Chapter 25

CE 73, December 17th,Alpha Tarmac, Mannheim Base, Germany

Morning0922

Ray Feric eyed the pilots disembarking from the latest group of transport aircraft to touchdown in Mannheim Base, a process that had begun since the morning. With each new pilot that appeared from the ramps of the aircrafts, he became more dispirited.

Sheryl shot him a sidelong glance. "This group is freshly delivered from the British mainland jumpad bases, aren't they? You can practically smell the freshness wafting off these nuggets."

"It's pretty clear that they are not worried about the future one bit," Kaguya said. "The feeling of invincibility when an MS pilot first earns his or her right to a machine can be clearly seen on their faces."

Guy, who was beside him, chimed in as well. "I take it these are not Nova Scotia graduates."

Ray turned to Captain Esther Granmark, who was beside him; she spared him a glance before shrugging. "I'm not privy to which units the Atlantic Federation will be sending over as part of their reinforcement contribution. I was hoping I would only have had to deal with Eurasian Federation units from the Western bases on the continent. I'm not surprised, though."

Ray turned back to look at the pilots. Amongst the latest crowd were the same sights he had seen often during his past; some, wide-eyed, looking around at a foreign base, or else joking with friends with the ease of a newly-commissioned officer who had just received his or her bars, thinking that the top of the hill was already in sight. Compared to an earlier, smaller unit, whose pilots were Eurasian veterans, the difference was clear-cut.

He had expected the Atlantic Federation to pull something like this; inexperienced line troops sent to allied areas more as a morale booster than to be of actual help. However, according to what he knew, the reinforcements this time around totalled nearly a division of personnel; the Atlantic Federation EU Expeditionary Force this time around could field three regiments of mobile suits, easily over 300 individual MSes, at any point in time. And that excluded their assorted support vehicles and infantry. More were expected to arrive sometime soon.

Ray appreciated the numbers. He also appreciated the fact that the Atlantic Federation was using numbers to give an appearance; he doubted that these pilots would be useful in a full-out ZAFT invasion, but there were just enough of them to put up an actual fight in the event that shit were to go south.

"Lively bunch, aren't they?" Rolan remarked.

"Rolan," Esther asked. "I thought you were at the hangars?"

"I was," the officer replied. "Benjamin was there, too, so I'd thought I'd come over to see our friends from beyond the Atlantic Ocean. In case you were planning on asking, I've got our people from earlier squared away already, Captain."

Esther nodded appreciatively. The Eurasian troops, unlike their Atlantic counterparts, were only here for a day of transit rest. The majority of them were outbound to frontline locations, one of which was the recently retaken Trencin Base in Slovakia. "God knows they could use the rest before they get shipped out to frontline Eurasian bases. Wallace told me that some of them might even be going to Siberia."

"At this time of the year?" Sheryl remarked. "The poor bastards."

"They'll be fine," Guy replied. "They'll very quickly learn that an early morning shower is a ticket to the sickbay."

There was a short round of laughter from all, before Esther excused herself. "I've got some things to handle before we can get these new pilots into the program. You can watch these guys flap around if you want; today's going to be an uneventful day, so enjoy it while it lasts."

Ray continued watching the procession, with Rolan staying a while more than his superior. At length, as the lines of personnel were coming to an end, Ray heard someone call out.

"Lieutenant Feric!"

Ray turned to the sight of a female Major of the Atlantic Federation striding towards his location. He squinted for a moment, his mind focusing on something that seemed vaguely familiar; then, as the officer closed the distance, he caught sight of her name tag.

"You've climbed far, Major Calis," Ray said, as Venna Calis reached the group.

"I made my name during the Copernicus terrorist incident a year ago," Venna replied, her tone polite. "I never thought I'd meet you here."

"Neither did I," Ray replied.

"Neither did I expect to see such veterans gathered around here," a third, deeper, voice added. Major Geroda Rells approached from behind Venna, arms crossed; his Phantom Pain shoulder patch was in clear view of all present. "Ray Feric, I see. Still with a four-man flight squad?"

Ray's eyes narrowed. Geroda Rells, Kelvin Genedan, and Ray himself, were all former squadron mates at one point in time or another. The three of them had been in the same grouping of cadets, as well.

"A four-man squadron... Major," Ray said, keeping his voice level. "There's a basic difference between a flight unit and a squadron unit." A smirk turned up the corners of his mouth by a little bit.

Rells' eyes narrowed as he fixed Ray in his glare. "Still sharp-tongued as ever, I see. Once a maverick, always a maverick. It astounds me as to how you ever got a position as an instructor in the first place."

Sheryl started forward, but Ray shifted his body, making it clear that she was not to interfere. Behind Geroda, however, Vlitz Dyald did not have anyone holding him back, and the arrogant pilot took his place beside Geroda. "So this is the bastard? What a weak-looking guy."

"I see the squadron has gotten some new blood since Kaohsiung," Kaguya said, moving from behind Ray to stand beside him. "Although the quality of it is suspect."

"You..." Vlitz started. "The hell are you babbling on about?!"

Ray shot a glance at Kaguya, nudging her foot. He realized that Kaguya was talking about her past operational history at Kaohsiung during the first war. Atlantic Federation presence at Kaohsiung during the last few months of the war was a well-known event; less well-known, and first told to Ray by Kelvin when they were still working together, was that the Atlantic Federation had forcibly intervened with the 81st Autonomous Corps during that campaign, arresting many local officers and OMNI commanders for treason against allies; the vacated positions were soon filled with pro-Atlantic Federation personnel in short order.

Only the timely end of the war at Jachin Due had prevented a meat grinder between the last standing ZAFT force on the planet, and the Atlantic-manipulated Republic of East Asia troops stationed around the Kaohsiung mass driver.

Listening to the exchange, Ray surmised that Kaguya, whose file had listed her as one of those arrested and reposted to other locations, had probably not gone quietly.

"Such a small world, it seems," Geroda said. "Miss Sakamoto, was it? I think my predecessors may have tangled with you."

"Oh, that," Vlitz sneered. "How nice of OMNI to put all the worthless traitors together, then. Maybe we'll string you all in front and march you forward to ZAFT; after all, since you like the dipshits so much, maybe you can do us a favour and die with them."

"You're a rude bastard, aren't you?" Sheryl said, stepping forward as well. "I hope you can shoot better than you can boast, smalltime."

Vlitz snarled, moving forward until he was face-to-face with Sheryl, who did not back off. That only served to make him angrier. "You wanna try repeating that, bitch? Why don't we run a trial fight in the near future, and let's see if I can't get your nametag to read 'Lieutenant S. Loser', because that's the only thing you'll be after that day."

Sheryl merely smirked, inching her face forward until both of them were nearly in physical contact, the Manhunters' sharpshooter eyeing Vlitz with all the confidence of a person raring for a fight. The fact that Vlitz was half a head taller did not deter her one bit, and Ray could see the other pilot's expression visibly contort in rage as Sheryl spoke. "You should make preparations too. That D in your family name might end up referring to all you deserve for your soldiering grade, one day."

Ray himself was ready to let them go at it, but he knew that if he let a fight erupt on his hands, Esther would have his head at the next meeting. "Sheryl, Kaguya, that's enough." He eyed Geroda. "Our ranks may be different, but I'll hope that you'll extend me the same courtesy as you do your two squadron leaders, Major," he looked at Vlitz and Hanna Ignas, who was behind him, "and keep your people in check."

Geroda was silent for a moment. "Consider it a last act of respect." He turned to leave. "Pity that you did not seem to have learnt anything from Kelvin."

Ray was silent as the three Phantom Pain pilots left, before turning to Venna, whose expression had changed. "I should guess that you're not here to just catch up with me," He faced his former student, arms crossed. "Are you a part of them, too?"

Venna's reply, with her previous facade dropped, was as icy as Ray's tone. "I'm disappointed that you would lump me in with them. Still, that saves me the trouble of explaining myself. We're now of different ranks, you and I. I intend to get answers for what happened to Celina Searstone."

Ray fell silent, and Venna narrowed her eyes. "What's the matter? Finally realized how much of a scumbag you are?"

"Get the hell off my commander's case," Sheryl growled, stepping in front of Ray. "Major," she added, with a long enough pause in-between to count as an afterthought of false formality.

"You need a lesson in restraint, Lieutenant Camelot, and a painful one, if you're going to keep this up." Venna said, and eyed Ray one last time, before turning to leave. "I will have my answers, Ray Feric. You can't run forever."

"What the hell is wrong with pilots these days?" Guy said, shaking his head. "Can't go for a month without either a terrorist madman or a Blue Cosmos madman."

"No, Venna... Captain Calis doesn't strike me as a Blue Cosmos supporter." Ray replied. "She must have her reasons."

"She's stark raving mad, that's her reason," Sheryl said.

"That's enough of all that," Ray hurriedly said, turning away from Mannheim's runways. "We're not going to be free for the whole day, and we won't be free after today. Let's get back to our tasks."

CE 73, December 19th, Mannheim Base, Germany

Morning 08 22

Wallace Edwards Isenberg, Eurasian Federation Terrestrial Army Major, collapsed back into a nearby sofa, and sighed hard. "And the noose tightens."

His superior officer, Colonel Roan Moran, stalked around his desk, while Wallace ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. "They've finally made their move."

"Yes, sir," Wallace replied tiredly. "In two weeks' time or so, more forces from the Atlantic Federation are due to arrive; the current forces present here are to set up a base unit for which the new commander can work with. They'll be based out of Mannheim until further notice."

"A division of men and women," Roan said. "Clearly, they are not intending to let us handle matters on our own anymore. What is the situation like on the other bases?"

"French-territory bases have received a few similar deployments," Wallace said, dipping into his memory; the report that he had brought with him had been read through so many times Wallace feared that it was all he would dream about for the next few nights. "As have Spanish and Italian holdings. The Atlantic Federation is consolidating their expeditionary forces where we have already established well-built and set-in facilities. Mannheim is just one of three German bases hosting Atlantic Federation troops. Naturally, frontline bases in Southern Europe and in Siberia are manned by our own units."

"Of course, I should expect that none of them have had to host Phantom Pain on their bases," Roan said.

"None, sir," Wallace replied. "We're special, it seems."

"I'm used to being marked as a target, this much is nothing," Roan said. "But Captain Granmark is not very happy about the new arrivals. According to her initial reports, they're a very hostile bunch towards the Manhunters in particular."

"Hostile...?" Wallace asked.

"Outright hostility," Roan said. "If you'd please, Wallace. I'd like to know a bit more about our more... raucous guests for the long-term."

"Of course, sir," Wallace said, standing back up again. "Consider it done."

CE 73, December 21st, Mannheim Base, Germany

Afternoon 14 15

Mannheim Base, being a relatively large facility, boasted ample recreation options even within its barbed wire fences and concrete walls. When Colonel Roan Moran had been given command of this place a year earlier, he had expanded, first and foremost, the small library that Mannheim had. It was, and remained his most successful actions back then as a newly-minted base commander, and the library could often be seen with a respectable number of servicemen within, even if their numbers never peaked as much as the pool and gaming rooms at certain hours of the day.

To Ray, the library was a miniature paradise, and a surprisingly helpful place for his new role as combat instructor. The place stocked books that were either not for widespread sale, or were otherwise a hassle to find amidst the deluge of civilian writings that dominated the world outside; the majority of them were military-related, including memoirs by former commanders and fighting men and women from as far back as the old calendar's World War I, an event that was some generations removed from the game-changing Reconstruction War of the far-off past itself.

Currently nestled in a cushioned chair, he was looking through a stack of guides written by mobile suits pilots. Amongst simpler history books detailing the rise and domination of mobile suits in the space warfare theatre, and their tactical advantages in land warfare compared to conventional vehicles, there were also personal accounts written by individual pilots, words and details that were released after the First Bloody Valentine War; details from a pilot in the mobile armor corps who had fought throughout the war since the Battle of Yggdrasil, experience from famed pilots such as Edward Harrison and Sakura Imelia, collected accounts by ZAFT pilots during the brief period of improved cooperation between the EA and ZAFT a year prior to the outbreak of the Second Bloody Valentine War, with names such as Heine Westenfluss and Larry Falke, detailing the early days of the first war, the Earth Alliance/OMNI introduction of small-scale mobile suit production prior to the proliferation of the rank-and-file Strike Daggers, and even the development of main battle tank tactics in relation to anti-mobile suit combat; to Ray's amusement, there was a section by Rahabinod Ravinan on the Battle of El Alamein in the book.

Ray's thoughts wandered to how his former comrades were doing. Rahabinod had mentioned that he was going to be taken back to the Atlantic Federation for re-training; Ray could only guess at how the man, who he had heard had emigrated from India, in the Equatorial Union, at the same time as when the Coordinator boom was beginning, felt, at the gradual corruption of his adopted nation in the current era, to its present, Blue Cosmos-controlled state.

The last Ray had heard of Mendez LaFouze, Sinai's infantry contingent commander, he had been re-assigned to the South American front. Ray did not envy being sent to the world's current hotbed of insurgent activity; while it was announced clearly by the United States of South America's continental government that they had joined the Atlantic Federation, those who were more clear-headed in the analysis could tell that the current government was one that was clearly Atlantic-aligned from the beginning they took office; that being a short period of time after the cessation of hostilities in the War of Independence; thankfully, it seemed that the Atlantic Federation had yet to gouge them for frontline fighting troops, perhaps in part due to a reluctance to expose any possible sleeper insurgents to the possibility of piloting a mobile suit.

The only question was how the USSA could so readily be led by a pro-Atlantic group when the entire nation was so clearly against it; it could have been a simple exchange of copious amounts of money under the table, or they could even have been placed in their position by more… violent means. Ray did not rule out the possibility of a shadow intervention by the Atlantic Federation's special forces, and, last he had heard, it was also about the same time as the end of the War of Independence that the resistance movement, rumoured to have been led by ex-Atlantic pilot Edward Harrison, had slackened, with their former war hero nowhere to be found, although Ray surmised that, given recent events in the news, others, perhaps less skilful, but no less willing, had stepped up to take the role of resistance leadership.

The two personnel on the base in charge of intelligence, Majors Yoko Asanogawa and Nain bint Amir, were placed to different locations. Ray knew that Yoko had returned to the Republic of East Asia's Northern Air Force Command, but as an Atlantic Federation officer, Nain's fate was unknown; the last he knew of her, she had been escorted away by officers from the Atlantic Republic's Office of Internal Intelligence, far from a good omen of things to come.

At the memory of Nain, Ray briefly pressed the fingers of his right hand to his chest, feeling the touch of metal on skin; the data unit still hung from his dog tags, waiting for him to either dispose of it, or to give it up to someone else. The recollection of the oddly-named folder that contained Kaguya's name swam up to the front of his mind. No intelligence officer would single out a lone pilot, but from the combat reports he had read of the battle with NEFA, Kaguya had showed no cowardice or hesitation in her actions. And he was well aware of her past actions with the Manhunters; nowhere had she attempted to place her life against the lives of the Manhunters.

Perhaps the clue lies in the name? Ray thought. But his mind pulled up no clues; Kaguya's name identified her as hailing from the region of Japan in the Republic of East Asia. Hardly something worth taking note of.

Ray attempted to return to his book, but inside his mind, ideas continued bubbling into existence. Nain's subtle hint for action on Ray's part regarding something about Kaguya aside, the existence of the data unit itself was a separate question. If he destroyed it, he would be rid of a burden. On the other hand, it was a very real possibility that ZAFT would effect a push from south-east, a move that Ray had no doubt could be easily supported by their Diocuia Base. He had already been informed by Esther that Eurasian Federation scout forces had spotted ZAFT moving land battleships into position along the new borders; a two-ship formation of Compton-class land battleships, mobile command bases by any other name. There could be any number of number of mobile suits up, to two battalions' worth, in-between the two behemoths, and if Ray knew anything about ZAFT line tactics, there was little need to doubt that a formation of at least four Petrie-class strike landships would also be moving in concert with them. If paired with an attack force, each Compton-class could run command and control operations for easily upward three regiments of armoured forces; enough to effect a serious threat to the core Eurasian nations; and that was not discounting the additional attack forces that were sure to be launched from ZAFT bases in the event of an actual assault.

The data unit would help; that is, it would allow them to prepare, or even mount a serious strike against the Minerva with what little mobile suits they had, as long as Ray could get a terminal with a powerful-enough decrypting system.

There was little reassurance by the distance in-between them and the ZAFT forces, either. While ZAFT units at the Gibraltar Base had a straighter shot at OMNI HQ in Geneva, the men and women stationed at the Saragossa Defence Line had learnt their lessons from the First Bloody Valentine War well; the position was still as solid as it was during the first war, and ZAFT had, after numerous probing strikes in the wake of their wave of reinforcements, settled for dangerously-close reconnaissance runs. If anything, the seceding of the southern Eurasian Federation nations in the previous months had made the feasibility of a strike from Diocuia much more appealing. Factored in with the loss of the Lohengrin Gate in Gulnahan, there was nothing left to stop ZAFT, apart from the personnel of the Eurasian Federation in the south-east of Europe, and failing that, those, including his own team, who were stationed within the core nations. Fighting would grind through urban center after urban center, scattered across mountain range after mountain range. It was a grind that the still-recovering Eurasian Federation could ill-afford, and Ray knew that the same applied to the overstretched OMNI itself, having to split between the still-ongoing refugee and disaster relief operations from the Junius 7 fallout, and the current fighting situation.

Ray was so absorbed with his thoughts that he failed to notice Esther walking up behind him until she put herself into the periphery of his vision. "No training scheduled for today?" she asked, settling down on a seat beside his'. "How do you find the new pilots?"

Ray set the book down and stretched his legs out for a while, before adjusting his posture; the cushioned seat, with its soft back- and armrests, had been more comfortable than he had expected. "Today's lesson is Kaguya's jig; she has them on blade techniques. As for the pilots, they'll learn well enough, ma'am. Most of the rank-and-file are really just new blood. So new, in fact, that I'm afraid that they won't hold up once ZAFT comes in. On the other hand…"

Esther gave a wry smile. "I apologize. I underestimated the urgency of Eurasian high command; I thought we'd… you'd mostly be training those. Still, they're a lot easier to deal with that that other bunch, I presume?"

Ray's expression clouded over at Esther's disguised mention of the veteran pilots amongst the reinforcements. "You mean Majors Venna and Geroda? They've not turned up at all; Geroda says that his unit doesn't need the training, and it's the same for Venna. It's not helping matters that they both outrank us. The rest of the pilots are still awaiting their unit assignment, I think; they're under a provisional commander who's just a Lieutenant, although one due his promotion to Captain soon. I presume that their actual commander will probably arrive later on with the division commander, and that guy can then take his rightful position as a flight leader, or a squadron commander, depending on how highly-ranked the new arrivals will be."

Esther nodded slowly. "Do you need me to speak with Colonel Roan on those two?"

Ray pondered the possibility for a while. A quip from his former comrade came floating onto the surface of his memory; a thought from Captain Kelvin Genedan, back when both of them were still instructors at the Nova Scotia training facility.

With yours and my rate of contact with them, it'll ensure that we can identify those who might support to our course, and those who will potentially become the lapdogs for Blue Cosmos.

"…Ray?" Esther asked.

"I… think that there would be no need for that," Ray replied, after a long pause. "Both of them are commanders of already-established units. Undoubtedly they would have acquired people who are in the know of basic close-in fighting skills."

"I see," Esther replied. "Not inundating them with clashing tactics, eh?"

"In a sense," Ray replied.

As he bid Esther farewell, Ray's mind turned to another corner of his thoughts. It was true that active units did not take well to new fighting tactics on the fly; if their commanders were not receptive, then there was no point in teaching the unit members.

Ray's second reason, though, was something more base of mind than tactics and strategies.

Phantom Pain did not deploy people on base-watching duties; they carried themselves above such actions that they considered mundane; and to be frank, in Ray's opinion, there was no justifying using a special warfare unit for simple frontline duties; no military, even the most inefficient one, could operate half as well as it currently was if it operated on "fair distribution of responsibilities". If Geroda and his squadron were here, backed by a fully-activated battalion; in this case, Venna's battalion, then there was something in the works that could potentially end in open fighting. The possibility of whether it was Geroda and Venna against Ray and whomever would stand beside him, or everyone together, against ZAFT, was the knife-edge upon which the future rested.

In Ray's opinion, an OMNI-vs-OMNI scenario, for whatever reason that it might come to pass, was much more dangerous. ZAFT was simply the enemy and an inevitable conclusion to this whole war. However, having Atlantic and Eurasian Federation troops within the same base clash against each other was a battle that could, on theory, be avoided entirely; to trigger it willingly would be idiocy of the highest magnitude, leaving a major support base weakened in the event of a ZAFT assault.

Ray was also well aware that no one person held the true triggers to such a battle; it could be Geroda, it could be Ray himself goaded into such an action, and so on and so forth. There was little else the Manhunters could do but prepare for it. If it came to that, Ray wanted to make sure that he held every advantage that he could… even if it purposely, and potentially, weakened his strongest 'allies'.

CE 73, December 21st, Mannheim Base, Germany

Afternoon 16 45

Kaguya sat back down as the last of the recruits stumbled out of the training area, the complaints of sore limbs and bodies slowing fading into the corridor. She had pushed them far beyond the expectations that were laid out for them, to give the new pilots an expectation for what they might expect if they had the bad luck to run into something more than just simple line troops.

Pausing only to wipe the sweat from her forehead, she picked up her personal datapad. A news app alert was blinking, and she absentmindedly tapped on it. The headlines, however, swiftly brought her back into reality as her grip tightened on the datapad.

The front-page image was that of a sinking aircraft carrier that flew a tattered flag emblazoned with the national icon of the Orb Union.

CE 73, December 24th, Mannheim Base, Germany

Evening 19 24

The days that passed were relatively uneventful. Thankfully for Ray, Geroda and Venna kept largely to their side of the base, leaving him and the Manhunters to impart to the new pilots as many skills as they could.

Most of them, being fresh graduates from pilot training programs in the Atlantic Federation, had never stepped into any mobile suit outside of training units before. Mannheim Base was not well-stocked by any measure of the world, in comparison to typical Atlantic Federation facilities, but even they could spare a few Dagger Ls for the trainees' use. Ray remembered the looks on their faces as they first set hands on a unit that was much more reactive to their commands than the Strike Daggers he knew were the staple of baseline military academies back in his home nation.

He and Kaguya, especially, had drilled the young pilots as well as they could; not to turn them into warriors, but at least well enough that they did not panic when caught in a close-combat situation. They had run various simulations; Kaguya had fought against them in scenarios where enemies were expected to use high-powered close-combat equipment, using her own experiences in recent combat to showcase the level of proficiency required of the new pilots to, at least survive their own future encounters with special ZAFT units.

As Ray had expected, not many of the pilots had fared well, but Kaguya managed to keep the lessons going. If it was of any consolation to the pilots, they fared moderately better in Sheryl's and Guy's shooting drills.

The squadron commander of the Manhunters himself had taught them emergency moves; tips and tricks that were more dirty fighting than matching an opponent's skills. He, similarly, achieved a less-than-expected proficiency rate amongst the pilots. Talking to some of them, he found out that their training back in the homeland had been accelerated many times over. The capability of reacting quickly to changes in situation, Ray realized, had not been given enough time to be honed through nonlethal training. Now that they were commissioned officers, all that could be done to rectify this was to host short training stints. Real combat, if it came to that, would have to do the rest, although it would unfortunately cost some of them their lives in the process.

It was not lost on Ray that the accelerated training phase was probably due to the losses in space, which had finally began to impact the Atlantic Federation's seemingly-infinite manpower; most of the space forces were Atlantic-based, with the land wars usually left to their planet-side allies; Blue Cosmos, Ray reasoned, was always seeking for a decisive action that would decapitate the PLANTs in a flashy, strategic strike, the better to showcase their supremacy. Although they were still a while away before they could feel the personnel crunch, war was a fickle mistress; hundreds, even thousands of lives could be lost in the blink of an eye. Committing to any battle without a backup plan for massive loss of fighting strength was a recipe for an avalanche of disastrous results that had, historically, felled many a well-disciplined fighting force. It was, also, unfortunately, Blue Cosmos' preferred method of waging war.

An outburst of laughter brought Ray back to the present; the party currently being thrown in Mannheim's largest mess hall, in celebration of Christmas tomorrow. Looking around the brightly-decorated mess hall, complete with an authentic Christmas tree in a corner, Ray found out that the source came from a group of pilots, all of them new arrivals, and whom one was trying to balance an almost unholy number of fruit tarts on his forehead. Others milled around the area, either in groups or looking to pick up new friends amongst the Mannheim personnel present. Finger food was piled onto trays, arranged upon rows of rearranged long tables, and people freely mingled for one night out of an otherwise hectic year.

Beside him, Sheryl sniggered, as the leader of the Manhunters swirled the drink in his paper cup contentedly. "Feels nice to be young, eh?"

Ray raised an eyebrow and looked at his second-in-command. "Funny that should come from you and not Kaguya."

"Loads must be shared between team members, yes?" Kaguya replied, startling both of them as she approached from behind, the smirk on her face enough evidence to Ray that she had heard the earlier exchange. Her expression sobered somewhat as she continued. "Come a few days more, their short stint of training will have ended, and their new commanders would probably arrive as well. Then it's up to anyone's guess to see where they are going."

"I can only hope that we've given them better chances than before," Ray said. "After hearing the recent news from Esther, I do not envy these new pilots."

"Look on the bright side," Guy said, joining the three of them. "If there are any people going to the frontlines before them, it'll be us. They're still under Atlantic Federation jurisdiction, right?"

"Yes, but as I see it," Ray replied, "We're past the time for going out to face ZAFT. They'll be coming to us in due time. The only difference is whether it comes sooner, or later."

Sheryl made a sound of discontent. "Aah, forget all that," she said, draining her cup in a single shot. "Today's Christmas Eve! Let's just kick back and relax for a while."

As Sheryl left for the nearest punch bowl, Ray noticed a group of pilots walking closer to him. One of them, a female pilot, approached Ray, while the others behind her, a mixture of men and women, tried to egg her on as inconspicuously as they could.

Which was, to Ray, almost too painfully clear to see.

Ray recognized the pilot; 2nd Lieutenant Helen Tylings had displayed a far better aptitude with shooting than most, when he had led a lesson on urban ranged combat tactics; a few days ago, Sheryl had mentioned her name when the Manhunters had gathered to share their session experiences at the end of each day of training. After the session, Ray had advised Sheryl to instruct the young officer on the finer details of being a squadron sharpshooter, both on the ground of her shooting skills, and with the fact gleaned from his own training session that she was far less suited as a close-combat pilot.

"Er, hi, Lieutenant," Helen replied, sparing a glance around her surroundings. "Didn't know Mannheim was so welcoming."

"Good evening to you too, Helen," Ray said. "Got a question that you can't wait until the 26thto ask?"

Helen scratched the side of her head, looking, for the most part, to have enough questions to ask all the way to next morning, but couldn't decide on one. "Er… well… I was wondering… if you would be free tomorrow."

Ray barely stopped himself from putting on a pained face, and did his best to ignore muffled chuckles from Guy and Kaguya, who were, thankfully, hidden from view behind his body. "Well, I…"

Before Ray could answer, he felt an arm drape itself over his left shoulder, nearly shaking whatever drink he had left out of his cup.

"There's going to be a squadron meeting early tomorrow," Sheryl said, sparing a glance at Ray. "Between the active units in Mannheim. That means the Blizzards and us."

"Even o… on a holiday?" Helen asked hesitantly, her eyes switching between Sheryl and Ray.

While the military usually allowed all but essential duty personnel to return home for the holidays, neither Kaguya, Guy, nor Sheryl had opted to do so. Kaguya, as usual, had said that she had no plans to return home. Ray surmised that Guy's family being in Copernicus, on the moon, meant that any return home would be a lengthy one planned well in advance, or none at all, and Sheryl had denied any plans to go back after he had answered her question about his own holiday plans.

As for himself, even if he had a house back home, there was no one else left to live in it. It just wasn't worth the trouble to travel.

Naturally, there was no such thing as a military meeting tomorrow. Esther's squadron was almost gone with the exception of their Captain, who lived on the base itself; even then, he had heard that her family was coming over to town to spend the holiday together tomorrow, making any work-related meetings impossible. The only thing that made the lie possible was that Esther was as far related from the Manhunters' current activities as they were from Sinai Base; the majority of training had been handled by Ray's unit, with Esther only helping out occasionally with the paperwork; the rest of the Blizzards were entirely uninvolved.

Shaking his thoughts free of his past, Ray returned to Helen's query. "Sheryl is right. Work waits for no one. We are on a major military installation, after all," he said, trying his best to ignore Guy's choking. "Just enjoy the moment."

"I… I understand, sir," Helen said, trying to keep her expression upbeat. "Um… yeah. Thanks."

As Helen returned to her group, Sheryl met Ray's gaze. The Manhunters' sharpshooter avoided his sight after a while, but she had her own piece to say. "… you were looking for a way to graciously refuse it, right? All I did was make it look more legitimate."

Ray turned to face away from Helen's group, a distance away, and let his countenance relax. "I know. Thanks for the save."

"She reminds you of her, doesn't she?"

"Who?"

Sheryl's gaze speared Ray with a look that told him in, all too clearly, to stop stalling. "You know who I'm talking about. The one that you told me about before. Celina Searstone, was it?"

Ray turned to face his squadron members. Guy and Kaguya met his gaze, waiting for anything he might want to say before they started asking questions. They were there when Venna had confronted Ray, and they had probably asked around and done enough paperwork in the days following the Trencin battle to have pieced together a picture of their leader, and reconcile it with their own thoughts. Ray made the decision; he could not keep a lid on things forever, and all signs seemed to point towards his past resurfacing rapidly.

Ray breathed in deeply, before continuing. "Hit the nail on the head, as usual. Well, long story short, back when I was an AATCTF instructor doing advanced pilot training, I had a student by that name. Celina was…"

He swallowed once, his gaze meeting the ground, before continuing. "She was one of the brightest there. Events that followed shortly before her course batch was due to graduate from that place revealed, to me, that she was also a Blue Cosmos whistleblower."

"I had confronted her about it. After all, their heavy-handed actions in sending security troops there upon her word had cost one of my friends his life. A fellow instructor by the name of Kelvin Genedan. I suppose that there was little that she could do about it, as a mere whistleblower agent; and it was, for Kelvin, to either die in a cell or die on the spot. Most who knew Blue Cosmos' modus operandi would choose the latter. And to be sure, treason, no matter the reason for it, is still a crime."

"She later wrote a letter to explain her actions to me, after our confrontation. It was… unfortunate that I only received it posthumously. I do not deny that my harsh words may have drove a desperate person, who was only being used as a shackled pawn, to suicide."

He looked up again, and glanced around, making sure that no one was within earshot. Around them hummed the low, ambient noise of conversations in public spaces; a mess of sounds undecipherable unless one was close to one's chosen target. "Helen… reminds me of her. A bright student and a promising pilot bound for greater things. You have seen Major Venna Calis; do not think of her in a bad light. She was Celina's partner back in the AATCTF."

"I was told that they often shared pointers on piloting when they were both junior officers, and, as far as I know, that incident had been quickly closed as a suicide case. Not an untruthful excuse, but a poor one nonetheless, if you're looking for the truth. And she has every right to seek the truth."

As Ray ended his brief tale, Kaguya was silent, thinking. This was a side of the commander that was not in her knowledge of him.

Sheryl was quiet, looking at her commander with sharp eyes; this was not the first time she had heard of his history, but it was the first where it had been brought to the present, to have an impact on the present.

Guy was the first to reply; his voice was low, but his tone carried unmistakable conviction in his sentence. As a parent working for long periods away from home, away from his family, he understood what it was like to be on the receiving end of someone else's resentment; the only difference in Ray's case was that his opposing end was not occupied by a child who could be easily talked to, and who had been given every possible reason that existed to hone that resentment into a sharp blade. "And you believe that there is a possibility that similar events may happen in Mannheim."

Ray nodded once, almost imperceptibly. "Geroda's unit is already on this base. Agent aside, it is far more pressing, and far more likely, that Venna is either being used by him, or has been ordered to support him, or may even be taking his side of her own free will." Ray said. "I will no longer exclude any possibilities. I can't make you guys stand away from me. We're all in the same unit; they will come for your heads once they're done with mine."

"But, at least, if… or when the blue-on-blue starts, we can make sure that we don't get the future," he nodded towards Helen's group, which had resumed their partying mood; there was nary a care in the world within that evening, as one of Helen's friends teased her, "… tangled up in it."

Afterword:
A little bit of buildup in this chapter to lead to the surrounding events that will take place at around the same time as the battle against the Destroy in the main series. I always found the buildup to it rather thin in the original series, so hopefully this and the following few chapters will be able to add something to it.