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

The Odin does not belong to me; it is Deathzealot's creation, and the credit is his, not mine

Archangel, Infirmary, July 10th, C.E. 71
When Murrue stepped into the Infirmary, following the battle, she somehow wasn't surprised to see that Ken was conscious, despite the grievous wounds he'd suffered during the events within the Mendel colony itself. He was hooked up to several life support systems, but his expression indicated that he was lucid.

Though it was a little hard to read his expression, since there was a bandage over the place where his eyes used to be.

"Hello, Ken," she greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've just had my eyes cut out, then been shot three times in the torso," Ken replied, with a weak chuckle. "Ask the doc; he knows better than I."

Murrue turned to the ship's doctor. "How is he, then?"

"His condition is perplexing," Doctor Hibson said bluntly. "He lost his spleen, injured his right kidney, and took heavy damage to his prosthetic lung, not to mention losing a lot of blood; were it anyone else, I'd say he ought to be dead. Actually, by the medical science I know, he should be dead... except that something seems to have thrown a wild card into the deck." He turned to the injured pilot. "Let me ask you something, Commander: have you ever suffered nerve damage before?"

Ken took a few moments replying. "My left arm was paralyzed after a training accident in flight school," he said finally. "A week later it was fine. Why?"

"Because your eyes seem to be regenerating."

Murrue's eyes widened. "I didn't know that was possible."

"Neither did I," Hibson informed her. "But the Commander here seems to have phenomenal regenerative traits; not enough to grow a new lung or spleen, but good enough to keep him alive till we fix it, and apparently good enough to grow a new pair of eyes."

"So there is a silver lining," Ken muttered. "There may be one problem, though. Do you have any idea if Metzinger's genetic modifications will resurface?"

Hibson shrugged, knowing the ace was referring to the enhanced visual spectrum of his left eye. "I have no idea, Commander; it's too early to tell. You might come out of it with two normal eyes, one normal and one modified, or... both modified."

"Wonderful," the ace grunted.

Murrue cleared her throat. "In the meantime, I guess this means you won't be flying, hm?"

He shook his head. "Not necessarily. ZAFT has devices that give blind pilots full vision; they're usually in the form of goggles, which I don't have access to at the moment, but Preybird is equipped with a similar system." He smiled thinly. "I prepare for all contingencies, remember."

"So I see. But what about when you're not in the cockpit?"

"Same way I found my way around Mendel, after Victor blinded me. Remember, spatial awareness isn't entirely dependent on eyesight; rarely are all the units on the battlefield visible from the same angle." He tilted his head. "Hearing helps, too; I knew it was you coming in from the sound of your footsteps." The ace's head turned toward Hibson. "Doctor, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with the Captain in private for a few moments."

The doctor hesitated, glanced at the vital readouts next to the bed, and nodded. "Very well, Commander; let me know if I'm needed."

After he'd gone, Murrue raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Ken?"

Ken sighed, relaxing against the sickbed. "I found out a lot of things, in Mendel," he said quietly. "We all did; and I expect Kira's even worse off than I am, right now. The secrets in that place..." He took a deep breath. "I now know who and what Rau Le Creuset is."

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

He touched a photo album that lay on a bedside table, which Mu had brought back from Mendel after retrieving the Strike. "I'd always wondered," he began, "how he ended up with a name like Le Creuset. It's French, and means 'The Crucible'; apparently, he gave himself the name years ago. Rau Le Creuset... Rau, apparently, is an anagram for what appears to be his true name, Aru, which makes him Aru the Crucible. How appropriate..."

Murrue sat on a nearby stool, and looked at him with concern. "Are you feeling all right, Ken?"

He smiled faintly. "As 'all right' as I can be, under the circumstances; if I'm rambling, bear with me. It's pertinent. Anyway, I think he calls himself the Crucible because he wants to bring the entire world down with him, when he dies; and he doesn't have much time left." Ken raised his sightless gaze to her eyes. "He's a clone, you see... a clone of my true father, Al Da Flaga."

She blinked. "He... he's a clone...? But... cloning's been illegal for decades, even before the Torino Protocol was put in place. Unless..."

Ken nodded. "That's right. I don't have any memories of my father -after all, I was created from preserved genetic material well after both of my biological parents died- but according to Mu, he was a tyrannical man... and an arrogant one. He couldn't stand the thought of dying; he sought immortality. Even the latest-generation genetic engineering can't accomplish that, of course, and even if it could, gene manipulation is still limited almost exclusively to prenatal treatments. But in his mind, cloning was apparently good enough; I don't think he realized that a copy of his body wouldn't have the same mind, that he himself would cease to exist, even if an exact copy were created of his mind."

"Or maybe he was satisfied with genetic immortality," she suggested.

He shrugged. "Possible; it would explain some of the things we found at GARM. In any case, Da Flaga sought out one Doctor Ulen Hibiki, and offered to fund his research and experiments in exchange for the doctor cloning him." The ace grimaced. "The first fruit of that project was Aru La Flaga, now known as Rau Le Creuset. Apparently, his aging was deliberately accelerated, so that he could replace Mu as Da Flaga's heir... but when the time came, they found they couldn't reverse the effects. Rau still ages too quickly, thanks to shortened telomeres; he has to take special medication to delay the onset of organ degeneration."

Murrue shuddered. "No wonder he was driven mad..."

"Yes." Ken clenched a fist. "He wants to take the whole world down with him, too... and I'm the stupid bastard who gave him the one tool he truly needs to accomplish it. My folly in creating both the original Shiva Option and GENESIS has made me the man responsible for the demise of humanity; the architect of Armageddon..."

She flinched, hearing the self-condemnation in his voice, and took a moment to collect her thoughts. He really believes it... He believes that he's responsible for whatever Le Creuset does with GENESIS... and that'll tear him apart, in the long run.

"Now listen to me, Ken," she began, looking at him sternly; though the expression was wasted, considering that he was blind. "What a single madman does with your creation is not your responsibility; you weren't the one who created Rau Le Creuset, and you certainly weren't the one who drove him mad. If anyone is to blame, it's your father. You designed GENESIS as an instrument of peace, remember."

"I was also the idiot who turned it into a weapon of war," he reminded her. "Its construction proceeded quite nicely under my direction, remember."

"And if it had been used for the purpose you intended, it would've been a good idea," Murrue said quietly. "Highly destructive, yes; but the Second World War was won through similar desperate measures... and you were a little more circumspect than the engineers of the Manhattan Project."

That, to her relief, provoked a small smile of amusement. "That's true; I realize the situation was hardly ideal, but I don't think it was very smart of them to test a nuclear bomb when they weren't even sure the reaction would stop. Blowing up the planet is a rather extreme way of winning a war, I think." The smile vanished. "Of course, that's pretty much what GENESIS will do, if it's ever fired..."

She started to speak again, then paused, an arrested expression on her face. "GENESIS must be complete by now," she said slowly, "since after all, the N-jammer canceler technology's been around for months, which should be ample time for that. So... why hasn't Zala fired it already?"

Ken chuckled humorlessly. "Because he isn't a complete idiot. Look, Murrue, anti-Natural sentiment is strong in the PLANTs right now, but very few of even the radicals would support committing genocide on that scale. If he attempted it now, he might well face a coup d'etat, even without the intervention of the few sleeper agents I still have within ZAFT. At the least, he'd be forced out of office by a special election." He shook his head. "No, Murrue, Patrick won't dare fire until a situation arises where he has an excuse to, like a massive attack on the PLANTs. Even there, he'll have to start small; probably by using it for its intended FACM function."

"Too bad that's the very situation we're trying to engineer," she said sadly.

He sighed. "I know, Murrue... but this is the only way we were able to come up with, despite months of planning before I even heard of the Archangel. GENESIS must be stopped, but not while the Earth Forces still have massive nuclear strike capability. For now, our only option is the MAD deterrent... until we can force a battle in which we destroy both GENESIS and the majority of the Alliance's nuclear weapons."

Both fell silent for a time after that, both thinking of the devastation they had no choice but to allow to begin. For Ken, of course, it was worse; while Murrue might be thinking of the tragedy that would result if they failed to intercept even one nuclear missile, but he was envisioning what would occur if he failed to destroy GENESIS before it could be turned on Earth itself.

I'll have some time, he told himself. The first shot will be against the approaching fleet; the second will probably be aimed at Ptolemaeus. It's the third I have to worry about...

Murrue finally broke the uncomfortable silence. "So, Ken... what exactly was going on with Tempest? Did you learn anything, before he died?"

Ken nodded. "I did indeed. Victor was another clone of my father."

She blinked. "Another one? But... he didn't even have the same hair color..."

"Mu was in here earlier," he explained obliquely, "and told me what was on the disc Victor gave me. It seems that, after his lab was attacked and I was lost, Doctor Metzinger came up with an idea to replace me: in this case, starting with the same preserved genetic material that had been used to create me, but through direct cloning, instead of artificial insemination. Based on his experience with Rau -Metzinger used to be one of Hibiki's assistants- he knew that, if I were to ever run into Victor, I'd be able to sense him, the same way I do Rau; and also, if -as turned out to be the case- he were to encounter Rau, they'd recognize each other for what they were. So, Metzinger did some genetic manipulation beyond merely making Victor a Coordinator. Using the so-called 'designer children' process, he changed Victor's hair color, and used a couple of tricks to cancel the 'psychic resonance' effect."

Murrue shuddered. "But... Metzinger had to have known Tempest would suffer from the same accelerated aging as Le Creuset..."

Ken nodded. "Yes, he knew; but he didn't care. See, it was about this time that Metzinger and Hibiki embarked on another experiment... one to create the so-called 'Ultimate Coordinator'. The first fruits of that project were a fellow by the name of Canard Pars... and me. They used what Metzinger had learned from my creation and Pars' supposed failure to make Victor, essentially as a test bed for the techniques they would soon use on one final test subject." He shrugged painfully. "Victor was nothing more than a throwaway; an intermediate step between myself and the Ultimate Coordinator."

She felt her eyes narrow. "And... was there ever a successful test subject from that effort?"

"Two." The expression on his face wasn't a pleasant one. "And that's why Le Creuset led us into GARM... because their names are Cagalli Yula Athha, and Kira Yamato."

Murrue gasped. "Kira and Cagalli are...? I didn't even know Cagalli was a Coordinator..."

"Neither does she," he said quietly. "I knew, though. That day, in Africa, when we sparred... I knew no Natural could've done what she did. I've heard of prodigies, but even that couldn't account for her skill. I've been studying martial arts since I was very young, Murrue, and I'm the product of a program intended to create the perfect soldier. In competition I've defeated Coordinators who are older than I am without much difficulty; yet she, while not quite my equal, threw me around like a rag doll." He shook his head. "But even I never suspected this..."

That's... that's barbaric... "That's the sickest thing I ever heard..." She cleared her throat. "Does either of them know?"

"Kira does," Ken answered. "It nearly broke him, too... but he's a tough kid. Cagalli, though... unless Kira's told her, or Sophia, I don't think so."

Murrue tilted her head. "What does Sophia know?"

"I don't know; but I'm convinced she knows something." He clenched a fist. "If Metzinger weren't dead, I'd kill him... and Hibiki, too. Those twisted men killed who knows how many embryos before they finally produced a viable subject. If it weren't for the fact that my modifications were less extreme, the odds are good I wouldn't be here, either."

She nodded slowly. "How different are you from them? And how different are they from each other?"

"Theoretically, they have the same capabilities," Ken said slowly. "Cagalli may not exhibit much evidence of it, but that's because she, unlike Kira, was raised to believe she was a Natural. She's inhibited by her own beliefs." He paused. "As for how I differ from them, that's hard to say. In purely combat-related areas, I'm actually superior to Kira; my reflexes are measurably faster, I have far greater spatial awareness, and my body is more resilient... as we can tell from my regenerative capabilities. Kira and Cagalli, however, have high neural conduction rates, and are more balanced; where I was enhanced greatly in specific areas, they received lesser enhancement to everything." He snorted. "Rau was right about one thing: mankind tried to play God, and sorrow is the result..."

Murrue closed her eyes. "Yes..." What could drive someone to do things like that to their own? And... how did Cagalli become involved in the project in the first place? She almost asked Ken, but realized then that he didn't know either. Sophia, on the other hand...

As though sensing her thoughts, Ken nodded. "Yes; I think Sophia has some explaining to do. I have a feeling she knew all along about Hibiki... and that she's known, at least since Orb, about Cagalli."

"Probably... but don't be too harsh with her," she suggested. "Think about it from her point of view. Would youfeel comfortable telling someone they exist only because of some madman's twisted experiment?"

He grimaced. "Point. Besides, I don't exactly have the energy to be harsh right now."

Murrue smiled. "I can see that; I really think you need to rest." She started to stand, then paused. "Ken... if you're more capable as a soldier, but Kira has more genetic enhancements overall... which of you is better in the cockpit? If it came down to it, which of you would win, if you fought?"

Ken shrugged. "I have no idea, Murrue," he said quietly. "There are more factors than mere genetics involved. Genes govern your potential strengths, potential destiny... but that's not all there is to life. You know the old argument of Nature versus Nurture; it's always been my view that nurture is the greater factor. Also... the strength of your convictions plays a tremendous role. You have to have the will to see it through to the end, no matter what."

"Then it sounds like you'd be about even," she opined. "Kira's shown his conviction by returning to the battlefield after the destruction of the Strike, and you've been on this path, despite fighting with the Earth Forces and even killing your own fellow ZAFT soldiers, for months now."

"That's true," he concurred. "But there's one difference between Kira and me." He paused significantly. "He doesn't see that sometimes you have to see it through to the very end... to the death."

Archangel, Observation Deck
It took a concerned Cagalli several hours to find Kira; for some reason, he'd simply disappeared after returning to the ship following the battle... and that was so unlike him that she was getting quite worried.

She finally found him in the place where, upon further reflection, she should have looked first. He'd changed back into the red uniform his alliance with Ken's forces had bestowed on him... and also wore an expression of deep depression, as he floated before the huge viewport.

Cagalli quietly drifted up next to him. "Kira? ...Are you okay?"

Kira jerked, startled by her arrival. "Oh, uh, hi, Cagalli..." He looked away, staring off into deep space. "It's... it's nothing, really."

"Don't try to tell me that, Kira. You're a terrible liar." She gripped his shoulder and glared at him. "Something happened in Mendel; what was it? And don't try to tell me you don't want to talk about it, because I'm not leaving until you answer me."

"I..." He sighed, and looked away again. "I found out that... I'm not who I thought I was. That my parents weren't who I thought they were."

Cagalli blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I was... created, as part of an experiment," Kira said, voice slow and painful. "My real father was... a man named Ulen Hibiki, a colleague of Metzinger, the man responsible for Ken's birth. He... sought to create the Ultimate Coordinator, by using advanced genetic engineering techniques and an artificial womb, like the one Ken was born in." He clenched a fist, and swallowed a lump in his throat. "I used to have a lot of siblings... and they were sacrificed so that two subjects would be born. Even... even Ken's student, Tempest, was created just for that."

She shook her head in confusion, trying to understand what he was talking about. "Wait a minute, Kira. You're telling me that the people who raised you weren't your real parents? And that... you were used, like Ken was?" At his unwilling nod, she shook her head again. "But... Kira, I'm sure this is a shock, but why you should you worry so much about what happened before you were born?"

"Don't you get it?" he said despairingly. "I exist only because of some madman trying to 'perfect' humanity; and in the process, he killed dozens of unborn children... which makes me a murderer since before I was even born!"

Cagalli recoiled from the vehemence of his reaction. It must've been Le Creuset, she thought viciously. That bastard messed with Kira's head out there... Even if it's true, the only way it matters is the way Le Creuset used it. It shouldn't matter to Kira how he was born!

"Kira," she said slowly, pulling him into an embrace, "what happened before you were born isn't your fault. Youweren't the one who decided to do things like that; it was scientists like Metzinger and this Hibiki. You're not responsible for the sins of your father." She gave him a hard stare. "Or are you going to tell me that Athrun's responsible for what his father is doing with Ken's weapon?"

"That's-"

"That's different? No, Kira, it isn't; and blaming yourself for what your father did makes even less sense than Athrun blaming himself for his father's genocidal plans. Think about it, Kira," she said in exasperation. "What in the world do you think a fertilized egg can do to affect its own birth?"

Kira, though comforted by her touch, didn't meet her eyes. "I..." He sighed in defeat. "I... just don't know what to think right now..."

Cagalli's gaze softened. "I know, Kira. Learning that must've been a shock; and I'm betting that madman told it to you in the worst possible way. That'd be just like him..." She trailed off, as something he'd said earlier registered. "Wait a second. You said there were two test subjects. Who was the other? Ken?"

He shook his head, still avoiding her eyes. "No; I heard data from Ken was used in the process, but he came before, around the time of my older brother, somebody named Canard Pars." He hesitated as long as he could, before realizing he could delay no more. "The other survivor of the project was..."

"You, I'm afraid, Cagalli," another voice said.

Cagalli's head whipped around, to see Leanne Eldridge enter the compartment. "Leanne.. ?What are you talking about?"

The green-haired Demon smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Cagalli; the more so because I've known about it ever since we escaped Orb."

The younger woman blinked in confusion. "I don't understand. My father... You're saying I was involved in the Mendel experiments? But that's..."

"Impossible?" Leanne shook her head. "No, I'm afraid it isn't. Your father was exactly who you always thought he was, as was your mother; you're not in the same boat as Kira. Nor, in case you're wondering, are you related in any way. You share some genetic traits, but the difference in your family lines means that even those engineered into you aren't identical." She reached into a pocket of her uniform, and fished out the disc she'd received just before theArchangel launched from Kaguya. "This was given to me by Lord Uzumi, just before we took off; it contains data on your birth, Cagalli, along with a few other encrypted files. This disc's data is incomplete, and it seems even Lord Uzumi didn't have the decryption keys... but the Boss's sister had both the missing data and the keys. Together we filled in the gaps, and learned the truth."

"What truth?" Cagalli said, almost in a whisper.

"That you, like Kira, were removed from your mother's womb just after conception, and brought to term in a somewhat more advanced version of the artificial womb that produced the Boss." Leanne shrugged. "Exactly how your mother became involved in the project may never be entirely clear; your father left personal files on the disc, but was apparently reluctant to say exactly how it began. Shame, I suppose. Anyway, as near as we can determine, your mother -without Lord Uzumi's knowledge, at least at first- decided that the Orb royal line would benefit from genetic engineering. So, during a trip to the colonies -before Lord Uzumi knew she was pregnant- your mother sought a reputable -and discreet- geneticist to have you made into a Coordinator." She grimaced. "The geneticist she met was Doctor Ulen Hibiki, who was at the time working on a highly advanced project, which you know about now, involving his own son."

Cagalli remained silent for several moments, reassessing the knowledge based on the new revelation, and Kira took the opportunity to speak again. "Do you..." He cleared his throat. "Do you know who those embryos were? The dead ones we saw at GARM?"

Leanne shrugged again. "Genetically, they were nearly identical to you; though whether the variations were natural or due to the extreme genetic engineering, we may never know. At any rate, they were either direct clones of you, or a whole lot of donated embryos from your mother, Via Hibiki."

He swallowed. "Does that mean... I'm a clone? And if I am... will Le Creuset's fate be mine, too?"

"No," she said firmly. "You are not a clone; that always leaves genetic markers, and none of Metzinger's files -which Sophia recovered several years ago, including references to his work with Hibiki- say anything of the sort. Besides, it's our opinion the others weren't clones, either; Hibiki was trying to create the Ultimate Coordinator, whom he'd presumably have wanted to survive... and he would doubtless have remembered the lessons of Rau Le Creuset and Victor Tempest."

Kira nodded slowly. "But... what does it mean for us now?"

"It means nothing, Kira," Cagalli said sharply, speaking up again at last.

He blinked. "What, Cagalli?"

"I said it means nothing," she repeated firmly. "Who we are now is what matters; genetics govern only what we can do, not who we are inside. You're you, I'm me, that's all that matters."

"Cagalli..."

Leanne smiled slightly, looking for a moment like her commander and distant cousin Ken. "My, my; I always knew you were a self-confident one, Cagalli, but I see now that even my estimates of your strength of will were low. You sure you're not related to the Boss?"

The younger woman managed a small grin. "Who knows? Nobody can figure his genealogy out."

"Right. Well," the Demon murmured, turning to leave, "I'll just move along now, and leave you two alone. I expect you two could use a little privacy."

When the Gray Demon had gone, sealing the hatch behind her, Kira turned back to Cagalli. "Cagalli... are you sure you're okay with this?"

She rolled her eyes. "Kira, I'll admit I'm not happy that my father kept this from me for so long; and I don't like the idea of having been created for that kind of purpose any more than you do. But it's like Ken said, when he found out the truth about Metzinger: what matters is who we are today. We're in the middle of a war, you know; we don't have time to worry about what happened seventeen years ago."

He managed a small smile. "Yeah... I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Now shut up." Before Kira could get out another word, Cagalli leaned forward and kissed him.

Archangel, Cafeteria
"I just can't quite believe the Vesalius is gone," Athrun murmured. "After all the time I spent on her, it's... it's like a dream..."

"I know," an unusually subdued Yzak agreed. "I wasn't on her as much as you were, but I know what you mean. She was part of the old team, when we were still trying to take down the Archangel."

"Not much left of the team," Nicol, visiting from Asmodeus, added quietly. "Miguel, Rusty, Olor, and Matthew all died at Heliopolis; then Captain Zelman went down with the Gamow when we faced the Eighth Fleet. All that's left now are the four of us... and Commander Le Creuset."

"Le Creuset's days are numbered," Dearka said flatly. "I don't know if you saw Falcon when he got back, but I did. The last time I saw him with that expression, it was just after the Bloody Valentine." He sighed. "The commander deserves to have Falcon on his case, though. It's because of him that Vesalius and Captain Ades are gone..."

Athrun turned slightly. "You sure it was deliberate, Dearka?"

"Falcon is."

Yzak almost snorted, but then thought better of it. "I'd make a snide remark about your faith in DiFalco's infallibility, Dearka," he told Buster's pilot, "except that, as far as I can tell, he hasn't been wrong about anything since the blunder that got us all into this mess last year."

Nicol feigned astonishment. "You expressing faith in someone, Yzak? Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"Oh, shut up..." Shaking his head with something akin to amusement, Yzak looked out the nearby viewport. "Let me tell you something, though, Nicol: if I hadn't been sure of DiFalco's plans before, I would be now. Commander Le Creuset has to pay for what he's done... and he has to be stopped before he can hurt the PLANTs directly... or my mother."

Nicol nodded in understanding. "I know, Yzak; and I bet Dearka does, too."

Dearka smiled slightly. "Yeah; unlike Nicol here, my dad is still in the PLANTs..." He frowned suddenly. "Nicol, what about your mother? I never thought about it, but only your father came with..."

"She's fine," the younger pilot assured him. "She had to go into hiding, but some of the Commander's sleeper agents are taking care of her, in one of our smaller outposts in the PLANTs; I think it's in one of the agricultural colonies."

"A farmhouse, eh? The classic rural hideout..." Dearka shook his head. "I guess Falcon really does prepare for all contingencies, doesn't he?" He looked back over at Yzak. "You know, Yzak, if you want Le Creuset, you'll have to take a number; you'll be lucky to get anywhere near him before Falcon does something drastic."

Yzak snorted. "Think I don't know that? Believe me, Dearka, I've got no intention of getting between them; DiFalco's usually sane enough, but I'm not crazy enough to get anywhere near the kind of fight that's going to be. No, thank you. I'll settle for keeping everybody else busy."

"Agreed." Nicol glanced at his wrist, checking his watch. "Well, I'd better get back to Asmodeus; we're not expecting the Earth Forces to be back any time soon, but I need some sack time."

Yzak nodded. "Agreed. We gave 'em a drubbing, so I don't think they'll be back for a while... but you know it won't be long before DiFalco has us back in action."

Athrun yawned in agreement. "You're probably right, Yzak. I'm gonna visit the Eternal, I think, then get some rest myself. See you."

Within moments, three of the pilots had left, leaving Dearka to stand alone by one of the viewports, feeling pensive. Man... what a crazy couple of months these have been...

More like a crazy year, really. First his best friend had turned up missing, with the going theory being that he'd taken his CGUE to the remains of Junius Seven, then blown his own head off with his sidearm. Then Heliopolis had come around, and he'd learned the truth: that the Grimaldi Falcon had abandoned ZAFT, and had chosen to fight against everything he'd once stood for... or so it seemed.

After that had come the months-long chase of the so-called "legged ship", which took the Le Creuset team to Artemis, the Eighth Fleet, and even Earth itself, fighting through desert, ocean, and sky alike... until the fateful day Nicol Amalfi had been shot down and presumed killed.

Only two days later, Dearka had fought with Athrun and Yzak in one final bid to destroy the Archangel, only to be shot down themselves... and there Dearka had learned the truth of Nicol's fate, and been captured by his friend-turned-enemy, under threat from the menacing and lethal Preybird.

Three weeks as a prisoner of war had taught Dearka more about Naturals than the previous seventeen years, and it was then that he'd begun to understand why Falcon had taken his radical course... and why he was so determined to stop his former leader, Patrick Zala, from carrying out his plan. Then the Battle of Alaska, when he'd finally made his fateful choice to throw in with the brilliant, slightly unstable ace...

What a long road it's been... and a tragic one. But it's like Falcon realized, even before the rest of us: the only real choice was whether to stand by and watch the world go down in flames... or take action, and forever be labeled "traitor"...

"Dearka? You okay?"

Dearka glanced up from his thoughts, to see Mir entering, a concerned look on her face. "Oh, hi, Miriallia," he greeted. "Yeah, I'm okay... just thinking, that's all."

"About what?" She smiled. "And you can call me Mir, by the way."

"Uh, okay..." He nodded hesitantly, and turned back to the viewport. "I'm just remembering everything that's happened... all the lives that've been lost along the way. The Vesalius... she was part of the team, back when we were chasing you guys."

Mir nodded. "I know; Ken identified the ship back then, when we were escaping Heliopolis." She touched his shoulder. "It must be hard, knowing you have to fight ZAFT."

"It is," Dearka acknowledged. "But it's also the right thing to do. Unfortunately... knowing that I have to do it doesn't really make it any easier. I knew Captain Ades pretty well, and I had friends on that ship... friends who probably never understood what we're trying to accomplish."

She sighed. "Yeah, I can imagine. It's probably the same for the survivors of the Archangel's original crew, too; they didn't have quite the attachment to their homeland that you do, but they must still have friends in the Earth Forces."

"Probably," he agreed. "This is a side of war that they never talk about in stories; they never say what it's like to fight your friends because your conscience forces you to become a traitor to your own military."

"But you're not traitors to your country," Mir told him quietly. "It's like Ken said, the day we came aboard: you're fighting ZAFT, yes, but only because they've betrayed the PLANTs; you still fight for the same reasons as before."

"Yeah; but it's not much consolation, sometimes."

"I bet." Mir tilted her head. "But you know, I've been wondering... why did you decide to fight with us? It wasn't just what Ken said, I'm sure, and even self-preservation couldn't have been enough to sway a soldier; according to Ken, a soldier is supposed to put his mission before his life, after all."

Dearka shifted uncomfortably. "There's a lot of truth in that," he admitted. "The truth is... I wanted to make up for what I did, in the Marshal Islands. I fought because... because of Tolle's death."

She blinked. "Tolle's death...? But... we already established that you didn't do it, Dearka..."

"It was still partly my fault," he insisted. "If I'd been smart enough to understand what Falcon had been trying to tell me all along, I might've stopped the whole thing... Or if I'd been thinking just a little more clearly, not been blinded so much by the need to avenge Nicol's 'death'." He shrugged uneasily. "But even more than that, there's what I said to you in the Infirmary, at Alaska."

"I forgave you for that months ago, Dearka," Mir said, puzzled. "You couldn't have known; and it's not your fault the only Natural you'd ever spent much time around was Ken's sister, back when she was still a sarcastic pain in the neck."

"I know... but I still wanted to make up for it." Dearka finally looked at her again. "And now... Well, I figure protecting you is as good a reason as any to stick around."

She blinked. "...You mean that?"

He had the look of a man who'd said more than he'd really meant to, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah."

Mir smiled tentatively, and laid a hand on his arm. "Well... thanks."

And together, the pair watched the stars go by.

Archangel, Bridge, July 18th, C.E. 71
It had taken over a week for Ken to recover enough for even a short sojourn out of the Infirmary; and even now he'd have to return there within an hour or two at most. But he had chosen to risk it, because there were things that needed to be said.

On entering the Bridge, he first nodded to Murrue, then looked over at Flay. "My apologies for taking this long to mention it, Flay," he began, "but I have good news for you: your father has been avenged."

She blinked. "Huh?"

"That body Sparky recovered after the battle? That was Victor Tempest; he's the reason I don't have eyes at the moment, but it cost him his life."

"Um... are you sure they won't just bring him back again?"

He smiled thinly. "I don't think they've developed prosthetic heads yet, Flay."

She blinked again, and there was a general chuckle around the Bridge. Then Murrue broke in, more serious matters on her mind. "So, Ken," she began, "just what is so important that you had to leave the Infirmary?"

Ken shrugged, absently rubbing the bandage where his eyes used to be. "I suppose it's nothing much," he conceded. "But there are a few things I thought I should say."

"So how about you get on with it?" Sophia suggested dryly. "Before you drop dead on your feet, that is."

He would've rolled his eyes, if they'd still existed. "Right, right. Anyway," he said more seriously, "by now you all know what happened back there, within Mendel. Our greatest adversary is no longer Patrick Zala -who is at least somewhat restrained by his position as Supreme Council Chairman- but rather Rau Le Creuset. He's a mad clone of my biological father... and, like Patrick, he's out to create a situation where GENESIS can be fired." He lowered his head. "I take full responsibility for this situation; it was my hand that created the weapon, and my mind that created the plans that Rau is taking advantage of... just as it was my father who created Rau Le Creuset. Worse, the plan I've devised for stopping Rau's madness relies upon the very situation he seeks; in our scenario, the best we can do is stop the nuclear attacks and GENESIS after they've begun."

"It's not your fault, Ken," Kira said quietly. "None of us knew what Le Creuset was up to... and you had the best of intentions when you designed GENESIS."

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions," Ken said succinctly. "My intentions are irrelevant; what matters now are the consequences." He slowly turned his head, giving the Bridge crew the eerie impression that he was looking at them, despite his lack of eyes. "We have a hard road ahead; but we've now had a taste of it, thanks to the Second Fleet and Rau's vessels. Our group has faced combat as a single unit for the first time, and now we know we can accomplish the mission. But that was only a taste; now we move on to the operation phase of the Shiva Option. We're planning our first raid within the week." He nodded at Alicia Cateau, standing to one side of the Bridge, as quiet as always. "For this operation, since I'll clearly be in no condition to pilot for some time yet, Alicia here will be piloting Preybird. The objective should be reasonably simple, with her knowledge of Alliance procedures and bases, but we still need every edge we can get."

He paused, and Murrue took it as her cue to speak up. "Meanwhile," she began, "we've received word from our Junk Guild contacts that Rondo Ghina Sahaku has been killed in battle."

Mu whistled. "They got him, did they? How'd he buy it?"

"Apparently," she replied, "he had a run-in with Lowe Guele and Gai Murakumo, and they got tired of his interference. He tried to kill them, and they returned the favor... rather more successfully. This gives us two pieces of good news. First, we've got a potential thorn in our side neutralized; I have no doubt that he'd have sold us out to the Earth Forces the moment it became expedient. More interesting, though, is the fact that his death seems to have soured his sister on the idea of world domination."

Cagalli blinked. "I'd have thought that would take gene therapy to accomplish... or maybe an exorcism."

"Apparently not," Ken said dryly. "And that's good news for us... because Rondo Mina has informed us, through the Junk Guild, that she'll allow us access to Ame-no-Mihashira again, should we find ourselves in need of supplies or a temporary safe haven."

"That is good news," Kisaka said, from the Kusanagi. "Surprising, but welcome. They have a fully-equipped mobile suit factory, which will allow us easier access to spare parts."

"That was my thought," the ace agreed. "In the meantime, however, it's time to make our presence known to the Earth Forces... and ZAFT." He allowed himself another thin smile. "I guarantee they won't enjoy the experience."

"They say that there's a fine line between genius and insanity; I don't know, maybe that's true, because there's no doubt Ken's mind was severely affected by the things he went through in that war. My partner was there from the blockade in 69 that was the combat debut of the mobile suit all the way to the Second Battle of Jachin Due. He saw it all... and while another man might've come out of it unscathed, his genius was a little too fragile for that.

"The Bloody Valentine was the first blow, and the one that would eventually send him down the path toward GENESIS; then came Endymion, and the loss of over half his team. Then he led the battle of Nova... and was elevated to the position of ZAFT's top strategist, while at the same time creating a weapon he hoped would prevent another Bloody Valentine.

"Learning what his friend and commander in chief Patrick Zala really intended to do with GENESIS continued what the Bloody Valentine started, this time leading him to treason and an obsession that would carry him through the rest of the war. It set into motion one of the most complex and seemingly farfetched schemes of the war... and the weirdest thing is, it worked.

"After that, the months of planning and later fighting against ZAFT strained him... and then came the Battle of Orb, when nuclear missiles, the very weapon that took Junius Seven from him, were used once again to scorch Orb almost to the ground.

"Orb wounded him... and Mendel almost destroyed him. Though still fairly cheerful and open with his friends and comrades, Ken spent more and more of his time brooding, splitting his waking hours between his quarters on the Archangel and the Arkbird's war room, always planning the next raid, or going over GENESIS' blueprints, over and over, trying to find another weakness.

"Even with his eyes still regenerating, there was nothing wrong with his instincts; less than two weeks after Mendel, we took a fortress located at L3 away from the Earth Forces, leaving it abandoned but intact in case we needed a fallback point. Another raid took out an entire convoy, using only the Archangel and Preybird, piloted by Alicia Cateau; and before long, the Earth Forces had given Ken a new nickname: Butcher Bird.

"The downside to his increased determination was an increased tension between Ken and Kira; Ken never asked him to take part in any of the raids, since Kira was in fundamental disagreement with him over the exact conditions of the Shiva Option, but that didn't change things... and by the time of Jachin Due, they were barely speaking to each other.

"I guess, then, that what happened there was inevitable..."

-Cagalli Yula Athha, after the First Bloody Valentine War

Rogue Escort Ship Odin, Bridge, August 5th, C.E. 71
"These True ZAFT forces certainly have been busy," a blonde-haired young man in the uniform of an Earth Alliance senior-grade lieutenant murmured, reading a report on a computer clipboard; he sat in the captain's chair. "You think they've actually destroyed that fortress, the way the Earth Forces are claiming?"

The nearby admiral, occupying a chair similar to the one Azrael used on the Dominion -which made sense, since the two ship classes were very similar, including their internal layout- shook his head. "Unlikely. No doubt the Earth Forces believe they have, but I think it more likely True ZAFT simply moved it somewhere, perhaps using stealth technology of some sort to cover it. No, if the Grimaldi Falcon is still doing their strategic thinking -and these raids of theirs are classic Falcon- they're more likely to keep it around as a fallback position. Their Mendel operations didn't last very long, and, given the civilian population there, they seem to use Ame-no-Mihashira solely as a supply conduit."

"Makes sense," opined a bearded man in a flightsuit, smoking a cigar. "I never ran into the guy, either when he was with ZAFT or his stint in the Earth Forces, but he always did strike me as a clever kind of guy." He blew smoke into the air. "Besides, I do know his Alliance insider, Cateau; she'd know all about the inner workings of convoys and the new fortress. I doubt that idiot Azrael took that into account, given how gleeful he was supposed to be when she got 'captured'."

"Some say he's crazy," the captain mused. "On the face of it, I'd have to agree; I mean, taking on the entire military might of both sides, with just five ships?" He shook his head. "What do you think, Mad Dog?"

"Me?" The pilot smirked. "C'mon, Jason, think about it; if it were crazy, he wouldn't be pulling it off, now would he? Or didn't you notice that only three of their ships participated in the fortress operation?"

"I guess you've got a point," the captain conceded. "But there is a fine line between genius and madness; not to mention that even the Grimaldi Falcon makes mistakes. One of these days, he's going to miscalculate, and they'll get burned."

"True," the admiral murmured. "It would help, too, if we knew exactly what the man was aiming to carry out; then we could more effectively coordinate our efforts with his. On the other hand..." He tapped one of his displays, indicating a report he'd been reading. "According to the latest intercept, Castor Truman's about to try something fancy, which means our clever friend is about to find himself in deep trouble, unless he's developed ESP on top of everything else."

The captain looked up sharply. "They're initiating Dead Zone?"

"They are," the admiral confirmed. "Which means it's time for us to execute Zantetsuken. Are we ready for that, Captain?"

"We are." The younger man looked forward. "Helm, get us moving; we execute Zantetsuken in thirty-six hours."

Lagrange Point 1, Archangel, Bridge, August 7th, C.E. 71
"A convoy's here, all right," Natarle murmured, from CIC. "Looks like you called it right, Commander."

Beside the captain's chair, Ken nodded slightly. "So it would seem; but it was more Alicia's doing than mine. She's the one with the more up to date knowledge of Alliance procedures."

As had become standard operating procedure, only the Archangel had come to this place; early on they'd established that the one ship and her complement of mobile suits were enough to take care of a single convoy. Of the other four, Arkbird was traveling to the dark side of the moon, to complete repairs while simultaneously scoping out the remains of the Eyrie; with her was Asmodeus, flying cover. The Archangel-class vessel had repaired the damage she'd suffered at Mendel, but Arkbird had been worse off, and still had yet to make good all the damage.

Eternal and Kusanagi, on the other hand, remained a discrete distance out from the expected battle zone; within range to respond to a request for assistance from the Archangel, yet also far enough away to escape notice in the meantime.

The Archangel herself was currently preparing for combat; though her mobile suit complement was formidable, it was often the ship's own weaponry that made the difference in commerce raiding operations... especially considering that the Freedom was never involved. Kira opposed the entire concept, but, since he had yet to come up with a better idea, the only thing he could -and did- do was refrain from participating himself.

Another disadvantage was the fact that Preybird, while directly involved in the operation, would not be at full efficiency. Alicia Cateau was a fine pilot, but she wasn't in Ken's league... and the ace himself was not yet ready to fly again. He'd attempted to force the issue, but Doctor Hibson had told him in no uncertain terms that, while he might feel ready for it, it would be most inadvisable to stress his body at this point.

Glancing at him sidelong, Murrue had to agree. Ken asserted that his lack of eyes wouldn't hamper him in the cockpit, and she believed him; but he had been shot three times at Mendel, resulting in the loss of his spleen, right kidney, and prosthetic lung. That had been made good, through transplants from Victor Tempest's corpse -unsurprisingly, under the circumstances, the dead clone's organs had been a successful match- and his heart had even been replaced by Erica Simmons with a newer model... but all that surgery had taken its toll, and Hibson refused to allow the ace to risk the stresses of combat until he was farther along on the road to recovery.

Not that it's mattered much, Murrue thought to herself. So far, the operational phase of the Shiva Option has been going exactly according to plan.

On the other hand, that's exactly why I'm worried about this...

"Don't worry," Ken said, as though sensing her thoughts. "This should be no different from the others."

"I agree that there's nothing to indicate anything different," she conceded, "but I've never liked hearing the words 'should be' in reference to planning. Besides, sooner or later the Earth Forces are going to guess correctly about where we'll strike next, and if that were to happen now, it wouldn't be pretty."

"True," he acknowledged. "But I actually suspect we have more to fear from ZAFT at this point; I haven't been able to figure out the purpose behind their more recent movements, and that concerns me."

Murrue raised an eyebrow. "Which? Their orbital forces, or the strange lack of activity on the surface?"

"Their space forces; the movements on planet I understand all too well." Ken's voice had turned grim. "As near as I can tell, they've pulled back to their major bases at Kaohsiung, Gibraltar, and Carpentaria, as though they're abandoning offensive operations altogether."

"Captain Cooper says SIGINT indicates they're consolidating in preparation for a strike against the Earth Forces' planet-based nuclear forces," Natarle pointed out. "Are you saying that's a bluff?"

"Not a bluff," he corrected. "A cover story, along the same lines as the threatened attack against Panama, before Operation Spit Break. No, while I have no doubt the nuclear threat is part of the reason for this, I think Patrick's realreason is that he's preparing a total withdraw from Earth's surface."

Murrue looked at him sharply. "Total withdrawal? Why? Unless..."

Ken nodded. "Exactly. I think Patrick knows as well as we do that this war's end game has begun, and that things will come to a head within the next month or two. He's preparing to bring ZAFT troops home... so as to minimize friendly-fire casualties when GENESIS is fired." His sightless gaze glared at the blue sphere visible out the viewports. "I doubt he actually cares if he loses his own troops to that, if it means taking out Earth, but he's as aware as I am of how much a of part perceptions play in war. If he plans to retain leadership of the PLANTs, he has to think of the public reaction to using GENESIS when there's still so many ZAFT troops in the line of fire."

"Good point."

"Coming up on the target point, Captain," Neumann called. "Right on schedule."

Murrue nodded. "Good. Jackie, what do we have here?"

"Standard convoy arrangement, Ma'am," Tonomura answered. "No medical ships, just standard supply vessels. Escort consists of... one Agamemnon-class, three Nelsons, and four Drakes. And..." He paused. "There seems to be something else out there, but I can't get a fix on it. It's probably a radar ghost, but it's like there's small satellites in a globular formation out here. I've never seen anything like it."

Ken frowned. "That escort seems larger than normal; maybe we've got something important on our hands." He idly rubbed the sword scar on his face. "As for the anomalous readings... I can't imagine what that might be. You're probably right about them being radar ghosts, Jackie; keep an eye on it, but concentrate on the known threats."

"Roger, Commander."

Murrue raised an eyebrow. "So, we go with it?"

"Yes." The ace reached down, and tapped her intercom panel. "All pilots, this is the Bridge; prepare for launch. Target has been confirmed."

"Roger that, Falcon," Mu responded. "By the Book, right?"

Ken smiled slightly. "I think so, yes; we're picking up some odd radar returns, but we don't think it's anything to worry about. And given the strength of the convoy escort, we may have just stumbled on something important."

"Got it. We're ready to go."

The circuit closed, and Murrue nodded at Neumann. "Take us in, Arnold. Natarle, sound Level One Battlestations."

"Yes, Captain."

Agamemnon-class Battleship John F. Kennedy, Bridge
"Incoming enemy confirmed, Admiral: one Archangel-class mobile assault ship, as expected. Launch decks open; probably preparing to deploy mobile suits."

Vice Admiral Castor Truman smiled. "Archangel-class, eh? Well, since two of the three ships of that line are operated by the same group, and we know the Dominion isn't here, I'm guessing that's True ZAFT." His smile became a grin. "Excellent; now we can finally put an end to the Butcher Bird."

Kennedy's fire-control officer turned in his chair. "Are you sure he'll fall for this, Admiral? I mean, this is the Butcher Bird we're talking about..."

Truman waved a hand. "Don't jump at shadows, Lieutenant. I'll be the first to admit that Ken DiFalco is a dangerous opponent; but he's by no means infallible. Endymion was nearly the end of him last year, and according to rumor he was nearly shot to death by his own former comrades at Mendel. Yes, he's a fiendishly good strategist, but remember: overestimating your opponent can be just as dangerous as underestimating him."

"Yes, sir. I'll remember that."

"Be sure you do." He looked over at his flag captain, Jeffrey Schwartz. "How are the preparations going, Jeff? Will we be ready by the time they enter the effective range?"

"It's ready now, Admiral," Schwartz replied. "Dead Zone can be initiated within fifteen seconds of the order being given."

Truman smiled again. "Good, Captain, very good. We'll give them another couple of minutes; I want their mobile suits in range of the effect, as well. Especially Preybird and that Eurasian unit they're using, the Hyperion. Light-wave barriers are a real pain." He frowned. "Oh, yes; and make sure the 'Shocker' is charged, as well."

"But that hasn't been combat-tested yet-" the fire-control officer protested.

"Now is as good a time as any, Lieutenant; and if it does work, we just might be able to take DiFalco's personal machine out of the equation entirely... which is worth any risk the weapon might pose."

"Archangel is launching mobile suits, Admiral," the detection officer reported. "Seven units detected; identified as four of the original G-weapons, one of the ZAFT nuclear-powered machines, the Hyperion... and the Preybird."

Truman nodded. "And no sign of the other ZAFT unit... just as in every other raid they've launched. I wonder why it stays out of it... not that it matters. Makes matter easier for us."

"Archangel's weapons powering up," another officer reported. "We're being targeted by radar and lidar; other ships reporting similar readings."

"We're being hailed by the Archangel, Admiral," the radio operator called.

Truman raised an eyebrow. "Are we, now? Put it through... and prepare to initiate Dead Zone on my mark."

Lagrange Point 1
Mu, being their second-most-experienced pilot, led the sortie, Athrun's Justice at his side. The Strike had been fully repaired following its encounter the previous month with Rau Le Creuset's GuAIZ, and he was reasonably confident in the outcome of this battle.

At least, as confident as he ever got. He was well aware that even his little brother was fallible; that was what had led to him leaving ZAFT in the first place.

"We're going in, Athrun," he called to the Justice. "You ready?"

Athrun nodded sharply. "Yeah. If they don't listen to the Captain's instructions, we go in and blow up the warships, then disable the cargo ships, right?"

"That's the plan."

There was a click over Mu's radio, and the voices of the respective ship commanders came over his speakers."Attention, Earth Forces warship Kennedy. This is Captain Murrue Ramius, True ZAFT Mobile Assault Ship Archangel. You are hereby instructed to cut your engines and shut down your weapons immediately."

The other voice was oddly casual, which set off warning bells in his mind. "Ramius, eh? Well, this is Vice Admiral Castor Truman, Earth Alliance Forces. Just what makes you think we're going to listen to the demands of pirates?"

"Two things, Admiral Truman," Murrue said coolly. "One: by now we've amply demonstrated what happens when our instructions are not carried out. Two: we are currently aiming sufficient firepower at you to convert your entire convoy to free-floating hydrogen." On the monitor, she tilted her head. "And we're not pirates; merely people trying to stop this war from reaching the genocide stage."

Truman snorted. "A little late, 'Captain' Ramius. The only way this war will end is when the PLANTs are destroyed."

"It's not going to happen," Ken cut in, from off-screen. "You're playing with fire, Truman, and you don't even realize it. You should know by now that the Revolution is already won; even with nuclear weapons you're only delaying the inevitable. Admiral Halberton recognized that, even if you don't."

"Halberton's dead," Truman said flatly, "so it doesn't really matter what he thought he recognized about the situation. He never did understand that drastic measures are often necessary in war."

"There's a difference between drastic measures and atrocities," Murrue shot back; the slur against her mentor's name had struck a nerve. "The Admiral understood that. If you don't, then it's clearer than ever that we made the right choice in leaving the Earth Forces."

"Treason is the coward's way out," Truman sneered. "You should've died at Alaska, Ramius, in the fire of the Cyclops; but we'll fix that error now."

Her eyes narrowed. "And how do you propose to do that, Admiral? You may have greater numbers, but we have the advantage in firepower; or do you have Dominion waiting the wings?"

"I don't need Dominion." He looked off-screen. "Captain Schwartz, initiate Dead Zone."

Mu tensed. Dead Zone? What is he talking about- He cursed viciously in terrible understanding, as his radio links scrambled into static, his targeting systems went down... and all except a spherical area of space around the convoy vanished into blackness.

He had no way of communicating with either the ship or the other mobile suits. And now neither Eternal norKusanagi could even tell what was going on, if he understood the blackness as well as he thought he did.

Archangel, Bridge
Despite still not having the use of his eyes, Ken could easily tell that something had just gone very wrong. "What happened?" he demanded. "Why did we lose communications?"

"I'm not sure," Flay responded, fingers flying over her console. "Some kind of interference-"

The ace snarled something vile under his breath, and pulled himself into CIC. He took a specially-configured earpiece from Sai's console and put it to his ear; no one else was exactly sure how it worked, but it evidently used audio signals to substitute for visual data. As far as anyone else could tell, it consisted only of strange harmonics, but Ken, having developed it during his engineer days, made sense of it with the ease of several weeks' practice.

Listening intently, he mentally berated himself for his complacency. "I screwed up," he muttered angrily. "Idiot, idiot, idiot..."

On the main monitor -one of the few systems that wasn't scrambled- Murrue could see the Earth Forces warships coming around... and the cargo ships were beginning to behave oddly, as well. "Natarle, I need some information now, please."

"Still analyzing the jamming," Natarle replied promptly, " but at least now we know what's odd about those cargo ships. They're Q-ships, Ma'am."

The Captain closed her eyes. Q-ships. I should've known. When you start commerce raiding in earnest, the enemy's logical response is warships built to look like cargo vessels... and we fell for it.

"Weapons on local control only, Captain," Pal reported. "Targeting systems offline- Incoming fire!"

The ship rocked as a burst from Kennedy's Gottfried's struck their port side, and Neumann hauled them around without waiting for orders.

Murrue nodded her approval. "Keep us moving, Arnold; whatever's going on here, the enemy doesn't seem affected by their own jamming. Romero, instruct the gunners to fire at their own discretion; I don't like it, but an integrated fire plan isn't going to work here. Try to concentrate your fire, but if you can't, fire anyway. We need to keep them busy."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"We're getting analysis of the jamming now, Captain," Sai called. "Those radar ghosts we detected earlier were apparently advanced electronic warfare devices; a sphere approximately ten kilometers in diameter has been cloaked by some kind of advanced Mirage Colloid, and the ships are broadcasting 'white noise' over the radio frequencies."

"What about targeting systems?" Ken queried, still listening to his own systems. "Jamming shouldn't affect that at all."

"Another variation of colloid technology, Falcon; particles spread throughout the battle area that, while not affecting the visual spectrum, deflect radar targeting, and attenuate lasers to the point of being unusable."

Natarle cursed. "And that cancels the idea of using laser communications to reestablish contact with our mobile suits."

Sai grimaced. "I'm afraid so, Ma'am."

Murrue glanced down at him. "Can we counter it?"

He shook his head. "Lieutenant Cateau might be able to, Ma'am, but I'm not familiar enough with late-generation Alliance ECM to attempt successful ECCM; whatever this is, you almost have to have specially-designed gear to counter it."

It felt like a ball of ice congealed in her stomach. "So all we can do is fire blind..."

Ken pulled off the earpiece, and returned to his position next to the command chair. "I'm sorry, Murrue," he said quietly.

Murrue shook her head. "It's not your fault, Ken. None of us expected this."

"Small comfort," he muttered.

She couldn't really disagree with him on that one.

Lagrange Point 1
It's amazing, Mu reflected, how fast a situation can go from under control to total disaster. If we make it out of this one, I'm going to strangle Falcon...

Of course, that presupposed that they survived in the first place. The Earth Forces ships were launching mobile suits now, and it was obvious that they were unaffected by the jamming. Strike Daggers, 105 Daggers, and... Oh, wonderful; they've mass-produced the Buster. Just what I needed to make this day complete...

Then he was among the enemy, and there was no more time to think. He'd brought the repaired Gunbarrel Striker for this mission, on the theory that it might be useful for precision strikes on the "cargo ships", but now it might be his salvation for another reason: unlike his rifle, the gunbarrels relied on his own sense of spatial awareness, not targeting systems.

Deploying the gunbarrels in a defensive spiral, Mu saw the Hyperion flash past, unleashing a burst from its submachine gun into a Strike Dagger. The target, pierced several times by green darts, erupted into fragments; but as it died, another machine swooped in and fired at Hyperion's left arm.

To Mu's surprise, the blast wasn't intercepted by the light-wave barrier; there was a brief flicker, but the emerald dart seemed to ignore it, getting through to melt a furrow in Hyperion's arm. The Dagger pilot's impetuousness cost him his life as the Buster came by, cleaving with its zweihander, but that didn't change the fact that something very wrong was going on.

The jamming must be affecting Sophia's defenses, he thought grimly. Hold on, Kestrel, I'm coming...

He was not a moment too soon. Sophia, after another burst form her weapon missed, had evidently decided melee weapons were the way to go in that mess, and had a beam knife in either hand... but one arm was damaged, and two of the Buster Daggers had descended on her like sharks smelling blood. Rifles in both hands, missile pods opening to fire deadly salvos at the gaps in Hyperion's phase-shift that the beams would undoubtedly open, they were like piranha waiting for a feast... until the Strike swooped in on them.

Mu wasn't in time to stop Hyperion's head from being engulfed by a blast of emerald fire, but he didn't permit the mass-produced artillery machines to fire again. All four gunbarrels tracked one of them, spitting emerald death and shattering armor like it didn't exist, while he ignited a beam saber and slashed at the other in a crescent of crimson fury.

Both exploded, and he moved the Strike into physical contact with Hyperion. "Kestrel, can you hear me?" he called, gambling that communications might function at such close range.

There was a moment of silence, before a static-distorted voice came through. "Barely... Mu," Sophia replied at last. "Thanks... but I think I'm out of the fight."

"Looks like," Mu agreed grimly. "With no head, you can't even target visually. Are you injured?"

"No; but I'm going to make those bastards pay the next time we meet." The anger -and helplessness- in her voice came through quite clearly. "For now, make 'em understand we're not happy, will ya?"

He nodded. "You bet, Kestrel. Now, get out of here." Giving the Hyperion a push back toward the Archangel, he turned, and dove toward the fight again.

In Preybird's cockpit, Alicia Cateau felt a mixture of helplessness and rage. Dead Zone, she thought bitterly. I always wondered what that was... now I get to find out the hard way. How lucky we are...

Wishing absently that she was capable of using the DRAGOON system, she threw Preybird into a spiral, firing ineffectual shots from the Talon beam rifles. Ken, she felt sure, could've hit something even under these conditions; but she wasn't even a Coordinator, let alone the one called Der Schreckick Eins. She was a good pilot in her own right, but not good enough to handle this situation.

I'd even use the satellite cannon if I could, she reflected, dodging a Buster Dagger's beam shots, and hang the collateral damage. But a laser transmission beam won't penetrate that cursed cloaking field... If only the Eternal and Kusanagi would hurry up and get here.

That the two ships were on their way, Cateau didn't doubt; they had to have noticed the sudden disappearance of the entire battle area, which would be quite an effective signal for help. Unless...

Unless the Alliance sent something after them to keep them busy, she thought grimly. Which would be entirely in keeping with the sort of trap Admiral Truman seems to have sprung on us. Which means we may be on our own after all; lovely thought.

Duel and Strike Rouge suddenly blazed past, swinging beam sabers and antiship swords; partners in indignation, Yzak and Cagalli were apparently determined to take as many of the enemy down with them as they could. Their piloting skills were keeping them alive so far, and wreaking havoc, but Cateau could tell they weren't unscathed; gashes were melted in both machines' armor, and the left shoulder piece of Duel's assault shroud had been blown away, taking his missile pod with it.

The Justice also went by, beam staff cleaving a Dagger in half... and then something on one of the Q-ships caught Cateau's eye. Some kind of cannon turning to track her... Wait, she thought, all of her attention suddenly focused on the peculiar weapon, that's-!

It fired, catching Preybird in a blue discharge that left electricity crackling over its surface... and all its lights dark.

Archangel, Bridge
I don't think I've ever felt quite this useless before, Murrue thought, as Archangel twisted in another sharp maneuver. In the time since the battle began -perhaps three minutes- the Archangel had already lost three missile tubes and one engine, and in return had managed to vaporize only a single Q-ship and one of the Nelsons. And all,she thought, because if we stop, we get shot, and if we keep moving, we can't hit anything...

"Hyperion is returning, Captain," Mir said tersely. "Main cameras were lost, and Sophia couldn't continue combat."

Murrue nodded tensely. "Understood. Can we tell what the status of our remaining machines is?"

"In this situation?" Natarle shook her head. "It's hard enough to keep track of us, with all this jamming going on. The other machine seem to still be in the fight, but-"

"Preybird is hit!" Sai interrupted. "Electromagnetic pulse confirmed; Preybird's main systems have been compromised!"

Ken spun toward him. "That's impossible. Preybird is shielded against EMP; even ZAFT's Gungnir weapons wouldn't affect it."

The blonde ECM specialist shrugged. "I think it was more focused than a Gungnir," he said, typing at his console. "It was a single, immensely strong burst of EMP; I don't think there's anything with sufficient shielding to defend against that." He looked up. "The good news is, I don't think it can fire two consecutive shots."

"Small comfort," the ace grunted. "We've been in this battle less than five minutes, and it's already going against us. I haven't been in a disaster like this since Endymion."

"Hit confirmed!" Pal called out. "We've gotten a direct hit on one of the Drakes, Captain!"

Murrue nodded sharply. "Excellent, Romero. Try and hit them again; the fewer enemies we have, the better chance we have of getting out of this alive."

"If we can," Sai offered, "I don't think they'll be able to pull this trick again. Given a little time, we can analyze the effect and develop countermeasures to compensate."

Natarle nodded. "He's right, Captain. We just have to hold out until we can evacuate the battle area."

"Presupposing we can," Murrue said darkly, seeing the Strike go by, three Daggers of assorted types chasing it. "Admiral Truman doesn't seem inclined toward mercy at this point."

Ken's sightless gaze glowered at the screen. "That doesn't surprise me. The Earth Forces, for all their faults, are-"

"Activity in the starboard catapult!" Mir said in surprise. "The Freedom is preparing to launch, Captain!"

Murrue looked at her in surprise. "The Freedom? But-"

Her right-hand intercom panel lit up. "I may not like these raiding operations, Murrue," Kira told her, face set, "but that doesn't mean I'm about to let us all die. Besides..." He smiled slightly. "If there were never any supply ships out there in the first place, then this isn't really a raid, now is it?"

"I guess not," she conceded. "Thank you, Kira."

"Don't act so surprised, will you? Like I said, I don't want us to die anymore than I want the enemy to. This goes beyond my problems with Falcon's tactics." He visibly gripped his controls tighter. "Freedom, launching!"

As Freedom leapt from the catapult, Murrue sighed in relief. "That's the last time I forget that just because Kira isn't involved in a battle, it doesn't mean he's not here. Now I think we may just have a chance at this."

"Yes..." Ken agreed quietly; but he wasn't quite as sanguine about the whole thing. He'd taken note of somethingelse Kira had said... or rather, the way he'd said it. I told him months ago he could use my name... If he's back to calling me "Falcon", I don't think it's a coincidence... or a good sign.

Lagrange Point 1
It's amazing how much damage can be taken in a battle only a few minutes old, Mu thought, thrusting recklessly through a veritable hurricane of energy fire and CIWS bursts. He'd lost one of his gunbarrels already, and the targeting problems -which his enemy didn't share- were making it almost impossible to hit anything.

Lack of communications wasn't helping, either. Under other circumstances, even with the targeting difficulties, proper coordination with the other pilots could well salvage the battle... but with the radio jamming, it was impossible to talk to anyone.

Duel and Strike Rouge seemed to be doing relatively well, under the circumstances; as near as Mu could tell, Yzak and Cagalli were communicating through ESP or something, but it worked. They'd taken the least damage of any of them, aside from Duel's lost missile pod. Even as he sped toward his own chosen target -a 105 Dagger- he could see Duel grab a Buster Dagger, and throw it into one of Strike Rouge's antiship swords.

As if to counter that victory, though, Buster literally blazed through his field of view, trailing fire from two of its thruster units. A 105 Dagger equipped with a Launcher Striker pack was chasing it, and Mu could see the Agni hyper-impulse cannon begin to glow-

A torrent of plasma fire literally melted the Agni's barrel off, while two hypervelocity railgun projectiles ripped into the Dagger's right arm and head, tearing them off and leaving bare wires sparking into the void. A black, blue, and white mobile suit flashed across space, and beams erupted from its guns.

ZGMF-X10A Freedom had arrived.

Kennedy, Bridge
Truman clenched a fist, staring in mixed shock and rage at the newcomer. "The Freedom," he hissed. "I should've known that bastard would stick his nose in. But how is he doing that?"

The Freedom seemed to be completely ignoring the Dead Zone effect; plasma streams, laser beams, and railgun projectiles tore across space with inhuman precision, blasting guns, arms, heads, and even legs off Earth Forces mobile suits.

The admiral swallowed a curse when one of the shots almost casually blew the Shocker EMP cannon off the Q-ship carrying it. And it was the only one of the things we had, he thought bitterly. How can one mobile suit change the tide of battle this way?

"It's not over yet, Admiral," Schwartz said quietly. "We can still get the Archangel before we're forced to withdraw."

Truman took a deep, calming breath. "Yes. Yes, you're right, Jeff; thank you." He raised his voice. "All ships, target all remaining weapons on-"

A torrent of antimatter fury annihilated the rest of what he'd been about to say, as well as one of the remaining Nelsons.

Schwartz sat bolt upright in his chair. "Lieutenant Sheffield!" he barked. "Where did that come from?"

The detection officer was typing commands so fast his fingers looked like a centipede on speed, and his eyes were wide with surprise. "I don't know, Sir; there seems to be another ship coming in, but-"

Through the curtain of the Dead Zone's cloak came the new ship, firing Lohengrin and Gottfrieds with almost wild abandon. Looking like a one-legged Archangel, it swooped down upon the unsuspecting ships, targeting with precision unhampered by Dead Zone jamming. Beams licked out like the fiery sword of an avenging angel, and Q-ships shriveled like moths in a flame. The sheer unexpectedness of the attack ensured its success... and now the vessel swung toward the proper warships.

Truman cursed viciously. "The Odin," he whispered, enraged. "So she is rogue. But who-?"

A moment later, his question was answered, for the main monitor lit up with a visual transmission from the attacking vessel. "Hello, Castor," the admiral on the screen said pleasantly. "It's been awhile."

All over the Bridge, jaws dropped, and Truman shot to his feet in sheer shock. "Impossible," he breathed. "Impossible! You-!"

"Died?" The other admiral smiled. "Sorry, Castor; I know it must be a terrible disappointment. Unfortunately, I had things that still needed to be taken care of."

"You're actually siding with the Archangel," Truman said hoarsely. "You bastard-"

"You always were an idiot, Castor; if it took you this long to figure out our intentions, that merely reconfirms my belief." The admiral smiled again. "Goodbye, Castor. I'd say that we'll meet again someday, except that I think that's rather unlikely."

The Odin filled the viewports, and her weapons began to glow...

Archangel, Bridge
There was utter silence on the Bridge for several moments. The past ten minutes had been a roller coaster, emotionally; first, confidence in the routine nature of the mission, then surprise and consternation at the revelation of the trap, worry and fear when the odds became clear... and now numbing relief. First Kira's entry into the battle effectively ended the mobile suit threat... and then something else had arrived.

"I give up," Sophia said faintly, having arrived on the Bridge only moments before. "What in the world just happened? Who...?"

"I recognize the ship," Murrue said, almost mechanically, "or at least the class. That's one of the Odin-class escort ships intended to serve with the Archangel; from the looks of her, I'd say she's the Odin herself."

Natarle nodded. "That's right; they were constructing her one berth over from the Archangel, weren't they? Back at Heliopolis, I mean."

Ken turned his head. "There was more to the project than what I hacked out of the database? I only knew of the Archangel and the G-weapons."

"The class was originally intended as a cheaper version of the Archangel," Murrue informed him, still staring out the viewports, "but in the end, the Powers That Be apparently decided she'd do better as an escort for the Archangel herself. I just never realized the ship got away from Heliopolis..."

"We're receiving a transmission from the ship, Captain," Flay said, sounding just as stunned. "She identifies herself as the Odin, and the captain would like to speak with you."

Murrue nodded jerkily. "By all means, Flay, let's see who we're dealing with."

A moment later, a blonde-haired, gray-eyed man in his mid-twenties appeared on the main screen. He wore the uniform of a lieutenant, but the fact that he was occupying the Odin's command chair indicated the vessel's chain of command had broken down over the months since Heliopolis.

"Greetings, Archangel," the man began. "This is the Escort Ship Odin; I hope our arrival, while doubtless unexpected, was not... unwelcome."

"No, not at all," Murrue assured him. "Ahem; I'm Captain Murrue Ramius, commanding the True ZAFT Ship Archangel. You would be...?"

"Oh, sorry." The lieutenant smiled. "I'm Lieutenant Senior Grade-"

"Jason Chance," Natarle said in disbelief, coming out of CIC.

Chance looked at her, and his own eyebrows elevated. "Natarle Badgiruel? Good to see you're still alive; but I didn't know you were with the Archangel."

"Fair's fair," she said faintly. "I didn't know you were assigned to the Odin."

Murrue looked at her curiously. "You know the man, Natarle?"

Natarle nodded. "Yes, Cap- Murrue. Jason and I went to the Academy together, a few years ago; we graduated in the same class."

"And haven't seen each other since," Chance confirmed. "I'll, ah, want to talk to you some more later, Natarle. But right now, I believe the Admiral would like a word with your captain... and with Commander DiFalco, assuming he's still alive."

"Right here," Ken said, head cocked. "'The Admiral'?"

The camera's focus shifted... and Murrue inhaled in shock. It... it can't be...!

Ken heard her gasp, but -lacking sight- didn't understand what had her so surprised... until the man finally spoke.

"It's good to see you two again," he began. "I realize my appearance must be something of a surprise, but, as a certain pilot once said, there is only one ultimate rule in war." Rear Admiral Lewis Halberton smiled. "Survive."

Author's note: The Battle of Mendel is over, and True ZAFT's Shiva Option has truly begun. Battles have been won, and progress made; and though their first defeat was nearly at hand, victory was snatched from the jaws of defeat by one pilot overcoming his distaste for the Grimaldi Falcon's methods... and the unexpected return of a man thought dead. How did Lewis Halberton survive, and what has he been doing in the months since the destruction of the Menelaos?

Yes, I'm well aware this chapter is late; but, as you can probably tell, that's more because of its sheer length than anything else. This is one that I've been looking forward to for awhile now, but it turned out there was a lot more to cram into than I thought. In any case, I trust the length -and the twist- at least partially make up for the delay.

I don't see much else to say at this point; my next update may be slightly late as well -I'm going to be switching computers soon, which may cause some chaos with my schedule- but it shouldn't be too much of a delay. In the meantime, let me know how this one was. -Solid Shark