Lunamaria stared out at the rolling seas, overcome by the smell of the ocean in its intensity as well as the sheer size, witnessing it for the first time in her life. On the PLANTs the water was all fresh water, using for drinking and bathing with a few artificial lakes and ponds to give the impression of living on Earth, but also serving a dual purpose that benefited the plants in some form or other. By comparison to the sea, those ponds seemed stale, sterile, and lifeless. The ocean though, it seemed like a living thing, dark and brooding under a gray overcast sky.

Imperfect, dirty, full of life, and with its rolling white capped waves it appeared to be frothing in rage. Outraged at the tonnes of rock and metal that had fallen from above and scarred mother earth. Lashing out in blind outrage, breaking itself against the heat-scarred and dented hull of the Minerva, only to draw back and strike back again and again. As if sensing that the ship was not of itself and that it needed to be destroyed.

Though she was human, Lunamaria had never set foot on Earth, the birthplace of humanity. She had always stayed on the colonies, ever since she had been born. Yet, even though she felt like a stranger here, she also felt like she had finally come home. Like she was where she belonged. She couldn't quite explain it, but she felt like she was wrapped in her mother's arms. Which was ironic, because that was what she wanted to be right now.

Shawn, Dale, Koko, Alexi, Wang Min, and so many others that she hadn't gotten to know were gone. Not to mention everyone aboard the Titan. Of the full complement that they had started out with, then been reinforced with, they were down to only the four pilots on the Minerva. Her, Shinn, Rey, and Emily. It was odd having so many empty seats in the mess hall. Normally the pilots had all sat together. Now, at meal time they still did, but they could all fit at the smallest table now. Nobody talked about everyone they had lost, but it ate at Lunamaria like something was trying to claw its way out of her.

Lunamaria could say that it was because she was an elite, wearing the red jacket as proof as to why she was still alive, but that just wasn't true. Wang Min and Alexi had both been red jacket elites, yet they were still dead. Alexi even having taken a beam blast that had been meant for her by sheer chance.

She didn't have any more right to be alive than any of the others, so why had she been spared? She wasn't the best pilot in the fleet, hell, she wasn't even the best pilot on the Minerva, so why had she survived what had killed so many others? It just didn't make any sense.

Guilt washed over Lunamaria in waves as ferocious and unsettled as those breaking against the Minerva. She felt like crying, but oddly enough felt like she didn't have the strength to do so. Lunamaria didn't know how long she was on the railing looking out over the sea, lost in her own thoughts as she was. Wasn't even aware that it had started to rain until it stopped hitting her.

"Are you quite alright Lieutenant?"

Lunamaria snapped out of her reverie and realized that it was the Imperial Colonel speaking to her, and holding an umbrella above her. Rain splashing off of the shiny black rim of his officer's cap. Gray eyes like hardened steel looking into her own.

"I...I'm fine," said Lunamaria, still feeling unsettled and then shivered as she realized how numbingly cold the rain had made her, fighting to keep her teeth from rattling together. Hair standing up on end on her neck as a light tremor wracked her body.

"I would advise against exposing yourself to the elements like this on your first trip to a planet body Lieutenant. Your immune system isn't accustomed to the germs and pathogens here. Most likely you will become ill within the next few days and standing outside like this will only exacerbate the illness."

"Oh? I guess so," said Lunamaria, sounding distant, even to herself. Feeling like a fog had descended over mind, making her sluggish and tired. "I just wanted some fresh air is all."

"It is nearly time for supper, perhaps some hot food would suit you well at a time like this?"

Lunamaria's mind flashed to the mess hall with the empty seats and complicit silence she would be a party to. It gripped at her chest like a vice and made her heart beat like that of a panicked bird."

"NO! No...I...I'm not hungry. I'll eat later."

"You're shivering," observed the Imperial Colonel. Lunamaria didn't answer him, fearing that speaking would show the fear and turmoil in her. She heard a rustle of fabric and the umbrella shift briefly. Then a thick and already warm jacket placed across her shoulders and wrapped around her, instantly halting the chill in her body.

Despite the relief from the cold, Lunamaria couldn't help but feel guilt. The coat was made was a greatcoat made for someone over a foot taller than her and it trailed on the water covered deck, dirtying it.

They stood in silence for a time, looking out over the rolling, angry seas.

"I joined the Death Korps at 15 years with my twin brother Fredrick. We served in the same regiment together; in the same battalion, same company, same platoon, same section, same squad for six years. We trained together, fought together, ate together, and slept together. Fredrick was the better of the two of us, he always was. I've come to see that over the years. The better soldier, the better fighter, the better leader...the better Krieger. We were preparing to deploy to the surface of Andulasia II for a mop up operation. Low risk assessment for a simple counter insurgency mission. The shuttle we were taking down had a broken security harness and the load master refused to allow me to ride down without being strapped in. I was to catch the next shuttle down. The shuttle was struck by a piece of debris as it was entering atmosphere, one in a billion chance I've been told. It ruptured the crew compartment and the heat of re-entry cooked the crew and passengers alive. There were no survivors. I am alive today because of a faulty seat harness."

"Looking for reasons why you are alive and another is not will drive you mad. There is no order, no predictability in warfare. It is chaos, caring not for the attribute of one or character of another. It is cruel and capricious, not something that any human being can find reason it. You will carry the weight of the loss of your comrades from now to your end of days, but it is how you choose to carry that burden that will shape who you become."

"I never said that I was feeling guilty," mumbled Lunamaria, pulling the coat tighter around herself.

"You did not need to."

"...How did you know?" asked Lunamaria after a lengthy pause.

"You forget Lieutenant, I've been a soldier much longer than you have."

"Then how do you do it?" asked Lunamaria after they stood in silence for a time save for the patter of the rain. "You know...deal with...this."

"There is no true answer to that, instead you must ask yourself what is it that you are fighting for. Once you know what it is that makes you fight and wear the uniform, you must then ask yourself if it is a burden worth all the heartache and suffering that you are forced to endure. If the answer is yes, then you must decide what you are willing to sacrifice for it. I will not lie to you, it will not be an easy life, but it is a necessary one. An honorable life."

"Okay, that helps a bit," said Lunamaria noncommittally and they once again lapsed into silence.

"I hope I did not overstep my bounds Lieutenant. If that is the case then I must apologize to you."

"No, no that's not it," placated Lunamaria. "It's just that...I don't know what it is."

"If I may make a suggestion?"

"Go ahead sir."

"Do not dwell overly long on it. Live your life as you normally do and the answer will make itself known to you. You will find the thing you desire most."

"What I desire most? Well I suppose that it would be. What I meant was," stuttered Lunamaria, voice starting to waver. "Well, I...I...I don't want to die," blurted out Lunamaria unexpectedly, even to herself. Everything after that just came out in a flood.

"I don't understand why I'm alive and the others aren't and it doesn't seem right, but this sick part of me is glad that it was them and not me. I know it's selfish and maybe I'm an awful person, but I don't want to die. I mean I wouldn't make someone die so that I could live, but I wouldn't switch places with anyone who had so they could come back to life if I could either. I mean Shawn and Dale were my friends, we went to the academy together, but I...I...I'm just so damned ashamed and scared and I don't know what to do. I hate myself for feeling like this, but I'd still do anything to stay alive. I don't know what to do and my mind seems to be going a million miles an hour. I'm even scared to pilot my Zaku, like it'll be my coffin if I get in it. I keep having nightmares of my sister dying like the crew on the Titan and that makes me sick to even think about. I imagine her burning alive and I wake up covered in sweat.I can't sleep after because a part of my mind is going what if she's already dead? Maybe she slipped in the shower and broke her neck. Maybe she had a heart attack and if I don't go help her right now she'll die. I woke her up at three in the morning yesterday just to make sure she was okay and I pretended I was drunk and celebrating with everyone else wanting her to join in. I even took a mouthful of whiskey so she would smell it. I've always looked out for her, but how can I protect her if I can't even keep my team alive?!"

Lunamaria was openly weeping at this point, burying her face into the collar of her borrowed Jacket as she sobbed.

Heinrich was unsure of what to do, rarely having to console a weeping woman. He had seen it many times, seen many widowed wives and orphaned children. Yet he had never had to console them. He reached out his hand and put it onto her shoulder. He was startled when she buried her head in his chest. Seeking human contact and connection, Heinrich realized. He wrapped an arm around her, feeling oddly distant from her distress, yet at the same time feeling oddly protective over the magenta haired girl as compared what he would have viewed as unacceptable weakness in one of his own men. Why was that?

"Listen to my breathing," said Heinrich after Lunamria's sobs had quieted to the occasional sniffle. "Draw it deep into your diaphragm through your nose and hold it. Ready? In. Out. In. Out." Heinrich continued this until Lunamaria's breathing had returned to normal, then continued until her shoulders were no longer hunched and body no longer stiff. Their breathing in sync.

"I think I'm better now, thank you," said Lunamaria, pulling away somewhat awkwardly.

"It was a breathing technique my martial instructor taught to me. I relieves stress and calms the body, allowing you to think clearly. If you find yourself troubled at night or during the day, take five minutes and focus on your breathing. If you would like I could teach you proper meditation techniques as well. When you are troubled it helps to find your center."

"I'll think about it," promised the magenta haired girl absently. "I should be going, see you later sir," said Lunamaria suddenly, coming to attention and snapping off a hasty salute, before giving Heinrich back his coat and leaving him alone on the deck.

Putting his coat back on he realized that it now smelled of the young pilot. It sent a shiver across his neck, but a pleasant one and it was then that Heinrich realized that he was infatuated with the woman. That would not do.

She would be a distraction to his duty, a liability were the Imperium to side with the planetary forces over ZAFT. Even as Heinrich resolved to reign in his more impulsive emotions, he realized that it was a hollow promise. Why did she vex him so? There was no reason for it. He had met many women far more beautiful than her, yet none had ever so unsettled him.

"What is it Sergeant?"

His aide had approached at a sprint, yet his voice was not labored for breath. The heavy thumps of his boots had announced his approach.

"My Lord, a vox transmission from the Angry Beadle."

"What were the contents of the message sergeant?"

"A Valkyrie transport is approaching the Minerva, you are to meet them in the hangar bay sir."

"At what time?"

"At 17:15 my lord, transmission arrived at 17:00."

That gave Heinrich six minutes to the hangar bay. Without another word he took off at a dead run, his long legs carrying him forwards at a ground devouring pace. He nearly bowled over several ZAFT personnel, but he didn't so much as slow.

He made it into the hangar just as the roar of the Valkyrie's engines were dying down to a dull thrum. Heinrich brought himself in line with the craft just as the compartment doors slid back and open.

Heinrich snapped off an immediate salute, his aide doing the same as they saw who was exiting the craft. Lord General Militant Maelius Rossi, supreme commander of the Guard forces in the Shining Pinnacle Crusade Fleet. He advanced wearing a gold gilded fur mantle resting atop of master crafted power armor. Medals from a hundred campaigns decorated the chest of the centuries old Commander. His coterie of officers, aides, commissars, and munitorium officials limited only by the size of what the Valkyrie could carry following in his wake.

"My Lord," said Heinrich, falling to bended knee as had been deemed an appropriate action to take in the presence of the crusade commander.

The Lord Militant merely stared down at the Kreig officer, his face blank and indiscernible. Were Heinrich able to see it, it would tell him nothing.

Without a word, the Lord Militant unbuttoned the epaulettes on Heinrich's shoulders, pulling off the rank tabs and tossed them to the decking. Next, he removed Heinrich's officer cap and tossed it idly to the side.

Reeducation, was the word that passed through Heinrich's mind. So they had grown tired of his continued silence of the letter he had received. Had he failed so greatly as to garner the attention of the Lord Militant? It hardly seemed a matter so important for a man of such a great rank.

"Your rank is wrong," said the Lord Militant gruffly. He held out his power armored hand to the side and one of his aides put two new rank tabs into it. He bent over and slipped the tabs onto Heinrich's epaulettes and rebuttoned them.

"Stand up General, I'm not putting this damned helmet on your head for you."

A feeling similar to an electric shock passed through Heinrich and he rose quickly. In the Lord Militant's aide's hands, was the plumed helm of a Krieg General. Heinrich bowed his head and the gold and silver inlaid ceremonial headgear was placed upon it. The metal plume gleaming in the light of the hangar.

"As the most senior Krieg Guardsman still alive after the debacle at that ZAFT colony, and by privilege of you noble titles, you are being given full command of the 3rd Army. All 120 000 of them. Good luck Grand Lord Baron."

"My Lord, I am honored."

"Don't be. I expect you to work ten times harder for me now. Though for the time being you will remain on board the Minverva. Until I have need of you or you die that is."

"I must confess my Lord, I do not quite understand that order. This is a ZAFT vessel, we can not simply dictate to them that I will remain here. It is...poor etiquette," finished Heinrich, having to search for a softer word to tell the Lord Militant. The phrases arrogant beyond belief, gross overreach of authority, and abusively condescending to Captain Gladys too harsh. Not to mention there was absolutely no reason for him to remain on the Minerva. He should be travelling back to the crusade fleet to get his troops into proper order.

"Then placate them however you see fit. I must return to the Angry Beadle. We've been ordered to regroup with the fleet. Luckily they aren't angry with Captain Lee's actions, but they aren't particularly pleased either. We're leaving a trunk of your personal effects with you as well as new uniform pieces to reflect your new rank. See you another time General."

With a quick salute the Lord Militant departed, his aides leaving a single plain chest for Heinrich containing everything that he would except for a way to actually command and organize his men and a plan to placate a soon to be rightfully outraged naval officer.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

Captain Gladys strode briskly, some would say angrily into the hangar bay, flanked by her XO Arthur and several naval security equivalents from the ZAFT Navy. The look in her eyes was near apocalyptic.

"A complication Captain," began Heinrich in his ever calm voice.

"Complication? A damned Imperial ship ignored our hails and told us, told us that it would be landing in our hangar bay and to make way for the Lord General Militant!" seethed Gladys.

Rossi never was one for diplomacy with those he deemed below his station, thought Heinrich to himself.

"You had better have a good explanation for this Colonel."

"I do, but it will not be a very satisfactory one Captain."

"Try me."

"I have been ordered to remain aboard the Minerva for the forseeable future Captain."

"Nobody has the authority to place anyone on my ship but ZAFT High Command and nobody but me has the authority to pilot a craft aboard my ship without my express permission. Nobody Colonel."

"I am very much aware of your authority aboard your ship Captain, and your outrage is well justified, warranted even, but I am afraid that I must beg your clemency for this transgression and betrayal of your hospitality. I would call it nigh inexcusable even. It pains me to ask this of you, especially at a time like this Captain, but I would be forever grateful were you to extend your invitation of hospitality until such a time that I am allowed to depart from your ship."

"Absolutely not. You will remove yourself from my ship immediately. Call the Angry Beadle and have them send a shuttle down for you."

"I regret to inform you, but the Angry Beadle is setting immediate course for the rest of the Crusade Fleet. I am afraid that they will not be within hailing range for much longer, nor will they respond to any such communications."

"Then I'll drop you off at the nearest port and you can be retrieved at a later date. Your stay onboard the Minerva has come to an end and you are no longer my concern."

"I am afraid that doing such a thing would require me to disobey a direct order from a superior officer. That is not something that I can do Captain, it would be dereliction of duty."

"That is not my concern Colonel," said Gladys, standing a scant few paces from the Krieg General.

"No. No of course not Captain. It is my decisions that have led to this outcome. I cannot leave your ship without disobeying my superiors, but I will not disrespect you by remaining against your wishes. I have a resolution that should satisfy all parties involved while preserving both the honor of the Imperial Guard and that of ZAFT. Thank you for your hospitality Captain, you were a most gracious host. Please, do not hold this against the Imperium or the Death Korps. I wish you luck in the battles to come. The Emperor protects."

There was a confused look on Gladys' face at the Imperial's words, but it quickly twisted into alarm as the Krieg Officer drew his saber, snapping the metal wires holding it in place like gossamer strands.

It was a meter long blade of flawless metal that shimmered and shone like a diamond in the light of the hangar. Completely unmarred and unblemished despite its great age and heavy use. It seemed to almost come alive as it cleared its sheath, like it possessed a mind of its own. Gotterdammerung, the 10 000 year old ancestral sword of the von Shreider family.

With a snap-hiss electric blue fire covered the length of the blade and rifles were leveled at the Krieg officer, ordering him to drop the blade. Yet, with a graceful flourish, it was reversed, the point of the blade aiming at the Krieger's heart.

"No, wait!" cried out Gladys, pulling at Heinrich's arm as he thrust the blade into his chest. The ancient weapon passing through master crafted armor and flesh as if they were no more than air. Stopping only when the hilt struck the chestplate of Heinrich's carapace armor.

A soft exhale was all the sound that escaped Heinrich's mouth as he fell to his knees, blood dribbling past his lips as his eyes began to dim. The steely fire behind his gray eyes going out. Gotterdammerung guttering out as if disgusted that it had been used to take the life of its wielder.

"G-get a med team in here now!" sputtered Gladys, watching a man die in front of her.

"The General has made his decision Captain," said the Death Korps Sergeant, voice betraying his youth even with his mask in place, even as he held back two full grown men from helping Heinrich.

"He is complying with your orders while at the same time preserving his honor and that of the Death Korps. He was only allowed to leave once ordered or else deceased. You ordered him off of your ship. He does you a great honor by following your wishes Ma'am. I must echo my General's sentiments and wish you well in your future battles Ma'am."

The Krieg Sergeant pushed the two guards to the ground roughly, but not before taking the sidearm from one and placing it underneath his chin where there was no armor, flicking the safety off with a click.

"YOU CAN STAY! YOU CAN BOTH STAY!" Cried Gladys, desperately trying to avert a double suicide on her ship.

Like nothing had happened the Krieg Sergeant put the pistol back on safe and offered it back to the guard he had pushed to the ground.

"Then my General needs immediate medical attention Ma'am and extra care must be taken with the blade. Were the edge pointed downwards, its own weight would cause it to cleave him in half. My General has little time Ma'am," offered the Krieg Sergeant helpfully.

Xxx

"Pierre, don't tell me that you're getting cold feet now, we're so close to achieving out goal now."

Djibril finished his morning coffee in one large swig, only to have it immediately refilled by the raven-haired sororitas at standing obediently at his side. Eyes still closed and hands immediately re-clasping after filling Djbril's cup.

"It's not cold feet Djibril, you're simply insane. I hate coordinators as much as the next human, but what you're proposing is suicide. If it fails we won't be able to stop a retaliatory strike. They could nuke us into oblivion, or maybe they've got another of that weapon they had at the end of the last war. Even if there wasn't that possibility, you are suggesting genocide Djibril. You're not talking about hitting the military colonies, but the November ones as well. Those are full of children Djibril."

"Full of coordinators that will one day grow up into the monsters that their parents are. When you clear an infestation you don't just kill the cockroaches, you clear out the eggs and larvae as well so that the infestation doesn't just return as strong a few months later. If you don't have the stomach for this Pierre, then maybe Logos doesn't have room for you."

"No Djibril, Logos has no room for someone like you."

The door to Djibril's office opened and two men in black suits entered, shutting the door behind them.

"They're you're men Djibril, but I've paid them enough so that they're mine now. Your mad scheme ends here. I would say that I'm sorry that it had to come to this, but I never really liked you. Kill him."

"You bastard!" cursed Djibril, eyes going wide in fear, while the Sororitas at his side finally opened hers.

One of the black suited bodyguards drew his pistol and fired point blank at Djibril, but the bullet never found its mark.

The Sororitas had kicked out Djibirl's chair from under him, causing him to fall and the bullet crack the bullet proof window behind him instead. Then she sprang into action.

She moved like a demon, something not entirely human, dodging from side to side as the black suited bodyguard tried to shoot her. Then she was upon him.

A spray of crimson decorated the wall from the man's throat by virtue of a blade that had filled the woman's hand as if from nothing. She then launched herself into the second man fumbling for his own weapon, breaking his wrist, nearly tearing his hand from his arm as she took it from his grasp, before bisecting him like a cadaver.

The door to the office burst open and a third dark suited guard entered, this one holding an automatic rifle low and bringing it in line with the Sororitas.

She leaped into the air like an acrobat, avoiding a barrage of bullets, before using her weight to bring the man down underneath her, a quick strike severing the mans spinal cord and ending him life. Throwing herself into a handspring, the Sororitas spun gracefully through the air to Pierre, grabbing the elderly Frenchman by the jaw and putting her blade to her throat.

Djibril was standing now, the gunfire having ceased and saw a visibly sweating Pierre with a blade to his throat. His loaned servant holding the wicked looking weapon to him, her eyes a glittering gold in color, almost seeming to emanate their own light and looking hauntingly familiar.

Djbril was a man who had gotten to where he was, because he could read and play people like an instrument. And now for all the world it looked like she was looking to him for direction, like she truly was his servant. Perhaps now was the time to test the limits of her obedience.

"Kill him," was all Djibril said and so fast did the blade move that he almost missed it. She sunk it into the jugular in the side of the neck before forcing the blade forwards, taking out all major blood vessels and windpipe in one clean stroke, her expression never changing. Blade disappearing as if it was never there. Pierre's eyes going wide and mouth working to get air that would never come.

"Who are you exactly?" asked Djibril, more curious than anything.

The dark haired sororitas, if that was what she was said not a word, never even broke Djibril's gaze with her glittering gold eyes as she held her fingers to the blood flowing from Pierre's neck. Taking her wet fingers she used them to draw lines from the corners of her mouth upwards into a theatrical expression of joy.

AN: Well short and sweet, I'm working all weekend and wanted to get this out so that I wouldn't put it off and make people wait too long. I hope that Lunamaria didn't seem to cheesy and seemed more like she was actually trying to deal with how easy death can come and I hope that I've continued to convey Heinrich like the proper and honorable Imperial officer that he is. Also now you all know who Dabria is and she's met Djibril before. (In a way :) Also please keep reviewing since it's like cocaine to me (and keep arguments to a minimum please)