Gundam SEED: Knights of Summer

By:

Mystwalker

A/N: I promise there will be a role for the original Gundam SEED characters to play in this fic, but right now I'm still introducing all the new people. Don't worry, next chapter we should get to see some Kira, among others.

Guest, I'm actually really glad you feel that way about Mitsuko's stunt, since it was meant to establish both her potential (her piloting skills) and her failings (she's a reckless little idiot). So the fact that you felt it was too reckless to admire means that it worked.

mushuxlll, thanks! Glad you liked it!

Voltage Axe, thank you! I'm glad you liked it! Also thank you very much for recommending your story to me, but I have a standing policy about not reading any fics similar in concept to ones I'm actively working on, because I don't want to steal ideas by accident or worry about where ideas come from. I'd be happy to check it out a little later on, though. Thanks again for the review!

A bit of a PSA, this chapter was almost complete but I actually wasn't planning to finish this tonight due to having a very long day. Seeing Voltage Axe's review actually gave me the last bit of motivation I needed to get the last five scenes written and this chapter online. I would have finished it tomorrow regardless and I'm not saying I only write for reviews, but never underestimate the power a review has over a writer that's feeling a little down and uninspired and don't forget to review other stories you read too! We all appreciate it and love every review we get!

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam SEED.

Phase 03: Seeds of Conflict

April 3, 98 CE

Siegel Clyne Memorial Academy, October Five

The chess piece, real marble, and an ostentation even for its owner, settled into place on the board, pressuring her left flank. Azami straightened up in her lounge seat, her eyes moving over the board. A legion of soldiers in white and black was spread out between her and her opponent, a dark-haired boy with his hanging open over his shoulders. She recognized him as a student in a year above her, a councilman's son.

She reached out, picking up one of the white pawns and moving it forward. Azami pressed it down onto the board with a clack, pulling her hand back to her lap. She folded them neatly, one on top of the other, as she waited for her opponent's move. Around her, students dressed in the same school uniforms that she and her opponent were wearing waited, studying the board.

She sat still as her opponent's hand hovered over each of the pieces, studying his movements and his posture. Her hair was long, brown, and straight, falling down her back. Her eyes were a deep violet. The girl was small and slender, fine-boned, delicate features that reminded anyone who saw her of her mother. She was dressed in a blazer and pleated skirt, the uniform of her Academy. A black Haro rolled around the ground near her foot, occasionally bouncing up and down but mostly respecting the silence.

Her opponent moved his knight, an aggressive move. Azami thought for a moment, then reached out, using her bishop to block him. She caught his frustration in the way his eye twitched as he leaned back, refusing to look at her.

He wants to win quickly, she thought, giving him a casual glance before turning her attention back to the board. This game has already gone on too long for him.

His father was a councilman from the Radical faction, a political opponent of her mother. He'd taken the time out of his Sunday to find her and challenge her to a game of chess in a public place, claiming only that he heard she 'liked the game'. She knew he was trying to prove that he was smarter than her, that his family was superior to hers in some way.

She didn't particularly care about proving herself, which gave her an advantage. His hastiness, his aggression, gave her something she could use.

His eyes moved across the board, brow furrowing in concentration. They lingered over the knight again, and the rook in the corner. She thought about the way he had been playing so far, thought about what she knew about him.

70% chance that he goes for the rook. 25% chance he continues to press with the knight. Chance that he pulls back…She looked back up at him, her expression giving nothing away. 5%.

He reached for the rook, moving it into her space. Azami reached out, moving her queen.

"Check," she said.

Her handheld, lying on the table beside her, buzzed. She ignored it, watching the frustration build up in her opponent as he moved a piece between her queen and his king. His frown deepened, and he moved again, pressuring her right.

Her bishop clicked into place. "Check," she said again.

The boy snarled at her, moving one of his pieces to his king's defense. He was impatient with having to defend himself, she realized. He wanted to attack, to decimate her forces and remind the crowd who was really in charge of this school.

Click. Click. Clack.

Their pieces moved across the board, each one advancing on the other. He took two of her pieces. She took one of his. She saw the smirk tugging at his lip as he looked down at the board and realized that end-game was approaching. He moved one of his pieces dangerously close to her king. His expression was confident—she saw his next move as clear as day. It was a position she'd allowed him to put her in, one where he could end the game in two moves.

And where she could end it in one. She reached out, allowing herself a small smile as she moved her bishop again.

"Checkmate," she said.

The hush around the room lifted, her classmates talking excitedly among themselves. Her opponent let out a loud "What?!" leaning down to scan the board. From somewhere near her foot, her black Haro started jumping up and down, repeating her words excitedly.

"Checkmate! Checkmate!"

She barely noticed it as she slumped back in her seat, letting out a sigh of relief. Her opponent got up, sweeping the marble pieces back into their case with a fury and taking the board with him as he left the room. One of her friends placed a hand on her shoulder, and Azami opened her eyes to give her a small smile, sitting up.

"So about that movie," the other girl, Camellia said, as if their Sunday morning hadn't just been interrupted by an angry upperclassman with a chessboard.

"The spy thriller?" asked Azami, her smile widening. "I'd love to see it."

"We can catch the matinee if we leave in twenty minutes," said the girl.

"That should be perfect," Azami said, as Black's chirping shifted to an excited "Movie! Movie!"

On the table next to her, her handheld buzzed again.

Mediterranean Coast, Eurasian Federation

The Seraph skimmed over the surface of the Atlantic Ocean, so smoothly that Raleigh could hardly tell that they were moving. He stood outside on the ship's deck, the wind moving through his blond hair. It was warm enough that he wished he could unbutton his uniform jacket, but he decided against it. This was his first posting, and it was to the Earth Alliance's newest ship. He didn't want to ruin it. Instead, he placed his hands on the railing, feeling the salt spray against his face.

"It's nice out here, isn't it?" asked a voice from behind him, making Raleigh's heart jump into his throat. He tensed, spinning around and raising his hand in salute.

"Sir!" he said, embarrassed to be caught slacking.

Lt. Commander James Hedley, captain and commanding officer of the Seraph, watched him with an amused smile. He was dressed in OMNI's white uniform, his hair a wavy dark brown. He looked younger than Raleigh had expected, in his mid or late twenties.

"At ease, Ensign" he said. "You're not on-duty. There's nothing wrong with enjoying a sunny day."

Raleigh hesitated, but relaxed visibly, lowering his hand. "Sir," he said.

"First posting?" asked Hedley, walking up to the railing beside him.

Raleigh exhaled, taking a deep breath as he turned back around to look over the sea. He didn't relax fully, keeping his back straight. "Yes, sir," he said.

"I'm surprised you're not seasick," said Hedley.

"Pilot training sort of cures you of all that," said Raleigh.

"I suppose it does," said Hedley. "I've read your file, Wolf. Top of your class."

Raleigh flushed, embarrassed. "It's not that impressive," he said.

"Don't sell yourself short," said Hedley. "Good pilots are hard to come by."

He didn't say good Natural pilots. That last part was implied. Raleigh glanced down at the water, not sure how that made him feel. He'd worked hard to get this posting, promised to the top graduate of their class, but compared to what he'd seen in the videos leaked of ZAFT drills in Gibraltar, he wasn't even close.

Something of this thoughts must have showed on his face, because the captain clapped him on the back. "Well, we'll get there someday," he said. "What do you think of the ship?"

"She's great, sir," Raleigh said, truthfully. "I've never seen anything like her."

"The true test will be how she handles in space," said Hedley. "You ever been up there?"

"To Copernicus, for space flight training," said Raleigh. "Not for very long, though."

"It'll be an experience," said Hedley, grinning. "You aren't really in the Space Forces until you've spent a week crashing into walls in zero G. After this assignment, you'll probably get your chance."

"Yes, sir," said Raleigh. There wasn't really much else to say there. He looked back out over the ocean, watching a gull skim the surface of the water not far from their ship. It was nice out here. Peaceful.

The peace was disrupted by a shout.

"Captain!" called a voice, making both of them turn around. One of the ship's crew was running up to them, binoculars in hand. He handed them to Hedley. "Straight ahead and three degrees to port."

Hedley frowned, raising the binoculars to his face. He pointed them in the direction the crewman had pointed. Raleigh looked as well, squinting against the sunlight. He saw the horizon and, somewhere in the distance, a flash.

Hedley lowered the binoculars from his face, his expression grim. "Have you had a chance to work with one of the new Gears, Ensign Wolf?" he asked.

"No, sir," Raleigh said.

"You've got your chance. Get suited up and standby." Hedley handed the binoculars to him, turning to address the crewman. "Sound the alarm. Get the crew to the bridge. Battle stations."

"Sir?" Raleigh asked, as the crew sprang into action, klaxons beginning to sound out from around the ship. He quickened his stride along with the captain, hurrying below deck.

"There's combat around the Med Coast," said Hedley, the two of them heading down past an open airlock and into the Seraph's hallway. "Looks like we've found our rebels."

Eurasian Federation Airspace

"How's babysitting?"

The message appeared near the bottom of her screen, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. She tapped out a response, her stylus flying against the clear sheet of plastic.

"Not bad. How's staring at the ceiling?"

"I do have some kind of life, you know."

"Uh-huh. My mistake. So what were you up to today?"

A long pause, during which the "…" appeared again, holding her attention before vanishing. "Mostly staring at the ceiling."

She clamped her lips down on the laugh that threatened to escape, managing to stifle it as she typed out another reply. "Aww, miss me?"

"I don't know. It's finally quiet."

"You're just saying that because you're jealous, aren't you? You'll never guess what I was up to yesterday."

The response, when it came, was lightning quick. "Oh no. Is Orb still standing?"

She feigned outrage. "Just for that," she typed, "there's a limited edition Akatsuki model kit that's never making it back to the PLANTs."

The "…" appeared on her screen again. Mitsuko found herself leaning a little closer, waiting for a response.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Kei, from his seat on the plane opposite hers.

Mitsuko looked up sharply, her eyes widening. Kei was staring at her, as was one of the members of his security detail that he'd brought with him. The other glanced over his shoulder, then went back to piloting the plane.

"Uh—no one," she said, just as White took the opportunity to start jumping up and down, chanting "Renner! Renner!"

Mitsuko snatched the Haro out of the air, clamping both hands firmly over its speakers. Kei smirked at her as she looked around, trying to find a place to stash the offending Haro.

"Don't look at me like that," she said.

"I wasn't looking at you," said Kei, looking away. He was still smirking. "Is Renner a guy?"

"Just a classmate," said Mitsuko.

"So, why are you getting so defensive over just a classmate?"

"I'm not defensive," said Mitsuko, frowning.

The four of them were seated in a private plane, heading from Orb to the Kingdom of Scandinavia. They'd left early that morning, something that left her fighting a lingering case of jetlag. Coordinators weren't as susceptible to that particular curse as Naturals might have been, but going from space, to Earth, to another time zone on Earth would upset anyone's equilibrium. It was easier in space where location didn't matter, and everything was set to Universal Time.

"Renner Joule," said one of Kei's guards, a woman with short dark hair tapping away at her own handheld. There was a faint smile on her face. "Son of Councilman Yzak Joule. Back in the day, he was assigned to the same ZAFT unit as the admiral."

"Thank you, Natalia," said Kei.

"Hey, don't just creep on my friends!" said Mitsuko.

"We've got trouble, Your Highness," said the pilot from the front before Kei could reply.

Mitsuko sat up, her eyes widening slightly at that. Kei got to his feet and she followed, just a beat behind him. The plane was flying over a stretch of forested land, mountains and a crystalline blue sea off to the distance. She tried to remember her Earth geography and thought that Gibraltar might be somewhere over there.

There were flashes of light in the distance. The pilot, a dark-haired Coordinator named Alan Nakano, had zoomed in on the lights, pulling them up in a corner of the screen. Mitsuko looked and saw mobile suits flying over the ocean, beam weapons tearing through the air.

Kei's expression darkened instantly.

"A battle?" he asked.

"There's been unrest in this region lately," said Alan, flicking a few more switches before placing his hands back on the controls. Mitsuko felt a slight shift in her weight as the plane changed course. "I'm going to try to avoid it. Your Highness, please sit down."

Kei frowned, for a moment looking as though he might refuse. The pilot said nothing, but Mitsuko could feel the tension in the air. Then, Kei exhaled, taking a step back into the cabin.

"Understood," he said. "Mitsuko?"

Mitsuko hesitated, but didn't move. There was a copilot's chair in the cockpit, but it was empty. This was nothing more than a civilian aircraft after all, and it didn't really need more than one person to fly, especially if that one person was a Coordinator. The copilot was only there for redundancy.

Her eyes drifted back to the battle in the distance, her expression darkening. A wave of uneasiness passed over her, and the fingers of her hands slowly curled inward, into small fists.

An actual battle.

"…Mitsuko?" Kei asked again.

The pilot ignored her presence, reaching over and thumbing one of the buttons on the plane's console. "Shutting off connection to the network," he said. "We're running dark."

Mitsuko glanced back at her handheld on the seat, at the message from Renner she still hadn't read. The green light near the top of the machine had gone out, signifying that she had lost connection. She glanced back out the windshield of the plane, at the blasts and explosions in the distance, pinpricks of light.

At length, she reached into a compartment beside the cockpit, pulling out a handgun. Mitsuko checked and loaded it in a few quick and efficient movements, then took the copilot's seat, strapping in.

"Pass me secondary controls," she said. Her voice was soft, not at all like the confident tone she had used in the Seiryu. She wondered what had happened to that confidence, when all she felt suddenly was dread.

But she was trained for this. She couldn't go sit in the cabin. She couldn't.

Alan glanced at her, and she caught an appraising look in the other Coordinator's eye before he nodded, fingers moving over the console. "Understood," he said. "Passing secondary controls to you."

Siegel Clyne Memorial Academy, October Five

Azami sat on the edge of her bed, her handheld in her hands as she looked down at the screen. She'd changed out of her school uniform and into another skirt and blouse in preparation for heading out with Camellia, but the jacket that went with her top was strewn across her bed, momentarily forgotten. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Black bouncing around the room, but his antics went mostly ignored as she stared at her net group's news feed.

A video hastily taken from an ongoing battle over the Mediterranean played out, the video taker quickly having to run back inside for shelter when a deflected beam missile slammed into the street in front of him. She rewound the video, playing it again. In the minute or so before the video had come to an end, she'd caught sight of mobile suits engaging in combat, of an Earth Alliance aircraft carrier somewhere in the distance. Already, the comments from her group were filtering in below the video.

"Scary," someone said.

"Anyone here live around the Med? Stay safe."

"I think net is down in that area, unless you're on a military ship."

"So anyone here military?"

"Idiot, they won't be posting at a time like this."

She frowned, replaying the video again.

On some levels, small, localized armed conflict like this was expected to happen. The nations of Earth had grown too big during the Bloody Valentine Wars, war uniting people in the same way that it tore them apart. Now that the wars were over and there had been a quarter century of peacetime, it was only expected that groups from those who had once been independent nations would fight to become independent again.

Except…this didn't feel like a rebel conflict. For one, the attack was decimating the Spanish city beneath it, a city that the rebels would, in theory be trying to liberate. It wouldn't be the first time historically that freedom fighters got a little too enthusiastic in their freedom fighting, but the location bothered her. The Mediterranean region was one of the ones that benefited the most from association with the Eurasian Federation. She wouldn't have expected conflict to come from there. Russia maybe, the Middle East, eventually. Not the Med.

She replayed it again, pursing her lips as she studied the video, studied the brief glimpse of the mobile suit's attack patterns. It wasn't enough. She couldn't gain a good enough picture of their intentions from a minute of shaky video. Below it, another comment chain was starting to gain some attention.

"I'm OMNI, Atlantic Fed. We just got word of this over in Virginia. Top brass doesn't seem very concerned. Official statement incoming."

Azami frowned, skimming the comments below that one. Mostly people demanding answers to the sort of questions an active duty soldier couldn't be expected to answer. She scrolled back up to the video, playing it again.

Atlantic Federation Panama Base

The news about the battle played out in the base's mess hall, accompanied by videos of mobile suits fighting each other. One of the aircraft carriers in the video was identified as the Eurasian flagship Gungnir, under the command of the Eurasian Federation's Rear Admiral Virtanen. The Seraph was expected to arrive at the scene soon and intervene in favor of the Eurasian forces. Given the small number of enemy mobile suits, no one expected the battle to last very long.

Ensign Lianne Silver sat at her table and watched the screen, wishing that she had done just a little bit better on her piloting assessment, or that Raleigh had done a little bit worse. Or that they both had. She frowned in uneasiness, taking a sip of her drink as she studied the video.

Stay safe, Ral…she thought to herself, eyes on the screen.

Seraph, Bridge

Lt. Commander Hedley strapped into his seat, the bridge flaring into activity around him. His screen was filled with images of the fight, of the enemy mobile suits engaging with the Eurasian Federation forces. The enemy seemed to be fighting with a mismatch of older model mobile suits, older Windam's and first generation ZAKUs with a few custom enhancements and custom paint colors. The sort of armaments he would expect a group of rebels to have.

The Eurasian Federation forces were fighting as well, a handful of fighter planes and second generation Windams. The majority of their forces were clustered around the massive aircraft carrier waiting off the Mediterranean Coast. The Seraph's own piloting team waited in the hangar for the signal to launch.

"Communication request from the Gungnir, Captain," said his communication's officer, a young woman dressed in the white OMNI uniform.

"Lieutenant Acosta ready to launch," another crewman added from his other side.

"Allow communications," he said. "Tell the lieutenant to standby."

"Sir."

His men went to work, hands on their respective controls. A communications screen opened up in front of him, displaying an older man in a white uniform. Hedley raised his hand in salute.

"Lt. Commander James Hedley of the Atlantic Federation's Seraph, sir," he said, by way of introduction.

"Commander Hedley, this is Rear Admiral Virtanen of the Eurasian Federation Gungnir," said the man. "We're shorthanded today. Can I count on your assistance?"

"My pilots are on standby and ready to launch, sir," said Hedley.

"Thank you," said Virtanen. "Your assistance is appreciated."

"It's what we came to do, sir," said Hedley.

Virtanen nodded. "Come aboard when we finish this battle. Gungnir out."

The screen went blank. Hedley placed both his hands on his arm rests, turning to his men. "Have Acosta and her squad launch," he said. "We'll provide cover fire."

"Targeting enemy mobile suits," said one of the men on his bridge.

"Pilots preparing to launch," said another.

The ship hummed slightly as the hatches opened, mobile suits pouring out into the sky. Hedley settled back into his seat to watch the battle, exhaling slowly as he turned his attention to the screens. The pair of Gears appeared on the radar, surrounded by a small cloud of Windam-II's. He kept his eyes on the dots that represented the Gears, the names of their pilots appearing in small text next to their markers—Lt. Catarina Acosta, Ensign Raleigh Wolf.

Now, he thought, eyes on the screen. It's time to see what those things can do.

Mediterranean Coast, Eurasian Federation

The Gear, a blue and white mobile suit with OMNI's logo painted onto one shoulder, hovered in the air over the Atlantic Ocean. Raleigh's eyes narrowed as a beam shot through the air towards him, fired by one of the enemy mobile suits. His grip tightened on the controls, his mobile suit's shields quickly folding back to cover the cockpit. The beam struck the shield and splintered, deflecting light harmlessly to either side of him. He unfolded the shields long enough to return fire, maneuvering the thrusters so that his suit moved diagonally upwards, out of the enemy's immediate line of site.

The four members of the squad assigned to him fanned out and immediately started zeroing in on the mobile suit that had shot at him, the report of their cannon fire sounding even through the cockpit's protective sound muffling. Their mobile suits were older models, second-generation Windams that, until just recently, would have been considered top of the line for mass produced suits.

His radar chimed a proximity alert as Lt. Acosta flew up behind him, her Gear's rifle balanced against its shoulder. Her face appeared in the corner of his screen, partially obscured by her helmet. She was of Latin American heritage, her dark hair cut short in a bob that framed a nut-brown face.

"How's it feel, Wolf?" she asked, firing at an enemy mobile suit that made a dive for her. It spun out of the way at the last second, her shot splashing into the ocean and kicking up a spray of foam. The mobile suit his squad was targeting raised its shields, blocking the shots before gaining altitude as well. His squad flew in tight formation, pursuing it.

He kept his eye on them while answering the lieutenant. "Feels great, ma'am," he said, his hands still on the controls that maneuvered the thrusters. "Smooth response, really stable. Not too much feedback, but not too little either."

She nodded. "Top of the line," she said. "I have to admit, I'm impressed. Looks like our people up in development might be finally catching up to Morgenroete."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, because it was expected. In truth, he was only half paying attention. His eyes were fixed on the mobile suit his squad was pursuing, the way it ducked and wove out of sight as it darted between bullets. Its movements were fast, its reaction time faster than any old ZAKU had any right to be.

It worried him. It nagged at a memory, one of ZAFT pilots practicing around Gibraltar, playing around on an off day while he watched from a window, waiting for his father to finish his diplomatic visit with the commander there.

"Ma'am," he said, as one of his team's shots went wild and plummeted into the ocean. "These rebels are Naturals, aren't they?"

Lt. Acosta didn't respond, but her silence was answer enough. Raleigh glanced over at her face on his screen and saw that her expression was grave, her eyes fixed on her own controls. Her eyes moved from screen to screen, her hands moving over the console in controlled patterns.

"Stay on your guard, Wolf," was all she said, before lowering her rifle and drawing her unit's beam sabers. The swords flared into life, one in each of her mobile suit's hands. "I'm heading in."

"Lieutenant—," Raleigh began as she sped past him.

He hesitated a brief moment, floating there above the mobile suits and the conflict, before shouldering his mobile suit's rifle and moving to cover her.

Residential Apartment, Martius Three

From his computer screen, the battle playing out in the Mediterranean didn't seem real, a series of colored dots moving across his screen in patterns that alternated between controlled and chaotic. It reminded him of a demo he had once seen in one of his classes, a video of Brownian motion. He sat on his bed and watched the screen, the TV in his apartment turned to the news channel, and waited for the exact moment that the world would be turned on its axis.

The news continued to play, ongoing coverage of the PLANT Supreme Council in session on Aprillius One, a green-haired reporter speaking on the usual drama between Moderates and Radicals, aired out for the entire world sphere to see. The ticker tape at the bottom of the broadcast talked about some Earth celebrity's decision to make her child a Coordinator.

Twenty years of peace.

He felt an odd mixture of anticipation and unease as he watched the screen, feeling as though he was watching a timer ticking down. The new Earth Alliance ship, the Seraph, had come into play.

It's time, Xue thought, unconsciously holding his breath.

A cluster of activity flared up on the corner of his screen, a white dot launching into the battle like a comet streaking across the Earth sky. A name popped up beside the dot, identifying the suit for him.

Deimos.

Mediterranean Coast, Eurasian Federation

Raleigh was still in the air when the enemy mobile suit arrived.

It rushed towards them almost too fast to see, a flash of red out of the corner of his vision. Raleigh's mobile suit screamed alarms, the interior of his cockpit flashing red as it registered the newcomer. He heard Lt. Acosta's shout of "Ensign!", heard explosions as the flash tore through the mobile suits nearest him, and some instinct for self-preservation made him act, throwing up his shields just as the newcomer barreled into him with all the force of a train. He flew back, his Gear's thrusters unable to compensate for the enemy mobile suit's thrust, and stared up at his screen, his eyes wide as he saw his opponent for the first time.

It was a sleek black mobile suit, carrying a curved beam weapon that was shaped like a sickle. The weapon glowed a bright red, the source of the red light. Its eyes were red as well, and they seemed to stare at him through his cockpit, glowing.

He had a moment to register terror, his breath catching in his throat as he stared, wide-eyed at the enemy mobile suit. It tilted its head, almost as if it was curious.

Then it pushed off of his Gear's shield, flipping over in the air with alacrity before charging into the Gungnir's mobile suits, beam sickle flashing. The force it exerted when pushing away from him sent him flying back and Raleigh had to fight to regain control of his momentum. He stabilized his suit, his control panel flashing red to show him that the Gear's beam shielding was functioning at 30% efficiency.

The shield that had probably saved his life.

"Ensign Wolf!" shouted Lt. Acosta, flying up to him. "Are you alright?"

Raleigh glanced at her image on his screen and realized he was breathing through his open mouth, his breath coming in shallow pants as his heart hammered in his chest. He forced his hands to ease up their vise grip on the controls, his radar beeping as several suits lost connection almost instantly. The Gungnir and the Seraph both sent up retreat flares, something that Lt. Acosta glanced at with a curse before looking back at him.

"Wolf!" she said. "We're retreating!"

He nodded, managing to turn the Gear around and follow her as she shot off towards the Seraph. He still felt cold beneath his blue and silver pilot suit, his grip on the controls tighter than he would have liked. He managed to find his voice halfway back to the ship, what was left of their mobile suits racing to catch up behind them.

"That was—," he began. "That was…"

Lt. Acosta nodded, her expression grim.

"A Gundam."

Gungnir, Bridge

"I want ZAFT on the line!" Rear Admiral Lukas Virtanen shouted to one of his crewmen as the ship sped away from the battle, some of the stragglers from its mobile suit force still landing on top of it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Seraph's own smaller fleet returning to its hangar, the warship speeding away as fast as her engines would allow her.

"Now!" he said, looking back at his crew.

"Sir!" one of his communications officers barked. "Sending in a contact request to the PLANT Ambassador."

"Forget the politicians," said Virtanen, forcing himself to settle in his seat. "Send a contact request through Gibraltar. Get me Yamato."

Eurasian Federation Airspace

They had just flown out of range of the battle and Mitsuko had just started to relax when the blast slammed into the side of the plane, knocking them into a spin and setting off alarm sensors everywhere. Mitsuko heard a scream, realized belatedly that it had been hers. The world became a whirl of light and rotation and she was too busy trying to stabilize the plane to care about feeling embarrassed for it.

Her heart hammered in her chest, her thoughts racing a mile a minute as she and Alan tugged at unresponsive controls, trying to stop the spin and gain altitude again. The sensors screamed a warning about the right engine, but it was only damaged, not downed. A part of her mind registered that the plane could still fly even in atmosphere with one and a half engines.

And then the second blast struck the plane's tail, shoving her forward onto the controls.

The impact knocked her unconscious almost instantly, the blast the last thing she heard before they were falling.

Extra:

Deimos – Literally meaning "dread", Deimos was the son of Ares, the God of War in Greek mythology, and the personification of Terror. One of Mars's moons is named after him.