Gundam Wing: Journey to a New Battlefield

by operation meteor

The war is won, yet he cannot find peace. When a mission gone wrong throws Heero into another world, how will he survive? And how will he react when he is confronted with his greatest challenge yet? For love can be trickier than any battlefield foe...

14. Chapter 14

Author's Notes: Well, better late than never, i guess. Sorry this took so long, this is a VERY long and VERY detailed chapter. Lot's to cover, and with the exception of my apparently popular action scenes there's a little bit of everything in here. Before you dive right in, there's a few things we need to go over real quick.

1. In the anime, ZAFT's only aquatic naval vessel is the Vosgulov-class submarine/carrier. That is not the case here; I've given ZAFT a combined arms blue water fleet, like any modern (or futuristic) armed force should have.

2. Since Reverend Malchio's past is not mentoined at all in the canon, I took the liberty of giving him one, which I believe helps explain how he became who he is in the show. I hope you like it, if not that's ok, we're all entitled to our own opinions on characters.

3. There are several original units in this chapter. You'll know them when you see them. Also, the fighters used by the Eurasian Federation are not the traditional Spearheads from the anime; instead, they're based off of the Su-35 Flanker-e and the MiG-31 Foxhound (Russian Federation fighters, go ahead and google them if you want a general idea of the baseline material).

4. Since I haven't done this since chapter one, putting out a disclaimer again; I don't own Gundam Wing or Seed, Sunrise does. There, that should keep the lawyers happy.

5. Last but not least... a certain character makes a cameo in this chapter towards the end. I thought it was a nice touch, and it won't be the last time she appears in this fic either. You'll know her when you see her!

Well, enjoy!

Oh, and you might want to grab a sandwhich and a drink; you're gonna be here awhile.

Episode Fourteen: Gathering Shadows

Kira was stunned at the sight before him. He hadn't seen her in over a month, yet here she was; Lacus Clyne, the girl he'd brought aboard the Archangel, who in the short time they'd spent together had come to understand him in a way that very few people did. All the memories of his interactions with her during her stay aboard the warship came flooding back, and it took him a moment to collect himself and tear his glance away from the beautiful, smiling young woman before him and take in his surroundings.

He was lying in a gurney, out on a very large patio, with several bulky objects that he assumed were medical equipment right next to his bed. There were potted plants scattered about, and a staircase that led down to what appeared to be a garden. He saw a massive white house to his right, which he suspected belonged to the Clyne family, and bouncing all around his bed was a swarm of ball-shaped robots, the same kind as the pink one Lacus has brought aboard the Archangel. Indeed, after a few seconds Kira was able to spot the pink one amidst the rainbow of Haros before it jumped into Lacus's hands.

Kira once again turned his gaze towards the girl, who smiled as she sat down in a chair beside his bed, the pink Haro nestled in her lap. The young man could not have asked for a lovelier caretaker; her simple white dress, long and flowing pink-hair, pale and soft skin, and light blue eyes all gave Lacus an almost angelic aura.

"Miss Lacus!" he said, "What… what's going on? How did I get here?" Kira tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but a fresh wave of pain swept through his body as he did so. He groaned, prompting Lacus to gently push him back down.

"Kira, don't push yourself!" she said, "You're still badly injured; you could reopen your wounds."

He nodded as he lay back down. "Alright, sorry. Thank you, Miss Lacus."

She smiled. "You're welcome, Kira. And please, just call me Lacus, ok?"

Kira returned her smile, and felt his cheeks warming a little as he did so. "Ok… Lacus. Uhm, if you don't mind me asking…"

"How did you get here?" she finished for him, "Reverend Malchio found you on the island after your battle, and he rescued you. After he contacted me, my father and I helped arrange for him to bring you here. You've been unconscious for nearly two days."

"Who's Reverend Malchio?" he asked, looking around but not seeing anyone besides Lacus out on the patio with him.

"He's inside, along with my other guests," said Lacus, standing up, "Hang on, I'll go get them. Please don't try to move, ok?"

"Alright," said Kira. Lacus nodded before heading into the house, leaving Kira to wonder just what was going on. Obviously, Lacus knew that he was an Alliance pilot, and even if she wanted to help him, she must've known that bringing him to her homeland could put her at risk.

His musings were put on hold as Lacus came out of the house, with a pale-skinned man wearing black pants, a khaki shirt, and a strange robe. He had a cane, and Kira guessed from that and the way he always kept his eyes closed that he was blind. The man wasn't the only person with Lacus. There was another man as well, this one with black hair as well, along with light skin, but his eyes were open, revealing brown orbs. He was clean shaven, and wearing a blue and white ZAFT uniform. The fact that he was a member of the armed forces should've alarmed Kira, but the man had a relaxed smile on his face, and for some reason the young pilot was reminded of Andrew Waltfeld. He didn't know why, but he felt that he had nothing to fear from this newcomer.

The four ladies behind him, though, were not strangers at all. Kira gaped in shock as he saw each member of the legendary Valkyrie Team look over and smile at him, Shemei Rehema in her white Commander's uniform, while Adaline, Lan, and Priscilla all wore red ones.

The Egyptian beauty winked as she and her subordinates walked over with Lacus and her other guests. "Hey, Kira," she said, "I'd ask how you were doing, but considering all the bandages on you, that'd be a pretty dumb question. Still, you're alive, aren't you? So there's a silver lining for you!"

"Commander Rehema," said Kira, "what are you doing here?"

"Awe, is that any way to greet us, cutie?" said Lan, grinning as she came up beside his bed. She reached over and started messing with his hair. "Long time no see, Mr. Strike Pilot!"

Adaline came up behind her and put her in a full nelson, dragging her back. "Honestly, Lan," she sighed, "give the poor kid some space. He nearly died, for god's sake!" She looked over Lan's shoulder and smiled at Kira. "Sorry about that, Kira. It's good to see you're conscious. We came by yesterday when Lacus called us, but you were still out cold."

"We're glad you're alright," said Priscilla as she came forward, smiling as well, "and Lacus was very worried about you. She hardly left your side, as a matter of fact."

"Really?" said Kira, feeling a bit of heat rushing to his face. He looked over at Lacus as she came up to the bed, once again smiling at him. Why would she do that for me?, he thought.

He then turned to the black-haired man in the blue uniform, who was standing next to Shemei. The two of them approached the bed, and the soldier held out his hand. "I'm Eric Bristow," he said, "Field Marshall, and a friend of Shemei's. Nice to meet you, Kira. I heard a lot about you from Shemei and Waltfeld."

Kira shook his hand, though his face fell at the mention of the Desert Tiger. "I see. I'm sorry… about what happened."

Eric raised an eyebrow, puzzled for a moment, before smiling. "Don't be. He sends his regards, and apologizes for being unable to come over with us. He's meeting with some friends of ours; he'll probably stop by in a few days, along with Aisha."

Kira's eyes widened in shock. "What? You can't mean… that's not possible… I…"

"Killed them?" Eric finished for him, "Nope, though you came close. Both were seriously wounded, true, but they're alive. I've got a message from them for you, in fact."

"What is it?" asked Kira.

"They both want you to know that they don't hold anything against you," he replied, "You guys were on opposite sides, and had to fight. That's all there was to it. Both of them think quite highly of you, you know."

"The same goes for me," said Shemei, giving Kira a soft smile, a gentle gleam in her silver eyes, "even though you nearly killed them, I don't have anything against you. Even if you had killed them, I probably wouldn't; I know that none of them would've wanted me to hate someone like you. You're a good kid in a bad situation; both of them recognize that, and so do I."

"Oh…" said Kira, "thank you. I'm glad they're both alive."

"You're welcome," said Shemei, "and yeah, so am I."

Kira then looked over at the blind man. "Uhm, who is he?"

Shemei smiled and followed his gaze. "Oh, Reverend! Our friend here wishes to make your acquaintance."

The man nodded and came over. Lacus moved next to him and smiled. "This is Reverend Malchio," she said, "He found you after the battle and brought you here."

"It is fortunate that I found you when I did," said Malchio, nodding, "your wounds were very severe, even for a Coordinator. Fortunately, with the help of Miss Lacus and her father, I was able to bring you here for treatment."

Kira nodded. "Thank you, Reverend Malchio. Hey, Lacus, could you tell your father that I said thanks as well?"

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that," said a new voice.

The whole crowd looked over to see a tall man with blonde-brown hair, a mustache, and blue eyes. He was wearing khaki pants, a white button-up shirt, and a blue jacket. The man had a regal bearing to him, though to Kira it seemed somewhat tainted by a sense of weariness and discouragement.

Kira saw Bristow and the others smile as he approached. "Mr. Clyne," said the Field Marshal, "is Ms. Canaver coming out as well?'

He shook his head. "No, I just saw her out the front door; she had a staff meeting to get to before the next Supreme Council session. She sends her apologies." He then looked over at Kira. "Along with her well-wishes; we've all been quite worried about you, Kira Yamato."

Kira's eyes widened as he realized that he was face-to-face with the leader of the PLANTs. He bowed his head. "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Chairman."

He was surprised to hear the man give a slight laugh, and looked up curiously as he spoke. "I'm afraid you're a bit behind the times, young man," he said, "I've lost the Chairmanship; Patrick Zala rules the Coordinators now." His voice seemed to sour at the mention of the man who had taken his place.

Still, Mr. Clyne's tone was of little importance to Kira when compared to what he'd said. Athrun's father is the head of the PLANTs now? I had no idea…

"Well," said Clyne, drawing Kira's attention back to him, "that's not important at the moment. What matters is that you're alive and conscious again. I've been hoping to meet you for some time actually, Kira Yamato."

"You have," said Kira, "why?"

He smiled. "To thank you, of course. My daughter has told me a great deal about you, and holds you in high regard. You have my sincerest gratitude for saving her life. My family is indebted to you."

Kira blushed at that and looked down again. "Oh, no… it was nothing, really."

Clyne laughed and turned to his daughter. "As modest as you said he was, my dear."

Kira looked back up to see Lacus smile at her father before turning back to Kira. His face warmed slightly as she put her hand on his shoulder. "Kira," she said, "you can stay here as long as you'd like. No one here will betray you to ZAFT; you're among friends here, and we'll do all we can to make sure you recover."

"Thank you, Miss Lacus… I mean, Lacus," he said, blushing again.

The pink-haired beauty giggled a bit at that. "You're welcome, Kira."

At that moment the young man's stomach growled, prompting smiles and laughs from everyone around him… much to Kira's embarrassment.

"It seems our guest is hungry," said Mr. Clyne, "Natural, of course, considering how long you've been out, young man. I'll go have something prepared. I must say, your timing is excellent; I could use some food myself right about now."

"As could the rest of us," said Shemei, "Not to complain, but that meeting took forever, and I'm starving!" The Valkyrie smiled. "So how about we get some lunch going?"

"Here, here!" said her three subordinates.

"Sounds good to me," said Eric.

"Yes," said Reverend Malchio, "that would be nice."

Kira smiled at the people around him, forgetting, for the moment, the terrible battle that had led to him winding up in this situation. They're all good people, he thought, I'll be fine here.

He then looked over at Lacus, who was still smiling at him. He remembered her mentioning that he had been out for almost two days… and that the blond girl, Priscilla, had said that she'd hardly left his side during that time. He was certainly grateful to her for that, but now he started to wonder; why had she been so dedicated, especially after all the time that had passed since they had last seen each other?

….

"So, you're still alive after all?" said Yzak as he came down the gangway, hefting his duffel bag over his shoulder.

Athrun nodded as he waited for his comrade on the dock of the Carpentaria base. It had been three days since the battle in the Marshall Islands, and the Cousteau had just returned on the news that Athrun was alive. The son of the new Supreme Chairman of the PLANTs was still recuperating from his injuries, and had not received any new orders from the homeland yet. Therefore, all he could do was sit idle at the base until the higher ups finally got around to giving him orders.

"It's good to see you again, Yzak," said Athrun, holding out his right hand.

The silver haired young man took it, and Athrun was surprised to see a genuine smile on his face. "I'm glad you're ok," he said, "I can't have you dying before I get promoted ahead of you, after all."

Athrun chuckled, knowing his comrade wouldn't admit to being worried about his rival… which was fine by him. He then became serious as he spoke again. "Any word on Dearka?"

Yzak shook his head. "No, no signs of him or the Buster anywhere. Also… they found debris from the Blitz scattered around the area. They haven't located Nicole yet."

Athrun sighed. "They won't, Yzak. He died… I saw it myself. The Blitz exploded… I'm sure his body was vaporized in the blast."

Yzak's eyes widened for a moment, but he regained his composure quickly. "I see…" he said, looking down. He clenched his fists before stomping on the dock. "Damn it!" he hissed, trembling.

Athrun looked down as well, unable to tell Yzak why he'd died… to protect him from the Strike.

The two of them just stood there for a minute or two, a mournful silence between them as they remembered their fallen friend… and hoped that their last missing comrade was still alive.

Finally Yzak looked up and spoke. "Well… sorry, but I don't have time to stick around and chat. The Duel's going to be loaded on a transport plane, and I have to make sure I'm with it."

"Where are you going?" asked Athrun.

"Kaoshiung spaceport," said Yzak, "I'm being transferred to Operation Spitbreak, and I guess they're staging it from there. How about you; any word on a new assignment yet?"

Athrun shook his head. "No, nothing. I guess I'll just have to sit tight here until orders come down from the top brass."

"I see," said Yzak. He nodded at Athrun and walked past him. "Well, take care, alright? Don't go dying before I become your commanding officer, you got that?"

Athrun nodded, chuckling again as he did so. "Ok, Yzak. Watch yourself, alright?"

"Sure," said the silver haired pilot, waving over his shoulder, "See you around, Athrun."

….

The sun was high in the sky as the Archangel cruised towards the Atlantic Federation's Pearl Harbor base. As he looked out the forward viewport, Heero could see the silhouette of four ships approaching in the distance. He wasn't concerned though; Alliance Naval patrols had made contact with them hours ago, and had stated that they would send an escort for the white vessel's final approach to the base.

He looked over at Murrue, who wasted no time in issuing orders. "Contact the ships ahead of us," she said, "confirm their status as our escorts and prepare to move into formation."

"Aye, Captain," said Natarle.

After a few tense seconds, the crew breathed a sigh of relief as the lead warship, the destroyer Coral Sea, responded with confirmation to their hails. It had been three days since the battle in the Marshall Islands, and while they had not come under enemy attack since then, everyone aboard had remained nervous. Now that they were practically on the doorstep of the Alliance's Pacific Fleet HQ, they could finally relax.

Heero looked up as the destroyer's skipper sent an additional message to the Archangel. "We've received orders from JOSH-A to assist you in your repairs," he said, "however, your vessel is permitted to stay at Pearl Harbor for no more than forty-eight hours. Any further maintenance you require that cannot be accomplished in that time will have to be done either at sea or when you reach Alaska."

"Understood," said Murrue, "we'd appreciate it if you could get started as soon as we dock."

"Repair crews are already standing by," the destroyer's Captain replied, "and we work much faster than those slackers in Orb; don't worry, we'll have your ship as good as new, or nearly so, before you leave. Coral Sea out."

As the officer cut the connection, Murrue sighed before turning to Heero. Giving him a small smile, she spoke. "Do you think I should tell them that Orb was slacking on purpose in order to maximize the amount of time they'd have to make use of you and Kira?"

Heero shook his head. "Mechanics can be as prideful as anyone else, but in this case that pride also translates into high morale, which will boost their productivity. Better to let them keep their egos inflated for the time being, so long as they get most of the repairs that we need done."

Murrue nodded, and this time she appeared a bit concerned. "I suppose you're right… but do you think that two days will be enough for them to repair the damage we took? I know Chief Murdoch and his team has done a lot of work, but there's only so much they can do while we're still under way."

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Heero, "remember, the damage we took in the Marshall Islands wasn't nearly as bad as what the Archangel suffered at Orb's border. Even with only two days, I'm sure they'll be able to get the port side engine up to full operational status, along with getting a good deal of work done on the weapons that are out of commission. Anything they leave undone, Murdoch and his crew will be able to complete repairs on while we're under way."

Smiling again, Murrue nodded. "You have a good point there. I'll have Lieutenant Badgiruel speak to the dock-master about replenishing our supplies as well. As things are, I know we're fine for the remainder of our voyage, but it can't hurt to top off our munitions and rations. You never know what might happen along the way, after all; this trip has certainly been unpredictable."

Heero nodded. "Yeah, I won't argue with you there."

The two of them turned back to the forward viewport and watched as the four destroyers moved into a diamond formation around the Archangel. At the same time, two squadrons of six F-7D Spearhead fighters each flew over head, fanning out over the five vessels.

Eventually, the island of Oahu, the third largest in the Hawaiian chain, appeared on the horizon. As the Archangel and her escorts made their way towards the mouth of the harbor, Murrue turned to Heero. As the Gundam pilot met her gaze, he saw that her beautiful brow eyes were almost glowing with gratitude, relief... and something else, though he had difficulty finding the right word for it. He couldn't say for certain, given his limited experience with women, but it seemed like… affection, or even adoration. Whatever it was, the gleam it produced in her eyes made her all the more beautiful to him.

"Heero," she said, "thank you… for all you've done up until now. We wouldn't have made it this far without you.'

He nodded, smiling slightly in return. "You're welcome, Murrue… and don't worry; I'll continue to stay with this ship… and protect you… for as long as you'll have me."

"That may well be a very long time yet," she replied, "who can say when this war will end, after all?"

"I don't care how long it goes on," said Heero, "I'm not abandoning you... whether it be during this war, or when it's over."

"Heero…" she said, her eyes widening a bit at his words. After a moment, her smile grew a little bigger. "Very well, then. We'll get through this war together, I know we will… and face what comes afterwards too."

"Roger that," said Heero.

….

Sitting at the head of the table in the dimly lit conference room, Admiral William Sutherland clasped his hands in front of him. A tall man with brown-blond hair and steely grey eyes, the Supreme Commander of OMNI Enforcer, the umbrella organization of the Atlantic Federation's armed forces, the Admiral was a battle hardened veteran of not just the early campaigns of the current conflict but several brush-fire wars across the Earth Sphere. While presenting a calm, professional exterior, the man's true nature was in fact the same as the rest of the officers that were sitting around the table with him; a burning hatred of the freaks of science that had dared to defile the name of Humanity, the Coordinators. Therefore, it would've been no surprise to those that truly knew him that he was a member of the anti-Coordinator group Blue Cosmos, though for appearances sake it was a connection that he could not openly disclose… at least not yet.

Soon, he thought, the tide will turn, and those space monsters will rue the day that they dared to invade our pure and blue world. Our revenge is nigh, as is the Day of Judgment for those abominations. However, first we must attend to more immediate concerns; we can't well neglect our final preparations, after all.

Looking at the other officers at the table, he spoke. "Gentleman," he said, "as I'm sure you are aware, the Archangel arrived at the Pacific Fleet's headquarters a little over three hours ago. My reason for calling this meeting, as several of you have no doubt guessed, is to determine exactly what we shall do with that ship and her crew once they reach JOSH-A."

"With all due respect, sir," said Vice-Admiral Vickers, a balding, overweight man, "should we not have called Azrael here as well? Due to the rather… unique circumstances regarding that ship, it would seem that he would have a vested interest in the matter."

"There's no need," said Sutherland, "I've already contacted Azrael, and he has given me full discretion on the matter… provided we deal with the Coordinator child that defiled the Strike."

"That problem seems to have already dealt with itself," said a rail-thin, grey haired man; Rear-Admiral Thompson. "According to the latest transmissions from the Archangel, it was destroyed in battle with the Aegis."

"True enough," said Vickers, "but what of the… contamination? The Archangel's crew has been exposed to prolonged close contact with a Coordinator now, and according to the report filed by Admiral Halberton before his demise, the boy was treated, dare I say it, humanely. How could our soldiers treat such an aberration like it's one of us? They must be dealt with!"

"I agree," said a muscular, dark skinned man; Rear-Admiral Bernard. "Also, according to the latest report, they've taken on another Coordinator; the pilot of the Buster. Though this one is being held as a prisoner, the fact remains that contamination has occurred. It is obvious that the crew of the Archangel cannot be trusted to prosecute the war in a manner suited to our ultimate objective; Captain Ramius in particular has been too soft with regards to the Coordinators."

"Not all of them are beyond saving," said Thompson, "According to the report provided by Captain Hallsworth before his death alongside Halberton, Lieutenant Badgiruel shares no such compassion. While she displayed no signs of similar feelings to ours, the manner in which she carries out her duties is strictly by-the-book, and she is a veteran officer; a useful tool."

"There is also the Allster girl to consider," said Vickers, "after all, her father was known to be sympathetic to our… organization; it's possible she could be persuaded to support us. Her family fortune would be a valuable asset, after all."

"Not to mention the Hawk of Endymion," said Bernard, "while he's given no indications of identifying with any of our ideals, the man's skills could prove useful, especially as an instructor to our younger, more… like-minded pilots."

"I'll file the three of them away for further consideration, then," said Sutherland, "After we've conducted final debriefings with Captain Ramius and Lieutenant Badgiruel, I will initiate transfer procedures if I deem it prudent."

"What of Wing Zero?" said Vickers, "That machine is far beyond anything else in this war, and the same goes for its pilot, this 'Heero Yuy'. Surely we must unlock the secrets behind that mobile suit; it would give us total dominance in this war."

"I don't think you thoroughly read Halberton's report, Vice-Admiral," said Bernard, scowling, "the pilot of that machine is incredibly security conscious; any attempts on our part to tamper with it could result in blowing our base to kingdom come."

"We certainly can't have that," said Thompson, "at least… not until we're ready."

"The pilot himself may be the key," said Sutherland, "Halberton's report did not give much mention regarding Yuy's psychological profile, or even his motivations for fighting. The pilot was not forthcoming with details of his history or affiliations. Then again, Halberton always was sentimental when it came to younger soldiers, so he probably didn't press the matter as hard as he could've."

"So what do you suggest?" said Vickers, "Bring him in along with Ramius and Badgiruel for the debriefing and grill him there?"

"That was precisely what I had in mind," said Sutherland, "It will give us a chance to judge him for ourselves, without any of Halberton's… bias."

"And if he proves to be as intractable then as he was before?" said Thompson, "Do we move on the machine and pilot and risk triggering the mobile suit's self-destruct?

"No, there's no need to put ourselves in any unnecessary danger," said Sutherland, "We'll simply make use of Wing Zero and Heero Yuy in another manner."

"How so?" said Bernard.

Sutherland gave his cohorts a cruel smile. "Why, the same way we'll deal with the Archangel and her crew's contamination, of course."

"You've yet to mention how we're going to do that, either," sneered Vickers.

"Consider this, Vice-Admiral," said Sutherland, in a tone that smacked of sarcastic patronage, "ZAFT has devoted considerable resources in their attempts to destroy both the Archangel and Wing Zero. Together… they'd make the perfect bait."

"I see," said Bernard, a smug smile on his face, "I agree, and I believe that is the best way to go."

"Yes, though we'll lose the chance to study Wing Zero," said Vickers.

"It hardly matters," said Sutherland, "That mobile suit… that Gundam, as some of the Archangel's crew have called it… is, in the end, an anomaly, and a potential wild card. Its technology is incredibly advanced, true, and the pilot is extraordinarily talented, but they are only one boy and mobile suit each. The second generation GAT machines are nearly online, and with the combat data from the Strike we'll be able to bring the new mass-production models to the front sooner than expected. Wing Zero will be rendered irrelevant. The same goes for the Buster; it can die along with the Archangel."

"How ironic," said Thompson, "that it should be a Coordinator child that gives us Naturals the key to finally being able to pilot mobile suits."

"It is well that the child, this 'Kira Yamato', is dead," said Bernard, "It would be embarrassing to have knowledge of his involvement in the GAT series become known."

"A secret easily erased with the boy's demise," said Sutherland. He stood up, and his fellow officers followed suit. "So, we are agreed then? The Archangel will serve as bait, with Wing Zero as well, since the odds are in favor of Heero Yuy not cooperating with us."

The three officers nodded, and Sutherland smiled. "Very well, then. I'll contact Azrael later and update him on the situation; let him know that we're including the Archangel and probably Wing Zero as well in our plan."

"Speaking of the plan," said Thompson, "I'm amazed that you were able to convince the Eurasians to send so many of their forces over here. I'm not complaining, mind you; the more they send, the greater our power will be when it's all over. Still, how did you con them into this?"

"It was simple enough," said Sutherland, "I informed Moscow that we would be gathering forces throughout the Pacific for a large-scale counter-offensive against the occupying armies in the East Asian Federation. While they're still not completely friendly to us due to the debacle at Artemis, it was easy enough to play on their vanity and convince them that their contributions to our campaign would bring them both glory and a better position at the bargaining table when this war's over." He chuckled cruelly. "Of course, I neglected to tell them that there would not even be a bargaining table; after all, by the time this war is over, there won't be a single Coordinator left alive to negotiate with. Combined with the Archangel and Wing Zero, the Eurasian forces will ensure that those space monsters come running into our trap."

He looked over at a screen on the wall, currently displaying a map of the Pacific theatre of the war. His smile became a sneer as his eyes settled on Kaoshiung… where he knew that ZAFT was gathering its forces in preparation for their offensive.

"For the preservation of our blue and pure world," he snarled, "we will make any sacrifice necessary to ensure the total destruction of those who would defile the natural order."

….

The sun beat down on the Perfect Soldier even as it set, turning the sky a brilliant orange-red. Sweat gathering at his brow, he continued his practice session out on the upper deck of the Archangel. Wrapping up a sequence of mid-level thrusts, he smoothly transitioned into a series of diagonal slashes, his saber glistening with crimson light as dusk settled in over Pearl Harbor. There was a cacophony of noise all around him as mechanic crews scrambled over the Archangel, working furiously to repair the damage the vessel had suffered in the Marshall Islands. However, Heero scarcely paid any heed to the racket; he had other things on his mind as he continued his exercises.

The ship had arrived at the Pacific Fleet HQ over four hours ago, and while the lower ranking crew members had been given an opportunity to relax, there was no such reprieve for the senior officers, particularly the Captain. Heero knew that even now, Murrue was in her office, putting together the final report that she would present to the Alliance top brass upon their arrival at the Alaska base. Likewise, Lieutenant Badgiruel, in her role as Murrue's Executive Officer, was compiling her own report, which among other things would include a performance evaluation of her superior. It was one of the duties of any warship's second-in-command, Heero was well aware of that, but that didn't stop it from making him uneasy.

In his eyes, Murrue had gone above and beyond the call of duty in her efforts to not only get the Archangel to Alliance territory in one piece, but also to preserve the lives of her crew to the best of her abilities. To Heero, her performance had been exemplary, and spoke volumes of Murrue's strength, intelligence, and compassion; qualities that drew him to her like no other woman ever had.

However, he was well aware that Lieutenant Badgiruel had a list of grievances with the beautiful Captain. While Natarle's conduct on the bridge had been civil and even respectful with regards to her superior, Heero knew that her by-the-book tendencies put her at odds with Murrue's more humanistic and understanding approach to command. The Gundam pilot was not an expert on Alliance regulations, but he knew that Murrue had without a doubt bent or broke many of the rules in her determination to put the lives of her crew above all other concerns. Heero greatly admired her for it, but he knew as well as she did that it could get her into trouble with her superiors, and that Natarle would definitely call out her more serious offenses in her report.

Using black-market arms dealers to resupply the ship in North Africa, allowing a civilian to pilot the second Skygrasper, giving Orb access to the combat data of both the Strike and the Archangel… there were plenty of bones for the no-nonsense Lieutenant to pick at, that was for sure.

Heero was aware of all this, and more importantly, knew that Murrue was too, and that it all no doubt weighed heavily on her, especially the closer the Archangel came to Alaska. He wanted to help her in some way, but wasn't sure how. The young man had asked her if he could help her compose her report when he'd walked with her to her office, but Murrue had given him a weary smile and shook her head.

"Believe me, Heero," said Murrue, "I appreciate the offer, I really do, but this is something I need to do myself. It's one of my duties as Captain of this ship… and besides, you've already done so much for me as it is. You should take this opportunity to relax a little; in all likelihood, we won't get another chance for quite awhile once we leave here."

Heero was unwilling to let the matter rest. "Murrue, let me help you. You know that Lieutenant Badgiruel is composing her own report as we speak, and that she's taken issue with several of your decisions during our voyage. I want to help with your report, with responding to her criticisms. You're the best damn commanding officer I've ever seen, and the people on this ship would've died without you. I want to help with your defense!" He was surprised at just how passionate he was becoming; his voice had risen at the end, and he could feel a strange burning sensation within his chest.

Murrue smiled again, and this time there was none of the weariness that had been in it earlier. "Heero," she said, "knowing that you support my decisions, that you have my back… that's all the help I need. I'll do this on my own… but thank you, Heero."

She quickly took him into a hug, which he returned without hesitation. After a moment they parted, and Heero nodded at her. "Alright, then… good luck."

Murrue nodded, gave him one more smile, and then went into her office.

He knew that she had told him to relax, but the frustration at being unable to help her would not subside, and he was unable to do so. So, in an effort to relieve some of the tension that was building within him, he'd grabbed his sword and gone out on the top deck, where he had swiftly thrown himself into a vigorous practice session. His movements were faster and more precise than they had ever been before, but even as he increased his pace he could not seem to exorcise the frustration he was feeling.

I can't recall the last time I've experienced anything like this, he thought as he transitioned to a sequence of parries, backpedalling across the deck as he did so, this pent up anxiety, this anger at being unable to help Murrue… why is it so strong?

Stopping mere inches away from the edge of the deck, Heero threw himself back onto the offensive, initiating a lighting fast series of cuts aimed at where his foe's legs would be. He barely had to devote any thought to the moves; his instincts had sharpened even further with regards to his swordplay, leaving his mind free to wonder. Which it did… to the amazing woman who had captured his focus, his feelings, in a way no one else ever had.

Whenever he wasn't preoccupied, his mind would turn to Murrue. Hell, even when he should be focused on a particular task, he would often think about her; Heero was a very capable multi-tasker, after all. She was just so unlike any woman he'd ever encountered before. Her strength, her beauty, her intelligence, her compassion… all had conspired to captivate him in a way that nothing else ever could.

She drew him to her, exerted a pull that was more powerful than anything he'd ever felt before. More importantly, he wanted to be pulled in; the way she had expressed her gratitude towards him, had wanted to know so much about him, had come to care about him… intoxicating seemed like such a vulgar word to describe it, but he couldn't think of any other way to put it at the moment.

And he cared about her, more so than anyone else in his life. He'd wanted to know more about her as well, and was grateful to her in a manner that mirrored her feelings towards him; she was someone he could trust with his life… and, the more he thought about it, his heart.

Slowly, he felt himself come to a stop, winding down his last sequence of moves until finally the blade stopped moving completely, and he simply pointed it down at the deck. Taking a moment to catch his breath, as well as wipe some of the sweat from his brow, he realized that the part of him that felt the hottest was not his head or arms or any portion of his body that he had physically exerted; it was his heart. It burned with a passion he had never felt before, and only recently had he begun to realize just what the right word was for it; love.

Heero Yuy, the Perfect Soldier, the deadliest man not just in the After Colony timeline, but the Cosmic Era as well…

… was in love with Murrue Ramius.

A small smile creeping onto his face, he realized that he would never be able to work out his frustrations just through physical exercise. They could only be subdued by helping the woman that had captured his heart. Though she had insisted on doing her work alone, Heero knew that there was more than one way to aid her.

It may not be much, he thought, but it's still something… and if I really have fallen in love with her, then I have to do all I can to help her, even if it may not be in the manner that I'd originally intended.

The young man still wasn't completely certain of his feelings, along with how he should act on them; there were serious implications to consider, especially the trouble Murrue could potentially get into due to his age.

But that was alright. The young man knew that he didn't have to rush to confront his new obstacles right away. He'd face those issues when the time came… and if Murrue felt the same way that Heero was beginning to realize he did, then he wouldn't have to face them alone.

….

Murrue sighed, putting her head in her hands as she did so. I've been at this nearly four hours now, she thought, yet it seems like there's still so much more to do. Individual commendations, detailed post-action accounts, our interactions with the civilians we've met on our voyage… I probably won't finish this until we reach Alaska.

She was jolted out of her thoughts by her buzzer going off. "Just a second," she said.

Saving what she'd completed so far, Murrue closed her report before standing up and heading to the office's door. When she opened it, an unexpected though certainly welcome sight greeted her.

Heero was standing in the doorway, holding a tray laden with food. Judging by the amount, Murrue realized that it was meant for both of them. She saw the Gundam pilot give her a small smile.

"I know you don't want my help on your report," he said, "and I'll respect your wishes. However, that doesn't mean I can't do something to ease your burden." He looked down at the tray he was holding, then back up at her. "I was thinking the two of us could have dinner in here; I know you've been working for hours, and I'm sure you could use a bite to eat."

A warm feeling spread through Murrue, so touched was she by his thoughtfulness. Heero, she thought, even after I told you to go relax, take a break that you have earned a hundred times over, you still want to help me… you're really something special, you know that?

She smiled at him. "Thank you, I'd love to. Please, come inside. I'll pull up a chair for you."

Murrue stepped aside to let him in before closing the door. Then she went over to the area in front of her desk, where two chairs for soldiers called to her office for any reason could sit, and pulled one closer to her workspace. Clearing the surface of the desk, she stepped back as Heero put the tray down, then took her own seat as the Gundam pilot followed suit.

She grabbed a bag of chips and a sandwich from the tray, while Heero took an apple, some crackers, and a bottle of water. The two of them smiled at each other from across the desk as they dug into their meal. They didn't speak, but then again, they didn't have to. There was a quiet sense of understanding between them at the moment, and they did not need words to convey just how much they cared for each other, how much the deep bond forged between them truly meant.

Glancing down at the blue stone on the necklace that Heero had bought for her oh-so-long-ago in Banadiya, she felt her face flush as she remembered why he'd given it to her; as a tribute to the bond that she treasured so dearly, a sign of just how important it had become to him as well.

A bond he wants to protect with his life, she thought, looking up at the Gundam pilot again, I feel the same way… I'd give anything to keep him safe, to make sure he can come back to me alive. I've loved before, but never like this, never so powerfully… and I can't imagine how Heero must feel. To have never loved before, knowing only a lifetime of war… if his feelings towards me are becoming more romantic, I'm sure he'll struggle with them, trying to figure out just what to do about them. I wish I could help him… but what he needs is time to come to understand them, and in the end, only he can really know what lies in his heart. It's something he needs to do himself; I cannot interfere. All I can do is show him my affection in a manner that doesn't overwhelm or take advantage of him, and above all not rush him. He's done so much to help me, to support me through all the trials and tribulations of our voyage… I have to do the same.

Murrue smiled as her eyes met Heero's. The young man gave another small one of his own before turning to grab a sandwich from the tray. After all, she thought, a strange but pleasant feeling of serenity and certainty flowing over her as she watched him, he's the man I've come to love. I'll give everything I've got to aid him… just as he has for me.

….

Down in the brig, Dearka sighed as he looked up at the ceiling from his cell bed. Damn, I'm bored.

It had been a dull few days since his encounter with the two girls in the legged ship's sickbay. Of course, that was to be expected; he was a prisoner, after all, and once the medical examinations had been completed he was promptly transferred back to the brig. Boredom was natural for a prisoner of war, though Dearka was mildly surprised that he hadn't been interrogated. Maybe they're just glad to have their machine back, he mused, thinking of the Buster. He couldn't help but smile slightly as an image of the green and tan machine flashed through his mind. We had a good run, didn't we, Buster? He was surprised to find that he had developed a kind of attachment to the mobile suit; Dearka Elsman had never been one to get sentimental over machinery, regardless of how impressive and important it was.

His musings were interrupted by a noise outside his cell. He turned to see what was going on, and was surprised to see the brown-haired girl from the sickbay standing there, the guard currently on duty watching her carefully. Miriallia, he thought, that's what Wing Zero's pilot called her, anyway.

Her eyes met his, and Dearka found himself feeling sorry for her as he saw the red surrounding her eyes. Remembering the encounter in the sickbay, he felt disgusted with himself as he recalled what he'd said about her boyfriend dying. He'd thrown those words out without thinking, not realizing until it was too late that that was exactly what had happened.

The girl looked down for a moment, cleared her throat nervously, and looked back up at him. "Hello," she said softly, "I… there's something I wanted to say to you… and something that I wanted to ask you, if you don't mind."

He nodded. "Alright," he said, "what is it?"

"First of all," she said, "I'm sorry that I attacked you. It was wrong, and I know my friends… and Tolle… wouldn't have wanted me to kill you. You didn't deserve that, and regardless of my emotional state, my actions were inexcusable. Forgive me."

Dearka sighed. "It's alright," he said, "and… I'm sorry too. Those words I said in the infirmary… that was callous and stupid. It doesn't matter that I didn't know what had happened; I shouldn't have said what I did, even as a bad joke."

Miriallia looked down again before meeting his gaze. "I forgive you."

"Thanks," said Dearka, "By the way… what did you want to ask me?"

"Well…" she said, nervously, "my boyfriend, Tolle… during the battle, he was piloting a fighter jet, a blue and white one. Did you…"

Dearka closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the engagement. He then opened them and responded. "I know there were two of them. I shot one, but it wasn't destroyed; I just damaged the engines, and I'm pretty sure it made an emergency landing on this ship. So, to answer your question; no, I wasn't the one who killed your boyfriend."

The girl looked relieved at his answer. "I see," she said, bowing her head, "thank you for answering me."

"No problem," he said.

An uneasy silence fell between the two of them for a few seconds before Miriallia broke it. "Well," she said, "I should go. Thank you for speaking with me… take care."

He nodded, and watched as she turned to go. Keeping his eyes on her until she was out of sight, the young man realized that she was actually kinda cute. Not bad for a Natural, he thought, turning back to staring at the ceiling. Despite the seriousness of the conversation that had just taken place, he couldn't help but smile slightly. I wonder… when this is all over… maybe I should try to find her. Miriallia… I'll have to remember that name.

….

"How are you feeling, Kira?" said Lacus as she came back out onto the patio. The 'sky' had become a mix of orange and red, the capitol's unofficial sunset well underway. She had just finished seeing out Reverend Malchio, the last of her guests to leave for the day. The monk had assured her that he would come by again tomorrow, and she was looking forward to speaking with him… hopefully while she sat outside with Kira.

She smiled as she approached his bed, and the young man returned it. "I'm doing ok," said Kira, "though I'm not sure if I'm up for walking yet."

"That's fine," said Lacus, sitting down next to him, "I don't want you to yet anyway. You've only just regained consciousness today, and you need more time to recover. Don't worry, your bed has wheels; I'll push you inside before night falls."

"Thanks," said Kira.

"You're welcome," she replied. The two of them looked out across the lake in the distance, admiring the reflection of the artificial sunset on the water's surface. The pink-haired songstress couldn't help but steal glances at Kira every few seconds. Ever since he had rescued her from drifting in space, she could not deny her curiosity about him… and her fondness for him. He was so kind, so gentle… he truly had a caring heart, and it tore at her own to know that he was forced to fight. When she had prayed at night, her thoughts would turn to him as much as they did her arranged fiancé, and she hoped that fate would find some way to allow Kira to leave the battlefield, to stop fighting against Athrun.

Now it had… though not in the manner that she would've wished for, and he'd still had to fight Athrun in the process. He hadn't spoken of their battle yet, but she knew from the reports that Field Marshal Bristow had shown her that it had been incredibly fierce, and she had a feeling that neither of the boys had been holding back then. She couldn't help but worry at the possible reasons for that, and feared that something terrible had happened to turn their friendship into a burning hatred. I know that Nicole Amalfi has been confirmed dead, she thought, and that he was a dear friend of Athrun's. Mr. Bristow also said that there was wreckage of an Earth Forces fighter jet at the scene along with the Strike… did Kira lose a friend as well? Did he and Athrun… kill each other's friends, destroying their own bond in the process? The more she thought about it, the more likely a possibility it seemed. How awful…

Though she wanted to hear from Kira himself what had happened, she decided that she would not press the issue at the moment. She had no doubt that the memory of the battle was fresh in his mind, and that it would be rude to bring up something so emotionally charged so soon after he had regained consciousness. Perhaps tomorrow, she thought, when Reverend Malchio is present… that may be best. Together, the two of us can find out what happened between Kira and Athrun… and maybe try to repair what damage has been done. We cannot undo the past, nor can we bring back the dead… but we can help Kira find peace, and perhaps the strength to reconcile with Athrun. We can't force him to do so, of course… but perhaps we can guide him down that path.

She looked over at the young man again, watching him stare out at the lake, a contemplative look in his violet eyes. I, for one, do not wish to see Kira consumed by hatred… I could not bear the thought of his gentle heart being twisted by revenge.

….

"I'm glad Kira's conscious now," said Shemei as she set down her mojito, turning to Eric, "I know Lacus was worried about him… probably still is, knowing her."

The Valkyrie and her friend had left the Clyne residence a little while ago, along with her subordinates. Since she'd had nothing going on that evening, Shemei had decided to invite Eric out for drinks, and he'd readily accepted. She was surprised that the girls had turned her down, though as they had parted ways she thought she detected a knowing look in their eyes. I wonder, she thought, if they think my feelings for Eric have grown? She smiled slightly. It'd be just like them, giving us some alone time like this… thanks, you three. I owe you one.

Her handsome companion for the evening nodded as he set his scotch glass down on the bar as well. The two of them had decided to go out to the Starshine, one of their favorite drinking establishments. The two of them, along with Aisha and Waltfeld, had frequented the place since their academy days. Shemei had fond memories of the long nights spent hustling her friends at billiards, going shot-for-shot with Aisha, and stumbling out the door in the early morning, more often than not leaning on Eric for support. It hadn't been a romantic gesture back then, though she knew that people had interpreted it as such. Rather, it had been because she knew he was a gentleman, and trusted him to help her get home safely on the occasions she'd had too much to drink. For his part, Eric was a moderate drinker, and rarely required similar assistance.

Looking back on those days, she realized just how much faith she'd had in him even then, and how it had only grown through the years. No matter what happens, she thought, no matter how bad things get… he's always the rock; the calm, solid center. We've always been able to go to him for support… and that hasn't changed.

She brought her mind back to the present as Eric spoke. "You're probably right," he said, "The girl's caring and selfless to a fault… from what Clyne said, Lacus hardly got any sleep while he was unconscious. Hopefully that'll change now that he's at least out of the danger zone. His wounds are still severe, but with the treatment Kira's received they're no longer life threatening. That should put her at ease a bit."

"I hope so," said Shemei, looking down at her drink in thought, "Lacus… she doesn't show it often, but I know she's worried about what's happening to our government, what direction Zala is taking us in. The girl's a lot brighter than many give her credit for… even her father, at times."

"I won't argue there," replied Eric, "However… I still can't say I'm completely comfortable with getting her involved in our… activities. For all her experience, both as the daughter of the former head of state and as a public figure in her own right, Lacus is still a sixteen year old girl. Politics and the kind of cloak and dagger war we're involved in with the radicals is a cutthroat game, and the learning curve is a harsh one… perhaps too harsh for someone like her."

"I know," sighed Shemei, "but we don't have a choice. Her resources, her popular appeal… we need her, whether we like it or not. You and I have repeatedly stressed the risks to her, but Lacus still insists on doing all she can to help us find a way to stop Zala from turning an already brutal war into a pure slaughter."

"Speaking of slaughter," said Eric, "a friend of mine stationed at Kaoshiung passed along a grim tidbit of news to me yesterday; Schwarze Team is confirmed to be taking part in Operation Spitbreak, and they've been outfitted with DINN Mk. IIs."

"Damn," Shemei hissed. Taking a sip from her mojito, she turned to her friend. "Eric, I respect the fact that even in your anger when you caught up to Zubov in China you didn't kill him on the spot and went through the proper protocols… but you really should've shot him when you had the chance, along with the rest of his team."

"You're right," said Eric, looking down in shame, "I've always been determined to treat every soldier, friendly or hostile, with respect, and act according to the conventions of war… but I should've made an exception for that piece of shit. Because I decided to go by the book, Zubov walked free… and he's been killing ever since, and his body count will only skyrocket come Spitbreak."

"Hey," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder, "It's true that you didn't kill him when you could've, but it also wasn't your fault that he went free. You arrested and charged him and his unit, and by rights they should've faced the firing squad. It was Zala and his cronies that saved his neck, and you still pressed the issue, tried to keep the case open and Zubov contained. You acted with the responsibility and honor of a true soldier… that's far more than anyone can say about the rest of the Defense Council."

He looked up at her, smiling slightly as he did so, and causing her to do the same. "Shemei… thank you."

"You're welcome, Eric," she replied, "Also, and I meant to say this earlier, thank you for slipping away to come with us to visit Lacus and Kira today. I know you've been busy as hell with reviewing the homeland defenses, and I'm sure us stealing you away set you back on your work."

"It's alright, don't worry about it," said Eric, "Today I was just supposed to inspect the capitol defense squadrons… and I delegated that to my aide; it's an easy enough job. The Defense Lines are another matter, though; I need to tour all six of them personally, and I'm starting at the Jachin Due Line tomorrow. Avalon comes next, and the other zones as I get to them."

"Do you have to go to them all in person?" asked Shemei, "Wouldn't it be easier to just send out your own officers and then compile everything at your office?"

Eric sighed. "It would, and I'll have aides touring portions of the defenses for me, but I'm still required to make a personal appearance on all six of the Lines. It's the Council's way of getting me out of their hair for a few days."

"I understand," said Shemei, "It sucks, and it's all political bullshit, but I know why they're making you do it. You rattled their cage, and now they're making you pay for it."

"Yup," said Eric, "still, I haven't lost too much of the Council's confidence; Zala still see's keeping me on as useful, particularly as a means to smooth over relations with the ADB now that the nationalization measures have been implemented. There are a lot of ruffled feathers in my family at the moment, though my father still supports Zala."

"Too bad you can't talk him into throwing in with us," said Shemei, taking another sip of her mojito.

Eric joined her, putting a dent in his scotch, before speaking. "Can't be helped, I'm afraid; my father's a staunch Coordinator Supremacist. He'll back the radical faction until the war is over, regardless of how much they may interfere with the company. None of the members of the board of directors at ADB have been replaced yet, which is one of the reasons he hasn't turned against Zala, though a 'political representative' was appointed by the government."

"I'm willing to bet that other companies are experiencing similar such appointments," said Shemei.

"No bet," said Eric, "that's exactly what's going on. It's like an economic version of the commissar system used by the old Soviet Union."

"An interesting comparison," said Shemei, "though if I recall correctly, the government owned all the industries anyway, so your analogy would apply only to the Red Army. Speaking of armies, has a political officer system been implemented yet in ZAFT? I haven't heard anything yet, though I admit I've been spending most of my time with the girls running simulations for the research teams."

"I haven't heard any word of such a system," Eric replied, "I think Zala wants to avoid creating too much friction with the regular forces; there's already enough contention between them and Special Operations as is, and I think the Chairman is willing to let things stand as they are for the time being without throwing radical faction appointees into every unit."

"Good," said Shemei, smirking, "I'd probably snap if my unit got pegged with a political officer. Then again, someone like that would probably get killed off early in a fight with Wing Zero, so I could always line them up for Heero to take them down for me."

The two of them laughed for a moment before speaking again. "Good point," said Eric, smiling, "unless you wind up with one that's only under orders to act as an observer. Then I think you'd have to arrange some friendly fire."

"Hey," said Shemei, a mischievous grin on her face, "the battlefield's a dangerous place; what's a few 'stray bullets' between political rivals?"

"Don't let the radicals hear you say that," replied Eric, "Seriously though, I don't think you have to worry about such a system coming on line. The top brass are mostly radicals anyway, so they hardly need political officers when they can discipline anyone who disobeys their orders through conventional means anyways."

"Alright," said Shemei, taking another sip of her drink. Eric joined her, finishing off his scotch. Shemei checked the clock on the wall and saw that it was getting late. "I think it's time to call it a night," she said, smiling at Eric, "I've got another long day of sim runs with the girls tomorrow."

"Yeah, I should turn in too," said Eric, sighing, "I'm getting an early start tomorrow, what with the trip out to Jachin Due and all."

Shemei moved to pull out her wallet, only for Eric to place his hand on hers. He gave her a small smile. "Don't worry, I've got this."

As he pulled out his own wallet and laid out some bills for the bartender, Shemei smiled. "Hey, I only had one drink," she said, "I can pay for my own, you know."

"It's fine," said Eric, looking a bit bashful, "I… want to, alright?"

The Valkyrie thought she saw his face flush a bit, and she couldn't help but feel a bit warmer herself. Ever the gentleman, Eric, she thought, I've always loved that part of you…

After he paid for their drinks, the Field Marshal stood up, with Shemei following suit. As they headed for the door, Shemei suddenly felt her instincts take over, and she looped her arm through Eric's as they left the Starshine. She looked over at him, and as their eyes met she gave him a small, almost shy smile, one that was rather uncharacteristic of her. It became a little bigger when he not only returned the smile but actually pulled her in a bit closer to him in response. A familiar warm feeling, one that only seemed to crop up when Eric was concerned, swept through Shemei, and it lifted her soul despite all the bad news that had been discussed during their time at the bar.

She kept her arm locked with Eric's as they left the establishment, and parted only when they reached their vehicles, which were parked right next to each other. Before she entered her jeep though, she took Eric into a hug. The warm feeling within her increased as he returned the embrace without hesitation, holding her close to him in the parking lot in the artificial night of the PLANT capital.

"Eric," she said softly, pulling back just far enough to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, "take care of yourself. Remember, if you need anything, even if it's just to talk and vent a little, call me, alright?"

He smiled at her, his brown eyes full of gratitude and affection. "I will, and thank you. You be careful too, and keep an eye on the girls; can't have them getting into trouble and making Zala's shit list now."

"Roger that," said Shemei, smiling and winking.

….

It was after midnight, but the Kaoshiung spaceport would not be sleeping anytime soon. The final preparations for Operation Spitbreak had reached a fever pitch, with incoming and outgoing flights of troops, supplies, and mobile suits literally every hour. The base was alive with activity, and a frantic energy seemed to posses most of the inhabitants.

For Dominic Zubov, though, what was coursing through his veins as he watched the work crews carry out his latest requests regarding Schwarz Squadron's new DINN Mk. IIs was not nervous anticipation, but seething bloodlust. He had a maniacal, monstrous grin on his face as he observed with pleasure the application of the new paint scheme he had demanded for his team. Arms folded, the Commander exuded a sense of sadistic satisfaction as he watched eight silver death's heads slowly but surely take shape on the chests of the DINNs. The machines kept the black base with grey trim that the team's old DINNS had worn, and the new emblem made their resemblance to the uniforms of the legendary SS of the Third Reich all the more uncanny… which was exactly what Zubov had hoped for.

It's fitting, after all, he mused, the SS were the vanguard of the original Holocaust. Now, here in the Cosmic Era, we shall commence their work anew… though this time, our target is not the Jews, but the Natural scum. Then again, I suppose the Jews would be included in that category… no matter. We will be the tip of the spear, the first flame of the inferno that will cleanse the Earth Sphere of the disgusting rabble, and the Coordinators will take their place as the sole race of Humanity.

His thoughts of a glorious genocide were interrupted by a familiar voice… one that he despised, despite the fact that it belonged to a fellow Special Operations Squadron Commander. "How unsightly," it said, with a clear Irish accent, "really, Zubov, I've always considered you a vulgar worm, but I didn't think you'd go this deep into the sewers."

Schwarze Team's Commander turned around to see the leader of the Grün Team standing behind him, arms folded, a scowl on his face. Bernhard 'Owl' Schmidt had made no attempts to hide his disdain at his fellow officer. A Second Generation Coordinator of mixed Irish and Austrian descent, Commander Schmidt was a wiry man, with a bald head and piercing green eyes. Twenty-seven years old, he had gained a reputation for his uncanny ability to adapt quickly to the flow of a battle, regardless of the terrain or forces involved. His knack for scanning the battlefield before diving into the fray had earned him the nickname 'Owl', and even in the midst of the most frantic engagements he always had a relaxed and flexible attitude, one that he had made sure to pass on to his three subordinates.

If Bernhard Schmidt had a weakness, it was one shared by the rest of the Special Operations Commanders; pride. The belief in the supremacy of Coordinators all but inherent within the ranks of the radical faction ran in the Owl's veins as well, giving him a disdainful view of his foes. However, where he and Zubov differed… and where their animosity came from… was how best to bring about the complete dominance of their kind of the Earth Sphere. Zubov was of course all for wiping the Naturals out, but Schmidt didn't have the stomach for all out genocide. While he looked down upon Naturals, his feelings on them were more of a general dislike rather than the burning hatred so many of his colleagues embraced.

It was because his prejudice was not as extreme that he envisioned a new world order in which the Naturals were second class citizens, performing low-level jobs, while the Coordinators would be the ruling elite, guiding the destiny of mankind. This divergence in viewpoints from the more bloodthirsty Schwarze Team Commander was the source of their rivalry and out-and-out loathing of each other; Zubov viewed Schmidt as too soft, while the Owl saw Zubov as little more than a barbarian swinging a cudgel around.

ZAFT's greatest war criminal cackled as he faced the Grün Team Commander. "You would say that, Schmidt. Someone as weak as you could never appreciate the power inherent in something like this; when the Natural scum see Schwarz Team's new emblem, their fear of us will be magnified even greater, and they will know that their end is nigh!"

"Their soldiers, or their civilians?" he asked sarcastically, "Oh, wait, I forgot; you don't see a difference between the two."

"Why should there be?" Zubov replied, grinning, "Just because one is under a coat of arms and the other is not means nothing; they will all die by our hands eventually. I'm just expediting the process."

"And killing off a valuable labor source in doing so," said Schmidt, "you give so little thought to the post-war order, Muscovite thug."

"Oh, I think of it, alright," he shot back, "It just involves a more permanent solution to the Natural problem than yours does, Irish pansy."

"Keep trying to implement your solution," said Schmidt, his eyes narrowing, "and it may be the end of you. I know how Field Marshall Bristow caught up to you after the Chinese finally chased you out of Xining; he was a hairs-breadth away from skipping the due-process and executing you on the spot. You're fortunate he has a sense of honor when it comes to fellow soldiers, even Huns like yourself, and tried to instigate a proper war crimes investigation before hauling you before a firing squad; Zala would not have been able to save you had the Wolf acted more… independently."

Even Zubov had to grimace at that, remembering the events prior to Bristow's 'promotion' to the Defense Council and Zala's general staff. His pride had taken a severe beating when the Wolf of the Far East had caught up to his team. He felt a fresh rage burning within him as he remembered how the Field Marshall had literally ambushed him as Schwarze Squadron had been making their way back to their forward operating base. The Commander recalled with perfect clarity how his cockpit alarms had suddenly started blaring with missile lock warnings before he realized that the ZAFT regular army had surrounded his team, fencing them in from both above and below. The ultimate humiliation had occurred soon after, when Bristow himself had effortlessly shot Zubov's rifle out of his DINNs hand before ordering his team to land, warning that the next shot would be fatal. As the Special Operations officer had touched down and exited his machine, Bristow's BuCue had rolled up before him. When the Field Marshal exited his mobile suit, he'd hauled off and punched Zubov in the face before drawing his sidearm, seething with rage. He'd barely managed to pull himself back from personally executing Zubov on the spot, and instead opted for punching the Schwarze Team Commander again before cuffing him and the rest of his squad, charging them with war crimes and vowing to personally lead the investigation against them.

For three days, Zubov and his subordinates had languished in a make-shift field cell, waiting to see what would become of them. The officer grinned as he recalled a special detachment approaching them on the third day, informing them that all charges had been dismissed. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Zala had killed the investigation, and less than twelve hours later Bristow had been transferred to Aprilius One, leaving Schwarze Team free to wreak havoc again.

The Wolf hadn't given up, of course, and Zala had made it perfectly clear to Zubov that Bristow was continuously making efforts to reopen a case against the Special Operations Squadron… and that he would let the Field Marshall have his way if Zubov didn't start obeying Zala's orders in a more… timely manner.

Zubov smiled again as he imagined Bristow's frustration at his failure to get him hauled before a tribunal and found guilty. Should've pulled the trigger yourself, Field Marshall, he thought, Civility has no place in war, and it definitely cost you here. Oh well… I'm certainly not complaining.

"Well, he didn't," said Zubov after a moment, "and the rest, as they say, is history."

"One that is pointless to rehash, at that," said a new voice, though it was not unfamiliar, "I would think that the two of you would have better things to do than bicker at a time like this."

Zubov rolled his eyes, knowing who was approaching. Great, he thought, I knew he was here, but I'd managed to avoid running into him until now. So much for that bit of luck lasting any longer.

He sneered as he turned to face the third Special Operations Commander assigned to Operation Spitbreak. "Well, if it isn't the poster boy of mobile suit pilots. I thought you were too good to slum it with the likes of us."

Detlef Fleisher, leader of Rot Team, scowled as he approached. Twenty-eight years old, he presented an image that had literally led him to be seen as the ideal pilot, or at least one that the ZAFT leadership liked to have on their recruitment ads. Always exuding an aura of confidence, Fleisher's short-brown hair, brown eyes, and lean yet athletic frame had quickly made him the heartthrob of many of ZAFT's female soldiers, along with quite a few civilians. His family was of mixed Germanic and Czech ancestry, and his parents, First Generation Coordinators, were both board members of Horizon Industries, one of the largest electronics companies in the PLANTs. Among its many activities, the firm was a key provider of computer components for the armed forces, and was a major financial backer of the radical faction. Both of his parents were solid Coordinator Supremacists, and Detlef had been quick to take up their ideals as well. His political leanings, combined with his piloting skills and the ease at which he moved amongst the PLANT social elite had made him a prime candidate for Zala's Special Operations units, and Fleisher was in fact one of the organization's best known pilots. Of course, the military's eagerness to trot him in front of the cameras as a recruiting tool played a helping hand in that fame, and ZAFT's propaganda machine had labeled him 'The Red Swallow'.

While the Rot Team Commander did not have the same antagonistic relationship with Zubov as Schmidt, the Schwarze Team Commander still did not hold Fleisher in high regard. It wasn't due to his ideals, but something much simpler; with his quick-wit and pride that came from being born into affluence, Zubov saw him as little more than a millionaire playboy looking for adventure, regardless of the seriousness in which he always approached his duties.

"I prefer to keep my distance from you, Zubov," said Fleisher, "only because you have all the social graces of a pig." He looked from Zubov to Schmidt. "Now, what's going on here?"

There he goes again, thought Zubov, he always acts like he's the big guy on campus… unless Kupchenko's around. "Not that it's any of your concern, pretty boy," he sneered, "but we were just… discussing my squadron's new emblem."

Fleisher glanced over at the tech crews working on Schwarze Team's new paintjob. "The death's head… not that I have an issue with that in and of itself, but in those colors… honestly, I would've thought that a Russian would despise the SS, not try to resurrect their ensemble. Didn't your ancestors fight at Stalingrad, Zubov?"

"Ancient history," he replied, "There's no point in me hating the Nazis so long after the Second World War….besides, I think we could learn a thing or two from them. After all, they too fought a war of extermination; anyone with a basic understanding of history can draw the parallels."

"Animal," muttered Schmidt, "don't equate the rest of us with the scum of humanity. This war is like any other; the victor will reign supreme, and the loser will become the subservient. Only barbarians like you would entertain the notion that genocide is our ultimate objective."

"Open your eyes, Owl," sneered Zubov, "Remember, the Naturals started this war with a nuclear attack; they made their intentions clear right from the beginning. There's only one way this war can end, and that's total annihilation of one side or the other. Look, I can appreciate your views on turning them into our servants at the end, but it's just too soft. Then again, soft is really what you're all about, aren't you, Schmidt?"

"You want soft?" growled Schmidt, "Let's get our teams together and take to the sky. I'd match Grün Team's four against Schwarze's eight any day of the week. What do you say, Vulture?"

"Enough, both of you!" snapped Fleisher, "The ultimate aims of this war are for Supreme Chairman Zala to decided, not us. Save your energy for the Naturals; Special Operations will be spearheading Spitbreak, and we can't waste time arguing amongst ourselves."

"If that's so," said Zubov, "then how come we're the only three Special Squadrons here? If we're leading the assault, then shouldn't there be more of us?"

"Idiot," said Schmidt, "the rest of the Special Operations units have their own responsibilities. Not to mention we're suddenly a bit shorthanded after the Marshall Islands."

"What are you talking about?" said Zubov, this time with genuine interest.

"Typical," said Schmidt, a smug smirk on his face, "It's just like you to ignore the latest intelligence briefs. Ofnir and Grabacr were wiped out three days ago… by Wing Zero and the legged ship."

Schwarze Team's Commander's eyes widened at that statement. "You've gotta be kidding me…"

"It's the truth," said Fleisher, "two of the Zala Team pilots that took part in the battle as well survived, and their accounts along with debris discovered at the scene confirm it. Also, pilot Nicole Amalfi is confirmed K.I.A., while both Dearka Elsman and his unit, the Buster, are missing. The Zala Team did manage to destroy one fighter jet and the Strike though, so the engagement wasn't a total loss."

"Damn near close to it if you ask me," grumbled Schmidt, "Wing Zero and the legged ship are tearing a swath through our military. Our casualties have skyrocketed since the debacle at Heliopolis."

"So have the Alliance's," said Zubov, "Remember, it was thanks to the four machines we did steal during that 'debacle' that the 8th Fleet was annihilated."

"True," said Fleisher, nodding, "however, if you put that against the losses to our MS corps, our armies in North Africa, the Flying Fortress Everest, three of the four stolen prototypes, and Ofnir and Grabacr… it's hard to say if we break even or come out behind at this point. Wing Zero in particular seems to be worth an entire fleet by itself."

"We have to take it down," said Schmidt, his eyes narrowing, "that machine has the potential to change the course of the entire war. I know the Defense Council made its destruction a Priority One goal, but it continues to crush all who are sent against it. Can Spitbreak even succeed with that demon on the loose?"

"Of course it can," said Fleisher, "after all, the firepower we're assembling for the operation is overwhelming, even for a mobile suit and pilot of that caliber. I mean, come on; two Flying Fortresses, four combined fleets for the opening assault, with two more in reserve? By the time we receive initiation orders, we'll have amassed the largest force in the history of the world. We cannot lose."

"Still," mused Zubov, entering a rare contemplative state, "we should go for broke. Can't we rotate a couple more of our own units into the armada?"

"Not possible," replied Fleisher, "Special Operations is spread too thin now."

"Oh, come on," said Zubov, "the other squadrons can't be that busy."

"Unfortunately, they are," said Schmidt, "Silber was transferred to Tobruk to help hold North Africa against a Eurasian assault in light of our recent losses there, along with the rotation of the Valkyrie Team back to the homeland. The Schnee Squadron is stationed aboard the destroyer Mandela, which is currently conducting harassing raids out at L1 against the Alliance 2nd Fleet. Indigo and Gelb are our representatives in the Exclusion Grid; the former on the Avalon Line, the latter at Jachin Due."

"What about Gault?" sneered Zubov, "Surely old man Kupchenko wouldn't miss out on the biggest offensive of the war."

"Special Operations Chief Commander Anton Kupchenko," said Fleisher, irked at Zubov's blatant lack of respect for the operational head of their organization, "is on top secret assignment. I don't know any details save for the fact that the orders were issued by the Supreme Chairman himself, and that all of Gault Team is involved."

"Really?" said Zubov, raising an eyebrow, "Must be important if he needs Kupchenko's squadron. I wonder what kind of fun they're getting up to."

"I don't think fun would be the right word to describe it," said Schmidt, looking thoughtful, "If they needed Gault's Golden Nest…" The 'Golden Nest' was the nickname given to the way the deadliest of the Special Operations Teams fought; Chief Commander Anton Kupchenko's personal squadron was renowned throughout ZAFT for it intricate flying techniques, how each of the eight mobile suits in the unit complemented and supported each other with such precision that it almost seemed as if they were a hive mind. It was said that if any squad could challenge the Valkyrie Team, it would be Gault… though who would win was a matter of debate. Even if they outnumbered their rivals two to one, the individual skills of the Gault pilots still did not match those of the Valkyrie and her subordinates.

"It hardly matters for us," said Fleisher, smiling, "Operation Spitbreak will begin soon enough, and we will bring the Earth Forces to their knees. Since we are the only three Special Operations Squadrons participating, we will be crowned in glory."

"While the others languish in the background," said Schmidt, smirking, "I can already picture the awards ceremony afterwards… who wants to bet we'll each make Field Marshall? At the very least, they'll have to expand our commands, not to mention throw a nice, fat bonus into our pay."

"Either's fine by me," said Zubov, grinning, "As long as I get to put those vermin to the sword, nothing else matters."

….

"Welcome back, Reverend Malchio," said Lacus.

It was the morning after Kira had regained consciousness, and Lacus had decided that he was well enough for a little company. She smiled as she held the front door open for the monk. "Kira's out back," she said as she closed the door behind him and took him by the arm, guiding him through the house, "I was hoping that you could join the two of us for tea."

"Of course," said the blind man, a small smile on his face, "although… I sense that tea is not the only reason you wish for me to be with the two of you today."

Lacus sighed. I can't help but be amazed at his perception, especially without his sight, she thought, he reads so much into verbal cues… much more than I know I'm aware of.

"Yes," said Lacus, "as I'm sure you're aware, in the battle that Kira was wounded in… Athrun went M.I.A. as well."

"I remember hearing of this from Field Marshal Bristow," Malchio replied, "If I recall correctly, he was recovered by Orb shortly afterwards and transferred back to ZAFT at sea. From there he was taken to Carpentaria, where I believe he still resides for the moment."

"That is all true," said Lacus, stopping in her tracks as the two of them approached the back door. Wanting to make sure the monk was prepared before the two of them began their talk with Kira, she made sure he had stopped as well before speaking again. "I believe… that Kira and Athrun fought each other in that battle... and the tension between them somehow became more… heated."

"Ah," said Malchio, nodding in understanding, "You fear that something happened that made the two of them stop holding back against each other… something that may have turned the friendship they once had into hatred."

"Exactly," said Lacus, looking down at the floor, "I know that one of Athrun's friends and comrades, Nicole Amalfi… was killed during the battle. It is possible that Kira is the one who killed him. Also, according to Mr. Bristow, there was wreckage of an Alliance fighter jet on the scene as well… I believe that Kira may have lost a friend at Athrun's hands as well."

The monk nodded glumly. "I see… I do not know the precise details, but I believe that your observations are quite astute, and what you have described is the most likely scenario. So, you have asked for my company in order to convince Kira to let go of any hatred he may have developed for Athrun."

"Yes," she replied, relieved that Malchio understood her intentions, "Kira… he's such a kind, gentle person. He is one of the most sincere and caring people I have ever met… I do not wish for his heart to be distorted by hatred and revenge."

The Reverend gave her a small, knowing smile. "You care for him dearly, don't you Miss Lacus?"

She felt a bit of heat rush to her cheeks at his words, and she was unable to deny the truth within them. I do care for Kira, she thought, but… in what way?

Ever since her departure from the Archangel, not a day had gone by that she had not thought of the sincere young man who had saved her life. Whether it was just to wonder how he was doing, or to pray for his safety at night before she went to bed, her mind and heart had gone out to Kira in one form or another. It was certainly understandable, considering both the circumstances under which they had met and the young Coordinator's nature in general… but Lacus was unsure if those feelings were merely a friendly affection, or if they had a touch of something… deeper.

Lacus recalled with perfect clarity the shock and horror she had felt on first witnessing Kira lying on the bed over her video call with Malchio, wrapped in bandages and barely clinging to life. Her desperation, her determination, to save him was even more powerful, and she'd soon realized that no other person had elicited such a passionate response from her… including her fiancé, Athrun Zala.

While it was true that she cared for the young man that she had been arranged to marry, Lacus was not sure her feelings behind the whole affair were of a romantic nature. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that what she held for Athrun was a compassion and fondness that one would have for a dear friend… but no more than that. When compared for surge of passion that Kira had elicited from her, her determination to stay by his side to help him recover… she was forced to face the truth; the arranged marriage with Athrun was not a love match. No matter how much she cared for him, Lacus knew deep down that her feelings would never become romantic towards him… and the same probably went for him as well. Athrun had always been kind and thoughtful towards her, but there was also a stiffness and awkwardness that had come between them since their arranged marriage had been announced. Lacus was sure that, while Athrun did care for her, his affection was not of the romantic nature, but a combination of the friendship they'd had before and his sense of duty to his people, something they both shared. Both of them knew that the ceremony would raise the morale of the people… but carrying out their responsibilities as the children of the PLANT elite would come at the price of not following their hearts, and Lacus was becoming increasingly worried that it was a toll that neither of them would be able to pay.

As she pondered all this, she looked out the sliding glass door at Kira. The brown haired, violet eyed young man was, of course, still in his bed, which had been rolled out back in the late morning so he could enjoy some fresh air. A seat was already pulled up next to it, where Lacus had been sitting earlier talking to him until Mr. Reese had announced Reverend Malchio's arrival. At that point she had excused herself to personally greet the monk, and… well, here she was.

She felt her heart flutter as she gazed at the boy. Lacus could not deny that she was drawn to Kira in a way that she never had been to Athrun. His thoughtfulness towards others, his courage and desire to protect the people close to him, his quiet and intelligent if somewhat naïve nature… she had become quite fond of all of them. It was true that Athrun shared several of the same qualities, but the shadow of his father's influence hung over them, driving the boy to try and impress the man that Lacus's allies feared would soon unleash a bloodbath upon the Earth Sphere. The younger Zala also had a perpetually serious nature that contrasted with Kira's generally relaxed and easy-going personality. Athrun, for all his own kindness and respect towards others, had a hard time both relaxing and opening up to people, whereas Kira did not show any such difficulties.

Still, thought Lacus, it's too early to say whether or not I…like Kira, as some might put it. Anyway, that hardly matters right now. What's important is to see to his recovery… both physically and emotionally.

Shoving her personal doubts aside for the moment, she put on a smile and opened the door for Reverend Malchio. As she did so, she looked over at Kira. "Kira!" she said, closing the door as she came out behind the monk, "I trust you remember Reverend Malchio?"

Kira nodded and smiled as Lacus led the monk over to the bedside and pulled up another chair for him. "Yeah," he said, "you said he was the one that found me on that island… after the battle." His smile faltered at that last bit.

Her heart went out to the young man. Kira… I'm sorry, I truly am, but I'm afraid we must revisit your memories of that terrible fight. I must keep you from succumbing to hatred and vengeance…and I will do whatever it takes to accomplish that.

Malchio spoke up before she could. "It was fortunate that I did, or you would in all likelihood be dead by now."

"Thank you," said Kira, bowing his head.

Working up her nerve, Lacus cleared her throat before speaking. "Kira… I'm sorry to have to ask this… but could you tell us about what happened during the battle?"

His eyes widened a bit in response to her question. Then a shadow fell over his face, and for a moment Lacus feared that she may have overstepped her bounds. However, after a second Kira nodded and looked at her again, though there was some trepidation in his eyes. "Alright, Lacus."

He started slowly, telling them how they had been attacked by both Athrun's Team and two squads of DINN's similar to those used by the Valkyrie Team in the Marshall Islands. Lacus had already heard from Bristow that the latter were two of Zala's Special Operations Squadrons, Ofnir and Grabacr… and that they'd been annihilated by Wing Zero and the Archangel. Indeed, Kira did mention that mysterious and incredibly powerful mobile suit in his tale, though naturally it was a secondary part of his account as he was more focused on his own actions during the battle. Still, Lacus took some comfort in the knowledge that the other pilot that had saved her life, Heero Yuy, was still alive and well. He was such an interesting young man, she thought, and from another world to boot… I would like to speak with him again sometime.

She turned her attention back to Kira as he continued his story. Lacus saw him hesitate a little before telling her about how he had reflexively fired a shot at Athrun's cockpit, which would've connected if the Blitz hadn't moved in to take the hit instead. She knew that Nicole Amalfi was the pilot of the black machine, and undoubtedly his death had been a sever shock to Athrun. Indeed, Kira told her about Athrun's scream of rage over the radio before he had charged him, no longer holding anything back.

The boy's face became darker as he went on, describing how Athrun had proceeded to kill one of Kira's friends, Tolle, by destroying the fighter jet he had been flying in the battle. At this point he stopped, and Lacus's heart went out to him as she saw him trying desperately to hold back tears.

"Kira," she said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry… you can stop for now, if you want to."

He shook his head and looked up at her. "Thanks, but I want to finish. It's the least I can do after all the help you've given me."

Lacus nodded, and Kira concluded his tale by describing his final fight with Athrun… and he didn't hold back, either. The young man was very detailed not just in the physical damage the two of them inflicted on each other's machines, but on the pain and rage in his heart, the sorrow at the death of his friend, and the burning desire for vengeance.

As he finished he looked down at the table, and Lacus saw that he appeared to be very nervous, almost unwilling to meet her gaze. She had a feeling she knew why; the young man he'd tried so hard to kill had not only once been his best friend, but was her fiancé now as well. It was natural for him to be worried about her reaction considering what he'd just told her.

"Kira," she said, "please, look at me."

As he did so, she moved her hand from his shoulder to his right hand. "I need to know… do you hate Athrun? Was what happened during the battle pure impulse, or do you now truly hate him from the bottom of your heart?"

His eyes widened, and Lacus saw tears begin to form in them. "I…" he said, struggling to speak, "I… I don't know! He was my friend, I never wanted to fight him… but Tolle was my friend to, and Athrun killed him… I don't know what I feel!"

"In that lies your answer," said Reverend Malchio, causing both Kira and Lacus to look at him.

"What do you mean?" asked Kira, the tears that had threatened to fall earlier subsiding.

"Simple," replied the monk, "if hatred was now your motivation, you would know it without hesitation. Believe me, young man; long ago, I too was a soldier. I was once a member of the United Nations' Peacekeeping forces, and I served in one of the organization's many missions in the sands of the Middle East, trying time and time again to bring about some form of lasting peace in that tumultuous region."

"Reverend Malchio…" said Lacus softly, her eyes widening. She'd never heard the blind man discuss his own past; in fact, she'd never done any research of her own into it. Lacus had always known him as a man of faith and peace; she'd never dreamed that he had once served in combat.

"In my time as a soldier," Malchio continued, "I traveled to many places where ethnic and religious divisions had torn the people apart, pitting them at each other's throats for as long as their nations had existed. Damascus, Jerusalem, Cairo, Baghdad… the list was quite a long one. I met many different combatants in that time, both friendly and enemy, and I tried my best to learn what their reasons for fighting were. That list was as long and varied as the places I traveled in my time with the Peacekeeping forces."

"What did you learn?" asked Kira.

"That those who fight out of hatred or vengeance," he replied, "cannot deny it, and know it in their hearts to be true. The same could be said of those who fight for more noble reasons; to protect their friends, loved ones, even people they've never met. However, beyond their simple differences, there is another key distinction between those who fight for hate and those who fight to protect."

"What is it?" said Lacus.

"The former," said Malchio, "are seldom conflicted about fighting; their hearts are hardened, and they do not consider their enemies to be truly human. The later, though, despite however strong their will to fight to protect others is, still see their enemies as people. They may not hesitate to pull the trigger, to take the lives of their foes… but they still recognize them as living, breathing human beings, with thoughts and feelings of their own, as well as people who care for them and love them."

"Kira Yamato," he continued, "though I was blinded during the course of my duties with the United Nations, even now I can 'see', if you will, into the hearts and minds of others; what motivates them to do what they do in their lives. Miss Lacus has already told me that you fought to protect your friends, and in being with you, here and now, listening to your account, I can judge for myself that her words are true. I also heard the sadness in your voice as you described your fight with Athrun, even after he killed your friend Tolle. Though I do not doubt that wrath was in your heart when you two fought, I also can say without a doubt that sorrow was there as well. Even after your friend's death, you did not truly wish to kill Athrun… and I believe, deep in your heart, that you know this to be true."

Kira looked down. "I don't know… when I think back on that fight… I can feel the rage burning inside me, like a fire."

"I'm sure you can," said Malchio, "along with the sorrow, tearing at your heart like a great wound, more severe than any physical one you suffered in that fight. I would also imagine… that you were crying as you dueled Athrun; tears not just for your fallen friend, but also at the fact that you were fighting another."

Looking over at Kira, Lacus saw his eyes widened, and knew without a doubt that he had suddenly remembered exactly what the blind monk had described. At the same time, she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her heart; now, after all that had been said, she knew that Kira's kind and caring heart remained intact, untainted by the desire for revenge. The boy had not out-and-out said so himself, but Lacus could see in his eyes the same compassion that had led her to become so fond of him after they'd first met, and knew that it was uncorrupted.

She closed her eyes and smiled. Reverend Malchio… thank you.

Opening her eyes, she saw that Kira was smiling slightly as well, and looked very relieved at his realization. Curiosity was in his eyes as well, and as he turned to Malchio he asked the same question that Lacus had begun pondering.

"Revered Malchio," said Kira, "whey you lost your sight, was that when you decided to leave the U.N. and become more… religious?"

The monk smiled. "Well, I had always been a spiritual person, but losing my sight was, forgive the oxymoron, an eye opening experience. I could no longer personally fight to help others, so I left the U.N. Peacekeeping forces, but I was still determined to try to heal the wounds of this war. I formally joined the church soon after, and I rose through the ranks rather quickly. They sent me on many mission trips across the world, and it was in that time that I gained prominence as someone who was willing to undergo great risks to help those in need."

He turned to Lacus. "It was during that time that I met Miss Lacus's father; though he was well involved in affairs concerning the PLANTs, Mr. Clyne was and remains a very charitable person, and cared for the less fortunate of the world, whether they be Natural or Coordinator. He began providing financial support to my efforts. It was soon after that I met Miss Lacus, and the rest, as they say, is history."

Lacus smiled at the monk and turned to Kira. "My career as a singer means that I have a great deal of money and popular support to give to Reverend Malchio. I've been helping him for a couple of years now."

Kira actually blushed slightly at that. "Wow… I had no idea that you were so famous in the PLANTs. When we met… I just thought you were the daughter of the leader. I mean, I heard you sing, and your voice is beautiful, but I still…"

Lacus laughed a little at that. "It's quite alright, Kira. After all, you didn't grow up in the PLANTs, and I'd imagine that Heliopolis and Orb in general had celebrities of their own for people to take an interest then. Thank you very much, though; I'm glad you liked my singing."

The boy's face became even redder, though he still managed a smile as he looked at her. "Well, it's kinda hard not to."

This time, Lacus was surprised to feel herself blushing, and hoped it wasn't too noticeable. People complimented her on her singing all the time, of course… but now that Kira was the one giving her praise, she was flattered in a way that the others had not made her feel. This boy… why does he make me feel the way I do when I'm around him?

….

Two days after they had arrived at Pearl Harbor, Murrue took her seat on the Archangel's bridge as her crew ran through the preflight checks. She had been impressed at how much the base's repair crews had been able to accomplish in the 48 hours the ship had been docked there; the damaged engine had been completely repaired, along with the portside Valiant Linear Rail Cannon. Enough progress had been made on the damaged Igelstellungs that Murdoch's teams could finish the rest of the repairs en route to Alaska, and the Hawaii crews had even removed the melted thrusters from the Buster and sent over replacement parts for the ship's technicians to install on the sole remaining prototype suit from the Heliopolis project in their possession. It just goes to show how much the Orb crews deliberately slacked off, mused Murrue, in order to give their government more time to use Kira and Heero for their own mobile suit program.

She looked to her right before remembering that Heero was not on the bridge; the young man was down in the hangar running checks of his own on Wing Zero before their departure. Murrue turned back to the front of the bridge, sighing as she did so. I get so used to having him here, by my side... I know he'll come up here as soon as he's done with his Gundam, but I still wish he was on the bridge right now.

Her second in command brought her attention back to the bridge. "Captain," said Natarle, "all systems check out, save for the two Igelstellungs that have yet to be completely repaired. We're ready to move out at your command."

Murrue nodded. "Contact harbor control and have them clear us a lane. Fire up the engines and take us out. Take care when moving for the mouth of the harbor; there's quite a bit of traffic out there today."

That was certainly true. Over the past 48 hours, warships had streamed into the Pacific Fleet's HQ practically every hour, and the amount of incoming vessels had seemingly doubled on the day of the Archangel's departure. Destroyers, frigates, cruisers, even aircraft carriers… Pearl Harbor was alive with activity. Something big must be brewing, thought Murrue, for the top brass to begin concentrating so many ships here. I wonder what's going on. She'd tried to get information from the base commandant, but the only response she had received was that the information was need to know, and it did not concern her ship.

"Yes, ma'am," said Natarle, quickly relaying her orders to the rest of the bridge crew.

Turning her attention to her personal monitor, she contacted the hangar. "Crew Chief Murdoch."

"What is it, Captain?" asked the gruff mechanic.

"We're moving out," said Murrue, "I want your teams to prioritize finishing the repairs of the last two Igelstellungs; the Buster's thrusters can wait until they're done."

"Yes, ma'am," said Murdoch, "just keep the ship steady for us; can't have my guys falling into the sea."

Murrue smiled. "Don't worry; we'll take things slow until the tech crews are done. Carry on, Crew Chief."

"Got it," he replied, "By the way, Heero just finished up with Wing Zero; he's on his way up to the bridge now."

"Thanks for the heads up," said Murrue before cutting the connection.

Indeed, less than a minute after her conversation with the warship's head mechanic, she heard the bridge door open. Murrue looked over her should and smiled as Heero entered and walked over to her. He nodded to her in greeting, smiling slightly before looking out the forward viewport. "How are we?"

"Everything checks out," said Murrue, "we can make the last of our repairs during the remainder of the trip to Alaska; Alliance air patrols have the whole region between here and HQ covered, so we won't have to worry about enemy attacks."

"Good to know," said Heero. The two of them were quiet for a moment, watching out the forward viewport as the ship slowly began to make its way out of the harbor. Then the Gundam pilot turned to her again and spoke. "How's your report coming along? Are you almost done?"

Murrue nodded. "Yes, I just have to make the final log notes for the last leg of our trip to Alaska. I can finish those upon our arrival, and then present the whole thing to the top brass. I even managed to finish writing up all the commendations for the crew." She smiled at her last comment. "It's too bad you're not an official member of the Alliance military; with your actions during our voyage, you're eligible for just about every citation we have to offer."

She saw Heero smirk at that. "Sorry, but I'm not one for formal service; my fighting style's a little too independent for official military operations."

"I know," said Murrue, "and honestly, after all you've been through… I think I'm glad that you're not an official member of the Alliance military. I'm just grateful for all the help you've given us as an independent fighter."

"A capacity in which I'll continue to act in," said Heero, giving her a small smile, "I trust that works for you?"

Murrue grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

….

"How ya feeling, kid?" said Waltfeld as Lacus led him and Aisha outside, where Kira lay in his usual spot on the back patio. It had been two days since Reverend Malchio's visit, and the Desert Tiger and his lover had finally been able to break away from their activities with the moderate faction to come visit their former enemy from North Africa. They'd had to take precautions, of course; they'd driven over in a plain black four door sedan, and rather than park out front they had been led to the Clyne residence's garage, where they could exit their car out of eyesight of any potential observers. Waltfeld did not want it to become public knowledge that he and Aisha were still alive, and thus was quite cautious whenever he and his lover ventured outside the safe house Bristow had set up for them.

The Desert Tiger was dressed much as he had been when he'd first met Kira in Banadiya; khaki pants, a red and yellow shirt, sunglasses, and a hat. Aisha's attire was quite plain as well, consisting of little more than blue jeans, a green blouse, sunglasses, and a white wide brimmed hat.

Waltfeld couldn't help but smile as he saw Kira's eyes widen in surprise. He's as sincere as ever, he mused, concealing his emotions just isn't his forte. In his case though, I think it's a good thing; it's one of the things that help him keep his humanity while he fights.

As he and Aisha went over to Kira, Lacus took their hats and sunglasses and set them down on a nearby table; the patio was surrounded by tall bushes save for the spot overlooking the lake, meaning that they were concealed from any observers unless they were willing to climb the few trees in the area… and given the relatively light foliage, said trees were not well suited to concealing spies.

"Mister Waltfeld!" said Kira, smiling as he and Aisha approached and sat down beside him, "Miss Aisha! I didn't know you two would be coming by today."

Aisha gave him a warm smile. "We managed to get a little free time today, so we decided to pay you a visit. We called Lacus, but she said she wanted to surprise you, so that's why you weren't given a heads up."

"Oh?" said Kira, looking over at Lacus. Waltfeld was surprised to see the songstress blush slightly as the boy did so. I wonder, he thought, I know she's arranged to marry Zala's son… but her true affections may lie with someone else. He smirked slightly at that. Young love is a strange thing… well, however she feels, Lacus is mature enough to make her own decisions, and if she ends up falling for Kira, so be it. Siegel and Patrick will have to deal with the consequences; those two should never have tried to arrange a marriage between Lacus and Athrun. I don't care how good the ceremony would be for PLANT morale, everyone has the right to chose who they love, regardless if they're normal people or the children of the ruling elite.

He looked over at Aisha, who winked at him in acknowledgement. So you've caught it too, eh my love? I should've figured; you've always been very observant when it comes to the more emotional side of people. One of the reasons I fell for you…

The black haired beauty turned back to the bedridden boy, concern in her green eyes. "How are you, Kira? Lacus told us about the extent of your wounds… both Andy and I were worried."

"Oh, uhm, I'm ok," said Kira, clearly more focused on what was left of Waltfeld's left arm, along with the scar that went through his left eye, which would remain closed for the rest of his life.

The Desert Tiger chuckled. "Don't worry about me, kid. I'll get fitted for a prosthetic once quiet down around here. As for the eye, well I've still got my right one, so no worries there. Besides, I've got Aisha to help me out." He turned to his lover and they shared a brief kiss.

"Alright," said Kira, though the boy still looked uncomfortable. It was easy enough to guess why; seeing Waltfeld and Aisha like this no doubt reminded the boy of their fierce battle in North Africa, and that he had nearly killed them. Hell, the kid thought he had killed them, and it had been a very close thing.

Waltfeld smiled. "Look, Kira, Aisha and I don't have any hard feelings over what happened in Egypt, alright? I know it probably seems strange to you, but we really don't hold the fact that you nearly killed us against you. It was a battle, and we were on opposite sides, fighting for different reasons. That's all there is to it."

"And now that you're here and not with the Earth Forces," said Aisha, "you don't have to worry about fighting us. You'll probably find this odd, but Andy and I both became quite fond of you after our meeting in Banadiya, and we'd much rather be friends with you than enemies."

Kira nodded. "So would I… but my friends are with the Earth Forces. I can't just abandon them."

"Then what do you intend to do?" said Lacus, chiming in for the first time since they had all sat down, "Your wounds are still healing, and there's no way for you to get out of the PLANTs right now. Besides… your machine was destroyed in the Marshall Islands, remember? The very reason the Alliance let you fight for them is now scattered wreckage in the Pacific Ocean."

"I know you're worried about your friends," said Aisha, "After all that was the reason you fought so well against us back in North Africa. However, you're forgetting something important."

"Huh?" said Kira, eyes widening slightly, "What are you talking about, Miss Aisha?"

The raven haired woman laughed, and Waltfeld smiled as he saw a playful gleam in her emerald eyes. "I'm talking about your fellow mobile suit pilot, of course! Surely you weren't knocked on the head so badly that you forgot about Heero Yuy, did you?"

"She's right, Kira," said Waltfeld, "With him and Wing Zero aboard the Archangel, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

The boy seemed reassured at their words. "You're both right… I guess I did forget about him."

"I don't suppose you can tell us more about the guy, can you?" asked Waltfeld, "I gotta admit, ever since our meeting in North Africa, I've been curious about him. I mean, a pilot of that caliber, and from another world to boot… it's something you don't see every day."

"I agree," said Aisha, "from what we saw in Banadiya, he's certainly an intriguing figure."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you two that much about him," said Kira, "I mean, we've talked before, but it's always been about stuff going on here, in the Cosmic Era… I think Captain Ramius is the only person he's close to. She's the one you'd have to ask, if you ever meet her?"

"She?" said Aisha. Waltfeld noted the emphasis she put on that word, and knew that her mind had gone in the same direction as his.

That necklace he bought in Banadiya… the Tear of Isis… I'd bet anything it was for her.

"Yeah," said Kira, apparently not noticing Aisha's reaction, "the ship's commanding officer is a woman. I actually met her back on Heliopolis… in fact, she actually pushed me into the Strike's cockpit before getting in herself. I know she did it to get me out of danger… but we wound up in even more danger right after that, and I wound up taking control of the machine. That's how I ended up where I am, I guess."

"You said she pushed you in to protect you," said Waltfeld, "I can understand that if you just happened to be a civilian caught in the crossfire… but what about afterwards? Why did you keep piloting the Strike?"

"I told you before," said Kira, "it was to protect my friends. At the time, since we'd been exposed to military secrets and brought aboard the Archangel, I didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. Still, I wouldn't say Captain Ramius forced me to pilot the Strike. I did it of my own free will."

Kira then smiled slightly. "The Captain was actually kind to me, which was surprising considering that I'm a Coordinator. I don't think that sort of thing matters to her; from what little I've seen and heard, Captain Ramius just wants to keep her crew safe. Of course, Heero's really the one you'd have to ask about that. I know he and her talk all the time, so he knows her a lot better than me."

Waltfeld and Aisha shared a knowing look. No doubt now; she's the one Heero bought the necklace for… the one he wants to protect. I wonder though… is the bond they share just a close friendship, or does it run deeper? In the end, it wasn't any of his business, so he decided not to pursue the matter. It certainly was interesting to think about, though.

They both turned back to Kira, and Aisha spoke. "She sounds like a compassionate and strong woman," she said with a smile, "I bet we'd be good friends."

"I think all of us would," said Waltfeld, "You, me, Shemei and the girls, Lacus, Heero, Captain Ramius and her crew…" He sighed. "Damn this war."

"Speaking of which," said Kira, looking at Waltfeld, "Why are you back here instead of down on the surface, Mister Waltfeld? I mean, I know your injuries were severe, but I would expect someone like you to be recuperating at a place close to where you could keep an eye on your forces."

Waltfeld smirked. "You're a bright kid. I keep forgetting that, considering how sincere you tend to be."

He then became more serious. "As for what Aisha and I are doing back in the PLANTs… I guess you could say we're trying to figure out how to end the war… without escalating it further."

"You've been told that Patrick Zala has become the new Supreme Chairman of the PLANTs, right Kira?" asked Aisha.

The boy nodded, prompting her to continue. "Well, Zala and Lacus's father, the former Chairman, have different views on how the end of the war should be achieved. Siegel Clyne wanted to secure the Coordinator homeland and put us in a position of parity with the Alliance before negotiating peace. Patrick Zala, however, favors forcing the Earth Forces into submission, even if it means escalating the conflict beyond what it is now… and it's bad enough as is, as you've seen for yourself."

"We've been establishing contact with a lot of Clyne's supporters," said Waltfeld. He nodded at the songstress by Kira's side. "Lacus has been helping us as well."

Kira looked over at the pink haired girl, eyes widening at Waltfeld's statement. "Lacus… I didn't think…"

"That I would become involved in this kind of politics?" she finished for him. She smiled at the boy. "Kira, I'm the daughter of the former Supreme Chairman; I'm involved whether I like it or not. Besides, with my popularity as a singer, I have influence and power of my own, and I want to put it to good use. I can't think of a better one than helping Mister Waltfeld and his allies find a way to end the war without escalating the bloodshed."

The boy almost seemed to be in awe of the songstress as she spoke of her convictions and desire to help, and Waltfeld realized that perhaps Lacus wasn't the only one with potential romantic inclinations. I may be reading too much into this… but there might be some chemistry between these two. It'd be interesting to see what happens, that's for sure. Oh well, that sort of thing takes time to develop… then again, Kira will be laid up here for quite a few more days at least, and with Lacus as his caretaker… Florence Nightingale may well be the way this situation plays out.

Watching the two of them together, Waltfeld was struck by an odd feeling. It's strange… but when I see the two of them together, I feel like I can see part of the key… the key to ending this war. But it's incomplete; vital pieces are still missing. Some of them may lie with the organization Bristow, Clyne, and I are building; it's too early to say at this point. He then smiled softly as his mind went back to that meeting in North Africa… more specifically, to the legged ship's other mobile suit pilot... the young man that had taken the entire Earth Sphere by surprise, and whose name had recently begun floating around the armed forces, whispered in a combination of awe and terror, admiration and dread…

That young man, thought Waltfeld, and his incredible machine… I don't know why, but my gut is telling me that in the end, everything will come down to him.

The boy who, since arriving on the scene nearly two months ago, had become a serious candidate for the title of 'Greatest Pilot of All Time'…

Heero Yuy.

….

"Long range contacts on radar," said the sensor operator, "I have ten… no, twelve signatures, IFF beacons show Alliance fighters!"

Murrue sighed in relief. They had departed Hawaii three days ago, and while they'd had no contact with ZAFT forces, neither had they encountered any friendly patrols. Now, as the Archangel cruised through the Pacific, the late afternoon sun high slowly creeping west across the sky, she could finally relax a little as the allied fighters moved in.

At least, she would've liked to relax… but what she heard next caused her no small amount of concern.

"Hold on a second," said Sai from his station in the CIC, "They're not Spearheads, they're Su-63Ks."

"Sukhoi birds…" Murrue heard Heero say. Turning to the Gundam pilot standing next to her seat, she saw his eyes narrow. "Those are Eurasian Federation fighters, and the 'K' designation means they're carrier planes."

Murrue nodded, only wondering briefly how he knew what kind of fighters the Eurasian Federation used until she remembered all the Alliance files he's read during his time aboard the Archangel. "You're right… and considering our last contact with the Eurasians was that mess at their Artemis base, I'm not entirely sure we can consider these planes friendly just yet."

"I'll head down to Wing Zero," said Heero, "Call if you need me to launch."

"Ok," said Murrue. As Heero left, she turned to Natarle. "Lieutenant Badgiruel, have Lieutenant Commander La Flaga head to his fighter as well. Prepare the catapult for launch and have Skygrasper One on standby in case we're attacked."

"Aye, Captain!" said Natarle.

"All hands," said Murrue, "Level Two battle stations! We'll go to level one if the Sukhoi jets become hostile. Sensors, bring the fighters up on the monitor, best possible magnification."

The twelve Eurasian fighters appeared on the central screen, their blue and white airframes much sleeker than that used by the mainstay Atlantic Federation jet, the F-7D. The Su-63K, along with its ground based counterpart the Su-63E, embodied the Eurasian air combat philosophy. The central airframe was based off the venerable Su-35; with the slightly raised cockpit section blending smoothly back into the central fuselage, swept back wings, and two tailfins as opposed to the Spearhead's one. While the Atlantic Federation fighter put emphasis on weapons capacity, heavier armor, and high top speed, the Su-63 and its variants were designed to focus on maneuverability. With their twin-thrust vectoring nozzles on their engines, they could out-turn any other plane in the sky, and they had a much lower stall speed than the heavier Spearhead. It was armed with a single 30mm machine gun and had fourteen hard-points slung beneath it, capable of carrying a variety of missiles. This contrasted to the internal missile bays of the F-7D, which could carry nearly twice that number of missiles, and the Atlantic Federation fighter also had two machine guns, though these were 20mm as opposed to the single 30mm on the Sukhoi bird.

It was a hotly debated topic between pilots of the two superpowers as to which fighter was superior… but when compared to the aerial dominance displayed by ZAFT's DINN, it was also a moot argument. Still, in capable hands, either plane could at least give enemy mobile suits a decent tussle, though the possibility of victory generally only existed if the fighter jets outnumbered the DINNs by at least four-to-one.

As she watched the Russian made planes approach, Murrue was nervous about what their intentions might be… but not nearly as much as she would've been months ago. Despite the tense mood on the bridge, the beautiful Captain could not help but smile slightly. With Heero in the Wing Zero and Lieutenant Commander La Flaga backing him up in the Skygrasper, we can take anything the Eurasians throw at us.

After a few seconds a voice came over the radio. It was male and had a distinct Russian accent, though the speaker's English was perfect. "Attention, Archangel. This is Major Viktor Markov of the Eurasian Federation's 24th Naval Air Division, 4th Tactical Fighter Squadron, aka Volga Squadron. We are under orders to escort you on the final approach to JOSH-A. Broadcasting allied code Alpha Five Seven Red, please respond. Call-sign is Volga One. "

Murrue sighed in relief. That's one of Alaska's codes. They must've given it to the Eurasians... I guess these guys really are friendlies. "Open a channel," she ordered.

"Yes ma'am," said the radio operator. After a few seconds he spoke again. "You're live, Captain."

Murrue nodded before speaking. "Volga One, this is Captain Murrue Ramius, commanding officer of the Atlantic Federation warship Archangel. Broadcasting response code Delta Six Eight Blue, please acknowledge Major."

"Code confirmed," said Markov, "Your top brass at Alaska feared that you would be uneasy over having Eurasian escorts after the Artemis incident; my squadron was given that recognition code from Admiral Sutherland himself before we launched. Requesting permission to form up overhead."

"Granted, Major," she replied.

"Thank you, Captain," said Markov as his fighters moved in, entering a broad circle formation over the white warship, "Be advised, we will be encountering naval patrols soon. They are Eurasians like us, so please do not be alarmed; the Atlantic Federation asked for our country to send as many forces to JOSH-A as we could."

"I was unaware of this," said Murrue, "Do you happen to know why, Major?"

"Da," replied the Major, "The Atlantic Federation top brass is organizing a counter-offensive in the Pacific; it's part of the preparations to deal with ZAFT's Operation Spitbreak once it is unleashed. My country's forces were asked to use Alaska as a rally point and staging ground; I believe your own military is gathering strength along the California coast, along with your Pearl Harbor base." Laughter came over the radio. "You have been out of touch for quite some time, Captain. Understandable, of course; with all the N-jammer interference plaguing the Earth, the best you can do for long range communications is burst transmissions, which are hardly sufficient for something like this. I understand you were at Pearl Harbor recently, so doubtless you saw some of the buildup. It seems you were not notified as to the reason though."

"Indeed," said Murrue, "thank you for the information." It bugged her that the higher ups saw no problem with one of their allies giving her important data while ordering their own senior commanders to keep her in the dark, but for the moment there was nothing she could do about it. Still, she thought, something feels odd about all this, though I can't say what. Perhaps we'll learn more when we get to headquarters.

"Copy that, Captain," the Russian replied, "Now, we probably ought to stop flooding the airwaves for awhile. Volga One, out."

As the Major cut the connection, Murrue quickly opened a new channel on her private radio and monitor, this time with Wing Zero.

Heero appeared on his screen, as always a picture of calm professionalism. "What is it, Murrue?"

"Heero, you can come back to the bridge," she said, "The fighters are friendly; they used one of Alaska's contact codes, so they're operating in coordination with the Atlantic Federation."

The Gundam pilot nodded. "Roger that. I'll be right up." With that he cut the connection.

Turning her attention back towards the forward viewport, Murrue watched as the twelve fighters circled overhead. They're keeping a tight formation, she thought, Volga Squadron must be one of the better Eurasian fighter units.

A couple minutes later she heard the bridge door open, and knew who was approaching her. She turned and smiled as Heero came over to his usual spot by her side. "Looks like things are finally going our way," she said.

Heero nodded, though as he turned out to view the Su-63Ks his eyes narrowed. "I wonder… why did the Alaska top brass send Eurasian fighters and not their own units? Surely they would prefer for their latest battleship to be escorted by forces from its homeland."

"That's a good point," said Murrue, following his gaze, "I know the flight leader said the Atlantic Federation was concentrating its Pacific forces in buildups at Hawaii and California, but they still should've been able to send one of the Alaska fighter squadrons out to greet us. Still, the fact that the Eurasians are actually working with us this time definitely qualifies as good news."

"True," said Heero, "It'll be nice to have professional forces as allies, rather than paramilitaries. I wasn't exactly impressed by the Desert Dawn fighters in North Africa, even if they did help us beat Waltfeld's army."

Murrue nodded. "Agreed. The rebels had determination and passion, but they weren't disciplined. Once our debriefing at Alaska is completed, I imagine we'll be assigned to one of the front line fleets, so we'll definitely have more dependable support than we did in Egypt."

"Unless they decided to use the Archangel as an independent unit," said Heero, "Considering our performance up until now, they may decide that this ship would be better suited to solo operations."

"I hope that's not the case," Murrue replied, "All this fighting without support is starting to wear on me."

"I know," said Heero, his expression softening somewhat, "You hide it well, but I can tell you're exhausted."

She had to smile at his concern. "I am tired… but then again, so is the rest of the crew. I imagine that would go for you as well, Heero."

The young man shook his head. "I'm alright. I don't mean to brag, but I've been in worse situations than this ship's journey."

I know, she thought, remembering that night in North Africa when he'd told her about Operation Meteor and the Eve Wars, and I don't think you're bragging at all, Heero. After all you went through in your world, fighting alone… having any support must make things seem far easier here in comparison.

Regardless of how well she had gotten to know him, Murrue still marveled at Heero's strength. "I'm sure you have," she said, "It'll be nice once we finally dock at the base; then we can relax a little."

"Won't the top brass want to see you immediately for debriefing?" asked Heero.

"Not quite," said Murrue, "Traditionally, the Captain of an Alliance warship is given a little time after their ship docks at a major base to make final notes and adjustments to the reports they must present to their superiors. This grace period tends to range from a few hours to a full day; it largely depends on the time of arrival and how busy the top brass are at the moment."

"I see," said Heero, "Hopefully they'll opt for the latter; I'm sure the debriefing will be thorough and exhausting. You should rest up before then."

"If they go with that," said Murrue, "then I'll be sure to follow your advice." She smiled again at the Gundam pilot. "Although, if they want to see you along with Natarle and I for the debriefing, I think I'd be fine no matter how little rest I got."

It was true; recalling how he had quietly supported her during their debriefing by Halberton and his staff prior to the orbital battle, Murrue knew that she could withstand any scrutiny, regardless of how tough it was, with Heero by her side.

The young man smiled slightly at that. "I was going to do that anyway. After all you've done to get this ship and its crew here safe, you deserve to have someone defending you. I'm going to back you up in there, whether they like it or not."

"And if they decide not to allow you to accompany us for the debriefing?" asked Murrue.

His smile became a smirk. "Then I'll have to find another way in. That won't be a problem; I've gotten pretty good at sneaking around over the years. I don't think that will be necessary though; if Halberton and his staff were any indication, your superiors have a keen interest in Wing Zero and myself. It's just a feeling right now, but I think they'll want me to come with you and Natarle for the debriefing."

Murrue laughed a bit. "I hope you don't have to resort to sneaking in… though I must admit, it'd be entertaining to see the looks on the faces of the top brass when you suddenly appear in the room." She met Heero's gaze, once again feeling drawn to his piercing blue eyes. "Heero, seriously; thank you. Knowing that you support my actions… that's more than enough for me."

He nodded. "You're welcome, Murrue."

The two of them turned back towards the main viewport, both deep in thought. Murrue's concerns over the coming meeting with the Alliance top brass were lessened by seeing Heero's resolve to back her up no matter what, and she was once again nearly overcome with gratitude towards the young man. To have someone like you supporting me, Heero… it's far more than I deserve. Thank you… my guardian angel.

The ship cruised without disturbance for about an hour, with its fighter escort overhead. From time to time other squadrons on patrol would appear on the radar, all composed of Eurasian Su-63Ks. However, the quiet was soon broken by another update from the sensors operator.

"Captain," he said, "multiple large surface contacts showing up on radar. I count twenty… no, thirty… Christ, the numbers won't stop climbing!"

"Calm down," said Murrue, "Check the IFF beacons; they're most likely the Eurasian naval forces."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, "They are… but there's just so many of them!"

As the officer tried to get an accurate fix on just how many vessels there were, Murrue saw the Alaskan mainland appear on the horizon… along with scores of ships. Her eyes widened as an armada of warships seemed to materialize in front of her. No wonder the sensors are going crazy, she thought, there must be at least a hundred ships out there!

Regaining her composure, Murrue looked to her right, where Heero was standing. The Gundam pilot was as cool and collected as ever, though his Prussian blue eyes had narrowed as the allied fleet appeared on the horizon.

I wonder what he's thinking, she mused as she watched him. With all that he had been though, Murrue knew that Heero saw things differently than other people, and that included even veteran soldiers like herself. Murrue had seen her share of action even before Heliopolis, but she knew that it paled in comparison to what Heero had done in his war. As they approached the allied fleet, she found herself almost overwhelmed with curiosity for the young man next to her. Regardless of how much Heero had told her about himself, how much Murrue had gotten to know him, there were still things she wanted to learn about him.

How does a young man like him view something like this? How does a pilot who challenged the entire world to battle at the age of fifteen analyze this kind of situation? His mind is incredibly sharp; it has to be, considering the strain he places on himself with the Zero system. With his wits focused to such an acute degree, and his ability to process information at speeds much faster than someone like me… how does he see the world?

Those questions and many others regarding the Gundam pilot swirled through her mind, but she forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. I have a job to do… and besides, those are very personal questions. Heero's already told me so much about himself… including extremely painful events in his past… I can't be greedy, always wanting more. I'm sure he'd answer if I asked him, but I have to respect his privacy. I certainly can't ask something like that in front of the bridge crew. Perhaps… if we continue to grow closer, maybe…

Murrue felt a familiar surge of heat rush to her face as that last thought went through her mind, and it was not helped by the fact that she was still looking at Heero. It didn't go unnoticed by him, either; the young man turned to her, his expression softening, showing the touching concern for her that was one of the many reasons Murrue cherished the bond that had grown between them.

"You ok?" he asked.

Murrue smiled, doing her best to keep the red out of her face. "Yes, Heero, I'm fine. I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed by the situation; a few months ago the Eurasians tried to take over the Archangel and steal the Strike. Now here we are…"

"Cruising right into an armada of their ships," Heero finished for her, nodding, "Yeah, I have to admit, my feelings on this are… mixed. I could head back down to the hangar if you want me on standby, just in case something happens."

Murrue shook her head. "It's alright, don't worry about it. If they were going to try something, I think they would've had all these ships further out to see, instead of within visual range of Alaska HQ."

"Ok," he replied, turning back towards the forward viewport, once again focusing on the ships they were approaching, "You're probably right… though I'm still a little uneasy. After you told me about what happened at Artemis, how they locked you guys up and you had to fight your way out of the base… well, let's just say my feelings towards the Eurasian's aren't exactly friendly."

Murrue smiled again. "Mine as well, even though they're supposed to be our allies. I wish we had met you before we'd arrived at Artemis; I imagine you would've made quick work of those thugs that tried to take over the ship. Not to mention having Wing Zero on our side would've made our eventual escape a whole lot easier."

"Yeah," said Heero, nodding, "would've been my usual routine, too; blast my way out. I probably would've destroyed the base before ZAFT's attack did."

"Aside from the Eurasians, I doubt anyone would've missed it," said Murrue, "Artemis's Lightwave barrier was an impressive piece of defensive technology, but the base itself was too far out to be a truly important strategic location. In the end, it was really little more than an expensive bauble for Moscow to flaunt in front of others."

"Reminds me of the Noventa Cannon the Alliance had," said Heero, "Powerful, but strategically unimportant… and destroyed by an ace pilot."

"Who took it out?" said Murrue, "Was it you or one of the other Gundam pilots?"

He shook his head. "It was Zechs. The weapon was part of the Alliance's Mogadishu fortress, and during Treize's Operation Daybreak it remained in the hands of the old guard. Zechs led OZ's attack on the installation in the Tallgeese, and destroyed it with ease."

"I see," said Murrue, trying to imagine the scenario. Zechs Marquise was the only pilot in Heero's world that fought him on an even footing. Any foe that wasn't either him or another Gundam pilot would've stood no chance against him. She gave up after a few seconds, since Heero had not actually shown her any images of the Tallgeese or any other MS from his world. I suppose that's another thing I'll have to ask him about sometime… but not now. We have more important things to worry about, and I've asked him enough for one day.

She was surprised to see the young man looking at her, a small smile on his face. "I'll show you the schematics sometime… along with those of the Gundams, both the ones used in Operation Meteor and the upgrades. That is, if you want me to, of course."

Her eyes widened slightly at that before she returned his smile. Honestly, it's almost like he can read minds sometimes. Heero, I don't know if you perceived my interest, or if your timing was just sheer luck… the former would not surprise me.

"I'd like that," she said, "but don't feel like you have to show me right away. After all, I imagine we'll both be busy the next few days."

"I won't argue with that," he replied before returning his gaze to the forward viewport, Murrue following suit.

A minute later the ship's fighter escort broke off and made their way towards the fleet. Murrue assumed that they were heading for their carrier. The ship had no need of a dedicated fighter escort now; aircraft filled the sky overhead. Beyond the screen of ships and planes was the mouth of a large bay, at the end of which Murrue knew lay the Alaska base.

"Sensors," said Murrue, "Do you have a more accurate fix on the ships in the Eurasian fleet?"

"Yes, ma'am," the officer replied, "Radar shows 175 surface contacts; 20 heavy aircraft carriers, 25 escort carriers, 22 heavy missile cruisers, 86 destroyers, 14 heavy tankers, and six heavy supply freighters."

Quite the force, thought Murrue, especially with their naval aviation; a Eurasian heavy carrier has a complement of 48 planes, while an escort carrier holds half of that. Altogether that's 1,560 naval aircraft. I know the majority tend to be fighters, but there should also be strike planes in the mix.

Murrue heard Natarle whistle. "That must be at least half of the Eurasian surface fleet," the Lieutenant said.

"Probably something around there," said Murrue before turning to the sensor officer again, "What about sonar contacts?"

"Multiple contacts on the wide array," he replied, "Hang on a second… I have 54 attack submarines, profiles are Alpha Vs. I'm also detecting 20 larger contacts. Verifying… they're Theta-class submarine carriers. I'm detecting large amounts of smaller contacts as well, probably their mini-subs."

The fact that so many Thetas are here means the Eurasians have almost their entire Aqua Dart force in this armada, Murrue thought, not counting the ones fielded from coastal installations. The Aqua Dart was a small attack submarine jointly developed by the Atlantic and Eurasian Federations. Designed in an attempt to counter ZAFT's underwater mobile suits, the unit functioned like the submarine equivalent of a fighter. Shaped like an arrowhead and slightly smaller than the Atlantic Federation's Spearhead fighter jet, the craft was armed with two micro-torpedo launchers and two masers, beam weapons capable of operating underwater. Fast and maneuverable by submarine standards, the Aqua Dart was nevertheless no match for either a GOOhN or ZnO in a one-on-one fight, and like the Alliance fighters and mobile armors required superior numbers in order to take on its mobile suit counterparts.

Since the Aqua Dart was a small craft, its range was naturally limited, which meant that the Alliance had needed to develop a carrier vessel for it. The Eurasian's had developed the Theta-class submarine to fulfill that purpose, while the Atlantic Federation had chosen to modify several of its Angler-class escort carriers with moon pools along the bottom of their hulls in order to launch and retrieve the mini-subs.

At 300 meters in length, the Theta was larger than ZAFT's Vosgulov-class submarine/carrier, and since it did not carry any air units it had more internal space for storing the Aqua Darts. Each vessel held twelve of the little attack subs, in addition to its own armaments of four torpedo launchers at the bow and sixteen surface-to-surface missile launchers along its dorsal surface. When the compliments of all 20 of the carriers were added together, that made for 240 Aqua Darts that could be fielded in an engagement.

All this firepower, thought Murrue as the Archangel began to pass through the armada, it's truly impressive. Combining both surface and underwater elements, and this is probably over half of the Eurasian Federation's naval strength. Of course, that means the rest of their fleet is stuck patrolling their home waters now; with so many vessels out here, Moscow's ability to project its power in any other region is nonexistent.

A thought went through her head as she looked at the swarm of fighters overhead. I wonder… did they only send a naval force, or are there other elements of their military on the ground?

"Sensors," she said, "Get me profiles of all fighters in the area. Also, scan for allied forces on the coastline and as far into the interior as our radar can reach."

"Yes, ma'am," said the sensor officer, "Fighters… it's mixed, Captain. The majority are Su-63Ks, but there are also MiG-75s up there as well." The MiG-75 was the latest incarnation of the old MiG-31 Foxhound interceptor, and shared the same basic frame design, though the weapons and engines were far superior to its ancestor's, which would literally destroy themselves after a few minutes of running at its impressive top-speed of over Mach Three. The MiG-75 was also a single seat craft as opposed to its predecessor, which had had a crew of two.

I thought so, Murrue mused, they sent planes from their air force as well; the MiG-75 can only operate from ground bases. If they're here, then there's a strong possibility that…

Before she could even finish her thought, the sensor operator spoke again. "Captain, I have IFF beacons from multiple armored units both along the coastline and further inland; the Eurasians sent ground forces as well!"

"I see," she replied, "try to get a handle on how many divisions are in the area as we move into the bay."

"Understood, Captain," he said.

Murrue looked over at Heero, who turned to her as well. "If the Atlantic Federation asked for Eurasian ground units to come here as well…"

"Then your superiors must've redeployed their own divisions elsewhere," Heero finished for her, nodding. "Panama's a strong possibility, since the Atlantic Federation top brass seem convinced that the spaceport there is the target of ZAFT's coming offensive, at least according to that burst transmission we got back in the Indian Ocean."

"Yes," said Murrue, "and what updates I've received still indicate that their line of thought hasn't changed. They must be pretty stretched for armored divisions if they're redeploying Alaska's defense forces though… I have to admit, I'm getting worried again."

"I don't blame you there," said Heero, "Something about this doesn't feel right… is it possible the Eurasians actually forced them out? We could be walking into a trap."

Murrue shook her head. "If that were the case, then Hawaii would've heard about it, and they would've sent their forces along with us to retake the base. Besides, Alaska does have its own naval squadrons; if the Eurasians did attack, they would've fought back, and there'd be debris all over the area, not to mention sunken hulls. We would've picked something like that up on our sonar array by now."

Heero nodded. "You're right. Still…"

"I know," said Murrue, "There's something about all this that I don't like. Unfortunately, I don't know what that something is."

"Same here," replied Heero, "We'll just have to stay on our toes."

"Agreed," she said, "I'm counting on you if things go south."

She was comforted by the strength and determination in his eyes as she met his gaze. "Roger that," said Heero.

Turning back towards the forward viewport, they watched as the ship entered the mouth of the bay. Over three miles wide, the sides of the bay were sheer cliffs. However, from where the two points of the mouth met the open ocean and spreading outwards, the coast was a gravelly shore, and naturally vulnerable to an amphibious assault. That was why so many of the naval forces in the area were out of the bay, along with ground divisions inland; it did no good to just defend the entrance if the enemy simply landed their forces on the beaches outside the bay and swung around to hit HQ from the sides and behind. Murrue knew that there were extensive networks of fortifications stretching for several miles in both directions… though as they passed more Eurasian vessels and received additional reports of ground contacts with their ally's IFF beacon, she began to wonder just how much of those defense lines were manned by her own nation's soldiers now. Just how big of a force did Moscow send here?

As the Archangel made its way further into the bay, it became apparent that the Eurasian contributions to Alaska's ground defense were as large as their naval force. Eventually the radar operator was able to get a rough estimate of the number of units deployed, and the figures were quite impressive; fourteen combined arms divisions, with seven on each side of the bay. They were comprised of mixed formations of tanks, self-propelled guns, multi-rocket and missile batteries, and mechanized infantry. They also had their own air units, which included both helicopters and fighters, in the case of the latter the MiG-75s.

The finally tally for the ground forces was impressive; altogether there were 300 tanks, 550 artillery pieces including both guns and the rocket and missile batteries, 140 attack helicopters, and 168 MiG-75 fighters. When combined with the infantry and support personnel, the amount of Eurasian soldiers on land was nearly 140,000. Despite her misgivings, Murrue also felt her confidence rising slightly. If the Eurasians were willing to send this much support, she thought, then maybe whatever plan our top brass have for dealing with ZAFT's coming offensive just might be able to work. We've been on the defensive for so long now… maybe this will allow us to take away the enemy's momentum and give us the opportunity to counter-attack. But… to what end?

It was no secret that the war had been going badly for the Alliance, but Murrue had her own concerns over what a shift to the offensive would mean for her side. The top brass had ultimately been vague as to the long term strategic objectives of the war, and all Murrue had ever heard when she'd tried to figure those aims out was the same spiel over and over again; bring the conflict to an end.

But, she thought, considering that our opening act of this war was a nuclear attack against a civilian colony… what does that end entail? Murrue had been horrified at the slaughter of the people who'd lived in Junius Seven, and had considered the attack to be an act of sheer barbarism. The colony had posed no military threat whatsoever; hell, it had been an agricultural facility!

It was shortly afterwards that rumors had spread that the unit that had carried out the attack had been commanded by officers who were secretly members of the anti-Coordinator society Blue Cosmos. It wasn't hard to believe, considering how publicly the group had preached that all Coordinators should be annihilated. Murrue was filled with nothing but contempt and disgust for the organization… and that had only multiplied a hundredfold with the attack on Junius Seven. However, much to her shock and horror, not one member of the unit that had carried out the nuclear strike had been brought up on charges of war crimes, or even insubordination or acting without orders.

It was then that she'd had the sickening suspicion that the attack was in fact ordered by the highest branches of the Alliance… but she'd had little time to think of the implications, for shortly after the attack her own ship had been deployed to the front lines, and Murrue was then faced with the far more immediate concerns of protecting the people serving under her. It was an obligation and duty she'd carried out to the best of her abilities throughout the war, so much that the only time she had been able to relax and think at all was after Heero had entered her life. Of course, in the time she had spent with him, she'd been so focused on learning more about them, and also had not wanted to sour their conversations and bonding by bringing up a nuclear massacre that the young man was doubtlessly already aware of thanks to all the files he'd read.

Looking over at the Gundam pilot, she had to wonder what he had made of the Bloody Valentine Tragedy and the circumstances surrounding it. Heero, she thought, though you haven't spoken of it, I'm sure you have some very strong opinions regarding that attack. I've come to know you well enough that I'm confident you don't hold that heinous act against myself and my crew, but I'm sure your thoughts are very different for the Alliance as a whole. I certainly can't blame you for that; I know how highly you value innocent life… and how dearly it wounds you when civilians are caught up in acts of war. The accidental deaths of those people in your past, including that little girl and her dog, scarred you far more than any physical trauma could… I can't begin to imagine the outrage that a deliberate attack against civilians would evoke within you… especially something like the Bloody Valentine.

It was something she would have to ask him about sometime… but not now. With their inevitable confrontation with the Alliance top brass nearly upon them, Murrue knew that they both had enough to worry about as it was.

Returning her attention to the front of the bridge, Murrue saw that the ship was finally approaching the end of the bay. She saw a massive waterfall ahead, and knew that behind it lay the entrance to the base's primary docking facility. Murrue knew from files she'd read earlier that the entire facility was a sprawling underground complex, with the most vital areas capable of surviving a direct nuclear attack.

"Captain," said the radio officer, "I have JOSH-A control on the line; we have clearance to proceed."

Murrue nodded. "Helm, take us in."

"Aye, Captain," said Ensign Neumann, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he slowly moved the ship through the waterfall.

When the view cleared, Murrue and the others were greeted by the sight of a massive docking facility, with space not just for the Archangel but at least a score of other vessels. Indeed, there were several other ships at berth inside; most of them appeared to be Atlantic Federation submarines. The docks were alive with activity, with mechanic crews bustling all over the catwalks that ran overhead.

As the helmsman moved the warship towards its berth, the radio officer spoke up again. "Captain, I have a message for you from Alaska Command. They say 'Congratulations on arriving here safely. Captain Ramius, you and Lieutenant Badgiruel will be summoned tomorrow at twelve-hundred hours for debriefing. The two of you are to submit your final reports three hours prior to this, detailing all that has transpired since the battle in orbit. Also, you are ordered to have Heero Yuy accompany you to the debriefing.' That is all, ma'am."

Murrue nodded and then turned to Heero. "Well, looks like you won't have to sneak in after all. Your instincts were right on the money."

"I figured as much," he said, "You should let them know about Wing Zero's security measures, just in case they get…curious."

Murrue smiled. She knew that Heero was saying that more for the benefit of the rest of the bridge crew than for her, since she was the only one that knew of the modifications he had made to his security system, along with the override code. A small part of her felt guilty about deceiving her subordinates, but at the same time she could not help but feel thrilled as she played along with the Gundam pilot's bluff. To know that Heero has this kind of faith in me… it's an incredible feeling.

She turned once again to the radio officer. "Please inform High Command that we acknowledge their message. Also, advise them that if they send anyone aboard the ship to have them keep clear of Wing Zero; we don't want them to trigger its self-detonation device, after all."

"Copy that," he replied, relaying her message. After a few seconds he received their reply. "Captain, High Command acknowledges your warning, and says that they are already aware of the situation. Apparently Admiral Halberton mentioned Wing Zero's security measures in his report to them before the orbital battle."

"That's good to know," said Murrue, "and one less thing we have to worry about."

"I have an additional message from Command," said the officer. Murrue was concerned at how the man now seemed to be uneasy.

"What is it?" she asked.

The radio officer looked down for a moment before meeting her gaze. "High Command orders that none of us leave the ship. That goes for the senior officers as well, save for the debriefing tomorrow."

Murrue's eyes widened at the announcement. "What? But… why? We're Atlantic Federation soldiers, and this is one of our country's bases! It's not like the situation at Artemis; we're on our home turf. I could understand if they'd only give us limited access to the facilities here; that'd be perfectly reasonable. But to forbid us from leaving the ship at all? They have no reason to go that far!" Murrue had been hoping that her crew would be given the chance to get off the ship and relax a little; even though nearly the entire facility was underground, the Alaska base still had amenities to offer to soldiers whose ships were docked there.

"Nevertheless," said Natarle from the CIC, "if those are the orders, then there's nothing we can do. It isn't our place to question High Command."

Murrue knew that she was right, but that did nothing to ease the upwelling of anger and indignation within her. After all we've been through, she thought, to get this ship here in one piece... I know we lost the Strike, but we recaptured the Buster, and we still have all of Kira's combat data. We fought our way across half the planet to get here, and now that we've arrived they confine us? We deserve better, damn it!

Her grip on the arms of her chair tightened, and with a great deal of effort she forced herself to remain calm. Murrue was helped immensely by a familiar hand on her right shoulder, and as she turned to face Heero their eyes met, and she knew that he understood her feelings, knew what she was thinking. The Gundam pilot gave her a small nod, which said plenty; there was no point in arguing and getting herself into trouble with her superiors.

Murrue nodded in return, a gesture of gratitude on her part, and turned back to the bridge crew. "Very well," she sighed, "Tell them we acknowledge, and will stand by for further orders."

"Yes ma'am," said the radio officer.

Meanwhile, Ensign Neumann had finished the docking procedures, so smoothly that no one had noticed until now. He's gotten quite skilled at maneuvering this ship, thought Murrue, I'm glad he was assigned to the Heliopolis project.

She stood up and turned to Natarle. "Lieutenant Badgiruel, you have the bridge. I'm going to complete my report for tomorrow." Murrue then gave her a small smile. "Consider yourself relieved in four hours; I'm sure you have final touches to make on your own as well."

The black haired woman nodded. "Thank you Captain."

"I'll see you tomorrow then," said Murrue as she left the bridge, Heero right behind her.

As the door closed behind them, she turned to the young man and smiled. "Thank you for earlier, Heero. I know I was having…difficulty controlling myself there. You helped me keep my cool."

Heero nodded. "You're welcome Murrue, though you did alright by yourself; I definitely can't blame your indignation, under the circumstances."

The beautiful Captain sighed. "After all we've been through, all my crew have suffered… they should be able to relax now that we've finally made it to Alaska. Instead they're confined… why? It makes no sense!"

"I know," said Heero, surprising Murrue by gently grabbing her hand, "I don't like it either, and you're right; there's no reason for them to act like this."

Their eyes met again, and Murrue felt her face redden slightly as the Gundam pilot gave her a small smile. "What you've accomplished, getting this ship here in one piece, is an unparalleled feat. You had minimal-if any-support, you were under almost constant attack or threat thereof, and yet you still commanded this ship in a voyage across half the world, starting from behind enemy lines and fighting through overwhelming odds… you went well beyond the call of duty. I don't know why the top brass are treating you like this, and you sure as hell don't deserve it; you're the best damn Captain I've ever seen, Murrue."

"Heero…" said Murrue, nearly overwhelmed by his praise. After a moment she smiled again, with even greater gratitude than before. She felt something else as well; pride. Knowing that Heero thought so highly of her, even after the tragic loss of Kira and Tolle in the Marshall Islands… it boosted her confidence in a way that nothing else could. She also couldn't deny the fact that the warmth in her face had been increasing steadily as Heero spoke, and Murrue was half-surprised that she hadn't swooned right there on the spot… which promptly brought up images of her falling into the Gundam pilot's arms, which certainly didn't help the matter.

Acting purely on instinct, Murrue pulled Heero in a hug. "Thank you so much," she whispered into his ear, "knowing you feel that way… means the world to me."

She felt his slender yet strong arms return the embrace, his hands pressing against her pack as he pulled her even closer. "I'm glad, Murrue," he said, "I know important the safety of your crew is to you. Others would probably call it a weakness, but they're wrong; your determination to protect those serving under you is one of your greatest strengths."

The two of them pulled back just far enough so that they could meet each other's eyes while still holding each other. As they did so, the young man who had captured Murrue's heart spoke again. "It's true that we can't protect everybody, regardless of how much we wish it were otherwise… but that shouldn't stop us from trying. You embody that sentiment in a way I've never seen before… and it's why you're so strong."

Murrue looked down, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I wouldn't go that far," she said, "Whatever strength I have is nothing compared to yours, Heero."

"You're wrong, Murrue," he replied, causing her to look at him again, "As a mobile suit pilot, and an independent fighter at that, the only responsibility I have is to look after my own life and those I chose to protect, and defeating my enemies. You, however, as the Captain of a warship, have so much more weight on your shoulders; the lives of your subordinates- including the combat pilots, your mission objectives, keeping your ship running, maintaining discipline among the crew… balancing all of that at once is something I could never do."

Try as she might, Murrue couldn't think of a suitable reply to that statement. She still believed that Heero's strength was greater than hers; he'd taken on the entire world at the age of fifteen, for crying out loud! However, she couldn't bring herself to refute what he'd said, especially since it was such an open display of the confidence he had in her. In the end, as the two of them released each other, all she could do was smile again.

Apparently it was enough for the Gundam pilot, who nodded in return, still keeping that slight smile of his own. "I know you told Natarle that you were going to make the final adjustments to your report… but that can wait until after you get something to eat can't it?"

Murrue couldn't help but laugh a little at his words. "Yes, I suppose it can." Gently taking his hand in hers, she nodded. "Let's go, Heero."

….

The sun was setting on Kaoshiung, but the advent of evening did not herald any respite for Commander Rau Le Creuset, at least not any time soon. Sitting in his office at the spaceport, the masked ace and operations chief for the Spitbreak forces was busy sending out his latest instructions to the myriad of units under his jurisdiction.

I really should've increased my staff size, he mused as finished typing the orders for the 3rd High Seas Fleet, as things stand now, my subordinates are swamped with requisitions and status updates. After a moment he shrugged. No matter; we're in the final prep stages now. There's hardly any point in requesting more personnel for my office now that we're here.

A buzzer interrupted his thoughts. "Commander Creuset," he said, pressing a button on his desk, "What is it?"

"Sir," said his adjutant, "Supreme Chairman Zala is on the line for you."

"Patch him through immediately," he replied.

The familiar face of Patrick Zala appeared on the Commander's computer screen. "Le Creuset," he said, "I trust things are proceeding as planned?"

While showing no outward displeasure, inwardly Creuset was annoyed with the Chairman; Zala had taken to calling him almost every other day for updates. The Kaoshiung base commandant sends status reports to the Defense Council every day. Can't he read those instead of pestering me?

Still, he needed to stay in Zala's good graces for his own plans to proceed, so for now he would humor the head of the radical faction. "Of course, sir," said Creuset, "Our landing force is at 90% readiness; a few more days and they'll be at full capacity. I've already dispatched advanced elements of the submarine fleet to their standby positions; the main armada will rendezvous as soon as the last personnel and supplies have been loaded."

The black haired man nodded, taking a moment to smooth a slight crease in his violet and black uniform. "The positions of the advance elements… they're not likely to be discovered by Alliance submarine patrols?"

"Hardly," said Creuset, smiling, "The Alliance has played right into our hands; the disinformation campaign has paid off, and with interest."

Zala grinned. "Excellent. I knew you were the right person to place in charge of that operation." His expression then became more sympathetic. "Forgive me for keeping you at Commander for so long, my friend; that rank is the most flexible within our armed forces, so it serves my purposes well to have my right hand man as the most decorated holder of that position in ZAFT. Come the completion of Operation Spitbreak though, I promise your elevation to Field Marshal."

Creuset bowed his head, while musing at the irony of the Chairman's statement. Your 'right hand man," Zala? Oh, if you only knew just how reversed the situation was… you've proven to be a very capable piece in this game. A pity you'll never know until it's all over. No… even then, I doubt you'll truly comprehend the artistry that went into playing you and your sycophantic ilk.

Still, for now the façade of obedience was needed in order bring his dreams to fruition, so he would continue his little act for the time being. "I'm grateful, Supreme Chairman Zala."

"Please," he replied, "No need to stand on ceremony right now, Le Creuset." He smiled again. "I trust the fleet commanders have given you no problems?"

Creuset shook his head. "I've received no difficulties from them. The 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 7th, and 9th High Seas Fleets are all well disciplined forces, and their commanding officers have proven themselves in the past to be quite capable. The same is true for the ground assault commanders."

"Good to know," said Zala, "I trust Zubov is behaving himself?"

Creuset smirked. "As well as one can expect. Both the Grün and Rot Teams are here as well, and Zubov has never gotten along with the two of them. Other than the usual posturing though, I see no cause for concern."

"Excellent," said Zala, "After all, those three teams are the tip of our spear, and they will be essential if Wing Zero is in the area."

"Indeed," said the masked Commander. Privately, of course, Creuset had little confidence in the abilities of Zala's handpicked pilots to take down the mobile suit that had become the bane of ZAFT, but that wasn't a big concern of his. So long as they can keep it busy for a little while, he thought, that will do nicely. Even if it's just for the opening phase of the battle… yes, that's all I require of them. By the time Wing Zero kills them all and begins ripping into our main force, it will be too late to stop what's been set in motion. Besides, Schwarze, Rot, and Grün will prove to be a nice distraction while I confirm that Azrael's done his bit… I have little doubt that he'll play his part as scripted, but it pays to be thorough.

He turned his focus back to the man on his screen. "Is there anything else, sir?"

"No," Zala replied, "That will be all for now. I'll be in touch." With that the connection was cut.

Creuset sighed as he pulled up the orders he'd been composing before Zala had interrupted him. "Of course you will, Chairman."

After completing and sending his latest instructions to the Commander of the 3rd High Seas Fleet, the blond haired masked officer went to his email. He smiled as he saw a message from his 'partner in crime' so to speak; Azrael thought that he was a Natural who had infiltrated the PLANT government, but the truth was… considerably more complicated.

His smile turned into a cruel grin as he read the message from Blue Cosmos' leader. "Wonderful," he said, "more lambs brought to slaughter… I daresay I'm as excited for this performance to begin as Zala."

Deleting the message and logging off his computer, he stood up and walked over to the window. The setting sun had turned the sky a shade of red that was all too reminiscent of blood… a fitting omen for the carnage that would soon be unleashed upon the world.

ZAFT, the Alliance… the two great powers dancing to the tune I call. There are only three wild cards left in the game; the Clyne Faction, Orb…

…and Wing Zero.

….

"Kira!" said Lacus as she stepped out onto the patio, a tray filled with food in her hands, "Are you sure you should be standing up?"

The brown haired, violet eyes boy turned from where he stood leaning against the railing, gazing out at the lake, and smiled. He was still wearing the hospital clothes that had been smuggled over for him to use; plain white shirt and pants. I'll have to get him some new clothes now that he's gotten himself out of bed, she thought, I'm sure father will lend him something until I can go shopping for him.

Kira nodded as she approached and set the food down on the table by his bed before coming over to join him. "I'm ok, Lacus. It's true I'm still sore, and I know my wounds still have a ways to go before they're completely healed, but I feel fine enough to stand. I probably should start moving around a bit, considering how long I've been in bed."

Lacus smiled, pleased to see how much he had recovered. I'm glad he's on his feet again, she thought, When he was stuck in bed before… It had pained her to see him like that, knowing that he had been put in that state by fighting his childhood friend. Now that he was up and walking again, she would no longer have to face that constant reminder. I know his wounds still need more time to heal, but to see that he's made this much progress in just a few days… It certainly warmed her heart.

Standing next to him, she followed his gaze as he looked out at the lake. I wonder… he's lived on the moon and an Orb colony, but he's never been to the PLANTs.

"Kira," she said, "What do you think of our homeland?" Perhaps it was a bit pretentious to say 'our' homeland, but the PLANTs were universally recognized as exactly that for the Coordinators, even if they had never been there.

Kira turned to her and smiled again. "It's incredible, Lacus. It kinda reminds me of Heliopolis, since it's still a space colony… but it's so much bigger! I know we're in only one half of the colony, but this section itself is probably almost as big as all of Heliopolis!"

Lacus nodded. "PLANT colonies are the largest in all the Earth Sphere. I've heard that both the Alliance and Orb had begun new colony projects before the war, with the former trying to build one that would surpass the PLANTs, but the outbreak of the conflict made it too dangerous for fresh construction in space."

"It's too bad," said Kira, a contemplative look in his eyes, "There's so much potential for mankind to develop out in space… the creation of space colonies was a monumental step forward for humanity. If we could all work together in continuing that project… who knows just how far we'd advance?"

"I agree," said Lacus, "Unfortunately, those with the power to unite humanity in that purpose are divided by mistrust and hatred. In the pursuit their own nation's dominance over the Earth Sphere, they only serve to sacrifice the people's future."

"Yeah," said Kira. The two of them were quiet for a moment before the boy spoke again. "I just remembered something; when we met Mister Waltfeld and Miss Aisha in Banadiya, along with the Valkyrie Team, they asked Heero what he thought it would take to end the war. He said something about history being an endless waltz that played out for eternity."

Lacus became curious, both at the strange term Kira had used and at the mention of the pilot from another world. "An endless waltz? What did he mean by that?"

"I think he was equating mankind's cycle of war to a dance," said Kira, "He said the three beats of war, peace, and revolution had gone on throughout our history, and would continue to do so unless a way was found to break the cycle."

Lacus's eyes widened; she'd never thought of it in that way before. The analysis was unique… and completely true. "Did Heero mention a way to do that? Break the cycle, I mean."

"Yeah," said Kira, becoming a little hesitant, "but… he said the price would be steep."

"How so?" asked Lacus, a sense of dread creeping up within her.

"From what he said, I think it was how the war in his world was brought to an end," said Kira, "Heero said that in order to truly unite humanity, our very will to fight had to be destroyed. However, to do that would require a war beyond any that humanity had ever experienced before… and to make everyone bear witness to it. There could be no honor and glory, only straight up kill or be killed… and with mankind's very survival at stake. Only then would humanity truly renounce armed force as a means of resolving differences, and truly dedicate itself to peace and unity."

Lacus gasped. What Kira was saying… what Heero had said… was horrifying beyond belief. However, at the same time, she could not help but feel that the mysterious young pilot was right, in a way. At the very least, she had no doubt that what he had described to Kira and the others in Banadiya was how the war in his world had come to an end. To have experienced something like that firsthand… I can't begin to imagine what he went through. No wonder Miss Shemei said she saw pain in his eyes when they met in Banadiya; how could a war like that have not left its mark on him? And if all of humanity saw it play out, were unable to ignore it… they truly would lose all taste for battle.

"Did Heero… go into any details regarding that war?" asked Lacus, "Along with what happened after?"

Kira shook his head. "No, sorry. I think the only person who he might've told something like that to would be Captain Ramius; she's the only person he really talks to, or at least that's what I've heard."

Lacus remembered the kind and lovely commanding officer of the Archangel, and could understand why Heero would be willing to open up to her. It's true that I did not get to know her as well as I did Kira, she thought, but I have no doubt that she's a strong and compassionate woman; the way she acted during our meeting with Heero in the officers' lounge was proof enough for me. I believe that someone like her would earn his trust, and become a confidant for him; someone willing to comfort him, who would want to ease his pain. If what Kira says is true, and I have no doubt that it is, then I'm sure Heero and Captain Ramius have become close friends since I last saw them. Perhaps we'll meet again someday… I would surely like to.

Lacus smiled at Kira. "It's ok, don't worry about it. I was just curious; he is from another world, after all."

Kira laughed a little. "Yeah, I have to admit I am too. He's only dropped hints in front of me, though. To be honest, I got so used to him being on the Archangel that after awhile it just slipped from my mind that he was from another world." His expression then became a little more serious. "I wonder what it's like over there… especially if they've just ended their own war, like Heero said they did."

"I'm sure they're still in the midst of reconstructing areas damaged in the fighting," said Lacus, "It may be hard, but I'm sure the people of that world find it infinitely preferable to being at war."

"You're right," said Kira. The two of them looked out at the lake again, a peaceful and contemplative silence falling between them. After a couple minutes Kira spoke again. "Lacus… do you think there's a way to end this war? It's been going on for over a year now, and while my own experience with it may be limited… it feels like it's only getting worse. What if that keeps happening?"

She sighed. Lacus had spent more and more time lately pondering those very questions, and she had been unable to find an answer. Like her father and his allies, she wanted to find a way to convince both sides that it was time to sit down and negotiate a ceasefire, but that seemed like an impossible dream in the midst of a steadily escalating conflict.

"I don't know, Kira," she said softly, "Neither side is willing to talk to the other anymore… I fear this will only get worse before it gets better."

She trembled slightly. "I'm… afraid, Kira. For my friends, my father, my people… all of humanity. If this war is not stopped soon, I fear it will consume us all."

Lacus was surprised when Kira gently put his hand over hers on the railing. Meeting his gaze, she saw that his violet eyes, while still gentle, also had a spark of determination within them. "There has to be a way, Lacus. I don't know what that is yet, but if we work together with our friends, I'm sure we can find it."

The pink-haired songstress smiled, all the while feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. "You're right, Kira. We can't give up hope. We have powerful friends and allies, people who want to stop the killing just as much as we do. Between all of us, we can find a way to end this war."

We have to, she thought, recalling Field Marshal Bristow's suspicions that Zala was planning to unleash genocide against the people of Earth, Countless lives hang in the balance… we must find a way. Otherwise… humanity has no future.

….

"Got a minute?" said a familiar voice.

Lieutenant Badgiruel jumped and whirled around, surprised to see Lieutenant Commander La Flaga leaning against the wall next to the bridge door. She sighed in relief. "I'd appreciate it in the future if you wouldn't do that, La Flaga."

The blond pilot gave her a playful smile. "Aw, that's too bad. The way your eyes widened as you turned around was cute, Natarle."

The Archangel's Executive Officer blushed at his words. The relaxed and confident ace had started calling her by her first name on a regular basis whenever they were off duty over the past few days, and that combined with his comment served only to further higher her embarrassment. Why is he the only person on this ship that makes me feel this way? I just can't stay professional around him!

Struggling to regain her composure, she looked over at the wall, unable to meet his gaze in light of her…frustration. "Is there something I can do for you, La Flaga?"

"Well," he replied, "I know you need to finish your final report, but that can wait a little bit, can't it? I was hoping we could talk for a bit in the lounge."

The prospect of spending time alone with him only further flustered her, but she wasn't about to refuse his invitation. Regaining some of her nerve, she looked at him and smiled slightly. "Alright. Let's go."

They made their way over to the lounge, and when they arrived La Flaga went to get their drinks, leaving Natarle to take a seat by the window. After a minute the handsome pilot came over to join her.

"So," he said as he sat down, "how you feeling about tomorrow?"

Natarle sighed. "A little nervous. I mean, sure we made it, and we even recaptured the Buster… but the top brass won't be pleased that we lost the Strike."

"I hear you there," said La Flaga, taking a sip of his coffee, "Still, we have all its combat data recorded, right? So they'll still have the work the kid did on the OS. Maybe it'll be enough for our engineers to modify to the point that a Natural can pilot a mobile suit."

"That'd be good for us," said Natarle, "Frankly though, I'm not concerned about that at the moment."

"Yeah," he replied, "I guess that is a ways off. By the way, how much more work do you need to do on your report?"

"It's almost done," said the Lieutenant, "Although, as you know, I can't discuss the details of it with anyone else."

La Flaga sighed. "Come on, Natarle, loosen up a bit. It's not like I'm going to go around telling everyone what you put in it. Don't you trust me at all?"

Feeling a bit guilty, she smiled slightly. "Of course I trust you. It's just that the regulations are there for a good reason, and as officers it's our duty to follow them."

"For the most part, I think you're right," said La Flaga, "but…"

"What is it?" asked Natarle.

"Well," La Flaga continued, "to put it bluntly, there are situations that the rules don't cover, or aren't very well suited for. Our voyage since Heliopolis has been one example of that after another."

"What are you getting at, La Flaga?" she asked.

His expression became more serious. "Look, Natarle, I know as this ship's XO one of your duties is to have an evaluation of the Captain in your report, and to point out what they've done wrong. I respect that, and I know there's been plenty times during this mission where Captain Ramius has been forced to bend or break the rules… but by that same token, it's because she was willing to do that that we made it here at all."

Natarle sighed. Truth be told, a small part of her mind was aware of that, and had been nagging her even as she'd made a list of the Captain's infractions and breaches of discipline throughout their journey to Alaska. The most egregious examples had been allowing a civilian to pilot the Skygrasper, using black market arms dealers to resupply the ship, and handing over the Strike and Archangel's combat data to Orb.

All of those were blatant violations of Alliance regulations… but, at the same time, Natarle was, albeit reluctantly, able to recognize that Captain Ramius had been forced to make difficult decisions in those matters, and while the Lieutenant disagreed with how her superior had handled the situations in question, there was no doubt that the Captain had acted in what she had felt was the best way to keep the people under her command alive. It displayed a concern for the rank and file soldiers that Natarle knew many Alliance officers did not have, and while the Lieutenant sometimes thought that Ramius could be too humanistic with regards to her subordinates, she also could not deny feeling grateful to have a superior officer that actually cared for the lives of those serving under them.

As all these thoughts went through her head, she was struck by another, and she turned to ask La Flaga about it. "I suppose you're right… but why this sudden concern on your part? Other than the arms deal in Banadiya, you haven't spoken in either support or opposition of the Captains policies. Why bring this up now?"

"First off," said La Flaga, "I actually did support the decision to provide Orb with the Strike and Archangel's data during the meeting with Lord Uzumi, remember?"

"Oh, yes," said Natarle, looking down in embarrassment, "Forgive me; I forgot about that."

The blond pilot smiled. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, as for why I'm trying to convince you to lighten up on the Captain a bit, call it simple gratitude. Whatever our disagreements with her decisions and conduct during our journey, the fact remains that Captain Ramius acted in the interest of us, the crew, more than anything else. That's not a trait you see in a lot of our military's officers nowadays, and I for one respect it. I think you do, too, but your… stiffness, for want of a better term, is preventing you from fully acknowledging it."

Natarle's eyes widened a bit in surprise. That's… remarkably insightful for him. Then she remembered the Lieutenant Commander's little talk with Kira over a week ago, when the boy had apparently been having trouble with Flay. Then again, I suppose he actually is quite good at understanding people. I guess I just keep forgetting that fact… I really need to stop doing that.

She knew that La Flaga was right, and resolved to change some of the wording in her report. What I have written right now, she thought, puts too much emphasis on the negative aspects of her decisions. While it's true that I still disagree with several of her calls and her conduct, La Flaga is right; Captain Ramius has put the people on this ship above everything else, and that does deserve respect. I should be able to better show my gratitude than by dismissing all she's accomplished just because she broke the rules to do it. Natarle's report would still be critical of the Captain, but the Lieutenant would be sure to make sure that the circumstances under which her decisions had been made, along with any positive gains, would be given proper emphasis as well. It's the least I can do.

She smiled at her companion. "Alright, I'll take your words into consideration."

La Flaga grinned and surprised Natarle by putting his arm around her. "See, you can loosen up a bit! Was that so hard?"

He then winced as Natarle elbowed him in the ribs. Natarle was worried for a moment before she saw La Flaga smile again. "Ok, ok; I deserved that."

The Lieutenant smiled again. "At least you acknowledge it, flyboy."

"Hey," he replied, "a man's gotta recognize when he makes a mistake. I can do that."

"Good," she said, surprising herself by reaching over to grab his hand, "I was afraid that pilot ego of yours might prevent you from doing that."

She saw him raise his eyebrows a bit, and felt that it was more in response to what she'd done that what she'd said. Natarle was briefly concerned that she'd made the wrong move, and felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment, but to her great relief the Lieutenant Commander returned her gesture, gently squeezing her hand.

"You shouldn't generalize, Natarle," he said, winking, "I'm not like most mobile armor pilots, after all."

No, she thought, leaning against the shoulder of the man she had begun to fall in love with, you most certainly are not, Mu La Flaga.

For that brief moment in time, just sitting there with the relaxed, charming, and dashing pilot, Natarle felt completely at ease. It was something she had not experienced since the time they'd spent together in Orb.

Maybe he's right, she mused, perhaps I have 'loosened up' a bit, as he might say. She once again felt a bit warmer as she looked up at her fellow officer, who was still wearing that casual, easy-going smile that made her feel like she was a teenage girl all over again.

I guess I can't deny it anymore, she thought, her own smile growing a bit in response to his, I've fallen for him. For this care-free, humorous, and very handsome pilot… yes, I think it's safe to say I'm in love with you, Mu La Flaga.

How do you feel about me?

….

It was a half hour before noon as Heero stood in the washroom of his quarters, checking himself in front of the mirror. He wasn't going to put on his Sanc Kingdom uniform; the Alliance top brass wasn't worthy of that level of respect from him, especially after the cold reception they had given Murrue. However, he was still mindful of the need to appear professional, though he was doing it for Murrue's sake; he didn't give a damn what the High Command thought of him, but he knew it would reflect upon Murrue, and he had vowed to help her in whatever way he could.

That was why he'd changed his usual attire. Rather than wearing his green tank top and either black shorts or blue jeans, Heero instead had on the black pilot suit he'd worn during the Barge accident and his initial encounter with the Archangel. He'd leave the helmet for today, of course, but other than that it was his full space combat attire.

Giving himself one final look over, he went back into the main room, put on his hip holster and made sure his pistol was fully loaded before securing it at his side, and then walked out into the hallway. Moving to his right, he pressed the buzzer on Murrue's door.

"Just a second," he heard her say. A moment later the door opened, and Murrue smiled when she saw Heero. She was wearing her Captain's uniform, of course, but this time she had a white cap with a black bill on as well. Heero knew that the hat was part of her more formal ensemble, and that she would be expected to wear it when she went before the High Command. The Gundam pilot could not help but smile slightly as he saw that she was still openly wearing the necklace he had bought her in Banadiya. I'd understand perfectly if she hid it beneath her shirt, he thought, glancing at the blue stone as it lay against her white uniform, I guess it's really important to her if she's decided not to hide it for something like this.

"Heero," she said, "You're a little early; we're not supposed to receive our summons until noon."

He nodded. "I know, but…" He looked down for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "I was worried about you, so I thought I'd check in. Are you doing alright?" It was true; Heero knew that the debriefing was likely to be tough on Murrue, and that she was apprehensive over it, though she hid it from the rest of the crew quite well.

He saw Murrue's smile grow a little as he voiced his concern. "Heero… thank you. That means a lot to me. Yes, I'm doing ok right now. It's true that I'm a little nervous, but it's nothing I can't handle."

She then looked him over, and her smile became a little playful. "I haven't seen you wear this since we were up in space. You look sharp, Heero."

"Thanks," he said, smiling slightly, "I figured my usual clothes might make the wrong impression on the top brass."

"You're probably right," Murrue replied, "though I'm still a little surprised; I figured you couldn't care less what they thought of you."

"I don't," said Heero, "However, seeing as I'm flying from the Archangel, I know my conduct will reflect upon you, or at least that High Command will see it that way."

"I don't think that's the case," said Murrue, "After all, you're not part of our chain of command; I have no authority over you, which I'm sure Admiral Halberton mentioned in his report to them. They should be well aware of your status as an independent fighter."

"Still," Heero replied, "there's always the chance that they'll have ignored that detail, or consider my flying for the Archangel equating to me following your orders. It's true that I don't defy you; you're a good Captain, and both your tactical and strategic decisions have been sound ones. However, I also fight on my own initiative, something you and your crew are aware of but your superiors might not consider."

"That's a good point," said Murrue, "You've also been instrumental to several of our strategies, particularly in North Africa. I made sure to mention that in my report, but I'm not sure if Lieutenant Badgiruel made the same considerations."

"We'll find out soon enough," said Heero, "Speaking of reports, how did the final touches on yours go?"

"Just fine," she replied, "I submitted it at nine-hundred hours per instructions, and I believe I wrote it to the best of my abilities. I did note my concerns of such a large Eurasian presence at one of our main bases at the end, but I doubt they'll take that into consideration."

Heero nodded. "You're probably right."

Murrue sighed. "Yeah. Well, there's no point in standing around here worrying about it. We still have some time to kill; you want to grab some coffee in the officers' lounge?"

Heero nodded, and the two of them made their way to the lounge. When they got there, the two of them grabbed cups, filled up, and then took seats over by one of the windows. Looking out at the dock, they saw soldiers and mechanics coming and going, though apparently none had business with the Archangel.

After a few sips of his drink, Heero looked over at Murrue and smirked. "I've been meaning to say this for awhile now; no offense, Murrue, but your ship's coffee is horrible."

Murrue laughed at his comment. "None taken, Heero. I actually agree with you on that; it's so bland… honestly, if I didn't need the energy boost I wouldn't drink it."

"Was it this bad on the Antietam?" he asked, referring to her first command.

Murrue nodded and smiled. "It's this bad across the Alliance; they use the same brand on all their ships and facilities."

"Probably because it's dirt cheap," said Heero.

"Yes," said Murrue, "and it's not just coffee; I'm sure you've noticed the lack of variety for our meal choices in the mess. When it comes to soldier comforts, the Alliance tends to spend the bare minimum. Of course, base commanders, fleet admirals, and the top brass can get whatever they want; it's pretty much an open secret that part of the reason front line troops have such limited amenities is because the senior officers gutted that part of the budget and used the funds for their own benefits."

"Disgusting," said Heero, "You deserve better, considering all they put you through. Even OZ and White Fang treated their soldiers better than your government does."

"I'll take your word for it," said Murrue.

The two of them sat there for awhile, drinking and mocking their coffee, engaging in small talk, and in general just whiling away the time until the top brass contacted the ship. It wasn't something Heero had had a whole lot of experience in before he'd met Murrue, but now he did it with little effort. With anyone else he would've been stiff and quiet, but Heero found it remarkably easy to relax around Murrue. It was one more piece of evidence that he had indeed fallen in love with her; he trusted her so completely, and that faith had allowed him to, as Duo might put it, 'loosen up' when he was around her. His instincts remained as sharp as ever, always alert for possible threats, but the level of intensity at which they had kept him was down significantly when he wasn't under immediate threat now, and he knew that his bond with Murrue was the reason for it.

From the moment we met, he thought, looking at the incredible woman sitting next to him, she accepted me for who I was. It's true there was some suspicion at first; considering the circumstances under which we met, I certainly can't blame her for it. But she was willing to talk to me, and has always been respectful and considerate. Now, after I've told her so much about myself… including my worst sins... she still cares for me just the way I am. She didn't judge me because of them, and actually wanted to help me deal with them.

He smiled slightly as she looked over at him. Murrue… you really are an amazing person. Meeting you was the best thing that could ever have happened to me.

Neither of them spoke as they met each other's eyes, but then again they didn't have to. As had happened in the past, there was a quiet understanding between them at the moment, an unspoken acknowledgement of just how deeply they cared for each other, and neither of them wanted to spoil the moment.

Unfortunately, the rest of the world did not share their sentiments. The buzzing of the intercom ruined the content and serene mood between the two of them, and the following announcement did not help matters.

"Attention," came the voice of the officer on watch, Ensign Neumann, "Captain Ramius, Lieutenant Badgiruel, and Heero Yuy; High Command has issued orders for you to leave the ship and report for debriefing. An escort will be waiting for you on the dock."

The two of them stood up, and Heero took Murrue's coffee cup with his own and dumped the contents in the sink while the Captain went to the intercom node by the door. "Understood," she said, "We're on our way."

As Heero moved to join her by the door, she gave him an apologetic look. "Lieutenant Badgiruel and I may be part of the chain of command, but the brass has no right to order you around. I'm sorry about this."

Heero shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It's not your fault. Besides, I was planning on going with you anyway, remember?"

She smiled at his words. "Yes… thank you, Heero."

"No problem," he said, returning her smile with a small one of his own, "Come on, let's get this over with."

The two of them made their way over to the starboard hatch, where Lieutenant Badgiruel was waiting for them. Like Murrue, she was wearing an officer's cap in addition to her usual uniform. She saluted as they approached. "Captain," she said.

"At ease, Lieutenant," said Murrue, nodding at her.

"Yes, ma'am," replied the Lieutenant. She then turned to the Gundam pilot. "Thank you for coming, Heero. I understand that you're not part of our command structure, and I appreciate your cooperation."

A little more gracious than I expected, he mused, perhaps I'm not the only one who's loosened up a bit. Actually, we haven't talked much in general during my time on this ship, so I might be drawing conclusions. Heero nodded in acknowledgement.

While it was true that, as XO, Natarle would be the one criticizing Murrue's decisions over the course of their voyage, Heero didn't feel particularly hostile towards her. She's far more rigid than Murrue when it comes to rules and regulations, he thought, but she's also proven herself to be a professional and competent officer in her own right during our journey. Her analysis will be based on facts and observations, and I doubt there'll be any real prejudice in it. He'd still help Murrue with her defense against Natarle's critiques, of course, but he would do so in a manner that would at least allow the Lieutenant to keep her own dignity. He wasn't exactly fond of her, but he did respect her as a soldier, and would show the courtesy that came with it.

He looked back to Murrue, who nodded at him and Natarle. "Well, no sense in standing around here. Let's get going."

She typed on a keypad on the wall, and the hatch opened up. As the three of them exited the vehicle, Heero moved to the left and slightly in front of Murrue, eyes darting all over the massive docking facility. He didn't care that they were in the heart of Atlantic Federation territory; he was keeping his guard up. Besides, the way the top brass at the base had reacted to their arrival, along with the massive Eurasian forces outside, had his instincts on edge. Something felt off about the whole setup, but Heero was not sure what it was.

The best I can do for now, he thought as the three of them went down the gangway, Natarle to Murrue's right while he kept his unofficial guard position in the group, is stay sharp, observant, and ready to fight. It's the only way I can protect Murrue while we're here. If something happened, his plan was simple; grab Murrue, get her back to the ship and inside Wing Zero with him, take off and blast their way out of the base, and kill everything that wasn't them or the Archangel.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

As they neared the end of the gangway, a group of four soldiers approached. "Captain Ramius," said the leader, "We've been ordered to escort you and your subordinates to the conference room."

Heero didn't particularly care that they had apparently included him in that category, but he saw Murrue give him an apologetic look. Wanting to reassure her, he simply smiled slightly and shook his head; there was no point in making a scene.

Murrue returned his smile before turning back to the soldiers. "Very well," she said, "lead on."

"Yes ma'am," he said.

As they made their way through the docks Heero was constantly looking around, both checking for threats and evaluating his surroundings. He had already seen the dock from his spot on the Archangel's bridge when the ship had arrived, but being down on foot in the middle of the facility gave him a better angle to appreciate the scale of the place. It was massive, far bigger than the hidden dock that the ship had berthed at during their month-long stay in Orb. Even though they had docked towards the rear of the facility, the walk from the ship towards the inner areas of the Alaska base still took a good ten minutes, which gave Heero plenty of time to observe the multitude of human activity around them. There were dozens of trucks and jeeps driving all over the docks, most of them apparently heading towards the large submarines that were berthed all around the Archangel. Heero saw large stacks of crates by the vessels, with crews loading them up as fast as they could.

That's a serious amount of equipment and supplies they're getting ready to ship out, he thought, I wonder where it's all heading. It was a development that made him even more uneasy about the overall situation; according to the files he'd read, the Alaska base was an extremely large facility, whose area was several square kilometers. Keeping a hardened installation supplied and running required gargantuan amounts of provisions, spare parts, and other vital items, and the amount of crates that were piling up on the dock could fill up several warehouses.

Heero's eyes narrowed as he watched the dock crews work. I'm sure there's plenty more supplies in storehouses throughout the base, but what they're pulling out will still be a serious dent in their stockpile. They shouldn't need to take all this from such an important base; the Atlantic Federation encompasses a massive amount of territory, and there must be hundreds of facilities that they can acquire the supplies they need from. What's going on here?

"Heero?" said Murrue, causing him to turn back towards her, "Everything alright?"

The Perfect Soldier nodded while mentally berating himself. She's got enough to worry about right now, he thought, your behavior is only going to add to it. Focus on keeping her safe, Heero; figuring out why the Atlantic Federation is behaving the way it is can wait until after the debriefing.

"I'm fine, Murrue," he said, "Just looking around; the dock's pretty busy today."

Murrue nodded. "I noticed that too. All the submarines docked here are designed as mass cargo and personnel transports; their combat capabilities are limited. I wonder why there are so many of them here?"

Her beautiful brown eyes narrowed slightly, and Heero knew that she felt the same way he did. Something was out of place, but neither of them could place it. The Gundam pilot did take some comfort in the fact that Murrue was thinking along the same lines as he was; even with her more immediate concerns, she was still as observant and quick-thinking as ever.

"Maybe your superiors will let us in on what's going on around here after the debriefing," he said, "Though I won't hold my breath."

"Neither will I," she replied, "They've been pretty tight-lipped with us about some very important developments; hell, we learned more from our Eurasian escort when we arrived here than we did from the base staff that communicated with us."

"They must have their reasons," Lieutenant Badgiruel chimed in, "Perhaps we simply aren't in a position where we need to be read in yet."

"That's hardly a comforting thought," muttered Heero.

"I agree," said Murrue, "though I suppose there's no point in us worrying about it right now. If the top brass decide to keep us in the dark, then there's not much we can really do about it."

True, thought Heero as silence fell amongst the group again, but only to a point. Murrue and Natarle were of course bound by duty to obey the confinement order placed on the crew of the Archangel, aside from the summons for the debriefing… but Heero did not consider himself to be bound by such constraints. While he had no doubt the Alliance did not want him to leave the ship either unless it was in a situation like the one he was in now, his state of heightened suspicion meant that he was seriously considering making use of the infiltration skills he had honed during his own war.

Tonight, he thought, after the debriefing… A plan was already beginning to take shape in his incredibly sharp mind. Heero renewed his scanning of the Alliance docking facility, though he was sure to be more subtle so as not to alarm Murrue. Quickly glancing from the Archangel to the water below, he did a few quick calculations before turning back to his companions. Yes, it should be doable… I'll have to retrieve the Archangel's sensor data to confirm the water depth, but considering how low those subs are already riding at the dock, it shouldn't be a problem. They wouldn't be loading all those supplied onto the subs here if they were worried about them bottoming out, which means this is probably a deep water dock. I'd say at least ten meters just from what I can see from up here; I won't know for sure until later.

He glanced over at the woman he had become so determined to protect, who he cared for more than anyone else he had ever met. Sorry Murrue, he thought, but I'm going to have to do this without your knowledge; I want you to have deniability in case I screw up. He wasn't worried about getting caught, but he still wanted to cover his bases and make sure Murrue wouldn't get in trouble if something went wrong.

As he looked around the dock though, he wasn't too concerned with the possibility of a foul up. The security out here, he thought, noting where the guards were positioned, along with the locations and blind spots of several security cameras, isn't nearly as good as what was on OZ's lunar base or the Libra. Actually, for such a high-profile base, I'm kind of disappointed right now. He'd have to wait until they got further inside before making his final judgment, but he was confident that he'd at least be able to pull off the first stage of his budding infiltration scheme without too much of a hassle.

Eventually they reached the far end of the dock, where a series of large steel doors was located. The lead soldier in their escort led them to one of them and punched a control panel on the wall next to it. Heero noted that the layout was extremely simple, with very few buttons. The key the guard had pressed was a green one, which Heero figured was for opening the door. Indeed the door slid open, revealing a spacious corridor, lined with smaller doors on both sides. It was wide enough for two lanes of cargo hauler traffic and pedestrians along the side, and indeed Heero saw one such vehicle coming their way now. Their escort led them to the right side, and they merged with the rest of the foot traffic as the hauler passed by them and out towards the dock, laden with more supply crates.

Impressive, thought Heero as they moved along, I imagine that large corridors like this one lead to their storehouses, while the smaller doors along the sides lead to the main facilities. The scale of this base is really something. As they travelled along the corridor- tunnel would be a more apt word- Heero once again noted the placement of the security cameras. There were no hiding places in the broad area, which meant that Heero would have to disguise himself during his infiltration run later that evening. That wasn't a huge concern though; he'd already planned on doing that anyway.

They travelled down the spacious tunnel for about five minutes before their guide turned to one of the doors to their right. Once again he pressed a green button on a keypad, and the door slid open. These areas must be open to all personnel, he noted, otherwise they'd at least have an encryption or card key system. Security will probably get tighter the further we go in.

They entered a narrower hallway, similar to the kind that had run from Morgenroete's hidden docking facility to its corporate offices. As they travelled down it for awhile, Heero observed the people that they passed by; officers, enlisted men and women, support staff, security personnel… all the usual occupants one would expect of a high-profile base.

Most of the doors they passed were shut, but from the few open ones he saw Heero guessed that they were currently making their way through the general administrative section of the base. He saw rows of people in most of them, both men and women, typing on computers, with the occasional supervisor checking in. With all the activity here, he thought, they must have a lot of paperwork to get done. Glad I never wound up with an office job; I'd be bored to death doing something like that.

He made note of the security measures for the office areas, and saw that they were rather minimal; a simple keypad by the doors, along with the occasional camera. Easy enough to slip past, he thought, that keypad design is similar to the ones used by the old U.E.S.A., so hotwiring them shouldn't be a problem. As for the cameras, that'll be where my disguise comes in handy. He already knew exactly what he'd use, too; one of the mechanic crew's jumpsuits. He had already seen dozens of people wearing them on the docks, confirming to him that the kind used by the Archangel's technicians was uniform throughout the Alliance. The fact that many of the mechanics also opted for a simple green hat to go with the orange jumpsuits was even better, since he'd be able to use that to conceal his face from the security cameras.

They continued down the hallway for a few minutes until they came to an elevator. As they entered the lift and began their descent, Heero did his best to keep track of how far underground they were. It wasn't easy, but by using the elevator's speed and the amount of time it took before it stopped, he figured that they had descended about 500 meters, give or take a few.

When they exited the elevator, Heero saw that the personnel makeup for the floor they were now on was different. There was the occasional mechanic or other support staff member, but the majority of the people he saw were officers. This must be one of the main control areas, he thought.

As they moved along, the Gundam pilot saw that the basic security layout hadn't changed that much; there was still the same basic setup of keypads by the doors and cameras placed at regular intervals.

It was because of that simple layout that Heero immediately noticed something out of place as they continued onward; a single door on the left side of the hallway, larger than the others, with not only a security guard posted in front of it, but a much more complex entry system. From what he was able to tell as they passed by it, the layout consisted of a card reader, a palm scanner, and a retina scanner. For a moment Heero thought that the room they would be meeting the top brass in was through there, but to his surprise-and heightening suspicion- they went right past it.

What's in there?, he thought. As they continued walking, Heero noticed something else as well; the hallway, which he had originally thought was straight, actually had a slight curve to it. Doing some quick mental math, he calculated that, if it continued far enough to form a complete circle, it would encompass an area roughly a full kilometer in diameter.

After awhile they passed another door with the exact same layout as the one Heero had seen earlier, security guard included. It too was on the left side of the hallway, which he knew now was the inner portion of the circle. I was right, he thought, this hallway does run in a circle, and whatever's on the inside is something they don't want just anyone to find. There were normal doors along that side of the hall as well, but Heero was willing to bet that whatever rooms lay beyond them were not very large and that they weren't connected to whatever the Alliance was trying to conceal.

About ten minutes after they had left the elevator, the group came to a stop before a door on the right side of the corridor. The leader of their escort stepped forward and pressed a button on the keypad next to it. "Sirs," he said, talking into a small intercom, "Captain Ramius and her subordinates are here."

"Very well," said a gruff male voice from the other end, "let them in."

"Yes, sir," he said. He quickly keyed in a combination on the pad and then stepped aside along with the other three members of the escort. "Go on in, Captain Ramius."

Murrue nodded, and together with Heero and Natarle entered the room. Heero stepped back slightly in order to be next to Murrue rather than slightly out in front; it wouldn't look good to her superiors if it appeared that she was allowing someone like him to lead her. He looked over at her and did his best to give her a reassuring smile. Murrue nodded and smiled in return, gratitude clear in her expression. Then they looked forward as the door closed behind them.

They had entered a spacious conference room. The lighting was dim, with most of it emanating from a massive screen on the far wall that was currently displaying the logo of OMNI Enforcer. In front of it was a large rectangular table, behind which sat the four members of the Atlantic Federation High Command; Admiral Sutherland, Vice-Admiral Vickers, and Rear-Admirals Bernard and Thompson. Heero had found profiles on all four men within the Alliance files he'd browsed, and knew that they all had extensive-and controversial, in his view-service records.

"Come forward, Captain Ramius," said Sutherland, "You two as well, Lieutenant Badgiruel and Heero Yuy."

The three of them did so until the Admiral held up his hand. They were standing roughly three meters away from the table. The image on the screen shifted from the OMNI logo to a map of the Mediterranean theatre of the war. Murrue and Natarle both saluted, while Heero simply folded his arms, evaluating the Alliance top brass. They all had the look of battle hardened veterans, but… he was also getting another feeling from them. It was difficult to pin down, but there seemed to be a hostile undercurrent to it. Heero's senses were already on edge, and the way the High Command was looking at them now did not improve matters; it was as if they were looking at no more than pawns, rather than human beings.

I don't like this, he thought, not one damn bit.

If any of the senior officers were irked at his refusal to salute or show any kind of deference, they didn't show it. "At ease, all of you. We've reviewed the reports you and Lieutenant Badgiruel have submitted," the Admiral said, "and there are several matters that need to be addressed in this debriefing. We will start with your landing in North Africa and go from there. Understood?"

"Yes, Admiral," said Murrue.

"Good," he said.

"You landed in severe weather conditions," said Bernard, "I believe the sand storm lasted for nearly three days."

Murrue nodded. "Yes. It was thanks to that storm that we were able to take time to get our bearings and plot our next course of action."

"Which was to break out to the east," said Vickers, "Understandable, considering the circumstances, though still no easy task."

"When the storm subsided, you were engaged in your first battle with ZAFT's ground forces," said Thompson, "Your performance in that fight was sound, as was that of the rest of your crew… though we did note the difficulties the Strike had in adapting to the desert."

"Only at first," said Murrue, "Ensign Yamato was able to adapt the Strike's Operating System during the fight, and managed to defeat the BuCues he was facing."

"According to Lieutenant Badgiruel," said Sutherland, "the Coordinator was… impudent prior to launching. He demanded to be allowed to launch into the fight immediately, and save for a verbal reprimand you took no other punitive action. Why?"

Heero's eyes narrowed at Sutherland's word choice. 'The Coordinator'… why not say his name? A thought occurred to him. Does he not consider Kira to be human? Is he prejudiced against Coordinators? It was certainly possible, and Heero had to wonder if that prejudice was shared by other members of the High Command. It would certainly explain the attack on Junius Seven. I wonder if any of them have connections to Blue Cosmos… I didn't see any evidence in the files, but considering their positions, it would be all too easy for them to edit their service records to conceal something like that.

He also didn't like that they were calling out Murrue so early in the proceedings, and over something so small. Yes, Kira was hotheaded at the start of that fight, he thought, but he performed well once he adjusted the Strike's OS. Besides, Murrue's call to let him launch then was prudent, especially in light of how fast Waltfeld's ground forces came up on us.

Heero looked over at the woman whom he felt so strongly towards, and was relieved to see that her face was completely calm; not a single trace of stress was on it. She'll be fine, Heero told himself, Murrue's strong, and she knew this wouldn't be easy. Just be ready to back her up if they go too far.

Her head didn't move, but Heero saw Murrue's eyes briefly glance over at him, and he could see the confidence within them, along with gratitude for his presence. The Gundam pilot gave her the slightest of nods. I've got your back, Murrue. You can do this.

He saw Murrue give the top brass her full attention as she replied. "Under the circumstances, I had more pressing concerns than Ensign Yamato's attitude. Waltfeld's forces had already launched their first attack, and it was vital to get all our pilots launched before his units closed in. Launching the Strike at that point was crucial to repelling ZAFT's BuCues; had I held him back, they could've dealt considerable damage to the Archangel."

The senior officers glanced at each other, and they seemed to be surprised. They've underestimated her, thought Heero, resisting the temptation to smirk, Serves them right. Give em hell, Murrue.

Sutherland nodded. "Very well, we will drop the matter, considering the circumstances. As we said before, your battle performance was good; forcing the Valkyrie Team and the Desert Tiger to withdraw was no small feat."

"Thank you, Admiral," she said, "Though we would have been unable to accomplish it without Heero Yuy."

All four men at the table looked over at the Gundam pilot. For his part, Heero looked over at Murrue and nodded before turning back to face High Command. He once again put up his front of indifference; arms folded, eyes staring straight ahead.

"Yes," said Bernard after a moment, "we're aware of Yuy's role in the battle, along with the rest of your campaign in North Africa. You did well, young man… though it would've been better if you'd eliminated the Valkyrie Team."

"It was enough to force them to withdraw," he replied, eyes narrowing, "How I deal with my enemies on the battlefield is my prerogative; you don't get a say in it."

The dark skinned man, along with the rest of the senior officers, were taken aback by his blatant show of defiance. It suddenly dawned on them that they would not be able to dominate the proceedings as easily as they'd first imagined. You've sat on your perches while thousands die, Heero thought, It's time someone rattled your cage.

He was surprised to hear Murrue speak up. "With all due respect, Admiral, Heero's point is valid; he's an independent fighter, and therefore outside our chain of command. Is it not enough that he's protected the Archangel throughout its voyage?"

Sutherland nodded. "True, Captain Ramius, but that does not mean he should be allowed to do as he pleases." He glared at Heero. "I'm aware of your piloting skills, young man, but disrupting discipline within the Alliance will not be tolerated."

"I've done no such thing," Heero retorted, "I've fought on the Archangel's behalf without interfering with the chain of command, as I'm sure Captain Ramius indicated in her report."

The Supreme Commander of the Atlantic Federation armed forces fidgeted slightly, clearly unused to being challenged so openly and fearlessly. After a moment he was able to respond. "Yes, Captain Ramius did state as much in her report. Very well, let's move on."

"After the battle," said Vice-Admiral Vickers, "You made contact with members of the Desert Dawn, a local resistance movement. Captain Ramius, were you aware that some of these rebels had also incited acts of defiance against the Earth Alliance during our own occupation of the area?"

"I was aware of the possibility that some of them may have been involved," she replied, "but we needed their help in order to fight the Desert Tiger and his forces. We were behind enemy lines, and I could not afford to be picky in choosing my allies, especially in light of our supply situation."

"Which brings us to our next point of contention," said Rear-Admiral Thompson, "In order to resupply your ship, you enlisted the aid of the rebels' black market arms sources. This was a blatant violation of Atlantic Federation Service Regulation R45.7; we do not deal with gun runners, especially when their stores include supplies and equipment stolen from the Alliance!"

Heero was about to answer for her, but he saw Murrue's eyes narrow, and he knew that her resolve to defend her actions had not wavered. She remained strong, and responded to Thompson's accusations without hesitation.

"I was well aware of that, Rear-Admiral," she said, "However, it was imperative that we resupplied the Archangel in preparation for both our next encounter with the forces of the Desert Tiger and our journey to Alaska. I chose to violate regulations in order to insure that we had a fighting chance at getting out of North Africa alive and accomplishing our mission. To that end I believe my performance speaks for itself, and that the results were well worth breaking the rules regarding contact with black marketers."

Admiral Sutherland sighed. "Yes, and that same point was made in your XO's report. No charges will be filed, Captain, though you are advised to find alternative means to accomplish your mission should you find yourself in a similar situation in the future."

Murrue nodded. "Understood, Admiral."

At the same time, Heero glanced over at Lieutenant Badgiruel. Dealing with war profiteers was a major point of contention for her, he thought, I wasn't expecting her help defend Murrue's decision to do that. I guess she really did lighten up a bit during our trip from North Africa to here. I wonder what caused it…

He filed that thought away for later as Sutherland spoke again. "Another matter that must be dealt with is allowing civilians access to the Skygrasper simulator, as well as permitting one to pilot one of said fighters. Captain Ramius, your response?"

"Sir," she said, "at the time, Lieutenant Commander La Flaga was our only qualified pilot for the Skygraspers, and I felt that having both of them in the air would increase our chances for survival for the coming battle with ZAFT's North Africa Corps. It was to that end that I opened the simulator to the rebels, and the one that showed the most promise was allowed to pilot the second Skygrasper."

"I helped evaluate the pilots," said Heero, surprising the top brass, "Captain Ramius and I both felt that Cagalli was the best of all the candidates, and the Captain's decision to let her fly the second fighter was made with my input."

He looked over at Murrue, and she gave him a slight nod as a show of gratitude. I played as much a role in Cagalli piloting Skygrasper Two as you did, Murrue, he thought, I'm not going to let you take the blame for that alone.

"I see," said Sutherland, "Captain Ramius, while your circumstances would understandably lead you to use unconventional methods to find a pilot for Skygrasper Two, was it really necessary for an independent fighter such as Yuy to have such influence over your decision?"

Murrue nodded. "I believe it was. Heero has proven himself time and again to be an exceptional pilot; therefore it was natural that I sought his input when deciding on who should be allowed to fly the second fighter."

"You also have the Hawk of Endymion on your ship," said Bernard, "Why was Lieutenant Commander La Flaga not consulted instead?"

"The Lieutenant Commander is a very skilled pilot," replied Murrue, "but not even he was able to fight the Valkyrie Team. Heero is the only pilot in all the Earth Sphere who has been able to take them on and not only survive, but win. Therefore, though not to disparage La Flaga's own considerable abilities, Heero's opinion on the matter carried greater weight to me, which was why I consulted with him."

Sutherland sighed. "Your reasoning was sound, although I still take issue with it; an Alliance pilot should've been your only source of input. An independent fighter has no place in influencing a Captain's decisions."

Heero was surprised to see Murrue was actually glaring at the Admiral. She's getting angry, he realized, She's keeping it beneath the surface for the most part… but they've definitely pissed her off. At the same time, while he knew it was important for her to keep a cool head, Heero actually appreciated Murrue's ire on his behalf; no one else had ever acted like that for him.

"I disagree, Admiral," she said, her voice still calm and in control, "Heero had already proven himself by that point to be not only a skilled pilot, but an exceptionally intelligent and insightful soldier. Seeking his counsel was natural, and I'm very glad I did; his input and suggestions were vital not just in North Africa, but throughout our journey."

"Including your strategy for your second engagement with ZAFT's North Africa Corps," said Vickers, "Both you and Lieutenant Badgiruel described in great detail Yuy's role in that battle, both in planning and execution."

"There was no other way we could've won," Murrue replied, "The forces gathered by Waltfeld were overwhelming, both on the ground and in the air. Any conventional tactics would've resulted in our destruction; Heero's plan was the only reason we were able to triumph."

"Yes, as your post action reports indicated," said Sutherland, "I suppose an exception can be made under these circumstances, though it will still remained noted on your service record."

"I have no issue with that," she said, and Heero detected the slightest of smiles on her face, too small for the top brass to detect but one he could pick up. He returned it, knowing that it had been meant for him alone.

The four men behind the table looked at each other, clearly taken aback by how at ease the Captain was with their decision. After a moment Admiral Sutherland cleared his throat and spoke. "That will be all for your actions in North Africa, Captain Ramius. Let us move on to the next leg of your journey."

The image on the screen behind them changed, becoming a map of not only the Indian Ocean, but also the Oceania Region, including the Orb Union.

"The trip across the Indian Ocean," said Rear-Admiral Thompson, "Was for the most part uneventful, save for two battles; one at roughly the halfway point, and the other at Orb's border."

"Regarding the first engagement," continued Thompson, "The civilian girl, Cagalli, was once again piloting Skygrasper Two. I understand that you agreed to drop both her and her bodyguard off in Orb, but was it really necessary to allow her to pilot the fighter again?"

"Yes," said Murrue, "At the time, we still had no other qualified pilots for the second plane, though one of our crew members had begun training in the simulator. However, he would not be combat ready until after our layover in Orb."

"We are aware of Crewman Tolle Koenig's decision to begin training to pilot the second fighter," said Rear-Admiral Bernard, "We'll come to that later on."

"Understood, Rear-Admiral," said Murrue, "At the time, it was necessary to allow Cagalli to pilot Skygrasper Two in light of the need to quickly locate and destroy the enemy carriers while Heero contended with their aerial units and Ensign Yamato fought their underwater mobile suits. She flew with Lieutenant Commander La Flaga initially, though they split up soon after the battle began."

"The battle itself is of no particular concern of ours," said Sutherland, "Your vessel and mobile units gave a good accounting for themselves, and even managed to take down ZAFT's latest weapon, the Everest-class Flying Fortress. We'd had no previous intelligence on ZAFT's new carrier until your encounter with it; both of your post action reports were very informative."

"All that being said," chimed in Vickers, "Skygrasper Two was shot down in the battle… while being piloted by the civilian girl."

"Yes," said Murrue, "However, we were able to mount a successful search and rescue operation; Heero retrieved not only Cagalli, but the fighter as well. Skygrasper Two was damaged, but not as bad as we'd first feared, and Chief Murdoch and his crews were able to repair it in short order."

"Just in time for the battle at Orb's borders," said Sutherland, "in which you allowed the girl to pilot the fighter again, despite having been taken down in your previous engagement."

"I had little choice in the matter," said Murrue, "I needed all available units to launch, and Cagalli, despite her earlier mishap, remained a qualified pilot."

"It hardly matters," said Sutherland, "considering what happened next. Not only was the Archangel seriously damaged in the battle, but you entered Orb's territory as a result and allowed them access to sensitive Alliance secrets. The Strike and the Archangel's data, along with the Coordinator and Yuy's expertise… these are grave offenses, Captain Ramius."

"Once again," replied Murrue, still maintaining her composure, "my hands were tied. Orb's leaders were willing to repair the Archangel, but only in exchange for our technical cooperation. They were supposed to have been given the Strike's combat data anyways, as per our agreement with them for the Heliopolis collaboration, so I did little more than honor the Alliance's part of the bargain."

Heero saw Murrue's eyes narrow as she continued. "Also, with all due respect, Heero is not an Alliance soldier, and therefore not a 'secret' that I could give Orb access to. He conducted his own negotiations with Lord Uzumi, as I noted in my report. Heero was perfectly capable of dealing with the Orb leadership himself, and he did so quite successfully."

The Perfect Soldier knew what her underlying message was in her statement; he wasn't the property of the Atlantic Federation, nor was Wing Zero, and that they should stop assuming that he was. Once again she was standing up for him in a way that no one else ever had. While it was true that Heero was more than capable of defending himself from the top brass, he still felt profoundly grateful towards the incredible woman standing next to him.

Murrue, he thought, his lips forming the barest trace of a smile, thank you.

Meanwhile, Sutherland wasted no time in responding to Murrue's argument. "The Heliopolis agreement was rendered void when ZAFT attacked the colony, Captain Ramius. The Strike was to be delivered to Alaska, as you were well aware of; no third party was to have access to it."

"Had I not allowed Orb to have a copy of its data," Murrue retorted, "They would have immediately kicked us out of their territory. Considering the damage the Archangel had suffered during the battle at the border, it is unlikely that we would've survived another assault by ZAFT, even with Heero and Wing Zero on our side. My actions may have violated the orders I was given, but they also saved the ship and everything aboard it, including the Strike for the time being."

"For the time being," Sutherland repeated, "Since the Strike was destroyed in the Marshall Islands a month later, any gains we may have made from your deal making in Orb were rendered meaningless."

"That wasn't her fault," said Heero, "She had no way of knowing at the time she made the deal what would happen a month later. Captain Ramius's actions once again saved her ship and her crew, and are the reason we made it here at all."

The four men sitting behind the table were clearly beginning to grow irritated with the Gundam Pilot, if the twitching of their eyebrows was any indication. Heero didn't give a damn; he wasn't about to stand by and let them make a mockery of all Murrue had accomplished in her desire to protect the people that were serving under her.

He glared at her superiors, an undercurrent of anger flowing in his veins. Outwardly, of course, he gave no sign of it, but within… Heero was seething with indignation. Murrue deserves better than to be ridiculed by the likes of you bastards. There's no way in hell I'm going to stand by and watch that happen!

In the midst of all this, another thing was bothering Heero. All the while the top brass had been conducting their debriefing, the young man's instincts had been increasingly on edge. His hand had continually hovered over his pistol, and Heero realized that he was confronted with an extremely powerful urge to draw his weapon, kill the entire High Command, grab Murrue, and get the hell out of dodge. It wasn't their conduct towards the woman he had fallen in love with that was eliciting those feelings; it was the way the four men were eyeing both her and him, like they were using the proceedings as a means of determining their fates. It felt as if their lives were on the line, and Heero had to make a considerable effort to prevent himself from acting on his instincts.

You self-serving bastards, he thought, starring daggers at the High Command, what the hell are you planning?

He was surprised to hear Lieutenant Badgiruel speak up in support. "Sirs, with all due respect, Yuy is correct. At the time she made the deal, Captain Ramius could not have foreseen what happened in the Marshall Islands. I did make note of that in my critique, sir."

The top brass were clearly miffed, but they were forced to accept Natarle's words. "Yes," said Sutherland, "as XO you did perform your duty to criticize all the Captain's decisions, including those made in Orb. Your comments were clearly stated and to the point on the matter of the Strike's data. Very well, let us move on."

"Orb took a rather surprisingly long time to repair your vessel," said Vickers, "Especially in light of your stopover at Pearl Harbor; the repairs there took only two days as opposed to the month in the Morgenroete facility."

Murrue nodded. "As I pointed out in my report, I believe the Orb government deliberately had the work crews operate at a much slower pace than they normally would have, in order to give Morgenroete more time to work with Ensign Yamato and Heero. Also, the damage we suffered at Orb's border was more severe than the hits we took in the Marshall Islands, though even then it should not have taken a month to make those repairs during our layover."

"Your XO apparently arrived at the same conclusion," said Sutherland, "Now, regarding the battle in the Marshall Islands… the losses suffered, while regrettable, are also understandable in light of the opposition you faced. You did wipe out the two Special Operations teams ZAFT had deployed, and recaptured the Buster as well. It would have been preferable to take all the machines, but the destruction of the Blitz and Aegis will suffice. Only the Duel escaped, according to your report. Crewman Koenig and the Coordinator perished, and the loss of their machines was total, but all in all things could've been much worse."

As Murrue nodded, Heero realized that Sutherland did not seem particularly disturbed by the loss of the Strike. Though he had brought it up while they had talked about what had happened in Orb, the Admiral had apparently been using it only as a means to attack her decision regarding the unit's data. As far as the loss of the machine itself went… Sutherland almost seemed at ease with it.

Heero remembered how, once again, Sutherland had referred to Kira as simply 'the Coordinator', not bothering with even his rank or name. Is the reason he's not bothered, thought Heero, because Kira died? It was a definite possibility, and served only to heighten Heero's suspicions that the man's feelings regarding Coordinators were similar to those held by Blue Cosmos.

"It was bad enough that we lost Crewman Koenig and Ensign Yamato," said Murrue, "Their deaths were a severe shock to everyone on board, and morale took a serious hit. Several members of my crew are close friends of those two, and I know that they still mourn their loss."

"Well," said Bernard, "considering they're still new soldiers, I suppose that is understandable. However, they should have already steeled themselves towards the possibility of losing their friends. The Heliopolis students still strike me as soft."

"That's only natural," Murrue countered, "They haven't been trained as true soldiers; they're simply civilians who got caught up in events beyond their control."

"Captain Ramius is correct," said Natarle, "Without a proper soldier's education, it's only natural that the students would react more emotionally to the death of a comrade. Also, there are no members of the Archangel's crew with proper counselor training, which every warship is supposed to have. It is true that the abruptness of our departure from Heliopolis meant launching without a full crew, but we still should've received a proper psychological counselor during our rendezvous with the 8th fleet."

"Halberton's orders," said Thompson, "were to insure your safe descent; he was under no provision to provide you with additional crew. You would've received the rest of the staff needed by the Archangel upon your arrival here, but the events of the orbital battle changed things considerably."

"Am I to assume that we will be receiving one soon then?" said Murrue, "Now that we have arrived, will the Archangel's remaining crew vacancies be filled?"

"That will be taken care of at a later date," said Sutherland, "Going back to the battle in the Marshall Islands, or more specifically the aftermath, your report states that you requested that Orb conduct a search and rescue operation."

Murrue nodded. "Yes, because we were unable to remain in the area; the ship had taken damage, and we feared a second ZAFT strike force would hit us if we did not move quickly. Otherwise I would've conducted such an operation myself. As it was, Orb agreed to our request, though I've heard no news as to whether or not they were successful."

"They were not," said Bernard, "We received a message from them shortly before your arrival at Pearl Harbor; neither the Coordinator nor Crewman Koenig were found."

Heero saw Murrue nod solemnly, whatever hope she'd held out for Kira now lost. She then looked over at the Gundam pilot, who did his best to offer silent comfort by way of a small nod of his head. It was the only way he could hope to convey what he could not tell her in front of her superiors; It's ok, you did all you could. I'm here for you.

Miraculously, he saw a tiny smile appear on her face, and Heero was greatly relieved; she'd gotten his message, or at least the gist of it.

"I see," she said, "that's unfortunate, but I suppose it's better than knowing nothing."

"Yes," said Sutherland, and Heero detected an undercurrent of dryness and sarcasm in his voice, "the Coordinator's loss, along with the Strike, is a setback, but we must move on. We are grateful that you managed to recapture the Buster, of course; in the end, you did succeed in getting both the Archangel and one of the G-Weapons to Alaska, so we can still consider your mission a success. That is all, Captain."

Murrue blinked in surprise. "That's it?"

"Yes," said Sutherland, "this debriefing is hereby concluded. Thank you for your cooperation, Captain Ramius, Lieutenant Badgiruel… and pilot Yuy. Return to your ship. Due to the busy situation at the moment, new orders will not be immediately forthcoming, so you will be stuck at Alaska for the time being. Also, you and your crew are to remain onboard the Archangel unless specifically instructed otherwise. Understood?"

Murrue nodded, still taken aback at the abruptness at which the debriefing had ended. "Yes Admiral. We'll return to the ship at once."

"Good," he said, "Dismissed."

As they turned to leave the conference room, Heero spared on last look at the top brass. They were apparently busying themselves with an assortment of files on the table in front of him, and did not notice his gaze.

The Perfect Soldier gave them one final glare before he exited the room. I don't know what you're planning, he thought, but I'll try to get answers tonight. Though I can't predict the future, I can say this with certainty; if you try in any way to hurt Murrue…

…I'll kill you all.

….

As the door closed, Sutherland turned to his colleagues. "Well, gentlemen?"

"You were right," said Vickers, "Yuy will be of no help to us, and the same goes for Captain Ramius. We may still have a use for Lieutenant Badgiruel, though."

"Agreed," said Bernard, "Though she did speak out in support of her Captain a few times, Badgiruel's conduct was strictly by the book. That combined with her abilities as an officer will make her a useful pawn."

"What of La Flaga and Allster?" said Thompson, "Do our plans for them remain as they were before?"

Sutherland nodded. "Begin the transfer proceedings, but delay final implementation until we're ready; we'll take them out with the last personnel wave."

He turned to the screen behind him, which had reverted to the OMNI Enforcer logo, and smiled. "The Archangel and Wing Zero will be the perfect lure… ZAFT is doomed, and the Coordinator scum along with it."

….

They made their way back to the Archangel in relative silence. Murrue wanted to talk to Heero, but was wary of the soldiers escorting them; it was all too possible that they would report whatever they said to the top brass, and that was the last thing she wanted. She had a feeling that Heero agreed, judging by the knowing look in his eyes whenever he met her gaze.

Murrue smiled at him as they reentered the docks and approached the white warship. She had done so several times over the course of their walk back from the conference room, conveying the same message that she would soon say once they boarded the vessel; thank you, Heero.

The debriefing had not been easy on her; it had certainly been more difficult than the one with Halberton and his staff up in orbit. However, having Heero by her side, constantly speaking up in her defense, doing his best to give her encouraging looks… that had meant the world to her.

Their escort parted ways with them as they approached the gangway. Two more soldiers were standing by the ramp. "Captain Ramius," one said, "Please board immediately, and do not forget that a confinement order is in effect for you and your crew."

How could I forget, she thought, indignation burning in her veins, though she made sure not to let it show, After all we've been through, this is how our superiors treat us. What the hell are we fighting for anymore?

To that question, she had no answer… at least, as far as the Alliance was concerned. On a personal level, Murrue knew exactly what she was fighting for…or rather, who she was fighting for.

She looked over at Heero, who was apparently observing the activity on the dock. For the man I love, she thought, smiling slightly, and the lives of my crew… yes, that is what I'm fighting for.

The Gundam pilot turned to her, giving her a small smile of his own. "Well," he said, "there's no point in hanging around here. Come on, let's grab some food; I'm sure you could use a bite to eat."

She nodded and turned to Natarle. "Lieutenant Badgiruel, consider yourself at liberty until 1800 hours; the bridge is yours then."

Her XO nodded in return and smiled slightly. "Thank you Captain. Also… I'm sorry."

Murrue was puzzled at her apology. "What for, Lieutenant?"

Natarle sighed. "For being so critical in my report. I know you were acting with our best interests at heart, regardless of the regulations you broke. I tried to balance the positive and the negative, but I don't think I did as well on that as I could've."

Murrue shook her head. "Nonsense, Badgiruel. As XO it's one of your duties to criticize my decisions, and based on what happened in there, I'm sure you were fair and balanced. There's no need to apologize. In fact, I'd like to thank you; you did support parts of my decisions in front of the High Command, after all."

It was true, and Murrue had been surprised by just how much Natarle had stuck her neck out for her, especially in light of the friction that had been between them throughout their voyage. Perhaps she was acting out of professional courtesy, thought Murrue, Or… perhaps the time she's been spending with La Flaga has softened her feelings somewhat. In the end, I guess only she can say for sure.

She was slightly amused at Natarle's reaction, which consisted of her looking down at the ground, clearly caught off guard by Murrue's response. "Oh… you're welcome, Captain."

Murrue nodded. "Well, come on, let's head inside. As you said, Heero, there's no point in staying out here anymore."

The three of them headed up the ramp and through the starboard hatch. Once inside, Natarle split off from them; Murrue assumed she was either going to find La Flaga or get some rest. Deciding that it was none of her business either way, she turned to Heero and smiled. "Shall we head to the mess?"

He nodded, but not before a concerned expression came over his face. "Murrue, are you doing alright? That debriefing… well, it can't have been easy on you."

She sighed. "No, it wasn't… but it would've been worse had you not been there."

"I told you I was going to back you up," said Heero, "Although my defiance may have made the top brass more hostile. I might have made things more difficult for you, actually."

Murrue shook her head and put her hand on his shoulder. "No, Heero. Having you by my side, supporting my actions… that made all the difference to me. Thank you so much… I could never have gone through that without you."

Heero gave her a small smile. "You're welcome… but I think you're wrong, Murrue. The strength you have is unlike any I've ever seen before… you would've been fine without my help."

Heero, she thought, if I'm strong, it's only because I have you to support me. She couldn't bring herself to say that, though; his belief in her strength was uplifting in a way that she couldn't begin to describe, and she did not want to tell him he was wrong.

She felt herself blush, and looked down at the floor for a moment. "If you say so…" Then she met his gaze again. "I'm still grateful for all you did back there… it meant the world to me."

He nodded. "No problem, Murrue. Well, shall we get moving?"

"Yes," she replied, "lead on, Heero."

They didn't talk on their way to the mess, but Murrue was fine with that. His very presence was incredibly comforting, and once again she considered herself the luckiest woman in the world to have someone like Heero in her life. He's unlike any other man I've ever met… and it's not just because he's from another world. Heero, your strength, your courage, your cunning, your compassion… I don't know how I went so long without them. You've changed my life in a way I can't find the words to describe, and though we've only know each other a few months, I know that I've already become a better person because of you.

These thoughts and plenty others like them occupied her mind as they went to the mess. When they arrived, they dished up their usual platters-not that they had much of a choice, considering the lack of variety on the menu- and grabbed a table by the window.

They dug into their food for a minute or two before they began talking again. Murrue was the first to break the silence. "I'm glad that's over with. The way the top brass were looking at us… I don't know exactly how to describe it, but I know I didn't like it. Something about that whole thing just felt wrong."

Heero nodded. "I know what you mean. My instincts were on edge the entire time."

That can't be good, thought Murrue, considering just how sharp and developed Heero's senses are, if High Command aroused his suspicions… whatever they have planned for us won't be for our benefit. Still, there was nothing she could do for the moment. After all, she and the rest of her crew were under orders not to leave the ship, and it wasn't like she could just take the Archangel and blast her way out of the Alaska base.

Well, she mused, with Heero on our side, I suppose I could… but that'd be a pointless mutiny. I guess we'll just have to sit tight and wait for new orders to come down the line.

Another matter was bothering her, and she had to get it off her chest. "Did you notice how Sutherland and the others talked about Kira? They just called him 'the Coordinator', like he wasn't even human. After all he did for us, he deserves better than to be treated like that; he died fighting for his friends, for Christ's sake!"

"I know," said Heero, and Murrue realized that he shared her indignation regarding the top brass's conduct, "They barely acknowledged what Kira did for this ship, and the Alliance. Yet they seemed almost relieved that he was dead."

His expression became grim as he looked at her. "Murrue… your superiors are heavily prejudiced against Coordinators. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they were sympathetic to Blue Cosmos, or even secretly members."

It was a dangerous accusation to make, but Murrue had a feeling that he was right. It would certainly explain the attack on Junius Seven, she thought.

She was relieved that no one else was in the mess with them at the moment, but she still lowered her voice all the same. "You may be on to something, Heero, but we have to be careful if we're going to talk about something like this. It isn't exactly safe to go making those kinds of accusations."

He nodded. "I figured as much. Don't worry; I won't bring this up in front of the others. We'll only talk about it when we're alone."

Murrue smiled. "I trust your discretion, Heero… I just want to be safe. After all we've been through… I don't want anything to happen to us now."

He gave her a small smile of his own, and it did quite a bit to reassure her. "I know, Murrue. I feel the same way."

Of course he does, she thought, I've seen firsthand just what lengths he'll go to in order to protect me… and the bond we share.

Once again, Murrue had to smile. In spite of everything that had happened to them over the past few days, along with the cold reception from the High Command, she felt as though she had nothing to fear.

As long as Heero's by my side, as long as we fight together… we'll overcome any obstacle in our path.

After then finished their meals and put their plates away, Murrue turned to Heero. "Well," she said, "care to go to the lounge for awhile? It's not like we have much else to do, considering we can't leave the ship."

Heero nodded and smirked slightly. "Sure, as long as we don't have to drink that sludge the Alliance calls coffee again."

Murrue laughed at that. "Agreed. I've had enough of that crap for one day."

As they went towards the mess exit, Murrue grabbed Heero by the shoulder. He turned to her, eyes widening slightly. "What is it, Murrue?"

She embraced him, and though she could tell she had caught him off guard he quickly returned it, putting his slender yet powerful arms around her.

"Heero," she said softly in his ear, "thank you for today. I know you said I'm strong, but I could not have done that without you by my side."

She felt him tighter his grip on her. "You're welcome, Murrue," he said, "and I'll continue to do all I can to help you."

The two of them parted, both with soft smiles on their faces. "Let's go," said Murrue.

Heero nodded, and as they left the mess Murrue continued to be buoyed by the overwhelming sense of gratitude and affection she felt towards the young man. Still smiling as she walked with him, all the worries that she had had that morning completely fleeing from her mind, Murrue felt invigorated. It was ironic in light of the confinement order she and her crew were under… but she felt free.

….

It was almost midnight as Heero slipped out of his quarters. Clad in a blue and black dry suit that he'd kept in Wing Zero in case he needed to do aquatic work, he stopped briefly in the hallway in front of Murrue's quarters. "I'll be back," he whispered, knowing the sleeping beauty who had captured his heart couldn't hear him, "I promise. I'm sorry I'm doing this behind your back, but I swear I'll tell you everything someday. I just don't want you to get in trouble if I screw up."

He made his way towards the rear outer deck of the Archangel; since it was located between the two upraised stabilizer fins, it was mostly concealed from the cameras he'd spotted amidst the dock, so that was where he'd start his operation from. Heero moved quickly through the corridors of the ship, and with some difficulty; he was wearing the dry suit over one of the bulky orange jump suits favored by the ship's mechanics that he'd swiped earlier that day, and it was a rather uncomfortable fit. Still, it was necessary for the time being.

The corridors were deserted, which he had been counting on; since they were in the middle of an extremely well protected Alliance base, almost the entire crew was asleep save for a few officers on the bridge, meaning Heero didn't have to worry about running into any of them in the hallways.

Eventually he reached the hatch for the rear outer deck. Opening it, he sidled along the wall in order to minimize his profile. As the door shut, he made one last visual sweep of the area, reconfirming the position of the cameras he'd spotted earlier that day and checking for any that he'd missed.

After making sure he was out of sight, he went over to the railing at the far end of the deck and climbed over it. From there he made his way out to the very edge of the hull, took a deep breath to steady himself…

…and dove off the ship.

Having checked the Archangel's sensor logs earlier, he knew that the water was deep enough for him to dive into from that height, but he still felt a small thrill of fear go up his spine as he plunged down. However, there was also the excitement that came with putting his life on the line, the rush that accompanied every instance of walking the razor's edge between life and death. Heero wasn't an adrenaline junky… but he still could not deny that he had missed this familiar surge of adrenaline during that first month of peace after the end of the Eve Wars.

He made sure his profile was a narrow as possible as he hit the water, moving to level out immediately after he was below the surface. The dry suit insulated him from the worst of the water's biting chill, but his face, hands, and feet were exposed, and were assaulted mercilessly by the cold.

Driven by adrenaline and the urgent need to get out of the water before he could no longer feel his hands and feet, Heero swam with speed that would impress an Olympic athlete. He stayed underwater just long enough to get to the ladder he had seen earlier in the day; they were spaced out even along the dock both for maintenance crews who needed to work on the lower hulls of ships and for people who'd had the misfortune of falling into the drink.

Grabbing onto the rungs of the submerged portion of the ladder, Heero made his way up until his head slowly breached the surface. This was the part that he'd been the most worried about, as he was quite vulnerable in this position, but even as late as it was the docks were still bustling with activity as crews moved to load supplies into the subs berthed in the massive facility. In fact, a new one was entering the dock at that moment, providing an additional distraction that the Gundam pilot took full advantage of.

Climbing up the ladder until his head was at the edge of the concrete dock, Heero glanced around until he found what he was looking for; a large stack of supply crates not too far from his location. Pulling himself up the rest of the way, he made a break for his temporary cover.

Ducking behind the steel containers, Heero quickly unzipped his wetsuit, revealing the orange mechanic's jumpsuit underneath. Glancing down at the soaking boots that he'd been unable to cover with the dry suit, he grimaced, knowing that they would hold the freezing water for awhile. This sucks, he thought, oh well, at least there's no risk of frostbite. I'll just have to deal with it for now. The dry suit had served its main purpose well; it had kept the jumpsuit and everything in its pockets completely dry, along with Heero himself, save for his head, hands, and feet.

Reaching into one of the larger pockets on the jumpsuit, he pulled out a crumpled green hat, the same kind favored by the maintenance crews, and put it on. Sliding the dry suit in a gap between two of the crates, he hoped that no one would move them while he was away. The arrival of a new transport sub would in all likelihood keep them occupied for awhile, and the crates he had chosen as cover were most likely meant to be loaded onto the Archangel the following day. Still, Heero couldn't deny the element of chance that was involved, and knew he'd just have to put up with it.

Sparing one last glance at where he'd hidden his dry suit, Heero adjusted the cap so that the front bill was low and covering as much of his upper face as it could without looking suspicious or obscuring his vision. Here goes nothing, he thought as he stepped out from behind the crates and started walking along the dock.

Heero knew from past experience that, more than anything else, it was confidence that sold a good disguise; if someone acted like they belonged somewhere even when they didn't, people that did belong were more likely to accept them than someone who may have had all the right trappings but the wrong attitude. All the time he'd spent waging his guerrilla war against the U.E.S.A. and OZ had honed not only Heero's conventional combat abilities but his infiltration and sabotage skills to a level that would make the world's greatest covert operatives seem like rank amateurs.

That was why, as he intermingled with the other dock workers as they went about their business, no one looked at him with suspicion, or even gave him a second glance for that matter. To them, he was just another mechanic off to whatever his next assignment was. Safe for the moment in the crowds, Heero turned his attention from the security guards and cameras to the crates that were scattered throughout the area. Each crate had a black serial number printed near the bottom right hand quarter, and while someone unfamiliar with the system would be unable to make heads or tails of it, Heero had studied up that evening after he had said goodnight to Murrue, roughly three hours before he had slipped out of his quarters.

All the numbers themselves were unique, but next to each would be a capitol letter. An 'A' stood for ammunition, 'R' indicated rations, 'F' was for firearms, and so on. Scanning the stacks as he retraced the route he, Murrue, and Natarle had been escorted along earlier that day, Heero saw that the vast majority of the items being shipped out consisted of food, water, small-arms, and electronic equipment. The last one struck him as particularly odd; even if they weren't out and out gutting the base of its vital electrical gear, if the amount he saw on the docks was any indication there certainly wouldn't be any spare parts available, which seemed to be what they were taking out.

An installation this size, he thought, counts on its backup stores of electronic equipment; the sheer scale of the place means there's so much more that can go wrong than at a smaller facility. Without a large amount of spare parts and equipment, the amount of problems a place like this experiences daily would multiply exponentially. Of course, I don't know just how extensive their stores of electrical gear are; maybe they can afford to transfer this much material.

He filed the matter away for later consideration as he approached one of the large doors towards the far end of the dock. Touching the same key their escort had before, he stepped back as the door slid open. There wasn't as much foot or vehicle traffic as there had been earlier that day, but there were still people milling about in the corridor, on their way to attend to whatever tasks they had been assigned to. A base this size, he mused, is pretty much a city; it never truly sleeps.

Reaching the same door their escort had taken them through before, Heero entered it and went down the hallway. It was here that his path diverted from the one he and Murrue had travelled before though; as soon as he found an office area that appeared to be designated for low ranking paper pushers he entered it. Like some that he had seen earlier, it consisted of little more than several rows of tables with computers on them. Only a few were occupied at the moment, and their users didn't even spare him a glance.

Sitting down at one near the back of the room, he powered on the machine and waited as it went through its startup sequence. As soon it was ready he went to work; within seconds he had hacked his way past the login screen and was in the general access portion of the system. A moment later and he had found the first item he'd been looking for; a general map of the base. Naturally, such a map wouldn't show the classified areas, or at least it would have them relabeled, but it was the starting point he needed.

As he studied the layout of the floor he was on, his earlier suspicions that this was the general administrative area of the base were confirmed; there were offices designated for personnel of all branches of the Atlantic Federation's armed forces, along with liaisons from allied nations, intelligence services, managers for the docks, and other departments. Scrolling through the map, he quickly found the room he was in, which was labeled as one of many 'general information facilities'; in other words, rooms where people could go to look up something they needed on the base's computer network, provided it wasn't top secret material, of course.

Lucky me, he mused; he hadn't known the exact function of the room he'd walked into, and knew he could be taking a risk by just going right in and using one of the computers. Satisfied that no one would disturb him for the moment, he left the current page he was on and went through other floor plans until he found the ones he was looking for; a layout of the floor the debriefing had taken place on.

He didn't care about the room where the debriefing itself had occurred though; what was on Heero's mind was if his suspicions regarding the floor layout was true. Zooming out the image, he realized that they were; the corridor they had travelled did indeed run in a complete circle, though the diameter was closer to 820 meters than 800. As for what lay within the center of the circle, it was labeled as a 'Priority One Storage Facility'.

Yeah, right, he thought, with the security setup those doors had, the only things they'd be storing in there are nuclear missiles… and since none of the cargo hauler corridors on the map lead down to this section, and the floors built over it mean there's no access from above, that's clearly not the case. It's possible there's access ways that come up beneath it, but even then I don't think they'd be storing nukes there; no point since they couldn't be easily launched from there, though with the prevalence of N-jammers I suppose that might change conventional wisdom. Still, even if they're useless, they would want their nukes to be easily accessible, and any underground supply routes would come up well away from both the docks and the airfield, the most secure locations for transferring the weapons. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the massive lie written on the map. What's in there? Whatever lay inside that massive circle could not be anything good; in fact, his instincts were telling him to blast it with the Twin Buster Rifle at maximum power.

Damn, he thought, I have way more questions than answers. Time to fix that. Minimizing the maps for the moment, he opened up a separate window and began blasting his way through the classification system, determined to hack his way to the bottom of the mystery.

He got through the first three layers of the classification system with little effort, but as he proceeded to the fourth the levels of encryption suddenly skyrocketed, and it took him a good five minute to get through the firewalls. The fifth took twice that time, and he was completely stonewalled at the sixth; he pulled out every trick Doctor J had taught him, but he couldn't break through the final layer, and eventually he had to pull back before he wound up raising any system red flags.

He sighed. Well, that settles it; they've got something nasty in there. Unfortunately, he was out of options as to figuring out what that something was for now; he couldn't break the final firewall layers, and the physical security system the doors used required specific biological data, which he could not fake. No disguise would do him any good either. In short, he wasn't getting in there… and it pissed him off, though he kept his anger from showing on his face.

Renewing his focus, he turned back to the maps that he'd minimized earlier; he couldn't directly access the Alliance's dirty secret, but there might be another way to figure out what they were hiding. After a moment he found what he was looking for; the communications hub.

In order to minimize clutter and maximize data storage space, most military communications networks were typically maintained separately from the general one used for information search and retrieval, though there was overlap from time to time. This way communication logs containing sensitive material could not be accessed by just anyone, and key staff members were assigned to control access. The servers had enough capacity to store years worth of communiqués, and it was in those that Heero hoped to find some answers. It was true that he would have to get around the personnel assigned to monitor them, but he had a way, and it was with his disguise; he'd just have to bluff and pretend he needed to run some network maintenance, and he'd be good to go.

Logging off and shutting down the computer he was at, he quickly left the room and made his way towards a nearby elevator. Entering it and punching in the floor number he needed, he leaned against the wall and waited for the lift to arrive at his destination.

A few seconds later the elevator stopped on the floor he needed, and as he walked out he saw that there were only a few people wandering about. They probably don't get as much activity at night as they do during the day, he thought as he headed for the central hub.

As he approached the room he needed, he smirked as he saw that the only security precaution outside was a simple keypad. This'll be easier than I thought, he mused, I thought for sure I'd have to deal with at least a door guard first.

There was a camera above and to the left of the door, but its placement was no problem to Heero since the keypad was on the right. Turning to the keypad, he stood so that his body obscured the camera's view of the device, then he pulled his combat knife out of one of his pockets and pried off a small panel next to the keys. Sure enough, the wiring was right behind it, and within seconds he'd hotwired the door. Slipping the panel back on as the door slid open, he then put the knife away and calmly walked in. He wasn't worried about his behavior raising any red flags; as far as the camera outside had been concerned, he was just a maintenance worker who had taken a little longer than usual to remember his password.

The primary communications hub looked much like the famous NASA mission control, though on a larger scale; rows of computers facing a large screen at the far end of the room, in this case one divided into two sections. The one on the right displayed a map of the Atlantic Federation, while the one on the left showed the entire Earth Sphere.

There was an officer standing near the door as Heero walked in, and the Gundam pilot assumed that his purpose was to check each person who entered. However, the man simply looked over at Heero and shrugged. "Go ahead," he said. Apparently visits from maintenance personnel were routine occurrences; at the very least, they seemed to occur often enough for the man's guard to be down.

Heero nodded. "Thanks," he said, "this won't take too long; my boss wanted me to come down and run a check on the network connections. I will need access to a console."

"Back row, far right," he said, nodding in the general direction, "Those don't tend to get taken on night shift; less staff on the clock. Also, the chairs at those stations don't adjust properly, and we haven't been allowed to replace them yet. Hope you sit as straight as you stand, because those things don't recline worth shit."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said as headed towards the station the man had mentioned.

He grimaced as he sat down; the man had been right about the reclining abilities of the chairs, and in fact most of them were leaning too far forward. Getting up again and finding one with a slightly better backrest, he once again took a seat and got to work. Just as he had earlier, he easily hacked into the general system. He pulled up the logs and started browsing the ones for the past two months.

The messages were categorized by priority and security, with level One being the lowest and Five the highest. Heero immediately excluded the first three levels from his search, which narrowed down the list considerably. However, he couldn't relax yet; the level Four and Five messages would be heavily encrypted and protected. Heero could only hope that the security measures that went into them were as tough as those he'd encountered in the last level of the main network.

He started by experimenting with the level Four messages, and discovered-much to his relief- that they were quite easy to hack into, especially compared to the monster firewalls he'd encountered in the previous room. This is a good start, he thought, I'll browse these before hitting the level Fives.

After sampling a few of the level Four messages, he determined that what he was looking for wasn't in them. For the most part they detailed Alliance troop and ship movements, which while certainly important information in the general sense was not what he was looking for. He did note an interesting trend though; the Atlantic Federations was transferring an increasing amount of troops and equipment from its northern territory to the south, particularly focusing on Central and South America. That's probably in preparation for Spitbreak, he thought, Hawaii has undergone a similar reinforcing. Still, they're not leaving much to back up the Eurasians with in case things get dicey up here; hell, they've pulled out almost all of Alaska's strategic reserve divisions. That seems awfully shortsighted, especially if Moscow suddenly decides to pull out of their arrangement with the Atlantic Federation.

Deciding that he'd worry about the odd moves latter, Heero removed the level Four messages from the list, leaving only the Fives, which were meant exclusively for the High Command. Now came the moment of truth; if he couldn't break their encryptions, he was stuck.

Picking the latest message, which was dated for roughly four hours ago, he set himself to work. After a couple minutes, he smirked as he finally broke the encryption; it had been tough, but not as bad as he'd thought it would be.

Opening up the message, his eyes narrowed as he began reading the contents. It was short, and the language was vague and cryptic, probably as a precaution taken by the writer.

"The children are making remarkable progress," it read, "They've performed beyond expectations in all exercises. They will be able to take the reins of the new steeds." It was signed Muruta Azrael.

I've read that name before, thought Heero, He was mentioned briefly in the Alliance files I downloaded. He's a big player in the Atlantic Federation's arms industry. Other than that, though, there had not been much information about him. One of the files had noted a rumor about supposed ties to the anti-Coordinator organization Blue Cosmos, but other than the mention of said rumor there was nothing else.

The Perfect Soldier's suspicions further increased. I can see why someone like him would have contact with the top brass… but why would they give a civilian level Five message privileges and access? Is what he's working on that important?

Knowing he would have to wrap things up soon before the guard got suspicious, he browsed through the other messages as quickly as he could. All of them were similarly worded, and in the end, only one stood out as possibly referring to the information he sought, dated about two days ago.

"Make sure the Sword under the Earth is ready," it said, "The hour of reckoning approaches, and it must be prepared to slay the Demons." Again, the message was from Azrael.

The 'Sword under the Earth' bit, he thought, that could be referring to whatever's underneath this base… and 'Demons' is probably code for Coordinators. So it's a weapon, then… but what kind? How does it work? More importantly, how are they going to get it to the battlefield? The area it takes up beneath the base is immense, so unless they have some gigantic tunnel that runs beneath it, it's not going anywhere. Then again, the singular tense of the word 'Sword' might be misdirection in case someone like me manages to break the encryption, and there could be multiple weapons in that space. It certainly makes more sense, and the excavation required for several smaller tunnels rather than one on the scale needed to move something the size of that area would be much more cost effective.

There was something else that bothered Heero about that message; the tone taken by the writer was one of command, in a message from a civilian to the top officers of the Atlantic Federation military. Does he really have that much influence? Or is there more here than meets the eye? Once again the rumored Blue Cosmos connection came to Heero's mind, along with his suspicions of the Atlantic Federation High Command. It would certainly explain a few things.

In the end, though, Heero just had no way to know for sure what dark secret lay at the heart of the Alaska base, and he was not happy about that. He wasn't used to hitting dead ends like this, and while outwardly he kept his composure, on the inside he was seething with frustration and ever mounting suspicion. Once again, his feelings were screaming at him that something was wrong, but he did not know what. While Heero believed in acting on his emotions, he also knew that there were practical limitations to doing so, and in this case the actions he wanted to take would make Murrue a traitor in the eyes of her countrymen, and he wasn't prepared to do that unless there was a very good reason for it.

I'll just have to keep my eyes open, he thought as he logged out of the system and shut down the console, for now, it's all I can really do. Standing up, he made his way out of the communications hub, the security officer not even sparing him a glance as he did so.

Retracing his steps, he quickened his pace as he headed back towards the dock. He'd done all he could; now it was time to get back inside the Archangel before something went wrong.

Fortunately, he made it back up to the dock without incident, and the work crews were for the most part preoccupied with loading crates onto the transport sub that had arrived earlier that evening. Walking with the same confidence that he'd displayed throughout his infiltration, he headed towards the stack of shipping containers by the Archangel, which he was relieved to see had not been moved during his absence.

Ducking behind the stack, he pulled the dry suit out of its hiding spot. Before putting it on though, he reached into one of the larger pockets of the orange jumpsuit and pulled out a magnetic grappling gun; he'd need it to get back aboard the Archangel. The gun was sealed against water, so he wouldn't have to worry about damaging it when he went into the drink.

After he'd put his hat back in one of his larger pockets, put on the dry suit, and made sure the dock crews' attention was elsewhere, he made a break for the edge of the dock and dove into the water. Swimming under the surface until he came towards the rear of the ship, he slowly resurfaced, making sure that the vessel was blocking the view of any security cameras. Confident that he would be unobserved, he took careful aim with the grappling gun and fired. The magnetic dart hit dead on; it stuck to the inside of the portside vertical stabilizer fin. Making sure the line was taut, Heero pulled the trigger again, causing the wire to pull him up. It moved extremely quickly; without properly bracing himself, the Perfect Soldier could've dislocated his shoulder. Fortunately, he was well attuned to the devices workings, and only felt a slight amount of pain as he rapidly ascended.

When he'd reached a specific point of his rise, he pulled the trigger one more time, causing the grapple to release from the hull. Heero dropped about eight feet before landing with catlike grace on the section of the hull that ran between the upraised fin that had been his target and the rear outer deck of the ship. Moving as fast as he could in the awkwardly fitting dry suit, once again pulled as snugly as possible over his mechanic's disguise, he leapt over the guardrail and ran to the door. He sighed with relief as he entered the ship, closing the door behind him.

Moving quickly through the corridors, Heero did his best to avoid any crewmembers that might still be up at those hours. Fortunately, as had been the case when he'd begun his solo mission, the halls were empty, with the few soldiers on duty up on the bridge.

When he finally got to his quarters, he once again looked next door at the entrance to Murrue's quarters. He smiled slightly. "I told you I'd be back," he whispered, before turning to enter his room.

Shedding the dry suit, he practically fell onto his bed, not bothering to remove his mechanic's uniform. Though it hadn't been his most strenuous of missions, constantly being on edge as he'd gone behind 'enemy lines', as it were, did wear on him, and he knew he'd have to get up early in order to put the jumpsuit back in the mechanics' locker room before anyone missed it.

For the moment though, he wasn't concerned about that. As he closed his eyes, his last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were of the woman in the room next to his.

Murrue, I swore I'd protect you, and if that means from your superiors as well as ZAFT, so be it. I don't want to make things difficult for you… but if keeping you safe means I have to act against the Alliance, then I'll do exactly that. After all we've been through, there's no way I'm letting anything happen to you now.

I may not be very experienced with matters of the heart… but this much I do know; I'm all but convinced that what I feel for you is love, and I will fight with everything I've got in order to defend you. It's the only way I'll be able to learn if this bond between us can truly become something more… if I'm truly worthy of a relationship with you. I know you care about me, and far more than I deserve after the sins I've committed. All I can do to repay that is keep you safe… and I'll fight the entire Earth Sphere if that's what it takes.

….

Several weeks after the debriefing, Murrue sat in her office. The time since the Archangel's arrival had been extremely dull, with little more for her to do than monitor activities from the bridge and talk with Heero in the mess and lounge. While the latter she certainly didn't mind, all the useless hours of sitting on the bridge had quickly become tedious, and several times she'd had to struggle just to keep from falling asleep from sheer boredom. The only thing that had happened to break the monotony was one of the dock crews loading some supplies onto her ship, but that had been merely to replace the rations they'd already consumed while sitting idle in the base. They'd also received no word concerning the ZAFT pilot in the brig, and Murrue had to wonder if the top brass had in fact forgotten about the prisoner altogether.

There had been a perk to the lack of activity though, besides the obvious benefit of not being shot at; with all the free time they had available, Heero had begun showing her images on his laptop of not only the Gundams of Operation Meteor and their upgraded forms, but of things from his world in general. Conventional mobile suits, space colony designs, the schematics of the mammoth battleship Libra… he'd shown her all that and much more.

As stunning as seeing those pictures had been, Heero managed to top them with something she'd wanted to see since North Africa; images of the people he'd met during the course of his war. There were the other Gundam pilots, Zechs Marquise, Relena Peacecraft, Treize Kushrenada, and many others. Heero had not only shown her what they looked like, but had also described to the best of his abilities their personalities, their reasons for fighting… what made them who they were. It was an incredible experience, and Murrue had lost track of how many times she'd thanked Heero for revealing so much to her. For his part, the amazing young man had simply nodded and smiled slightly before continuing on to the next part of his presentation.

The time she spent with him seemed to go by all too quickly… while her time on the bridge was an eternity of boredom, even when Heero would join her during her watch. After all, there was only so much the two of them could do to pass the time on her shifts, and she did have keep an eye on the rest of the bridge crew, regardless of whether or not there was anything for them to do.

After what had seemed like forever, the High Command had finally seen fit to contact them… though the message they had sent was not what Murrue had been expecting. It was because of said message that she was in her office now, and she wasn't alone; standing in front of her were Lieutenant Badgiruel, Lieutenant Commander La Flaga, and Crewman Flay Allster. The three of them all had the same shocked expression on their faces, which came as no surprise to Murrue considering the news she had given them.

Natarle was the first to speak up. "A transfer? The three of us?" Even the no-nonsense Lieutenant seemed floored by the announcement.

"Why the hell would they do that?" said La Flaga, more than a little angry, "We're all part of a team here. I mean, I know things aren't perfect, but we all work well together!"

Flay, for her part, was apparently stunned speechless. Murrue really couldn't blame the girl, and even felt sorry for her; of all the students from Heliopolis, Flay'd had the hardest time adjusting to military life, and the Captain knew that other officers would not be so understanding with the girl. More to the point, her only friends in the armed forces were aboard the Archangel; a transfer away from them would only serve to make her feel isolated and alone, regardless of her new post.

Murrue sympathized with all three of her subordinates, but she had to take responsibility and restore order. "Calm down. I don't like it any more than the three of you do, but these are orders from the top; we have no say in the matter."

"Are these orders effective immediately?" asked Natarle.

Murrue shook her head. "Not quite. Lieutenant Commander La Flaga and Crewman Allster will be shipping out to California four days from now. As for you, Lieutenant Badgiruel… you're leaving tomorrow, I'm afraid."

Murrue pulled two files from her desktop and handed one to Natarle and the other to La Flaga. As she did so she gave the former a slightly bittersweet smile. "Though I'm losing your service on the bridge, I should congratulate you… Lieutenant Commander Badgiruel."

The black-haired woman's eyes widened. "I've been promoted?"

Murrue nodded. "Yes, and there's more; you're to be given your own command. The details are not there in the file, but you will be briefed upon arrival."

"Where's she going?" asked La Flaga, a hint of worry in his eyes.

"I'm afraid I don't know the exact details of that either," she replied, "However, considering that she's to be escorted to the mass driver facility at 1200 hours tomorrow, I think it's safe to say her next assignment is in space."

Natarle was speechless, but Murrue did see her look over at the blond fighter pilot, with a look that seemed almost… apologetic. For the Captain, that and La Flaga's concern was all she needed to confirm her suspicions that there were indeed romantic feelings that ran between the two of them, though she doubted that either was aware of the other's attraction.

I'm sorry, you two, she thought, for what little it's worth, I pray that the two of you will meet again. I think you're a good match for each other; hopefully fate shares my sentiments and brings you together someday.

After a moment La Flaga turned to the file he'd been given and opened it up. "Flight instructor?" he said, eyebrows rising as he read the first page, "Well… I didn't see that coming."

"I imagine that the top brass are hoping you can train our newest crop of pilots so they'll be able to fight like you," said Natarle, a slight smile on her face, "Looks like they really recognize your skills."

"I guess," said La Flaga, "To be honest though… I feel kinda bad about this new post. I'll be back in the homeland while you guys are risking your necks out on the front lines… not exactly something I like."

"Well, I'm afraid it can't be helped," said Murrue, "Maybe they'll send you back our way eventually… or to whatever ship Lieutenant Commander Badgiruel is put in charge of."

Murrue couldn't help but smile slightly as she saw Natarle blush at her words. It'd be fun to see that little scenario play out, she thought, no doubts there.

"What about me?" asked Flay, finally breaking out of her stupor, "Where am I going?"

Murrue sighed. "I don't know, Miss Allster. However, you are boarding the same transport as La Flaga, so I'm assuming the first part of your journey will be to California as well. From there I don't know what will happen to you. Considering the importance of your late father though, I imagine you will be well looked after."

"But I want to stay here!" she said, "My friends are on this ship… Kira died for the Archangel… I can't just leave!"

Murrue once again felt a surge of pity for the girl as she struggled to accept the sudden change that had been thrust upon her. "I'm sorry, Flay," she said, "but the military doesn't work that way. We go where we're ordered to go; we don't get a say in the matter."

"But Captain," said Flay, "can't you do something about this?"

Murrue gave her a soft smile. "I would if I could, Flay, but these orders are from the High Command… and I don't think my opinion means much to them, so I couldn't change their minds even if I wanted to."

She was surprised to see Natarle put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "The Captain's right," she said, "the moment you volunteered up in orbit, you gave the High Command control over where you go and what you do. It's rough, but that's part of being a soldier." She then smiled slightly. "At least they're not shipping you out alone; La Flaga will be with you until you reach California. I'm sure he'll look after you until someone arrives to take you wherever they want you to go."

The blond pilot smiled. "Count on it. Don't worry, little lady, you'll be alright."

She nodded, though Murrue could tell that, try as they might, La Flaga and Natarle would not be able to completely alleviate Flay's fears. It's only natural, I suppose; of all the Heliopolis students, Flay's the least suited for a soldier's life. I'm still having trouble figuring out why she decided to volunteer in the first place. The best reason I can think of is to avenge her father. It's certainly understandable, but looking at her now… I don't think vengeance is her motivation anymore. Hell, I don't think even she knows why she's in the military now. I'd hope that High Command would discharge her, but in all likelihood they'll find some way to use her; the Allster name has its share of influence within the Atlantic Federation, after all.

Worry as she might, ultimately Murrue knew that there was nothing she could do for the fifteen year old girl, and reluctantly accepted that fact as she moved forward. "That's all I have for the three of you now," she said, "You're dismissed."

….

"Hey," said La Flaga after they left the Captain's office, "You gotta minute?"

Natarle nodded; Captain Ramius had left the room just ahead of them to resume her post on the bridge, and the Lieutenant was on break until early evening. Looking over at La Flaga, she saw a small smile on his face, though it could not entirely hide the worried look in his eyes. That concern, she thought, is that… for me? Could she dare to hope that the dashing pilot did indeed feel something for her that went beyond friendship, and that the fact that they would be going separate ways tomorrow affected him as much as it was affecting her now?

"What is it… Mu?" she asked, her conflicting desire and sense of duty causing her to use his first name.

The ace pilot must've surely caught her change in name usage, but he didn't make any of his usual jokes or laid-back comments. His smile did grow a little though. "Well, first off, congratulations on getting promoted… and your own command! Whatever ship you get, I know you'll be a good leader, and you'll treat your crew well."

She smiled, encouraged by the faith he had in her. At the same time, she vowed to do exactly what he believed she would; take care of her subordinates. Though she still had her disagreements with how Captain Ramius had run the ship, Natarle knew that the crew appreciated how she looked after them, and she wanted to do the same for her new command. I now know how it feels to have a superior who truly cares for my well being, she thought, If I can give my new subordinates that same feeling, and keep them safe… that'll be enough for me. Captain Ramius… thank you; I learned a lot serving under you.

At the same time though, the prospect of no longer serving on the same ship as Mu La Flaga had her… well, to put it bluntly, upset. She did not allow it to show, but inside she was worried about what the separation would do to the connection she had made with the handsome pilot. Would he still care about me… would he even think about me? Natarle knew what California was like in the springtime; even with his duties as a flight instructor taking up much of his time, in all likelihood the dashing officer would be quite popular in the social scene. At the very least, he'd certainly have plenty of women after him, and she wouldn't be around to try and stake a claim.

Her doubts were ever present as she spoke to him. "Thanks, I'll try my best to do that. What else did you want, Mu?"

"Well…" he said, and Natarle was surprised to realize that he actually looked a little nervous; his hand was at the back of his neck, and he was looking off to the side in a manner not dissimilar from what she would do from time to time.

Turning to face her again, he continued. "You see, the thing is… I've really enjoyed getting to know you. Even in the midst of all the fighting, we still got to spend time together… and I'd like to be able to do that again sometime." He smiled at her. "Natarle… can I get your email address? I want to stay in touch, and with you being deployed to space, that'd be the best way to do it. And maybe, depending on your next shore leave, we could see each other again; I'll probably have a lot more off time than you will, but we should be able to work out something."

Natarle felt her face flare up, and thought for a moment that she would faint; here she had been worried about how to keep up the connection she'd made with him, and he was offering her a way to do just that! More importantly, he'd said he'd enjoyed the time they'd spent together… maybe he did feel something for her!

She was practically beaming as she responded. "Yes, of course! I don't have anything to write on, though; mind if I go to my quarters real quick?"

He nodded. "No problem, I'll come with you; now that you mention it, I don't have anything on me either."

"Alright," she said as she turned and headed towards her room. She continued smiling as she walked, her fears subsided for the moment. It was true that there would still be challenges ahead; as long as the war dragged on, the best she'd have a shot at was a long distance relationship… but it would be a start, and she was determined to at least make it to that stage.

I have a shot, she thought, It won't be easy… but there's a chance he likes me too! If he does feel the same way, and this is his way of reaching out, trying to see if we can get something going, then I have to do the same.

One more idea occurred to her as they made their way to her quarters. Now that I've been promoted, we're the same rank. If things stay that way for the time being, then I don't have to worry about the rules regarding fraternization with a senior or junior officer…

It looked like her promotion would have more than the usual benefits. Natarle certainly planned to make the most of them.

….

"Natarle!" said La Flaga, "Wait!"

It was the next day, and the raven-haired beauty was already halfway down the gangway. Mu La Flaga had been inside along with Captain Ramius as they'd said their farewells to her and wished her the best… but the fighter pilot had felt as though a simple 'goodbye' was inadequate, and so he'd decided to temporarily break the confinement order. Hopefully they won't raise a fuss if I don't leave the ramp, he thought. He hadn't wanted to cause trouble for the Captain, but… he felt like he had to do something before Natarle slipped out of his grasp.

The ace pilot had initially been caught off guard by his growing feelings for the no-nonsense Lieutenant… no, Lieutenant Commander now. He hadn't imagined that he'd ever find himself attracted to such a strict and rigid woman… but that had been before he'd gotten to know her and get a glimpse of her softer side. Before long he'd realized that behind the walls of iron discipline was in fact a shy and slightly scared woman who was trying to survive, and he'd wanted to help her do that. More importantly, he wanted to know more about her, get her to open up more… and slowly but surely, over the course of their journey across the world, she had done so.

The dashing officer was no stranger to romance, of course. However, all his prior relationships had really been little more than flings; a few weeks at most, caught up in the heat of the moment before him and whoever his current partner was realized that in the end they just weren't compatible for a long-term commitment.

Natarle was different, though. Granted, he didn't know if he loved her, but there was an attraction that he could not deny, and he had a feeling there was something on her end as well. Asking for her email as a way to keep in touch had been a way to make sure that he'd have a chance to continue to get to know her, to see if there was the right chemistry between them for a long-term relationship. However, that wasn't enough for him; if he wanted to make sure that she didn't forget about him, that she'd keep him in her thoughts, he'd need to act a bit more… rashly.

He smiled as Natarle turned around to face him, her eyes widening slightly. "Mu… what are you doing? You're not supposed to leave the ship!"

It was a fact that he was well aware of, but as he'd rushed out of the hatch Captain Ramius, who had still been standing right by it, hadn't tried to stop him. In fact, the Lieutenant Commander could've sworn he saw her smile and nod slightly as he'd ran past her. Maybe she sees something between me and Natarle, he thought, I wouldn't be surprised; she's very skilled at reading the feelings of others. It's why she's such a good Captain.

He came to a stop in front of her, pausing a moment to catch his breath. As he did so, he saw one of the guards at the bottom of the ramp start to come up, but Natarle stopped him. "It's alright," she said, "This'll just take a moment."

As the soldier went back to his post, she turned back to Mu. "This had better be important, Mu; you could get yourself into a lot of trouble!"

He chuckled at her words. "Hey, I'm a pilot; trouble's what we live for."

She sighed, but still smiled slightly in response. "So I've noticed." Her eyes met his. "Mu… I'm glad you're here, but we need to make this quick; I doubt my escort will wait much longer."

He nodded. "I know. This won't take long. I just… wanted to give you something."

"Oh?" said Natarle, "What is it?"

"This," he said softly, and before he lost his nerve he moved forward and kissed her on the lips.

It only lasted about a second, but as he pulled away he knew he'd made an impression; Natarle's eyes were the widest he'd ever seen them, and there were more than a few shades of pink in her face.

He smiled. "A little something to remember me by. Take care of yourself… and stay in touch."

Natarle nodded, and a soft smile appeared on her face. "I will, but you'd better do the same."

"Count on it," he replied.

"I will," she said, turning to head back down the ramp, "Good luck, Mu… I can't wait to see you again."

He grinned. "Same here, Natarle."

As he headed back towards the ship, he saw the Captain standing in the hatchway smiling. "Ah, great," said Mu, "You saw that?"

She laughed slightly. "Yes. Don't worry, though; it'll stay between us."

He nodded as he entered the ship and she closed the door. "Thanks… and sorry if my little stunt ends up causing you trouble."

Captain Ramius shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Considering the times we live in, it'd be impossible to say when the two of you would see each other again; you had to do that, and I wasn't going to stop you." She sighed. "I need to get back to the bridge. I hope you'll be alright, La Flaga; they say 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', but it can only take so much."

He nodded. "I know, but I'm willing to endure some separation." He then smirked slightly. "You're lucky, Captain; you don't have to worry about that in your case."

Her eyes widened slightly, and she looked like she was about to deny what he was implying, but then she smiled slightly. "I suppose I am. How did you know, La Flaga?"

He smirked. "You're not exactly trying to hide it, Captain. The way you look at him… the others might not see it, but I can; you're in love with him."

The brown-haired woman leaned against the wall. "Yes, I am… it's wrong, I know, considering his age, but…"

"He doesn't act like a sixteen year old boy," Mu finished for her, "Am I right?"

The Captain nodded. "Exactly. After seeing him in action… after getting to know him, learning what he's been through… it's impossible to see him as just another teenage pilot. Mentally, emotionally… Heero's as much an adult as you or I."

"Yeah," said Mu, "that's the same vibe I get from the guy. Strong, smart, and one hell of a pilot… he isn't a kid anymore, that's for sure. "

"You must think the worst of me," said Murrue, looking down at the floor, "I'm ten years older than him… I know how this must look…"

"No, Captain," he said, causing her to look up at him in surprise, "It's true at first that I thought it was odd, but after seeing the two of you work together, and the way you act around each other, I don't think it's wrong at all. The two of you really do care about each other, and the last thing you'd do is take advantage of him." He then smiled. "As long as you two are both willing to see where things go between you, I don't think there's anything wrong with it."

She smiled as well. "Thank you, La Flaga. Although, I'd appreciate it if this could stay between us."

"No problem," he said, grinning, "so long as you do the same for me and Natarle."

Captain Ramius nodded before turning to go. "Deal. I'm going to the bridge now. Stay out of trouble, La Flaga."

"Roger that, ma'am," he replied, "and good luck."

She looked over her shoulder and smiled, knowing that he wasn't referring to her shift on the bridge. "Thanks. You as well, Lieutenant Commander."

Standing by the hatch for a moment, he then made his way towards the hangar. I'd better do some sim runs, he thought, gotta keep my skills sharp, especially if I'm going to be passing them on to the newbies in California.

He smirked as he thought of the conversation he'd just had with the Captain. Heero Yuy, he mused, you're one lucky bastard, having a woman like her in love with you. I know you care for her too… the question is, do you know?

As for me… I think I can consider myself a pretty lucky guy too. True, it'll be quite awhile until I can see the woman I care about again… but she's definitely worth the wait. Take care, Natarle… I'll definitely see you again someday.

….

The sea breeze running through his hair, Creuset smiled from his perch on the observation deck of the Vosgulov-class submarine/carrier Vespucci. Still running on the surface, as were most of the ships of the same class in the fleet at the moment, the Commander's flagship was part of the rear echelon of the massive armada ZAFT had assembled for Operation Spitbreak. As he scanned the horizon, the masked officer saw warships as far as the eye could see; more submarine/carriers, destroyers, surface carriers, troop transports… even to the man that had orchestrated its assemblage, the assault force was nearly breathtaking. DINNs crisscrossed the sky as they conducted their patrols, and were in fact the reason why so many of the Vosgulov-class vessels were on the surface, as they were only able to launch and retrieve their flight-capable mobile suits above water. Naturally, they would retrieve all their units and submerge once the final approach to the target was underway.

A shadow fell over the ship, and as he looked up Creuset gave a mock salute as one of the two gargantuan Everest-class Flying Fortresses attached to the armada, the Fuji, moved into its position in the formation. Ahead in the distance he could see its sister ship, the Kilimanjaro, already in its place at the head of the pack.

The armada was still not completely assembled, but it would be once it rendezvoused with the advance elements that had been dispatched several weeks ago. After that, all it would take was the command from Zala, and the offensive would truly be underway. Even then, the ships and MS of ZAFT's surface navy were not the only units involved in the assault; even now, Creuset knew that elements of the orbital fleet were moving into position to drop forces of their own onto the target, in order to maximize the 'shock and awe' affect that would be so crucial in the opening attack.

"Commander Le Creuset," said a man behind him. As the blond officer turned, the green uniformed soldier saluted before continuing. "Comms has the Supreme Chairman on the line for you."

He nodded. "At ease, soldier. Tell them to transfer it to my office; I'll take it in there."

Taking one last satisfied look at the enormous force of warships and mobile suits arrayed before him, he made his way below deck. Like any submarine, the hallways were quite narrow, even on a boat the size of the Vespucci. Sliding past officers and enlisted men alike, he wound his way through the labyrinth of cramped corridors until he arrived at his office, which also doubled as his quarters. Closing the door behind him, he sat down at his desk and powered on the monitor.

Zala's visage appeared, and Creuset was reminded of a line out of the Iliad; 'The face that launched a thousand ships'. A grand fleet this is, he mused, but Helen of Troy you aren't, Chairman.

The leader of the PLANTs and ZAFT was as arrogant as ever, and grinned as he initiated the conversation. "Ah, Commander. How did the launching go?"

"No incidents to report, sir," he replied, "The combined fleet is underway; we will make our rendezvous with the advance elements tomorrow, and by that evening we will be in position. All it will take is your word, sir, and Spitbreak will begin."

"Excellent," he said, "orbital command is moving its strike force into position now, though it will be three days until all the ships needed will be on site."

"That's still within our timeframe though," said Creuset, "We should be fine holding our position until then, provided the latest batch of Alliance spy satellites were taken care of."

Zala nodded. "The task force Commander in charge of that operation has reported a clean sweep. It will take the Naturals at least a week to have a replacement network ready, by which time it will be too late to make a difference. You're in the clear, Creuset."

He nodded. "Thank you, sir. Just out of curiosity, will any of the new models be joining us for the assault?"

The Supreme Chairman shook his head. "No, we have yet to assign pilots to them. They will be fielded for our march on the Atlantic Federation capital, though."

"I see," said Creuset, "If I may be so bold, sir, I believe your son would be an ideal candidate for one of those machines. Last I heard, he's still at Carpentaria; you've yet to issue new orders for him."

"I wanted to give him time to fully recover," said Zala, "Which he should be nearly so by now. He will be recalled to the PLANTs within the next few days. I was already planning on giving him the Justice, but thank you for your input, my friend."

"Not at all, sir," he replied, "and your choice is an excellent one; I believe the Justice is well suited to his flying style."

"As do I," said Zala, "All the more so after reading his report on the final clash with the Strike; Athrun has an affinity for close-quarters combat." There was more than a hint of pride in his smile.

It seems the son has finally impressed the father, Creuset mused, though he nearly died in the process. Putting the matter aside, he returned his attention to Zala. "Is there anything else, sir?"

"No," said the Supreme Chairman, "that will be all for now."

As Zala disconnected, Creuset began typing on the keyboard. After a moment, the full list of ships and mobile suits in the combined armada appeared on the screen.

I daresay I've outdone myself, he thought with a smirk, though of course, I could not have pulled this off without the oh so willing backing of Zala. Thank you, Supreme Chairman.

The finally tally was beyond anything yet fielded by either side in the war so far. The vessel count alone was staggering: 68 Vosgulov-class submarine/carriers, 97 destroyers, 12 surface carriers with capacity for 12 DINNs each, 16 heavy ground assault transports with 3 BuCues and 3 ZuOOTs in each, 20 assault landing craft to carry the infantry and their light vehicles, and of course the two Everest-class Flying Fortresses with their air wings of 40 DINNS apiece.

When the mobile suit compliments of each ship were combined, the numbers were almost mindboggling: 632 DINNs, 272 amphibious mobile suits (majority GOOhNs with Team Commanders in ZnOs), 48 BuCues, and 48 ZuOOTs. That wasn't all; the space fleet would also be dropping 108 GINNs to support the attack. All in all, over a thousand mobile suits would take part in the assault, the most ever to fight in single battle.

With Schwarze, Grün, and Rot Teams leading the pack, thought Creuset, they should be able to keep even Wing Zero busy. Not exactly an elegant solution to such a problem; any idiot can throw sheer numbers at a foe in the hopes of overwhelming it… oh well.

Shutting down the console and leaning back in his chair, the masked Commander had a cruel grin on his face as he looked up at the ceiling.

At long last, the curtain has fallen upon the first act. Soon, the second act will begin… and it will be a performance unlike any other!

….

High above the Earth, one of ZAFT's ubiquitous Laurasia-class frigates was heading towards its assigned rallying point. The bridge of the green mainline warship was calm on the surface, but no one could deny the aura of tension lying just beneath it. Invisible yet pervasive, everyone felt it in one form or another… and the ship's captain was no exception.

The woman sitting at the center of the bridge narrowed her steely gray eyes as she looked out at the planet below. Her mid-length brown hair was swept forward, framing her face in a manner similar to the wings of a hawk. Her bearing was that of a disciplined but kind woman, one that would do her duty no matter what the cost might be to herself, but would act to spare those serving under her from potentially going down with her.

Talia Gladys, the twenty-seven years old commanding officer of the frigate Natta, turned to the ship's radar operator. "Any sign of activity at the rendezvous point?"

The officer, a young lady in her late teens with jet black hair tied in a ponytail, looked closer at her screen. "Hang on, it's at the very edge of our range. Adjusting scopes… I'm sorry, Captain, we should be in clear range in a few seconds."

She nodded. "Very well. In the meantime, any sign of Alliance satellites the sweeper units may have missed?"

The radar operator shook her head. "No, ma'am, picture is clear. The only blips I'm getting are the occasional bits of space junk. Hang on, I'll give the scopes another shot and see if I can get the rendezvous point in clear view."

After a moment she spoke again. "Captain, I have confirmed contacts at the rendezvous point; six Laurasia-class frigates. Looks like we're about middle of the pack, ma'am."

"Yes," said Talia, "I imagine the rest of the drop fleet will be arriving over the next few days. Are any of the vessels broadcasting a flagship IFF?"

"Yes Captain," said the girl, "The Nobel."

"I see," she replied, "carry on, then."

Talia then turned to the communications officer. "Contact the Nobel and ask for a formation assignment. Give the coordinates they send us to helm."

"Aye, Captain," said the man, quickly carrying out her orders.

Satisfied that the Natta would soon take her place in the drop fleet, Talia turned her attention to the small monitor and keypad on her chair and pulled up the readiness report sent to her by the mobile suit mechanics an hour ago. Currently five of the ship's six GINNs were fully combat capable; the sixth was in the last stages of repair after it had been damaged during a skirmish with two Drake-class escort ships and their mobile armors earlier that week. According to the crew chief, the unit would be fully operational within the next twelve hours.

That's more than enough time to spare, she thought, the operation is still almost three days away. Relieved that that small issue would soon be solved, she turned her attention back to the forward viewport… more specifically, at the blue and green orb filling up the lower half of it.

Talia knew that many of ZAFT's soldiers were brimming with excitement as the launching of Operation Spitbreak drew ever closer, but all she felt was the familiar heaviness in her heart that came whenever a battle was approaching. I know the offensive has been thoroughly planned, she thought, and our disinformation campaign should have convinced the Alliance to reposition their most important combat units… but no strategy ever completely survives contact with the enemy. Regardless of how surprised our foe may be when we finally launch our attack, they will still fight back… and we will still suffer casualties.

Though her ship would not directly be taking part in the fighting, its mobile suit compliment would be on the front lines assaulting fortified positions. The GINN pilots had held their own in small battles throughout their tour of duty, but they had never taken part in a large scale engagement.

It is quite possible, she thought, that I am sending them to their deaths. Of course, that chance has accompanied every engagement we've had… but the odds are distinctly greater for this battle that some of them will die. The target may be weakened by the transfer of some of its defense forces, but it is not unprotected, and a facility of its nature will have plenty of guardians even after a sizeable redeployment.

How many… how many sons and daughters, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers… Naturals and Coordinators… how many will die in the coming battle? How many will die… before this war is finally over?

….

May 8th, C.E. 71

Murrue stood at the Archangel's starboard hatch alongside Heero. In front of them, in the doorway, were Lieutenant Commander La Flaga and Flay Allster. Both of them had bags slung over their shoulders, carrying what little belongings they'd managed to hold onto or acquire over the course of their long journey.

She smiled at them before speaking. "I wish the two of you the best of luck. Hopefully your trip to California will go smoothly."

"Don't worry," said La Flaga, "I'll keep an eye on the little Miss here."

Flay looked down at his words, and Murrue could tell that the transfer still bothered her, though she at least seemed resigned to the fact that she was leaving the ship. "Miss Allster?" said Murrue.

The red-headed girl looked up at the Captain. "Yes, ma'am?" she said.

Murrue gave her a gentle smile. "The Lieutenant Commander will keep you safe for as long as he can. I know the past few months have been difficult for you, but try to cheer up a little, ok? At least where you're going, you won't be caught up in any of the fighting."

The girl nodded. "Ok… thank you, Captain."

"You're welcome, Flay," she replied.

La Flaga turned to Heero and grinned. "I don't suppose I have to tell someone like you to take care, but it never hurts." He held out his hand. "It was fun flying with you, Heero. Stay alive, and keep this ship safe."

The Gundam pilot nodded, and Murrue saw him smirk slightly as he shook the Hawk of Endymion's hand. "Roger that."

Letting go, the fighter pilot gave him and Murrue one last salute. Murrue returned the gesture, and while Heero didn't respond in the same manner, he did nod again at La Flaga. The blond ace then put his arm around Flay and led her out the door. "Come on, missy," he said, "We got a boat to catch."

Watching them go down the ramp, Murrue turned to Heero. "I'm glad Flay's going back to the homeland, but I do wish the Lieutenant Commander was staying; now we have no pilots to back you up."

Heero shook his head. "It's alright, I can handle it. Besides, he'll do well as an instructor; with any luck, having him teach the next crop of pilots will reduce casualties in the long-run."

"You're right," said Murrue, smiling slightly, "I guess I'll just have to step up my own efforts then; if we keep working together, I can cover you quite effectively with the Archangel."

Heero nodded. "With the Zero system I can give you pinpoint targeting data while engaging the enemy at the same time; a potent combo if we use it right."

"Which I'm sure we will," she replied, "After all… we said we'd protect each other, and this is the best way to do it."

"Yeah," he said. His eyes met Murrue's as he spoke again. "I'm grateful for your help, Murrue. I fought alone for so long… it's nice to have someone I can trust backing me up."

"I'm sure it is," said Murrue, "I can't imagine what it must've been like, fighting alone… I won't let you go through that again, Heero. Through hell or high water, I'll always have your back."

"Thanks," he said, smiling slightly, "and I'll keep you safe, no matter what I have to do to accomplish that."

Murrue returned his smile. "I know you will, Heero; I believe in you."

…

As he strode through the corridors of ZAFT HQ, Supreme Chairman Patrick Zala was the picture of a triumphant conqueror. Brimming with confidence and pride, excitement pumping through his veins, he carried himself with an imperious air as he headed towards the primary operations center.

Stepping through the doors and out onto a platform overlooking the vast chamber, with its multitude of officers gathering information and issuing orders from their computer stations, he grinned as he stepped up to the microphone mounted at the edge of the deck.

He looked over at his adjutant, who nodded in confirmation; everything was ready.

At long last, he thought, the time has come!

Clearing his throat, he spoke in the same roaring baritone that had so characterized him on the campaign trail, his sheer force of personality flooding the room and bombarding everyone in it. "As we embark upon this tremendous undertaking, let us not forget that we are acting in the name of freedom and justice! Those who dared to attack our homeland will be defeated once and for all, and be forced to face judgment for the oppression they would've forced upon us, for the atrocities they committed against us. Let providence guide our actions, allow us to bring an end to the war, and usher in a new golden age for our people!"

"Let Operation Spitbreak… now commence!"

….

Sitting in the living room with Lacus and her father, wearing a pair of jeans and a black shirt provided by the latter, Kira was enjoying a cup of tea with his hosts, his wounds almost completely recovered. The atmosphere was peaceful and relaxed, and the young man felt very much at ease.

He was about to once again thank father and daughter alike for their incredible hospitality when the monitor on the coffee table came to life. A brown haired woman was on it, and Kira recognized her as she had visited the Clyne estate a few times over the course of his stay; Eileen Canaver.

"Clyne!" she said, urgency clear in her voice, "Zala's deceived us! Panama isn't the target of Operation Spitbreak. It's…"

….

Looking on as the chamber was engulfed in the tumult of voices scrambling to relay instructions, the Supreme Chairman grinned as his adjutant took the microphone and finished his announcement.

"Operation Spitbreak has begun!" he said.

"The target is JOSHUA, Alaska!"

Preview for next time!

At long last, Operation Spitbreak has been unleashed, and the true target is revealed. Taken by surprise, the Archangel and the forces of the Eurasian Federation scramble to meet the onslaught, but the enemy before them is not their only threat. For the entire battle is in fact a trap, one that even the Perfect Soldier will be hard pressed to fight his way out of. Caught between ZAFT's overwhelming assault and the treachery of the Atlantic Federation High Command, things look bleak for the Archangel... but hope still remains, for in the PLANTs Lacus entrusts Kira with a powerful new weapon. Unlike any other machine in the Cosmic Era, surpassed only by Wing Zero, the new mobile suit gives the reluctant warrior the power to rescue his friends... if he can make it to Alaska on time. Next time, on "Journey to a New Battlefield", Episode Fifteen: Operation Spitbreak.

Cry, "Havoc!", and let loose the dogs of war!

Author's Notes: Well, we're here; the halfway point of the story, give or take a chapter or two! How've I done so far? I'm not trying to sound greedy, but a little feedback on the overall progress along with your thoughts on Episode 14 would be greatly appreciated!

Again, sorry this took so long. Unfortunatly, from here on out the rest of my chapters will probably take around the same period of time to do. Not all will be as long as this one, but the level of detail and complexity greatly increases from this point onwards as the political climate and the tides of war shift throughout the Earth Sphere. New weapons, new battles, new plots and intrigues, new romance... it only gets bigger from here, people! Plus, after all the buildup, I'm going to be hardpressed to make sure that Episode 15 lives up to all the hype you guys (and, admittedly, me), have been giving it!

Thanks for sticking with me. Please review, and until next time, my friends!