AN: Before I start I just want to say thanks for coming back and reading the story even after long delays.

Consciousness was slow to come. It came in waves and flashes, enough to allow Heinrich to see, but not to be aware. Lucidity remaining coy and dancing just out of reach. He had no way of knowing how long he stayed like this. It could have just as easily been an hour as a month. There was no way to measure the passage of time as it slipped by him. When Heinrich did finally become aware, he very nearly fell asleep again, but fought against it as hard as he would any other enemy.

Slowly his blurry vision cleared and he became more aware of his own body. The numbness and swath of bandages over top of his chest and on his back, making it feel like his entire abdomen was asleep like an arm he had been laying on, though still very much alive much to his surprise. The steady beeping of an ECG monitor a testament to his continued existence. Any movement of his arms pulled sharply at his chest where he had plunged Gotterdammerung.

Looking at the swath of gauze, it was clear that his blade had hit lower than he had intended it to. He replayed the scene in his mind and remembered Captain Gladys reaching for his arm and attempting to stop him. It had lowered the blade just enough to spare his life. A pity, they had denied him the chance for a dignified death and the embarrassment from not even being able to die properly would grate on him for some time.

Standing a few feet from the foot of his bed was his ever-faithful sergeant at parade ground rest.

"Sergeant, why are we still alive? I thought my intentions were clear," spoke Heinrich. Instantly the sergeant came to attention and did an about turn to face him.

"Sir, the situation changed after you were incapacitated. The Captain of the Minerva altered her orders upon you receiving your wound sir. We are now allowed to stay aboard this ship indefinitely should we so choose."

"I see. Sergeant my clothes."

"At once Lord," said the sergeant obediently, taking a freshly pressed uniform off of a rack and preparing it for his general.

Heinrich sat up somewhat gingerly, before dressing himself, with some assistance and detaching the IV tubes and monitoring equipment. The ECG beeped in a solid droll tone in alarm before Heinrich had his Sergeant turn it off.

Standing made Heinrich feel faint, his vision darkening, but he fought it off and everything slowly came back into focus. Waving off attempts from his Sergeant to aide him.

Once fully clothed and armored, Heinrich secured Gotterdammerung to his waist, surprised that he had been allowed to retain a weapon after the incident in the hangar.

"Sergeant, where is the Captain located?"

"In her quarters my Lord."

"Where are we currently?"

"The Minerva is currently in drydock in the country of Orb receiving repairs."

"I see. Who treated my wounds? I wish to thank the ZAFT surgeon responsible for their efforts."

"ZAFT treated your wounds initially my Lord, however, they were not the ones to finish your treatment."

"Then who was?" asked Heinrich perplexed.

"Answer: I was the one to treat your wounds Grand Lord Baron."

It was a voice more machine than man, robotic and deep, it lacked all emotion and harmony of an organic voice. Yet Heinrich recognized it immediately. Archmagos Grozdan of the Adeptus Biologis.

The Archmagos made himself known, moving silently inside the medical bay, body completely covered in crimson red robes. A multitude of red eyes peering out from within the gloom of his hood.

"Interrogative: how are you feeling Grand Lord Baron?"

"Alive Archmagos. It appears that I have you to thank for that. Tell me though, how is it that you came aboard the Minerva?"

"Answer: upon receiving contact report from Sergeant Klaus 0384 it was deemed imperative that your health be restored and life preserved."

"Imperative by who?"

There was a silence for a while, broken only by the quiet humming of machinery from Grozdan himself.

"Answer: by myself Grand Lord Baron. Your contributions to our temple has been essential to our research and pursuit of glory in the name of the Omnissiah. Your patronage would be irreplaceable, as well as the rapport established between us. It would be distressing to lose you."

So far as tech priests went, that was one basically saying that aside from the logical reasons to keep Heinrich alive, he did it because he would miss him if he died. It was really rather touching.

"And Captain Gladys just let you onboard?"

"Reply: Upon receiving transmission of a medical team inbound I was granted permission to land. I was not what they had expected."

"Those who do not know the glory of the Omnissiah cannot fully understand his gifts."

"Concordance: many who have not embraced the gifts of the Omnissiah reject them out of fear. Apology: I will not be able to leave for some time I am afraid. The Adeptus Mechanicus and by extension the Biologis are being held back from the planet body by order of Lord General Militant Rossi."

"Yet you still came Archmagos."

"Answer: I make my own decisions Grand Lord Baron. Adulation: congratulations on your promotion to General."

"The Emperor has deemed that I may be of further use to him and through the Omnissiah has seen to it that I continue to do so."

"Agreement: the Emperor protects. Concern: in regards to the treatment abnormalities were found."

"What sort of abnormalities?"

"Answer: Healing of your body is accelerated. 6.5 times the normal rate for a male of your age and physical condition. Increased strength is in accordance with the phenomenon affecting Imperial personnel, though slightly greater. Long term effects of these changes on Imperial physiology are unknown, though appear to not be malignant."

"I see. Thank you for the information Archmagos, it is most welcome."

"Response: knowledge is power, guard it well Grand Lord Baron. There is also another matter Grand Lord Baron. I brought with me several of your men, one of which was nominated to serve as your top NCO of the 3rd army. Regimental Watchmaster Arnold. I have a file on him if you so wish it."

"No, I know who HS-32-03-10-02-2312-Arnold is Archmagos, it is unnecessary."

Yes Heinrich knew who the Watchmaster was indeed. A Krieger with 30 years of combat experience in the regiments of the Death Korps. A Krieger who had survived being in both the assault and demolition companies who were famed even in the Death Korps for their losses and earned the silver death heads of the grenadiers. The consummate Krieger.

"Where are the rest of my men at the moment?"

"Answer: They are off of the Minerva at the moment ensuring the safety of its pilots."

"The reason for this?"

"Answer: the destruction of so much senior leadership in the Korps command structure is leading to administrative and tactical problems as junior officers are promoted beyond or to the limits of their abilities. Were you to die those problems would only worsen. Hostilities are likely to commence with a 94.5% probability and if the Minerva's pilots are injured or killed your odds of survival fall to unacceptable levels."

The walk to Captain Gladys' quarters was not an overly long one and Heinrich arrived in short order. Wearing his new General's uniform and officer cap he raised one of his large hands and knocked politely on the door.

There was muffled movement on the inside and then with a whoosh the door opened, revealing the surprised face of Talia Gladys.

"Captain," said Heinrich promptly, snapping off a salute to the ZAFT officer and her returning it by reflex.

"General, I didn't expect to see you standing so soon. I was told that you would be lucky to survive the week," said the ZAFT officer.

"Imperial technology is most marvelous when concerned with healing Captain. I felt that I needed to come here and apologize for causing distress to you and creating turmoil on your ship. My intention was not to convince you to allow me to stay through drastic action, but rather remove the conflict entirely from your vessel. I pray that you understand I meant no insult or offense, but rather I tried to honor both your wishes and respect the sovereignty of ZAFT."

"The sentiment is appreciated," said Gladys slowly, as if choosing her words carefully as to prevent a repeat of what had occurred in the hangar and have to explain how a foreign General had managed to die on her ship. "But whatever situations we encounter in the future I would like you to know that you taking your life in an effort to appease me or preserve honor is the absolute last thing I want to occur."

"As you wish ma'am. I am a guest aboard your ship and will comply with all requests and demands that you would have of me."

"I'm glad. General, if you could I would also like you to let me know what you know about the drop in progress."

"What drop?" asked Heinrich perplexed.

Xxx

"Lightbringer in position."

"Absolution in position."

"Warmonger in position."

"Righteous Fury in position."

"Pilgrim in position."

"Seraphim in position."

"Vengeance in position."

"Angry Beadle in position."

"Holy Wrath in position."

"All ships, this is the Insurmountable Glory. Continue screening action, drop will commence in twenty. Insurmountable Glory out."

Captain Lee surveyed the scene around him with interest. Although they were close together in terms of space warfare, were he to look out a viewport he may be able to make out a dark speck against the planet's surface that would indicate perhaps one of the mighty Imperial ships of war that were even now in high planetary orbit above Earth. Or at least what the system inhabitants called Earth.

Were he to read the auspex sensors aboard his bridge he would see a very different picture. A dozen Imperial capital ships surrounded by twice as many escort ships with thousands of fighter craft circling like a school of hungry fish. In the center he would find the transports, filled to the brim with Guardsmen and equipment, preparing to land in their massive regimental landers.

"My Lord, final preparations are complete, waiting on word from the Insurmountable Glory."

"Very good. Make sure that the Guard commanders understand that they are to ensure their men remain strapped in until planetfall," said Lee.

"Aye aye Lord."

"Lord, word from the Insurmountable Glory. Prophet. I say again, prophet."

"That's the signal, clear the Devourers for launch. For the Emperor."

"Aye aye Lord, for the Emperor."

The Imperial transports opened up like bursting spores, releasing clouds of dropships that when formed together were visible against the blue of the planet before them. The heat of reentry casting them in a bloody hue. A stream of black and red entering the planet like an unstoppable tidal wave. It was an impressive sight, what ten million guardsmen deploying all at once looked like.

"This is Lord Admiral Harada of the Insurmountable Glory. Command of task force Basilisk is hereby transferred to Lord General Delacroix. Bring the Emperor's light and glory to this world, for you are the heralds of the Imperium. We shall have no fear, for the Emperor is with us and he is invincible. Our faith is our shield and our sword. We carry both with us into this noble task we now undertake. You will heal the wounds of the world through the light of the Emperor. Let them know his glory through you."

xxx

Hanoi was in complete shambles after the fall of Junius 7. A piece of debris had hit in the city center with mega tonnes of force. Those closest to the impact crater had been killed instantly, vaporized by the energy released on impact. The shock from the planet strike had succeeded in collapsing nearly every skyscraper in the city or else leaving them hollow husks. Trapping those unlucky enough to have manged to survive the collapse under thousands of tonnes of concrete and steel. Those buildings further away or else sheltered from the impact were without power, water, and all had damage to some varying degree. Many were uninhabitable. Ruptured sewer mains meant that disease was rampant and with water unavailable, fires still burned freely, consuming entire blocks of the city in roaring flame. Only adding to the confusion and ever growing death toll.

The wounded roamed the streets aimlessly. Tatters of clothing still clinging to them, some too shell shocked to realized that they had broken or missing limbs entirely. Those lucky enough to stumble across aid or emergency workers were given whatever limited care that could be mustered or spared, but relief efforts were stretched past the breaking point. Much of the government and military hierarchy of the Equatorial Union having been wiped out during the initial impact and what relief efforts that could be coordinated were being centered on the Indian Subcontinent where the industrial, political, and civil heartland of the union was.

Chi Nguyen was one such aid worker mobilized, or rather self mobilized to help in the relief efforts. He was a paramedic and served out of Hanoi General Hospital, or had before it had been vaporized in the impact.

They had few doctors and finding sterile equipment was near impossible. They used alcohol to keep their surgical tools clean, but even that was running out and Chi feared that many of those that they treated would soon be facing infection or worse. Those that they didn't treat fared worse though. Their wounds festered, flesh went gangrenous, and unset bones continued to rip and tear the flesh around it.

They were even having to ration down their food to near starvation levels, because with Junius 7 falling, the global distribution and trade system that they had grown to rely on had been completely severed. Roads, freeways, overpasses, and even railways had been nearly entirely obliterated Even finding enough drinking water was proving to be near impossible and if they couldn't remedy that soon, they'd have more casualties from dehydration and heat than another colony falling onto them.

Chi was wrapping a whimpering boy's burned arm who was perhaps nine in what little remained of his clean bandages. It was hard work, not least of which for Chi. He had no pain killers to give the boy, what little he had left he hoarded jealously for something far more serious. Another time it would have gnawed at him to be unable to help, but now he was just too tired and the boy just another victim in need of his help before he could move onto the next.

The area around Chi darkened and he blinked several times to clear his vision, the lack of sleep finally getting to him. Instead though, the area around him darkened like a cloud was blocking out the sun.

He heard cries of alarm from both the assembled wounded and those meant to be treating them. The alarm soon turning to panic and then pandemonium.

Looking to the sky, Chi saw why, but was too tired to care. It was more debris falling down, the heat of re-entry making them glow bright red. Covering the sky for as far as he could see, this time it would be the end of them.

As people screamed and nearly trampled each other in their attempts to escape, Chi merely watched their impending doom rain down from above. Only thing being though, they were slowing down.

Soon they no longer trailed red from heat and their descent began to slow, before their shape became more distinguishable. Not pieces of rock or fragments of a colony, but ships. Bulky, big ships, but still they were spacecraft, and they darkened the sky.

As they approached, the smaller craft darted below the larger, flying over the ruins of Hanoi. Crisscrossing paths with each other like worker bees in a hive. Then, he saw them begin landing on the outskirts of the city, in the parks, wherever there was large and open spaces. They set off flares and from the distance that Chi was at, he guessed that they were setting up some kind of beacons. Then the larger ships began to land.

As large as cruise ships, perhaps larger, filling the air with the deep roar of their engines. They touched down heavily, digging into the soft soil. One such ship touching down a scant hundred meters from Chi's position.

It stayed immobile for a few moments, and then the front began to open and spread out like a flower, or perhaps the maw of some terrible beast.

Once the steel ramp had touched the ground, the rumble of dozens of smaller engines came to life and columns of vehicles began to pour out of the ship.

Tracked APCs and IFVs, wheeled jeeps and heavy transport trucks trundled down the ramp, quickly forming into convoys. Stylized skulls and double-headed eagles adorned the flanks of the vehicles and the landing ship itself. Armed and armored soldiers with dark visors extending from their helmets over their eyes rode both in and atop the vehicles, or else manned pintle mounted weapons. Bringing up the rear were boxy, awkward looking tanks with a multitude of guns and cannons sticking out of them.

Invasion, was the thought that passed through Chi's mind. Part of him was terrified, but the rest of him simply didn't care anymore. Let them inherit this mess, they could have it. Still, he couldn't help but feel his fear grow as the Imperials as he remembered them being called set up a cordon around their makeshift aid station. The ramshackle tent without walls that Chi was standing in suddenly feeling entirely too fragile.

One of the tracked vehicles pulled up alongside Chi, coming to a halt and the back ramp lowering to the ground. Several men exited the back of the vehicle in jungle fatigues, weapons at the ready. The most senior looking of which approached Chi.

"Hello, are you the one in charge here?" asked the man friendly enough.

Chi looked around at the overworked and overtired aid workers around him and half dead patients either too tired or else too ill to have fled with the others.

"I suppose so."

"It's a pleasure to meet you then, I'm Colonel Jansen of the 93rd Vlandeeren mixed medical regiment. We've got food, supplies, water, and doctors. Where do you need us?"

It was then that Chi realized what the regiment was doing as they rapidly set up long rows of mod tents and set up generators. They were establishing a field hospital, and their large cargo trucks were stacked to the brim with medical supplies. Chi couldn't help but smile.

xxx

"Well played Hassan, already coddling up to the people of Earth are you? Not too different from Durandal" mused Djibril as every news outlet was showing the same thing. Millions of Imperials had come down to the planets surface in the hardest hit areas of the world and were providing food, water, shelter, medical treatment, and security to those most affected by the coordinator attack.

Their efficiency and speed in which they had established themselves was almost frightening. A well trained, well versed, and well disciplined military. One which the people of Earth had welcomed into their midst with open arms. Such utter fools. The Imperials were more monster than the coordinators most likely. Their strength was unnatural yet nobody seemed willing to question it. How one Imperial could overpower 4 men should have raised alarm amongst the populace, but instead they welcomed them as saviors.

Already they had fended off several coordinator terrorist attacks, the most famous of which was the one in New York where a single Imperial tank had destroyed two mobilesuits and damaged a third. The crew of that tank, the commander in particular had become something of a celebrity. The most famous picture that was circulating on nearly every news station in the Atlantic Federation was a closeup of the commander standing up in the turret of her tank in the lashing rain grasping the boom mike attached to her helmet, and yelling orders as a GINN advanced on her amidst burning EA tanks.

She was beautiful too for what it was worth and people loved beautiful people. No doubt it was a veneer to hide the monster underneath.

Djibril stood still as his loaned Sororitas tied his bow tie around his neck with deft manipulations of her fingers and straightened out his suit for him with the skill of a master tailor.

She was beautiful too. Long raven black hair framing a pale face with glittering gold eyes perched above a fleur de leis tattoo on her cheek hidden by a skillful application of makeup and full pink lips. Dressed as she was in a sleeveless and flowing crimson dress that clung to her hourglass form, she would be the desire of any man. Yet beneath the beauty laid a skilled killer merely needing the barest of prodding from Djibril to showcase her skills.

"Well another boring function to attend I suppose, do try to look cheerful Dabria," said Djibril.

Like a switch had been flipped Dabria's entire demeanor changed. It went from that of some lethal feline stalking its prey, to that of a kind, if somewhat shy woman. Her eyes diamond hard eyes seemed to soften, her posture relaxed, and her emotionless face became open and inviting. It was all just through changes in body language, but it was still somewhat jarring for Djibril to witness.

"Shall we?"

Dabria clung to his arm as the door to his limo was opened and they began the long trek up the white house steps.

It was a benefit dinner for those affected by the Break the World incident as people were calling it now instead of the Coordinator attack that it was. The who's who from the Atlantic Federation were all here to self aggrandize even as they pledged and asked support for those most in need as a result of Junius falling. Industry leaders, pop stars, actors, anyone with money and a large enough following to be considered important enough to warrant an invitation.

All in all it was normally a tedious affair, but this time was different. This time he had a mission to accomplish and he put his considerable skills to use to see to those ends.

He cajoled, flattered, and manipulated those he met to fit his plans. He needed backing. More than ever he needed to people of Earth to be behind their governments when they declared war on the Coordinators. LOGOS was powerful to be sure, but it wasn't all powerful. It needed more voices to reach peoples ears and bring them to their cause.

These singers and actors, people who made a living playing make believe or else wasting away their days secure in the knowledge that they were the most favored jester in the court held enormous sway over the people. Their fans who hung on their every word and if coaxed enough, could be convinced to let their followers know exactly who was responsible for all the suffering that so many of them were experiencing.

"Damned Equatorial Union will never join up with us, not so long as Singh is in charge. Pacifist to the core," grumbled General Stuart to Djibril after they had finished exchanging pleasantries.

"Kaleka on the other hand is a man of action. He'd throw everything that the Union could scrounge together at ZAFT given the chance. Problem being is that he's still ten spots down in the line of succession. Damned unfortunate."

"Yes. Quite," said Djibril, unable to hide a smile as he looked down at Dabria.

Xxx

"Here, let me fix it," said Selena, ignoring the protests of the other woman and with a liberal application of gel held back the unruly strand of red hair that never wanted to stay in place.

"There, now you're ready for an award," smiled Selena at the scowling Rachael.

They were all garbed in their dress uniforms, complete with tan tanker berets. Boots polished to a high sheen and brass cap badges done the same. Selena having her red sergeant's sash over her dress tunic and her normally wild blonde hair gelled back into place and combed neatly.

"I hate getting awards," huffed Rachael.

"That's just because you have to dress up nice to get them," countered Selena.

"And listen to people talk for too long about things that don't matter and make things really awkward for the ones getting the award. I don't even know why we're getting one."

"They're civvies. Civvies love people who blow the shit out of people who are trying to do the same to them. They also love to celebrate said people with overly large parades and awards ceremonies that make them feel good for putting on. Now come on, show me your happy face!"

Rachael gave an overly bright and overly fake smile to Selena.

"There you are, you're ready now."

"Almost ready for the armored shuffle," muttered Rachael.

"You know, that's a good idea," toyed Selena to an eye-rolling Rachael.

"What's the armored shuffle?" asked Lisa perplexed.

"What?! You don't know the armored shuffle?" said Selena incredulous.

The brunette Cadian merely shook her head.

"I can't believe that they don't teach the armored shuffle anymore," continued Selena, sounding genuinely upset about the fact.

"It's not a big deal," offered Rachael.

"Oh no, it's tradition, we've got to teach her how to do it."

"Do what?" asked Lisa.

"The armored shuffle," said Selena again. "Every graduate from the Cadian Armor school gets to learn it, it's tradition," continued the blonde in a huff.

"Here we go," said Rachael with a weary sigh.

"Come on, you get on Lisa's left and I'll get on her right. Alright, ready Lisa?"

"I guess so."

"That's the spirit! Alright, here we go. Take a step forwards, now take a step back, and clap. Step to the side, step to the other side, and clap. Step your right foot forward, now pull it back. Rotate your hips, no, really put your hips into it," corrected Selena to the youngest member of their crew.

"Now spin, spin, spin, making sure your moving your hand like you've got a lasso, and clap. Okay, all together now."

Soon They had managed to teach Lisa enough of the armored shuffle so that they were all able to do it in step and in sync.

"Um Sarge," said Rachael, sounding unnerved.

"What?" asked Selena, stopping the dance to see where Rachael was pointing. On the large screen where a picture of the President of the Atlantic Federation had been showing, now instead showed the crew of the Two For Flinching and most likely the dance that they had been doing. A man holding a large news camera recording from his perch above into the area behind the stage where the Two For Flinching crew were set to receive their awards.

"Oh, well I suppose we should give them a show," mused Selena.

"What?" asked Rachael sounding horrified.

"No, no it'll be fun," assured Selena. "Here get into line on either side of me. That's an order corporal," said the blonde to the reluctant Cadian as she got them all into line facing the cameraman.

"Ready? Alright everyone, armored shuffle, and put your ass into it." and so the tradition of the armored shuffle was broadcast to the whole of the Atlantic Federation ensuring that Rachael's embarrassment would live on for generations to come. Her face well on its way to matching her hair in color.

Xxx

Lunamaria stared at a tv screen in something like horrified fascination as she saw Imperial tanks and infantry fighting ZAFT made mobilesuits as they fended off terrorist attacks. They were using the old GINNs and DINNs that the group who had pushed Junius 7 off course had, but weren't nearly as good and it was readily apparent in the brief clips of footage that were being shown.

Every news channel was full of it, or else the relief efforts going on around the world. Specifically in the Equatorial Union where the Imperials were most heavily concentrated. Lunamaria almost choked on her iced tea when she saw two Imperial infantry soldiers lift a car off of an injured man. There was no way that was real.

Wanting to see some better news and not all of the doom and gloom she switched the channel to a PLANT channel. She was rather surprised when she saw what could only be an Imperial Navy Officer and a coordinator woman sitting in chairs opposite the hostess.

"So how did you two meet?"

"Well, it's rather a simple story. I'm an officer from the ship Unyielding Courage and we were docked at Aprilius, ferrying diplomats back and forth. I was hungry so I went to the local cafe where Veronica was working and-"

"He completely forgot about his food," said the black haired woman, giggling and smiling widely as she did so. "I think he wanted to eat me up instead."

"I wasn't that bad."

"Oh yes you were Dmitri. Miss, do you know where I can buy a book? Miss, do you know where the nearest supply store is? Miss, what would you recommend to buy? Miss, do you know how to work this phone? Could you show me please? We could do it over coffee. Oh miss," continued the woman, smiling, even as she made the Imperial blush.

"So what made the connection for you two then?" interrupted the host.

"Well, Veronica and I both share a passion for birds. I've gotten a fairly large collection over the years, from several worlds and we made a bit of a date out of it. Then, we just sort of connected."

"Was there any difficulty with her being a Coordinator and you a Natural?"

"Well I wouldn't really say Natural since we're different slightly from the people on the planet, but there was definitely an adjustment phase for sure. I felt like a child next to Veronica honestly."

"A very naughty child maybe," teased the dark-haired woman, stroking the mans arm.

"You certainly did get busy," added the host."

"Ha, yeah, we did," agreed the Imperial blushing.

"When did the marriage take place?"

"About a month after we met. It was an Imperial Creed ceremony since that I wasn't really religious and it made Dmitri happy."

"The Imperium doesn't recognize a marriage that isn't ordained by the Emperor, and I wanted everyone to know that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together."

"So when did the little ones come into the picture?" prodded the host with a grin.

"Well we-me and Dmitri both wanted kids. I mean it's hard finding a guy willing to commit to that on the PLANTs, but Dmitri comes from a big family."

"Seven brothers, seven sisters," added the naval officer helpfully.

"And I've always wanted to be a mom. I've tried to get pregnant before on my own through artificial insemination, but, well, they said I would never have kids. That I was too infertile," said Veronica sounding morose and the naval officer putting a comforting arm around her.

"So we did all the fertility treatments that people do on the PLANTs when they're trying to have kids. The extra eggs, the injections, everything. Then, well, we tried our luck."

"A lot," added the naval officer trying not to grin.

"And?" asked the hostess, seemingly genuinely interested.

"Well, it seems we jumped the gun a little. All the eggs took and we now have 12 children. Seven girls and five boys."

"All Coordinators?" asked the hostess.

"Yes. Dmitri and I talked about it and we agreed to have all of them be Coordinators."

"And this was okay with you?" prodded the hostess.

"Whether Coordinator or not they're still my children and they've been born and baptized under the Emperor's light. They're safe and healthy and that's all that matters to me. Plus it made Veronica happy so I'm happy. Hopefully they take after their mother in looks and brains."

"Oh you're not too hard to look at admonished Veronica."

"Twelve kids! Can you imagine?" asked Meyrin incredulous, breaking Lunamaria's concentration.

"No, I can't."

"Usually coordinators have don't get that lucky when it comes to kids, but I mean twelve. Yeesh."

"Yeah."

"What's up with you Luna? You've been all distant lately," said Meyrin, the redhead scowling even as she drank from a supersized soda.

"Just been thinking about some things is all," said Lunamaria noncommittally.

"Like that Imperial General?" prodded Meyrin.

"General?" asked Lunamaria confused.

"Yeah, that Imperial got promoted right before he stabbed himself. I heard the Deputy Captain talking about it with some of the other officers. He was ordered to stay on the ship unless they needed him or he died and Gladys wanted him off. He said something about upholding honor and then stabbed himself through the chest. His aide was going to shoot himself until Gladys said that they could stay. They say that he stabbed himself right to the-"

"I just don't know why the hell would he do that! It's so goddamned stupid," seethed Lunamaria banging her fist off the table, her unexpected vehemence startling her sister.

"Well, yeah," agreed Meyrin somewhat awkwardly. "But I mean from what everyone says about how he acts it's not too much of a surprise. I mean he just seems so robotic."

"Not robotic. Just...stoic," said Lunamaria looking for a word that would best be used to describe the Imperial.

"Oh? You're talking like you know him."

"Yes. Well, no. I mean we talked and he was different than what I initially thought of him. I mean, he's disciplined and he's stern for sure, but he, I don't know. He understands dealing with war and he knows what he does and why he does it. I would even say he's kind of wise in his own way. He was also nice, I guess?" added Lunamaria, wondering if it was really kindness on the part of the Imperial or if it was merely being polite.

"What do you mean dealing with war?" asked Meyrin.

"Nothing, forget I said anything," said Lunamaria quickly.

"You know, you've been acting really weird since we left Armory One. Are you sure that you're okay?"

"Meyrin, I'm fine," assured Lunamaria with a smile.

"Maybe you've been bitten by the love bug?" prodded Meyrin, a sly grin on her face.

"What? Don't be ridiculous Meyrin!" said Lunamaria unconvincingly with an airy wave of her hand.

"Oh I don't think it's ridiculous. Does the name Athrun Zala ring any bells? Hmm Lunamaria? A certain ace that piloted a machine you keep a poster of? That Athrun Zala maybe?"

"Come on Meyrin, it was purely professional interest. They guy's an ace, he had a lot of good advice to give."

"He must have had a lot of advice to give then, because you sure managed to spend a lot of time around him."

"He had a lot to say. Battling the Strike, taking down Artemis, fighting in atmosphere, and a lot of stuff that you have to ask the man to find out about all the tricks in his book of secrets little sister."

"Must have been in his back pocket then, which is why you kept staring at his butt right? Purely professional eh? I saw your Spacebook pictures. Those weren't professional big sister."

W-well I mean-you were looking too!" accused Lunamaria pointing a finger even as she blushed bright scarlet.

"I was not!" defended Meyrin in a near shriek, waving her hands like she was trying to ward off danger. "Besides, I wasn't the one hitting on an engaged man and being a homewrecker!"

"Homewrecker?!Who are you calling a homewrecker!?" demanded Lunamaria, the two Hawke sisters glaring daggers at each other and practically nose to nose with each other. Though they loved each other dearly, they could sure get into it with one another.

"Ladies, I will have to ask you to keep it down. You're disturbing the other customers."

"Sorry."

"We'll keep it down," promised Meyrin to the cafe owner. A middle aged woman who gave the two young woman a glare before she left.

"So what about you Meyrin? You thinking about seeing anyone?"

"Well. I mean who would I see? It would be awkward to go out with someone I work with and the Minerva is like any other ship, it just turns into a gossip mill. Speaking of which, guess where Chairman Durandal slept when he was on the Minerva," said Meyrin, leaning in conspiratorially.

"Where?" asked Lunamaria, paying full attention now.

"With Captain Gladys."

"What? No!" said Lunamaria, eyes going wide and covering her mouth, before giggling. "No way!"

"It's true," assured Meyrin. "You'd be surprised what you hear on the bridge when people talk."

"We should do this more often," mused Lunamaria, still giggling.

"Well you could visit me and everyone more often in the common lounge instead of hanging out in the pilots lounge."

"I could," conceded Lunamaria. "But there's free food in the pilots lounge."

"What?! No way! Really?"

"Yeah. We could have to sortie anytime so when we're on call they've got it stocked up with all kinds of stuff. We usually sweet talk Hector from the kitchens and he drops by and cooks us all up whatever we want then we all just hang out and watch movies usually. I mean, unless we're doing PT or we have to write an after action report we don't really have to do anything on the Minerva."

"Oh, lucky," huffed Meyrin.

"That's a lovely coat of jealousy that you're wearing Meyrin."

Meyrin, in a completely measured and mature response stuck out her tongue and stuck up her hands to accentuate the raspberry that she blew her sister. Unfortunately, she bumped the waitress as she was walking by and caused her to drop her tray of flavored ice treats. They hit the table and shattered into red shards and powder.

"Oh, I'm sorry, here, let me help," said Meyrin, helping the woman clean up the mess.

"Lunamaria can you-Lunamaria?" said Meyrin concerned.

Lunamaria was sitting like she was frozen, eyes wide but unseeing and her face turning noticeably green. A look of something like horror on her face. Without a word she stood up and ran to the bathroom.

Lunamaria felt her heart beating like a birds, rapid and fluttery. Her breathing quick and labored, but unable to catch her breath. Her head was swimming, making her feel faint and she felt her nausea grow as she barged her way into a stall and locked the door behind her.

She was seeing in her minds eye the frozen corpses on Junius 7 when she had gone below the surface and how they had shattered into such fine red powder when her Zaku had hit them. Lunamaria bent over the toilet and dry heaved as the images of shattering bodies continued to play over and over in her mind until her mouth filled with saliva and she vomited everything she had eaten into the toilet bowl. Then she vomited again until she was only spewing bile.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," murmured Lunamaria as she clutched at the porcelain seat of the toilet, tears threatening to fall until she wiped them roughly away. She wiped her mouth clean and then flushed the toilet, making sure that she looked presentable before she left the washroom.

"Sorry, something I ate really didn't agree with me," lied Lunamaria smoothly. However, Meyrin looked uncomfortable for another reason.

"Hey Luna, I think we should go," said Meyrin, a tremor in her voice.

"What? Why? Asked Lunamaria, before noticing a table full of Equatorial Union sailors glaring at them. Big men.

"Uh, sure," agreed Lunamaria quickly, throwing money on the table and taking her sister by the wrist as they left the Cafe. The sailors followed them

It was getting late and there wasn't many people around on the streets which Lunamaria was cursing at the moment. Meyrin squeezed her hand like she had done since they were little when she was scared and Lunamaria gave her a squeeze back to let her know that everything was going to be okay.

"Hey, coordinators, you're with ZAFT aren't you?" called the sailors, walking briskly and catching up to the Hawke sisters. Lunamaria pulled her sister into a run and they rounded a corner only to encounter a street fenced off for construction.

"Shit," cursed Lunamaria, turning around only to be confronted by the sailors who had been chasing them.

"I told you that they were ZAFT," said one, tone venemous.

"Bitches are just like the ones that dropped the colony on us," said another.

"Right into the dead end, guess coordinators aren't that smart after all."

"I say we do to them what they did to New Delhi."

"Here, just take it and go," said Lunamaria, taking out her wallet and throwing her money on the ground in front of her. Meyrin quickly following suit, still clinging to Lunamaria's arm like a lifeline.

"You think we want money from you?" asked the one who seemed to be in charge. A burly man with an anchor and mermaid tattoo on his bicep. He kicked the wallets to the side, murder in his eyes.

"You coordinator bitches killed my family! My whole family! We should have fucking killed you while we had the chance in the last war and none of this would have ever happened."

"No! We tried to stop Junius from falling!" protested Meyrin.

"Shut your mouth whore!" shouted the sailor, making Meyrin flinch back like she had been physically struck, then he started towards Meyrin, drawing a large knife as he did so. "I'm done listening to you coordinators, you're nothing but a plague on humanity.

Without thinking, Lunmaria put herself in front of Meyrin shielding her sister with her body and swallowing heavily as she saw how diminutive her 164cm frame was compared to the mountain of muscle coming towards her.

On average a coordinator is slightly stronger than a natural. That is, a natural of the same gender and size, not one an entire foot taller and hundred pounds heavier than the coordinator.

"I would advise against your present course of action sir."

It was a voice with a familiar accent to it, but one that was also nearly flat and lifeless.

Lunamaria looked and for a second thought that she was seeing the Imperial General, but the man was too short and too old. His hair blonde underneath his duty cap and tinged with gray. He had a gray uniform and greatcoat decorated with gold braid and black knee height boots polished to a mirror sheen. On either side of him stood men who if they were any stiller could pass as statues. Both wearing gas masks painted to depict their faces as skulls.

The man walked forwards, the two masked ones flanking him as he advanced, light glinting menacingly off of the silver skulls on the lapel of his tunic, and theirs.

"I am charged with ensuring the safety of these women and those like them. You are endangering my charges, I cannot allow that."

There was something about the man. How he stood, how he acted, the look in his eyes that sent a shiver across Lunamaria's neck. This man was a killer through and through.

"Fuck off unless you want to be next," growled the man with the knife.

"Why not first?" countered the Krieger, walking forward at an almost leisurely pace.

"You want to die?!" demanded the sailor.

"Very much so."

The two masked men behind the blonde Krieger pulled out finely made long double edged fighting knives designed for thrusting, blades glinting menacingly in the light.

"This is your last chance to leave. I suggest that you take it."

The sailors looked amongst themselves and slowly left, walking past the Kriegers, hurling the occasional abuse at them as they left. Once they were gone, the two grenadiers sheathed their blades and returned to a position of attention.

"Apologies Lieutenant Hawke, I kept myself and my men further back to avoid worrying you unnecessarily. Would you like an escort back to the Minerva, or would you and your sister prefer to continue with your leave?"

"I think that we should head back to the Minerva," said Meyrin quickly.

"Very good ma'am. This way please."

xxx

The process as far as Sting could remember it was never a pleasant experience. A cloud of dread would always settle over him as he, Stella, and Auel were led to the medical chamber with the pods. He could never remember exactly why, only that he should try to avoid it as much as possible, though he never did.

When he laid down to sleep he would finally understand why. It was like everything he was, everything he did, everything he knew was sand. Unstable, shifting, temporary, and going through the process would scrape out every last grain of his being until it got to the bare bedrock beneath that was his training, his piloting skills, and whatever else they deemed necessary for him to know. For him to remember. For him to be.

Sting was going through the process again and it was the hell that it was every time he went through it. He was in a blank space of nothingness, the area around him pure white and devoid of everything. The ground beneath him tan sand that was swirling around the center and draining down and away. Exposing more white nothingness with no sense of up or down. No sense of being.

Sting dug at the sand with his hands, trying to scoop it away from the swirling drain that it was being sucked into, but it was futile. He wasn't strong enough. With every second he felt another piece of himself disappearing.

The taste of ice cream. The feeling of soft cotton. His favorite song. Each sensation disappearing with alarming rapidity, leaving despair over the loss, before that too being replaced with a dull sense of emptiness. Like he knew something was missing, something that he had forgotten, but something he would never be able to grasp again.

It was the same every time, so why did he bother to fight it anymore? Why did he bother to dig with his bare hands against the ever shifting sands. It was hopeless.

"...pathetic."

The voice, deep, but distant and layered as if two people were speaking at once sounded through what remained of Sting's mind.

"Who's there?" called out Sting to the blank nothingness, knowing that it was a futile gesture. This was his own mind, his own dream. Why would anyone answer him.

"...weak...pathetic...spineless...unworthy," responded the voice.

"Unacceptable, cowardly, pathetic, spineless, unworthy wretch!" continued the voice, rising in volume and vehemence.

"PATHETIC, WORTHLESS, MAGGOT, UNWORTHY, SPINELESS, COWARD! UNACCEPTABLE!"

The voice boomed out over Sting's consciousness, rebounding louder and louder. The rage within the voice inhuman in its intensity, a physical assault on his being.

"YOU WORTHLESS, SPINELESS, COWARDLY MAGGOT! FIGHT BACK! FIGHT FOR WHAT IS YOURS! FIGHT FOR DOMINION OF YOUR MIND AND SOUL! SHOW YOURSELF WORTHY OF ME!"

"WHO ARE YOU!" shouted Sting within the confines of his mind. Immediately the voice quieted and left Sting with peace, even as he felt what remained of his memories fading away. Then, within the blank nothingness a black specter began to form.

It towered over him like a GUNDAM and that was exactly what it resembled to him. A shifting black outline with red slits where the eyes would be.

"I am you, or at least a part of you now," spoke the black towering colossus, voice no longer a physical expression of rage, though still deep and terrifying. "You have the power within you to fight this, so why don't you?"

"I don't know how," began Sting.

"An insect larvae knows how to fight for its life. Are you saying that you are lower than an insect Sting Oakley? I do not consort with insects. You know how to fight this, it's calling to you if you will just listen to it."

"But how do I fight if I don't even know how to begin or what I'm looking for?"

"I do not consort with insects worm."

The colossus fell silent and merely watched Sting then, its red eyes judging him and watching him sink lower and lower on his ever shrinking mound of memories.

"Listen? Listen to what? I don't know what the hell I'm listening for! This is such bullshit!" cursed Sting. The green-haired youth digging furiously at the draining sand.

"Fuck this, fuck the EA, fuck the naturals, fuck the coordinators, and fuck this bullshit! This is MINE and it will stay MINE!"

Sting let his anger over take him and he dug even faster until it began to strip the flesh from his fingers and blood flowed freely into the sand at his feet, but he continued despite the pain, despite the fatigue. Even if it destroyed him, he would fight for what was his, what he deserved.

Sting grasped something more solid beneath the sand. Something wriggling and rubbery. He pulled with all his might.

The thing was hellishly strong and pulled him forward, creating a furrow in the sands of his memories as his body cut a path through it. Sting refused to let go though, he gripped harder with his bloodied fingers, savaged flesh gripping just as hard as hardened steel.

Sting forced himself to his knees, pulling with every muscle in his body as he fought against the thing trying to drag away his memories. Sting struggled to his haunches, then slowly stood up, forcing the thing up with him.

White tentacles shot out of the sand, wrapping around Sting's limbs and his throat, before the main body of the thing emerged from beneath the draining sands.

It was a smooth, white, squid-like creature that lacked eyes or a mouth. The only thing extending from its conical body were eight white rubbery tentacles.

"So you're the bastard! Come on then! Show me what you've got!"

Sting grabbed hold of one of the tentacles and brought it to his mouth, sinking his teeth into the rubber flesh, drawing brood.

The squid-like being shrieked in pain and lashed out at Sting, wrapping its tentacles around his throat and intending to throttle the life out of him, but Sting just bit down harder. The sour coppery taste of the things blood getting into his mouth.

His vision began to darken as the thing choked the life out of him, but even then he refused to relent. No one would ever make him be their plaything ever again. No one would decide what he would be and what he couldn't. He would fight until his very soul was ripped apart before he would allow that.

That's when he felt it. As death approached, he felt it. A tremor emanating from the center of his being, as if begging to be called upon. To be put to use. Sting reached deep inside of himself and tore at it like a savage animal.

It coursed through him like molten magma, setting every nerve alight with pain, pleasure, and power. Sting grasped at the thing choking him and it began to scream. Smoke and steam came from its body as its pure white form began to blister and burn. Shriveling up like a dried out leaf it turned to ash and blew away.

Still euphoric with the feeling coursing through him, Sting stood up and brought his bloodied hands up like he was lifting something.

The sand at his feet stopped draining and pulsed upwards, like air pockets rushing upwards out of water. It began to rise and swirl around him, raising him up and filling him with all the things that he had forgotten. The smell of the sea. How it felt to pluck guitar strings. The taste of chocolate. It came rushing back in a dizzying blitz of experiences and Sting felt like a god.

Then, just as quickly, blinding pain lanced through his skull and eyes, making everything flash white before turning to black. Sting was unconscious before his knees buckled and he fell back, but he never hit the ground.

The black colossus that appeared to be a mobilesuit caught him long before then. Almost tenderly and held Sting cupped within its massive hands.

"Incredible. Beyond Incredible. You are truly worthy of me...partner."

Sting awoke to alarms blaring and the smell of smoke. The pod that he had been put in had malfunctioned and was opening as medical crews came to rescue him from it. Besides the malfunction though, something was wrong. Something was different. No, not wrong. Everything was as it should be. Sting could remember. He could remember everything.

AN: Well another quick chapter out of the way and I hope that you guys liked it. As always give me feedback and let me know what you think.