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

Archangel, Bridge, March 3rd, C.E. 71
It was peaceful, where the desert ended at the Red Sea. One would never know that just days earlier, a fierce battle had been fought not far away.

But those aboard the hovering ship that now sailed through the skies towards the water knew. The crew of the Mobile Assault Ship Archangel knew very well what had happened, for they had been in the thick of it. That day, they had proved once more that the so-called "legged ship" was a force to be reckoned with; a force not to be taken lightly by anyone, even the legendary "Desert Tiger".

On the vessel's Bridge, the crew were more relaxed than they had been in weeks; and this time, they were reasonably confident their peace wouldn't be instantly shattered by a ZAFT attack in the middle of the night.

"Here we are, Captain," Ensign Arnold Neumann reported, smoothly guiding the ship down into the waters of the Red Sea. "Now entering the Red Sea."

Captain Murrue Ramius smiled. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, Ensign," she said feelingly. "It took us a lot longer to get here than I expected."

"But now we are here, Murrue," Lieutenant Commander Sophia DiFalco remarked. "At long last. Hey, Falcon," she called, "what do you think are the odds we run into any ZAFT forces out here?"

The figure in the gray trench coat, leaning against one of the starboard bow bulkheads, glanced up. "I think we should be fairly safe for now," Commander Kenneth "Grimaldi Falcon" DiFalco replied. "ZAFT's submarine forces have little interest in this area, or any others along our projected course, with the possible exception of the waters close to Australia. Generally, they're more worried about the waters near their own bases, and the occasional sortie to show the Earth Alliance's navy who's boss."

Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Natarle Badgiruel nodded thoughtfully. "That's good to hear; though I would suggest that caution is still in order."

"Of course," he agreed, unruffled. "But I think we can afford to at least take some time to relax a little. Besides, it's a good idea from a tactical perspective, as well: a person can only remain at high alert for so long before either gradually losing their edge or, perhaps more likely, burning out completely."

"We wouldn't want that to happen," Murrue murmured, and paused as a thought struck her. "Mr. Buskirk, please inform the crew that, for a short time, I will be allowing off-duty crew members to go out on deck for a little fresh air; it's time to bleed off a little stress."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Kuzzey Buskirk replied happily, and relayed the announcement with barely-suppressed excitement.

Meanwhile, Natarle decided it was time to check on their defensive preparations. When they'd made their dealings with the gunrunner Al-Jairi, they'd gotten some highly useful equipment, some which might make the difference between life and death out here. "Bridge to Chief Murdoch," she called over the intercom. "How's the sonar installation process going?"

"On schedule so far," Chief Petty Officer Kojiro Murdoch replied, from deeper within the ship. "The kid's taking care of it now; it shouldn't be too much longer."

"Understood; but please remember it's our best chance of detecting enemy activity out here before it strikes." Uncharacteristically, the lieutenant actually smiled slightly. "And Chief," she added, sounding oddly teasing, "I'd be careful about calling a superior officer 'kid', if I were you; that kind of mistake could wind up in your official record."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Murdoch muttered, sounding pained; he tended to forget that the "kid" was actually an officer, and thus higher-ranking than he was. "She said to hurry," he said to Kira, apparently unaware that the link to the Bridge was still open.

Kira Yamato's response was also audible. "Well, it's not that easy," he said defensively. "This sonar unit is made by ZAFT; there are a few compatibility problems."

Ken stepped to an intercom mic. "If you have any problems, Kira, let me know; I know a fair bit about engineering."

"Thanks; but I think I can manage."

"You know," Sophia murmured, "I keep forgetting that you used to be an engineer."

He shrugged. "Hard to remember, I guess; I've spent the last three years as a mobile suit pilot. But as a matter of fact, engineering was my first choice for a career."

His sister nodded sagely. "Yeah, I know what you mean; I started out in engineering, wound up in mobile armor squadrons, then went back to engineering for the G-weapon project." She smiled. "And now here I am, flying a mobile armor again. Crazy world, ain't it?"

"You have no idea."

Murrue glanced at the pair. "Either of you ever consider taking a vacation?"

She had the eerie feeling that another eye was staring at her through the eyepatch when Ken responded. "I don't have time for a vacation," he said quietly. "My work is too important."

The Captain sighed. "You now, Falcon, you said it yourself: there's only so long you can go without burning out. Just how long have you been on alert?"

He closed his eye. "About seven months, give or take."

Sophia snorted. "Sounds to me, Brother, like Murrue has a point. Maybe you should at least take a turn about deck today, get some fresh air for a change." She smiled as a thought struck her. "Fresh air that doesn't have more sand in it than oxygen, I should say."

"And besides," Murrue pointed out, "you've been fighting a war for even longer than that, without so much as shore leave since your goodwill tour in Africa."

Ken sighed (she'd noticed he seemed more willing to express emotions these days), and looked up at the deckhead. "You may have a point," he admitted, and glanced at his watch. "As I seem to be off duty, I'll see you all later." Walking unhurriedly to the hatch, he paused before exiting; then turned, and announced, "Sic Vis Pacem, Para Bellum."

Then he was gone, and Murrue turned to Sophia. "Any idea what that was about?"

The Victorian Kestrel closed her eyes. "He said, 'If you want peace, you must be prepared for war'," she said softly. "In case that means anything to you."

Perhaps it does, Murrue thought, pondering the words. Perhaps that's what set him on this long road to begin with...

She began to wonder, then, if the roots of Ken DiFalco's apparent treason went farther back than any of them had ever considered.

Desert Dawn Camp, March 1st, C.E. 71 (two days previously)
The first twenty-four hours after the Battle of Talbadiya, the Archangel's crew and the Desert Dawn guerrillas had been too tired to celebrate their victory; the battle had taken its toll even on the survivors.

Now, though, on the night following that momentous day, they were in the mood for a little partying. Even the stone-faced Grimaldi Falcon had been seen to crack a millimeter-smile, though he seemed to find the amount of drinking going on distasteful.

Probably, Kira thought to himself, amused, he doesn't like anything that might "alter one's consciousness". Yeah, that's how he'd put it; and he'd scold people for deliberately impairing their own performance. He shook his head. To him, the world is one big equation, consisting of nothing but numbers and battle strategies. Then he winced, remembering one reason that was probably so: he'd lost his parents -adopted though they may have been- when his own former comrades destroyed Heliopolis.

That incident had thrust the ace back into the war he'd tried desperately to leave behind. It had forced him to slay his own comrades, to make plans that, if they failed, might bring about their downfall, instead of merely humbling them, and forcing both sides to the negotiating table.

He wants to be in this war even less than I do, Kira realized. For me, the only part that makes it hard to fight is Athrun; for him, it's everyone he's ever known. What does it feel like, to know that your sworn comrades are now your sworn enemies?

He didn't want to find out. And with any luck, he wouldn't have to.

Inside the War Room, the officers stood at the big table with Sahib Ashman. "To a new desert dawn," he said, lifting a glass.

"To a victorious future," Murrue agreed, raising one of her own.

"I'll drink to that," Mu and Sophia said simultaneously, before giving each other startled looks and bursting into laughter.

Those two are so alike it's scary, Falcon thought, examining his own glass. "To a world where not every waking moment is spent trying to blow someone else to pieces."

Murrue, about to take a sip, glanced at him, eyebrow raised. "Aren't you a little young for this, Falcon?" she asked.

Sophia snorted. "Don't worry about him," she advised. "First of all, he's a Coordinator; by their standards, he's about as adult as you can get. Second... according to Metzinger's notes, he's designed to be incapable of getting drunk."

"The man was apparently obsessed with efficiency," Ken remarked. "To a time when I don't have to slice madmen into sashimi," he said, and downed his glass with seeming gusto.

His sister shook her head. "I don't think I'll ever quite make sense of you, Falcon."

He gazed at her, one eye visible, the other, with the silver tracery, hidden behind an eyepatch. "That's the idea," he said quietly, setting aside the glass. "Sahib," he said, turning to the resistance leader, "you know your war isn't over. You've defeated the Desert Tiger, but that won't stop them. They'll just regroup, and come after you again."

Sahib shrugged indifferently. "We knew that from the start, Commander. ZAFT is persistent, yes; but as you said, they'll need time to regroup. In the meantime, we have a small respite, and time to build up our own resources. If they come after us again, we'll fight them again." He touched the pistol he wore at his belt. "We will fight, to our last man."

Mu noticed something flicker in his younger brother's eye. Probably thinking of Endymion, he thought. Or maybe the Bloody Valentine. The kid's been through a lot.

"You may have to fight to the last man," he pointed out quietly. "We won't be around to help the next time war comes to you."

Ashman met his gaze levelly. "I'm aware of that, Commander La Flaga. But we all do what we must, don't we? You've done your part here, and believe me, we're grateful." He looked up at the cave ceiling, as though looking at the stars beyond. "But now it's time for you to resume your journey; that's more important than you aiding us here."

Natarle looked at him, eyes narrow. "You think the Archangel is really that important?"

The guerrilla cocked an eyebrow, nodding over at the ex-ZAFT pilot. "He thinks so; and I'm not inclined to bet against the mastermind beyond the abortive Operation Guillotine."

Ken tilted his head. "You knew about that?"

Sahib laughed. "People talk, Commander; you and Captain Ramius were hardly alone on the Bridge when you mentioned it."

The ace looked -almost- rueful. "Tolle," he muttered. "No, more likely Kuzzey; Tolle's mouth isn't big enough." He shrugged. "Well, done is done; it hardly matters anymore."

One of the children from Tassil ran in about then. "Father!" he shouted, breathing heavily from the run. "The Elder wants us to gather and honor our fallen warriors."

The five officers and the resistance leader exchanged glances, and moved quietly out into the desert night.

As the Tassil Elder spoke the Roll of the Dead, Ken DiFalco stood upon one of the hills, looking down at the ceremony. As always, he remained apart.

This place... is not where I belong, he thought. Their sacrifices were great and noble... but it is not my place to join them. Not tonight... not with my mission yet incomplete.

"Hey, Falcon," a voice said quietly from behind him. "What are you doing up here, alone?"

The ace turned to see Kira approaching him, Flay on his arm; the latter didn't appear terribly pleased to see him, but that didn't come as a surprise.

Ken was silent for long moments, but finally spoke quietly. "This isn't my ceremony," he murmured. "I don't belong here, Kira; it's not my place to join in."

Kira reached out and gripped his mentor's shoulder. "Falcon, they may not be your people... but we are. You're one of us, one of the Archangel's crew. You're not doing everything on your own now. You have a place here, with us. Besides, wasn't it you that got me to stay with the ship in the first place?"

The pilot thought about that. "I guess you have a point, Kira," he admitted. "Let's go." Without waiting for a reply, he started down the hill toward the small cluster of Archangel officers. "Let us celebrate while we can," he added over his shoulder. "Tonight we enjoy our victory; tomorrow we resume our long journey to our destiny."

Just what does he mean by that? Kira wondered.

Archangel, Upper Deck Atop Starboard Gottfried, March 3rd, C.E. 71
A number of mechanics and other enlisted personnel, as well as three students-turned-Bridge-crewmen, now occupied a deck whose only purpose in the blackness of space was to serve as a cover for the enormous Gottfried beam cannons. In atmosphere, however, it served admirably for getting fresh air.

"Wow!" Tolle exclaimed, running over to the railing. "It's great to be on the water!"

There were sounds of agreement from most of those present; a noticeable exception was Kuzzey. Miriallia Haw, on the other hand, was feeling better than she had in weeks. "This feels wonderful," she sighed happily, leaning against railing. "Blue sky, open water, and no sand in the air."

"I guess it's okay," Kuzzey said dubiously. "But I'm feeling a little dizzy; and I've never seen this much water in one place before."

Tolle nodded in comprehension. "That's right, I forgot; you were born in Heliopolis itself, weren't you?"

"Yeah; I thought the desert was bad, but this is a lot worse." Kuzzey shuddered. "It gets really deep in some places, doesn't it?"

Mir glanced at him sidelong. Why not? she thought. "Yeah," she agreed, "and there're monsters down there, too."

The always-jumpy crewman paled, and Tolle shook his head. "Oh, stop teasing him, Mir. Listen, Kuzzey, the only monsters down there are the ones ZAFT put there; mobile suits. No sea monsters or anything."

That calmed him; slightly. "You're sure?"

"Yep." And Tolle went back to watching the water go by, enjoying this rare respite from tension, planning and combat.

Mir did the same; but as she did so, she noticed the hatch leading to the other Gottfried's upper deck open, and a familiar trench-coated figure climb up. As always, he was alone.

There's always something setting him apart, she thought, watching him. He's one of us, yet he keeps to himself; but why? Just what did he do that torments him like this? Why does he insist on doing everything himself, and why is he convinced the price of failure is the death of the human race?

She didn't know. She wasn't sure if anyone truly knew, besides the ace himself... and perhaps Patrick Zala.

Archangel, Upper Deck Atop Port Gottfried
The brown-haired, eyepatch-wearing youth stepped off the last step into the sunlight, unaware of Mir's observation. He was more interested in having some time to think outside of metal bulkheads.

Commander Kenneth DiFalco, he thought to himself. Identification number six-one-eight-five-zero-two. Last assigned as Commander, DiFalco team; temporary attached duty, ZAFT Special Forces, Special Engineering Unit. Highest kill score of any ZAFT pilot, youngest recipient of the Order of the Nebula, architect of some of ZAFT's most ambitious -and successful- plans. And also the world's most colossal idiot, and possibly the man responsible for humanity's demise. He snorted to himself. Brilliant. Sure you are. Also dedicated to making sure you kill no more of your comrades than strictly necessary, going out of your way to disable rather than destroy. Yet the machine your loyal minions are even now building has been designed -by you- for the express purpose of annihilating anything that gets in its way as rapidly and efficiently as possible. Some hero.

Ken snorted at himself, and decided now wasn't the time for such thoughts. He'd come out here to relax, after all, and railing at himself for his failures wouldn't exactly help him do that.

Sighing, he unfastened his trench coat, letting it drop to the deck, then pulled off his eyepatch. Nobody around to see anyway, he reasoned, stuffing it in a pocket. Though I'd better not look toward the east. The thought of direct sunlight entering his unprotected, infrared-sensitive left eye was not in the least pleasant.

Rubbing the diagonal scar left over from the injury most people believed had cost him the eye, Ken wondered where Victor Tempest was now. The younger man was clearly losing his mind; that had been obvious from the time he'd attacked his own commander, at the Eyrie. Now, though, it seemed he also had a death wish... literally.

"Kill me, Falcon! Just kill me and be done with it!" And later, "Falcon! Finish the job, you coward!"

Ken didn't know what was going through his former student's head; but it was becoming increasingly clear the man was a menace. "You keep popping up, Victor," he murmured. "Why can't you just leave us alone? If you want to die that badly, go fight someone who cares... like the Alaska base."

He wondered what Huckebein would be flying the next time they met; even if his LaGOWE was salvageable, it wouldn't be much good in most situations. For example, if he attacked them out here, it would be utterly useless... Probably something flight-capable, he thought. Submarine mobile suits can't do much against the Archangel, especially if she takes off; and he has to know I'd tear him apart in that sort of situation. Then he snorted. Of course, that's what he wants me to do, so maybe I can't rule that out after all. Still... some variant of GINN or DINN is more likely.

Unfortunately, it was likely to be something Ken wasn't familiar with; Huckebein's mission was apparently important enough that he was getting a lot of prototype machines to test out. First the CGUE DEEP Arms, then the LaGOWE... what might be next?

Just a few more weeks, he thought. Just a few more weeks, and I don't care what they send after us. Preybird will be enough to counter anything in ZAFT's inventory, including the Freedom and Justice. Before they left the desert, Ken had gotten an anonymous transmission directly to his pocket computer; it was a report from his team, which had been relayed from some location on Earth itself.

He wasn't sure exactly how it had arrived -though the underlying computer code suggested to him that it had come from the wreck of the Lesseps- but it had provided him with some useful information, such as a report informing him that the careful technology leaks had gotten exactly the intended result. But Those two machines still aren't a match for Preybird. Nothing is... except that.

That was the one part of the report Ken had found genuinely frightening. In a private video message contained within the transmission, Sparky had stated in a cold, tense voice that the NJC project had finally yielded results. On the one hand, that meant Preybird would be completed on schedule. On the other...

We have six months, he thought, making an estimate based on where it had been when he left. Six months, before GENESIS is born and destroys us all. Six months... to save a world from destruction.

It was a crushing burden. Six months till Judgment Day... Would he succeed in time? Could he succeed at all? Only the relatively generous time factor kept Ken from outright despair. He still had time; if only because he knew Zala would integrate as many new technologies as possible, thus slowing down construction schedules.

"In six months," he whispered, "I'll be ready. In six months, the Shiva Option is unleashed, and come what may, only one will survive. Then it ends... and whatever happens, I'll make sure Patrick isn't around to see it."

He made that as a solemn pledge, to the men and women who had fought and died with him, for him, all for the goal the Patrick Zala now threatened. No matter what happened, even if Patrick was victorious he wouldn't be around to see it. I didn't die at Endymion just to watch everything we've worked for be blown away by one vengeance-crazed lunatic. And that, Patrick, is exactly what you've become. I'm sorry about Lenore, but this is not the way.

Light footsteps behind him jolted him out of his thoughts. "I hope I'm not intruding, Falcon," Murrue said softly, stepping onto the upper deck.

Ken shook his head. "No, that's okay, Murrue. I... I was just thinking, that's all." He gazed out at the sea. "But too much time to think often leads me to brooding, which really isn't conducive to clear thinking."

She stepped up to the railing to his left. "I can see that." Glancing over at his left profile, she paused. "You're not wearing your eyepatch?"

He hesitated. Oh, to blazes with it. "That's right," he acknowledged, turning toward her. "Because I didn't lose the eye."

Murrue blinked in surprise, seeing the bright, silver tracery that glowed even in the midday light. "What in the world...?"

"Sophia neglected to mention that particular genetic modification," Ken said dryly, "probably because she thinks I lost the eye, too. But actually, while the scar is from the incident people think, it's not why I wear they eyepatch." The faintest trace of an ironic smile touched his lips. "I wear it because, when I was sixteen, this pattern began to form in the eye. At first, I took to wearing sunglasses, simply because the effect disturbed people. But soon, the eye's function began to change; I could see into the infrared and ultraviolet ranges. Now, imagine what that must be like, when the effect manifests itself in the middle of a desert."

She winced, thinking of how much the reflected thermal energy must have hurt. "I had no idea."

"You weren't supposed to." He turned back to the sea. "I am an arrogant man, Murrue; I won't deny that. I have also long been in that habit of concealing my strengths, a habit which served me well in the realm of military tactics and strategy. The ability to see beyond what most people can is very useful at times; I have little use for nightvision equipment, for example, particularly since I'm ambidextrous. More importantly, when people think I have only one eye, they assume that I have a blind side; and that my depth perception is practically nil."

"I did wonder how you piloted a mobile suit so well with such a handicap," Murrue admitted. "I guess I just assumed your cockpit displays were set up in such a way to compensate for that."

Ken shook his head. "You should have taken a closer look at Raptor's systems. Aside from the fact that I have little use for the targeting computer as long as I can see -like Mu, I have very good situational awareness- it's set up nearly the same as Kira's Strike." He frowned. "A remarkable young man, Kira; his ability is almost beyond belief. He took to a mobile suit even faster than I did, and if he's not up to my level yet, he's approaching it rapidly."

"Hm." The Captain leaned against the railing for a time, silent. "So," she said after a while, "just what brought you out here, anyway? Needed someplace peaceful to brood?"

"Actually," he admitted, "I was hoping to relax; but thoughts of other matters kept intruding."

"Like what?"

Ken shrugged. "Past. Present. Future." He said nothing more for several minutes; then, abruptly, "Patrick Zala is a madman, you know. Completely out of his mind."

Murrue raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

"I was his right-hand man, Murrue. Believe me, I got to know the guy well enough to gauge his mental state." He fingered the Order of the Nebula that still hung around his neck. "It was the Bloody Valentine that did it; his wife Lenore died there, that day."

"Did you know her?" She was curious; she hadn't heard him talk this much about his time with ZAFT the whole time he'd been with the ship. He didn't seem to be the type to tell war stories, except for exchanging the odd tale with fellow pilots like Mu. People who would understand exactly what he'd been through.

"Yes," Ken said, in answer to her question. "Not well; she died when I was still just an average elite pilot." The apparent contradiction in those words didn't seem to bother him. "But I met her a couple of times, during various functions." The slightest suggestion of a grimace. "I'm not a big fan of parties, but I was getting enough attention that I hadn't much choice but to attend. This was around the time of the blockade, when I first flew in combat and began to make a name for myself."

"Which was also what brought you to Zala's attention," Murrue guessed.

"Exactly. I had a reputation for having a cool head in a crisis, and my then-commander swore by my battle tactics. It wasn't long before I was doing most of the planning for the team; which is probably one reason I got one of my own so early."

"And you were on the same team as Rau Le Creuset?" His reaction surprised her.

There was no disguising the loathing in his expression or his voice. "Yes, we were on the same team; before that bastard got to be Patrick's fair-haired boy and wound up being promoted above me. He's the bastard who sent my people out to die at Endymion." He trailed off into increasingly vehement cursing.

Murrue blinked at the tirade. "I don't understand. You had your own team; how could he have...?"

"He was in overall command of the battle," Ken said harshly. "He sent the Gray Demons to cover one sector of the battle area all by ourselves, with no support at all. At the time, I thought it was merely an expression of confidence in our ability to get the job done, but now I'm not so sure; as if it matters." His hands clenched into fists. "I went in there with twelve people," he grated, "and five of us came out alive!"

Endymion had left its mark, she saw; that was more emotion than she'd ever seen from him, even the day he learned Victor Tempest was still alive. "Sounds like you left your heart at Endymion Crater," she said quietly, unsure of what else to say; to her surprise, it was apparently the right thing.

In point of fact, Ken was highly amused by the remark. You're more right than you know, Murrue, he thought with an inner chuckle.

"Yes," he said aloud, more somberly. "You might say that. Endymion was nearly the end of the Gray Demons; the survivors flew only one more sortie before I was transferred out. We wreaked havoc during Operation Aquila, though."

"Operation Aquila?" Murrue frowned. "I'm not familiar with the codename."

"You'd never heard of Guillotine, either," he pointed out. "Of course, Guillotine never happened; but you have heard of Aquila because it was internal-use only. Not many operation codes were ever known to the Alliance." He looked up at the sky. "'Aquila' was actually something of a tongue-in-cheek reference. We were going after the resource satellite Nova, so what better name?" At her blank look, he explained, "Aquila is a region of space where a lot of supernovae were observed a couple of centuries ago; more than any other area on record. It seemed the sort of thing to name an operation with such a target."

"I guess so," Murrue agreed, absently looking at his scar. "By the way," she said suddenly, "how did you get the scar?"

"This?" Ken ran his hand down the white mark. "This is from the time my student and friend tried to kill me." He went on to describe how it had gone, for he remembered it in vivid detail.

Falcon was standing in his office at the Eyrie, back to the door, going over battle plans for the Gray Demons' next sortie. "Be conservative," he murmured. "Don't be too bold when you're shorthanded."

The hatch suddenly slid open. "Are these orders for real?" the black-haired young man, wearing a gray flight suit with a katana at his side, demanded. "Please tell me you're kidding!"

"No, Victor, I'm not," Falcon replied, turning. "Those orders are correct. You're leaving with the next supply shuttle."

"You can't do this to me!" Victor Tempest shouted. "We went through the Academy together, remember? We fought together at Yggdrasil and Jachin Due. I was one of your first picks when you formed this team! I-"

"Enough, Victor," the Commander said firmly. "You know as well as I do what happened out there yesterday. Your foolhardy, glory hound antics very nearly got me killed, and almost took the rest of the team down with us when they had to charge in to rescue us. That, Tempest, means you're off the team. You do not needlessly endanger your comrades; you did, and that makes you a liability in combat. That's all that matters."

"But we're friends, Falcon!" Tempest said desperately.

"If I chose my men based on friendship, Tempest, Dearka Elsman would be in your slot," Falcon said coldly. "He, unlike you, knows how to follow orders, and he knows not to try to play the patronage game with me. And, also unlike you, he knows me from well before the Academy. No, Tempest, the fact that we're friends is irrelevant. What you seem to have forgotten is that our primary objective is the defense of the PLANTs, not the mindless killing of Naturals."

"They're the enemy," Tempest said stubbornly.

"But not forever," his commander countered. "The goal is to defeat the enemy without wiping him out, Tempest; the idea is to win freedom and independence for the homeland, not conquer Earth and subjugate the Naturals."

"That's not what Representative Zala says," Victor challenged.

"I don't care a wit what Patrick Zala thinks," Falcon said contemptuously. "The man may be the leader of ZAFT, but my ultimate allegiance is to the PLANTs themselves, not a pompous, genocidal loon like him." He turned away again. "You're off the team, Tempest. That's final."

"I don't think so, Boss," Tempest said menacingly. "I think you've lost the right to lead this team. I think someone with a more proper attitude should be in charge. I think..." Steel rasped against wood. "I think that someone should be me."

Falcon never saw the blade coming for his back, but his reflexes sensed it, and his own blade came out, even as he turned.

His blade caught Tempest's, forcing him back a step. "Just what do you think you're doing, Victor?" he demanded.

"Taking over," Tempest answered, bringing his katana forward again, narrowly missing his commander's face. "You are not the right man for the job, Commander. Not anymore."

"Don't be a fool, Victor! Even if you win, you know the penalty for assaulting a superior officer!"

Tempest's blade came around again, biting into Falcon's flesh, arcing diagonally across his left eye, and the commander dropped back a pace, hand instinctively going to cover the wound. Tempest pressed the attack, but Falcon forced his muscles to obey; his left hand returned to the katana's hilt, and he parried the stroke.

"Now you leave me no choice, Victor," he hissed, using all his mental discipline to block the pain from his wounded face. "You'll die for this."

"I don't think so, Falcon." Tempest spun, using the rotation of his body to add power to his next strike; it was, however, his undoing, and nearly his death. His commander ducked to the side, and before he could recover, Falcon swept his blade up, cutting across Tempest's right eye, and dropping down to cut off the last two fingers of his left hand...

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

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

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

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

When at last the ace pilot finished his calm enumeration of events, Murrue turned back to the sea, frowning. "So that's how it was," she said at last. "I'd wondered. But then how can he be alive?"

Ken shrugged. "I presume they replaced his heart somehow, after I killed him; but how he managed to retain brain function for that long, I do not know." He interlaced his fingers as they rested on the railing. "More importantly... why? Victor attempted to kill his commanding officer; and believe me, in ZAFT you'll get executed for committing lesser crimes than that. And even if he hadn't, I still wouldn't understand it. According to Andy Waltfeld, Kyle Kreitzman is about the only person in ZAFT who can stand him at all at this point."

She thought about that. "I'd say that he was brought back specifically to go after you, but I guess that idea doesn't work, does it? By the time you'd defected, he would've been long dead."

"Yeah. Unless..." His eyes narrowed. "Wait a second."

Murrue tilted her head. "What is it?"

"I seem to remember something..." Ken frowned, concentrating, and then nodded to himself. "Of course. They'd just perfected cryogenics about then; he must have been frozen, then thawed and repaired months later..."

"But according to Commander La Flaga, Huckebein had been active for months before you even came aboard," she protested.

"I know that. They must have been sufficiently concerned by something -the possibility of my turning certain data over to the Earth Forces, or a myriad of other possibilities- that they brought him out right when they realized I was AWOL for good."

Murrue was silent once again. "Falcon," she said finally, "just what is it that you know that would make ZAFT so desperate to remove you from the situation? How did you come to be so highly-placed in ZAFT to begin with? A seventeen-year-old, Coordinator or no, doesn't get that high without either patronage or something extremely valuable to his superiors; and despite your friendship with the son of Tad Elsman, I doubt it was patronage."

It was Ken's turn to remain silent. How much do I tell her? he wondered. How much can I? Some things... are better left unsaid. Some burdens... no one else should bear. She has no idea how valuable this ship is, in the grand scheme of things; no idea what is truly happening behind the scenes.

The Grimaldi Falcon knew a great deal about the war that Murrue Ramius did not. Some of it he intended to reveal... but not yet. If introduced at the proper time, it could swing Archangel over to the side of what he expected would eventually become the war's third faction. Things about who was really controlling the Earth Alliance, behind the scenes...

LOGOS, Ken thought. Them, and Blue Cosmos. If only I knew more... but I know enough. Armed with that knowledge, Archangel could become the centerpiece of the Shiva Option, along with Asmodeus, once the real war begins. With Lord Uzumi's aid -if he's willing to follow through with what we discussed- we could make this longshot into a reality.

But for that to happen, I have to tell her something now.

"Let me put it to you this way," Ken said, after long moments of thought. "If you were Patrick Zala, and you were seeking a way to end the war with as much damage to the opposing side as possible -preferably total genocide- who would you look for to plan it for you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You'd look over your forces's ranks, searching for the most brilliant strategist you could find; and if he happened to be a superb tactician, as well, that would be just a bonus. When you add in the fame -and, on the part of the Earth Forces- infamy, that individual gained as commander of an elite unit, are you going to care how old he is?" He shook his head. "Murrue, Patrick's sole goal in life now is to wipe out all Naturals, in revenge for Junius Seven. When he picked me out of the crowd, he didn't see a teenager. He saw the one man who might make his crazy dream a reality."

Murrue gazed at him for awhile. "You were considered that brilliant?"

"Yes; and," he pointed out dryly, "with a certain justification. Even my one failed plan turned into a brilliant success, remember. Unfortunately," he added, looking a little grim, "I wasn't quite brilliant enough. If I had been, I never would have helped him along."

She slowly nodded. "And that's how you came to wield such influence in ZAFT."

"Yes. That, and... one other thing." That "one other thing" being something Ken chose not to discuss; the time had not come for such revelations. "And that," he said with a certain finality, "is also why I'm here, on the so-called 'legged ship', instead of back in PLANTs, figuring out how to destroy you. Or, perhaps more likely, in charge of the team hunting you."

The Captain raised an eyebrow. "You think Zala would have let you come here to personally 'lead the charge'?"

"Oh, yes," he affirmed. "By now, my plan would require little oversight from me; effectively self-sustaining, you might say. In fact, that's kind of the problem. It reached that point before I realized what was really going on." He shrugged. "Oops."

Murrue smiled, seeing that, at the very least, she'd managed to lift his mood a little. "Well," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "just between you and me, I much prefer having you here, instead of the alternative."

"Do you know," Ken said softly, looking out to sea, "I think I do, too."

Archangel, Aft Deck
Kira Yamato stepped through the hatch into the bright sunlight, uniform tunic already removed and slung over his shoulder. Shielding his eyes against the sun -the ship was traveling east, after all- he walked toward the railing, and sat on the deck.

Like his friend and mentor Falcon, he'd come out here seeking peace; peace he knew he wouldn't find within the confines of the ship. Flay, much as he cared for her, could get a little... suffocating, at times, the way she clung to him. He hadn't been on good terms with Sai for weeks; and none of the others would understand.

Except maybe Falcon, he thought wearily. But he has his own burdens; I won't add to it. Besides... even he has an easier time with all this fighting...

To think, when it had all begun, he'd just been another college student, studying at a technical college at a neutral space colony. Then, in less than twenty-four hours, it had all come apart. He'd been forced to pilot a mobile suit to save his own life, and those of his friends; Heliopolis itself had been destroyed... and he'd been forced to face his best friend, Athrun Zala, across the sights of a beam rifle.

Kira had thought he was going to leave all that behind, when the Archangel reached Earth, but then his friends had all volunteered to join the Earth Forces, and he'd felt obligated to continue to protect them; and make up for failing to save Flay's father.

For a time after that, he'd found no trouble in fighting; with the certainty -carefully reinforced by Flay- that he was doing the right thing, he'd torn through enemy mobile suits with no thought for the consequence. They were the enemy, and that was all that mattered; they chose to face him in battle, so if they died, it was their own problem.

Then Kira had met Andrew "Desert Tiger" Waltfeld, and he was thrown into inner turmoil once again.

"There are no clear rules for ending a war like this. So how do you determine the winners and the losers? At what point do you put an end to it? When every single one of your enemies has been eliminated?"

"And with the revelation and proliferation of Coordinators, it sowed the seeds of chaos. Glenn, I think, didn't quite understand human nature. He was too much of an idealist to remember that humanity inevitably seizes upon differences as a reason to kill each other."

Was it all because of Coordinators existing? Was George Glenn's revelation truly the root of the conflict? Without Naturals, there would be no Coordinators; the very people bent on exterminating those born through genetic engineering had created them in the first place.

Now... they just want to wipe us out, Kira thought bitterly. They created us; and now that they've decided they don't like their creations they want to throw us away! And to think he was fighting for those very same people...

No, he corrected himself. Not for them. For my friends; for the Archangel. I don't care about the rest of them; as long as this ship survives, I'll be protecting the people I should be, the people who understand that Coordinators are just as human as they are.

None of that helped with his central difficulty, though. He just... he just didn't want to have kill anyone else; but as long as he was in a war, he knew he had little choice.

It just isn't fair! But the universe didn't care about fairness, he thought, his vision blurring. The universe itself didn't care about one young man's problems...

Behind him, the hatch slid open again, and Cagalli Yula stepped onto the aft deck. She paused for a moment, seeing who was already there. "Hi, Kira," she greeted with a smile, resuming her movement. "I see you needed a little fresh air, too."

To her bemusement, Kira stood, looking as though he were about to leave. What's with him? Cagalli wondered, walking to his side. "Kira," she said softly, "you look like you've been crying..."

He didn't reply. He didn't much feel like talking to anyone, so he turned to leave, still averting his gaze. Sorry. But now isn't...

"Wait," she insisted, and grabbed his arm. The Coordinator's bleak expression surprised her, but she didn't let go. "Kira, what's wrong?"

There were any number of things Kira might have said; but he said none of them. He didn't feel like talking, and he didn't expect her to understand anyway, so-

His eyes went wide with surprise when Cagalli suddenly pulled him close in a comforting embrace. "It's okay, Kira," she whispered against his shoulder. "It's all right. Don't worry; everything's going to be just fine."

For some reason, something Kira wouldn't have believed from anyone else he accepted from her without question. His tense muscles finally began to relax, as her soft voice soothed the turmoil in his mind.

After a couple of minutes, she released him and stepped back. "Feeling better?"

He nodded, managing a shy smile. "Yeah... Thanks." The young pilot was feeling better, in fact; better than he had in quite a while. "So," he said, moving over to the railing, "what brings you out here?"

"Fresh air," Cagalli replied, joining him. "For the last few weeks, it's been either dusty air, or recycled air; the sea breeze is kind of refreshing."

Kira nodded. "I know. Even Heliopolis was better than the desert; at least the environment was designed to be comfortable."

"I don't think anybody designed the desert," she said dryly. "But you're right about Heliopolis; or at least you were, before it was destroyed." She glanced at him. "What did happen, in the end?"

He thought back. "It was ZAFT missiles; meant for destroying hardened bases. At least, that's what Falcon and Commander La Flaga say. Anyway, Falcon managed to destroy both machines carrying them before they could fire, but he didn't destroy the missiles themselves. Some kind of malfunction triggered them after the pilots were already dead, and..."

Cagalli nodded. "That explains that." She fell silent for several moments. "You know... you're a pretty strange guy."

Kira blinked at the apparent non sequitur. "Huh?"

"Like that time in the desert, when you freaked out and then slapped me," she explained. "Remember?"

He did, and blushed. "Sorry about that."

She touched his hand, shaking her head. "Hey, I deserved it, okay? You were right. But what I'm wondering is... why are you fighting for the Earth Forces if you're a Coordinator?"

Kira leaned against the rail, staring out to sea. "I guess it does sound strange," he admitted. "I get that a lot." In fact, he got it from just about everybody he met; the only exception was Falcon, and him because he was in exactly the same boat. "It's... complicated."

"I'm sure it is. But the point is, there's a war going on because Naturals and Coordinators are determined to wipe each other out, no matter what the cost." Cagalli looked at his thoughtful face. "I mean, don't you have strong feelings about that?"

He turned to look at her. "What about you? What do you think about it?"

"It doesn't matter to me what your genes look like," she told him. "My feelings toward someone aren't determined by their DNA."

Kira smiled. "Same here." His elbows on the railing, he rested his chin on his hands. "That's why I'm here, really. Because I have Natural friends on this ship, friends who've been with me a long time. And the crew, too; they're not like the rest of the Earth Forces."

Cagalli nodded. "I can understand that. But it must be hard for you, fighting against your own people."

"The way Falcon has it," he said slowly, "is that my 'people' are those on this ship; my friends, those I can trust."

"He's right."

"But you know... there's no difference between Coordinators, and everyone else." Kira looked up at the bright, blue sky. "Not really."

She frowned. "But you guys have faster reflexes, greater strength, greater mental capacity..."

"Not right from birth," he told her. "We have much greater potential, but all it is is potential. Without proper training, we're no better than Naturals. We have to practice and study to reach full potential, just like you; we're not supermen. Our genes govern our potential strengths... but there's more to life than just DNA. It's true," he admitted, "that we don't catch deadly diseases, and that our genes were altered before birth to increase our potential... but I thought everyone aspired to that, even Naturals." He shrugged. "That's why we exist, isn't it?"

"Yeah..." Cagalli nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. I guess this war is just about envy, isn't it? Envy and fear of Coordinator abilities."

"Human nature, I guess." Silence reigned for several minutes after that, but a pleasant one.

Meanwhile, just beyond the hatch, Flay Allster had taken note of what was going on, after searching for Kira for nearly an hour. That's that girl from the desert! she thought, furious. Just what does she think she's doing? She has no right...

Arranging herself carefully, for the best effect, the redhead walked toward the hatch... just as Ken DiFalco came around a corner behind her.

His eyes took in the pair beyond the hatch, and girl heading over to interrupt them, and he smiled to himself. Not this time, Flay. It's time I did something to weaken your hold over Kira; indirectly, at least. He wanted to let the two have their talk in peace... so he pulled out his pocket computer.

In his spare time, the ace had uploaded several interesting backdoor programs into Archangel's software, at first out of boredom, and later suspicion of Flay. Now he chose to activate one that linked hatch controls to the surveillance systems.

Just as Flay reached the hatch, the security cameras noticed her approach, identified her, and relayed the data to the hatch controls. It slid firmly shut while she was in mid-step, causing her to bounce painfully off of it.

By the time Flay climbed back to her feet with a yelp, wondering what had just happened, the brown-haired youth in the trench coat had already slipped quietly away.

On the deck, Kira finally broke the silence. "I was kind of surprised when you came with the Archangel, when we left the desert," he remarked. "I figured you'd be staying behind, after the victory."

Cagalli shrugged. "It's not like I'm actually from there, you know; there wasn't really any reason for me to stay, after we took out Waltfeld. Archangel was the fastest way out of there, and besides... I kinda like you guys."

He wasn't sure how to take that, so he turned to another matter. "How'd you do it, though? Lieutenant Badgiruel must not have been happy about taking on a couple more civilians."

She smiled slyly. "Well, you know what they say: it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission." The blonde girl chuckled to herself. "My father certainly knows it; he's so used to it he just makes sure I have Kisaka with me, and usually doesn't even try to interfere."

Kira looked at her oddly. "Your father?" he asked carefully.

Cagalli's smile froze, and she fell silent, thinking. Oops. I think I just said more than I should have... Oh, forget it. Kisaka won't be happy -if he finds out- but I can trust Kira. He won't tell anyone.

"My full name," she said at last, "is Cagalli Yula Athha." She met his startled gaze. "My father is Chief Representative Uzumi Nara Athha. And I'd really appreciate it if you not tell Kisaka I told you that."

Kira was literally shocked speechless. She's- she's... He hadn't been that stunned since learning that Athrun had joined ZAFT and was part of the attack on Heliopolis. "You're..." He cleared his throat. "You're the princess of Orb?"

"Don't call me that," Cagalli snapped. "You have no idea how much I hate being called a princess; that's one reason I take off as much as I can." She gave him a hard stare. "I'm your friend, Kira, not royalty, got it? If I ever catch you treating me like a princess, I'll..."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I won't. I promise."

She glared at him a moment longer for effect, then relented with a smile. "That's better." Much more relaxed now herself, she leaned against the railing, unconsciously moving a few centimeters closer to her companion. "You know, it feels nice to be able to relax around somebody here; besides Kisaka, I mean. Nice not to have to hide who I am."

"Yeah..." Kira looked back out to sea. Maybe... she would understand...

Cagalli noticed him begin to brood again. "What is it, Kira?"

It didn't take him long to decide to answer; she'd already demonstrated that she could understand, that she did care. "You know the Aegis?" he said finally.

She frowned. "One of the Earth Forces mobile suits ZAFT captured? What about it?"

"The pilot is..." Kira turned to her. "His name is Athrun, Athrun Zala... and he's my best friend."

Cagalli nodded in comprehension, surprised, but not as much as she might be. "Just like Falcon and the Buster's pilot, huh? But... how would you know him?"

"We went to school together, in Copernicus," he told her. "We attended the same prep school, starting about ten years ago. We were the best of friends... but his father called him back to the PLANTs in 68, and my family moved to Heliopolis, so we were forced to part. We didn't see each other again until Heliopolis..."

"During the attack," she finished for him. "And you've been fighting him ever since, right?"

"Yeah..." Kira swallowed. "With Falcon and his friend, it's probably easier; they use their duty to shield themselves from it. But Athrun and me... I never expected him to join ZAFT, and neither of us expected me to end up with the Earth Forces. I..." His fists clenched. "I hate it!"

Cagalli placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Kira."

He forced himself to relax. "Thanks," he said, shaking himself. "It's... something I'm getting used to, I guess. But it still hurts."

"You wouldn't be human if it didn't."

Kira raised an eyebrow. "What about Falcon?"

She snorted. "Did anybody ever say he was human? Besides, he's the same as any of us, the same as you; and how he deals with it has nothing to do with you, anyway."

"Yeah... you're right." Calm once more, he smiled, and turned back to watch the sea go by.

The alarms would soon be going off again, but for now, there were a few precious moments of peace.

Author's note: Archangel has entered a time of peace, and more details of Ken DiFalco's plot have begun to emerge. Meanwhile, enemy forces gather for another attack…

Okay, I know this chapter was fast; and I also know it might not have been the most interesting. I enjoyed it, but I've given up on trying to anticipate reader reaction…

Infinite Freedom, let's just say you're on the right track with Hyperion; beyond that, I will not say.

Actually, the reason for the orbital powersats is mostly that I see no possible way for even the devious Gray Demons to build a power station on the Moon when its entire surface is under the control of the Earth Forces; the fact that the satellite cannon could not otherwise be used in daylight didn't occur to me till later.

No, the Strike won't be getting the Death Blossoms; I imagine you'll be surprised by what is. But yes, the Strike will be getting additional weaponry.

NukeDawg, I doubt the Dreadnought will be appearing; I know considerably less about that than I do about the Hyperion, and there would also be little point, given that Canard Pars won't be the Hyperion pilot who turns up in this story.

'Fraid I can't think of anything Iron Wall might fly; I'll let you know if something occurs me, though, I'll let you know.

Ominae, I think Sophia's encounters with Dearka won't be expounded until he joins the ship; but rest assured, it will be (if nothing else, he and Falcon will be having quite the discussion after he arrives).

Ninofchaos, I'm glad you liked it; I'll be watching for your next chapter, by the way.

Antilles, Falcon was kind of intended to be a level head in a crisis; though I'm planning an incident much later in which he completely loses control. The past will come back to haunt…

Yeah, Falcon has a couple of problems to deal with at once; one will be dealt with in about ten chapters, the other… Well, Victor Tempest will be around for awhile. His death will be an important plot point.

Rau Le Creuset 88, thanks for the information; I'm not sure if the PX system will be present in Preybird, but Kevin Walker's next machine is a distinct possibility. (The one after the rebuilt Stormhawk, I should say; Stormhawk will be destroyed relatively early… and very spectacularly.)

Blue Moon Wolf, while I do appreciate construction criticism, simply knowing that people approve of it is quite satisfying enough. I trust the rest of the story will not disappoint.

Depressed suicidal writer, I'm glad you liked the chapter; and the information is much appreciated. But were you attempting to say something else there? The review looks slightly… incomplete.

Centurious, Victor Tempest's complex tale will be told over quite a long time; and the whole truth will have to wait until the proper moment, which is not for some time yet. And yes, his mental problems are the reason he can't tell Falcon about the mental problems. Not exactly a split personality, though; more that whenever he encounters Falcon, his mental stability rapidly deteriorates beyond him being able to retain full -sane- control of his own body.

ZGMF X-19A Infinite Justice, glad to see you're still enjoying it; though to be honest, I'm not sure what you might have thought of this latest chapter.

Lipana, I'm actually quite content to wait for Destiny to arrive here, now that I at least know it's coming; in fact, I welcome the delay. Admittedly, I'm greatly looking forward to getting started on A Call to Arms, but this will give me time to plan it in very great detail. I already have a highly complex subplot in the works, which ties in with Kevin Walker's special forces past…

Warp Ligia Obscura, the full explanation for the artificial muscle tissue actuators has not yet been rendered, but you're essentially correct (except in one particular: the Berserker state is the primary reason Raptor has stress facture problems, but with his flying it inevitably occurs anyway). Basically, what it does is allow the mobile suit to move as an organic body would (when used in conjunction with another of Preybird's special features, that is); it's a concept I got from Metal Gear Solid 2, specifically from the Metal Gear RAY.

Yes, the Gerbera Straight is exactly what I meant; given Falcon's expertise with a katana, it seemed the appropriate weapon.

The orbiting satellites are there partly so that the satellite cannon can be used in the daytime; but the primary reason is because I just don't see how a power station could be built on the Moon right under the noses of the Earth Forces, who own the entire piece of bloody real estate. Just because they can be used in daylight, though, doesn't mean they can be used in all conditions; a good rainstorm or even cloud cover would prevent Preybird from contacting any of the powersats. The reason? Lasers are easily attenuated, so laser lock under those conditions would be highly unlikely. Then, of course, there's the fact that a weapon that powerful would cause a lot friendly-fire problems…

No, Freedom and Justice will be the only other units which the Gray Demons have any influence over; I don't know much of anything about Testament, but the others are all too new for Falcon's people to have been involved. Thus, I remain true to canon (slightly, at least, given the major twists I've introduced, and will continue to introduce for the rest of the story).

Okay, I may as well say it; pretty obvious anyway. Yes, Sophia will be getting the Hyperion, but it won't be till the Gray Demons join up with the rest of the group, and that won't be till much later. As for the Gunbarrel Striker… I'll simply say that I've been thinking about it.

Yeah, Huckebein the Raven has his problems; eventually they'll lead to his death…

Nope, not quite everything about The Terrible One has been revealed; but that's a tale for much later, as well.

The F-7D… I haven't thought it all through, but I think it'll have a very minor role a little later on. It was mostly introduced to cover a potential plot hole; you'll see what I mean.

The omission of Aisha's snide remarks was mostly because I managed to completely forget about them; fortunately, it was a rather minor point (and yes, I'm sure I'm about to get a lot of people on my case about that assertion).

As you can see, this chapter partially explains how Ken got so high in ZAFT; unsurprisingly, the final explanation will be awhile in coming.

Not so much an error in the contrast as it being premature. Things will change, as the tale progresses…

Do I actually need to make any more cryptic remarks about the possible Dearka/Mir pairing? I don't anyone would believe me if I tried to be cagey anyway. Instead, I'll try saying nothing for a change (except, I think I just said something…).

Those won't be the last spectacular stunts Ken pulls with a mobile suit; just wait until he gets the Preybird.

I'm afraid I must disagree with your assertion that "Clyne Faction" encompasses the entireThree Ships Alliance. According to the official website, it refers simply to the followers of Lacus Clyne, nothing more. The Three Ships Alliance is the actual overall organization name (otherwise, what would be the point of the term existing?).

Oh, yeah, the third Shiva Option is very complex; I haven't even scratched the surface of it yet in what I've written. There are, however, hints of things to come in this chapter, I you can spot them…

No, I wouldn't consider myself a "casual" Gundam SEED fan; I read every scrap of information I can find, so that my background data is as complete as possible. That's one reason the Newtype thing bothered me so much: I don't like discovering that I've missed such an important element (I guess you could kind of consider Kevin Walker something of a Newtype, as well; it would help me explain his powerful empathic -and minor telepathic- capabilities). I'll probably be going into that a little in this story.

I might have a cameo by Gai Murakumo; if, that is, I can find a little more information about his personality. I know a decent amount about his background, but not the way he thinks and acts (unlike Lowe Guele; I've never read the Astray manga, but I've read about him, at least).

Wild Goose 01, glad you like it; and I'm very glad you approve of the pacing. I caught a lot of flack over that back around Chapter 13.

You'll find that the SEED saga will have quite a few changes with the introduction of the Shiva Option; some large, some small. For Brothers in Arms, my changes were largely very minor, whereas this time I decided to stretch my creative muscles a little. You'll notice several alterations in this chapter alone.

Thanks for the additional information about Shiho; her "cameo" will be rather more important than the others, so I need all the data I can get. As it happens, though, I'm informed she did make a very brief appearance in SEED. I have yet to confirm this myself -mostly because I've forgotten what she looks like- but, though she doesn't speak, she can apparently be seen very briefly in Phase 42, I believe when Lacus' radio message is being played in Carpentaria.

As for flightsuits, that may be so; but if I'm not greatly mistaken, some units do wear different uniforms. I refer specifically to FAITH. If I am greatly mistaken, well… Ken DiFalco would probably have had a little more leeway than usual anyway, given his position.

I rather thought I was correct about the Clyne Faction; I'd assume that the official website would know what it's talking about, after all.

It'll be awhile yet before the pairings are revealed; all I can say is, stay tuned.

I guess that's -finally- everything; another ninety minutes gone. Oh, well; the Quick Edit seems to have been fixed, so the next phase of the update shouldn't be so arduous… -Solid Shark