Chapter 12

CE 72, October 21st, Kaohsiung Spaceport and Commerce Centre, Taiwan, Republic of East Asia

Sheryl could feel her heart beating.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

With every second that passed, the debris fell closer towards the streets, closer to where the child had fallen down. With every second that passed, Sheryl pushed the joint actuators on her Strike Dagger towards their maximum operational limits, the mobile suit straining its mechanical frame to cross the distance of a street junction in a mere three seconds. A memory threatened to overwhelm her vision; her younger brother, running after a ball and in the path of a cargo truck as came down the hill, its old and rusted brakes unable to keep it secured, and the only blood sibling she would know disappearing underneath its thick tires. Her arm reached out for where her brother once stood, her scream of anguish at being too far away to pull him back as loud in her memory as it was on that day.

The debris, a chunk of concrete big enough to crush a medium truck, continued to tumble through the air, the grim present of a terrorist attack on a skyscraper in Kaohsiung. Delegates from Copernicus had arrived hours earlier for an economic conference between the lunar nation-state and the Republic of East Asia, and some of them were, naturally, Coordinators.

Terrorists never played targets; to them, every man, woman, and child were all targets of equal opportunity. Otherwise, they wouldn't be labelled as terrorists.

Two seconds. A shrill alarm erupted in the cockpit of the Strike Dagger as it leapt through a cross junction; a sniper shot, the projectile courtesy of one of the three insurgent GINNS attacking the city, narrowly missed the left knee joint of the Strike Dagger, ricocheting off a building to spear through a dozen or so parked cars on the street.

Sheryl saw the child turn upwards to face his imminent death. The child instinctively put his hands over his heads and huddled back onto the road. Sheryl felt rather than heard the scream coming from the back of her throat as she willed the Strike Dagger to move faster, all the while flipping switches, purging anything that could be pried off the Strike Dagger. Shield, beam rifle, beam sabre. She reached for the emergency exterior armour purge switches.

One second. She heard her squad leader shout for her to return to formation, heard the scream of her wingman as he got taken down by one of the insurgent mobile suits. At the time of the attack, their squad had been doing routine checks and were the most sortie-capable, and had been sent in to deal with the insurgents. Reinforcements were en route in five minutes time from Kaohsiung Base, but with the current timeframe they might as well have taken an eternity.

Sheryl didn't care for any of that, however. For her, the choice was crystal-clear. The child came first, because there was no way that she could put her sniping skills to use in the tight quarters of Kaohsiung without being as bad as the terrorists herself.

The scream of tearing metal erupted through the cockpit as a steel dart smashed through the left side of her Strike Dagger, ripping through its shoulder joint and threatening to throw the machine off-course. Modern anti-armour munitions, having evolved from the sabot rounds of older days, used a "piercer round", a high-resilience dart wrapped in a stabilizing device; once fired, the device was discarded, and the dart made short work of anything it would end up hitting. Linear tanks were equipped with finned piercer rounds, while GINN Recon sniper rifles had auto-correcting rounds to ensure the weapon's accuracy. Different militaries and different companies made them, but the principles on which the round worked on was still the same; defeat armour, destroy the target's inner components.

The Strike Dagger stumbled, its main internal balancer damaged, and Sheryl, in a last desperate move, fired the thrusters on her Strike Dagger. The machine flew forward even as it tipped towards the ground, and the mobile suit managed to slot itself in-between the concrete slab and the child at the last moment, crashing to the ground, propped up over the shivering child with its remaining good arm, just as the concrete slab came crashing down, accompanied by a shower of debris both large and small.

When the dust cleared, the Strike Dagger had withstood the blow, barely; the child was dusty and scraped, but still alive enough to cry out for help and his mother, who came running followed by the half-dozen or so paramedics who had to hold her back until they were sure it was safe. For the child, he had survived death, and would live to see tomorrow, at the very least.

For Sheryl however, her impulse would lead her to a court martial. The terrorists had escaped with the deaths of three Copernicus representatives, and her squadmates were dead. There was no excuse they would allow her to use.

She was bitter and angry; whether at herself for her lack of power, the blatant act of terrorism, or the people who were looking for a scapegoat, she couldn't say at that time. More importantly, she wanted to get her hands on the terrorists that had orchestrated the entire event; running out of the city, and, in her anger-filled imagination as she sat in Kaohsiung Base's detention barracks, cackling and belting out anti-Natural slurs.

After months of post-jumping around administrative bases, when the offer to ship to frontline Sinai came, Sheryl jumped at the chance.

CE 73, November 24th, OMNI EUROCOM Mannheim Base, formerly Viernheimer Heide Nature Park/Reserve, Germany, Central Europe

Evening 19 05

Kaguya was silent as Ray finished his tale, the two seated at the side of the mat that covered the flooring of the practice room. "And that's the life story of the Manhunters' designated marksman, or markswoman, if you'd prefer," he said as he stood up, rubbing one of many sore spots on his hip. The two had practiced their close-combat skills as Ray had, in-between rests, explained Sheryl's tale; basic movements, blocks, and others. Ray did not know if it translated well to MS combat, but that was how things were taught, even in his previous posting at Nova Scotia's training facilities.

Still, Kaguya's skill was well beyond what even Ray, a former MS advanced control instructor, or even OMNI in general, taught at its officer academies for mobile suit combat. Apart from his hip, many other bruises adorned his body; the training body armour Ray wore seemed to have offered nothing but to slow him down further; as if he needed that disadvantage. Even with one left arm, with her right held facing away from her opponent on occasion to avoid straining her recovery, Kaguya had been terrifyingly fast with her strikes, her sword thrusts faster than his, and her swings packing the power of a knockdown blow when (not if) it connected with his body.

"She was bitter when she first came here, just three days after my own arrival," Ray continued as he moved to the side of the room to set aside the practice equipment; Ray silently admitted that Kaguya had done well in getting him to talk. When soldiers began to share their past experiences with each other, there was no stopping them until both sides had run dry or were interrupted.

Beside him, Kaguya did the same, already out of her own protective gear when he had just begun to work on his own. "She snapped at anyone who looked at her the wrong way, and she really didn't like Aaqil and Navana. It may be crude of me to say this now, but considering the ethnicity of Sinai Base's opponents in that day and age, I wasn't surprised. Day in and out, she would be loitering around Lieutenant Colonel Rahabinod's office whenever there was time, waiting for a chance to take up a mission to hunt down terrorists."

Kaguya tilted her head to the side, glancing at Ray. "Aaqil and Navana?"

Ray was silent for a moment before he caught on. "I don't suppose you've had time to meet them before Sinai Base got canned; they used to be the other squad stationed there, the two-man Howling Spears Squadron from OMNI Africa's Twenty-Third Division." He stretched his body, feeling each and every bruise on his body. "Both are African natives, and Aaqil is a devout Muslim, or as devout as one could be if one needed to earn bread for his family even if it meant working for a West-aligned organization."

"So Sheryl jumped at everyone who had a different skin colour or gene print pattern on their identification cards back then," Kaguya said.

"Pretty much," Ray replied. "It got bad enough that I considered putting in a request for Rahabinod to transfer her somewhere else, maybe to OMNI ALANTICOM HQ, but then…" Ray's voice trailed off. "It took a while, but she managed to break the hold that her rage had on her, and what you see today is the Sheryl that I'm familiar with."

"I see," Kaguya said. "But why does she not agree with you shouldering all the blame? Her actions thus far have no indication that she suffered from excessive guilt."

"She did," Ray replied. "At her lowest point, she did. Her old team had been a two-year assignment, and that was supposed to be their last month as a squad."

The silence hung in the air for a while before Kaguya spoke again. "And now the roles have turned a full hundred-eighty," she probed.

Ray remained silent. "I have a role of responsibility," He finally replied flatly. "If I don't remember my own mistakes, no one else will remember them for me."

Kaguya was quiet for a while. "Yes, that is true. But it is also true that we have shouldered far more than is our share of the work. Especially given the tools that we are working with."

Ray gave a short laugh. "I do suppose you're right. What's done is done, eh?"

"Yeah." Kaguya said. "So I hope you'll drop those new stratagems you've been designing for the team formations."

Ray turned around to look at Kaguya. "How did you k-"

"Guy saw them first this afternoon on the mobile touchpad you have in your Dagger L," Kaguya said, fixing her gaze against Ray's. It was a little trait that she liked to do, and Ray felt himself burn away mentally under the unnaturally calm stare. "It's one thing to keep a gunner or sniper back, but to keep the team's melee specialist anywhere but further out front than you is a bad move, sir. My talents are yours to command, and I can only use them if you place them where they are."

Ray remained silent and turned to face the setting sun shining through the window, and Kaguya pressed on. "Even if I were to rest my complaints, there's Guy and Sheryl. Your new team formation involves having Sheryl hang back and Guy being her glorified guard. There's no meaning to that."

"We need the sniper to stay safe," Ray replied. "It's a logical course of action."

"Not according to your previous strategies," Kaguya said. "The Manhunters are a four-man squad, previously two-man; we have to be as flexible as possible, and all our previous fights have reflected that. If we follow through with the new formations, the only one on the front will be you, and no enemy will be fool enough to concentrate on a jack-of-all-trades unit when they can see a close-quarters MS, a sniper MS and a bombardment MS hanging to the back. Or they might even swarm all over you first."

Seeing no response from Ray, she decided to press on. "I know you have a bad reputation to break, sir; the assault against the terrorist base was the first major assault that revealed an enemy that, for once, proved to be of equal or better standing than us. We might have to clash in full-scale combat at some point in time, not surgical strikes against small groups of men, be they ZAFT squads or lone insurgent groups. But this definitely isn't the way to do it."

Ray remained motionless, and Kaguya took the chance to press her point. "And, well..." Kaguya said. "You're just working way too hard, you know? Veterans don't force themselves. They learn to go with the blow, roll with it..."

"... and come back up ready to punch." Ray said, finishing the quote for her. "Never expected someone to pull a movie quote on me. Last year's blockbuster, was it?"

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Kaguya said.

Ray held up both hands, a smile breaking out on his face. "Alright, alright. Besides, those were just drafts. After hearing your thoughts, I suppose that if I were to strive to be a good commander, I should probably find some time to go get Guy's and Sheryl's opinions before I waste my time making something that none of us are going to even think of using, right?"

CE 73, November 25th, OMNI EUROCOM Mannheim Base, formerly Viernheimer Heide Nature Park/Reserve, Germany, Central Europe

Evening 15 26

Esther Granmark walked down the pathway that led to Mannheim Base's administrative building and main command centre, the low click of her boots on the concrete a sharp sound that served to bolster the aura of authority that she carried with herself. There was a strategy meeting due in four minutes' time, and it would be regarding news of ZAFT forces creeping closer from Eastern Europe, slowly but inexorably getting closer to Germany.

As she entered the meeting room, the people seated at the table turned to greet her. She heaved a mental sigh of relief at spotting Rolan in his seat; her wingman was an excellent pilot in his own right, but he was a bit too lax in his own discipline to be a good soldier. She didn't want to have to find and drag him here on a cold evening.

Her gaze continued travelling, and she stopped at each of the pilots seated at the table. Benjamin Sorbough, callsign Blizzard Three, already had pen and notepad in hand, ready for the meeting. Karl Sterung, callsign Blizzard Four, was as usual discussing a tactical movement with Caleria Vayer, callsign Blizzard Five; both had used a piece of paper to illustrate their points, and to a layman it was like looking at a crisscrossing of lines and circles, garnished with an eye-boggling number of chicken scratches all over. Still, she had no reason to doubt her subordinates; they had proven themselves more than capable on every live deployment.

"Evening, ma'am," Benjamin said, standing up to snap off a salute.

"At ease, Sorbough," Esther said as she took her seat. Opposite hers was the place reserved for the Manhunters' leader, and Ray Feric was already in his own seat, a neutral look on his face, but with a gaze that nonetheless made it quite clear he didn't feel anywhere like talking tonight. To his left, Sheryl, Guy and Kaguya had taken their places as well, and Esther looked over all of them. Sheryl Camelot was an easy person to read, her sidelong glare in return almost being too obvious, but Guy Leon… Esther wasn't sure she could accurately judge the man just by looking at him, and trying to figure out the expression that Kaguya wore was like trying to figure out how a potted plant felt about the latest world events.

All those thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind as two men entered the meeting room; Roan Moran, OMNI EUROCOM Colonel and the ranking commander of Mannheim Base, and his second-in-command, Major Wallace Edwards Isenberg. The lack of the other commanders of the tank and fighter forces in this meeting was something Esther had noticed, but it wasn't urgent enough to warrant an immediate query.

Esther rose to salute Roan. "Evening, sir."

"As you were, Captain, everyone," Roan replied, as he made his way towards the projector screen at the front of the room. "I apologize for this late meeting, but the news we've just received has the possibility to turn into a serious conflagration in due time, so I'll make this brief, and you can spend the next few days to think this through, and organize your own teams to better combat the encroaching threat. The other force commanders will be attending a different meeting tomorrow, for different purposes."

As the former commander of the previous war's Operation 8.8 arranged his notes, Wallace worked the computer unit, and the screen at the front of the room flashed to life to display a tactical map of the entire European continent. Green lines tipped with arrows arced out from where OMNI EUROCOM had their military bases to meet red ones arcing in from the edge or outside the map, a diagram of all their currently deployed forces and the enemy movement that they had encountered or had stalemated against. Esther noticed that two of the largest red arrows came from where ZAFT's Gibraltar and Diocuia bases were located; one proceeding northward from the southernmost end of Spain and stopping just short of the Saragossa Defence Line's killzone, the other steadily closing in from south-eastern Europe, originating from the north shores of the Black Sea region.

"As of 25th November at seventeen hundred hours, EUROCOM issued a new directive for all European OMNI and Eurasian Federation bases to be on moderate alert," Wallace said. "We've just received intel from recon units that ZAFT is preparing to move into the heart of the Eurasian Federation; their lines blockading EUROCOM at Geneva is as solid as ever, and there have been sightings of ZAFT fast-attack squadrons moving very close to allied lines."

"It's still unconfirmed, but there've been reports of attacks on military supply depots and patrol groups on our southern states; some of, which you all probably know by now, no longer belong behind EUROCOM lines," Roan said. He flipped open a portion of the table at his side and pressed a few keys on the screen's control panel hidden underneath; images of ZAFT mobile suits appeared on the screen in a grim slideshow, some grainy, others in clearer resolution, perhaps taken by more fortunate recon teams that didn't get caught. Esther noted, with a grim feeling, that the earlier images of combat in Turkey and Georgia, nations that had all but proclaimed their intention to secede from the Eurasian Federation in this conflict, had given way to more recent photos in Bulgaria, Romania, and central Ukraine; nations that, as far as she knew, were still equally divided on whether to follow the Eurasian Federation, or strike up an alliance with the PLANTs.

"Mannheim Base isn't a major installation, but we do house the Twelfth, Nineteenth and Twenty-Sixth Air Divisions covering a great part of the south of Germany, and the Fourth, Sixth and Ninth Tank Battalions are stationed here, and that is not taking into account our support forces." Roan continued. "We might not have a lot of mobile suits, but we do have a lot of conventional firepower, enough to null any advantages anything short of a full-scale ZAFT assault might have should our full force be transferred towards the front."

"That would mean that we might have to prepare for a full-scale assault towards the Black Sea, sir?" Kaguya asked.

"A likely possibility," Roan said. "The other possibility is that we deploy to defend other areas."

"Both would likely bring us into contact with forces from ZAFT forces from Diocuia," Wallace said. He keyed in another set of controls, and images of ZAFT's Minerva -class warship, as well as the mobile suits that it carried, appeared into view. "It's unconfirmed, but if ZAFT deploys their newest weapons as the tip of their spear, then Mannheim Base might well become the first line of defence against that before this year even ends."

"It would not be an easy job," Karl said, "If rumours of the Impulse during the clash at the edge of Orb's territorial waters and at the Lohengrin Gates are any indication. Initial analysis of the unit's combat capabilities places it at a 447% advantage against a Block 5 Windam currently being distributed to bolster those from the initial production batches, and a 145% advantage against the Hyperion G we have now."

"Numbers are just numbers, Karl," Rolan said. "In the heat of combat, there's very little that can be accurately planned for."

"Lieutenant Sterung is not without a point," Roan said. "Indeed, the Impulse is formidable, and if reports are to be trusted, the Minerva did receive new mobile suits at Diocuia. Currently they're circling around Diocuia and the general area around Greece, but the warship is fast; it wouldn't take it more than two days to reach the Atlantic via Gibraltar. We're well within their reach in far less than a week's time."

Ray watched as the people around him pondered the possibilities of a ZAFT attack, one that aimed to flatten Mannheim instead of the take-and-hold approach they used on permanent installations nowadays. To say it would be a difficult fight would be the understatement of the year, and Ray felt that thought, as clearly as he felt the cold metal touch of the data unit that he had clipped on with his dog tags since they day Nain had left him that gift in Sinai.

With everything that went on recently, Ray had not much time to focus on his actions on how to deal with the data. But as Roan spoke, as the poor-quality images and guesswork reports on the Minerva and Impulse displayed themselves on the screen, Nain's order's had come back to the fore of his mind; get the data unit to a trusted place, and get it to safety. The data contained within, top-secret first-hand accounts about ZAFT's strongest that the Lohengrin Gate could not transmit out via wireless communication even in its death throes, would be able to save the lives of many soldiers if implemented correctly.

Ray, however, had no way of knowing if Mannheim wasn't already under the thumb of Blue Cosmos. If the Atlantic Federation got the data first, assuming that they hadn't already forced out whatever Nain knew, then surely they would use it to create stronger mobile suits, and implement stronger and more oppressive measures on the people. Not just in the Atlantic Federation, but across the whole world.

Ray forced his thoughts back to the meeting as all gathered racked their brains for a way to survive a full-blown ZAFT attack. Now was not the time yet. The Minerva's destination and goals were still not clear. The revelation of the data could wait.

CE 73, November 26th, OMNI EUROCOM Mannheim Base, Germany, Central Europe

Morning 09 33

The sun shone down brightly, a vague reminder of the passing storm from the morning as Ray walked towards the hangar where his team's mobile suits were stored. The repairs for his unit were largely over, and he wanted to take the time to look through all of their new components to ensure that the units were functioning properly; fine-tuning could then be done at the team's leisure. Mannheim was a Eurasian-funded OMNI base; unlike the Atlantic Federation, the other branches of OMNI and its allies often had to make do with older components, and that caused problems for Atlantic-funded OMNI forces when they had to make repairs.

"Still working on the damage, Thomas?" Ray asked as he entered the cavernous hangar, the four Dagger Ls standing silently in their berths. At the foot of Guy's Launcher Dagger, the mechanic had been hauling a fuel pipe away, assisted by some technicians.

"Just started today's shift, but there's nothing to do for now, sir," Thomas replied, turning to face Ray as the two technicians behind him started up the fuel truck and drove it out to someplace else where it would be needed. The roar of the heavy vehicle's engines faded off into the afternoon air as it rounded past the hangar's exit for maintenance vehicles, creating a large splash from a nearby puddle. "We've managed to get the spare parts to sync; all that remains is the adjustments to each. We got some help from Mannheim's crew, too, so we finished the major repairs for all four units earlier than expected."

"That's good to hear," Ray said. "By the way, I'll need a list of the components used in the repairs… I want to go over them myself."

Thomas handed over the data pad. "It's all in here, sir, but the list is quite long."

"Thanks," Ray said as he took the electronic device. "It's not like we're slated for deployment anyways. Might as well get to doing something."

As Ray walked out of the hangar, however, his mind wasn't on the list of machinery parts scrolling over the screen; the Mannheim Base briefing from a few days ago, and the data that Nain had entrusted him with earlier, were at the forefront of his mind.

Ray knew he could not keep the data forever; for him, it would be useless, and if he was found out, especially by a person of anti-Coordinator sentiment, it would most definitely land him in a place where the sun would never shine upon his face again. But ever since being uprooted from Sinai Base, Ray found it hard trusting anything in his vicinity that wasn't part of the Manhunters.

The loud roar of jet engines distracted him from his thoughts; turning, he saw a 105 Dagger equipped with an Aile Striker backpack taking off from one of Mannheim's many jet runways, and at the same time, accompanied by two Skygraspers, themselves also equipped with Aile Striker units. The loud roar of the Aile Striker's jet engines hung in the air; the Skygrasper, a limited-production fighter from the last war, was compatible with the Strike Gundam's various equipment pack, and even till today most of OMNI used them to assist in the Skygrasper's aerial range and performance, when they weren't using the packs on their own mobile suits. In a way, it turned the Skygrasper from a mildly-annoying medium fighter more suitables to a ground support role, into a fast-attack unit with a powerful punch and much enlarged range, and Ray could definitely attest to that from his experiences in the USSA War of Independence.

"Great day to do an aerial patrol, isn't it?" a voice said from behind Ray. Turning, he saw Rolan Brego, dressed in a pair of jeans and a white shirt that fitted tightly over his body. "Old Hundred-Oh-Five will follow up to Mannheim's borders for her scheduled test, while the on-duty Skygraspers do the job of hopping over to the edge of Germany and back."

Ray turned to the 105 Dagger, and then to Rolan. "You're not on that thing?"

Rolan gave a slight shake of his head. "As of today, I just got assigned the Hyperion G Unit 8," he hefted the small backpack that he had slung over his shoulder. "But before that, I intend to relax for this whole day before they stick me in the simulator for the next month." He looked over Ray. "Care to join, sir?"

Ray was about to decline the offer when he felt the data pad getting jerked out of his hand. "I'll take care of that, sir," Guy said, "because I've been informed that I don't have any leave days left, but you sir, on the other hand, haven't seemed to have taken a day off since the start of the year. At this rate, you'll make the mechanics jealous."

"When I choose to rest is my own choice, Guy," Ray said, reaching for the data pad, but Guy stopped him.

"We all need time off, sir, you more so than us," he leaned closer, as though to hide his words form Rolan. "Sheryl knows you need to take a break, and I agree with her."

Ray was about to counter-argue, but the metallic touch of the data unit on his neck chain stopped him; for what reason, he knew not. Not yet, at any rate. "Alright," he said, "I'll heed your advice on this."

CE 73, November 26th, Luisenring Main Street, Mannheim City, Germany, Central Europe

Noon 12 43

The roads of the Luisenring were busy with cars as Rolan and Ray walked down the street; around them, Germans were shopping, with some places clearly preparing for Christmas. For Ray, it had been a long time since he had went out without a purpose; ever since the April Fool's Crisis, he hadn't had family nor friend to go out sightseeing with.

For Ray, watching the civilians walk past, unaware of anything other than their daily lives, was a part of the reasons why he had joined OMNI. He had always aspired to be a protector like his policeman father, but when the war started, he was still an officer in training; it wasn't until mobile suits were nearly introduced did he complete his term.

Rolan's voice shook Ray out of his short trip down memory lane. "… and then in that bar, there was this girl who approached me, and she just started putting her hands all over me and asked for my number. Of course, I said no, since it was obvious that…"

"Rolan," Ray asked, deciding that this was as good a time as any to begin his secret task in determining if the people of Mannheim Base could be trusted. Rolan's stories weren't that kind that he was interested in anyways. "What kind of a person is Captain Granmark?"

Rolan was still talking about that bar experience of his when Ray sprung the question, and for a full ten seconds he stopped, mouth half-open with nothing to say. "Lil' Esty, hm?" Rolan said, cupping his chin with his free hand and completely ignoring Ray's frown at Rolan's casual referral of his immediate commander by a pet name; one that, Ray suspected, would probably cause her to blow more than just a fuse were she to ever hear of it in person, if she hadn't already done so in the past. "A bit of a stickler for rules, I'll say."

"That much I can see," Ray said. "What else is she like?"

"Are you trying to make advances on her?" Rolan asked, a sly look on his face.

"No."

"Are you trying to find out when she bathes so you can assassinate her?"

"Of course not, do you think me as some Blue Cosmos la-"

"Are you a long-lost broth-"

"What? No."

Rolan thought about it for a while, before he spoke again, his voice a bit more serious this time. "Well, as you can see," his voice dropped several levels lower, as though his next words could incite a riot, "She has a bit of Coordinator in her."

Rolan was a sharp man. Ray mentally ticked off one of the questions he had in his mind as he continued to press his point. "Seems like it's included in her temper as well."

"That, I can't really say, Ray," Rolan said, setting into a slow walk, both hands in his pocket. "I do know from hearsay that she got her white hair and red eyes from her grandmother, who was one of the first-generation Coordinators after George Glenn, back when he first made his superman status known to the world. Apparently, Miss Captain even stayed in the PLANTS for a year or two before coming back to Germany. As for why she joined up with OMNI though, it's as much of my question as yours, but I can personally vouch that she's certified a Natural."

"A Natural?" Ray asked. "Naturals don't usually have a combination of white hair and red eyes."

"Esther doesn't like to talk about it herself; I've only ever managed to get an answer out of her once," Rolan answered, "But it seems that if a child is produced from a Coordinator and Natural union, the child gets both side of the genes, but only one classification. There's no such actual thing called a half-coordinator; at least, not within the realm of biological classification. Media hysteria is another thing altogether."

Rolan scratched his head. "I'm not a geneticist and I don't know the specifics myself, however, it seems that any Coordinator genes that survive such a pairing usually gets added permanently to the gene pool that the person ends up contributing to; but the Natural side usually remains dominant, which results in what you see in Esther; a person whose gene pattern and arrangement pings Natural on the radar, but whom you wouldn't know to be one just by looking until you took a look at her ID card's gene print. I briefly remember it being that Natural DNA sequences are more randomized than Coordinator ones, but in that randomization, the DNA sequences rearrange themselves in a way that some of the Coordinator aspects are actually replicated. It's theorized that if you rinse and repeat enough times, over several generations, at a minimum, eventually you'd get a Natural with all the Coordinator elements fully duplicated, to some degree of replication."

Rolan shrugged. "'Hell if I know how it actually works. But from what I know, she once told me her mother has white hair as well, and even her brother has extremely light brown hair; apparently, the traces of brown came from her father's side."

I should ask Guy about this when I get back, Ray noted. Racking his mind for things to say, he continued. "She seems well-respected by the people around her. Even the aircraft pilots and tank crew give their respects whenever they see her."

"She may be harder than rock on the surface," Roland said, stopping to buy a drink, "But when things go down the shitter, she's willing to put her pride and life on the line." He stopped at a vending machine for a while and offered Ray a can of coffee. "This one's good."

Ray took it and handed Rolan some coins. "So I take it Mannheim Base isn't made out of anti-gene fanatics like most Atlantic Federation bases, I presume?"

"I don't know where you've been, Ray," Rolan said, the slightest hint of being offended evident in his tone, "but we people in the Eurasian Federation tend to be a lot friendlier, since we're several countries with several different governments, complete with entirely different laws regarding Coordinators, unlike the Atlantic Federation. No offense intended, of course," he added, after a short pause where he took a drink from his own can.

"None taken," Ray said, turning his own canned drink over in his hands. "I envy the Eurasian Federation, in a way. You have a lot of different viewpoints on just about anything and it may bog down decision-making sometimes, but it helps in shaping an individual's moral horizons and limits to a much greater degree."

"Well, there's that," Rolan said. "In fact, I think a few of my countrymen are getting too open about their viewpoints, raising insurgencies like that. It may be a new ZAFT, but racial viewpoints won't change that soon. It'll take an idiot to not know that PLANT Coordinators still don't look kindly on Naturals or Coordinators living on Earth. But never mind that," he said, patting Ray on the shoulder, "Mannheim Base is certified one-hundred percent Blue-Cosmos free, especially," he gave a thumbs-up sign, "when it comes to the people in charge."

"Well, it's good to know that," Ray said. He heaved a small sigh of relief inside. This means that Colonel Moran is probably okay as well. In this case, I won't need to worry that much about the contents of Nain's gift being discovered. Perhaps if all things go well I can even hand over the data here-

Ray was about to say something when a car swerved off the street and rammed into the shop in front of both men. Ray ducked as a shower of glass exploded outwards; from the corner of his eye, he saw Rolan do the same, his backpack flung in front of him.

Then the light came, and an explosion from within the car threw both men backwards. Ray's last thought before blacking out was the immense heat wave covering him.

Afterword:

Here we have a little break from MS action to delve a bit into the pasts of some of the other members of the story, whom I did not cover in the previous series. My main goal for the next few chapters is to attempt to present some semblance of events occurring in a regional view; to shore up the Minerva-centric telling of the original SEED Destiny series.