of the nuclear reactor... If we did that, Sparky, we could have it at limited combat-capacity in, say... a month?"
The big man considered that. "It's not ideal," he said finally. "But if that's the best we can do, it's the best we can do... Leanne, if we need to deploy at all before we get it to the Boss, you'll be flying it."
The test pilot nodded. "Got it. Just in case, I'll get the simulators programmed for it."
"Good. Now, that brings us to our next bit of business." He looked over at the engineer. "Tom, how are the other X-units going?"
"X10A Freedom is on track," Tom replied. "Our careful technology leaks have paid off; it should be ready within a week or so of X00A's projected completion date." He smiled. "We're prepared to seize it, if and when the necessity arises."
Sparky nodded. "That's good news. What about X09A?"
"That will be finished around the same time, if all goes according to schedule." The gray-haired engineer looked concerned. "That one -they're calling it the Justice, by the way- is being stored separately from Freedom, in a place we don't have such easy access to."
Leanne frowned, similarly troubled. "That's not good news; we can't let Patrick-" they all had the habit of referring to the ZAFT leader by his first name, despite having never met him "-have any nuclear-powered machines. GENESIS will be bad enough; especially since construction of it was well on its way when Falcon bugged out." She steepled her fingers. "Should we bring Shiho in on this?"
Sparky shook his head. "No. She transferred out before Endymion, remember; and I don't want to put her on the spot now. No, we may approach her at some point, but now is not the time." He sighed. "We'll just have to figure something else out. However... we may have another advantage." He tapped the report again. "Apparently, the Boss managed to get hold of some more Eurasian data; I don't know how, unless it was data from Artemis that he's only recently decoded. But it could be useful."
Tom examined the information. "That's interesting; equipped with a more complete version of the light-wave shield we're building into Preybird. Another thing that couldn't be completed with an NJC, but that's hardly a major obstacle. But... that's strange." He looked up. "He wants us to give it a Natural-adapted OS, if we can come up with one."
The three looked at each other, and were reminded once again that sometimes even they didn't understand what their boss was up to.
Banadiya, Land Battleship Lesseps, Officer's Quarters, February 22nd, C.E. 71
Victor Tempest, alias Huckebein the Raven, jerked upright in his bunk, muscles trembling, heart beating rapidly. Not again, the young man thought, and reached hurriedly for the nearby table. Opening a drawer, he swiftly pulled out a bottle, and downed several pills.
It took less than a minute for them to kick in, and then he was in control of his body again. "Oh, no," Tempest whispered to himself. "The episodes... are getting more frequent... more painful..." That was the first time he'd been awakened so precipitously by that particular problem; it told him things he didn't want to know, yet had to know.
At least I'm in control of my mind for now, he thought and got up. If only... I could tell Falcon... what's really going on.
Victor Tempest was well aware that he was losing it. He'd known even from childhood of his own mental instability; and, though he'd tried to hide it, it had gradually gotten worse. Inevitably, the medication he took partly -but only partly- to control his own mind would wear off, and he'd do things he ordinarily would never do.
Like that day, nearly a year before, when he'd tried to kill his friend and commander; or before that, in the battle that led to his transfer from the Gray Demons. And in the heat of battle, when the stress would eat away at him, allowing his deranged mind to spout insane rambling, taunting those he faced on the battlefield. He would retain enough control to avoid flying into a berserk rage, but only just.
Which was, of course, exactly why he continued to fight his former commander, to goad him, trying to get him to do the one thing he seemed intent on avoiding.
"Blast it, Falcon," Tempest whispered. "Why won't you just go ahead and kill me? We'd both be better off... blast it."
Donning his distinctive mask, he reflected that at least one good thing had occurred recently: the corpse of one Heinrich Metzinger had been found, missing its head and cut in two. That pleased the Raven immensely. Thank you, Boss, he thought. The doc deserved what he got, for doing this to me... Why did he have to create me in the first place? He snarled silently. Dependent on pills to avoid organ degeneration, to keep my mind relatively sane... I wish the bastard had left well enough alone and never created me in the first place.
He rubbed his chest, feeling the beating of the artificial heart that lay within. I should have died that day; in that we agree, Falcon. But the doctors revived me, put me back together, and sent me back to the frontlines; why couldn't they see that it should have ended?
His reason for living was a desire for death; the Raven's sole amusement was that Rau Le Creuset had met him in person a number of times, yet never realized the truth about him. But Tempest knew Le Creuset's origins. Oh yes, he knew...
He shook himself; it was time to head to the hangar, to make sure his LaGOWE had been repaired properly. It wouldn't for it to break down prematurely, the next time he fought to die...
Archangel, Hangar
Most people in his position, Ken DiFalco mused, sitting on Raptor's shoulder, would probably be having an existential crisis about now. He, on the other hand, was very relaxed about the whole thing. After all, next to the Bloody Valentine, the Battle of Endymion, and the GENESIS Project, learning that he'd been designed as a "natural soldier" was nothing much at all.
Upon returning to the Archangel, shoulder, head, and side bandaged, he'd immediately sought out his sister and the Captain. In the end, he'd found them both, as well as his brother Mu, in the Captain's office.
"We wondered what was keeping you, Falcon," Murrue began, "and- What happened to you?" She stared at the bandages in something akin to shock.
Ken's face seemed to have the faintest trace of a smile. "Well, first of all, we ran into a Blue Cosmos cell, who had the bad manners to fire rocket launchers and assault rifles at us; in the process of dealing with them, I was shot once in the head, once in the right side, and twice in the left shoulder, for a total of four bullet wounds in thirty seconds. Then it turned out their actual target was our tablemate, who turned out to be Andrew Waltfeld. We ended up spending a couple of hours at his headquarters, getting cleaned up, while he talked philosophy with -or more precisely, at- us, held us at gunpoint, and then let us go without a fight. Oh, and did I mention running into one Heinrich Metzinger along the way?"
The trio of officers stared at him in disbelief; in part at the day's tribulations, and in part because it was the largest number of words they'd ever heard him string together at once.
"What was that?" Mu managed finally. "You got attacked by Blue Cosmos, had lunch with the Desert Tiger, and ran into... Wait a minute. Metzinger... wasn't he...?"
"The one responsible for my birth," Ken confirmed, and turned to Sophia. "Der Schreckick Eins, Sister," he said pleasantly. "The Terrible One. Care to explain?"
Sophia slumped slightly. I always knew this would come out, she thought. I just don't know how he'll react.
"Der Schreckick Eins," she said finally. "As you said, The Terrible One. It was Metzinger's pet project; an attempt to use genetic engineer to create a superlative soldier."
His eye narrowed. "A super-soldier program?"
She shook her head. "Not exactly; the idea of super-soldiers tends to conjure up images of cybernetically-enhanced warriors or something. No, this was subtler than that." She took a deep breath, preparing to launch into a lengthy explanation. "As you know, with our current knowledge of genetic engineering it's possible to identify what genes are most closely connected with what attributes; it's not perfect, but it gives geneticists much greater control over the human genome than ever before. That's one reason that, even before the Torino Protocol was passed, there were strict limits on what could be done with humanity's genetic code. Metzinger, unfortunately, didn't much care for the rules. He set out to create the ideal soldier, someone who would excel at his job without being too conspicuous. Using preserved genetic material -I don't know whose; presumably that of some soldier or other from the Reconstruction War- he combined so-called 'soldier genes' with the genome obtained from the La Flaga line. Genes for things like greater muscle efficiency, physical resilience, a more efficient metabolism, that sort of thing; he even attempted to 'program in' the proverbial killer instinct, and 'strategic thinking'."
"Apparently," Mu remarked, "he succeeded."
"Apparently," Sophia agreed. "He didn't know at the time, of course; but he did know that he'd produced a viable product."
"Me," Ken said flatly.
"Yes. You." She grimaced. "But Metzinger wasn't content with that; and he was thorough enough man to anticipate that, if something were to go wrong, he might end up separated from his 'creation', and not be able to complete the experiment himself. So, according to the notes I found when I located his lab some years ago, he intended to leave 'programs' within your mind; subconscious directives that would at the proper time -your mid-teens, apparently- alter your mind, your way of thinking, into what he considered the proper mold: that of an unfeeling soldier." Sophia looked away. "And, I'm sorry to say, I believed he'd succeeded. Falcon, the way you started acting... it reminded me too much of what Metzinger's notes said. I thought..."
"It was a reasonable assumption," he said, as gently as he ever spoke. "But why didn't you tell me?"
She looked at him again, eyebrow raised. "Probably for the same reason you still won't tell anyone why you left ZAFT."
"Touché," Ken granted.
Murrue tilted her head. "You... don't seem very bothered by this revelation, Falcon. Why not?"
"I don't care what was done to me before I was born," he said bluntly. "Nor what he attempted to do to me afterwards. What matters is what my choices have made me; and I left Metzinger, and his grand design, behind a long time ago."
Mu clapped lightly at that, and Sophia managed a smile. "By the way," she asked suddenly, "where's Metzinger now?"
This time there was no mistaking the slow smile that spread across Ken's face, proving that, despite his carefully-crafted exterior, there was a sense of humor buried in there somewhere. "That depends," he said easily. "Which half of him?"
His sister and Murrue blinked, both at Metzinger's fate and the way the ace described it, but Mu grinned. "I guess he won't be bothering you anymore, huh?"
"Not at all."
The Captain and Sophia looked at each other, and then Murrue cleared her throat. "Ahem. Getting back to the matter of your encounter with the Desert Tiger... exactly what happened there?"
Ken shrugged. "Not much. His partner Aisha got Cagalli cleaned up, while I patched myself up; then we had a discourse on how Evidence 01 was at the root of the war, before Andy pulled a gun on us and went into the philosophy of war. Then, like I said, he just let us go."
Sophia shook her head in disbelief. "That's one weird guy."
"You can say that again. Oh, by the way," he added, "he said to give you his best."
"Me?" She blinked. "I'm flattered... but why?"
"He respects you," Ken told her. "You were a formidable adversary, the last time you ran into him, and he seems to be pleased you're still around."
"Huh." Sophia pondered that. "First time I've ever had an enemy wish me luck."
Now, two days later, Ken was quite relaxed about the whole thing, and on his way to recovering from the bullet wounds. Once again, he'd insisted upon doing the work himself; he wasn't yet ready to reveal his body's secrets. It was more stubborn pride than anything else, of course; he simply didn't like admitting to any weakness, and so he hid it, as always.
Hurt like blazes, though, he thought to himself. Seems like every time I start to forget why I dislike guns, I get shot again. Come on, people, give me a break.
Ken wondered idly if the trip had actually been worth it; but he already knew the answer to that. If the data had reached Sparky, it was worth it. The plan continued, and now his people knew of the added urgency. For now, that was all that mattered.
And if everything goes right, perhaps I'll avert Judgment Day after all.
Banadiya Outskirts, Lesseps, Waltfeld's Office, February 26th, C.E. 71
Several mobile suit transport aircraft were settling down outside the land battleship and its escorts, and Andy Waltfeld sighed.
"It's about time," he commented to DaCosta. "But what's up with those guys at Gibraltar, anyway? Why are they sending us ZuOOTs?" He tossed the message that had come with the reinforcements onto the table in disgust. "Are they all out of BuCUEs or something?"
His protégé shrugged helplessly. "They said they couldn't provide us with any more of them," he said simply, reiterating the message's contents. "They didn't say why."
"Well, I wish somebody would explain it to me." Waltfeld snorted. "ZuOOTs. Yeah, that's just what we need, when we've got G-weapons and the Victorian Kestrel out there. ZuOOTs are nothing but gun turrets pretending to have some semblance of mobility... and not doing a very good job of it."
"Well... maybe they think they're doing us a favor by sending us those guys." DaCosta nodded at the viewport, beyond which the Duel and Buster were being offloaded.
Another snort. "Their pilots' battle experience is limited to space, and we saw how that worked out with the Grimaldi Falcon. I can't help but think they'll just get in the way."
"They are from an elite unit..."
Waltfeld laughed openly. "'Elite unit'? They're from the Le Creuset team, and I could never stand that guy; he's as creepy as Huckebein. Believe me, DaCosta, if I wanted 'elite' pilots, I'd want the surviving Gray Demons; but they're all out of frontline positions, so asking for them as replacements wouldn't do much good." He sighed. "Well, I suppose I'll reserve judgment, at least about this Elsman fellow; they say he was DiFalco's best friend, so he can't be all bad."
DaCosta hesitated. "But, if that's true, wouldn't that make him less likely to open fire when the time came...?"
"It doesn't work that way, DaCosta. Not when the Grimaldi Falcon is involved. The man seems to have subordinated everything, including friendship, to his cause, so if Elsman's alive after coming to blows with the guy, he must have been fighting back." The commander shrugged. "Well, I suppose I should go out and meet them; maybe they'll surprise me."
Desert Dawn Base, War Room
The Archangel's officers had once again gathered with Sahib Ashman to discuss their next move. Now that Al-Jairi had come through with the weapons they needed -including, oddly, an Earth Forces F-7D atmosphere fighter- they could make detailed plans.
"All right," Sahib began. "We're almost ready to move out... finally. Now, we all know the Archangel isn't getting out of Africa without a fight, so what matters now is to make sure we make our stand in a place of our choosing. Never let the enemy dictate the conditions of battle."
"Exactly," Ken concurred. "Which is why we should make our stand at Talbadiya."
The others looked at him, slightly startled by his swift, confident statement. "That didn't take much thought," Mu commented. "Reasons?"
The ace rubbed his eyepatch. "One: after the revolt last year, there are no civilians to get in the way, so we don't need to worry about checking our fire. Two: if memory serves, the Desert Dawn has already emplaced a minefield there, which should give us an extra advantage. And three: I doubt Andy will expect it. He's already fought a battle there, and won, so he likely wouldn't anticipate another resistance group making a stand in the same place."
Natarle frowned. "Well, I guess you'd be in the best position to know..." She looked over at him. "Just how well do you know Waltfeld, anyway?"
"Not that well," Ken admitted. "He's spent the war as a ground force commander, while my combat duties were spaceborne-only. My only prolonged acquaintance with him was during my tour here, last year. But I learned a lot in that time, and I've studied his campaigns exhaustively. Between Sophia and me, I think we can deal."
Sahib grunted. "I hope you're right. So, how's your mobile weapon complement right now? Are your machines ready, should we need to move in a hurry?"
Murrue turned to the ex-ZAFT ace. "Falcon?"
Ken leaned against the wall. "According to Chief Murdoch, both Skygraspers are in tip-top shape; and he's gotten that F-7D as ready as it can be without an assigned pilot to customize it for. As regards the mobile suits, Strike hasn't yet taken any major damage down here, and the Raptor..."
"Raptor is combat-ready," Sophia finished for him. "The stress fractures aren't yet critical, so it'll be fine during the next engagement; assuming, of course, that it doesn't get banged up too badly by enemy fire." She glanced at her brother. "What are the odds Huckebein will be back in action by then?"
He frowned minutely. "That depends partly on when we make our move, partly on how good Lesseps's mechanics are... and partly on how easy LaGOWEs are to maintain."
Natarle looked surprised. "I'd think you'd know; weren't you a test pilot...?"
"That was for the BuCUE," Ken corrected. "The LaGOWE is a newer design, after my time; all I really know about it, besides the fact that it's equipped with beam weapons, is that it was developed from Andy's custom BuCUE. That particular machine is a very tough customer, by the way; I've seen battle footage of it in action, and it's really quite something."
"That's not very reassuring, Falcon," Sophia informed him. "If a customized BuCUE was that bad, I don't know if I even want to face a development of it."
"What we'd prefer to deal with, and what we have to deal with, are almost always two very different things, Sis," he replied. "We'll make do, don't worry; Archangel, as you noted, can blow away land battleships without too much trouble. That depends, of course, on what sort of weaponry we're willing to use. In any case, as in any modern battle, it'll be the mobile suits that form the decisive factor."
Mu nodded. "Yeah, I figured. Which reminds me: did you manage to crack that ELINT between Gibraltar and Banadiya?"
"Yeah," Ken replied; "ELINT" stood for Electronic Intelligence. In plainer terms, communications intercepts. "They still haven't changed all the codes ZAFT-wide; probably they're beginning with the most critical areas, like Jachin Due and Boaz, and gradually spreading the new protocols through the rest of the organization. In any case, they were using an older encryption code and scrambler frequency, so I had little trouble reading it." He reached into a coat pocket, withdrew a scrap of paper, and laid it on the table. "According to this, Lesseps and her escorts received reinforcements earlier today, consisting mostly of ZuOOTs, with no BuCUEs at all."
Sophia smiled. "Hey, that's great; ZuOOTs are sitting ducks."
"Sure it is," he agreed. "Unfortunately, those weren't quite all they got." His face assumed an almost -but not quite- grim expression. "Apparently, the Duel and the Buster, along with their pilots, have been temporarily reassigned to the Waltfeld team."
Mu cursed. "Wonderful. Those guys were a real pain, back up in space." He sighed. "Guess we should have expected it, though; we knew all along that they'd come down to Earth."
"True; but look on the bright side." Ken allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "The Buster is relatively slow even in space; in a gravity well, it needs some kind of subflight unit, like a Guul, to be very maneuverable, let alone fly. And while the assault shroud upgrade may give the Duel added mobility in space, it serves to greatly limit mobility here on Earth."
"It'll still be tough to take down," Sophia pointed out.
"But at least it'll also have a hard time dodging," Sahib countered. "Commander DiFalco is right: this situation could be much worse than it is." He smiled. "And since we already know about them, we can begin planning how to minimize the threat they pose." The guerrilla leader turned to the ace. "You're the expert, Commander; just what advantages do we have?"
Ken closed his eye, thinking. "First of all," he began, "energy weapons don't work as well in the atmosphere. That's not such a problem for us -Archangel's weapons have enough sheer power to compensate, and our mobile weapons have the ability to get closer to their targets- but for Duel and Buster, the energy drop-off over any real range will give them severe problems..."
Outside Lesseps
"Welcome to the Lesseps," Waltfeld called to the two "elite" pilots. "I'm Andrew Waltfeld, the commander around here. We're grateful for your assistance." I think.
Yzak saluted. "Yzak Joule, of the Le Creuset team," he introduced.
Dearka raised his own hand. "Dearka Elsman, also of the Le Creuset team." Curious, the pilot glanced around, noting absently that neither the Lesseps nor her escorts seemed battle-scarred. That's weird...
Waltfeld noticed his expression, and surprised himself by chuckling with a trace of genuine humor. "If you're wondering why my ships are still intact," he said dryly, "after we went toe-to-toe with the infamous Strike pilot and the Grimaldi Falcon, the reason is simple: the ships themselves have yet to come into direct conflict with the enemy G-weapons."
Yzak nodded thoughtfully. "What can you tell us about the machines' performance against your team, in gravity?"
A succession of images went through the commander's mind, of machines firing with pinpoint accuracy, pulling maneuvers their frames shouldn't have been capable of; of a young man with amethyst eyes, who stood before his female companion like an ancient knight... and of another youth whose blade bit deep into the flesh of his enemies, holding his ground even as bullet after bullet tore into his body. A young man who had faced Waltfeld with a sword in his one working hand, willing to sacrifice his life if it meant permitting his comrades -his friends- to escape.
"Well," he said finally, "we did about as well as the Le Creuset team." Waltfeld smiled slightly. "A little better, in our first engagement; at least until the two machines blasted my men to bits."
"How do they perform in atmosphere?" Yzak persisted. "Any weaknesses?"
The commander shrugged. "They don't maneuver as well in the desert sand as my BuCUEs do, if that's what you're wondering. But their flight capability and heavy weaponry more than makes up for any such deficiencies. They've defeated everything we've thrown at them, so far."
Dearka nodded. "Yeah, that doesn't surprise me; Falcon's been known to deflect laser beams, and the Strike pilot, well..."
Waltfeld tilted his head as the pilot trailed off, and glanced at Yzak's face. I see... "You know," he said conversationally, "when one doesn't have a bad scar removed, it's often taken as a sign one's determination." When the Duel's pilot flushed noticeably, he raised an eyebrow. "Or is it... humiliation?"
Why doesn't he just leave it alone? Yzak thought, irritated. It's not his business; he doesn't need to know that all that matters to me right now is making the Strike pilot pay for humiliating me...
Finally, he narrowed his eyes. "Why don't you just tell us where the legged ship is?" he said, changing the subject. "Once we know that we can start figuring out how to take care of it."
The Tiger shrugged. "It's currently at a resistance base about a hundred klicks south of here; they seem to have joined forces with a group of guerrillas calling themselves the 'Desert Dawn', and we think they may have recently acquired additional supplies and firepower." He smiled. "You wanna see the pictures?"
Yzak frowned. "If you know where they are, then why haven't you attacked them already? You must have had plenty of time..."
Waltfeld snorted. "We were waiting for reinforcements from Gibraltar; that's what you guys are supposed to be, right? Besides, I wouldn't dream of depriving you of a chance at them."
The silver-haired pilot felt his temper rising, but, with difficulty, managed to throttle it. He couldn't afford to show too much insubordination, particularly to a new commander; Le Creuset tolerated it, to some extent, but if Waltfeld chose not to, not even being Ezalia Joule's son would count for much.
And that's the way it should be, Yzak admitted grudgingly. Nepotism has no place in a war. He knew, of course, the his parentage had influenced his assignment to the elite Le Creuset team; but he also took pride in the fact that, if he were not truly an excellent pilot, he still wouldn't have gotten in. For in that respect, Rau Le Creuset was very much like Ken DiFalco.
Politics or no, he only accepted the best.
And now it's time to prove it, Yzak thought. "All right," he said finally. "Let's get in out of this sand, and see what we have."
Waltfeld nodded amiably. "They say that you can only truly be at home in the desert if you're born there," he agreed. "Maybe they're right."
Archangel, Bridge, February 28th, C.E. 71
"It's time to move out," Falcon murmured to himself, standing at the fore of the Bridge. "At last."
Murrue nodded. "Yes. I'll admit the waiting's been getting to me, too; but like you've said, war is two percent depression, one percent sheer, howling terror..."
"And ninety-seven percent boredom," he finished. "Yes, I remember. Unfortunately, we're about to enter the one percent fraction."
"Yeah." She raised an eyebrow. "So, are you sure this plan of yours will work?"
Ken snorted. "Murrue, I have been accused of many thing, including arrogance; and with a certain amount of justification, I'll admit. But I don't think I've ever been accused of being stupid, and being absolutely convinced that the operation will succeed would be stupid." He glanced over his shoulder. "Lesson Four: No plan survives contact with the enemy."
Murrue smiled. "You mean some of your plans have actually failed?"
"A few," he admitted. "The plan that led up to Nova, for example." His eye took on a faraway look, as he thought back. "The original target was actually well away from that resource satellite; the objective I had in mind was Ptolemaeus."
She blinked at the sheer audacity of the notion. "You actually intended to destroy the Atlantic Federation's lunar headquarters?"
Ken shrugged. "Lesson Forty-one: The quickest way to slay the beast is to cut off its head. I hoped, with Operation Guillotine to decapitate the leadership of the single greatest threat within the Earth Alliance; but the plan was rendered hopeless by unexpected changes in troop deployments. So, Patrick had me come up with another target for the resources allocated to Operation Guillotine, and Nova seemed the most worthwhile; and besides, the moment appeared to be right for such a strike."
Murrue's eyes narrowed. "Just how high up in ZAFT's leadership were you?" she asked quietly. "I doubt there are more than a small handful of people in the entire world, either on Earth or in space, who are on a first-name basis with Patrick Zala; and I wouldn't expect a seventeen-year-old pilot to be among them, even if you were commander of the Gray Demons."
He sighed. "You want to know? Fine; I guess maybe it's time." He turned completely to face her, ignoring the fact that the rest of the Bridge crew was present. "I was technically in command of the Gray Demons -or what was left of them- at that point. In actual fact, my primary role was as Patrick's right-hand man."
Natarle, in CIC, inhaled sharply. "You were the number-two man in all of ZAFT?"
"Yes, I was." Ken turned away again. "I wish now that I'd never gotten beyond team commander; but, on the other hand, this situation might have arisen even without me... and without my being in a position to know of it, would I have defected... and where would we be if I hadn't?"
Murrue somehow thought that he was referring to far more than Archangel's current predicament... but she couldn't fathom what. Why did you desert? she wanted to ask him. What could possibly have driven you to this course? She knew she wouldn't get answers even if she asked the questions, of course... but it didn't stop her from wondering what held the young man to the ship, why he fought so hard to defend it...
For Ken's part, there were nightmarish images going through his mind. Literally nightmarish; they were the images that filled his mind, dredged up from his subconscious, every time he slept. Images of a column of fire, reached out across space, touching Earth... searing it to a lifeless ball of rock.
That is why I fight, he thought. To prevent that nightmare from every becoming real... and for her, so that her sacrifice is not in vain. She made me promise that, and I nearly broke it in my final days with ZAFT. I may yet break it, he admitted to himself, but only if I fail; and I cannot afford to fail.
And Ken DiFalco refused to break his long-ago promise, to one now lost to him.
Desert Dawn Base
Cagalli was walking toward the Archangel's hatch when Ahmed caught up with her. "Hey, Cagalli!" he called. "Where're you going?"
"To the Archangel's hangar," she replied. "I want to be of some use in this battle; and let's face it, our artillery trucks aren't going to be much good against anything other than helicopters. We saw what happened when we tried to take them up against BuCUEs."
He winced. "Yeah; if that ZAFT guy hadn't shown up, we'd be dead."
"He does have a name," Cagalli pointed out mildly. "And he's not ZAFT anymore, however he might talk; he nearly died for us, in Banadiya."
"I guess..." Ahmed was still a little dubious... but on the other hand, he trusted the mysterious girl's judgment; possibly because he had a crush on her. "So, taking up that fighter Al-Jairi sold us?"
She shook her head. "Not unless I have to. Falcon's machine-" she was still careful to call him by his nickname in public; why he wanted it that way, she was not certain "-has a gunner's seat, and it has better weapons than an F-7D."
He tilted his head. "Are you sure the guy will let you? He doesn't seem to be the kind of guy who puts his life in somebody else's hands..."
Cagalli folded her arms, thinking back. "Unless you have a problem flying with women?"
"No, I don't. I've flown with female pilots before."
She still didn't understand the significance of the remark, but when she put that together with Ken's startled expression back in Banadiya, when he'd seen her in a green dress, it made her wonder. Especially with that photo in his cockpit... who was she, and what was she to that guy? He may have a heart, but he doesn't seem the sentimental type.
"Yeah," she said at last. "I think he will." She glanced away. "By the way, Ahmed... I don't think I'll be staying here much longer."
Ahmed raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I intend to leave within a few days," Cagalli told him. "With the Archangel."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I kinda figured that." He'd been expecting something of the sort, ever since she returned from Banadiya in the company of an obviously-wounded Falcon and his younger friend. "The Grimaldi Falcon, right? That's why?"
To Ahmed's surprise, she didn't immediately snap at him. "Partly," she said slowly. "He is a friend, I think... but it's also that other guy, Kira..."
Cagalli trailed off, thinking on the matter. The two pilots intrigued her, in an indefinable way. One who hid everything about himself, from his true appearance to his heart, and his motives for doing anything; he was a cold, calculating young man, who had subordinated every aspect of his life to his cause, and his mysterious plan. She'd seen him walk out into the fire of a dozen automatic weapons for the sake of a chance at his enemies, though he was hit four times; watched as he cut his own "father" in half... and observed him offer his own life, so that his two companions could escape.
The other... he was completely different. He was so open he almost seemed naive, never bothering to hide his feelings about anything. He fought for a cause, yes; but his was a tangible reality, instead of a nebulous goal. He fought to protect his friends, without care for any grand scheme. Unlike his mentor, the younger pilot would not sacrifice things so easily, even if it meant doing things the hard way. They both fought for what they believed, but Kira Yamato fought with his heart, not a calculating mind, and was, in that sense, more approachable. They both fought out of perceived obligations... but Kira put friendship above duty, whereas Ken DiFalco had professed to have given far higher priority to his goal than friendship.
They each had their flaws... and each was somehow... Cagalli couldn't think of a word for it, but they both interested her. They were like two halves of a whole; as though Falcon were the calculating, planning mind, and Kira the warm heart and soul. If Ken was Archangel's brains, then Kira was certainly its heart; she had seen that from the first. And now... now she decided that she wanted to see how things went from here; how the two would affect and change the things and people that were important to them... and how they changed the world.
"There's just something about those two," Cagalli said, after much thought. "And I want to find out what."
Ahmed nodded. He couldn't claim to be happy she would be leaving, but it wasn't unexpected, either. "Well, good luck."
She chuckled. "Ahmed, first we have to survive this next battle; then we see what happens."
Lesseps, Bridge
"Commander," DaCosta reported, as Waltfeld entered the Bridge, "we have confirmation that the legged ship and the Desert Dawn are moving."
The commander walked to a monitor to see for himself, trailed by Yzak and Dearka. "And so it begins," he murmured. "I'd hoped that they'd wait just a little bit longer... but it can't be helped."
"Where are they headed?" Yzak demanded, as sharply as he dared.
"The Talbadiya factory district," Waltfeld replied, studying the data from an aerial drone. "We smashed another resistance group there last year. I wouldn't have expected them to make their stand in that place," he added thoughtfully. "Probably DiFalco's idea; wheels-within-wheels plans are his specialty."
"Aren't we going to attack them?"
The Tiger hid a smile of amusement at the young pilot's tone; a combination of eagerness, impatience, and irritation. "We are," he told the Duel's pilot. "The Grimaldi Falcon has made his first mistake: he thinks that in an open field battle, some brilliant stratagem will overcome the difference in numbers."
"With two G-weapons on their side," Dearka pointed out carefully, "he may be right, sir. And I know Falcon; he'll have considered the problem of numbers."
"I'm sure," Waltfeld said dryly, "but even he makes mistakes. Maybe he is right; I'll grant that it's a possibility. But there's one thing he doesn't seem to have learned: it's hard to manage your overall battle strategy when you're in the thick of it yourself. Hard to keep an eye on the big picture from the cockpit of a mobile suit."
The blonde pilot frowned, but declined to comment further. He's making a mistake, he thought unhappily. If he's thought of the plan's weaknesses, so has Falcon; and I think I know what he's counting on. The two G-weapons could well mean the difference between victory and defeat, and having two of the Earth Forces's most celebrated mobile armor pilots with them wouldn't hurt, either.
Dearka figured the problem was that both Waltfeld and Falcon were master strategists. It was endemic to the condition that neither could admit the other to be superior; and while they each respected the other's ability, that simple fact could blind them to their own weaknesses.
The reason he feared Falcon's plan would succeed was because of one simple fact: the Grimaldi Falcon knew precisely the capabilities of both sides -even a rough estimate of the LaGOWEs, having fought one in battle- whereas Waltfeld knew only his own forces' power.
Well, he thought with a mental shrug, I guess the only thing I can do is go out there and see if I really know Falcon as well as I think. If I do, maybe I can counter whatever he's up to...
Though only Ken DiFalco himself was aware of it, there was one problem with even Dearka Elsman's analysis of the situation: there was no grand scheme this time.
Knowing that Andrew Waltfeld and his men would expect some kind of brilliant, sneaky stratagem, Ken had instead chosen to do something completely different: a "plan" that relied solely upon brute force. In a move completely out of character -yet completely in character- he had chosen a simple slugging match, with no subtlety whatsoever.
No one who knew him would expect something like that. Ken had taken the resource satellite Nova via the indirect approach; he had, among other things, used his own discarded plan to attack Ptolemaeus Base as a diversion. Though the Earth Forces' rank-and-file were never aware of it, Atlantic Federation Command was sufficiently worried about the possible -to them, probable- attack that they diverted forces from other areas, including the ships they had helping to defend the Eurasian satellite. In fact, they'd done it in a heartbeat; even in the midst of war the Atlantic and Eurasian Federations were allies of convenience only, and cared little for each other.
So the Atlantic Federation had shed no tears over Nova; except inasmuch as the PLANTs gained a new defense fortress, and they had egg on their faces from being outsmarted by ZAFT... even if they had no idea exactly who had done it to them. As far as they were aware, the Grimaldi Falcon's only role in the battle had been as a fiendishly-effective mobile suit pilot.
No, a direct, all-out slugging match was the last thing Andrew Waltfeld expected from Commander Kenneth DiFalco... which was exactly why it worked.
Archangel, Cafeteria
Mu, Kira, and Sophia were all in the cafeteria, as the Archangel approached what would soon be a battlefield, eating a proverbial "last meal" before setting out once again.
The Hawk of Endymion was mildly surprised that his young brother wasn't present, but only mildly; as far as he knew, no one on the Archangel had yet seen the ace eat or sleep. Either he's just very private, he thought, munching on a kebab, or else Metzinger made sure he didn't have to eat or rest. Even money either way, he decided. Never can tell with that guy.
Kira, in contrast to the apparently insatiable appetite of the older pilot, had barely touched his food at all. The Desert Tiger, he thought. Will I have to face you again? Will it come to me to take you down? I don't want to kill you...
Mu glanced at him, and lifted an eyebrow. "You should eat more, you know," he commented. "We've got a big battle coming up, and if you don't eat enough, you won't have any strength." He slid another kebab onto the Coordinator's plate. "Here, have another; tastes great with yogurt sauce."
To his surprise, Kira looked almost stricken. "Those, as it happens, go great with yogurt sauce..."
"What's wrong?" Mu asked gently.
Kira shook himself. "It's just... the Tiger said the same thing, in Banadiya. That it tastes great with yogurt sauce, I mean."
The Hawk inclined his head. "You don't say; that man knows his food, at least." Of course, that wasn't the heart of the matter, and they both knew it. "Listen, Kira," he said quietly, "I understand what you're going through. It's hard to fight against an enemy you know personally; just forget him."
Forget him? Kira thought. Does that mean... I should forget Athrun, too?
Oblivious to the Strike pilot's thoughts, Mu continued, "When you're fighting for your life against an opponent you know personally, it's that much harder to deliver the final blow. Just look at Falcon; he's been fighting the Buster since Heliopolis, but he won't strike the final blow. Although, of course, he claims he will if he has to, and frankly, I'm inclined to believe him." He met Kira's gaze soberly. "You'll be better off if you can emulate him, you know. I know Waltfeld made an impression on you, but he is the enemy; no matter how hard it is for you to face him, you have to do it."
Kira sighed. "I know. But-"
A sudden explosion rocked the ship, interrupting the conversation.
Archangel, Bridge
"What just happened?" Ken demanded. "That wasn't a direct hit, but something sure as blazes just blew up out there."
"Checking now, Commander," Tonomura replied, hastily consulting his console's displays. "Sir, we have two ZAFT land battleships dead ahead, and they're firing into the minefield!"
"Confirmed," Sai said a moment later. "We're not being targeted directly; those are shockwaves from multiple detonations."
"Wonderful," Ken said, to no one in particular. "Just what we need: Andy getting wise to part of the plan."
"But only part," Murrue reminded him. "Falcon, I think you should probably get to your machine; it looks like the battle is going to be starting sooner than we thought."
"Agreed." The ace was already unfastening his trench coat as he headed for the elevator, all the while mentally modifying his plans. "Have Sophia and Mu get to their aircraft," he said over his shoulder to Mir, "and get Kira to the Strike. We're launching ASAP."
"Roger that." The Bridge hatch closed behind the pilot, and Mir activated her intercom. "All hands to Level One Battlestations," she called. "Repeat, all hands to Level One Battlestations. All pilots, to your mobile weapons immediately; battle will commence in..." She consulted a timer display. "...fifteen minutes. Prepare to launch as soon as you're loaded into the catapults." She paused. "And good luck out there; we're counting on you guys."
"We're not entirely helpless ourselves, you know," Tolle pointed out from the helm. "The Archangel has good defenses of her own."
Natarle considered ordering the younger crewmen to cut the chatter, but reminded herself that they were very new recruits, who had never even been through proper military training. "That's correct as far as it goes, Crewman Koenig," she said after a moment, "and I doubt the land battleships will be much of a threat, but Archangel is far less adept at protecting herself against mobile suit attacks. For that, we need our mobile units."
"Of course, Ma'am," Tolle said sheepishly. "I should have remembered." Especially after the Blitz nearly blew up the Bridge, he reminded himself. If it weren't for Kira, we wouldn't be here right now. In that particular instance, it had been Kira alone; the Grimaldi Falcon had been very busy at the time. And now it's up to them again... good luck, guys.
Archangel, Pilots' Locker Room
Ken didn't join the other pilots in donning their flightsuits; as always, he chose to do so in his own quarters, where he could make his own... special arrangements... out of sight of anyone else. The others had no such problems, of course; and, though somewhat puzzled, were unaware of the ace's reasons.
Mu, having pulled on his own distinctive flightsuit, was now arguing over the intercom with the mechanics. "That's right," he said, "Launcher on the first machine, and Sword on the second one." A brief pause, while someone said something back to him. "I'll tell you why," he replied harshly, "because the spare Launcher is down, and I can't hit the broadside of a barn with the Sword's weaponry!"
Sophia hid a smile, noticing that the other pilot shut off the intercom without waiting for a reply. "I think they get the point, Mu," she commented mildly, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Did you actually have to shout?"
Mu snorted. "Hey, Sophia, don't tell me you never had any problems with the mechanics talking back to you." He shook his head. "I know they think they own the machines, and we're just 'borrowing' them, but I sometimes wish they'd realize the pilots really do have a better idea of what they need out there."
She shrugged. "They were never that bad; though I remember one guy who shouted at me for five minutes after I brought my fighter back from a nasty run-in with a BuCUE. I was missing one wing -gotta love lifting-body fuselages; they'll bring you back even with a wing shot off- and managed to wreck one of my guns by firing a longer burst than it was designed to handle. But you know what he was ticked off about? I'd scratched the paint. Never mind that I barely got back alive; he was more irritated that I'd ruined the paint job."
"Well," the Hawk pointed out, "at least Murdoch's not that bad." He turned to Kira, who had thus far been silent. "You know," he said, changing the subject, "I really hate to say it, but I don't think we can rely on the fighting strength of those guerrillas."
Kira nodded. "I know." As the three headed for the hatch, he paused. "Uh, by the way..." he began slowly. "What exactly is a 'Berserker'? Do either of you know?"
Sophia stiffened momentarily, while Mu merely raised an eyebrow. "'Berserker'?" he repeated. "Well, the word originally referred to a warrior who went crazy with rage when in battle."
"A crazed warrior?" Does that mean...?
The Hawk nodded. "Yeah. Berserkers were normally gentle and well-behaved, but when they went into battle, they turned into completely different people." He smiled slightly. "But that, of course, isn't what you're asking, is it? You're confused about your own actions, during some of those battles, and I guess you heard somebody make reference to the Berserker state, right?"
Kira jerked. "How did you...?"
"Falcon explained it to me, the night we landed," Mu explained. "And besides... I'm one myself."
"You are?" Now the young Coordinator was getting really confused. "But, what is it, exactly?"
"It's technically called the SEED factor," Sophia replied, fielding the question. "Stands for 'Superior Evolutionary Element Destined-factor'. In practical terms, it means that, when the individuals possessing the SEED -genetic type has nothing to do with it- reach a certain stress level, they enter almost a trance state, in which their mental processes speed up dramatically, along with their reflexes, and their spatial awareness increases greatly. That's why you've been able to pull off some pretty spectacular stunts from time to time."
Kira nodded slowly, eyes wide. "I guess I understand... Wait a minute. Is Falcon...?"
She nodded. "In a manner of speaking, yes. But it was engineered into him deliberately, by Doctor Metzinger, and his results far exceed those of any other that I'm aware of. So far as I know, he's the only Hyper Berserker in existence, and I think his stress levels have to get a lot higher before it kicks in."
"Actually," Mu corrected, "I think it's more a matter of it being harder to stress him out in the first place; remember, he's got more combat flight time than the rest of us, and his experience makes him very confident. But yeah, when he does get stressed out, watch out. I've seen records of the Bloody Valentine, and believe me, from the time he went Berserker, nobody who crossed his path survived."
"Huh..." That explains our first battle with Waltfeld's forces, Kira thought. No wonder his machine is full of stress fractures.
"All pilots to your machines immediately," Mir's voice said over the PA system, sounding impatient. "Battle will commence within minutes."
"Guess we better get moving," Mu remarked.
"Yeah." Sophia picked up her helmet. "Saddle up; lock and load."
Archangel, Hangar/Catapults
Falcon was just about to seal Raptor's hatch when he heard rapid footsteps on the catwalk leading to it. "Wait!" a voice called.
He looked up from his preparations, and raised an eyebrow. "Cagalli? Just what are you doing here?" He glanced at the watch built into his sleeve. "I'm supposed to launch in about a minute, you know."
"That's why I'm here," Cagalli told him. "You need a gunner, don't you?"
Ken just looked at her for several moments, considering. At last, he said, "Need? No. Appreciate? ...Yes." He jerked his head toward the rear seat. "Get in; and be quick about it. We're on a tight schedule today."
She snorted, climbing in. "And when are you not?"
"Probably never," the pilot conceded, sealing the hatch. Then he keyed his radio. "Bridge, this is Falcon; ready for cat launch."
"Roger that, Falcon," Mir replied. "You'll be moved to the port catapult as soon as Commander La Flaga has launched; Commander DiFalco will be following Kira out."
"Affirmative; standing by." He switched frequencies. "Kira, this is Falcon; you ready?"
"Yeah," Kira replied, already in the starboard catapult. "I'll be launching as soon as I have a Striker pack mounted."
A new voice broke in. "You sure you'll be okay with just the Aile pack?" Murdoch asked.
"Yes," the Coordinator said without hesitation. "These are BuCUEs we're dealing with, and I need as much mobility as possible."
"Roger that."
"Falcon, this is the Bridge. Commander La Flaga has launched, and you are clear for loading into Catapult Two."
"I copy." As his machine began to move, Ken glanced over his shoulder. "This your first catapult launch, Cagalli?"
"Yeah," she replied. "But I've been through mass driver launches before."
"In that case, I wouldn't worry. Compared to a mass driver, this will be gentle." He paused. "Almost."
"Hey, Commander," Murdoch called. "Any special equipment this time?"
Before answering, the ace checked his own copy of the maintenance records. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "Give me the spare Launcher pack's shoulder unit."
"But the spare Launcher is- oh." The mechanic broke off. "It's just the Agni that's down. Okay, Commander, roger that."
Cagalli looked at Ken curiously. "You enjoy showing up the mechanics, don't you?"
"At times," he admitted. He was quite for several seconds, as the equipment was mounted, and finally keyed his radio again. "This is Falcon. We're ready to go."
"Roger that, Falcon," Mir responded. "You're go for launch on your command."
"Affirmative." Ken gripped his controls. "Grimaldi Falcon; Raptor Gundam launching."
Talbadiya Factory District
Two mobile suits and two mobile armors flew out into the combat zone, and were immediately confronted by several Agile attack helicopters.
Raptor and Strike each blasted a couple out of the sky with their Igelstellungs, and then Sophia chuckled to herself. "You guys get going," she radioed. "I'll handle the choppers; nothing but targets with a mediocre weapons loadout."
Falcon nodded. "Roger that, Kestrel."
"So what's the plan?" Mu asked, banking to flash past one of the choppers. "I make it two land battleships, five BuCUEs -plus a couple of things I can't get a good look at- and a bunch of ZuOOTs on the ships' decks." He paused. "And the Buster and Duel, atop the Lesseps."
Ken cursed quietly to himself, perplexing Cagalli, and then radioed back, "Kira and I will take the BuCUEs; we're better suited for it. Mu, while Sophia deals with the helicopters, I suggest you try and take those battleships. Buster and Duel won't be able to shoot very well from they are, and ZuOOTs, as Sophia has repeatedly said, are clay pigeons."
"Roger that. But what about Duel and Buster?"
"I don't care about the Duel," he said flatly. "But leave Buster to me."
"Got it. Good luck out there, Falcon."
"There's no such thing as luck." The ace looked over at Kira. "Amigo, think you can handle the BuCUEs by yourself?"
Kira hesitated for a moment, but nodded at last. "I think so," he said, more confidently than he thought. "You going after the Buster?"
"Affirmative; and Victor's LaGOWE, if he's out here somewhere."
"Okay. Be careful, Falcon."
Ken angled Raptor away from the main battle and drew a beam saber, shaking his head. "Why do people see the need to tell me that?" he muttered.
"Probably because you need a keeper," Cagalli retorted. "I've seen you fly, remember; don't you think playing 'one-man army' is a little reckless?"
"Not if you have the ability to back it up." He fell silent, watching Lesseps grow steadily larger. There you are, Dearka. Will you shoot to kill, this time? If those are your orders... then I expect you to carry them out. He smiled thinly to himself. Besides, I don't wanna get bored up here.
Dearka watched the slate-grey machine approach, and a ball of ice formed in his gut. I know what you're doing, Falcon, he thought. You're coming after me, aren't you? But why? Are actually asking me to try to kill you?
He sighed. He hadn't understood his friend's motivations at all since they first ran into each other again outside Artemis. Who knew, maybe he did have a death wish. On the other hand, everybody else that's tried to kill him in this desert has gotten blown up.
The ZAFT pilot wasn't at all surprised when a voice came over his radio. "That's you, right, Dearka?" it asked. "I don't imagine anybody else would be flying that machine."
"What do you want, Falcon?" Dearka demanded. "You know what I have to do."
"Mm-hm. That's exactly why I sought you out, old friend." Falcon's image raised an eyebrow. "After all, I'm the one who's most likely to be able to knock you ought of this fight."
Dearka could hear another voice in the background. "You know this guy?"
"Of course I do; he's my best friend." Ken glanced over his shoulder at the unseen speaker. "Let me handle the Buster; or, if you have to shoot at him, use disarming attacks only. I don't want him dead."
"You're pretty confident," Cagalli muttered. "You'd better not get us both killed."
"I won't. I know what I'm doing." A slight pause. "I think."
Dearka shook himself. Enough; there's no room for talking anymore. Forgive me, Falcon. He triggered his beam rifle.
Ken saw it coming, batted the streak of light aside, and smiled. The battle had begun.
While Ken dueled with the Buster, Sophia blasted choppers out of the sky, and Mu fired blast after blast from the Agni at the land battleship Petrie, Kira flew cover for the resistance fighters. They were the weakest, and they were also bested by the BuCUEs, so it was his job to help them out.
He didn't expect to have too much trouble this time. He'd fought BuCUEs twice before, and now had a good idea as to their combat capability, and how to counter them. He knew that the Aile package would give him the advantage in mobility, while his beam rifle and sabers would give him an edge in firepower.
Wait a minute, Kira thought, enhancing the image of the first BuCUE. It's been modified... His stomach clenched briefly as he realized that, with the addition of head-mounted double beam sabers, the BuCUEs now had the capability to harm him without simply running him out of energy.
"But I still have the advantage in mobility," he told himself. "So let's do it."
Diving in on the first BuCUE, Kira didn't even notice the night-black LaGOWE that powered across the desert toward Raptor's private battle.
While Ken used Raptor's beam saber and grappler/shield to keep Dearka's shots from hitting them, Cagalli used the beam cannons and shoulder-mounted weaponry to blast anything else she could see.
It would be easier, she thought, if he wasn't moving around so much. With the mobile suit dancing around in the air, she was having a hard time getting a clear shot at anything; but when the opportunity did arise, she didn't hesitate. Which, of course, was why Lesseps and Petrie both had a number of smoking holes in them already.
"This machine's pretty impressive," she commented, zeroing in on a ZuOOT and blasting it to pieces. "Not many machines have this kind of firepower."
"That's true," Ken grunted, batting a green dart into one of Lesseps' gun turrets. "Unfortunately, we're facing one of them right now."
Nor was Dearka their only problem. Yzak, having noticed how ineffective Buster's fire seemed to be, had decided to take a hand in the battle himself; besides, he wasn't having much luck hitting the Archangel, anyway. "Try this, Grimaldi Falcon," he whispered, and triggered his entire ranged armament.
Cagalli didn't have time to shout a warning; nor did she need to. Ken used his beam saber to swat yet another beam, triggered his Igelstellungs to destroy the missile barrage, took the railgun hit on his shield, and boosted sideways to dodge the grenade. "You'll have to do better than that, Joule."
"I think we can manage that, Falcon," another voice said. "Care for a rematch?"
Cagalli saw the newly-repainted LaGOWE on her targeting screen. "Ken, it's him again..."
"Yeah, I see him." Eyes narrow, Ken jetted away from the Lesseps to face this new threat. "Hello, Victor. Come to try and kill me again?"
"Maybe I just have a death wish," Huckebein replied, charging his beam cannons.
"That, I can believe." Wasting no more time on small talk, Raptor dove in, saber outstretched, ready for the clash the pilot knew was coming.
For once, Huckebein did something unexpected: rather than block the blow with his own head-mounted sabers, he jumped backwards, and let fly with a shot from his cannons. "Not so fast, Falcon!"
One arm came up, taking the beam on the shield, while Cagalli triggered Raptor's shoulder- and back-mounted weapons. They mostly missed, but a barrage from the Vulcan gun chipped away at the LaGOWE's armor. "You're getting better," Ken remarked; she wasn't sure if he was talking to her or the ZAFT pilot.
The two machines clashed blades again, and the LaGOWE sprang past, racing away to come around for another pass.
This was not going to be as easy as their last encounter.
One truck full of resistance fighters was attacking the Petrie when the BuCUEs got around to attacking them; the pair of guerrillas firing rockets at the huge land battleship didn't even realize the danger until it was too late.
Those in the truck nearest theirs cried out in anger and fear as a BuCUE simply ran their comrades down, then turned its attention to them. "Look out!" one called frantically to their driver. "Get out of here-!"
I won't let it happen! The Strike, already in motion, dropped to just a few meter above the sand, flying backwards in front of the ZAFT machine. "Take this!" Kira shouted, and fired his beam rifle; the arcing green death caught the BuCUE right in the face, traveling back through it till it went into the cockpit, beyond, and struck the machine's energy battery.
The resulting energy release was quite catastrophic; only the Strike -and its PSA- saved the Desert Dawn vehicle from being immolated. But saved it was, and the guerrillas once again were reminded why it was a good thing they'd welcomed the Archangel with open arms instead of machine guns.
That's one down, Kira thought. Now for the next. He noticed, as he searched for the next target, that Ken was engaged in his own battle, but declined to intervene. Falcon can handle himself; and I have my own job to do. Ah, he thought, narrowing his eyes. There's another one.
Boosting back into the air, Strike went hunting for its next target.
Yzak had stopped shooting at the Raptor the moment Huckebein entered the fray, and was now back to taking potshots at the Archangel. "Maybe one of them will actually buy it this time," he remarked to Dearka. "I'm not even sure if I care which; Huckebein's a creepy bastard."
"He didn't use to be," the Buster's pilot said absently, shooting at -and missing- Sophia's Skygrasper. "But ever since he and Falcon had their falling out on the Grimaldi Front, he's gone nuts."
"So those two do know each other." It wasn't a question; Yzak had figured that out just about the day Nacht Jaeger hooked up with the Vesalius. "I thought so; but how?"
"Long story," Dearka replied. "I'll tell you, sometime when we aren't being shot at." He cursed then, seeing a ZuOOT detonate. "Whoever that mobile armor pilot is, he's good."
"She," the silver-haired pilot corrected grimly. "I recognize those colors; it's the Victorian Kestrel, and she's notorious for blowing up ZuOOTs in desert battlefields." He paused, thinking. "I think her name was... DiFalco. Yeah, that's it, Sophia DiFalco."
Dearka's eyes went wide. "That's a surprise," he said, startled. When Yzak shot him a puzzled look, he explained, "I know the woman, Yzak; she's Falcon's sister, and last I remember, she was a useless, obnoxious science academy student. At least, that's what Falcon told me she was. I know she was obnoxious and useless."
"Well," his friend grunted, firing another useless shot, "either Commander DiFalco lied to you, or she lied to him. Either way, it doesn't matter much to us, does it?"
"No," Buster's pilot conceded, "I guess it doesn't."
"Another day, another swordfight," Ken muttered to himself. "You know, I'm getting really tired of facing Victor blade-to-blade."
"Then why don't you try something else, liking shooting at him?" Cagalli suggested, a touch snappishly. "Maybe then you'd actually manage to kill him."
"Actually," he replied tightly, parrying another leaping attack from the LaGOWE, "I already tried that a couple times; it didn't work too well. I guess it'll have to end as it began, my blade against his."
"Ridiculous," she snorted, using a gun launcher attack to blast another chunk off Huckebein's armor. "At least you don't have to get right in his face with a beam rifle."
"Don't you believe in chivalry?"
"No," she said flatly.
"That's good; neither do I." With that unexpected quip, Ken went back to trying to slice his former pupil to sushi. It was not, perhaps, the easiest task in the world, but he did have the advantage of being rather more mobile; even if Tempest was being surprisingly effective with his head-mounted sabers.
It's only a matter of time, Victor, the ace thought to himself, dodging a pair of narrow green columns of coherent light. I could probably take you right now... but I'm not that reckless. I'll make sure you really don't have any other tricks up your sleeve before I pulverize you.
Then Huckebein decided to prove that he did have another trick up his sleeve... by fooling the Grimaldi Falcon himself.
No warrior was perfect. Even the best made mistakes; even the masters sometimes fell prey to feints. That was exactly what happened to Ken DiFalco this day, when his former friend's LaGOWE leapt at him in what seemed to be another fairly standard leaping slash.
But it wasn't.
To make the feint all the more believable, Tempest actually did twist his machine's head for another slash; but there was no real power to the attack, and he allowed Raptor's parry to divert him off-course... and that was when he altered the paradigm by swiveling his beam cannons around at exactly the right moment.
Cagalli cried out when the green blast struck the machine. This is, we're dead...she thought... and realized a moment later that she should have been dead before the thought entered her head.
When she opened her eyes, Ken was wrenching the controls as hard he could, pressing the vernier control to the cockpit floor, and cursing up a storm while staring at the now static-filled forward viewscreens. "That bastard!" he hissed.
"What just happened?" Cagalli demanded. "Why are the targeting systems down?"
"Because that bastard just blew our freakin' head off, that's why!" he snarled. "That's why we can't see a freakin' thing out the front!"
She swallowed. "Then what do we do now?"
"We try a calculated risk," Ken replied, regaining some of his cool. "Or more precisely, as last resort. If this fails, we're out of power... and dead."
Raptor's targeting systems had been lost when Huckebein destroyed its head. That rendered the beam rifle, cannons, and rocket anchor useless; and he couldn't see to use the sabers without forward cameras.
But there was one weapon that relied entirely upon his own powers of spatial awareness, and Ken reached for the controls for the Death Blossoms.
Archangel, Bridge
The fight might have gone smoothly for the ship's mobile weapons so far -except for the incident with Raptor, which was still in progress- but for the Archangel, things hadn't been so simple.
Oh, they had been at first, with just the two ships to deal with; but now a new factor entered the equation, quite unexpectedly.
"Missiles incoming from six o'clock!" Sai called. "There's another ship out there!"
"Set Igelstellungs to point-defense mode," Natarle snapped. "Identify that ship for me, ASAP!"
Sophia's face appeared on a monitor. "It's the Henry Carter she said tightly. "Same class as the Petrie; I remember her from Suez."
"Can you help?" Murrue asked.
"Affirmative; all helicopters are destroyed, so I think I can spare a little time to cover you." Sketching a brief salute, Sophia's image vanished.
"Target the Valiants on that land battleship," Natarle ordered. "Take that ship down."
"Yes, Ma'am!" Pal immediately replied. "Changing targeting priority."
"What's the status of our mobile suits?" Murrue queried of Mir. "Are they still in the fight?"
"Affirmative," the young woman replied, checking her displays. "I'm not sure of their exact status -the situation is too chaotic- but Kira is still going after the BuCUEs... and Falcon seems to be engaged in combat with a LaGOWE." She stiffened. "Ma'am, according to telemetry, his targeting systems and forward cameras are down."
The Captain cursed. "Roger." I'm sorry, Falcon; but we can't help right now. Good luck out there... and don't die on us.
Talbadiya Factory District
For an instant, it was a frozen tableau. Victor Tempest's LaGOWE crouched for another leap, beam cannons aimed this time at a more critical area; while Raptor stood headless, looking almost lost.
"The headless horseman, eh, Falcon?" Huckebein murmured. "Well, time to make you bodiless, too." He began to spring forward.
Falcon's keen mind kept track of his enemy's path despite being unable to see him, and he deployed the Raptor's iconic weapons in a power-intensive, spiraling arc. Right... about... now... He pulled the triggers, spitting rapid-fire darts of energy at the LaGOWE.
Tempest saw it coming. "What the-?" He tried to dodge, but it was far, far too late. Three of his legs were blown away, along with his beam cannons, and his machine collapsed into the sand.
"You should know better by now, Victor," Ken said coldly. "The apprentice cannot hope to defeat the master; you know that."
"Kill me, Falcon!" Huckebein shouted. "Just kill me, and be done with it!"
Raptor turned away, guided by what optical sensors remained to it. "I have no time to finish you, Victor," the ace said softly. "Nor," he added, as his machine reverted to standard gunmetal gray, "do I have the weapon power. I'll see you another day, Victor."
"Falcon!" Tempest clenched his fists, enraged as he watched his former comrade fly away once again. "Finish the job, you coward!"
"Wow," Cagalli commented to the pilot, ignoring the shout from behind them. "That was... pretty impressive."
"It was also something I only did because I didn't have much choice," Ken said quietly, homing in on the Archangel. "We only had a few moments of power left, and without targeting data, that was pretty much all we had left." He tapped his radio controls, setting a frequency. "But now, we're out of the fight."
She nodded glumly. "Oh, man. Well, I guess it could have been worse."
"Yeah, it could have. If you'd been flying a Skygrasper or something out there, you'd probably be dead or at least downed; a battle like this isn't the place for an inexperienced pilot." Ken keyed the radio. "Archangel, this is Falcon. We've taken some bad hits, so I'm RTB."
"Negative on that, Falcon," Mir replied, voice taut. "I'm sorry, but we can't open launch bays at this time; we're caught on some kind of debris, and can't move." She swallowed audibly. "And we're being shot at by another land battleship; your sister ID'd it as the Henry Carter, if that means anything to you."
"Yeah, it does." He cursed softly. "All right, I'll try to hang back; I'd help out, but we've barely got enough power to move, let alone fight." He paused. "What about Kira? How's he doing?"
"He's taken out at least one of the BuCUEs; I think he's right near you now, going after another-"
Another voice broke in. "Falcon, look out!"
Ken's eye snapped to the starboard viewscreen. The Strike was flying toward at high speed... and coming even faster was the BuCUE he was chasing. It had seen the vulnerable Raptor, and decided to take advantage of its lack of Phase-shift.
There was no way for Kira to take it out before it could put a railgun shot through Raptor's cockpit; and with no power, Ken couldn't exactly pull the same stunt with his Death Blossoms again. But he still had one weapon available, one that he shared with the Strike.
Raptor's hands descended to its hip armor, even as the two compartments there popped open. Huge metal fingers grasped the hidden Armor Schneider knives, and raised them swiftly to attack position. Ken was operating entirely by instinct when he threw the two blades... but his instinct proved adequate.
One knife missed completely; the other did not, piercing the BuCUE's cockpit. There was no explosion, but the machine nonetheless slumped. After all, a pilotless machine was capable of very little on its own.
Kira, seeing that threat neutralized, spun around to face a second BuCUE that had come calling. I don't think so, he thought, eyes narrow. I won't let you! A blade of frozen fire flashed, and another machine split apart, exploding harmlessly -except to the pilot, at least- a hundred meters from its intended target.
"You okay, Falcon?" he asked, concerned; now that he had a chance to look, he noticed that not only was Raptor missing its head, but there were also gouges in the armor, from its duel with a LaGOWE.
"We're okay," Ken replied. "Thanks for the backup."
Cagalli nodded gratefully. "Yeah, Kira, we're fine. Thanks."
Kira blinked. "Cagalli? What are you doing there?"
"What does it matter?" she answered, sounding a little sharp. "I do know how to aim a gun, you know; and besides, I thought I'd be more useful here than down on the ground."
"If you say so." He wasn't inclined to argue; and besides, there wasn't time.
Ken attempted to check the tactical situation, but discovered he couldn't; Raptor had taken more damage than he'd realized and the detection systems seemed to be down. "So what's the situation, Kira?" he asked, abandoning the attempt. "What about the other two BuCUEs?"
Kira glanced to where the two enemy machines were. "I don't think they'll be a problem much longer," he said after a moment. "I think your sister and Commander La Flaga have them under control."
"Do they, now?" Orienting his remaining cameras toward the small battle, Ken smiled slightly. The two machines were beset by a pair of Skygraspers, and the dizzying patterns they were flying seemed to have disoriented the BuCUE pilots.
Before his eyes, his two siblings -one biological, one adopted- appeared to tire of the game, and the pair moved with unspoken coordination. Sophia's distinctive blue-and-gold machine flew just meters above the sand, bobbing and weaving to further confuse her target's pilot, and turned away from her seemingly suicidal course at the last possible moment. At the same time, she fired her beam turret, sending an emerald dart into the machine's cockpit.
The other BuCUE was momentarily distracted by his partner's abrupt departure from the mortal plane, and thus managed to miss Mu's Skygrasper diving in on him. "Take this!" A bolt of red blazed out from under his port wing, a beam with the heat of the sun, and scorched its way through the BuCUE from tail to chin. Another brilliant explosion lit the sky, and the ZAFT mobile suit force was no more.
Almost.
A blast of coherent light fused sand into a lump of glass not two meters from the Raptor, and Ken instinctively leapt away; needlessly, as it turned out.
For the pilot of the forgotten second LaGOWE had no interest in the Grimaldi Falcon at all. "Hey there, hotshot," Andy Waltfeld murmured. "Ready for a rematch?"
Kira tensed. Uh oh. "Falcon," he radioed, "you'd better get out of here. You can't do any more good in your condition."
Ken nodded reluctantly. "I know. Be careful, amigo." His machine leapt away from the ensuing battle retreating as fast as it could.
"Are you going to help him?" Cagalli demanded.
"With what? We're out of weapon power, and I used both combat knives on that BuCUE." The ace shook his head. "I'm sorry, but Kira's right. We can't help him now." He keyed his radio again. "Archangel, Falcon here; what's your status?"
"We're about to break free, I think," Mir answered. "Just a-"
Light erupted from the Lesseps' deck, spearing across the sky toward Archangel.
Talbadiya Factory District/Archangel, Bridge
Dearka, noticing that Falcon was away from the Archangel, saw his chance at last. "I'm gonna finish this now!" she shouted, and fired his hyper-impulse rifle at the so-called "legged ship".
He missed completely.
Neumann felt a surge of elation as the beam struck the obstruction that had held Archangel in place. "We're free!" he called, bringing the ship's bow into the sky once more.
Murrue smiled. "Good! Now let's get them." For a moment, she considered ordering an attack on the Lesseps, but discarded the notion; they might blow up the Buster in the process, and she didn't want to explain to Falcon why they'd just killed his best friend.
Even if he was the enemy.
"Bring us around," she ordered finally. "Target both Gottfrieds on the Henry Carter; take her down."
"Yes, Ma'am!" Natarle acknowledged, as pleased as any of them to be finally moving again. "Mr. Pal, fire as ordered."
"Aye, aye," the fire-control operator answered.
As soon as Tolle and Neumann had brought the ship around, Pal smiled slightly -he wasn't immune to wanting to get some of their own back- and fired the Gottfrieds directly at the Henry Carter.
The resulting explosion was quite cataclysmic, and Mir turned back to her displays with renewed confidence. "Okay, Falcon," she called, "it's clear. We're opening the starboard flight deck now. Ready when you are."
"Gracias." Raptor took to the sky once again, heading back to base... while Ken's protégé faced his own foe, alone.
Talbadiya Factory District
"You sure you want to do this?" Aisha asked from the LaGOWE's gunner's seat (unlike Victor Tempest, Waltfeld preferred to operate with a full crew). "I know this will be hard for you..."
The Tiger didn't take his eyes from his quarry; a quarry he knew could not have much power remaining. "What do you mean?"
"Don't give me that, Andy," she chided. "I know you're fond of the kid."
"Maybe I am... but he's still the enemy." Waltfeld smiled. "Besides, it's been too long since I had a decent challenge."
Kira, for his part, wasn't looking forward to the confrontation at all. I don't want to fight you, Waltfeld... But, just like Ken, he knew his duty. More than that, he knew what would happen to his friends if he failed. I have no choice... not at all.
"All right," Waltfeld murmured, gazing intently at his displays. "Let's go!"
The LaGOWE rushed forward on its treads, spitting green fire at the Strike as it went. This time, the Desert Tiger wasn't playing. It was to be a battle to the death.
The pressure began to build in Kira's mind. Can I do this? Falcon wouldn't have any trouble... No. He said that I can handle myself... so it's time to prove it.
Strike jumped sideways, letting the ZAFT machine go past like a matador dodging a bull, and lifted his own rifle. The fast-moving LaGOWE would be a difficult target, but he had a chance. It won't be easy... but it never is, is it? He pulled the trigger, sending his own deadly fire back at his foe.
"You won't get me that easy, kid," Waltfeld called, returning fire. "You're a hot hand, even in the desert, but are you good enough?"
Kira was forced to cease fire, hiding behind his shield as shot after shot splattered against it. "We don't have to do this, Waltfeld!"
"Oh, yes, we do," the Tiger countered. "And you know it, kid." His machine came around in a wide turn, and made another leap at the Strike.
This time he was on the mark, catching the machine's shield, and Kira cried out as Strike began to fall backwards. Startled or not, though, he kept his wits enough to fire another shot from his beam rifle.
"He's good!" Aisha called, struggling to keep her guns on target as the now three-legged LaGOWE made a hard but -relatively- safe landing. "He's gonna get us if we're not careful!"
"I know." Waltfeld's eyes narrowed. "But we can still take him; this fight's barely started," he added, as Aisha squeezed the trigger again.
Above the battle, watching tensely, two Skygraspers circled. "I don't like the looks of this," Sophia muttered. "I'm going in."
"Negative," Mu said instantly. "You don't want to risk that with your current weapons loadout. Besides, Kira can handle this himself."
"You sure?" she said dubiously. "And just why are you so determined to just let this play out?"
"This is something they have to settle between themselves," he said easily. "I'd do the same, if I were facing Rau Le Creuset. Well," he amended, "I might accept Falcon's help; he's got a prior claim against the guy. But for right now, let Kira handle this himself."
"If you say so..."
Down below, another beam connected with Kira's rifle, blowing it apart. "Why do we have to keep this up?" he demanded, sheltering behind his shield. "It doesn't have to be this way!"
"Like I said," Waltfeld retorted, coming around yet again, "there are no clear rules for ending a war like this." He leapt, twisting to use his sabers against his opponent. "So how do you determine the winners and the losers?"
Kira drew his own saber at the same moment, and when their paths merged and separated, both took damage. One of Strike's wings went flying, while the LaGOWE's beam cannons sheared off and exploded; thus rendering Aisha a mere passenger.
"At what point do we put an end to it?" Deftly maneuvering the three-legged machine, Waltfeld spun around. "When every single one of your enemies has been eliminated?"
Kira looked down at his displays for an instant, and tensed when he saw how close to being exhausted his energy reserves were. I can't keep this up; I have to end it, now... "Don't do it, Waltfeld!" he warned, tossing away his shield and brandishing his other energy blade.
"I have no intention of surrendering," Waltfeld informed him, readying himself for another leap. "It's not in my character!"
"Then you're one of those who would rather perish," the Strike pilot retorted. This time, he deflected the LaGOWE's leap with a deft parry against its beam sabers.
"Maybe I am... but I'm not giving up... until one of us is destroyed!" Waltfeld gathered the LaGOWE's legs and sprang one final time... just as the Strike ran out of power at last.
And behind Kira's eyes, an amethyst seed burst.
For him, the world seemed to slow down. While his opponent was making his almost leisurely lunge, his fingers danced across the controls. He threw aside both sabers, ejected the Striker pack, and drew both his Armor Schneiders.
"It ends now, hotshot!" Waltfeld shouted. His machine came within meters of the Strike...
Kira jumped clear over the charging LaGOWE, turned over and around in the air, drove both knives into the LaGOWE's back, and dropped to his knees in the sand.
Within the battered machine, now falling to the earth, Aisha unstrapped. "Andy!" she cried, lunging for the Desert Tiger. He, too, released his straps, and caught her in his arms.
The LaGOWE erupted in a fury of light and energy, blasting the Strike backwards in the midst of the small cataclysm.
Then it was over, and Kira sat in his chair, breathing heavily. "But... but..." he gasped. "No one had to die here today!"
Author's note: So ends Archangel's sojourn through the desert. Now, leaving the sandy battlefields behind, they will begin their trek across the sea… where new and old enemies alike will be waiting for them…
Okay. The desert arc is finished, so now maybe my chapter titles will get a little more imaginative. And maybe the next chapter won't be quite so long; I'm surprised my fingers didn't fall off in the midst of it.
Ominae, I don't see any reason for Ahmed to join the Three Ships Alliance (technically, Clyne Faction is applicable only to the Eternal, if memory serves); after all, the only characters from the desert sequence who do are Cagalli and Kisaka, and both of them have an overriding allegiance to Orb. The resistance fighters are pretty much concerned only with their own land.
Easy-Company-506-101, you weren't the only one having problems with the site; it was driving me insane for a couple of days. At least it seems to have finally cleared up.
Cagalli and Athrun will still meet on the deserted island, it'll just be a little different. As for how that might occur, when she's in the Raptor, let me put it to you this way: Falcon hates planets; how well do you think he'd navigate if a freak hit were to, say, knock out his navigation systems? At night it would be fine; no doubt he's adept at stellar navigation. But during the day? He'd get lost in no time.
Infinite Freedom, as you can see, Sophia wasn't in for anything after all; she's learning. What can Falcon complain about when he's keeping secrets for what he considers "perfectly good reasons".
Yes, Shiho was a Gray Demon, briefly; she was with the unit for a handful of missions, before being transferred out just in time to avoid Endymion. That will be expounded upon later.
As for Spit Break… no comment.
The identity of the woman Ken keeps thinking of won't be revealed for some time yet. As always, I've got the perfect moment planned for it, and I have no intention of deviating from my master plan.
Nice touch, signing off with the Russian word for comrade, by the way; you even got the spelling almost right. It's "tovarisch", not "toverisch".
Centurious, that is indeed what happens when you pull a gun on a ZAFT ace; particularly one who knows how to use a sword to lethal effect. Metzinger was never meant to survive beyond this point; you see, the final explanations haven't occurred yet, and it would be a pity to spoil it so early.
I'll have to try out those stories you mentioned, when I have the time; thanks for pointing them out.
NukeDawg, again, thanks for the information. I imagine I'll be reviewing your story in an hour or so, depending on when I get this finished.
I have to disagree with you on one point, though. Mu's experience -or lack thereof- with mobile suits has nothing to do with why he couldn't fly the Strike. If you'll remember Phase 3, he says of the -workable- OS that "A regular human being couldn't possibly grasp it anymore." I know that he isn't exactly a "regular" human being, but he does seem to be including himself with that statement. As for Rau, though… it has always been my opinion that someone as obsessed with having a proper successor as Al Da Flaga would arrange to have his clone made into a Coordinator. I suppose I could be wrong, but that always seemed the most likely explanation to me.
ZGMF X-19A Infinite Justice, I'm glad you still approve; I hope this chapter did not disappoint.
Ninofchaos, thanks; I took extra care with the Falcon/Desert Tiger interaction, since the two would obviously know each other… and, of course, there's the added complication that Falcon is, as far as ZAFT is concerned, a traitor.
Warp Ligia Obscura, you have just asked about what is quite possibly the most complicated part of Ken DiFalco's tale. Let me try to explain it (I say "try" because it really is very complicated; I may have outsmarted myself with this one).
Okay. First of all, there are three variations of the Shiva Option. The first is Falcon's original master plan to defeat the Earth Forces. GENESIS was a part of that, but a very small one; exactly what the rest of the plan was, I haven't thought of, and it doesn't really matter. That plan is no longer relevant.
The second version is Patrick Zala's iteration, which centers on GENESIS; that's why Falcon left the PLANTs in the first place.
The third Shiva Option is Falcon's plan to counter Zala's plan, which he himself currently has but a small role in; the real work is done by his minions still in the PLANTs. You'll have seen that at the beginning of this chapter.
With me so far? (I hope so, because I'm not sure I am.)
Now, I'm well aware that the Preybird, being a lone mobile suit, couldn't stop GENESIS all by itself. But Falcon would know that, too; so Preybird is only part of his plan. If you'll notice, there were references to his plan even before he designed the machine.
Thanks for the extra information about Shiho; I've managed to uncover a lot of it since then, from other sources, but it was helpful nonetheless.
I fixed the typo you mentioned, as you may have noticed; and no, I didn't mean to repeat that section of text. See, whenever I upload one of these chapters, everything is just how I left it… at first. But after I add proper section dividers and save the changes via Quick Edit, the system decides to do funny things with my italics. So I have to go in and fix that, so it takes me an extra save command before it's actually ready for posting. Naturally, I miss a few sometimes, and that's exactly what happened with that section of text. Thanks for pointing it out. I try to fix those whenever they come to my attention.
Yeah, Metzinger wasn't too bright; but what do you expect? He was a geneticist, not a soldier. It probably never occurred to the absent-minded idiot that he might get sliced in half or have his head blown off or something. Good riddance in any case.
There's certainly more to know about the "mystery woman". Her tale is an important part of Falcon's but will not be fully explained for some time to come…
The "Lessons" actually do serve a purpose: they add depth to the character. Kevin Walker called people "tovarisch"; Ken DiFalco quotes Sun Tzu-like sayings. Every major character should have their own idiosyncrasies, and that's his.
I've finally gotten some information about Rondo Mina Sahaku, so don't worry about that; I think I've got what I need for A Call to Arms.
The canon back story behind the Hyperions doesn't really matter; the one appearing in this story will come from a different source anyway, as you may have noticed.
This whole "Newtype" thing is starting to drive me insane; looks like I'll have to do some research. You'd think something as important as that would be mentioned in the actual series…
Depressed suicidal writer, I'm glad you liked both this and Brothers in Arms; always reassuring to know that someone actually approves of it, given how long it takes me to write the things. One of these days it'll give me writer's cramp from typing; or maybe carpal tunnel.
Anyway, I'll be watching for your story. I'm always on the lookout for new stories in this section.
Rau Le Creuset 88, thanks for the ideas. I'm not sure how the anti-nuclear weapons barrier would work -the most logical explanation, given this universe, would be an N-jammer, but with N-jammer cancellers, that's something of a moot point. I'll have to think about it, though.
I've already got a different sort of shield in mind for Preybird; one which will be useful for a later event in the story. Pretty much the same thing with the cannons; as you'll note from the start of this chapter, I already have something in mind for that particular role.
The PX system, on the other hand… I'll consider using it if you'll just tell me what it is. I'm not familiar with Gundam the Last Outpost, and my usual source Gundam information doesn't seem to have it, either. So, with some knowledge of what it is, I'll certainly consider it.
You'll be seeing the unit fairly soon, I think; by my calculations, Chapter 20. I've got big plans for its inaugural appearance…
Shinji Ikari, I know it would be better to read the manga first to determine such things, but I must say two things: first of all, to borrow a phrase, I live four hundred miles north of everywhere. The Astray manga is not the kind of thing you'll find in a bookstore around here. Second -since I know you'll point out the wonders of internet shopping- I should mention that I've heard the manga gets rather… risqué in places, and I find that somewhat distasteful.
Now, with Lowe Guele it won't be much of an issue anyway; his appearance will be quite brief. And Shiho… I've read some stories involving her, with pretty consistent portrayals of her personality, so I've got at least some idea of that. Maybe that isn't good enough, but it's really the best I can do.
My apologies for any accidental spoilers; I thought I phrased things obliquely enough, but perhaps not. I'll be more careful in future (I know, I know, I've said that before… but I mean it this time!). I've got no idea if you misread what I said, though, since I don't know how you interpreted it. I will say, though, that when I said I was keeping an eye out for character deaths, I wasn't speaking of anyone in particular. I was just saying I was keeping an eye on it. And I should point out that I haven't said who dies and in what episode. I checked.
I don't know what you mean about ZAFT individuality; are you agreeing or disagreeing about it? If the latter, I should point out the sheer number of customized mobile suits they seem to have. And no, I haven't read the novel.
Glad you liked the scene with Metzinger; I was actually expecting to have to argue with you over it. Anyway, as mentioned earlier in the notes, Metzinger knows far more about science than combat; it's entirely possible he'd be stupid enough to think he could pull of such a monumentally idiotic stunt like that.
Finally, I'm afraid that if Destiny doesn't appear on Cartoon Network, the episode summaries will be my only recourse. See, I don't think I'll be getting the DVDs at all; I won't spend on money on something I'm not sure I'll even like that much. So if I don't see the episodes on Cartoon Network, I probably won't be seeing them at all.
In any case, I doubt that will be an issue; just about every series since Wing has turned up there, so it's likely a moot point anyway.
Argh; another ninety minutes -seems to be the average- down the drain. Time to see how long it takes to upload. -Solid Shark