PHASE 02

THE HOWLS THAT STAINED THE DUSK

Robert Languish sighed as he drummed his fingers against the side of his rifle, his dark blue eyes cast out across the Indian Ocean as it sparkled in the sunlight above.

He must have been bored if he was gazing at the sea. Australia may be a beautiful place to be sure, but when you spent hours on end by yourself at a tiny outpost of the continent's north-western tip watching out for any signs of a Earth Alliance invasion that never seemed to arrive, even the scenery would eventually get to you.

"Hey little man, I see you,"
Robert jumped as the tower's radio crackled to life, the old soldier swallowing slightly as he found himself staring into the single blood red eye of a GINN from across the open bay windows, another standing just behind it, gazing out towards the desert beyond his home.

"I'm sorry sir," Languish snapped off a salute as he picked up the radio, "I don't get much company out here. Guess I dozed off. How can I help you?"

"Need some ammunition for a live ammo mock battle," the mobile suit stood up to it's full height, indicating slowly to the store houses near the base of the outpost's tower with it's massive rifle, "You got any 500mm rounds in those huts down there?"

"We've got plenty in storage sir," the soldier grinned, "Been holding it for the boys down at Carpentaria," his smile faded slightly as he realised something, "Sir, if I might ask, if you use live ammunition, wouldn't that contradict the terms of a 'mock' battle?"

A dark chuckle echoed across the radio as the soldier found himself staring down the barrel of the GINN's rifle.

"That is would little man, that it would,"

The last thought that went through Robert's mind was how slow the mobile suit seemed to move before the control room of the outpost exploded in an array of glass and mortar.

DATE: DECEMBER TENTH, COSMIC ERA: SIXTY-NINE.

LOCATION: OFFICE OF YURI AMALFI, APRILIUS ONE.

"The YTFA-2 ZuOOT, our first mass production transformable artillery mobile suit. " Yuri Amalfi smiled slightly as I turned my gaze to the nearby screen as the bizarre tank's schematics rotated lazily upon it, "Defence Committee Chairman Zala has requested the 603rd Technical Evaluation Unit test it's usefulness in the field. The Oceania Union has graciously granted us the use of it's territory for your evaluation,"

"Sir, I think there must have been some mistake," I frowned at the screen anxiously, "I mean, with respect, the ZuOOT has already been tested. It was one of the first mobile suits produced following the GINN, but it's tests determined the unit to be unsuitable for mass production,"

"Ezalia said you were a smart one," Amalfi sighed as he ran a hand through his dark brown hair, "Yes it's true, the ZuOOT wasn't given the go-ahead for mass production two years ago, that's why once tests are completed, I want you to just leave the unit in the Australian deserts to rust in piece,"

"Sir…are you telling me this evaluation is no more then an expensive way to get rid of a blemish on ZAFT's factory records?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret Mr. Westfield," The committee member steeped his hands as he studied me, "War is coming. We know it, The Alliance knows it, even the public know it's only a matter of time before one side breaks. Unfortunately what they don't know is that we don't nearly have the same kind of numbers as the Earth Alliance does. When war does break out…not even the council is sure for how long we can hold out.

That's why…this order came from Defence Committee Chairman Zala himself,"

DATE: DECEMBER TWELFTH, COSMIC ERA: SIXTY-NINE

LOCATION: ZAFT VESSEL VALIANT, EARTH ORBIT, GEOSTATIONARY OVER AUSTRALIA.

So here we were, two days later, the ZuOOT restrained within our launch bay, ready to make possibly one of the most useless evaluations of our careers.

The ZuOOT itself was an ugly machine. A crimson mech that looked as though someone hand taken a GINN, sawn it's legs off and replaced them with the treads of a linear tank, before fixing four cannons (two on each side) to it's shoulders as a last minute addition.

"A deployment for the sake of deployment," I sighed mentally as I leaned against the observation lounge's window, "It doesn't matter if the ZuOOT is useful or not, this entire mission is just a diversion from the fact we don't have enough men. Is that what the Technical Evaluation Units are to those pencil pushers? Just another tool of propaganda?"

"Hey? Heey? Hey soldier, wake up!"

I blinked as something bounced off the side of my head, spilling a dark green substance from it's narrow white container as it floated away in zero gravity, it's owner regarding me with mild amusement.

He couldn't have been too far into his forties, his tanned skin marred by a large scar that streaked across the left side of his face.

His dark thinning hair was slicked back across his skull, giving it a strange spiked look, coupled with the short dirty goatee that adorned his chin, bright blue eyes matching the smirk that graced his lips.

"You in charge around here?" the elder man turned his gaze to the thin object he'd flicked at me, "I've been assigned as the pilot of the ZuOOT, for what it's worth. Demetrius Soran," he cast a lazy salute in my direction, "at your service,"

"Marcus Westfield," My hand came to my forehead in salute, "I'm sorry, but if you're reporting in, you'll need Commander Michaels, she deals with all the mobile suit pilots aboard the Valiant,"

"Ah, I see," Soran sighed as he shook the box in his hand, another thin tube escaping it's confines, "You want one?"

I blinked down at the box with surprise, before quickly glancing at the object he'd flicked at me as it sailed past my nose.

A cigarette.

"No thanks," I winced slightly as he fished a light from a pouch on his belt, "I don't smoke,"

"Who does these days?" Demetrius grinned as he pulled the cigarette from the box with his teeth, "What with all this junk about cancer and stuff. Doesn't bother me though,"

"It's true though isn't it?"

"Oh sure it is," the greencoat smirked as he lit up, "But I'm a soldier kid. Chances are it'll be a bullet rather then one of these things that'll finish me off," he blew a puff of smoke into the air, the vapour hanging lazily in the low gravity before he waved it away, "May as well risk the cancer while I'm still here eh?"

I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the smell of tobacco as my new comrade pushed himself off the wall towards the window.

"So, how's this guy doing after two years in mothballs?"

"As well as to be expected," I turned my gaze to the mobile suit below as I watched the technicians swarm across it's surface like ants, "The engineers will have it running at full capacity by the start of the mission. You'll have a maximum speed of around a hundred and ten kilometres and hour, as well as all four 33 cm cannons, vulcan guns and barrel cannons armed and loaded. You've also been given a heavy assault machine gun," I frowned slightly, "It's all live ammunition, so be careful where you shoot,"

"You got it," Soran smirked with a nod, never taking his eyes of the ZuOOT's crimson form, "Just you wait, once the bigwigs see the machine in action, they'll have no choice but to put it into mass production,"

I gave him a curious look, "You have read the mission profile for this evaluation right?"
"Of course," he smirked at me as he took another puff of his cigarette, "But if this guy can fight, maybe the good Defence Committee Chairman will reconsider eh? You've heard the rumours right?"

Who hadn't? For a while now there had been whispers that Australia was currently plagued by a group of rogue GINNs taking out small outposts and the like. I nodded in confirmation.

"That maybe true, but we have no way of knowing if we'll…"

"Come on Commander," my sentence was cut off by the sounds of voices in the corridor, "I still think I should be the one piloting the GINN! I'm Valiant's top pilot after all…"

"Which is why you're to remain here to protect the ship," I smiled as I recognised the voice of our esteemed Commander Sarah Michaels as the door to the lounge hissed open, "Mr. Westfield shall be piloting the a GINN down to the surface to insure the ZuOOT has back-up should we run into problems,"
"But he's just an engineer!" I recognised the young man that followed the Commander into the room, one Roger Felcar, a greencoat second generation Coordinator who seemed to feel the need to prove himself to everybody he met. He was right though, he was the best pilot on the ship, his failures in the other areas of academy training being the reason he never achieved elite status, "He doesn't even like piloting mobile suits, why put him through it when you could have me?"

"Because Marcus Westfield is both a capable engineer and pilot," Michaels stared daggers at the young officer, causing his mouth to shut quickly with a click, "He can provide cover for the ZuOOT and perform the tests at the same time. It kills two birds with one stone, and saves us the man power, speaking of which," she turned to me as though realising I was in the same room, "Good morning Mr. Westfield, we were just talking about you,"

"Commander," I smiled as I gave her a formal salute, Felcar mirroring my gesture behind her, "I was actually just about to go and find you," I indicated to the soldier behind me, "This is the pilot that's been assigned to the ZuOOT for the duration of the test, Demetrius…"

"Soran," I blinked in surprise as recognition and horror passed across the Commander's face, "Demetrius Soran,"

"Hello Sarah," Soran smiled as he cast a lazy salute, "Been a while,"

A tense silence overcame the room as the two officers stared at each other, Michaels' fists clenching at her side while Soran smiled good naturedly.

"Mr. Westfield," I glanced to my Commander as she addressed me, "You are to be piloting a GINN down to the surface with Mr. Soran and the ZuOOT. With all the rumours of rouge officers abound at the moment. I won't take the chance of running into those rogue GINNs while we're down there understand?"

It hadn't taken me long to know that arguing with Sarah Michaels was a futile endeavour, "Crystal clear Ma'am,"

"Very good,"
"But Commander," Felcar began to complain again as she pushed by him, his voice wafting down the corridor as he tried to convince her to change her mind, "He's just an engineer he'll get slaughtered down there…"

I sighed as I shook my head, before turning my gaze to Soran.

"You mind explaining?"

"Sorry kid," the older man chuckled as he turned his eyes back to the ZuOOT below, "I don't kiss and tell,"

"As of 1000 hours on the tenth of December of this year, these were the orders forwarded to us from Defence Committee Member Yuri Amalfi via Marcus Westfield concerning the revaluation of the mobile suit unit YTFA-2, codenamed the ZuOOT," Michaels tapped the map in front of her with a single long finger, her nail clicking against the side of the display as she took in the faces of myself, Captain Jenkins and Soran in front of her, "The unit will be dropped by the Valiant over north-western Australia, near supply post Ninety-Four. Once the ZuOOT has reached the Earth's surface, Mr. Westfield will make sure nothing was damaged before firing tests will commence. The evaluation will be divided into various stages. Also, based on Ninety-Four's location we shall…"

"This will be good right?"

I gazed uneasily at Soran as Michaels stared dangerously in his direction, "If this goes according to plan, won't we be able to prove that the initial evaluation was wrong?" he sniggered, "Engineers have no idea what it's like to be in actual combat,"

I coughed hard, "I do,"

"Yeah well," the elder man smirked as he stuck another cigarette in his mouth, "You didn't really fight at L4 did ya? Let old Le Creuset and his goons do all the work,"

"In addition to the ZuOOT," The Commander's calm voice cut in before I could retort, "Mr. Westfield will be piloting one of the Valiant's GINNs to conduct efficient testing and provide support if needs be…and I shall also be joining you via a Infestus to observe from the skies,"
"What?" the soldier almost spat out his cigarette in surprise, "Why you?"

"Is there a problem with that decision Mr. Soran?" she smiled dangerously, as though daring to defy her.

"No but…"

"Supply Outpost Ninety-Four is only a hundred kilometres away from Outpost Forty-Eight, along the continent's coastline," Jenkins frowned as he rubbed a hand across his bald head, "It was the last installation to be attacked by the Rogue GINNs, around two weeks ago. They may still be in the area,"

"If it was a hundred kilometres, we may show up their sensors," I cast a worried look across the table to Michaels, "We have no idea why these pilots have gone against us, or even if they've truly defected to the Alliance. Should we really continue the tests if the enemy is so close?"

"That's why you're heading out in a GINN Mr. Westfield," I felt a slight heat in my cheeks at the sly smirk that the Commander sent my way, "You'll be there to provide cover fire in case we run into such difficulties, as well as making sure the tests are completed if we do not. The three of us will be deployed via drop pod, with you holding onto the Infestus in it's deployed mode until we have cleared the atmosphere. Once the drop pod has released us, I will take off from you while the ZuOOT continues onto the ground,"

"Well this should be fun," Soran smirked, "there's no way a GINN could keep up with the ZuOOT if it's been fighting all across Australia these past few months. They'll make easy targets if we run into them,"

"Like wounded dogs,"
"What was that?" Demetrius glared at the Commander, "If you have something to say, then say it to my face!"

"All I'm saying is that fighting a weaker enemy would denounce the final evaluation," that same sly smirk graced Michaels features as Soran's fist shook angrily, "And that wouldn't look good for your precious ZuOOT, now would it, Mr. Soran?"

"I don't feel comfortable about doing this,"

"A pilot suit is necessary Mr. Westfield. You didn't really think you'd be able to make a drop without one,"

"That's not what I meant," I scowled darkly at the Commander's amused face, "I mean I'm not comfortable about being launched like this. A Infestus wasn't designed to be launched by a GINN you know. That's why they call it a VTOL,"

"Command had no other ships to spare," Michaels smirked, "Besides, I'm in for a rougher ride then you are, and you probably don't even want to think about the hell Soran's going to through in the ZuOOT. That machine simply wasn't designed for orbital drops,"

"Speaking of which," I gazed down at her seriously as I completed my pre-launch checks, "Commander…you and Mr. Soran seem to know each other from a previous encounter,"

"Thinking we have a little competition Mr. Westfield?" she laughed as I felt my cheeks heat up again, "If that's the case, your powers of observation are worse then I thought,"

"It was just a comment Ma'am,"

"I know. But I will say this on your 'comment' Mr. Westfield: even if a soldier degrades, he will still be a soldier through to his dying day,"

I remained silent as she terminated the channel, my mind barely registering Captain Jenkins' voice in my helmet's speakers as he announced the release of the drop pod, the slight drop in my stomach snapping me out of my thoughts as Valiant's Communications Officer gave a running commentary of our decent in my ear.

"First layer traversed. Decelerate to Mach Four, trajectory good,"

"I admired him once,"

I blinked as my comm. screen came online above my head once more, Sarah Michaels' face looking sad and thoughtful.

"Excuse me?"

"Thirty seconds until termination of cooling stage,"

"I used to admire him…Demetrius Soran," she looked slightly agitated that I had forgotten our conversation so quickly, "He used to be an instructor at the Academy, before your time,"

"Commence aero-dynamic control,"

"He was a talented soldier, something that ran in his family. Did you know his grandfather fought in the Reconstruction Wars? Back in Sixty-seven however, when they were searching for the first pilots for the GINNs, he didn't perform too well on the selection tests,"

"Mr. Westfield report in,"

"Erm…all systems go. Infestus is secure, ZuOOT hasn't moved around too much during re-entry. Second layer traversed,"

"It slowly began to eat away at him, watching as all the young solders around him gradually became mobile suit pilots, leaving him behind," The commander continued on as though I hadn't spoken to the Communications officer, "Eventually, right before my own graduation, he completely gave up on himself,"

"Past layer of turbulence, deceleration to mach zero point nine," I turned my attention back to the Commander, "In our line of work, we experience failure every so often, but just because we fail once, doesn't mean we just stop. We didn't give up just because the Jörmungandr didn't live up to our expectations," I glanced up at my readouts quickly, "Cooling stage ceased, Altitude good,"

"I will admit, failure can be a good thing, especially when it's remedied," she smiled wryly, "It stops the ego from inflating too much, and lets us know that we're still human. But that man," she scowled darkly, "He let that one failure take hold of his life. I'd heard nothing but good things about him from my own father, but when I actually met him…it was like talking to a living corpse. He's a coward and a dog…no…being a dog would be too good for him,"

I stared at her anguished face until an alarm blared in my ear, signalling the final part of the drop was about to commence.

"Activating program decent coordinates. Stand by for ejection of drop pod in three…two…one…eject!"

With a dull thud the explosive bolts shattered, bright Australian sunlight pouring into the darkened pod as the plates fell away, my GINN and Soran's ZuOOT falling away from the support strut as I felt the Infestus' vibrate with activation.

"Engines are go, position is horizontal. Mr. Westfield, release the Infestus,"

I didn't need telling twice. Barely a moment after the GINN's fingers released the fuselage, the small plane flew out from under the mobile suit out into the blue sky.

"Where's the ZuOOT?"

I checked my readings as I pulled my GINN's rifle from it's holster, "Still descending. It's a lot heavier then a GINN, so it will have to keep falling for a little while yet,"

Jonathan Scotts sighed as his machine moved achingly across the sand, an occasional curse escaping his mouth as the GINN slipped on the odd dune.

He was tired, his body having been run on adrenaline alone for the past few weeks. But he didn't mind. This was why he became a soldier after all. Fighting was his life.

His only major problem at present was the was his bad eye constantly itched as sweat seeped in under his patch.

"Supply Outpost Ninety-four is coming up Commander,"

"Excellent," Scotts smiled as he moved one of the GINN's arms into a slow salute to his comrade, "Come on, let's see if our guests have arrived yet,"

Supply Outpost Ninety-four was little more then a collection of hastily constructed warehouses in the middle of the deserts of Australia, a single Proto-GINN standing guard near the living quarters, the rifle of a GINN held in it's hands.

"Hey there little man," Scotts grinned as the Proto-GINN's single blood red eye turned to face him as he approached, "Any sign of those units from the Valiant yet?"

"Not yet," the voice over the comm. line was young and innocent, most likely a soldier fresh from the academy, "Should be around soon though. They're not late yet,"

"I see," the Commander smiled as he scratched at the scar that adorned the left side of his face, "Mind if I stick around? You don't have any 500mm rounds to spare for my unit do you?"

"I guess it wouldn't hurt. If you want supplies though, you'll have to talk to the store manager,"

A proximity alarm echoed around the cockpit, Scotts moving the GINN's head up as his camera zoomed in on the approaching units; a Infestus and a GINN.

"Well what do you know? There they are!" The commander smiled as he watched events unfold, a pair of missiles streaking through the sky, clipping a wing of the VTOL plane as the GINN swerved for cover, "Hey what the hell!? They're under attack! We have to…"

The soldier's voice was cut off as the Proto-GINN staggered back from the hail of bullets that belched out of Scotts' machine gun, the mobile suit exploding as it collapsed to the sandy ground as several other GINNs came over the top of the dune.

"Such a waste," Jonathan sighed with a smirk, "But I wonder little man, do you really believe the Store Manager will give ammunition to 'filthy' Naturals such as ourselves?"

"Commander, report in!" I stared desperately as the Infestus began to spin wildly, "Michaels what's your status?"
"Right hand stabiliser…disabled," I couldn't see her face, the comm. screen dominated by static, but it was clear from the sound of her voice she was in trouble, "I can hold her…contact the Valiant though, we'll be needing a salvage operation once I get her to the ground,"

"I'm being blocked on all frequencies," I scowled hard as I tried to raise my ship, finally slamming my hand against the panel in anguish, "I can't raise the Valiant…can't even reach the supply post,"

"There's a simple reason for that kid," I looked up at the comm. Screen as Soran's grave face appeared, "Sorry to break it to you guys but it looks like those rogues got to the outpost before we did. Go after the Commander. ZuOOT touchdown is one minute,"

"While your chivalry is touching Mr. Soran, I can handle a crash landing by myself," Michaels voice was reduced to a static-ridden audio in my helmets speakers as I rotated the GINN's camera towards the descending ZuOOT, pure white parachutes blossoming from it's back as it neared the ground, "Mr. Westfield will assist you in your assault. I won't permit a solo excursion,"

"Is the test of a single unit really worth your life Sarah?" Soran grinned, "Besides, if the kid intervenes, that would make the evaluation useless would it not? I told you we might run into them. Makes good target practice,"

A silence came over my helmet speakers, the Commander either too stunned or to preoccupied to reply.

I decided to make the decision for her.

"Mr. Soran, you have a go,"

"Mr. Westfield that isn't your decision!"
"The life of a soldier isn't worth one machine the Defence Committee doesn't even want to mass produce," I scowled as I moved towards the spinning Infestus, "I'm coming into assist you Ma'am, like it or not. You can court-martial me later. Mr. Soran, you may commence evaluations when ready,"

The older man smiled as he snapped of a salute,

"Roger that kid,"

"Commander Michaels stand by," I narrowed my eyes slightly in concentration as I moved over the out of control plane, "at your rate of decent, the Infestus will break up on impact. I need you to stabilise for as long as possible, then eject, do you understand?"
"I don't take orders from you Westfield!"

"I'm only trying to save you're life Ma'am," I scowled darkly, "The last thing Valiant needs is the death of it's commander. Now can you stabilise or not?"

"I…I can get three seconds if I boost power to the starboard engines but…"

"It will have to do," I felt the sweat condense in my gloves as I tightened my grip on the control sticks, "Once you've ejected, I'll catch you on the way down understand?"

"Under…stood,"

"On the count of three then," Any harder, and I swear the control sticks would have come off in my hand as I backed off from the now descending plane, "One…Two…THREE!!"

For a matter of moments, the entire craft slowed down in it's rotation, never stopping.

With a bang of explosive bolts the canopy came clear, a small chair flung off completely in the wrong direction as the Infestus refused to stop it's motion, the rockets sending the pilot's seat all over the place like a firework.

"Oh shit!"
Michaels screams resonated through my head as I pulled away from the falling wreckage, watching helplessly as the chair propelled the Commander higher and higher, before beginning it's long plummet to the ground.

I silently urged the GINN on as my Commander continued to fall towards the dusty ground below, my rifle falling away as mechanical hands outstretched ready to catch her as I forced the mobile suit into a steep dive.

We were so far away. No matter how fast I pushed she just seemed to be falling faster.

Every second I got closer to her, she got closer to the ground. I wasn't going to make it! I was going to see a large messy stain on the sands below I just knew it! I wouldn't be able to save her! I…"

A heavy clunk of metal on metal brought me back to my senses, my hands automatically pulling back on the controls, the giant mobile suit pulling out to it's dive just in time to come into a running landing across the desert terrain, the Commander safe and sound.

I breathed a sigh of relief, letting my head fall back against my chair with a clunk, my breathing hard and shallow.

The Commander was safe. Sarah Michaels was safe. I had just saved a life, as well as a whole lot of paperwork when I returned to the Valiant.

"Mr. Westfield,"

I blinked my eyes open as Michaels voice came over my helmet's speakers, quiet and calm.

"Yes Ma'am?"

"If you ever have the opportunity to save my life again. Don't,"

I frowned slightly as I lolled my head to one side, watching hazily as the Infestus came to the ground in a grand display of fire, smoke and shrapnel.

"Understood Ma'am,"

"And…Mr. Westfield?"

"Yes Ma'am?"

"…Thanks,"

"Do you think we got the Infestus down sir?"

"Probably," Scotts smiled to himself at his underling's worried tone, "It's the GINN escort that worries me though. That's not a Natural at the controls boys. I've sent Lee and Mulroy to check out the crash site though. This OS may be jury-rigged, but even a squad of Naturals against one Coordinator should be an even match. Once we're done here though, we'll search a ten kilometre radius from the outpost. A GINN and a Infestus don't just come down from space for a leisurely flight for no reason. I want to know why their out here,"

"Maybe they were searching for us?"
"Doubtful," Jonathan sniggered, "Coordinators may be full of themselves with their fancy genetic modification, but they think we're rogues remember? No idiot sends one GINN and a VTOL aircraft to take down eight mobile suits, not even that fool they call Patrick Zala,"

"Hello there my little friends," Soran smiled as he stared down the ZuOOT's targeting scope, "Hey kid, you read me?"

"Loud and clear Mr. Soran," Westfield's face appeared on his Comm. Screen, "What do you see?"

"GINNs, eight of them," the officer pulled a cigarette from it's box with his teeth, "They're moving real slow like though. I'm guessing someone fiddled with the OS, tried to dumb it down,"
"Someone?" The redcoat frowned, "But who would need to reprogram an OS? Any pilot whose gone through the training wouldn't need to edit it too far beyond personal preferences,"

"Any Coordinator pilot kid," the older man grinned, "Now Naturals, they're a different story. Duller reflexes, slower reaction times, you know?"

"They're Naturals? Why are they preying on our outposts?"

"You got me kid," Soran frowned as he lit up, his eyes never leaving the wandering GINNs as they picked through the devastation they had wrought on the outpost, "Maybe they were sent here by the Alliance, maybe they just don't like us. All I know is I've got eight GINNs on my scope, and I'm pretty certain we've got Natural pilots at the helm. You want me to shoot them?"

"Negative. Pull back until we can safely assess the situation…Also Commander Michaels is pretty worse for wear. She's fine by the way, just a little shook up. We should really wait for…"

"If I wait much longer, I'm gonna get discovered," the officer let a cloud of grey smoke bellow from his nostrils angrily, "And I'm not gonna be shot in the back just because Sarah's napping! Come on, you're a redcoat ain't ya?"

"Just because I wear red doesn't mean I have the authority to make life and death decisions," Marcus scowled darkly, "You would be heavily outnumbered, outgunned,"

"They're Naturals kid, in GINNs that snails could outrun. I'll start with the ones that stop moving," he smirked slightly as one turned to survey the remains of a warehouse, "That one with it's back turned will do nicely. What do say kid, ready to start evaluating?

There was a long pause, Westfield's face contorting into a look of concentration as he weighed the odds. Finally he slumped back in his chair with a sigh.

"Very well Mr. Soran. Commence evaluation,"

"That's what I wanted to hear,"

"Hey…what's that light?"

"It's called the sun you idiot. Big yellow thing in the sky?"

"No this is closer to the ground. Skimming almost. Looks like a…"

A sudden explosion ripped across the sands as static screamed in Scotts ear, a comrade's GINN exploding nearby, it's tattered remains falling into the ruins of the warehouse it had been examining.

"EVERYBODY DOWN!!" Scotts bellowed as another shell sailed across the wastelands, the nearer explosion of another GINN's arm detonating causing his cockpit to rattle and shake violently, "WE'VE GOT INCOMING!!"

"Confirmed hit, target destroyed on first shot," Soran grinned in triumph at his handiwork, "Got a little sloppy on the second shot though. Definite loss of combat effectiveness though. One machine down, one disabled. They won't be getting up any time soon,"

"Roger that," Marcus nodded in confirmation, "I'm watching the data as it comes in. We'll adjust the firing program accordingly,"

"And what should I do about it now?"

"At present…use your best judgment,"

Soran chuckled darkly, "You want me to go with my gut?"

"For now, Yes,"

"Not a wise choice my friend," the officer spat out his finished cigarette onto the grated floor below, only to pull another from it's box moments later, "But what the hell, why not?"

"Dammit, took out two units in the first two shots," Scotts rolled his eyes slightly at his underling's GINN lying next to him, both units searching the landscape for their illusive attacker, "Was it the enemy GINN?"

"Not unless the latest rifles pack more of a punch then these things," the commander smirked darkly, "No, we've got a tank on our hands gents. I'd say about ten klicks from here, and both Sanchez and Kilcher were standing still when they got hit. Something tells me the pilot didn't expect this, and that second shot veering off like that…Gents, we're dealing with a machine whose firing adjustments haven't been completed. All units stand by, we're moving out. The bastard's probably moved away by now though," he scowled as he brought up a map of the surrounding area, "Judging from the dunes though…I'd say he only has three possible locations to hide for an ambush. We'll just have to attack these places simultaneously. Yarif, call back Lee and Muroy. They should be in a position soon where they can attack from behind. Conrad, you and Stefan grab those missile attachments and prepare for bombardment. Let's take this wannabe human down!"

"So, they're finally coming," Demetrius smirked as he kicked the ZuOOT into reverse, "Took them long enough,"
Despite his smugness, the officer grimaced as the mobile suit rocked under the barrage of missile fire, his machine gun belching bullets across the sky as anti-air as his own cannons returned fire.

"Looks like they're heading towards the second ambush point," he growled, "Peh, amateurs,"

"Don't get cocky Soran," Westfield scowled, "You of all people should know what that will do to you in the field. I'm sure your grandfather told you stories right?"

"I guess Sarah's been the one telling tales eh?" the officer grinned, "Figures. I could tell you a few things about her peeps you know. For example…"

He grunted in pain as a shell exploded too near to his machine, the entire mobile suit listing dangerously to one side as Marcus' startled face disappeared into a haze of white static.

"Kid? Kid! Ah blast it," he narrowed his eyes as the last of the rain of shells died down, "Figures they'd hit the communications array. At least the black box will record his precious data. Alright you Alliance scum," Soran smirked as he watched the GINNs slowly approach, "Let's see how good you really are!"

"Oh my God, what was that?! The suit's on fire! I can't see! IT'S SO HOT!!"

"Stefan, calm down," Scotts could only watch as his comrade's machine was engulfed by the flames of the assailant's latest shell, "It wasn't a direct hit, you're suit's not damaged!"
"But I can't see!!"The GINN spun around uncontrollably (although admittedly slowly), trying to put out the flames that licked at his machine, "It's so hot! It's…AGH!!"
"Stefan!!" Jonathan could only watch as another shell slammed straight through the GINN, it's explosion engulfed in the fire of the previous shot, "Dammit, that guy's taking us down like flies!"

"Commander, Receiving word from Lee and Mulroy," Yarif's worried face come up on his comm. Screen, "They're in position, we have him surrounded!" They also have a visual. Looks like some kind of mobile artillery platform,"

"Then if we take it all at once, we shouldn't have a problem. Everyone take to the skies! We maybe slow on the ground, but we'll definitely have superiority in the air!"

with a roar of thrusters, six machines took off into the clear blue skies, their rifles ready as they followed the trail of dust of their oncoming attacker.

"I think I see it!" Jonathan cut his engines as he brought his rifle to bear on the crimson machine below, "And it's huge! Fast too," he sniggered at the second path of sand as it plumed up beside the mech, "Or maybe I'm just slow. Doesn't matter," with a ground shaking thud he hit the ground once more, his rifle pounding out shot after shot, "Just take him down!!"

For five whole minutes that chase raged, the unknown enemy swerving and diving through the hail of gunfire on every side, it's four immense cannons firing shells as it's side weapons kept him and his comrades from getting too close.

"I got you now!" Yarif's grin could be hear din his voice as he landed behind the machine, "You can't escape now you worthless hunk of junk!"

Even from across the battle field, the screech of caterpillar treads being blown clear from their wheels brought a smile to Jonathan's face.

"Nice work Yarif. All units close in on the target. We've got him now,"

"This is too easy," Scotts felt a little irk catch in his mind as Yarif tossed aside his rifle in favour of the longsword attached to his back, "One good hit from this and it's on to that infernal GINN! What the…smoke screen!!"

Scotts blinked in surprise as a cloud of smoke spread from launchers mounted along the vehicle's side, both the enemy and Yarif disappearing into a haze of dark grey as his comrade uneasily talked to himself.

"Damn, where did it go? Can't see a bloody thing! Wait what's that? Oh…Oh God…I think…I think it's growing!"

"Growing? Well this guy's certainly full of surprises," Jonathan smiled grimly, as he poured bullets into the smoky cloud "Yarif fall back, and pick up your rifle on the way out damn you!"

"Yes sir. I…Look out!"

A single smaller shot, no doubt from the enemy's wrist mounted cannon, blasted it's way through the grey wall, his own GINN's foot detonating on impact, the entire mobile suit falling to the ground with a bone rattling crash.

With a resounding boom that echoed across the Australian fields, the cloud dispersed as Yarif's entire upper torso simply shattered from the impact of a large shell, the enemy's single blood red eye turning back on Scotts as it stood at it's full height.

Gone was the tank like machine that had been there only moments before, the remains of a caterpillar track being swallowed by the dunes the only indication there had been such a artillery platform in the first place.

In it's stead was a full blown mobile suit. A crimson machine with the original assailant's upper torso, thick legs ending in two toed feet now holding up the giant mech.

Even though he had survived far worse then this, Scotts couldn't help but swallow thickly at the enemy brought his machine gun to bear.

"Don't know if you'll get this kid, but I've switched to mobile suit mode," Soran grinned as he ran past the first fallen GINN towards another just behind it, parts flying everywhere as an entire magazine was dumped into it's torso, "Just so you know, arm side weapons work like a dream in this mode. Mind if I borrow this?" he smirked as he picked up the cartridge from his foe's fallen rifle, "Didn't think so,"

More bullets belched forth from the ZuOOT's weapons as several shells smashed into another GINN's thigh, the mobile suit crashing into the dirt as another spray of weapons fire caused the massive machine to explode in a cloud of fire.

"Now for the big guns!"

The clatter of discarded weaponry was masked by the whistling roar of heavy artillery shells as a pair screamed across the sandy battlefield towards their target, the GINN's cockpit caving from the impact before exploding in a array of smoke and shrapnel.

"And then there was one," Soran grinned slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck, the ZuOOT's single red eye turning to face his final opponent as it charged forward, rifle blazing, "Time to wake up and smell the death my friend!"

Then he heard it.

A heart wrenching screech of protesting gears, blood red alert signals flashing across his displays.

And what was worse, the left hand leg refused to move.

"Dammit! Shrapnel's lodged in the gears!" the pilot wrenched at his controls violently, "Come on! Move damn you!"

With a hideous crunch, the leg suddenly came clear from it's mooring, the ZuOOT spinning from the sudden release before falling flat on it's side.

"Yes!" Despite his situation Soran couldn't help but grin as the sound of confirmed lock rang in his ears, as the GINN came into one of the cannon's sights with the fall, "Bye bye!"

The cannon fired.

The ZuOOT fell onto it's back.

The shell ripped through the GINN's cockpit and burst out the other side.

Demetrius sighed as he let his head fall back against the headrest.

"That was too close," he groaned sorely as he clenched his cigarettes tightly in shaking hand, his light blue eyes taking in the wreckage of his foes around him, "What a waste,"

Then, something hard hit the cockpit.

"YOU STUCK UP COORDINATOR BASTARD!!"

Scotts was livid, blow after blow reigned down on the strange mobile suit as he pounded the machine with the GINN's fists.

"My entire team…destroyed! Everything we worked for, gone! And you just sit there as though the battle is won!? This is only the tip of the iceberg my friend! War is coming! And you…" he slammed the rifle barrel first deep into the mech's chest, "Are it's first true victim!"

A single round found itself deeply imbedded in the mobile suit's torso, the arm of the enemey reaching out desperately, as though alive, before falling back into the sandy dunes, it's crimson eye going dark.

Scotts smirked as he pulled the rifle clear with a spray of debris. He was tired, every muscle in his body ached.

But there was still one last problem to take care of before he could rest.

"And now," he primed the rifle, turning his wounded GINN into the sunlight, "It's time to deal with your little friends,"

The GINN before me pulled itself achingly across the Australian sands, it's damaged right foot dragging a small trench behind it as it tried to get into weapon's range.

I myself had lost my rifle in my haste to catch Michaels from becoming a large bloody stain on the face of Australia, the longsword in my own GINN's hand the only weapon I had.

As I watched this Natural in Coordinator's clothing drag itself into the fray, a part of me wondered what could be going through the pilot's mind. Surely he (or she) didn't think he could win this fight? Even without all the damage sustained, the suit had still been painfully slow, and now I knew it was only a case of dodging bullets until I could get close enough to get at him.

The GINN continued to limp foreword up the dune that separated the two of us, it's rifle glinting in the dying rays of the sun as it finally spotted me, it's single eye flashing in acknowledgment as it brought the weapon to bear.

Then…it exploded.

With a massive boom the chest of the enemy suddenly detonated in a fiery display, the arms and head sent soaring away from the mobile suit as the legs collapsed in a heap.

And as I watched the smoke clear, and the broken armour lost to the winds, the ZuOOT finally fell back, disabled, but victorious.

He was bleeding profusely, his legs and lower torso nothing more then a mangled bloody mess.

But he had won.

Once more…Westfield had his wretched data. The bigwigs couldn't say no to the ZuOOT now, not after what he had accomplished.

"One shot was enough," despite the pain that wracked his body, he threw the cigarettes threw the hole in his cockpit with a painful chuckle, "Always knew those things wouldn't kill me. It's nice to know…I can still fight, eh ZuOOT?"

The mobile suit didn't reply, nor did he expect it too.

All he heard was the gentle whine of his unit powering down, before the word slowly seemed to dissolve around him, the pain gradually ebbing away…

Dead.

Demetrius Soran was dead.

Staring at the wreckage of the ZuOOT, it was the only conclusion I could come too.

"He died to save us,"

I blinked down at Michaels as she gazed mournfully at the smouldering remains, her head leaning slightly against my arm.

"I guess…even a decaying solider is redeemable," I glanced down at her superior, her reaction to my words hidden by her silky red hair.

"Maybe you're right Westfield," I felt the pressure of her head against my pilot suit as she leaned in harder against my arm, "Maybe…maybe you're right,"

Dear Shiho,

I'm starting to wonder if this ship is cursed somehow.

While all tests we've completed since the 603rd was established have ended with a high success rate, any pilot temporarily assigned to us seems to die in the name of evaluation. Aleksandro Simmons was barely a week from his retirement, the age of mobile suits quickly overtaking the big guns he loved so much.

And Demetrius Soran…

Today I conducted tests on the YTFA-2 ZuOOT in Australia with Soran as the pilot. I never imagined we'd put the unit through it's paces so vigorously. All I could do was watch as Soran single-handedly took down a entire GINN squad (Taken by a unknown faction of Naturals), only to fall with a single shell at the very end.

I'm also starting to wonder if all this death will be worth it in the end.

That said, I'm sure Demetrius would have been happy to know the Council has taken into account our revaluation of the ZuOOT, with a fresh batch of mass produced variants rolling off the production line some time next year.

I only hope we never have to use them.

As usual give my love to your parents, and tell my Uncle not to worry. Also…take care of yourself alright? I hope to take some leave sometime next February. Maybe we could meet up on Junius Seven and catch up?

Thinking about you everyday,

My best regards,

Marcus.

Sorry this took so long to update.

Hope you enjoyed

Reviews always welcome.

Dearing