Gundam Wing: Destiny's Call

by operation meteor

Sequel to Journey to a New Battlefield. It's been two years since the Bloody Valentine War and tensions are rising. When a shadowy group attacks the colony of Armory One, a certain Gundam pilot takes to the battlefield once again. However, little to his knowledge, some old friends are on a journey to his new world. M for language and violence (again, it's war. What do you expect?)

26. Chapter 26

Author's Notes: Hello there! Apologies for the wait, between indefinite overtime at work and coming a bit under the weather recently I've been a little slammed on my end. No action in this chapter, but that'll be rectified with the one that comes after.

Two songs for this chapter: 'Hooked on a Feeling' by Blue Swede and 'Hidden Truth' from Destiny 2's 'Witch Queen' expansion. You might want to loop the second one when you reach the cue; the scene it plays in is considerably longer than the song itself, but I thought the melody fit really well as a background piece for the whole thing. Well, to each their own.

Enjoy!

Episode Twenty-Six: Diplomacy and Investigation

November 24th, C.E. 73

Murrue was so engrossed in studying the most recent maintenance and repair status updates on her personal monitor that she didn't even notice Heero had come up onto the bridge until she felt a familiar hand fall upon her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her seat before she realized who it was, though she quickly reasserted her composure; it wouldn't do for her crew to see her easily spooked, after all.

"Do I need to put a bell around your neck?" she asked with a smirk as she turned to face him.

For his part, Heero gave her a small smile. "You could try, though I'd just find a way to sabotage it."

It was only now that Murrue noticed that, while Heero's right hand was on her shoulder, his left was behind his back. "What are you hiding back there?"

"A little something that came with the most recent supply shipment from the Eurasians," Heero replied, "Apparently Marshall Baranov has an odd sense of humor."

Heero pulled his left hand out from behind his back, revealing a black fur cap with long flaps on both sides. Emblazoned on the front of the cap was something Murrue hadn't expected to see outside of a museum in Moscow; a crimson star with a gold hammer and sickle crossed through it, wreathed by golden leaf.

Murrue couldn't help but laugh. "A Soviet Union ushanka? Is he trying to get us in on the proletarian revolution? I hardly think we have time for that right now!"

"Somehow, I doubt that's very high on his list of priorities," Heero responded with a chuckle, "In any case, it's not authentic; the material is too new. They shipped in enough for the entire crew and a bit extra, and they're rather comfortable. Quite functional for replicas. I suppose we can consider it a door prize of sorts. Some very nice winter coats came in as well. I know that we've got our own stockpile of cold weather gear, but given that this was made by people who know the cold better than most, I'm not about to turn it down."

"It'd be awfully rude if we did so," Murrue remarked as she plopped the cap on her head, stood up, folded her arms and adopted a humorously poor Russian accent, "Let us accept Moscow's gift and fight on for the glorious Motherland!"

There was a moment of silence, and that was as long as Murrue could maintain her composure before she started giggling like an embarrassed schoolgirl. "Oh, god, that was bad!"

She was relieved to hear a chorus of lighthearted chuckles from her bridge crew, while Heero gave her an amused smirk. "I'll be generous and give you a six out of ten. Points for effort, but the execution needs work."

"Well, at least I'll have time to practice while we're here," said Murrue, "I can try to pick up the accent by proxy when we go into town, right?"

Heero shrugged. "I won't stop you, but maybe don't indulge in it once the conference comes. Marshall Baranov might get a good laugh out of it, but we can't count on the rest of our hosts sharing his eccentricities."

Murrue sighed. "I suppose you're right."

The primary door to the bridge slid open a moment later, and Lieutenant Tsukino walked in. She came to a stop when she saw Murrue, and a rather bemused look appeared on her face.

"Reporting for my watch, Captain," the XO said, looking like she was trying very hard not to smirk, "or should I be calling you 'comrade' or 'tovarisch' from here on out?"

Murrue smiled as she shook her head. "I think 'Captain' will continue to suffice, Lieutenant."

Lieutenant Tsukino nodded. "Good, that keeps things easy. Anyway, I'm here to relieve you, Captain."

Murrue's eyes widened slightly as she turned to Heero. "Is it really that time already?"

"Time flies when you're focused on work," Heero replied, "It's actually why I came up here when I did. I bet you could do with a meal."

"I won't argue with that," said Murrue before turning back to her XO, "The bridge is yours, Lieutenant. Hopefully, you'll have a quiet watch."

"Those are the best ones, Captain," Lieutenant Tsukino remarked as she strode forward to take the command chair, "Enjoy your meal."

Murrue led Heero from the bridge, and after the door closed behind them, she suddenly turned around and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Humor me for a moment, will you?"

Her boyfriend arched an eyebrow quizzically but did not resist when Murrue removed the ushanka from her head and placed on his. In fact, he mirrored the pose she had struck on the bridge earlier, and his imitation didn't stop there.

"What are Moscow's orders, tovarisch?" he asked with an admittedly much-better attempt at a Russian accent than her earlier efforts.

The two of them chuckled together before Murrue swiped the ushanka from his head. "Damn it, I knew you'd pull it off better than me! Now look what you've done; I'm all jealous over here!"

Heero smirked. "I'm sure I can find a way to make it up to you when we retire for the night."

A surge of heat rushed to Murrue's face, though that didn't stop her from breaking out into a mischievous grin. "Oh, you'd better!"

That was when her stomach rumbled, giving Murrue a rather embarrassing reminder of just how long it had been since she'd last eaten. "After we grab dinner, that is."

They first swung by their shared quarters so Murrue could put the hat away, and then the two of them made their way to the mess hall. It didn't take them long to dish up; they were still a little way ahead of the main dinner rush. They then found a table at one of the back corners and wasted no time in chowing down.

I guess we're both famished, Murrue mused as she watched Heero dig in vigorously, but it has been a busy past day and a half or so.

The immediate aftermath of yesterday's battle had been relatively calm, with both the Archangel and Dominion settling into defensive positions on Moscow's western periphery. Terminal was ready to lend additional aid should the Eurasians request it, but as of right now no such requests had come. Instead, Marshall Baranov had promptly begun shipping over needed supplies practically the moment Murrue placed the orders through Major Gardinier, and both her and Natarle's crews had been kept busy with loading the shipments and performing maintenance on their respective vessels. Of course, given their previous animosity towards the Eurasian Federation, Murrue and Natarle had instructed their crews to carefully examine the contents of each shipment for signs of listening devices or other forms of subversion or sabotage. Murrue didn't seriously expect the Eurasians to try and pull something over on Terminal after they'd just helped save their capital, but war had taught her the value of taking precautions.

Thankfully, nothing untoward had been discovered in the shipments so far. The mood aboard the Archangel was one of visible optimism and relief, which was quite a welcome change from the near-constant state of alert and tension that Terminal had been under ever since ZAFT's attack on Home One. For the first time in this war, it felt like events were finally swinging in their favor. Granted, they were still pending a very important meeting with the Eurasian Federation's leadership, both civil and military, before anything official could be finalized. Still, Murrue was hopeful, and so were her subordinates.

"Any new reports regarding the Atlantic Federation forces that escaped yesterday?" Heero asked.

Murrue finished her most recent mouthful before answering. "I checked with Major Gardiner about half an hour ago. The Eurasian Federation Air Force has been hounding the surviving enemy reinforcements, and they've managed to pick off some stragglers, but it looks like the majority of them will manage to slink back to Atlantic Federation occupied territory."

Heero nodded. "That's about what I expected. I wish we could've bagged more of them yesterday, but we had our hands full. You made the right call in having us concentrate on the remnants of the main assault force. Letting that land battleship run free, even in its damaged state, could've caused problems down the line."

Murrue sighed. "I know, but I still feel like we could've done more to reduce the number of escapees. Maybe if we'd arrived sooner…"

Heero cut her off with a firm shake of his head. "There's no point in going down the road of 'what if' or 'if only' here. You'll just fill your head with doubts. We did great work yesterday, Murrue. Azrael's clone and a few stragglers slipping through the net doesn't change that."

Murrue took a deep breath. "You're right. Still, knowing the bastard's still out there after all the death and misery he's inflicted upon the world doesn't exactly sit right with me."

"That makes two of us," Heero agreed, "His time will come, Murrue. With patience and a bit of luck, we'll be the ones to bring him down."

Murrue raised her water bottle. "I'll drink to that."

They spent a few minutes putting a dent in their meals before Heero spoke up. "I touched base with Eric a little earlier today. He's been monitoring Eurasian Federation newsfeeds, focusing in particular on the government's reaction to the invasion and how yesterday's battle is being described to the people. Moscow is suitably riled up, and something big is brewing in Parliament."

"Are they going to make an official declaration of war?" asked Murrue, "Last I checked, they still hadn't gotten around to that yet."

With all that the frantic activity that the invasion had unleashed, Murrue had been shocked to learn that Moscow somehow hadn't actually declared war on their invaders. Granted, with all efforts being focused purely on thwarting the offensive, action on the ground was much more important than legal declarations from Parliament, but it had still struck Murrue as an absurd situation. What news reports she'd glimpsed in between duty-watches had announced Moscow authorizing 'emergency combat operations' in response to the Atlantic Federation's aggression, but nothing beyond that.

"I imagine that's part of it," Heero replied, "but Eric made it sound like there was much more to it. He didn't have anything concrete, though. At this point, all we can do is wait and see."

Murrue nodded. "I hope he's able to dig up something. I've tried getting more information out of Major Gardinier, but I get the sense that she's not being let in on the innermost workings of her superiors. She's being told what they feel she needs to know, no more than that."

"Such is the way of professional armed forces," Heero remarked, "We can't really hold that against her. At least she's making sure our supply requisitions are being forwarded up the chain quickly."

Murrue smiled. "That's true. I didn't expect this going in, but resupply should actually be wrapped up within the next day or two at the most. Maintenance is proceeding like clockwork as well; the Archangel will be firing on all cylinders well before we leave Moscow."

"What about the Dominion?" asked Heero.

"Natarle's reporting pretty much the same for her ship," Murrue answered, "She'll be just as ready for action as we will."

Heero nodded. "That's good. I think we'll be safe in Eurasian Federation territory for the time being, but it never hurts to be prepared."

"All too true," Murrue concurred, "I can't see the Atlantic Federation attempting another incursion so soon after their invasion force was all but annihilated, but I could always be reading them wrong. They've already proven that they have no regard for human life, and that includes the lives of their own soldiers."

"No argument there," said Heero, "Of course, it's not just the Atlantic Federation that we need to worry about. ZAFT has been awfully quiet since the invasion of Europe began, and I don't like it."

"I know what you mean," Murrue replied, "Sure, they sent a token squadron to Berlin, and Wufei showed up at both Vienna and Moscow, but that's pretty much it. I know Durandal's cold, but just sitting back and watching the Atlantic Federation launch a campaign of slaughter against the Eurasian Federation… even if it's two of his enemies ripping each other to shreds, I would've thought he'd make some sort of move in response."

"That inaction is his move," Heero remarked, "You're right that it's cold, but you said it yourself; it's two of his enemies ripping each other to shreds. From a military standpoint, letting the two most prominent member states of the Earth Alliance expend their forces in internecine conflict is the right move. Staying out of the fray preserves his own strength while his foes weaken each other. That being said, it's a mistake on both humanitarian and political grounds, and we need to use it against him."

Murrue nodded. "Thanks to our active intervention, we're in a position to forge ties with the Eurasians and earn their backing. Getting them on our side not only robs the Atlantic Federation of valuable resources and manpower, but it also gives us a powerful support base for when we take on ZAFT."

"Exactly," said Heero, "although it won't be quite that simple. We still need to sell the Eurasians on why they'll want to side with us over ZAFT when in our campaign against Durandal. ZAFT mostly sitting back and letting the Atlantic Federation run rampant in Europe definitely helps us build the case for Terminal being a more reliable partner, but we'll need more than just our own actions in the past few battles to solidify a real partnership."

Murrue sighed. "Looking at it logically, ZAFT has more to offer the Eurasian Federation than we do. Even if their inaction in the face of the Atlantic Federation's invasion leaves a bitter taste in Moscow's mouth, the simple fact of the matter is that ZAFT's resources and military strength far exceed that of Terminal. There's also the fact that we put quite a dent in the Eurasian Federation Navy, although ZAFT played a role there as well. Bringing them on board is going to be an uphill climb even with the goodwill we've won recently."

Heero concurred. "It won't be easy, but we do have a few cards that we can play to our advantage here. For starters, there's Durandal's role in helping to set the stage for this war."

Murrue's eyes widened slightly. "You're referring to his positioning of Armory One and his plans to develop a full colony city around it at L4, right?"

Heero nodded. "Yes. Armory One was attacked before that plan could be fully realized, of course, and it wasn't widely known that Durandal had such ambitions. Frankly, he was careless in revealing that information to me when we met on the Minerva. Now's our chance to make him pay for that mistake."

Murrue smiled as she followed Heero's train of thought. "Only a complete idiot would fail to realize that positioning a full PLANT colony city at L4 would be interpreted as an aggressive and expansionist move, one that'd be guaranteed to dramatically increase tensions within the Earth Sphere. Durandal has made some mistakes, but he's certainly not an idiot. His reputation in the world is that of a careful and thoughtful leader, meticulous in his deliberations before deciding on a particular policy. Revealing to the Eurasian Federation leadership that Durandal planned on establishing a colony city at L4 would plant seeds of doubt in their minds regarding the Supreme Council Chairman's true intentions."

"Precisely," Heero confirmed, "By itself, that knowledge won't be enough to completely make our case, but it helps to lay a foundation. I doubt the Eurasians will take us at our word, of course. They'll do their own digging and analysis. Still, simply laying that possibility out in front of them and getting them to consider it will help nudge them in our direction."

Murrue smirked. "Rather devious of you. I can't help but wonder what some of the foes you faced in your old world might make of it."

Heero chuckled ruefully. "Seems Treize's influence rubbed off on me more than I'd once thought. He's probably grinning in his grave right about now."

"I can imagine that," Murrue remarked, "What were those other cards you had in mind?"

Heero took a deep breath. "The fake Lacus Clyne, the assassination attempt on the real Lacus Clyne, and Shinn's report that Durandal planned on transporting Stella to the PLANTs for vivisection. We've been sitting on that knowledge by ourselves for some time now, with the exception of what Adaline revealed to Lunamaria regarding the attempted hit. That knowledge is a powerful weapon, and it's time to employ it."

Murrue considered it carefully. "Are you sure about that? I know we wanted to wait for the moment where revealing that information would do the most to simultaneously damage Durandal and boost our own cause. Would it really have the desired impact with the Eurasians?"

"That was something I'd been worrying about earlier," Heero confessed, "However, I got a tip from Eric that sealed the deal for me. In addition to monitoring the political news of the Eurasian Federation, he's been trying to dig up personal information on key members of their civilian and military leadership. It's been slow going; we don't have the same kind of contact network here that we do up in the PLANTs, so much of what Eric's found has really just been from combing through what's been published in domestic outlets or what ZAFT had previously compiled in dossiers during his time with them."

"That's a rather limited pool of knowledge," Murrue remarked with concern.

Heero nodded. "It is, but Eric found a nugget that I think's the tip of a goldmine, and it's from a surprising sector; pop culture."

Murrue was intrigued. "Go on."

"As you know, Lacus is still hugely popular as a singer even though her days of public concerts are behind her," said Heero, "However, official distribution of her music is something of a mixed bag. The PLANTs allow the full repertoire of her work to be performed, and so do neutral countries, including the Orb Union prior to the Seirans bringing it into the Earth Alliance. All member states of the Earth Alliance have placed limits on her music, ranging from censoring certain songs to outright blanket bans, with the Atlantic Federation naturally being the most draconian of the lot. However, the censor within the Earth Alliance member states only cover 'official' distribution outlets."

Murrue smiled as she realized where this was going. "But unofficially…"

"She's a rockstar in the underground music scene," Heero finished, smiling as well, "She's seen as speaking truth to power and trying to bring people together, and at great personal risk to boot. Online message boards are devoted to analyzing her song lyrics, and it's not uncommon to find graffiti of her in the alleys of major cities. Her stand against the leaders of both the Earth Alliance and ZAFT during the First Bloody Valentine War made her an icon, and that star power has not faded in the slightest; it's why Durandal tried to capitalize on it with the fake Lacus, after all. According to Eric, underground distribution of Lacus's work leads to some very interesting places… including the halls of power within the Eurasian Federation. It's pretty much an open secret that she has fans within Parliament, and that includes the Prime Minister. Surprisingly enough, her work's also got something of a cult following with certain members of the military as well, including some of the top brass."

Murrue couldn't help but smirk. "Would Marshall Baranov happen to be among her closet fans?"

"There were no direct sources confirming or denying that," Heero replied, "However, I was down in the hangar when one of the supply shipments came in, and I overheard the Eurasian Federation officer overseeing the transfer with our own crew mention something curious; that he and several of his colleagues were hoping to catch a glimpse of Lacus while they were here. Your crew neither confirmed nor denied her presence, simply stating that she was attending to important business at the moment. That was when I heard the officer laugh and say that Marshall Baranov would be disappointed that he couldn't bring him back an autograph from her."

Murrue nodded. "I'd say that answers my question, then. It does make me wish that we'd held off on Operation Passport; actually having Lacus present here would no doubt do our side of the coming negotiations a world of good."

Heero merely shrugged. "What's done is done. Even in her absence, we can still make use of her reputation. If Marshall Baranov were to learn of Durandal creating a fake Lacus and attempting to assassinate the real one, it would probably go a long way towards convincing him to ally with Terminal long-term. At the very least, it would poison the well against Durandal, or at least keep the Eurasians wary of him."

"Which would help our own cause either way," Murrue concurred, "It's a good idea, but not a call that we can make unilaterally. I'll run it by Natarle, Eric and Cagalli later."

"Sounds good," said Heero.

Murrue sighed. "Here I thought just leading the Archangel was stressful, but trying to navigate delicate negotiations on top of that… I feel like I'm in way over my head here."

Heero smiled. "For what it's worth, I feel the same way. It's so much simpler to just fly into combat and engage the enemy directly. Diplomacy's not my area of expertise, to put it mildly. Still, the potential rewards here make it worth stepping outside our comfort zones. We can do this, Murrue."

Murrue reached across the table to take his hand in hers. "I hope you're right."

The two of them spent the next few minutes eating before Murrue spoke again. "At least we'll still have some time to prepare before we get down to the work of diplomacy. Major Gardinier's kept me apprised of her superiors' general status as best she can, and from what she's saying it sounds like they've got their hands full right now. In fact, she had a message from Marshall Baranov on that front; he said that if we wrap up our resupply and repairs on schedule, we'll be able to squeeze in that shore leave before convening a conference rather than after."

"A little break before negotiations get underway would do us all some good," said Heero.

"Not to mention some fresh air," Murrue remarked, "Nothing against the Archangel, but it feels like I've been cooped up inside her ever since this war began. I need to get outside and stretch my legs, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels that way."

"No, I imagine you're not," Heero concurred, "Lucky for us, we've got most of Moscow to take a stroll through. The fighting only impacted the outskirts, and from all we've been hearing through Major Gardiner it sounds like the recovery work is going quite well. Civilian casualties were quite low all things considered; they did a remarkable job with their evacuation efforts, especially when you remember just how quickly the Atlantic Federation army was advancing."

Murrue smiled. "All of which means we'll be able to enjoy a guilt-free outing within the next few days. What do you say, Heero? You and me, taking a nice and leisurely walk through the downtown areas? Take in the sights, sample the local food, buy a few souvenirs?"

Heero readily returned her smile. "It's a date."

….

Sitting in the back of a black sedan, Eileen Canaver couldn't help but feel somewhat disheartened by her reflection in the window. Sure, she hadn't changed outwardly in the years since the First Bloody Valentine War. She still wore her blonde hair long, still favored a sharp and dark blue dress suit as her working attire, and still kept herself in shape. However, the dark violet eyes of the reflection staring back at her possessed a despair and weariness that she hadn't felt since the darkest days of Patrick Zala's regime, and the weight of the world was once again on her shoulders.

To think I once believed that stepping down from the Supreme Council after my tenure as Provisional Chairwoman would give me the chance to finally relax, she mused, I guess fate had other plans.

She hadn't absented herself completely from politics; as much as Eileen might publicly deny it, privately she found the game too fascinating to truly step away from. That being said, she'd recognized that she needed to take a smaller role, for the sake of both her own mental health and to allow the PLANTs a chance to move on from the prior generation of leadership. So, she'd taken on the post of September City's internal ambassador. Each PLANT colony city had one, with the holder of the position charged with managing relations between the individual colonies of their particular 'city' and ensuring continued mutual support and prosperity. It was busy and challenging work, yes, but the level of stress involved was much reduced compared to serving on the PLANT Supreme Council, and it still allowed for much more time off and chances to catch her breath than her previous post ever would. All in all, Eileen had been quite happy with her new job.

At least, she had been while the world was at peace.

The growing tensions between the Earth Alliance and the PLANTs over the past year had leant a new level of anxiety to Eileen's work, though it had mostly been in the background. Her role had taken on fresh importance as she toured each of the September City colonies, making sure they had adequate supplies and that security measures were up-to-date in the event of open hostilities. Hardening lines of communication and coordinating local preparations with those on the national level had kept Eileen busy, but despite the experience that came with the last war she didn't want to believe that a new conflict could break out. Surely cooler heads would prevail this time; no one could possibly want another war, especially when the prior conflict had come perilously close to outright annihilating mankind.

Of course, Eileen had been forced to confront her denial head-on all too soon. The Atlantic Federation's declaration of war followed by their attempted nuclear assault on the PLANTs had swiftly squashed all hopes of de-escalation, and now she found herself living in the midst of another global conflict. Then again, apart from the scare at the start of the war, one would hardly know that a new conflict was underway if one lived in September City. The gleaming cityscape that Eileen saw out the window looked as pristine as ever, and people went about their business much as they had before the outbreak of hostilities.

It was only when one took a closer look that they might find signs of the times. Soldiers in uniform could be spotted with much greater frequency than before, with a particular increase in the armed security presence within government facilities. Factory workers were being stuck with longer shifts; September City's electronics industry, normally geared towards civilian manufacture, had been required to shift a good portion of its production capacity over to fulfilling ZAFT contracts. Both civilians and soldiers alike had a subtle air of tension and unease about them that Eileen had found impossible to miss, and it wasn't uncommon to catch people glancing up at one of the colony's massive windows, as if they might glimpse a missile that somehow slipped through the Exclusion Grid.

Then, of course, there was the much more obvious indicator of the extraordinary times that the citizens of the PLANTs were living in.

Namely, the broadcasting of new speeches by none other than Lacus Clyne.

Or, rather, the fake Lacus Clyne.

Eileen had seen through the charade from the start, of course. The real Lacus Clyne had explicitly communicated her desire to retire from public life to Eileen following the conclusion of the First Bloody Valentine War, and she had followed through on that. More to the point, Eileen knew that Lacus wasn't in the PLANTs. She didn't know exactly where on Earth Lacus had retired to, though she had a few ideas in mind. Those were academic, though, compared with the very disturbing implications of Durandal's administration employing a fake Lacus Clyne for propaganda efforts. It had raised quiet alarm bells in Eileen's head, although how she should respond had been far less clear.

So, Eileen had mostly kept her head down, carrying out her official duties while keeping a sharp lookout for anything that might raise further red flags. At the same time, she'd quietly begun reaching out to many of the political contacts she'd formed during her time on the Supreme Council, particularly those who had covertly aided the Clyne Faction. It was mostly just to get a sense as to where her old colleagues were, what positions they currently held and how they might come into play should the situation call for a return to the clandestine intrigue that had ultimately been required to oust Patrick Zala's supporters at the climax of the First Bloody Valentine War. Eileen didn't think that Chairman Durandal required that sort of counter, but her guard was up and she wanted to keep her options open.

For much of the war so far, things had been relatively calm on the political front. As ZAFT's posture was overall defensive, especially in outer space, major actions that might arouse suspicion of intent were hard to come by. Of course, there were exceptions, primarily down on Earth. The seizure of the Suez Canal, while a sound strategic choice, did set Eileen on edge; it smacked of the old territorial conquests Patrick Zala had sought on the surface during the last war. Taking an entirely new base at Diocuia and subsequently fortifying the absolute shit out of it was also concerning, especially since its position when combined with that of the Gibraltar fortress provided an ideal launching point for a pincer assault on all of Europe should ZAFT be so inclined. Eileen didn't think that her country's military had the troops required for such a massive operation…

…but that had been before the Atlantic Federation and Eurasian Federation started openly shooting at each other.

The American invasion of Europe was the hot item on the newscasts now, and for good reason. Images of the nightmarish carnage visited upon Berlin were harrowing reminders of the horrors of war, and Eileen suspected it was all too easy for her fellow citizens to imagine such atrocities being visited upon them, and on a much larger scale to boot. It was a tragedy in every sense of the word, one so horrific that PLANT-based philanthropic organizations had immediately begun fundraising efforts for humanitarian relief despite the fact that Berlin was legally an enemy city. Eileen approved of the efforts, and Durandal's administration had so far made no moves to interfere in them…

…just like it had made virtually no move to stop the Atlantic Federation's campaign of slaughter in Europe.

I know the old maxim is 'never interrupt your opponent while they're making a mistake', Eileen thought, but for ZAFT to just sit back and watch as the Atlantic Federation openly butchers civilians…

It didn't sit right with her, and Eileen knew that she wasn't the only one who felt that way. Her network of contacts established during the last war included members of the military, and plenty of them were still actively serving. From what she'd learned, there was a growing sense of confusion and unease amongst many of the officers as they watched the bloodbath unfold in Europe. While there was little love lost for the Eurasian Federation government, the general sentiment was that its people certainly didn't deserve the barbarism being inflicted upon them now and that ZAFT had a moral obligation to intervene. The fact that it had not, apart from apparently very limited action in the form of the new battleship Minerva and its various mobile suits, was prompting equal parts bafflement and wariness amongst both commanders and enlisted troops alike from what Eileen was hearing.

Would ZAFT continue to play the role of spectator while the Americans attempted to put Europe to the torch? It troubled Eileen greatly that she couldn't firmly answer that question. From a political standpoint, intervention made sense; it was a chance for the PLANTs to exploit the fracture within the Earth Alliance by aligning with the Eurasian Federation against the Atlantic Federation. The Eurasian Federation was an economic juggernaut and its military, while not quite as powerful as that of the nation now attacking it, was still nothing to sneeze at. Leaning into the conflict, supporting the Eurasian Federation and using the opportunity to open up dialogue and possibly arrange a ceasefire or even armistice between them and the PLANTs in exchange for greater military aid against a common foe, would present a golden opportunity to cleave off a major chunk of the Earth Alliance and therefore significantly reduce the resources and manpower arrayed against ZAFT. It would amount to a strategic political and military coup of epic proportions, the kind of game-changer that came along only once and could decisively tip the scales of a war. If Eileen could see that, surely Chairman Durandal could as well.

So why was he so dead set on fence-sitting here?

"Does he really just want them both to bleed each other dry?" she murmured.

"Ma'am?" said her driver.

Eileen shook her head; she trusted the man, but only to a point. "It's nothing. Are we almost there?"

"Another five or ten minutes at the most, depending on traffic," her driver replied.

Eileen nodded. "I see."

Careful, she silently chastised herself, Patrick Zala's regime is gone, but Durandal may yet shape up to be just as dangerous. Don't let your guard down.

Almost unconsciously, she slipped a hand into one of the pockets of her jacket, as if to confirm that the small satchel a courier had dropped off at her office earlier today was still there. Sure enough, it was, though the knowledge wasn't as comforting as one might hope. After all, the courier who had delivered it was a member of the Clyne Faction's old network, and the fact that he was being employed again was just one more sign of the dark currents underlying ZAFT's part in the Second Bloody Valentine War.

The driver pulled into the parking garage of an apartment complex several minutes later. Stepping out of the vehicle, Eileen moved swiftly. Soon enough, she was at her residence, a simple if spacious penthouse. Entering her private office and closing the door behind her, she made sure that all the curtains were shut before turning on her computer. Reaching into her pocket again, she pulled out the satchel and emptied its contents onto her desk as she sat down. Five small data drives tumbled out, each one marked with a number designating the order in which their contents were to be viewed. There was also a small folded scrap of paper with two words scrawled upon it; White Swan.

One of Lacus Clyne's codenames.

Eileen took a deep breath as she inserted the first data drive into her computer. The fact that Lacus had seen fit to revive that old codename was an ill omen. Leaning forward, she examined the contents of the first drive. There were several folders, with the first one being labeled as an introduction. Started with that one, Eileen opened up and saw that it contained a video.

Lacus appeared on her screen, wearing the outfit that she'd made iconic during the last days of the First Bloody Valentine War; a black and purple tunic tied with a pink sash with a white high-collared and sleeveless jacked worn over it. Her pink hair was tied back in a long ponytail, and her pale cerulean eyes had a somber look to them. The room she was sitting in was sparse, composed of little more than a simple chair and metallic walls. It offered no clue as to her whereabouts; a necessary precaution if the files she'd sent to Eileen had fallen into the wrong hands.

"Carnation, it is a pleasure to address you once again," she began with a polite smile, "though I wish it were under better circumstances."

Eileen winced; 'Carnation' was her codename within the Clyne Faction. If Lacus felt the need to use that moniker for her, then the situation was worse than she'd first feared.

"Forgive me for not sending a message sooner," Lacus continued, "My personal situation has been somewhat fluid since the attack on Armory One. As you might well imagine, with the world descending into war once again, I've had my hands full. I regret that it's only now I'm able to begin communicating with you in earnest. Much work lies ahead of us, and my need for your service is dire. Your knowledge, experience and network of connections will be invaluable in the days, weeks and months ahead."

I wonder who else has gotten a similar message, she mused, I can't be the only one she's reached out to.

"As I'm sure you're aware," said Lacus, her eyes narrowing, "Chairman Durandal's enlisted the services of a look-alike to stand in for me and bolster the morale of his supporters. Under other circumstances, I might be willing to look the other way, but the attempt on my life means I do not have that luxury."

Eileen blinked a few times. She couldn't have heard that right… could she?

As if the recording had read her mind, Lacus put those doubts to rest a moment later. "Rest assured that I would not make such a claim without evidence. The data drive that this message is contained in also holds combat data from Terminal's mobile suits that eliminated a ZAFT black ops force which assaulted our home in Orb. There is also security camera footage corroborating my presence at the time of the attack included for your viewing."

Eileen's mind was reeling as she tried to process what had just been said, but Lacus wasn't done yet. "Thus far in this war, Terminal has focused its efforts on combating the Earth Alliance; their goal of carrying out the agenda of Blue Cosmos had made dealing with them our first priority. However, we fully intend to turn our sights on Durandal's administration soon. I recognize that his claims of waging this war to protect Coordinators have validity, especially in light of the attempted nuclear strike at the start of the conflict, but the Chairman is not acting entirely in good faith. The assassination attempt against me is just one sign that he has a hidden agenda here, and Terminal intends to discover the truth of it."

Eileen nodded, even though she knew that the recording wouldn't react to it. The unease she'd felt regarding how Durandal and ZAFT were carrying out their role in the current conflict had now gone into overdrive.

"Within the remaining drives is further information we've uncovered regarding Durandal's dealings, both in this war and before," said Lacus, "I'll readily admit that much of it is purely circumstantial at this point, but even as I speak my allies are hard at work following up on leads. That being said, there is only so much that Terminal can do with its current assets. It is time for us to cast our net wider and bring old allies back into the fold, and my sincerest hope is that we can count you among them."

The iconic songstress then stood and bowed. "I understand that I am asking much of you, and the risk inherent should you agree to help us is real. Chairman Durandal may not be Patrick Zala, but he is incredibly dangerous nonetheless. I know that you wished to remove yourself from high-stakes politics after the last war, and I would not draw you into this maelstrom lightly. If it is your wish to abstain from involvement, I will understand and respect that. Should that be your decisions, then my only request would be that you destroy the five data drives now in your possession for obvious security concerns."

It was a generous offer, but Eileen knew that she couldn't walk away. Her conscience would never let her, especially after the revelation of the attempt on Lacus's life.

It seems your daughter is still in danger, Siegel, she thought, and that danger is still coming from the PLANTs…

She then saw Lacus smile. "If you do decide to lend our cause your aid once again, I will be in your debt. The final data drive in this set will include instructions for how you can make contact with me should you choose to grant Terminal your support. Regardless of your choice, I wish you well."

The video ended there, and Eileen wasted no time in moving on to the next file on the drive. She'd already made up her mind.

It was time to get to work.

….

Sitting behind the desk in his private office tucked into a corner of Terminal's primary asteroid base, Hiryo Xian was a bit of a mess. He didn't even need a mirror to know it; his reflection in the dormant monitor screen before him revealed a man who's long and graying black hair was disheveled to say the least. Stray hairs had fallen onto his white lab coat and the dark blue shirt beneath it, along with his jeans; the man was in desperate need of a haircut. The First Generation Coordinator's brown eyes had a bit of a dull look to them, though that was nothing that couldn't be fixed with his next cup of coffee.

I wonder how much longer a coffee fix is going to work for me, he mused, The Desert Tiger makes a mean brew, but I need to face the facts; I'm over 60 now, which means there's only so much a good cup of java can do for me. I might really be getting too old for this.

Despite his advancing years, Hiryo wasn't ready to head off into the sunset just yet. The work he was doing for Terminal's mobile suit program was reaching a critical stage, and it was needed now more than ever with the Second Bloody Valentine War escalating to gruesome new heights. The carnage that was being wrought in Europe by the Atlantic Federation was all the incentive Hiryo needed to redouble his efforts. The sooner he and his colleagues completed these new models and got them into the hands of Terminal's top pilots, the sooner they could play their part in bringing this horrific conflict to an end.

He was just about to log back into his work station when one of his assistants, a red-haired woman with sparkling blue eyes in her early thirties named Clairene Lesauvage, barged into the office. "Doctor Xian!"

Hiryo's eyes widened; his assistant was short of breath and looked more than a little anxious. "Clairene, what's the matter?"

"The Desert Tiger's called a meeting," she said, "He wants all the mobile suit developers and their aides in his office ASAP."

"Did he say why?" he asked.

Clairene nodded. "He needs to know if the new models can be moved to the Eternal and the work completed aboard the ship."

Hiryo was taken aback. "Are we moving out? I was under the impression that work was to continue here and that this facility remained secure."

"You can ask him yourself," Clairene replied, "He wouldn't give me any more information than that."

Hiryo stood up. "Well, I guess there's no choice, then. Let's go see him and find out for ourselves."

He followed his aide out of the office, struggling to keep pace with her as she led him towards Andrew Waltfeld's office. Hiryo found himself wishing that the research, residential and administrative block was outside the base's artificial gravity cylinder; he wasn't nearly as in shape as he used to be, and floating through the halls rather than damn near running to keep up with Clairene would've been so much easier.

They arrived a few minutes later, with Hiryo having to pause for a moment to catch his breath. When the two of them walked in, they found that there was only standing room in the office, and even that was a little tight. Hiryo traded quick looks with his various assembled colleagues as they all waited for the man of the hour to tell them what the hell was going on.

Sitting behind his desk, the Desert Tiger gave the crowd a once over before glancing at his wife. "Is this everyone?"

Aisha nodded. "Looks like it."

"Good," said Andrew as he rose and cleared his throat, "Hello, everyone. Sorry to call you all in out of the blue like this, but we've got some important work to do and potentially not a lot of time to do it. I need blunt assessments; how far along is the work on our two latest models, and can the rest of it be finished on the Eternal?"

One of Hiryo's fellow project leads, a short tan-skinned First Generation Coordinator in his late forties named Saman Mohebi, was the first to respond. "As a whole, we're at about 90% of the way to completion for both units. Moving them to the Eternal and completing final adjustments and assembly is possible, but it will be a significant disruption and push back ultimate completion."

"That's fine," said the Desert Tiger, "Both of their intended pilots are well out of reach of the machines at the moment anyway."

Hiryo traded looks with some of his colleagues. Their leader was being way too casual for what had been billed as an urgent meeting. Something was off here.

Someone had to get to the heart of the matter, and Hiryo decided that he'd be the one to do it. "Sir, with all due respect, what's going on? Are we preparing to evacuate the facility?"

"Partially," Andrew replied calmly, "The war's entering a new phase, and we need to be ready to move at a moment's notice."

"If you're referring to the recent escalation on the surface, then I'm not sure how that affects us," remarked a lithe blonde-haired and green-eyed Natural woman in her mid-thirties named Jessica Adams, "I mean, it's barbarous what the Atlantic Federation is doing down there, but wouldn't that only put emphasis on the need to complete our work up here in a timely manner? We need to make sure the new models are in working order as quickly as possible so that they can be shipped to their intended pilots and used to put a stop to this madness. Delaying the work just to move the units to the Eternal is counterproductive. Not to mention the fact that it will be more difficult to handle the remaining work within a warship than it would if the units were to remain within our production facility."

Didn't expect her to come to my aid so readily, Hiryo thought as he resisted the urge to smile at her, especially not after my last attempt to flirt with her was received so poorly. Then again, I suppose my eyes were wandering a bit too much for their own good…

Andrew sighed. "I understand that what I'm asking will impose certain challenges, but there's far more at play here than you realize. When I say that the war's entering a new phase, I'm not just referring to the Atlantic Federation's actions in Europe or the efforts of our friends down on the surface to counter them. You all already know that we're also in a cold war with ZAFT. That cold war will go hot. Not immediately, but sooner than you might think. There's the distinct possibility that ZAFT will discover this base, and we need to be ready to leave in a hurry should that occur. I'd rather have those preparations handled now."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. They'd all known that, sooner or later, they'd be clashing with ZAFT just as they were with the Earth Alliance; everyone present was aware of the attack on Home One and the attempt on Lacus Clyne's life. Conflict with Durandal's forces was to be expected, but Hiryo and his colleagues had all believed that the confrontation would only commence once the more immediate threat posed by the Atlantic Federation's genocidal campaign was decisively neutralized.

Aisha then stepped forward. "We understand that accommodating this is going to be a hassle, but it's far more important that our vital assets are ready to be moved at a moment's notice. I think we can all agree that it's not in our interest to give either the Earth Alliance or ZAFT a chance to capture the units, especially given just how far along they are in their construction. A work delay is a small price to pay for ensuring that the units will remain in our hands should we have to evacuate this facility."

Hiryo found it hard to argue with that, and from the scattered nods of assent around the room, so did the majority of his colleagues. "Very well, then. When are we expected to start the transfer?"

"Immediately," Andrew answered, "I also want you all to have the majority of your personal items moved to the Eternal. Quarters have already been set aside to accommodate all of your respective teams."

"It's our hope that these measures amount to little more than overly cautious preparation," Aisha added, "but we can't afford to take any chances here. You all know the stakes as well as anyone. Your work is vital to Terminal's goal of restoring peace to the Earth Sphere, and we will do everything possible to keep it from falling into the wrong hands."

Andrew then smiled. "If you were looking for a pep talk, that's it. Let's make this happen, people!"

As the crowd began to disperse, Hiryo turned to Clairene. "Thoughts?"

His assistant's brow furrowed. "Most of our weapons have already been installed on the X20A. The DRAGOON Mobile Weapon Wing is going to be the tricky part. All the components are complete, but we've only got it partially assembled. Plus, there's the integrated Voiture Lumiere System to consider; without the outer frame installed for protection, some of those components are exposed, and they're awfully delicate."

Hiryo glanced at Jessica, who was consulting with two of her aides. "Doctor Williams and her team are handling the X20A's propulsion systems, including the Voiture Lumiere. We'll have to coordinate with them."

Clairene folded her arms and gave him a stern look. "I know, so promise me that you'll keep it professional this time. We can't afford to have her storming off just because you can't resist a bit of 'window shopping' as you so eloquently put it last time."

Hiryo couldn't help but chuckle before raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! It'll be strictly business. You have my word."

"I'm holding you to that," Clairene warned him, "It won't just be her foot up your ass if you don't behave yourself."

Hiryo smiled. "I have no doubt of that. Come; let's get to work."

….

Once the crowd had cleared out, Andrew turned to Aisha. "Well, that went better than I expected."

"They're engineers," Aisha replied, "They respond to rationality, and we gave them that in our explanations. We caught them off guard initially, but they understand better than most the value of planning ahead, which is what this all boils down to."

"Good point," said Andrew as he sat down behind his desk and logged back into his workstation, "So, what else do we have on our plates for today?"

Aisha smiled. "A bit of good news; Eileen Canaver's already responded through the channel Lacus provided her in those data drives. She's in."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Really? First I've heard of it. When did this come in?"

"One of our comms techs passed the message along to me just before you called the meeting with the mobile suit design teams," Aisha answered, "We've been getting similar positive responses from the others that Lacus has reached out to. The old Clyne Faction is springing back to life right under Durandal's nose."

Andrew chuckled. "Our songstress gets results quickly when she puts her mind to it. Durandal's got no idea who he's really up against."

Aisha frowned. "I suspect he does, actually. His little decoy scheme was probably not the only reason why he sent that hit squad to Home One. He saw the force she was capable of marshalling during the last war and didn't want a repeat interfering with his own plans."

Andrew sighed. "I suppose your right. Well, he's going to have interference now whether he likes it or not."

Aisha smirked. "Indeed. Speaking of the Chairman, a message came through from one of Eric's contacts in Aprilius One. An interesting little nugget that may lead us to the mother lode, as it were."

Andrew eyed her keenly. "Go on."

"You know how Martin's leading an expedition to Mendel?" Aisha reminded him, "Well, one of the agents Eric has digging into Durandal's ties to the colony found a connection on the PLANT side of things. Communications and correspondence between Mendel and the PLANTs was sparse, which isn't too surprising given the nature of the work going on out there. However, apparently Durandal placed an order during his time at L4 to have a personal item shipped over there from L5."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Really? What was it?"

Aisha shook her head. "That, we don't know. What Eric's source was able to find out, though, was the address within the Mendel colony that the item was shipped to."

Andrew grinned. "So, we now know where Durandal's residence within Mendel was. That gives Martin's team a new place to search for clues once they arrive! Has the information been forwarded to him?"

Aisha nodded. "I made sure of it before the meeting."

Andrew reached over to put his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. "What would I do without you?"

Aisha giggled. "You'd be lost and you know it!"

Andrew chuckled as she settled into his lap. "Got that right."

They gazed at each other fondly for a few moments before the Desert Tiger got back down to business. "How far out is Martin from Mendel?"

Aisha tapped her chin in thought. "I know he had to take a rather convoluted route to sneak past enemy patrols. If I had to guess, I'd say at least another few days before he gets there. Even after he arrives, his team will have a lot of ground to cover. They'll probably be on site for quite some time."

"In other words, we'll be waiting a while before we know for sure if we hit paydirt out there," said Andrew, "Well, you know what they say; good things come to those who wait."

Aisha smiled before leaning down to kiss him again. "Indeed, they do."

….

November 25th, C.E. 73

Sitting next to Stella's chair, Shinn was more anxious than usual. The latest update he'd gotten from the chief medical officer of the Archangel was definitely good news; enough of the synthesized substitutes for the horrific drugs that the Atlantic Federation had been constantly doping up Stella with were in her system to allow for her regimen of sedatives to be eased, and the young woman was due to wake up supposedly within the next hour or so. Nurses were standing by and ready to come over the moment Shinn saw Stella's eyes open, and he was watching her like a hawk. This would be an important step in her long road to recovery, and he wanted to be here for it. Even so, there was an undercurrent of unease that the former ZAFT pilot couldn't banish no matter how hard he tried.

She's spent so much time sedated while the doctors work on her, he thought, I have no idea how she's going to react when she wakes up. What the hell am I supposed to say to her? Is she even going to remember who I am?

Not for the first time since meeting Stella, Shinn wished that he'd paid a bit more attention during the ZAFT Academy lessons focusing on the medical field. Granted, those lessons had mostly focused on basic first aid, but there had also been lectures on PTSD and how to help one's comrades with it. Of course, the main point had been to nudge said comrades in the direction of the closest available counselor, but there had been pointers on how to handle a situation if a qualified professional was out of reach. Shinn doubted those lessons would've come anywhere close to properly preparing him for a case like Stella's, but it still would've been better than nothing. He knew that the Archangel had a counselor of its own aboard, and Shinn realized he'd probably be wise to leave Stella's mental care to her, but he wanted to have a part in the young woman's recovery.

At the very least, he wanted to make sure she was protected. The medical staff aboard the Archangel had been meticulous about caring for Stella and keeping her safe, but Shinn hadn't forgotten how Doctor Helman had ultimately acquiesced when Talia had told him of ZAFT's plans for the captured pilot. Sure, maybe Shinn was being paranoid now, but he felt fully justified in it.

He was so focused on watching Stella that he didn't even hear the sickbay's door open, and his only hint as to the company he now had was when a tan-skinned hand fell on his shoulder and a familiar male voice came from behind him. "Hey, Shinn. How's it going?"

Shinn had to stop himself from springing out of his chair. Looking over his shoulder, he saw none other than another ZAFT defector, albeit one that had jumped ship years before Shinn. Dearka had come by, and he wasn't alone; fellow ZAFT defector Yzak was with him, along with Miriallia and Flay. Shinn hadn't really started spending time with any of them until the Atlantic Federation's invasion of Europe had kicked off, and that had mostly involved him coordinating his actions with the two former ZAFT pilots on the battlefield. Still, they'd been easy to work with, and he'd found them approachable enough during the downtime between operations. Shinn might've felt it too soon to call them friends just yet, but they certainly weren't enemies. As for Flay and Miriallia, he knew even less about them than he did about their respective boyfriends, but they both seemed like compassionate and friendly people.

Maybe they can help, he thought as he glanced over at Stella again, I mean, I don't know if they have medical qualifications, but… well, I know I sure as hell don't. I'm in way over my head here…

"Not bad, I guess," Shinn finally said when he turned his gaze back to the others, "What brings you guys here?"

"We wanted to check in," Yzak answered, "You've been spending pretty much all your time since the battle in here."

"How are things with Stella?" asked Miriallia.

Shinn smiled, though it was a feeble one. "Starting to look up, I think. They've got her off the sedatives, so she should be waking up pretty soon."

Flay eyed him carefully. "You don't sound very happy about that. What's wrong?"

Shinn sighed; if she saw through him that easily, then there was no point in hiding his concerns from the others. "I'm just… worried. She's been through a lot, and a lot more has happened since the medics put her under. I have no idea what's going to happen when she wakes up."

Dearka winced sympathetically. "Yeah, that's going to be rough."

"Worst part will probably just be the initial shock," Yzak guessed, "She was out of it when you sprang her from the Minerva and brought her here, right?"

Shinn nodded. "Pretty much. I don't think she's actually been conscious since the doctor on the Minerva last sedated her."

"That can't be healthy," Miriallia murmured.

"They didn't have a choice though," Flay argued, "Wasn't the withdrawal from the drugs eating her up when she was awake? Putting her under for such a long period of time might not be good, but the alternative was a very painful death."

"I know," said Miriallia as she looked down at the unconscious Stella, "Even so… poor girl."

"Anything we can do to help?" Dearka offered.

"I… I don't know," Shinn confessed, "I don't even know what I can do to help her at this point."

"Why don't we all stick around until she wakes up?" Flay suggested, "We're all off shift now, and it's not like we've got anywhere else we need to be."

"Shore leave's not set to start until another day or so anyway," Yzak added.

"You guys don't have to do that," Shinn protested, "I mean, I'm sure you've all got better things to do than just sit here."

"I think we'll make up our own minds on that front," Miriallia casually countered, already pulling up a chair and settling in.

Shinn turned to Dearka, who simply smiled and shrugged. "Trust me, pal; when she gets like this, you're not going to win."

Shinn could only look on in a mix of bemusement and gratitude as Dearka and the others followed Miriallia's lead. Soon they were all sitting around Stella's bed, settling in for the long haul. In the end, all Shinn could do was accept it.

"Thanks," he eventually said with a smile, "You guys… you're great."

Yzak chuckled. "We try."

"Some of us a bit too hard at times," Flay remarked before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

Yzak raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your competitive streak," Dearka answered with a smirk, "Come on, man; you spend way more time in the simulations than I do, and we all know why. I don't know if you're good enough to kick Athrun's ass yet, but if not then it's definitely not for lack of trying."

"Hopefully you won't have to put that training to the test against him," Miriallia murmured softly, "For real, I mean."

Yzak shook his head. "I don't think it'll come to that. He worked with us during the Berlin fight, and Kira said he even secretly communicated with him. Athrun might still be aboard the Minerva, but I've got a feeling he's not quite as under Durandal's thumb as we previously feared."

The mention of the Supreme Council Chairman stirred some rather unpleasant feelings in Shinn's gut as he looked down at Stella again. "Durandal… you guys are really going to fight him and the Earth Alliance at the same time?"

"Eventually, yeah," Dearka confirmed.

"It's hardly ideal," Flay noted, "but a reckoning's coming whether we like it or not."

"And it'll be sooner rather than later," Miriallia chimed in, "You all saw the intel Heero forwarded."

Shinn's eyes narrowed slightly. "What intel?"

Miriallia's eyes widened, as if in belated realization that she'd let something slip that she wasn't supposed to. "Oh… I… sorry, Shinn. It's classified."

Shinn bristled. "Classified?"

Dearka gave Miriallia an exasperated look before turning to Shinn. "Look, nothing against you, but you're not a full member of Terminal yet. You came here from ZAFT with Stella basically seeking asylum, and we've given you that."

"I've also fought alongside you in combat," Shinn countered.

"By your own choice," Yzak shot back, "and those engagements have all been against the Earth Alliance so far. Given that they've been your enemy since the start of the war and they're responsible for Stella's condition, continuing to fight them isn't exactly a difficult decision."

"But it won't be just the Earth Alliance we'll have to fight in this war," Flay added, "We've already skirmished with ZAFT before. Eventually, we're going to face them head on."

"It's one thing to fight against an enemy from another country," said Dearka, "It's another thing entirely to fight against your own people."

Yzak sighed. "Believe me, we would know."

Shinn wanted to keep arguing, but the grim looks Dearka and Yzak had on their faces gave him pause. He realized that they weren't wrong; so far, his choices hadn't been difficult ones. The hardest had been leaving ZAFT, and that had been eased by the knowledge of what they planned on doing to Stella should they be allowed to ship her off to the PLANTs. Even then, all Shinn had done was taken Stella and run away, not turn his guns on them. His battles since leaving ZAFT had all been against the Earth Alliance, a foe that he was both used to fighting and had fresh incentive to keep fighting.

ZAFT, though…

My friends are still with them, he thought as familiar faces flashed through his mind, Rey, Lunamaria, Meyrin, Heine, Yolan, Vino… they're all aboard the Minerva. If Terminal fights ZAFT, the Chairman will almost certainly deploy the Minerva against them. If that clash happens… what will I do?

If he was asking that question about himself, then Shinn realized that Terminal was certainly asking that question about him as well… and they had every right to. They'd given him shelter, cared for Stella and set her on the road to recovery, even allowed him to fight alongside their pilots… but they hadn't asked him to fight against ZAFT, and that was because they didn't know if he could do that.

And Shinn didn't know if he could, either.

In the end, Shinn had to relent. "Fine. I get it. I don't like it, but I get it."

"ZAFT isn't something you should be worrying about right now anyway," Miriallia hastily remarked in an effort to change the subject, "We just finished saving the capital of the Eurasian Federation, and Stella's making progress in her recovery. We should be celebrating both of those, don't you think?"

Wanting to take his mind off of his earlier uncomfortable thoughts, Shinn rolled with it. "I'd definitely like to, though the sickbay might be a bad place to do it."

"Who said anything about partying here?" Flay chimed in, "We were thinking about setting something up during shore leave."

Dearka grinned. "Terminal's a heroic organization in the eyes of Moscow now. If we made our affiliation known at, say, a local bar… well, we probably wouldn't have to pay for a drink all night."

"Would that be allowed?" asked Shinn.

"The drinking, or the revelation?" Yzak replied, "The former would be fine as long as we don't overdo it. As for the latter, as long as we paint a good image of the organization, I don't think it'd be an issue."

Miriallia gave Dearka a hard look. "In other words, you can drink, but don't get completely shitfaced. We don't need you making us looking bad."

Dearka chuckled before raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I promise that I won't party too hard out there."

Yzak smiled. "What do you say, Shinn? Want to tag along with us when we're allowed to go into town?"

"I know you want to be here for Stella," Flay added, "but you need to take some time to relax as well. It's not healthy for you to be worrying all the time, even if it's for someone who definitely deserves your concern."

While a part of Shinn felt that he should remain by Stella's side no matter what, he ultimately didn't have the heart to turn them down. He'd left his previous friends behind when he'd taken Stella from the Minerva, and he missed hanging out with them. Since it'd likely be a long time before he could see them on amicable terms again, it couldn't hurt to make some new friends with Terminal.

"Alright," he finally said, "I'll come with you guys. Just give me a heads up when you've got a time worked out, okay?"

Miriallia smiled. "Sure thing!"

That was when Shinn heard a groan coming from the bed, and his focus immediately returned to Stella. She was slowly shaking her head back and forth, and her eyelids started to flutter. She was starting to wake up, and much sooner than Shinn had expected.

He could only hope that he was prepared for what came next.

….

Stella felt like she was swimming through a roiling sea, desperately following flickering rays of light up to the surface. Strange voices, disjointed and muffled, echoed in her head, and she could see brief flashes of white. The closer she got to the surface, the brighter those flashes became, and the voices grew more distinct.

"Hey, I think she's coming to!" she heard an unfamiliar male voice announce.

"Yzak, get the nurses!" the voice of a female stranger ordered.

"Dearka, let's back up a bit," said a second female voice, "We need to give them some space."

Stella heard another male voice, and this one was familiar. "Stella! Hey, Stella… can you hear me?"

A series of images rushed through her mind, all of the same face. Black hair, reddish chestnut eyes, a warm smile… a face that she'd found comforting in the past. The name, though… what was his name?

She got her answer from that voice a moment later. "Stella, it's me. It's Shinn! You remember me, right?"

"Shinn…" she groaned, suddenly aware of just how dry her throat was.

The swirling mess of the sea that was her mind began to clear; she was almost at the surface. Those rays of light started widening, filling her vision with a brilliant glare. Stella winced against it, but the worst of it soon faded, revealing a setting that was both strange yet somehow familiar. She'd been in enough sickbays to recognize that she was in one now, though that wasn't exactly comforting. People were supposed to go to them to get healed, but in Stella's experience it was often the very opposite that happened to her there… even if she was told otherwise.

A figure at her bedside leaned closer, and Stella's eyes widened as she met his gaze. Despite the utter mess that was her head right now, she knew his face instantly. It was the one face that she'd wanted to see above all others as she'd drifted in darkness.

Shinn.

His face was pale with worry, but he was still smiling as he looked at her. "Stella… how are you feeling?"

She honestly didn't know. Stella might have been awake now, but a strange miasma still blanketed her mind. Bits of memory, disjointed and out of order, zipped through her head. Shinn saving her from the sea, their unwitting first meeting at Armory One, some of her fights against the Impulse that he'd flown, her capture at Cagliari…

… and almost everything after that last event was a complete blank.

Stella looked around in growing panic. "Where am I? What… what happened to me?"

Shinn reached out and took her hand. "You're aboard the Archangel. I had to get you away from ZAFT. I'm sure you have a lot more questions, but all that matters right now is that you're safe. I've been looking after you, and so have the ship's doctors. None of us are going to let anything bad happen to you here, Stella. I promise."

Stella took a deep breath; it had been a long time since she'd felt safe anywhere, and the gaps in her memory weren't helping. Still, this was Shinn promising that she was safe. No matter how big of a mess her head was, she could trust him.

So, Stella found herself smiling despite her fears as she looked at Shinn. "You promise… you really do?"

Shinn nodded. "I do."

One of the female voices she'd heard earlier breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I thought that was going to be so much worse."

"Let's try not to jinx things here," one of the male voices cautioned.

Looking around again, it was only now that Stella began really paying attention to Shinn's companions. Two boys and two girls, both appearing about Shinn's age, maybe a year or two older. Both girls were studying her intently, while the boys looked rather nervous.

One of the girls, the one with brown hair and ocean blue eyes, spoke first. "Hi, Stella. My name's Miriallia. I'm part of this ship's crew. You can trust Shinn; you're safe here. He's been watching over you ever since he brought you here."

Stella slowly nodded. "Okay. I… it's… nice to meet you… Miriallia."

That was when the second girl, the red-head with pale blue eyes, leaned forward. "And I'm Flay, a friend of Miriallia's. We've been really worried about you. It's good to see you finally awake."

Flay then shot a look at one of the boys. "Yzak, what are you waiting for? Introduce yourself!"

The white-haired young man awkwardly raised his hand. "Hey… I'm Yzak. Nice to meet you, Stella."

Then the second boy stepped forward, the dark-skinned one with blond hair. "And I'm Dearka. Hope you're feeling better."

Stella suddenly felt a chill run down her spine as she looked at Dearka. At first, she thought that she knew him, but that couldn't possibly be right. Her memory was shoddy as all hell, but Stella felt confident that she would recognize him if they'd met before. Then her eyes lingered on his blond hair…

… and the image of a very different blond man flashed through her mind.

Multiple images, in fact. In all of them, he wore a mask. At first, the images were comforting. The masked man with the blond hair coming out from the edges of his helmet checking up on her, running her through drills, briefing her before a mission, and other such things. All rather mundane, really.

Then the images took a turn for the worst. Suddenly, she was in a dark room, sprawled out on a bed. She couldn't move, her clothes were gone, the masked man was over her… grabbing her…

Stella began to shake as a whole series of memories flooded her mind. Memories of fear, of being powerless to stop the masked man as his hands seized her legs, as a sharp pain lanced through her…

Stella screamed.

….

Shinn's cautious optimism flew right out the window as Stella flailed while letting loose a bloodcurdling shriek. His face paled, and he froze in panic. He thought that he'd braced for this, but now that the moment of truth was upon him, Shinn was a deer caught in the headlights.

Fortunately for him, both Flay and Miriallia had their shit together. The former immediately summoned the nurses while the latter grabbed Stella's arms to keep her from potentially hurting herself. Yzak move to help, putting his hands on Stella's shoulders and gently but firmly pushing her back down onto the bed. Dearka tried to lend a hand as well, but for some reason Shinn could not comprehend just the sight of him coming forward caused Stella's eyes to widen in horror before she screamed again.

Shinn looked around frantically, his only relief coming when he saw nurses and the chief medical officer rushing over with sedatives. He didn't like the idea of putting Stella back under again, but the only alternative at this point would be the serious risk of self-harm. She was fighting Miriallia and Yzak with all the strength she had, and that strength was considerable given what the Atlantic Federation had done to her.

"Damn it, what the hell?" Yzak hissed as he tried to hold her down.

"I don't get it!" Flay cried out in growing alarm, "What set her off?"

Dearka tried to help them again, but Shinn saw Stella's eyes lock on him and her fight became all the more desperate and ferocious. She kicked wildly, tried to throw punches, even came close to biting Yzak in her attempt to get free.

"You… you're him!" the girl shrieked manically, "Stay away from me!"

Shinn turned to Dearka as he wracked his mind for answers. "Do you know her?"

Dearka raised his hands. "Hey, don't look at me! The first time I saw her was when she was brought to the Archangel, and she was unconscious! She's never seen me before!"

"Then why… is she terrified… of you?" Miriallia gasped as she struggled to keep Stella down while the medics tried to administer a dose, no small feat given their patients fierce resistance.

That was a damn good question, and one that Shinn knew they needed to get an answer to quickly. He knelt down next to Stella, not sure of what he could really do here but determined to try something.

He reached out to put his hands on her cheeks and turn her head towards him. "Stella, look at me! It's Shinn. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise, you're safe here!"

To his relief, her gaze did seem to soften somewhat, but the fear was still in Stella's voice. "But why… why is the Colonel here?"

Shinn looked at Dearka, trying to figure out how in the world Stella had jumped to thinking he was whoever this 'Colonel' was. "That's not the Colonel. That's Dearka. He's a friend, I swear!"

Stella shook her head, though the gesture became feeble as the medics were finally able to inject her. "No… his hair… same… it's him…"

Of all the answers he could've gotten, Shinn hadn't expected that one. Dearka's hair had been what set Stella off? Shinn was suddenly very relieved that he hadn't been born blond.

He watched the girl's eyelids flutter before they closed entirely, and her breathing returned to the gentle rhythm of slumber. Shinn slumped down in his chair and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"That was a disaster," he muttered.

Miriallia looked carefully at Dearka. "Are you sure that the two of you have never met before?"

"I swear, I don't know her!" Dearka protested, "I've got no idea why seeing me sent her to crazy town."

"I'm sorry, Shinn," said Flay, "We didn't mean for this to happen."

Shinn nodded wearily. "I know."

"How long is she going to be out for?" Yzak asked one of the nurses.

"It's a lighter dose than what we gave her previously," the woman replied, "She'll be down for a few hours."

"We should go," Miriallia suggested, "It'd probably be better if we weren't present when she wakes up again."

Shinn sighed. "I think you're right. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Dearka replied.

"You'll still join us for shore leave, right?" asked Flay.

Shinn forced a smile. "Yeah, I will."

The four of them departed the sickbay, leaving Shinn alone with the nurses and Stella. Looking down at the girl, Shinn felt a heavy weight set in his chest. Stella's road to recovery was going to be even thornier to navigate than he'd first imagined.

….

Wufei was never hard for Lunamaria to find. If he wasn't out on a mission, he was either sleeping, maintaining his Gundam, or training on the upper deck of the Minerva. That last one was what he was in the midst of right now, with his sword flashing in the light of the setting Mediterranean sun as Lunamaria came out of the hatch. There were times when she'd contented herself with simply watching the show, but this wasn't one of those times. She was worried, and not without good cause.

Lunamaria was used to Wufei being prickly even on a good day, but ever since he'd returned to the Minerva following the battle of Moscow the Gundam pilot had gone in the opposite direction and become quite subdued. He'd never exactly gone out of his way to chat with people before, but Lunamaria had seen him at least acknowledge people who approached, and she'd had no trouble initiating conversations with him. Now, though, he seemed to be actively trying to avoid interacting with anyone outside of combat operations. Lunamaria had initially decided to leave him be, figuring that he was just coming down from whatever strange high his rivalry with Rodrigues had given him. She'd hoped that he'd come back to his usual grouchy self in time, but that hadn't happened.

So, it was time for an intervention. Granted, Lunamaria had no idea how the hell to really go about something like that, especially with a guy like Wufei. In the end, she decided that he'd probably appreciate the blunt approach, so that's what she went with.

"Hey!" she called out as she approached him, "We need to talk."

"Do we?" Wufei quipped as he continued his exercises without missing a beat.

Lunamaria folded her arms. "I'm serious, Wufei. I don't know what's eating you, but I'm going to find out. You haven't been yourself ever since you came back from Moscow."

"And you would know what me not being 'myself' looks like?" Wufei asked as he weaved circles around himself with his sword.

"I'd know better than anyone else on this ship by now," Lunamaria shot back, "Maybe not as well as your fellow Gundam pilots, but they're not here anymore. Like it or not, you're getting me."

"Lucky me," Wufei grumbled as he lowered his sword, "For the record, nothing's 'eating me', as you put it. I'm just a bit preoccupied."

"More than a bit," Lunamaria countered as she drew near, "By the way, being preoccupied and having something eating you metaphorically is pretty much the same thing. Don't try to split hairs here."

Wufei arched an eyebrow while sheathing his sword. "What's gotten into you today?"

"Don't try to change the subject," said Lunamaria, "It's not going to work. I've left you alone long enough. You've been mopey ever since Moscow, and I want to know why."

Wufei glared at her. "Mopey? Who do you think I am, Shinn?"

"Honestly, you're starting to remind me of him!" Lunamaria snapped, "And that's not a good thing here."

She then took several deep breaths to calm herself. Shinn had become something of an elephant in the room for the crew of the Minerva; no one really liked talking about him, because it inevitably led to thinking about him abandoning them. At first, Lunamaria thought it might have stemmed simply from bitterness that one would naturally feel towards a traitor, but with time she'd realized it wasn't that simple. Shinn hadn't fled alone, but had taken the captured Alliance pilot with him. Everyone knew that he'd hardly left the girl's side while she was in ZAFT custody, and the fact that he'd made sure to take her with him when he'd fled the ship raised some rather uncomfortable questions.

Shinn had been steadfast in his loyalty to ZAFT, at least before his sudden about face. The fact that someone as dedicated to protecting the Coordinator people as him had suddenly decided to jump ship with a prisoner implied something far more sinister had been going on behind the scenes. Shinn was headstrong and rash, but he'd always done what he believed to be right, and Lunamaria didn't think that had changed when it came to the prisoner. If he had decided to get her away from ZAFT, it begged the question of what Shinn believed might've happened to the prisoner had she remained in ZAFT's custody. No one wanted to consider that, because it meant pondering the possibility that the organization they were currently risking their lives to serve might not have been honest with them about how far it was willing to go to win this war.

Lunamaria certainly didn't want to think about it at the moment; she had more immediate concerns on her plate. "Look… I know something's wrong, Wufei, and it has to do with what happened at Moscow. You just haven't been the same since that battle. I want to know what it is… so I can help you."

She was relieved to see the young man's expression soften somewhat, and even caught what might've been the slightest hint of a guilty look. "I don't… want to trouble you with it. It's something that I can handle on my own. You don't need to worry about me."

"Well, it's a bit too late for that," Lunamaria replied as she put a hand on his shoulder, "So, you might as well come clean. It's not like you've got anyone else to talk to about deep stuff on this ship, right?"

Wufei actually chuckled at that, and Lunamaria thought she caught the barest trace of a smile. "I suppose that's true."

He walked over to the railing and leaned against it, with Lunamaria joining him. She watched patiently as his gaze focused on the sparkling light of the setting sun reflecting off of the waves, though Lunamaria knew he wasn't really admiring the beauty. Wufei was putting his thoughts in order, which meant that whatever was eating him was quite serious indeed.

"It's… complicated," he eventually said.

Lunamaria rolled her eyes. "When aren't things complicated when it comes to you Gundam pilots?"

Wufei shrugged. "Fair enough."

Lunamaria smiled. "Come on, Wufei. I'm a good listener; you have to know that by now. Whatever you tell me here, it won't go beyond us. I promise."

He regarded her silently for a moment, and Lunamaria caught something strange in his expression. Was it… gratitude? She definitely wasn't used to getting that from him.

"Your word might be one of the few that one can trust on this ship," Wufei remarked after a moment, "That reflects well on you… and poorly on ZAFT."

"That's a weird way to word a compliment, but I guess I'll take it," Lunamaria quipped, "Alright, now spill the beans."

Wufei tapped the railing for a few seconds before speaking again. "Rodrigues is dead… by my hand."

"I kind of figured that," said Lunamaria, "Word going around was that the Atlantic Federation lost some heavy hitters at Moscow. Combine that with the way you've been acting lately, and it wasn't hard to put two and two together."

Wufei raised an eyebrow. "You're more observant than I thought… perhaps I misjudged you."

Lunamaria smiled. "Wouldn't be the first time you've made that mistake."

She was pleasantly surprised to see Wufei crack a smile as well. "I suppose you're right about that."

Lunamaria found her face beset by a sudden rush of heat, and she hastened to move things along before Wufei noticed. "Yeah, well… whatever. Anyway, about Rodrigues… I would've thought you'd be happy to have finally beaten him for good. I know you were enjoying the rivalry at first, but weren't you starting to get worried that you and him were more alike than you'd first thought… and not in a good way? I'd have figured that taking him down while defending a city his allies were threatening would take some of that weight off of your shoulders."

Wufei shook his head. "I think a part of me believed that as well, but it's never really been that simple. Rodrigues may have been nothing more than a dog of war, but he was honest about it. He didn't look away from the horror of what the Atlantic Federation was doing in this world. He knew that he worked for monsters, and he owned up to it. I can actually respect that, strange as it may seem."

Lunamaria shook her head. "I can't. If he was honest enough to recognize what his employers were and skilled enough to take on you, then he was probably smart enough to understand that he was on the side. He could've defected, just like others did in the last war. He stayed, though, which means he was fine with what the Atlantic Federation wants to do to Coordinators and what they're doing in Europe. I get why you respect him, especially when it comes to his combat skills, but I can't see him as anything other than another lackey of the Atlantic Federation, and I'm glad you killed him."

Wufei actually smiled again as he looked at her. "You're honest like him, in a way… but you've also got stronger moral convictions than him. You have a very clear view of right and wrong, and you're not afraid to act on it. Meilan would've liked you."

Lunamaria blinked a few times at that name. "Meilan… you mean your late wife?"

"Yes," Wufei answered, his voice softening as his smile took on a melancholic feel, "I've been wondering what she would do if she found herself in the middle of this war. The answer's always been the same; she'd fight for what she believed to be right, no matter how powerful a foe it might mean taking on. She was headstrong, honest and straightforward… so much like you."

Lunamaria wasn't entirely sure how she should feel about being compared to the Gundam pilot's dead wife, but Wufei seemed to consider it a compliment, so she'd accept it as such. "Sounds like we would've gotten along well."

Wufei nodded. "You would've."

He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Rodrigues may be dead now… but the questions he posed to me still remain. What's to stop me from becoming like him, only in service to ZAFT instead of the Earth Alliance?"

Lunamaria folded her arms. "For starters, ZAFT isn't engaged in a war of annihilation. The Earth Alliance is. That alone makes a huge difference."

"Does it?" Wufei asked, "Perhaps at first glance, but… things are rarely that simple these days. The past week or so alone has raised some rather… uncomfortable questions."

Lunamaria arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Surely you've noticed," Wufei replied, "that ZAFT's response to the Atlantic Federation's latest offensive has been minimal. Despite the atrocities being committed in Europe, what has Chairman Durandal's answer been? Only to hold his own forces back, with the exception of the Minerva and the pilots aboard her… and that's only because we've forced the issue."

Lunamaria grimaced; she had noticed ZAFT's rather lackluster response to the Atlantic Federation's horrific European invasion… and had admittedly been trying not to think about what it implied. "Yeah…"

"That can't sit right with you, can it?" Wufei pressed.

Lunamaria shook her head. "No, it doesn't. I mean, I'm pretty sure I get why ZAFT's held back. The Atlantic Federation and Eurasian Federation are the Earth Alliance's two strongest member states, and both are officially at war with us. Them tearing each other apart helps us. However… it's not just their armies fighting each other. Millions of civilians are getting caught in the crossfire. Hell, the Atlantic Federation is deliberately targeting them! This is exactly the sort of barbarism that the new ZAFT was supposed to fight against, and yet…"

"Yet ZAFT is doing jack shit," Wufei finished for her bluntly.

Lunamaria sighed in defeat. "Pretty much. The Minerva might be in the fight, but just one ship and its mobile suits can only do so much against a continental invasion force."

"The Archangel and Dominion would beg to differ," Wufei countered.

Lunamaria groaned in frustration. "Look, you know what I mean! They've got a bunch of Gundams, so of course they're going to punch above their weight. The only Gundam we've got left is you. No offense, Wufei; you're the best pilot on this ship, and Altron Custom's the best mobile suit here, but even you can only do so much. As for the rest of us… Rey's got the Impulse, we have a new GOUF Ignited squad, Athrun's in the Saviour, and I'm still using my Gunner ZAKU Warrior. We don't really pack the same kind of firepower as your old friends. We're doing what we can with what we have."

Wufei gave her a surprisingly sympathetic look. "I know you are. You, your Captain, everyone else on this ship seems capable of seeing the moral travesty unfolding before the eyes of the world and wants to do something to stop it. If only your superiors possessed the same level of conviction."

Lunamaria slumped against the railing. "I know. What ZAFT's doing… what the Chairman's doing… it's not right. It can't just be us aboard this ship that feel this way, either. I'm sure there are plenty of soldiers throughout ZAFT who want to get into this fight and save lives. Our commanders must recognize that… and yet they're doing nothing. I don't get it, Wufei."

"Neither do I," Wufei quietly concurred.

The two of them stood at the railing in silence for a long moment before Lunamaria spoke again, her voice so soft that it was almost a murmur. "Wufei… what are we really doing down here? I thought we were deployed to the surface because taking action on Earth itself would help end the war, but things are only getting worse. The scale of the fighting's growing, and so are the casualties… there's no end in sight. Where does it all go from here?"

"I don't know," Wufei admitted, "This war has been one long descent into darkness for the Cosmic Era… and there's nothing stopping it from getting worse. What started out as black and white now is distorted with shades of gray. Then again, perhaps that gray was always there, and it was just easier to ignore until now."

"Is that part of what's bugging you?" Lunamaria asked, "Those shades of gray?"

Wufei slowly nodded. "Yes. While I had a skilled foe like Rodrigues to test myself against, I could perhaps let them fade into the backdrop… for a time, at least. Now that foe is defeated, and I find myself wondering if he wasn't onto something. Men like us whose lives have been defined by combat, who do not understand peace as normal people do and thus constantly seek out the next battlefield… we're ideal tools for warmongers. Rodrigues embraced that, and it led him to enable atrocities. Before this war is over, how close will I come to doing the same?"

Lunamaria reached out and took his hand in hers. "You're not him, Wufei. You're a better man than he could ever hope to be. I know it."

Lunamaria saw him look down, and she thought that Wufei would shake her off, but he did no such thing. Instead, Lunamaria was surprised to feel him squeeze her hand before his gaze turned back towards the setting sun.

"I hope you're right," he whispered.

….

November 26th, C.E. 73

Sibylle Gardinier was so absorbed in her work that the only hint she got of someone being behind her was when a male voice spoke. "News from back home, Major?"

Sibylle nearly jumped out of her seat in fright. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she looked over her shoulder and saw none other than Heero standing behind her.

"Monsieur Yuy, forgive me," she said, "I didn't even hear you enter the bridge."

Heero simply shrugged. "No need to apologize. I move quietly on instinct alone. Force of habit I picked up in my early days, I'm afraid."

Sibylle was tempted to ask just what those early days might've entailed, but the Gundam pilot likely hadn't sought her out just to speak about his past. "I see."

Heero nodded at her console. "You seemed pretty engrossed in that. Good news or bad?"

Sibylle sighed. "A bit of both. France's southern redoubt continues to be fortified, but fierce fighting still rages in the north. Paris is still in Eurasian Federation hands, but it remains surrounded and losses are mounting. It seems the siege will not be over anytime soon."

The look Heero gave her was somber. "How long do you think your people can hold? Don't sugarcoat it, Major."

Sibylle took a moment to consider the question. "I'm honestly not sure. Brigadier General Neuville's message didn't have many details on existing stockpiles of munitions, rations or spare parts, so forecasting is difficult. If Paris were on the brink of collapse, though, he would've said as much, no doubt in an effort to get Terminal to send the Archangel and Dominion west to lend aid. The fact that he did not suggest to me he's confident that Paris can withstand the siege for the time being. Whether that can be measured in weeks or months, I do not know."

Heero folded his arms, and Sibylle saw his brow furrow in thought. "They're in a tough spot, but if the situation were truly dire, I have to believe that your commanding officer wouldn't have minced words on that front. The fact that he didn't say as much suggests the Brigadier General believes Paris isn't in danger of falling anytime soon. If it was down to weeks or less, he would've indicated that."

Sibylle nodded. "Yes, I suppose that's a logical assessment. He did mention that they're receiving limited help from ZAFT; one of their mobile suits has been conducting hit-and-run strikes on Atlantic Federation forward operating bases and supply depots that have been set up to support the siege of Paris."

Heero raised an eyebrow. "Did he say which unit was making the strikes?"

"One of the transforming prototypes," Sibylle replied, "The crimson aerial assault unit. That one… I believe it's called the Saviour, yes?"

"Correct," Heero confirmed, "So, Athrun's operating in the area… good. He'll keep the Atlantic Federation goons watching the skies in fear for a while."

"I hope it's the last time those goons ever watch the sky," Sibylle hissed bitterly.

Heero regarded her curiously. "Something you want to get off your chest, Major?"

Sibylle took another deep breath in an effort to reassert her composure. "I'm sorry, Monsieur Yuy, but this fight… it's personal for me."

"The Atlantic Federation invaded your homeland," said Heero with what sounded like a note of sympathy, "You can be forgiven for taking that personally."

Sibylle closed her eyes as she imagined the devastation engulfing her home. "I was born and raised in Paris, Monsieur Yuy. Being away while my hometown is suffering under this assault… I feel like I'm abandoning my friends and family."

"That's the last thing anyone can accuse you of doing," Heero reassured her, "You and your team are a crucial link between Terminal, the Eurasian Federation, and the resistance operating inside the Atlantic Federation. The work you're doing here will help eventually end this war and save countless lives, including those of the French people. We all have our part to play in this struggle, and yours is here."

Sibylle forced a smile. "I'll try to remember that, Monsieur Yuy. Thank you."

"Speaking of the resistance within the Atlantic Federation," Heero continued, "that's actually why I came to see you. I need you and your superiors to get a message to them."

Sibylle's eyes widened slightly. "Oh? What do you want to say?"

"Their intel regarding the assault against Moscow was good," he answered, "Not perfect, but it gave us what we needed to help Marshal Barinov's forces defeat the Atlantic Federation army. If they wanted to prove that they're legit, they're on the way to doing that. If they can do Terminal a favor, they'll have sealed the deal in my eyes."

Sibylle nodded as she studied him intently. "What favor would that be?"

"Earlier in the war, when I was cooperating with ZAFT, Chairman Durandal mentioned an organization serving as the true power behind the Atlantic Federation's official government," Heero replied, "He called them LOGOS. Supposedly, they're a conglomeration of armaments manufacturers and other players within the Atlantic Federation's heavy industry sector… and that they're intertwined with Blue Cosmos. At the very least, LOGOS appears to be a major financial backer of Blue Cosmos."

Sibylle suspected she knew where Heero was going with this. "You want the Atlantic Federation resistance to investigate whether or not LOGOS is real and what their ties to Blue Cosmos are?"

"That's part of it," said Heero, "What I'm really after is intel on the leadership of LOGOS and Blue Cosmos. Muruta Azrael was the public face of the latter, but he's gone… well, except for the clone that led the attacks on Berlin and Moscow, but he's just a bit player. Terminal needs to know who's really calling the shots here. What resources they have at their disposal, the disposition of their financial assets, how they might be manipulating the official Atlantic Federation government… and, above all, who within that organization needs to be taken out for LOGOS to be permanently neutralized as a threat."

Sibylle smiled again, and this time it was in a devious manner. "To be taken out by you personally, Monsieur Yuy?"

"The particulars of dealing with them will have to wait until later," Heero answered in neither confirmation or denial, "Right now, I simply want to know who we're really up against here. We've been groping around in the dark for far too long now, and it's time we changed that. If the resistance can deliver the goods, then I'll be open to advocating for a full-fledged alliance between them and Terminal."

Sibylle nodded eagerly. "I'll work up the message and get it sent out immediately, Monsieur Yuy."

The young man actually cracked a small smile at that before turning to leave. "Thank you, Major."

….

"I still can't believe you wanted us to wear the souvenir hats for this," Heero remarked as he guided the black SUV provided by the Eurasian Federation through one of the military checkpoints regulating traffic into the heart of downtown Moscow.

In the passenger seat to the left, Murrue gave him a playful wink. "Come, now, Heero; they were provided by our hosts. It'd be rude to not wear them while we're enjoying ourselves on their dime!"

Heero chuckled. "Fair enough. I suppose they do work well for fighting the cold, even if they're just replicas. I just hope we don't get too many weird looks. I'd prefer not to draw too much attention. It's been a long time since you and I have had an outing like this, after all."

Murrue sighed wistfully. "All too true. Our last date feels like a lifetime ago."

Since the Archangel and Dominion were still at Moscow's outskirts, the drive into the capital had taken some time, with their progress hampered by multiple checkpoints manned by friendly if nervous soldiers. Heero couldn't fault them for the latter; the enemy might have been repulsed, but given just how close a call Moscow had experienced it was more than understandable that the troops protecting it might still be on edge.

At least our hosts were kind enough to provide us with some decent transportation, Heero mused as he savored the SUV's heated seats and air conditioning, I wasn't looking forward to driving out here in one of the open-topped jeeps we keep on the ship. The pre-paid cards and papers getting us through all these checkpoints are nice, too. They really rolled out the red carpet for us… well, as much as they could given what they just went through.

Driving through the outer districts had given Heero and Murrue a good view of the damage that had been caused by the Atlantic Federation army. Even though the assault had been thwarted and the heart of Moscow remained relatively unscathed, the outlying suburbs had taken some hits. They'd seen apartment blocks cratered by rockets, automobiles reduced to charred husks, and much more besides. Nevertheless, Eurasian Federation government was already tackling the cleanup and repair work with remarkable speed, and from what Heero understood the civilian casualty count had remained quite low all things considered.

Now they were well past the districts that had taken the worst of the damage, and downtown Moscow looked downright pristine. The city was actually quite lively, with civilians going about their usual business and not seeming the slightest bit perturbed by the presence of so many soldiers out in public. A light but consistent snowfall had given the metropolis a layer of white powder, and most people were bundled up accordingly.

Heero and Murrue were no exception. Neither of them had dressed up fancily for this date, with the possible exception of the souvenir retro Soviet Union ushankas provided by Marshall Baranov. Both wore dark overcoats and thick black pants, and underneath the jackets were simple sweaters, dark blue for Heero and red for Murrue. Murrue had added a scarlet scarf to her ensemble, but that was really as far as accessories went for either of them.

Despite the rather plainness of their outfits, Heero couldn't help but occasionally glance at Murrue. He was never picky about what she wore; as far as Heero was concerned, she looked good in anything, and today was no exception.

His gaze lingered a bit too long, and Murrue rewarded him with a mischievous smile. "See something you like?"

Heero smirked before returning his focus to the road. "You have to ask?"

"I suppose not," Murrue admitted, and Heero was well aware of how she was eying him hungrily, "The feeling's mutual, in case you were wondering."

"Good to know," Heero replied as they entered Moscow's premier shopping district and started looking for parking, "because I still feel a bit ridiculous with these hats. It's like we just walked off the set of a Cold War period piece."

"That's not a bad thing," Murrue countered, "Those were some of my favorite films growing up. My father got me into them."

Heero looked at her cautiously; Murrue rarely brought up her father these days, and for good reason. "He did?"

Murrue smiled again, though it definitely had a forced feel to it. "Yeah. Our… differences aside, he always did have good taste in movies."

The sudden tension in her frame was impossible to miss, even through the winter coat. Not knowing what to say, Heero settled for taking one hand off the steering wheel and reaching over to take Murrue's in his. She said nothing, but the way she squeezed his hand was all he needed to know he'd made the right call.

Her father has much to answer for, Heero mused bitterly, though I suppose the best revenge would be to just let him rot back in the Atlantic Federation alone…

He didn't know if Murrue's father was still deployed within the Atlantic Federation directly or if he had been moved to a frontline role. Perhaps that was another topic he could ask Major Gardinier to pass on to the resistance within the Atlantic Federation to look into at a later date. Both Murrue and her mother had repeatedly told him that they'd moved on from him, but Heero wasn't quite as willing as they were to let her father fade into obscurity so easily. Not after he'd disowned his own daughter for the 'crime' of going against her superiors and surviving the deathtrap they'd put her in at Alaska.

Heero forced himself to set such thoughts aside. The purpose of this outing wasn't to dredge up unpleasant memories, but to create happy new ones. Above all else, he wanted to see Murrue smile and set her worries aside for a little while, and Heero would do everything in his power to make that a reality.

"This looks like a good spot," he said after a moment as he spotted a rare empty bit of road along the sidewalk that didn't have a 'no parking' sign next to it.

Maneuvering the SUV into position with practiced ease, he shut off the vehicle a moment later. As the two of them got out, a brief breeze whipped up snowflakes while also causing Murrue's long hair to fly wildly. Heero found himself entranced at the sight, especially as fresh snowflakes got caught in her hair. She truly was a lovely woman, and Heero considered himself the luckiest man in this world, in any world, to be with her.

"Goodness, that really caught me off guard," said Murrue as she shivered, "I can't imagine how cold it gets when winter really sets in here."

"Good thing we saved the city when we did," Heero remarked as he held out his arm, "Shall we?"

Murrue smiled as she readily accepted it. "Yes."

They were at one end of a glitzy line of stores, ranging from clothing boutiques to tech shops and everything in between. Apart from soldiers on the street corners, there wasn't so much as a hint of the war to be seen. Shoppers were milling about freely, salespeople were trying to usher customers into their stores, and the overall atmosphere was as casual as one might expect to experience in peacetime. It was a rather jarring experience for Heero, but one look at the excited look in Murrue's eyes was all he needed to accept that they both needed this.

It's been far too long since we've had a chance to unwind, he thought as they started their stroll down the sidewalk, idly window shopping as they went along, and I intend for us to make the most of it.

Heero's Russian was a little rusty, but thankfully he didn't have to rely on it to understand the people around them or to read the various storefront signs. As the capital of the Eurasian Federation, Moscow had embraced the veritable smorgasbord of cultures and languages that came with being the governing center of such a vast state. Heero heard voices speaking not only Russian or English, but Polish, German, Italian, French, Ukrainian, Romanian, Spanish and plenty more. The same went for the multitude of billboards and signs, with each one being translated into multiple languages. The city truly had become a cosmopolitan hub, a place where people from across the Eurasian Federation mixed and mingled freely.

Judging from the beaming smile on his companion's face, Murrue seemed to be reveling in that just as much as she was the simple fact that they finally had a bit of shore leave. Heero couldn't suppress a smile of his own as he watched her gaze dart all over, one moment eyeing up a shop specializing in traditional Russian dress and another practically ogling a boutique carrying the hottest fashions out of Paris. For his part, Heero savored her enthusiasm, happy to simply keep her company as her eyes feasted to their heart's content.

"Anything in particular catching your attention?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh, where do I even start?" she replied, whipping her head back and forth between stores.

"Perhaps by joining us for a drink?" a male voice ventured, one that sounded vaguely familiar to Heero's ears, "I'll wager that the two of you would make for fascinating company."

Both Heero and Murrue turned around to find not just a man behind them, but a woman as well. The couple was dressed similarly to them, with thick and long coats shielding them from the early evening chill. They even wore ushankas, and Heero was surprised to recognize them as souvenir ones identical to those that had been provided to Terminal by Marshall Baranov. Based on their tannish skin tone and the man's voice, Heero pegged them as Iberian in origin, and that was when he suddenly realized where he'd heard that voice from; combat data forwarded to him by Quatre following the raid on Cagliari.

Murrue arched an eyebrow. "Not to be rude, but do we know you?"

"I believe we do, actually," Heero cautiously chimed in as he made his guest, "if only indirectly. Espada One and Two, I presume?"

The Spaniard's eyes widened momentarily before he grinned. "Oh, you're good. Then again, I would expect nothing less from the likes of Heero Yuy."

The woman next to him smiled as well. "It's an honor to finally meet you in person. Who's your lovely companion?"

Murrue folded her arms, clearly wary. "Let's start with your names first, along with how you two found us so quickly after we got here."

The man raised his hands. "Fair enough. I'm Captain Alberto Lopez, flight lead for the Eurasian Federation's Espada Team.

"And I'm Lieutenant Marcella Vasquez," the woman added before smirking at her companion, "Espada Two, charged with keeping this reckless fool alive when he dives into the action."

"As for how we found you that's pretty straightforward," said Alberto, "You see, Marshall Baranov owed me a favor, and I decided to collect. As mobile suit pilots, Marcella and I have naturally been curious about you and were looking for a chance to meet you outside the battlefield. We figured you'd be taking the chance to enjoy a bit of recreation in our fair capital once you completed your repair and resupply efforts. As you no doubt noticed, every major road into the heart of the city is manned by checkpoints, so it was a simple matter to request that the troops manning them give us an update when you were spotted."

Heero's right hand went to the pistol he had tucked away inside his jacket and rested on its grip, ready to draw at a moment's notice. He saw Murrue do the same; even if this was now supposedly friendly territory, neither of them was foolish enough to wander about unarmed. A shootout in the middle of a crowded Moscow shopping district was the last thing Heero wanted, especially not when Terminal was on the cusp of sealing an alliance with the Eurasian Federation, but Murrue's safety came first and foremost. If she was in danger and he had to start a firefight to get her out of harm's way, so be it.

"You're tracking us," Heero growled, "That's not exactly something we take kindly to."

Alberto inclined his head, apparently realizing that he was now treading on dangerous ground. "I understand. Believe me, the last thing either of us want is for any harm to come to you. I sincerely mean it when I say that we only wanted to meet you and grab a drink. Given that you saved our capital, it's the least that we owe you. That being said, if our presence makes you uncomfortable, say the word and we'll leave you in peace."

"Even when we were ordered to sortie against you and your fellow Gundam pilots in battle, we admired your skill and power," Marcella remarked, "We've long hoped to meet the man behind the machine. Now that we're fighting against a common enemy, we believed that this would be a good time to fulfill that desire. Nevertheless, I can sympathize with your wariness… and the protectiveness you have towards your companion. If you cannot trust us right now, we can wait until after we've had another chance to fight side by side with you against the Atlantic Federation."

Heero was on the fence. On the one hand, he was still rather leery about the fact that the two Spaniards had tracked him and Murrue so easily once they'd entered Moscow. On the other, he'd witnessed their bravery and talent during the defense of the city. They'd put their lives on the line to keep Colonel Nazara occupied and out of the equation, allowing Terminal's pilots to deal a crushing blow to the Atlantic Federation army. The two of them had already demonstrated that they were now firm enemies of the Atlantic Federation, and Heero would be lying if he said that he didn't want them fighting by his side in a future campaign. All things considered, they most likely deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Still, Heero turned to Murrue; this was as much her call to make as his. "What do you want to do? Given the way they fought to protect this city, we can probably count them as allies… even if the way they found us so quickly makes me uneasy."

Murrue's brow furrowed in thought for a moment as her gaze went up and down the street before returning to the Spaniards. "One drink… and we pick the establishment."

Alberto nodded before turning to his companion. "I say that's fair. What about you, my dear?"

Marcella smiled warmly. "It is. Luckily for us all, there are quite a few decent places along this road alone. Vigorous shopping does tend to make one thirsty, after all."

Heero was relieved to see Murrue relax somewhat. "Indeed, it does. What say you to the tavern across the street? The one next to that tech store."

"I was going to recommend one a bit further up the road," Alberto noted, "but that one works as well."

"They make a reasonably good sangria," Marcella remarked, "The better of the bartenders should just be starting their shift, if I recall, and it's still early enough to beat the big evening rush. No better time to slake our thirst and get to know each other."

"Lead on, then," said Heero, finally removing his hand from the grip of his sidearm.

"In a moment," Alberto replied, "We'd still like to know who your companion is."

Murrue smiled. "Ah, of course. I'm Murrue Ramius, Captain of the Archangel. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Both Spaniards' eyes widened momentarily before Marcella responded. "The pleasure's all ours, Captain."

Alberto chuckled. "I should've known. Your battleship's nearly as famous as your companion's mobile suit, Captain! I daresay you two are at the top of the Atlantic Federation's shitlist."

Murrue smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Marcella laughed. "As well you should!"

Crossing the street, the four of them soon found themselves before the entrance of a well-appointed establishment. Stepping inside, Heero saw that the place was already quite lively. Many of the booths lining the walls were occupied, as was the bar itself. A dance floor with a finely polished wood floor was set off to one side, along with what looked like a stage for karaoke or live performers. A casual and relaxing tune was currently playing in the background, and Heero suspected that things would pick up soon enough as the night went along.

More importantly than the establishment's furnishings or music, though, was the fact that Heero could see several familiar faces occupying some of the booths. Duo, Trowa, and Quatre had apparently gotten their shore leave scheduled at the same time as Adaline, Lan and Priscilla, with the six of them sharing a table and well into a round of drinks and snacks. Duo was clearly in his element, enrapturing Shemei's subordinates in what Heero suspected was an exaggerated tale regarding their past exploits in the After Colony world. Trowa simply sat back with his arms folded, more than once rolling his eyes at an outlandish claim made by the self-proclaimed God of Death. Heero was pleasantly surprised to see Lan with her arm around Quatre and resting her head against his shoulder; apparently, their relationship had progressed further than he'd realized.

It's good to see Lan enjoying herself, Heero thought, I know she was in a rut for quite some time after her mother was murdered… looks like Quatre was able to bring the spark of life back to her.

Other friends and comrades including some members of the Archangel's bridge crew were present, along with a couple of Murdoch's mechanics. The rest of the current clientele seemed to be a mix of civilians and off-duty Eurasian Federation troops, with the latter enthusiastically treating members of Terminal to beverages. Heero suspected that his friends wouldn't have to pay for a single drink tonight once word of who they were and what they'd done for the city got around.

The bar tender, a grizzled and muscular giant of a man with a long black beard flecked with silver, grinned and waved at Heero's group, with his gaze focusing on the two Spaniards. "Hey, Alberto, Marcella! Welcome back!"

"Hey there, Nicolai," Alberto replied, "Looks like business is booming."

"How are you, you old rascal?" Marcella asked as she strolled over to kiss the barman on his cheek.

Nicolai chuckled jovially. "Keeping myself out of trouble, unlike you two! Who are your new friends?"

"They're some of the people who helped save our hides a few days ago, if you catch my drift," Alberto answered as he gestured at Heero and Murrue, "Suffice to say that if it weren't for them, we would all be dead right now."

The way Nicolai's eyes gleamed as he looked at Heero and Murrue suggested he knew far more than your average civilian bartender would be expected to, and the friendly smile combined with a respectful inclination of his head only reinforced that. "In that case, take whatever booth you want. Your friends' first round is on the house! I'll have one of the girls swing by shortly to get you taken care of."

"Gracias, Nicolai," said Marcella.

The four of them made their way over to a table and settled in, with Murrue looking back and forth between the Spaniards and the barman. "Old friend of yours?"

"You could say that," Alberto replied as he and Marcella sat down across from Heero and Murrue, "Back when Marcella and I were starting out, Nicolai was one of our flight instructors."

"He's got a rather colorful history," Marcella noted with a smirk, "Believe it or not, before he was military, he got busted running an airborne smuggling operation for the Russian mob. He'd normally have been thrown into the slammer for quite a long time, but the government was so impressed with his piloting skill that they offered him a deal. Long story short, he put in his time flying for the Eurasian Federation and then helping new recruits earn their wings. He retired a few years back and took over this establishment as a favor to an old friend who was ready to call it quits."

"The waitresses here are all girls that once got run through his old smuggling operation," Alberto remarked, "He and his buddies worked to get them jobs here instead of what the mob originally had planned for them. Suffice to say that this is a much better alternative compared to their intended fate."

"Awfully kind of him," said Murrue.

Heero's eyes narrowed. "What stops the Russian mob from retaliating? He's right in the heart of their territory."

Alberto laughed. "Hardly! The government finally put their foot down and rounded up their heavy hitters. Nicolai and his buddies gave the police plenty of evidence to work with on the case. The head honchos and big-time muscle are in prison for life, and the remnants fled to Siberia and Vladivostok. The dregs that are left won't touch Nicolai or the girls; the military and the police make sure of that."

Murrue smiled. "That's good. I'm impressed that they were able to crack down so successfully against such a resilient and virulent organization. No matter what the era, organized crime always seems to stick around."

Marcella shrugged. "It's not like Moscow's gotten rid of all its criminals. No society truly can. Actually making a concerted effort to combat them instead of continuing to take the gangsters' bribes does wonders, though. A pity it took the government so long to truly appreciate how horrific of a cancer those bastards were."

"And so many people are better off now that they're a shadow of their former selves," Alberto remarked as a waitress came over to take their orders, "Something else for us to raise a glass to later."

After the waitress left, Marcella eyed Heero and Murrue in curiosity. "I must say, Heero, of all the companions we thought we'd find you with, the Captain of the Archangel wasn't one that either of us were expecting. Are you two… close?"

Heero and Murrue traded brief looks before the Gundam pilot gave his answer. "We've been through a lot together since the last war."

The two Spaniards waited for Heero to elaborate, but he did no such thing. He was still wary about revealing the full extent of their relationship to anyone outside Terminal, even if Alberto and Marcella were supposedly new allies.

"We enjoy each other's company," Murrue added a moment later, smiling at Heero, "Heero's one of the few people I can relax with. Someone I can just be myself with rather than Captain and all that comes with it."

Alberto smiled. "I understand. Rank may come with privileges, but the higher you climb, the more isolated you can become."

"It's good to have someone that you can let your hair down with," Marcella noted, "I imagine the same goes for you, Heero. You might officially just be another combat pilot, but with your reputation… well, I imagine the intimidation factor makes it difficult for others to approach you."

Heero nodded, more than willing to play along with her assumption. "It does."

Alberto chuckled as the waitress returned with their drinks. "Makes sense why you and the Captain would get along, then. One isolated by her position, the other by his combat record… almost a match made in heaven, one might say."

The way both Spaniards looked at Heero and Murrue set him on edge again. Alberto and Marcella both clearly suspected there was something more between the two of them, and Heero found himself fighting his instincts to keep his right hand from going for his gun. How was he supposed to react in a situation like this?

Then Marcella smiled, and Heero realized with a chill that it was no mere suspicion; she and Alberto knew what was going on with him and Murrue. Of course, they did. The way he and Murrue had been acting from the moment they got out of the SUV earlier would've been enough of a clue, and the two Spaniards were clearly quite observant.

Yet, when Marcella spoke again, it was to offer reassurance. "Well, you two should feel more than free to unwind here. Nicolai's place is safe for you; we can both promise you that. Just as we can promise you that, whatever is between you two, Alberto and I will speak of it no more. Either to you, or to anyone else."

"We owe you our lives," Alberto remarked, "Without your timely arrival in the battle, we would all be dead. The least we can do is respect your privacy."

Heero inclined his head in gratitude as he allowed himself to relax again. "Thank you."

Murrue smiled as she raised her glass. "To the people that we can be ourselves with."

Heero, Alberto and Marcella raised their glasses as well; that was a toast all of them could happily drink to. The mood around the table eased considerably, with the quartet passing time with idle chitchat while savoring their drinks. Several more customers began filing into the bar, and the lights eventually dimmed.

"Oh, is it that time already?" Alberto asked.

"You know it, darling," said Marcella as she stood up and held out her hand, "Now, what's a girl got to do to get a dance around here?"

Heero raised an eyebrow. "I'm not hearing any music."

"You will soon enough," said Alberto as he accepted his lover's hand, "Better get a good spot on the dance floor before it gets too crowded."

Murrue turned to Heero, her eyes aglow with excitement. "What do you say, Heero? It's been too long since we've had a chance to cut loose!"

Heero gave her a small smile. "It has. Shall we?"

The two of them stood up and followed the Spaniards out to the dance floor. Heero also caught sight of Quatre and Lan coming out onto the hardwood as well, with the Chinese Coordinator quite eagerly pulling the L4 native along in her wake. Several other couples joined them, and Heero tried to anticipate what would be played. Traditional Russian music? More modern pop hits? His dance experience was in more classical ballroom movements; he wasn't quite as comfortable with a more informal setting like this.

Start "Hooked on a Feeling"

Then the music kicked in, and Heero nearly laughed. All his worrying, and this was what the establishment was going with? He smiled as he saw Murrue hold out her hands to him, and he readily accepted. This? Heero could work with this.

The rest of the bar and its patrons quickly faded into the background. Here and now, there was only him and Murrue, swaying to the music and forgetting the rest of the world.

And Heero wouldn't have had it any other way.

….

Quatre couldn't help but laugh softly as he was treated to the rare sight of Heero actually enjoying himself for once. His fellow Gundam pilot truly had loosened up since coming to the Cosmic Era, and the proof was on display in the form of him dancing with Murrue. This world truly was full of surprises…

…and one of them was apparently irked by his diverted attention.

"Hey, eyes on me, Desert Prince!" Lan chirped as she gently grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards her.

Quatre chuckled before giving her an apologetic smile. "Forgive the lapse, my lady! Now, where were we?"

"That's more like it," Lan purred in his ear as she guided his hands down to her hips.

Quatre's mind flashed back to the club that Lan had taken him to back in Orb, and he was struck by the contrast in venues. The glitz and glimmer along with the pulsing bass that he'd experienced before had its appeal, but this much more relaxed tavern and its easier-going music was much more his speed. Then again, as long as Lan was with him, Quatre would've been quite happy with either.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Duo trying to nudge Trowa into inviting Adaline for a dance, but the L3 native wouldn't bite. He feared that Adaline might take offense, but the redheaded Coordinator only gave him a polite and understanding smile before turning to Priscilla. The two girls quickly took to the dance floor, taking up position next to Quatre and Lan.

Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Didn't see that one coming…"

Lan smiled as she swayed back and forth under his guiding touch. "Adaline and Pris don't dance often, but they can bust a move when the mood strikes! Been too long since any of us got the chance to do so, and we're not going to waste this one."

Quatre smiled as he drew her in closer. "Can't argue with that."

Lan eagerly leaned into him and captured the Desert Prince's lips in a hungry kiss. "Hope you rested up earlier, Quatre, because I'm going to give you a workout tonight… on the dance floor and off it, if you know what I mean!"

Quatre grinned. "Same goes for you."

The pixyish wink she gave him was a promise of the fun to come, and Quatre fully intended to hold her to it.

End "Hooked on a Feeling"

….

"That was fun!" Murrue cheered as she and Heero strolled out of the tavern, "I'm glad we gave those two a chance. It was worth going out on a limb, wouldn't you agree?"

Heero smiled as he offered her his arm. "I would."

Murrue took it eagerly, and the two of them resumed the stroll that had been interrupted earlier by Alberto and Marcella. Both Spaniards had remained at the tavern, bidding Heero and Murrue a fond farewell before returning to the dance floor. The Gundam pilot and Captain of the Archangel had partaken in a few more dances before finishing their drinks and bowing out, but not before Heero had quietly slipped a private contact frequency to Espada One. Now that he had a better feel for the two Eurasian aces, he wanted to be able to communicate with them should they need to coordinate future operations.

We're here to make allies, he reminded himself, and I definitely want to have those two on our side. Their piloting skills are the real deal, and they can provide a more informal take on the Eurasian Federation as a whole should we need to consult with someone outside our current contacts. There's value in having friends spread out across an organization. That's served Eric well with his own spy network, at least.

The sun had dipped a bit lower during the time Heero and Murrue had spent in the tavern, but the shopping district remained brightly lit thanks to both the various store displays and the many lampposts. No one had closed up shop yet, and it looked like the evening shopping crowd had actually picked up considerably. With many more people out and about, it would be easier for Heero and Murrue to lose themselves amongst the masses, though Heero resolved to remain on the lookout for potential tails.

"Any place in particular you'd like to start?" Heero asked his lovely companion.

Murrue shook her head. "Never been to Moscow, and it's been ages since I've gotten to act like a proper tourist pretty much anywhere. Let's just enjoy the walk, shall we?"

"That works for me," Heero replied.

The temperature was dropping as night fell, but there wasn't much wind and the combination of crowds and their own winter attire kept Heero and Murrue relatively warm. Most of the stores they walked past catered to a clientele whose spending habits and budgets were well beyond what the couple could afford, which did make Heero feel a bit self-conscious as he saw so much that he knew Murrue would love but he simply couldn't afford with the funds currently at his disposal. Murrue seemed to pick up on this even though he didn't outwardly show it, though, because she would always turn to him and offer him a reassuring smile before they continued on their merry way.

She really does know me well, Heero mused, far better than anyone else by now…

He knew that the night could've gone by without him buying anything for Murrue and she would've been perfectly happy, but Heero couldn't accept that. He wanted to at least get her something to remember this outing by, although he was having trouble figuring out what that might be. It was only as they came before a jewelry shop that he was struck by inspiration. The establishment wasn't the first of its kind by any means that they'd come across in their walk, but this one stood out from the other by appearing to offer both high-end products and simpler works that were more accessible to more everyday shoppers.

"Come on," he said as he gently pulled her towards the entrance.

Murrue's eyes widened slightly as they stepped inside. "Oh… my goodness."

The interior was quite spacious evening with a throng of evening shoppers, with all the display cases brightly lit. Rings, necklaces, bracelets and more gleamed under the lights, and Heero saw Murrue's face become positively aglow as she beheld the jewelry. She'd usually made it a point to not wear much of it back in Orb, but Heero knew she had a soft spot for it that she liked to indulge every once in a while.

Heero gestured at one of the cases. "Take your pick, and I'll buy it for you."

Murrue shook her head. "Heero, I couldn't…. most of this stuff is way beyond what we can afford, and I don't want you to blow all of your shore leave money on something here."

"I don't mind," Heero reassured her, "It's been far too long since I got the chance to treat you to anything."

Murrue looked like she wanted to protest, but her resolve wilted in the face of Heero's determination to get her a gift. "We'll compromise. You pick something for me, Heero... and make sure it's not going to leave you penniless for the rest of the night. I'll close my eyes while you do it so it'll be a surprise."

Heero couldn't help but chuckle as she did just that. "Much appreciated."

He roamed around the store, eyeing the display cases with the keen focus that he normally reserved for target acquisition. Then again, wasn't this the same thing but in a civilian context? Activities that Heero had normally written off as belonging to 'normal' people actually became much easier for him grasp if he reframed them in his head with an eye towards his military skills. It was a strange way to look at the world, but it had helped Heero slowly but surely adapt to the idea of life outside the battlefield.

Maybe that's part of why Wufei hasn't changed as much as I have, he idly mused as he browsed a selection of earrings, I've been trying to repurpose at least some of my skills and training towards non-combat applications… or I was before this new war kicked off, anyway. Wufei found it even harder to leave the battlefield behind than I did, though, so his mind may truly be stuck where it was during our last war. Something to consider…

He brushed thoughts of the L5 native from his mind; Wufei was an issue to deal with at another time. Several minutes went by as Heero tried to narrow down his selection, and he couldn't help but keep nervously glancing back at Murrue. Sure enough, she was still waiting patiently, and no doubt she would continue to do so for as long as need be, but Heero still felt guilty about how long he was taking.

Then a flash of silver caught his eyes, and he immediately locked onto the source. There it was; a set of earrings composed of two pairs of dangling feathers, each one gleaming in the way that only finely polished silver could. A quick glance at the price made Heero momentarily worry about potentially breaking Murrue's rule regarding cost, but the amount listed was probably the best he'd find in an establishment like this, and Heero did not want to skimp on quality.

Quickly flagging down a staffer, he pointed out his target and handed over his card. The clerk wasted no time in processing his payment, and soon he had a tiny white box with his prize securely inside. Heero strode briskly back to Murrue, with a few patrons scrambling out of the way as they recognized a man on a mission, which Heero most certainly was now.

He gently tapped Murrue's shoulder with one hand while holding up the box before her face with the other. "I'm back. I think you'll like this one."

Heero noticed her breath quickening in excitement, and Murrue audibly gasped as she opened the case, her eyes widening as she beheld the contents. "Heero…"

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment Heero feared that he'd made some kind of mistake. That fear swiftly vanished a moment later, though, as Murrue's face flushed red before she broke out into an absolutely radiant smile.

"These are wonderful!" she cheered, her eyes transfixed upon the glistening feathers, "They're… beautiful! Heero… I… thank you."

Heero smiled. "You're welcome, Murrue."

He watched her look around the store for a moment. "I don't suppose they would mind if I… oh, screw it! Who cares if it's a faux pas?"

Heero arched an eyebrow in confusion. "Murrue?"

He got his answer when he saw her immediately take off her hat and put on the earrings. Doing so earned her a few odd looks from patrons and staff alike, and Heero subsequently surmised that the 'faux pas' Murrue had been referring to was putting on freshly purchased jewelry before even leaving the store it was purchased in. She paid the onlookers no mind, though, and the sets of silver feathers were dangling from her ears just seconds later.

"Well?" she asked him with a playful wink, "What do you think?"

Heero simply smiled again. "They look lovely on you."

Her response to that was to pull him in for a firm kiss right in the middle of the store. When their lips parted, Heero saw more than a few customers and employees of the establishment openly staring at them, with many smiling and giving the couple a thumbs up when they realized they'd been caught.

"Let's lose the audience, shall we?" Murrue purred as she took Heero by the arm and began pulling him towards the exit.

Heero was more than happy to let her take the lead. "Works for me."

They were back outside a few moments later, with Heero taking a second to survey the area while Murrue put her hat back on. "Where to next?"

"Why don't we get away from the crowds for a bit?" Murrue suggested as the couple found themselves trying to maneuver around throngs of shoppers.

Looking down the street, Heero nodded as he caught sight of the Moskva River glistening in the city's evening lights. "I think I know a good place for some fresh air."

Following his gaze, Murrue eagerly nodded. "What are we waiting for?"

They set off at a brisk pace, deftly weaving through the pedestrian traffic with practiced ease. Soon the hustle and bustle of the shopping district was behind them, and the couple made their way out onto a sidewalk that ran along one bank of the river. A finely carved stone railing prevented pedestrians from falling into the frigid water, while ornate lamps from a bygone era provided sublime illumination. The river's flow was a quiet murmur in the background, and Heero found himself breathing a bit easier now that he and Murrue had a bit of space.

Murrue took a deep breath, as if savoring the cool evening air, before gazing out at the gleaming river. "This is lovely. With all the fighting that we've done since leaving Orb, it feels like forever since the last time we could just… stop and enjoy the view, you know?"

Leaning against the railing with her, Heero slid a hand over Murrue's. "I do. Quiet moments like this… they're a precious thing in times of war."

"All the more reason for us to do our best to end this conflict as quickly as possible," Murrue replied with a confident smile, "The road ahead of us won't be easy, but we're on the verge of gaining some powerful new allies. After all this time racing just to react to our foes, I feel like we finally have the wind at our backs."

Heero's optimism was of a more cautious sort. "The coming meeting with the Eurasians is a great opportunity to alter the global balance of power in our favor. We just have to make sure we play our cards right."

Murrue nodded. "We'll go in as prepared as we can be. I know that we can do this."

"Failure's not an option," Heero remarked, "Then again, it never has been for us."

"No, it hasn't," Murrue concurred, "We've always risen to the occasion, though, and I don't intend to break that trend now."

"Neither do I," Heero reassured her.

The two of them looked out over the river in contented silence for a few minutes before Murrue spoke again. "So quiet, so still… it's almost enough to make you forget all about this damn war. I didn't really know what to expect from Moscow; it was never exactly at the top of my list for places I wanted to see. This, though… this is nice. I don't even mind the cold, really. There's something… oh, what's the right word for it… I suppose refreshing about it. Then again, maybe I've just been cooped up inside the ship for too long."

"I was trained to operate in pretty much any environment," Heero noted, "From the blazing heat of the desert to the frigid arctic plains. Even went down to Antarctica once, and that's a whole new level of cold. I suppose if I had to pick one or the other, I'd take the cold. I find it sharpens my senses. Also… it's strange to say, but I've always felt like the cold has a certain purifying element to it. It can purge anything extraneous, whittling you down to your core self. Sorry if that sounds… silly. I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

Murrue leaned against him. "It makes plenty to me."

They enjoyed a few minutes of quietly gazing out over the river, only for it to be interrupted by a sudden cheer and applause. Looking around, Heero saw that a small crowd just a few meters away that had gathered around a young man who was kneeling before a woman. A small open box was in his right hand, revealing a ring. Based on the reaction of the crowd combined with the woman enthusiastically pulling the man to his feet, it wasn't too hard to guess what had just happened.

"Aw, how sweet!" Murrue exclaimed with a warm smile, "They look so happy! I wish them well."

Heero nodded. "As do I."

His gaze lingered upon the ring for a moment before drifting to the lid of the box. Heero recognized the logo; it was the same one that had stood over the entrance of the shop he and Murrue had been in just a little while ago.

Murrue picked up on it, too. "Hey, that symbol… I wonder if he was in the shop at the same time we were?"

"Quite possibly," said Heero, "They look young. I wonder if the attack on the city prompted this."

"War has a way of accelerating certain life decisions," Murrue remarked.

Heero was keenly aware of Murrue's gaze lingering on the newly engaged couple, and it wasn't hard to tell where her mind was going. She said nothing, but Heero knew her well. His mind drifted back to the time he'd spent in the jewelry shop trying to pick out her earrings. He'd felt guilty about making her wait on him then… and Heero realized that he'd been making her wait on him for far more than just a gift.

You've been with her for over two years now, Heero thought, and you've both been to Hell and back together. You trust her with your life, and she feels the same. You know what the next step needs to be.

Heero found himself smiling as his mind drifted back to the conversation that he'd had with Duo back at ZAFT's Diocuia base. The self-proclaimed God of Death could get on his nerves even at the best of times, but even Duo could offer helpful insight every once in a while, and he'd certainly done so back then.

"At the end of the day, we commit to these things because we've found someone whose well-being matters more to us than our own. If they're happy, then we're happy. That's how it is with me and Hilde, and I've seen enough of you and Murrue to know that it's the same with the two of you. It doesn't mean that we completely shelve what we want in life, but that we've merged it with what the women we love want in life."

"What's up, Heero?" Murrue asked.

Having gotten caught up in his own thoughts, Heero belatedly realized that Murrue had been looking at him curiously for some time now; idle smiling wasn't something he was known for, and the love of his life definite knew that. While Heero didn't like hiding things from Murrue, he knew that he'd have to make an exception here. What he had mind now would require time and planning, and he wanted to give it the dedication it deserved.

So, he simply turned to her and continued to smile. "It's nothing. Just enjoying the moment."

The look Murrue gave him suggested that she didn't entirely buy it, but she seemed willing to drop it for the time being. Instead, she smiled as well, and the two of them turned away from the other couple and back towards the Moskva River. Murrue leaned her head against Heero's, and the Gundam pilot savored the combination of her warmth and the cool Russian evening breeze.

"I love you," Heero whispered to her.

Murrue gently pulled Heero's head towards her and tenderly kissed him. "And I love you. I always will."

….

November 27th, C.E. 73

Erica Simmons had just returned to her desk with her customary cup of early afternoon coffee when a chime came from her console. Opening up her workstation, she saw that she had an incoming transmission on a very specific frequency, one that she'd recognize anywhere. Sure enough, as soon as she patched herself in, the face of a certain Gundam pilot appeared on her screen, with the cockpit of his mobile suit serving as the backdrop.

Erica smiled in greeting. "Heero, it's good to see you. Been awhile. How are you and the others holding up?"

"Not too bad," Heero replied, "We're definitely keeping busy."

"So I've heard," Erica remarked, "Berlin, Vienna, Moscow; you've all been on quite the whirlwind European tour. I understand we might have some new friends in our corner soon thanks to your efforts out there."

Heero nodded. "That's our hope. Everything alright back in Orb? The government hasn't started cracking down on Morgenroete yet, have they?"

"Hardly," Erica reassured him, "We're an integral part of Orb's domestic economy, remember? They can't afford to go after us. After the debacle at the Dardanelles, Unato's regime is skating on very thin ice. They've already alienated the military, and the civilian population is not exactly thrilled with them either. Their position's nowhere near secure enough to allow them to go after an economic player as big as Morgenroete, which means they're leaving us alone."

"That's good," said Heero, "What about the civilians under our care that we couldn't take with us? Murrue's mother, other family members of our crews…"

"They're all perfectly safe," Erica gently cut him off, "Our safehouse network remains secure, and we have evacuation measures in place should the worst come to pass. Don't worry about things back here, Heero. Your focus needs to be on the frontline action."

"Fair enough," Heero replied, "The troops loyal to us that remained behind in Orb; what's their status?"

"Biding their time," Erica answered, "Once Lady Cagalli's ready to return, they'll be eager to support her in overthrowing Unato. You can count on that."

"Glad to hear it," said Heero.

Erica leaned forward. "Usually, Eric's the one who reaches out to me and Kisaka for domestic status updates. Not that I mind the changeup, but what's prompted you to reach out this time, Heero?"

"I need a favor," said Heero, "I'm sending a design to you now. I understand that this is probably outside your area of expertise, but I'm hoping you'll know someone who can do the work I need."

Erica couldn't hide her curiosity as a file popped up on her screen. "Oh? This should be interesting."

Opening the file, Erica then smiled once she saw the contents. "Well, now… I never expected you to get into something like this. So, you're finally ready to make the move? It's about damn time!"

"More than overdue to be sure," Heero conceded, "At the very least, I want to lay the groundwork now, though I'm not planning on making the decisive move until we're back in Orb. Given everything that's on your plate, I'm not expecting you to make this a priority project. All I ask is that you find someone who's capable of making this a reality."

Erica grinned. "I've already got someone in mind. She's going to have fun with this, and I guarantee it'll turn out spectacularly."

Heero took a deep breath. "Erica… do you think Murrue will like it?"

Erica laughed heartily. "Are you kidding? Heero, she'll be over the moon for it! I have no doubt of that."

….

Start "Hidden Truth"

At 280 meters in length, the Dromedary looked to casual eyes like any other Mule-class heavy transport. A bulky grey ovoid marred by pockmarks and scrapes from debris hits, vessels of its type were common sights throughout the Earth Sphere. Found in service of powers ranging from the Earth Alliance, the PLANTs and Orb, it was a simple cargo hauler popular with major commercial conglomerates and independent operators alike. As a civilian vessel, her only legally allowed armament was a series of six 75mm rotary cannons, purely for self-defense against the sort of second-hand mobile suits that might be scrounged together by the pirate gangs that lurked amongst the Debris Belt; they'd hardly be a threat against the more formidable frontline units fielded by actual militaries.

However, the Dromedary was no ordinary transport. In fact, Dromedary wasn't her real name, and she wasn't even a transport. The bruised and battered hull was just a hollow shell surrounding the Epicurus, a Nazca-class destroyer whose crew had defected to the Three Ships Alliance during the First Bloody Valentine War. Following that conflict's end, the bulk of its crew had stayed on as the organization morphed into Terminal, who of course was quite keen on keeping as many ships within its covert fleet as possible. Officially, the Epicurus had been declared scrapped, but in truth the vessel had been taken to one of Terminal's newly established hideaways for some serious work. First had come repairs for the serious damage she had taken at the Second Battle of Jachin Due, and following that was a much lengthier project designed to turn her into an infiltration asset. Once her shell had been completed, she was registered as the Dromedary under Pelican Salvage and Shipping, one of many dummy companies that had been established as fronts for Terminal's operations.

At least we can offer a somewhat plausible excuse should we get caught out here, Martin DaCosta thought as he floated near the back of the destroyer's bridge, not wanting to get in the way of the crew, I don't know how long people will buy the 'salvager' claim out here, but at first glance we should pass muster. If anyone tries for a closer inspection, though… well, all bets will be off.

Clad in a black spacesuit, his helmet tucked under his right arm for the time being, Martin's eyes narrowed as he studied the main bridge monitor. Since the Epicurus was completely enclosed within the shell of the Dromedary, the destroyer's main viewports were useless. Navigation was done purely by instruments, with a series of cameras mounted on the outer shell providing visual data. It made Martin feel more than a little tense, but the destroyer's crew had trained vigorously to make up for the handicap this configuration presented, and they were utterly calm as they guided the vessel through the L4 debris field. There was the occasional 'thud' or 'clank' as small bits of scrap peppered the vessel's façade, but nothing that could cause any real damage.

It had taken a bit longer than Martin would've preferred, but the Epicurus was finally within sight of its destination. Looming large on the main monitor was a massive battered cylinder, with entire chunks missing from both it and the giant disk emanating flaring out near one end that had once been the facility's solar panel array and reflector. The Mendel colony hadn't changed at all since Martin had last seen it during the First Bloody Valentine War, and he prayed that was a good omen.

None of the major powers has any reason to take an interest in this place, he told himself, and scrappers long ago picked the juiciest bits of it clean. We're completely alone out here.

That was what he wanted to believe, at least. It was true that the Epicurus had spotted no signs of ZAFT patrols beyond the outermost periphery of the L4 debris field; the bulk of their units in this sector of space were firmly devoted to Armory One's defensive screen, with little more than a few token recon flights occasionally poking their noses around the floating scrap metal. The Epicurus had been forced to take a rather circuitous route in order to steer clear of prying eyes, and that caution had so far paid off, yet Martin's nerves refused to calm. He kept his game face on, but inside he was practically jumping at shadows.

Perhaps Captain Maysa Taha, a willowy woman with deeply tanned skin, light brown eyes and black hair tied up in a bun, could sense Martin's nervousness, for she looked over her shoulder from the command chair and smiled at him. "Ease up, DaCosta. If anyone had a clue we were out here, they would've made their presence known by now. A ship like ours doesn't pose a threat, so patrols from either side would have no compunctions about openly challenging us."

Martin forced a smirk. "Sure… right up until we blow the shell and show them our teeth."

The First Generation Coordinator's eyes narrowed. "If we're forced to do that, then it means our mission is FUBAR. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Martin nodded. "On that, we're in agreement."

Maysa then turned to her crew. "Anything on our scopes?"

"Visual and passive sensors remain clear," one of her officers replied.

"No transmissions of any kind detected, either," another one added, "Just the typical background static."

Maysa scratched her chin in thought. "Let's get our eyes and ears in the main bay to take a look before we bring the ship in."

"Phantom One is standing by," the flight control officer announced.

"Get them out there, then," Maysa ordered, "and have Phantom Two follow. Phantom One will sweep the main bay while Two flies around the colony. After Two's completed a circuit, have them take up position outside the bay. They'll be our lookout in case anyone comes to poke around while we're inside. Phantom One will return to the ship after checking the bay and set up a rotation with Two."

One of the reasons why the Mule-class heavy transport had been chosen as the skin for the Epicurus was that the opening of the main cargo bay lined up perfectly with a Nazca-class destroyer's central hangar exit, allowing the ship to deploy mobile suits while keeping its shell intact. On the main monitor, Martin watched as Phantom One took flight, followed a couple minutes later by Phantom Two. Both suits, at first glance, appeared to be black-painted and slightly larger versions of the ZGMF-LRR704B GINN Long Range Reconnaissance Types, and the two-seater ZAFT unit was indeed the basis for their design. From the exterior, they were almost completely identical to the original schematics, boasting two sensor domes on their shoulders and an enhanced array on their heads. They also carried sniper rifles similar to those of the standard Recon GINN, though these weapons were of a significantly higher caliber than the ones possessed by the regular model.

However, it wasn't their weapons or marginally increased size that set the units flown by Phantom One and Phantom Two apart from their mainline ZAFT counterparts, nor was it the paintjob. No, what distinguished these units was their ability to vanish into thin air, which both did as soon as they cleared the Epicurus. This was, of course, thanks to the fact that these units were both equipped with Mirage Colloid Systems, which was why the mobile suits were larger than their predecessors. Terminal had classified the design as the ZGMF-XLRR708S GINN Specter, and Phantoms One and Two were the prototypes. Both had already proven themselves in conducting long-range scouting and surveillance missions against both the Earth Alliance and ZAFT fleets, and the design was in the process of entering a limited production run. The goal was to have such units spread out amongst Terminal's secret fleet, giving the organization reconnaissance capabilities that were more than a step above those of their foes.

They're Wraiths on the cheap when you get right down to it, Martin mused, though I suppose the word 'cheap' is doing some work there. Bloody expensive pieces of equipment, and they're not even nuclear powered…

The remainder of the mobile suits aboard the Epicurus consisted of four ZGMF-600 GuAIZs. While definite a step or two behind the newer models that had taken the field in the Second Bloody Valentine War, they were still deadly in the right hands, and Martin knew that the pilots assigned to them were seasoned veterans. If it did come to a fight, the Epicurus wouldn't go down quietly.

No fighting was to be had today, though. The seconds turned into minutes, all ticking by in silence as Martin and the bridge crew waited for Phantom One and Two to complete their sweeps. After what felt like an eternity but was likely little more than ten or fifteen minutes, the reports came in.

"Transmission from Phantom One," the flight control officer announced, "The main bay is clear of any contacts. There's some debris strewn about in there, but nothing we can't maneuver around."

"And Phantom Two?" asked Maysa.

"Still waiting… hang on… all clear signal confirmed!" the officer replied after a few seconds of hesitation.

Maysa nodded. "Helm, take us in."

She then looked back at Martin. "DaCosta, you'd best head down to join the insertion team."

"Understood," Martin acknowledged, already making for the exit.

It only took him a few minutes to make his way down to the hangar bay. Boarding a shuttle, he found that the rest of the insertion team was already aboard and checking their gear. Most were former ZAFT Marines, and they were well prepared for an operation like this. A few others were field intelligence officers, a mix of defectors from the Earth Alliance and ZAFT, and rounding out the team were a handful of engineers. The latter would be needed should the insertion team have to get creative with regards to navigating the ruined colony.

"Get yourselves strapped in," he ordered as he headed towards the cockpit, "We'll be taking off shortly."

Entering the cockpit and shutting the door behind him, he settled into a seat behind the copilot. Sure enough, the flight control officer contacted them just a couple minutes later, and the shuttle carefully lined itself up with the hangar exit. After a few seconds of waiting, they were given the green light.

Martin felt a familiar rumbling as the shuttle fired up its main engines. Clearing the destroyer's hangar and then the outer shell's entrance, the craft slowly and carefully made its way towards the looming ruin that was Mendel. Pilot and copilot alike handled the required delicate maneuvering with practiced ease, allowing Martin to relax somewhat. He took a deep breath as the small shuttle passed by countless floating bits of scrap ranging in sizes from smaller than a baseball to larger than an aircraft carrier.

As his duties prior to defection had primarily been focused with ZAFT's ground forces, Martin had naturally missed out on the combat that had reduced the once-thriving L4 community of colonies to the haunted husks that they were now. Even so, word had reached him, Andrew and Aisha regarding the utterly hellish fighting that history would ultimately dub the Battle of Nova. A series of raids launched by ZAFT against the Earth Alliance resource satellite of Nova had rapidly spiraled into sprawling combat raging all across L4. From June 14th to July 12th of the year C.E. 70, the Earth Alliance and ZAFT fleets slugged it out in a brutal contest that spared no thought for any of the civilian habitats in the L4 region. Here was where the bulk of the space forces belonging to the Republic of East Asia were thrown into a crucible and spent, with the shattering losses forever breaking them as a spaceborne power and reducing them to a third-string player behind the Atlantic and Eurasian Federations. Yet the Atlantic and Eurasian armadas had fared little better, and neither had ZAFT's. Nova was eventually claimed by ZAFT, and the bloody rock was moved to L5 where it became the fortress of Boaz. Yet for all its propaganda value as a new bulwark defending the Coordinator homeland, the asteroid was a bitterly won prize, and privately despised by the fleet commanders who had spent the lives of their troops so profligately to take it. That Boaz had fallen to an Earth Alliance nuclear strike near the war's end only served to punctuate the utter futility of the blood shed to claim it in the first place.

Of course, for all that the militaries of both sides had suffered in the Battle of Nova, their misery paled in comparison to the hell that the civilian population went through. No serious thought had ever been given to an evacuation plan until the fighting was literally on their doorsteps, and by then it was far too late. Transports attempting to escape the carnage were just as likely to be accidentally struck by stray particle beams or missiles as they were to be deliberately attacked in attempts to board and seize them, regardless of the protestations of the crews and the refugees they were charged with protecting. Those who sheltered in place were no less safe, for the Earth Alliance sought to turn all the colonies into forward operating bases, and that made them legitimate targets in ZAFT's eyes. Unspoken, but still very much present, was the desire to pay the Alliance back for the Bloody Valentine Tragedy, and therefore most ZAFT fleet officers taking part in the battle hadn't required too much prompting before turning their guns on the colonies. In the end, the civilians were forced to take the perilous flights out as their homes literally crumbled around them, a desperate exodus that had to run the gauntlet between warships, mobile suits and mobile armors determined to blow the absolute shit out of each other.

The results of that dangerous flight were floating around Martin's shuttle now. As much of the debris was from the various transports as it was from the ruined colonies, warships, mobile suits and mobile armors. The Battle of Nova had been an utter bloodbath no matter how one looked at it, so much so that it made the Three Ship's Alliance clash with the Atlantic Federation and ZAFT here later on in the war seem like barely more than a skirmish. Indeed, Martin only caught glimpses of a few bits of debris that looked like it might've been from that second battle, such was the dominance of wreckage and ruin from the older engagement.

Pondering all that devastation as his shuttle crept closer Mendel's cavernous main docking bay entrance, Martin grimly realized that L4's recent history as a battleground had served Chairman Durandal's plans far better than anyone else had comprehended. Although the Earth Alliance had abandoned L4 and essentially left it as free real estate for every scrapper in the Earth Sphere to comb through, the PLANTs using scrap from colonies they had destroyed in the first place as a good portion of the construction materials in their new Armory One colony was something far more sinister than mere recycling. The loss of the L4 colonies remained a sore spot for all the Earth Alliance member states, and the PLANTs claiming their materials to construct a colony of their own just outside the mass grave of the debris field was all too easy to interpret as one giant insult to those whose homes they'd destroyed. It was rubbing salt in the wound on a geopolitical scale, and Chairman Durandal simply had to have known that, or at least had diplomatic advisors telling him that before he and the Supreme Council had made the decision to go ahead with Armory One's construction.

Even in those early days, he surely knew that this would inflame tensions, Martin thought as new pieces of a grand puzzle fell into place in his mind, I can't imagine he didn't know what kind of reaction his scheme would provoke from the Earth Alliance. Even those member states that became wary of the Atlantic Federation following the First Bloody Valentine War would be insulted by such an action… and therefore all the easier to goad into a new war. That bastard… he wanted this war from the moment he took power! Probably even before… how long has he had this all in the planning?

That was, of course, part of why the Epicurus had been dispatched to L4 in the first place. Finding clues as to what Durandal's ultimate scheme entailed meant more than simply piecing together clues from current intelligence reports. If one wanted to understand possible future paths, then one needed first to properly comprehend what had happened in the past. The groundwork for grand ambition and vision was not laid overnight, but rather over the course of many long years. Whatever work Durandal had been involved in at Mendel would provide further insight into the man's mindset both past and present, and hopefully give Terminal a potential roadmap for the Supreme Council Chairman's envisioned future.

"Any updates from Phantom One?" asked the pilot, a brown-eyed and dark-skinned man with closely-shaved black hair in his early thirties named Jervonte Graves.

The copilot, a rather pale woman in her late twenties with bright blue eyes and light orange hair tied in a bun under her helmet named Mirva Lipponen, checked the console and shook her head. "No changes to report. We're clear to proceed."

"Alrighty, then," Jervonte muttered under his breath as he gripped the control yoke tightly, "Let's take her in nice and easy."

It might've seemed a bit pointless taking the shuttle in since the Epicurus was heading into the colony as well, but the much larger vessel wouldn't be able to proceed beyond the main docking bay. The shuttle's much smaller size would be an asset when it came to navigating the dilapidated and crumbling interior passageways, especially they needed to find a way into the heart of the colony in order to accomplish their mission. Flight records from the Freedom and Tallgeese Kai's pursuit of Creuset's GuAIZ into Mendel two years ago had been studied extensively by Martin and his subordinates on the way out to L4, so they already had a rough course plotted out for infiltrating the colony. The Epicurus would remain in the main docking bay, standing by to retrieve them and begin the journey home once they had found what they'd come here for.

Assuming we even recognize what exactly we're supposed to be looking for when we see it, Martin mused with no small amount of concern, I know what Waltfeld and Miss Clyne want, but finding anything that might possess meaningful intel out here… it's a tall order.

As the shuttle passed through the cavernous docking bay, Martin couldn't help but be swept up in a wave of nostalgia. His mind went back to those desperate days of the First Bloody Valentine War's latter campaigns, of the Three Ships Alliance hiding out here while trying to plan their next move while the world's two superpowers fought to utterly annihilate each other. As dire as those days had been, there'd also been a simplicity to them that Martin found himself missing now. Both the Earth Alliance and ZAFT had been out for genocide, so rallying support against them had been pretty straightforward. Now, though, while the Earth Alliance was still very much operating off of its old playbook, ZAFT had evolved into a much more challenging foe. No longer Patrick Zala's machine of slaughter, but an important piece on a chessboard managed by a man possessed of cunning and patience that few in the last war could've hoped to match. Martin had no doubt that whatever Gilbert Durandal's long term plan was, it boded ill for the broader Earth Sphere, but there was a big difference between understanding that in his gut and the difficult labor of compiling hard evidence to back it up. Patrick Zala, by contrast, had made it very easy for the Clyne Faction to make a compelling case against him thanks to his blunt authoritarianism and sheer brutality.

Reaching the end of the docking bay, the shuttle then entered the same passage used by Kira and La Flaga as they'd chased Creuset into the colony's heart. Neither the Earth Alliance or ZAFT had bothered to seal this path, but two more years of decay had left plenty of obstacles for the shuttle to work its way around. Pieces of scrap metal littered the tunnel, with Martin wincing as the craft scraped against some of the larger ones when space got particularly tight. Still, nothing beyond cosmetic damage was suffered, and the shuttle continued its steady progress.

"Any signs of atmosphere?" asked Martin as they neared the colony's central habitation module.

Mirva checked her console. "Readings show life support systems are still online in some parts of the colony, including the core, but it's pretty patchy. The battle between the Three Ships Alliance, Earth Alliance and ZAFT didn't do this place any favors."

"And it was already pretty banged up before that," Jervonte muttered.

"Recommend you and the others don't stray too far," Mirva continued, "According to the combat data from the Freedom and Tallgeese Kai, it looks like Creuset opened up hatches to lure them in without care for proper cycling. There's probably a lot less breathable air inside than there was two years ago."

"We do have to disperse pretty widely to cover all our targets," Martin noted.

"Then watch your time out there," said Jervonte, "I didn't come out here to pick up corpses."

"That makes two of us," Mirva quietly added.

Martin smiled. "We'll be careful."

He watched Mirva enter a series of codes on the console, and the next hatch in sequence opened up. The shuttle slipped through the portal without incident, and the hatch closed behind them. Once it was sealed, the final hatch before them began to open, with the shuttle being mildly buffeted by turbulence as the battered and dilapidated life support systems struggled to cycle atmosphere.

"Lost some good air just there," Mirva remarked, "but it looks like you'll have breathable atmosphere in the main habitation module. It'll be pretty thin, though."

"Keep your helmets on in there," Jervonte advised as he guided the shuttle out into the spacious central module, "No telling how many of these systems are on their last legs."

"Good point," said Martin as he stood up and headed for the exit, "I'm going to make sure the others are ready. Make landing zone Charlie 2 your first drop point."

Mirva raised an eyebrow as she checked the designated point on her console. "Charlie 2? That's out in the residential district; none of the labs are over there. Why is that area included in the search grid?"

"Because someone important once had an apartment out there," Martin answered before shutting the cockpit door behind him.

That someone, he silently added as he recalled the last-minute data transmission he'd received from the Desert Tiger, being Gilbert Durandal.

The shuttle touched down a few minutes later in the middle of the road in front of an apartment complex that was as much of a ruined husk as the rest of the colony. As Martin and two ex-Marines floated out of the craft, he looked upon a four-story façade of cracked concrete and broken windows, all illuminated by old streetlamps that, by some miracle, were still able to draw power from Mendel's main grid.

"Which one do we want, sir?" asked one of the Marines as he readied his rifle.

Martin pulled out a tablet to check his notes before glancing up at the apartment block. "B12. Second floor, should be at the far end of the eastern block."

The first Marine nodded before looking back at his partner. "I'll take point. Perez, watch our six. Sir, stay between us until we're in the apartment."

Martin wasn't about to argue. "Copy that."

As the shuttle took off behind them and headed over to the next landing zone, Martin and the Marines cautiously entered the apartment complex's ground floor. Since Mendel was no longer spinning, that meant the colony's artificial gravity was kaput, so the trio was treated to the surreal sight of everything from trash bins to automobiles floating around them. Passing through a creaking set of doors and turning on their helmet-mounted lights, Martin supposed that the place might've been considered a solidly upper-middle class residential block during its heyday, but it had all gone downhill quickly. Many of the apartment doors were left hanging ajar, and quick peeks inside revealed to Martin domiciles with abandoned personal effects drifting about. Whoever had ultimately ordered the evacuation of Mendel had clearly done so in a hurry, and Martin doubted that the residents had been given more than a few minutes to pack their essentials.

If I recall correctly, Mendel was originally abandoned before the war due to a viral outbreak, he thought as he and the Marines floated up a flight of stairs to the second floor, but ZAFT didn't lose interest so quickly. Eric found intel that suggested the PLANTs had a separate operation going on here well after the main evacuation. Was Durandal part of that operation? No, he couldn't have been, otherwise there's no way he would've been able to place that order for his package through civilian channels; it wouldn't have been deliverable because commercial shippers had stopped running routes to Mendel by then, and therefore we wouldn't have been able to track down the address. Whatever he was involved with out here had to have been running well before the viral outbreak that forced the original evacuation.

That brought Martin back full-circle to Terminal's original dilemma; they still had no idea why Durandal was out here to begin with. The man's scientific background was in genetics and DNA analysis, and there were plenty of programs operating within L5 on perfectly legitimate and prestigious projects in that field. Durandal had been a rising star within L5's scientific community before going into politics, which meant he would've had ample access to the finest university laboratories within the PLANTs. Why, then, had he decided to conduct his work all the way out at L4 instead?

Martin was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn't notice he and the Marines had reached their destination. Unlike so many of the other apartments that they'd passed, B12's door was shut and locked. Of course, that was no problem for the Marines, who attached a small charge to the door before stepping back and blowing it a few seconds later. They then gently shoved the door off its hinges, allowing to float harmlessly past them.

Durandal's old apartment was a marked contrast to many of the others that Martin and the Marines had passed. For starters, there wasn't nearly as much debris floating around it. Unlike the other domiciles, the furniture appeared to be bolted into place, a sensible precaution against loss of gravity but also a headache for any landlord once the tenant moved out. Then again, given how high Durandal had risen since his days at Mendel, Martin doubted that the Chairman was particularly worried about ever getting his security deposit on this place back.

Drifting inside after the Marines had cleared it for potential traps, Martin was struck by how spartan it was. It consisted of little more than a kitchen, a relatively spacious living room, a tiny laundry room, a single bedroom and a bathroom. Even back in his geneticist days, Martin was sure that Durandal could've afforded much better than this. It only served to reinforce the notion that, whatever Durandal had been working on out here, he hadn't wanted to draw attention to it or himself.

"Sir, what are we looking for in here?" asked one of the Marines.

Martin honestly wasn't sure, though he kept that to himself. "Anything Durandal left behind that might provide insight to his past projects. You two, go ahead and wait outside. I shouldn't be too long in here."

The two Marines looked at each other and shrugged before heading out to stand guard at the doorway. Starting at the kitchen, Martin methodically worked his way through each room, his heart sinking as he progressed. Unlike the other tenants, Durandal seemed to have packed up quite a bit more than the bare essentials. Either he'd had some sort of warning before the viral outbreak that had forced the evacuation, or he'd finished his work and pulled out of Mendel before that incident had ever taken place.

"This might be a bust," Martin muttered under his breath as he headed for the bedroom.

There wasn't much for him to work with. The bed was still there, as was a small work desk, while a rotating chair floated nearby. However, the desk itself was barren, and a look under the bed didn't reveal anything. Martin was about to throw in the towel when his gaze drifted towards the closet. The door was left half ajar, and Martin could spot a few small items floating around in there. His curiosity piqued, he went over and poked his head inside.

Most of the items were just random bits of office supplies that Durandal clearly hadn't felt bothered to take with him when he'd moved out. There were a few pencils, a couple stacks of sticky notes, and other assorted objects. Martin was tempted to call it a wash when something caught his eye in the back corner of the closet. Floating there was a notebook. At first glance, it wouldn't have appeared out of place in the possession of any college student or professor. Grabbing it, Martin really didn't expect to find anything of interest, but then he noticed a question that had been scribbled on the front; 'How can mankind find its destiny?'

"Well, it can't hurt to take a look," Martin murmured as he flipped open the notebook, "Let's see what you've got to offer."

It wouldn't take long for Martin to realize that what that humble little notebook had to offer was more than he could've possibly imagined.

End "Hidden Truth"

….

November 28th, C.E. 73

"Been a long time since I busted this out," Heero noted as he adjusted the collar on his uniform.

In the mirror, he caught a glimpse of Murrue smiling appreciatively behind him. "Too long, if you ask me."

Heero chuckled. "I thought you'd say that."

Checking himself over one last time, he then whirled around, with the long blue coat of the Sanc Kingdom dress uniform flapping behind him like a cape. Placing one hand on the hilt of Treize's old sword, Heero struck a swashbuckling pose for Murrue.

"A bit much, perhaps?" he asked with a self-deprecating smirk.

Murrue walked over to him and grabbed him by the collar to pull Heero in for a hungry kiss. "Perfection."

Heero put a hand on her waist. "You might be a bit biased."

Murrue winked. "Just a bit!"

The two of them held each other for a moment, silently taking comfort and bracing themselves for what was to come. Both had done all they could to prepare for today's meeting, and they knew that, but nervousness was still unavoidable.

"We're ready for this," Murrue whispered in his ear.

Heero took a deep breath. "We have to be."

"We know what we want out of this," Murrue remined him, "Partnership with the Eurasian Federation and support against the Atlantic Federation, along with their backing when we take on ZAFT. The first case will be a simple one, while the latter will need a bit more work. We can sell them on it, though."

Heero nodded as he released her and looked out the open washroom door towards their quarters. More specifically, his gaze focused on the closed laptop computer set out on the table.

"We can," he concurred, "although… we do have something of a complication to consider."

Murrue's brow furrowed as she followed Heero's gaze; she knew what he was referring to. "The data we received this morning… from what Eric's been able to review so far, it sounds like it's good. The message that came with it, though, along with the request at the end… that's the real interesting bit.

'Interesting' was something of an understatement. In the wee hours of the morning, Major Gardinier had contacted Heero with a surprising notification; his earlier request for data on LOGOS had already been met and then some. Not only had the underground resistance network within the Atlantic Federation been able to confirm that the secret organization Durandal had mentioned during the Gundam pilots' temporary alliance with him was real, but they'd been able to provide substantial intelligence regarding their assets and activities. Lists of confirmed and suspected members, companies that were linked to them, a rough map of how their influence had spread throughout and corrupted the Atlantic Federation government, and much more besides. Copies of the files had already been forwarded to Andrew Waltfeld and the others up in space, and Eric had burned another set of the data to a drive that he was prepared to offer to the Eurasian Federation as a token of goodwill in their imminent negotiations.

What had really caught Heero and Murrue's attention, though, was an audio recording that had come with the data…

…and the claimed identity of the person who had made it.

….

Earlier that morning…

Whoever recorded this didn't want it to be easily accessed, thought Heero as his fingers raced across the keyboard while Murrue looked on from over his shoulder, I can appreciate the need for security…

While the intelligence in the data files Major Gardinier had forwarded to Terminal had also been encrypted, it hadn't been quite to the same extent as the audio file that had come with it. Cracking the cipher had proven to be no small feat, but Heero was no stranger to challenges such as this. Doctor J had trained him well, after all.

"That should do it," Heero muttered under his breath a few seconds later, "Now, let's see what's our new friends have to say."

"And hope it's worth all the trouble you just went through to hear it in the first place," Murrue added.

Heero nodded before clicking the 'play' icon. There was a brief crackle of static before a female voice began speaking.

"Heero Yuy… if all's gone according to plan, then you've received and decoded my message by now. Let me begin by saying that it's an honor to be working alongside you. Your reputation in our circles is nothing short of extraordinary, and your actions in this new war more than live up to it."

"Someone's trying to lay on the flattery," Murrue remarked.

"For the sake of secrecy and security, I cannot reveal my name," the voice continued, "but I can tell you that I am the leader of the entire resistance movement operating within the Atlantic Federation. I imagine the impression you've had up until now is that we're quite a small organization. Well, let me be the first to assure you that we are far more than that. The intel in the files we've sent you is the result of three years' worth of covert intelligence and investigative work, of gradually expanding from a modest cell into a network that spans the breadth of North America and beyond."

"No small boast, given what they're up against," Heero noted.

"And one made with confidence, but not arrogance," Murrue chimed in, "At least, that's what I'm getting from their tone."

"We are vast and encompass many people," the voice elaborated, "all of whom have seen the atrocities of both this war and the last in one form or another… and all of whom are determined to show the world that we refuse to be the hate-filled monsters that our so-called superiors in our government wish to turn us into."

The larger the group, the more precautions one needs to take to guard against infiltration by a hostile power, Heero mused, Terminal's taken great pains to ensure that we don't learn that lesson the hard way. I can only hope that this resistance group has done the same.

The mysterious female speaker almost seemed to be reading his mind going by her next words. "We are fully aware of how dangerous the size of our group is. However, that size has also proven to be an asset to our work. Our network includes more than just intelligence operatives and infiltrators, but industrial and financial backing sufficient to support an insurgency with mechanized warfare capabilities against the Atlantic Federation government. It has taken a long time to build up the necessary support base, which is one of the reasons why we have remained hidden for so long. I'm well aware of the risk I'm taking in telling you this. Despite my fears, though, you deserve to know this truth. After all, if anyone in the Earth Sphere has proven their determination to stand against those who would have humanity descend into malicious barbarism, it is you."

"She's not wrong about that," Murrue remarked with more than a hint of pride in her voice.

Heero allowed himself a small smile as he looked over his shoulder at her. "Maybe, but I'm hardly the only one who deserves such accolades."

The anonymous speaker then got down to business. "We have managed to covertly turn much of the technical communications industrial complex over to our side. It wasn't even that hard, really. Employees in that sector were being exploited and paid a mere pittance for their labors. Calling them poverty wages would almost be too generous. To convince them to switch their allegiances over to us was a simple as offering them a paycheck good enough to actually live off of. Having so many experts in that field on our payroll has also gone a long way in helping us conceal much of our efforts from prying eyes."

"I didn't realize the wage situation was that bad over in the Atlantic Federation," Heero murmured.

"It seems to have taken a real nosedive since the last time I was back in North America," Murrue concurred, "Sounds like my crew and I dodged more than one bullet when we jumped ship."

"That being said, I haven't sent you this message just to outline our methods for recruiting new allies while remaining in the shadows," the speaker continued, "While I am more than happy to deliver valuable intelligence to you in the name of defeating a common enemy and restoring a sense of justice and sanity to a world gone mad, I will freely admit to a more practical motivation. What I hope for is a trade; knowledge for knowledge, favor for favor."

"Points for honesty, if nothing else," Murrue muttered.

"It's only fair, given what we're asking of them," Heero pointed out.

"As a gesture of good faith, I will lead with some intel of our own," said the female voice, "Much more can be found in the data files that came with this transmission, so consider this more of an overview. The group you inquired about, LOGOS, is very much real, though the world will understandably wish otherwise. They are the true power behind the throne within the Atlantic Federation, if you will. For all that the nation's propaganda networks might claim that North America is still governed as a republic, what elections are held are merely formalities; the fix is in before the campaigns even begin, and that's just the way LOGOS wants it. The organization treats the Atlantic Federation as its prized fiefdom, with its top members holding their own domains within specific parts of the country. A man named Djibril is the head of LOGOS. As if to emphasize his status as the organization's 'king', he keeps an estate not too far from Washington, D.C., so as to better keep his puppet President Copeland on tight strings."

"The information we've compiled for you includes their methods for controlling the Atlantic Federation's official government, and how they're keeping moderates who might otherwise turn our country away from this foolish war on the sidelines," the speaker elaborated, "Some of these methods include blackmail, bribery, and extortion. By far their most insidious and cruel modus operandi, though, is hostage taking. Children are favorite targets for them, and they keep them in a desert camp with barely enough food and water to survive on. Their parents are forced to accept scandals that they might otherwise speak out against, all in the hopes that their children will be spared and someday released."

"How awful…" Murrue whispered.

"No surprise that they'd target children, though," Heero noted grimly, "We saw plenty of that at Lodonia."

"LOGOS's leadership only uses the leaders of the Atlantic Federation puppet government to put on a farce for public consumption," the speaker continued, "For anyone with an eye towards history and politics, it's easy to see through, but the climate of fear that's been engendered here keeps most from acting against it. The American republic is a zombie on their watch. It'd be more accurate to call it an American Reich at this point. The damn Nazis would certainly be proud of it."

Heero saw Murrue ball her hands into fists, and she trembled in furious contempt. "To think my father would continue to serve such monsters… and here I once thought he'd know better if it came to something like this. It seems I didn't know him nearly as well as I once believed I did."

Heero reached over to take her hand while the message played on. "As I'm sure you've noticed, the savagery that so much of the Atlantic Federation military embraced in the last war has continued on as all but official policy. Slaughter of civilians, rape, wanton destruction of non-military targets; the devastation of Berlin is merely a new escalation of that viciousness. In their effort to fill the enlisted ranks with cannon fodder, the top brass has neglected the NCO corps and any other leadership that could keep such atrocities in check. Petty chauvinism also runs rampant, as was demonstrated by the dismissal of all women from the armed forces. In short, LOGOS managed to reduce a once proud republic with a diverse and competent military into nothing more than a bunch of fascistic goosestepping thugs."

She's not wrong, Heero thought, Atlantic Federation tactics always had a brutish edge to them, especially with their preference for overwhelming firepower and numbers rather than any form of finesse or precision. That seems to have been dialed up to eleven in this conflict, even with the reduce fleet sizes thanks to the Treaty of Junius Seven… then again, with all the violations of that treaty that have taken place since its signing, it might as well not even be worth the paper it was signed on.

"However, due to the losses that have been suffered, the recent defeats have begun encouraging people to consider defection and to start digging into the truth behind this wretched state of affairs," the speaker continued, with their tone becoming noticeably more uplifting, "That is where we come in. We have, in an admittedly unexpected turn of events, actually managed to turn a member of LOGOS over to our side. This has already paid dividends, for this member happens to work in the media sector, and thanks to our turning him we've already been able to make an impact through a sudden reduction in the pseudo-scientific propaganda that's been polluting our airwaves for the past several years. It's not enough to completely erase anti-Coordinator sentiment, unfortunately, but we have to start somewhere."

Murrue raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't expecting that. Some good news, at least."

Heero was wary. "If it's true."

The speaker seemed to be reading his mind again. "Of course, I'd understand completely if you think that this is all a trick on the part of said LOGOS member to get us to lower our guard. Believe me, we have considered that possibility amongst many others. I can assure you that his defection is genuine. Although he's at the apex of the Atlantic Federation's assorted media conglomerates, his position was threatened by the fact that his son is a Coordinator. We were able to get his son into our protective custody, thus securing the loyalty of this defector."

"An Atlantic Federation propagandist with a Coordinator son?" Murrue murmured in amazement, "Well, now… I didn't see that one coming."

"Neither did I," Heero admitted, "though stranger things have definitely happened."

"I mentioned earlier that I sought both knowledge and a favor in return for what we've sent you," the speaker continued, "Here is where that comes into play. You must understand that very few people outside our resistance organization know about LOGOS. We make sure that all of our new recruits are briefed on their existence, but outside our own circle knowledge of LOGOS is all but as of nothing. From the way your request was worded, it seems that ZAFT's leadership is aware of the group's existence, and you of course are as well, but those are the few exceptions that so far prove the rule. Well, I would like to change that."

"Here it comes," Heero muttered.

"I understand that you will soon be meeting with the leadership of the Eurasian Federation armed forces and representatives of their government," said the mystery woman, "Such talks will be a delicate matter, and while I would not wish to complicate those negotiations, for the sake of the wider war I fear that is unavoidable. With the intel that we've sent you, I also send a request; that you declare war, not merely upon the Atlantic Federation, but upon LOGOS itself. Secrecy has been their greatest asset. It is in our interests to deprive them of that asset. The world needs to know who has really set this farce of a war into motion. In doing so, it would force them to do away with the superficial pretenses that keep the people believing they still live in a republic. They would have no choice but to crack down, and in doing so they would reveal their true nature for all to see. That repression would in turn serve to alienate much of the populace that's remained indifferent up until now, and it would swell our ranks with new recruits. If LOGOS becomes a threat that anyone can recognize, then it becomes an enemy that anyone with courage and will can fight."

Heero and Murrue shared a troubled look. Getting the Eurasian Federation to declare was on the Atlantic Federation would be easy; in fact, if the rumors surrounding the Parliament in Moscow were any indication, such a declaration would likely come any day now. Convincing them to declare war on LOGOS, though, was an entirely different matter.

They'll have to be convinced of the threat posed by this entity, Heero mused, and the only way to do that will be to share the data that the resistance within the Atlantic Federation has sent to us. After that, it becomes a matter of getting the Eurasians to trust that the resistance is shooting straight here. Given that an army from the Atlantic Federation just tried to torch their capital, getting them to give other people from the same country the benefit of the doubt, even if they're acting in opposition to the regime that ordered the attack, will be no small feat.

"That is the favor I ask," the speaker affirmed, "Declare war on LOGOS. In return, we will give you any and all subsequent intel that we manage to uncover regarding the resources and financial assets at their disposal. It's my hope that our two organizations can work together to take them down. If the terms of this favor require some additional negotiation, I have enclosed an encrypted frequency within this message that you can use to contact me directly. Also, though this is not conditional to the aforementioned favor, I would be most appreciative if, in return for the intelligence included in these files, your organization would be willing to provide us with information regarding the current military and political situation within the PLANTs. As our network is focused on operations within the Atlantic Federation and Earth's surface more broadly, our understanding of internal matters within the PLANTs and ZAFT is sorely lacking. Having a better comprehension of what's going on up in L5 will give us a broader context within which we can plan subsequent actions. I hope to hear from you in the future, Heero Yuy, and I look forward to working with you."

Then came the sign-off line. "With the highest regards…

…The President of the United States of America."

….

Present…

We're in a rather interesting position here, thought Heero as the message from before finished replaying in his head, I wouldn't say that the resistance's request compromises our negotiations with the Eurasian Federation… but it does add a new wrinkle.

From the way Murrue was looking at him, she clearly had a good idea as to what Heero was thinking. "How do you want to handle this? We haven't entered into any binding agreements with the resistance yet, so our options are still open. We could play it safe for now, focus on cooperating with the Eurasians against the Atlantic Federation while making them wary of ZAFT. LOGOS isn't going anywhere anytime soon. As much as I might want to force them out into the open and make their lives difficult, it might be better to come at them later."

Heero considered it for a minute before shaking his head. "LOGOS basically is the Atlantic Federation at this point; we've been at war with them since the surprise attack on Armory One. I'm with the… 'President' on this one. Let's expose them and make them the target that they deserve to be."

Murrue nodded before a wry smile crossed her face. "The 'President'… quite an audacious title for the head of an insurgency."

"An aspiration and promise rolled into one," Heero mused aloud, "It speaks to the desire to tear down the rotten structure that currently stands in North America, and the hope that from the ashes may come a restoration of the old republic. In a way, the resistance is a cross between an insurgency and a government-in-exile, with the twist being that the nation they fight for has been dead for a long time now."

"Dead… or perhaps just in a deep slumber," Murrue remarked, "In a suspended animation of sorts."

Heero shrugged. "As good a way as any to put it."

Murrue shook her head. "Reviving a lost country isn't something that we're equipped to pull off. That's their fight. Our partnership with them needs to be focused on ending this war. If they manage to overthrow the Atlantic Federation government and restore a republic, then good. If not, then they'll at least force the Atlantic Federation to devote resources to fighting against them, which means less firepower will be aimed at us."

"Either way, continued cooperation is in our best interests," said Heero, "Whether or not they're able to overthrow the Atlantic Federation government is a future concern. Our immediate priority is to secure an alliance with the Eurasian Federation. Let's just focus on that for the moment. If we pull that off, then future matters will become much easier to deal with."

Murrue nodded. "Agreed. We should make sure that the Eurasians are aware of LOGOS and let them make their own call on that matter, but right now we need to concentrate on securing a partnership. There's so much that we can gain here. A friendly territory for resupply and to use as a base of operations, potential support for future actions, coordinated campaigns, a media infrastructure to support counter-programming against the Atlantic Federation and the PLANTs… I honestly get a bit dizzy trying to wrap my head around all the possibilities."

"You're not alone in that," Heero replied as he led her towards the door, "Come on, we should get going. The others are probably already down in the hangar, and our guests are due to touch down shortly."

The two of them set a brisk pace, reaching the hangar just a few minutes later. Sure enough, they found Cagalli, Kira, Eric Bristow and Major Gardinier idling off to one side, and the couple rushed over to join them. Everyone was decked out in full dress-uniform regalia, though Heero's ensemble remained the most elaborate.

Cagalli smiled in greeting as Heero and Murrue drew close. "Good timing. They're about to open up the starboard entrance; the chopper's lined up outside for final approach."

"Glad we could make it on time," said Murrue.

Heero turned to Eric. "You got the goods?"

Eric nodded before patting one of the pockets on his uniform. "Data from the Atlantic Federation resistance, our own knowledge on operations and force disposition for both the Earth Alliance and ZAFT, and as much else as I could squeeze in."

Heero's eyes narrowed. "Including the data regarding ZAFT's black ops strike on Home One?"

"Of course," Eric reassured him, "Trust me, Heero; all of our bargaining chips are available. I wouldn't come here unprepared."

"Marshal Baranov will appreciate your thoroughness," Major Gardinier remarked.

Kira sighed. "I know it can't be helped, but I wish Lacus was here. Diplomacy's her strong suite, and no one here's better at it than her. Uhm… no offense."

Murrue gave him a reassuring smile. "None taken."

He's not wrong, Heero mused, Lacus would be a natural for handling these proceedings. Pity she's up in space right now. Oh, well. We'll make do.

Terminal's delegation at the conference had been carefully selected. Murrue was representing the group in an official command capacity, and she would have the authority to enter the organization into any sort of agreement with the Eurasian Federation. Eric Bristow was acting in his role as Terminal's spymaster, and thus was authorized to provide intelligence as the negotiations required. Cagalli was representing the Orb Union as its head of state in exile, with the theoretical authority to commit her own country to accords or treaties. In practice, of course, her official power was meaningless until the Seiran regime was overthrown. Heero was present mainly because of his reputation as Terminal's top pilot, and also because he could lend the delegation an air of intimidation should that prove necessary. As for Kira, he was supposedly acting as Lacus's representative, though unofficially he was really there to provide moral support for Cagalli. Major Gardinier's presence was something of an oddity considering that the Eurasian Federation military would be well-represented in this conference, but as she was acting as liaison between everyone present along with the Atlantic Federation internal resistance her being included in the conference did make at least a degree of sense.

Heero couldn't help but smirk in wry amusement at the situation. "What an odd bunch we make… not the sort you see at your typical diplomatic gatherings."

"War makes for strange allies and unusual coalitions," Major Gardinier pointed out, "Far more eclectic groups than us have gathered around finely polished tables to discuss strategic partnerships and future campaigns."

Eric smiled. "She's not wrong. Besides, is this group really any weirder than the one we put together to end the last war?"

Heero chuckled as he conceded the point. "I suppose that's true enough."

Cagalli took a deep breath. "I feel like I'm standing on eggshells. I've been fighting as a mobile suit pilot since we left Orb... it's strange to be acting as a politician again. Between the two occupations, I'd say the latter's actually the more stressful. Give me a straight up fight any day."

Kira put a hand on her shoulder. "You'll be fine. You're ready for this."

Cagalli forced a smile for her brother. "I hope you're right."

Murrue turned to Major Gardinier. "The Eurasian Federation delegation… it's Marshal Baranov, the Defense Minister, and the Foreign Minister, yes?"

"Correct," Major Gardinier confirmed, "although Marshal Baranov informed me of a last-minute addition; the head of the Navy will be joining us as well."

Heero's eyes narrowed. "That might be a problem."

Kira raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Cagliari," Heero reminded him, "I tore up a good chunk of the Eurasian Federation fleet during the raid there, remember?"

Kira winced. "Oh, right… awkward."

"Is the Navy head the sort that holds a grudge?" asked Eric.

Major Gardinier took a moment to consider the question. "His reputation is that of a consummate professional, so I doubt he'll let any personal feelings get in the way of negotiations. That being said, it'd be best to tread carefully with him."

"We'll keep that in mind," said Murrue.

"Look sharp, everyone," Cagalli chimed in as the hangar's starboard hatch began to slide open, "Here come our guests!"

Heero and the others had to shield their eyes against the harsh rays of the morning sun that assaulted them, and he could only barely make out the silhouette of the sleek black helicopter coming towards them. Thankfully, the aircraft made a smooth entrance, and the hatch started closing behind it almost immediately. The chopper followed the guidance of one of Crew Chief Murdoch's subordinates, eventually touching down at the back of the hangar not too far from Terminal's welcoming committee.

"Any last-minute advice?" asked Murrue.

"Speak frankly," Major Gardinier answered, "The military heads will appreciate it. Not so much the Foreign Minister, but even she should understand that we don't have time for flowery language right now."

Murrue then positioned herself at the front of the group, while Heero moved to stand slightly behind and to the right of her. As a head of state, Cagalli put herself equal to Murrue's position but to the left, while Kira stood respectfully behind her. Eric adjusted himself so that he stood to Heero's right, while Major Gardinier stepped over next to Kira. It all seemed like pointless formality to Heero, but Cagalli had told the group that even such trivial details could be big deals in diplomacy, and he would defer to her expertise.

A door on the chopper's left side slid open, and a group of four Eurasian Federation soldiers stepped out before forming up into two pairs, each flanking the doorway. Then came three men and a woman. Two of the men wore military uniforms, with Heero recognizing the older of the two from briefing files provided by Major Gardinier as Marshall Stepan Baranov. The second was a man that Heero guessed to be in his mid-fifties, not quite as imposing as Marshall Baranov but still possessing a commanding presence. His hair was mostly grey, though there were still a few streaks of black left in it, and his steely light blue eyes had a sharp look to them. He wore a slightly different uniform than Baranov, and Heero guessed that he was the head of the Eurasian Federation Navy.

The other two individuals, a man and a woman, both wore civilian suits rather than military attire. The former looked even older than Baranov, his hair having vanished completely with age, and he walked with the aid of a polished black cane. Still, despite his advancing years, his deep brown eyes had a keen edge to them; senility was still clearly a long way off. As for the woman, she was by far the youngest member of the group, with her hair still mostly dark brown but with a few streaks of grey in it. It was tied up in a simple bun, and was sharply contrasted by her light blue eyes. She projected confidence, though in Heero's eyes it felt a bit forced, and saw her more than once glance at the mobile suits stowed within the hangar with more than a hint of anxiety. Still, that anxiety faded as she and the bald man led their quartet towards Heero and the others; she was all business now.

Murrue spoke when they drew close. "Welcome aboard the Archangel. I'm Captain Murrue Ramius. It's an honor to host you."

Cagalli swiftly followed her lead. "I'm Cagalli Yula Athha, Chief Representative of the Orb Union."

The woman in the suit was the first of her contingent to reply. "A pleasure to meet you both at long last. I'm Karina Czarniecka, Foreign Minister of the Eurasian Federation. I thank you for playing host to us today."

The bald man took that as his cue for an introduction. "I am Vytaras Dereska, Defense Mister of the Eurasian Federation. I must say, I've been looking forward to seeing this ship up close and personal for some time now. She's absolutely magnificent."

Murrue inclined her head. "Thank you, Minister Dereska."

Marshall Baranov then stepped forward, a gregarious smile on his face. "We've spoken before, of course, but it's a pleasure to finally meet you all in the flesh. Marshall Stepan Baranov, head of the Eurasian Federation Army, at your service."

The other officer wasn't nearly as outgoing as Marshall Baranov, but he was at least polite. "Admiral Mykhajlo Stefanovych Babych, commander of the Eurasian Federation Navy, at your service."

Murrue gave them both a curt nod. "We appreciate you joining us today, especially in light of all that you surely have on your plates."

Admiral Babych gave a weary sigh. "War always brings with it a heavy workload."

Marshall Baranov gave his colleague a hearty pat on the back. "Come now, Babych! Don't be such a sourpuss in front of our hosts."

"For what it's worth, I can sympathize, Admiral," Eric chimed in, "Always so much to do every day of conflict and so little time to get it all done."

The Admiral gave him an appreciative nod while eyeing him curiously. "I don't believe we've been introduced yet."

Eric smiled. "Of course, where are my manners? Eric Bristow, chief overseer of Terminal's intelligence operations."

Marshall Baranov raised an eyebrow. "Bristow… 'Wolf of the Far East' Bristow?"

"One and the same," Eric confessed.

The Marshall gave him an approving look. "Your surface campaign in East Asia gave the Earth Alliance no small amount of grief in the last war. Terminal clearly has eye for talent if they were able to poach you from ZAFT."

Eric's smile grew slightly, and it was one that Heero knew well; Shemei's husband drew no small amount of pleasure from scenarios where he could drop a revelation onto an unsuspecting party. "Actually, Marshall, I'm one of the group's founding members. I served the Clyne Faction covertly while I was still officially a part of ZAFT."

Baranov's eyes widened slightly. "While you were Patrick Zala's chief of staff on the Defense Council? My, my… it seems you're no stranger to dangerous games."

"No, I'm not," Eric confirmed before glancing in Heero's direction, "That being said, I'm hardly the only one here that likes to dance along the razor's edge, if you will."

I was wondering when they'd get to me, Heero mused as they gaze of not just Baranov and Babych but the rest of the Eurasian Federation delegation all turned in his direction, I suppose I do make for a rather large elephant in the room, as it were.

Baranov then stepped forward and held out his hand. "Well, I suppose spying while right under Patrick Zala's nose and facing a giant gun capable of wiping out all life on Earth head-on both have a certain element of madness to them, though one significantly more than the other. Yet that madness on both of your parts has saved countless lives. Perhaps the insanity that currently engulfs the world may yet be thwarted by your particular brand of brilliant madness. What say you to that, Heero Yuy?"

Heero met the Marshall halfway and shook his hand. "I think 'brilliant madness' might be the most accurate description of a Gundam pilot's actions that I've ever heard from an outsider. We do seem to straddle that fine line between inspiration and sheer lunacy."

Baranov gave a hearty laugh. "Well said, young man!"

"A pity that it's not just the forces of the Atlantic Federation who have found themselves on the receiving end of your talents," Admiral Babych remarked, giving Heero a steely look.

Heero met the Eurasian Federation naval commander without flinching. "It is, just as it's a pity that others followed the Atlantic Federation into their mad crusade in the first place. Many died that didn't need to, all because leaders who should've known better allowed themselves to be cowed by fear and the cash that comes with weapons contracts. There's still time for us to change the road that we're on, though. I would hope that the cooperation started in the wake of the Berlin tragedy might continue through to the end of this war and beyond."

Kira picked that moment to step in, clearly anxious and eager to head off a confrontation between Heero and Babych. "We can't bring back those that have already been lost, but we can take steps today to ensure that they at least didn't die for nothing. We owe it to them just as much as we do to all those who we still hope to save from this insane war."

Babych gave Kira a curious look. "And you are?"

Kira's eyes widened momentarily, but he recovered quickly. "Oh, sorry! I'm Kira Yamato, pilot of the Freedom."

Baranov studied him thoughtfully. "One of the stolen ZAFT prototypes… and the one that's gained a reputation for merciful precision in combat. Yours is a most unique approach to battle, Kira Yamato."

"Perhaps a naïve one," Babych added sourly.

To his credit, Kira didn't back down. "I know what you would say, Admiral, and I'm not here to argue the merits or downsides of my particular methods of fighting. I'm here to end this war and save as many lives as possible, regardless of what side they're on. It's how I choose to do my part to stop those who would slaughter millions of innocent people in the name of hatred."

"And we greatly appreciate the efforts of both yourself and the rest of Terminal in that endeavor," Foreign Minister Czarniecka cut in, "It is our hope that those efforts can now be joined with the might and resources of the Eurasian Federation in service to that noble end. That is why we've come here today, after all."

Murrue smiled before gesturing to the hangar exit. "Well spoken, Minister Czarniecka. If you and your contingent are ready, we can head to the ship's conference room and begin hammering out the details."

The group followed her, with Defense Minister Dereska ordering the Eurasian Federation soldiers to remain with the helicopter. The trip through the corridors of the Archangel only took a few minutes, and soon enough they were filing into the conference room.

"Our apologies for not being able to meet with you sooner," said Foreign Minister Czarniecka as everyone took their seats, "I'm afraid that affairs of state have become considerably more hectic than usual over the past week or so."

"Having our former allies invade us will have that affect," Defense Minister Dereska noted dryly.

"We take no issue with the delay," Murrue reassured them, "Maintenance and resupply has kept us quite busy, and it's nice to have a chance to catch our collective breath."

"You've certainly earned that much, if nothing else," Marshall Baranov remarked, "How have you found Moscow's hospitality, Captain Ramius?"

Murrue gave him a polite smile. "Your capital is a most welcoming city. I only wish we'd been able to visit under better circumstances."

Foreign Minister Czarniecka smiled as well. "We would be more than happy to play host to Terminal again once this war is over."

"We look forward to that day," Cagalli chimed in, "For now, though, perhaps it would be best to attend to matters at hand."

"Before we do so," said Marshall Baranov as he looked around the table, "I can't help but notice a couple strange absences. While I'm quite happy with pleasant company, I am curious to know where Miss Lacus Clyne and the former ZAFT Field Marshall Andrew Waltfeld are. It is my understanding that both were part of the Three Ships Alliance during the last war, and I fully expected to see them here. The former is not in the employ of the PLANTs, despite what Chairman Durandal's propagandists would have the world believe, and I highly doubt that the latter returned to L5 either given the extent of his betrayal to ZAFT. I can't imagine the new administration being quite as forgiving as they might claim to be on the surface."

Heero's eyes immediately narrowed, and the rest of Terminal's delegation likewise eyed Baranov suspiciously. "You already know that the 'Lacus Clyne' that's been broadcasting on behalf of Chairman Durandal's regime is a fake?"

Baranov chuckled. "Oh, trust me; it wasn't very hard to see through the ruse! Whoever came up with this charade clearly didn't understand the real Lacus Clyne in any sort of capacity. The new stage outfits, for example; they put far too much emphasis on sex appeal. The upper portions in particular hug her chest far too tightly, and in doing so reveal that this doppelganger's… assets, we shall call them… are noticeably larger than those of the genuine article. More to the point, her broadcasts when she's not singing are almost completely devoted to drumming up uncritical and unthinking support for ZAFT's war effort. Anyone who took the time and effort to study the original Lacus Clyne during and before the First Bloody Valentine War would know that such blatant propaganda is completely out of character for her! Her message has always been of embracing our better angels, of coming together in peace and understanding, and in recognizing injustice and evil and taking a stand against it. She would never lower herself to becoming the mouthpiece of a regime."

Looks like Eric's intel was right on the money, Heero mused as he worked to suppress a smile, Baranov really is a fan of hers, and apparently a devoted one at that. We can definitely use that here.

Heero glanced at Murrue, who did smile before addressing Baranov. "You have quite the keen eye, Marshall Baranov. Yes, the 'Lacus Clyne' who's working on behalf of the current administration governing the PLANTs is a fake. The real one never left the Three Ships Alliance after the war, and in fact is one of the founding members of that organization's new incarnation, Terminal. For security reasons, I cannot reveal her current whereabouts, and the same goes for those of Andrew Waltfeld. Rest assured that the two of them are undertaking vital work for Terminal which will go a long way towards both ending this conflict and hopefully stabilizing the Earth Sphere once hostilities are over."

"Even without everything you noted in your earlier observations, Marshall," Eric chimed in, "we could've told you that the 'Lacus Clyne' that's serving Chairman Durandal is indeed a fake, and for a very simple reason; ZAFT black ops forces tried to assassinate the real one shortly after this new war got underway."

The look in the Marshall's eyes suddenly shifted to ice-cold fury. "Explain. Now."

"ZAFT was somehow able to track down a hideaway that we had established following the First Bloody Valentine War," Eric answered, "Lacus Clyne had taken up residence there, as had much of Terminal's leadership. As you might imagine, that residence would therefore be a tempting target should any of our adversaries find it. The attacking force came from two directions; fireteams on foot from inland, though they probably inserted further up the coast, and a squadron of the new-model UMF/SSO-3 ASH underwater/amphibious mobile suits. Those units had only just started production, which means there's no way that third party organizations would've been able to get their hands on them at that point. Only ZAFT had them in their arsenal."

"We have both combat data and security footage that we can provide to back up our claims," Heero added, "I was part of the mobile suit team that intercepted the ASH squadron."

"And I fought with the others to defend the residence itself when the commandos breached the entrance," Murrue remarked, "We got a good look at their gear after we dispatched them. Their weapons and equipment were all standard issue with ZAFT special forces."

"Why on Earth would the Chairman of the PLANTs target one of the Coordinator people's most beloved icons?" asked Foreign Minister Czarniecka.

Defense Minister Dereska sighed in resignation. "I should think the answer to that would be obvious enough; to protect the secret of the imposter."

"That was our conclusion as well," Murrue confirmed.

Admiral Babych shook his head. "Dirty business, but not too surprising. The moment they decided to employ a false idol, they made the real one a target for assassination. While the attempt on Miss Clyne's life is abhorrent, I hope you don't expect that to be enough to sway us into taking on ZAFT along with the Atlantic Federation."

Marshall Baranov shot a glare at his colleague. "Admiral, I expected better of you. If Chairman Durandal is willing to target a figure that's worked so hard to promote peaceful coexistence between Coordinators and Naturals, then it behooves us to consider carefully why he decided to go that route in the first place. Yes, the obvious answer is to protect the secret of the doppelganger, but that in turn raises another question; why did he feel the need to employ a fake songstress in the first place?"

Admiral Babych shrugged. "Most likely to pacify the domestic population once hostilities got underway. We all know the girl's value as a propagandist."

"It's a crude trick, but an effective one," Foreign Minister Czarniecka noted, "All manner of similarly distasteful measures tend to be taken by any state to maintain support from their citizens in times of conflict."

"A valid point, Foreign Minister," Cagalli conceded, "However, I believe there's a factor that you're not considering; that Chairman Durandal wanted this war just as much as the leaders of the Atlantic Federation did, and that he would need an icon to help him sell it to his people."

Heero cast a surreptitious look at Cagalli. He knew what direction she was taking this in, and it was far earlier in the conference than he had expected. Heero had hoped to solidify a partnership with the Eurasians against the Atlantic Federation before trying to talk them into supporting Terminal against ZAFT, but Marshall Baranov's comment regarding Lacus's absence had prematurely steered the conversation towards Chairman Durandal's role in the war. He wasn't comfortable with this deviation from the original plan, yet Heero knew that he'd only draw unwanted attention if he tried to force the conversation's flow back towards the matter of the Atlantic Federation.

Looks like we're doing things in the reverse order of what we'd initially plotted out, he thought with no small measure of trepidation, I suppose we'll just have to adapt and go from there. I hope this doesn't blow up in our faces.

Defense Minister Dereska regarded Cagalli with keen interest. "An intriguing accusation to make, Chief Representative Athha. I'm curious as to how you would come to such a conclusion."

Foreign Minister Czarniecka was more than a little skeptical. "With all due respect, I find the notion incredulous. I can hardly imagine the Supreme Council Chairman of the PLANTs working to set the stage for this Second Bloody Valentine War, especially in light of how the Atlantic Federation opened the conflict with an attempted nuclear strike. The PLANTs and ZAFT were clearly prepared for such an eventuality, but the fact that they felt it necessary to create a device such as the Neutron Stampeder to counter nuclear attacks speaks volumes of the Coordinator people's perfectly valid fear of such strikes in light of what happened in the prior conflict. I highly doubt that the PLANT leadership would welcome a new war with the Atlantic Federation given the very real risks to their colonies. Any responsible head of state would dread such an attack, and I have to imagine that Chairman Durandal would fit that mold as any rational human being would."

Cagalli nodded. "I can understand your skepticism. However, Terminal came into possession of information indicating that Chairman Durandal subtly worked to help set the stage for this war. Actually, the word 'subtly' might be doing a bit of work there."

Admiral Babych's eyes narrowed. "What would this information be?"

Cagalli's gaze shifted to Heero, just as he'd suspected it would. "Heero, you were the one that Chairman Durandal revealed this information to. You'd most likely word it much better than me. Care to take point here?"

Heero nodded. "Of course."

Marshall Baranov eyed him curiously. "Did I hear that right? Not only did Chairman Durandal supposedly work to create the conditions leading to this war, but he said as much to you?"

"Yes and no," Heero replied, "The Chairman spoke of a program that, at first glance, was implemented solely in the name of the PLANTs' geopolitical interests. However, when one analyzes it carefully, it becomes all too clear what its purpose truly was."

"Care to elaborate?" Foreign Minister Czarniecka prompted.

"According to Durandal, Armory One was supposed to be the first colony in what would eventually grow into a new PLANT 'city'," Heero explained, "In other words, Durandal had much more in store for L4 than just a single colony devoted to armaments manufacture; there would've been an entire cluster built to provide support."

Foreign Minister Czarniecka looked flabbergasted. "Let me get this straight… the PLANTs planned for not a single colony, but a full PLANT city worth of them at L4?"

"Yes," Heero confirmed, "Based on your reaction, I trust you've already worked through the potential implications of such a move?"

The Foreign Minister nodded, though despite her efforts to recover her composure she still looked considerably rattled. "I have."

Defense Minister Dereska wasted no time in giving voice to those implications. "An entire PLANT city on the doorstep of L4's graveyard… the outrage that would've ensued from the Earth Alliance would've made the reaction to Armory One's establishment seem like a minor fit in comparison."

"And it would've escalated global tensions significantly," Admiral Babych added as he clasped his hands in front of him, "The Earth Alliance would most likely have deployed a battle group to L4 in response to such an expansionist ploy… which would in turn have prompted a similar move from ZAFT."

Marshall Baranov made the appropriate conclusion. "ZAFT and Alliance warships and mobile suits jockeying over the same stretch of space under such circumstances would've made for an extremely volatile situation. It would've been all too easy for a single mistake to spark a new war… something that Chairman Durandal almost certainly would be smart enough to realize."

"Our thoughts exactly," Eric chimed in, "Now do you understand why Lady Cagalli's willing to make the accusation that Durandal was seeking conflict?"

"Oh, very much so," Foreign Minister Czarniecka replied with a dark look in her eyes, "It certainly adds a new layer to this war. If your accusations against Chairman Durandal are correct, then his administration is hardly the innocent party it's made itself out to be in this war."

Marshall Baranov scratched his chin. "There's something about all of this that puzzles me. Heero Yuy, you said that Chairman Durandal told you about the colony city plan himself, yes? Why would he do such a thing?"

Heero shrugged. "It was our first time speaking privately. Back then, I believe he wanted to win me over to his side. Perhaps he felt that revealing information regarding the colony city program that was to take shape around Armory One would be a good way to earn my trust. An olive branch, if you will. Unfortunately for him, all he really did in providing that information to me was raise my suspicions."

Marshall Baranov chuckled. "Typical politicians… so confident in their speaking abilities, believing that they can sway anyone over to their point of view with the proper rhetoric. So blind to the possibility that even the smoothest words and flattery in their arsenal may fall flat against a determined and wise adversary."

Foreign Minister Czarniecka shot Baranov an irked look. "Some of us have a more realistic appraisal of our abilities and limitations."

Baranov smirked. "Whatever you say, Minister."

"Regardless of Durandal's motivations for revealing this information to you," Admiral Babych chimed in, "the fact remains that he did so in private. That means we only have your word that this conversation ever took place. I have no doubts that the Chairman will deny it should someone bring it up publicly."

"That's to be expected," Murrue remarked, "However, even if he denies the existence of the proposed colony city program, you must admit that simply the act of placing Armory One alone out at L4 could easily be interpreted as a provocative gesture. A colony devoted to the development of advanced prototype weaponry placed so far from the formidable defenses of L5, and with only a relatively light patrol screen? If that's not bait, then I don't know what is."

"Bait that the Atlantic Federation swallowed hook, line and sinker," Eric added.

Foreign Minister Czarniecka frowned. "The Atlantic Federation publicly denied that the force which attacked Armory One belonged to them."

Defense Minister Dereska scowled in her direction. "Come on, Czarniecka; the mobile suits and warships used in that attack, with the exception of the lead ship and a handful of new models, were all standard issue Earth Alliance units. We've already confirmed that we didn't have any forces operating in the area. The attackers were clearly an Atlantic Federation black ops force. Pretending otherwise is stupid."

Czarniecka raised a hand to forestall further chastisement. "I'm not saying that I ever bought the Atlantic Federation's official line regarding the incident. I'm simply stating that it's what they presented to the public. No independent investigation was ever convened to corroborate the claims that the attack was the work of an Atlantic Federation covert unit. Perhaps one would have been established in time, but the commencement of open hostilities shortly thereafter meant that the world had other priorities."

"It's a moot point in any case," Admiral Babych interjected, "While the Eurasian Federation might officially be at war with ZAFT, our engagements with them have been limited. More importantly, they are not the ones currently attempting to burn half of Europe to the ground; the Atlantic Federation is. The Atlantic Federation is the threat that we must concentrate on."

"The Atlantic Federation is the immediate threat, yes," Heero confirmed, "but ZAFT is hardly your friend just because your former ally has turned on you. Look at what limited help they've offered since the Atlantic Federation began their invasion; a handful of sorties from mobile suits operating out of the battleship Minerva and nothing more. That's not even a fraction of a percentage point of the forces that ZAFT has at its disposal in the European theater of war between their bases at Diocuia and Gibraltar. ZAFT has granted you token aid and nothing more."

"Chairman Durandal has no interest in genuinely helping you," Murrue argued, "If he did, ZAFT's reaction to the Atlantic Federation's invasion of Europe would be far more substantial than just a few mobile suits launching periodic hit-and-run strikes. Those are merely a fig leaf. What he really wants is for the Atlantic and Eurasian Federations to exhaust themselves while fighting each other."

"You seem awfully certain of that, Captain Ramius," said Defense Minister Dereska.

"It's the only conclusion that makes sense based on ZAFT's behavior ever since the invasion commenced," Murrue replied.

"Defense Minister, I believe Terminal's points here are valid," Major Gardinier chimed in, "I can understand our initial instinct to reconsider our stance towards ZAFT in light of the Atlantic Federation's assault upon us, but in my professional assessment, I believe that turning to them here would be misguided. At the very least, I would recommend keeping ZAFT at arm's length, at least until we're able to properly discern what their leadership truly wants out of this war."

Foreign Minister Czarniecka folded her arms. "I should think the answer to that would be obvious enough; to ensure their own security."

"Do you really believe that, Minister?" asked Eric, "If the PLANTs were solely concerned with their security, why seize new territory on Earth? The Suez Canal makes sense; it's a vital economic and strategic corridor. What about Diocuia, though? ZAFT already has a formidable base in Europe in the form of Gibraltar, and it's been heavily reinforced since the start of the conflict. ZAFT doesn't have the numbers advantage in this war, meaning they have to be careful about where they position their forces in order to avoid spreading them too thinly. In light of that, taking another base like Diocuia and concentrating the forces that they have there doesn't make much sense. Not as a defensive measure, at least."

Admiral Babych bristled. "You imply that ZAFT is planning their own invasion of continental Europe."

"It's a possibility that can't be ruled out," Cagalli argued, "Both Gibraltar and Diocuia give them firm footholds on the continent, and they now have naval supremacy within the Mediterranean Sea. Between the Straits of Gibraltar and the Suez Canal, they have a stranglehold on one of your most strategically important trade routes. That's an extreme amount of leverage that Chairman Durandal now holds over you, and he can exercise it at any time."

There was a long and rather uncomfortable moment of silence before Marshall Baranov spoke. "All the points that you have raised here… they've been weighing on our strategic considerations for some time now. You are right to worry about ZAFT's future intentions towards us, and we've most certainly noted their half-hearted efforts against the Atlantic Federation's campaign of mass slaughter in Europe. In short, we've already recognized that, while the present circumstances make the Atlantic Federation our most pressing foe, we cannot automatically presume that ZAFT is now our friend."

"That being said, we cannot engage both powers simultaneously," Defense Minister Dereska added, "Thanks in no small part to your help, the Atlantic Federation's thrust against our capital has been thwarted, and we have since been able to shore up our defenses and reinforce the frontline. However, our crisis has not yet passed. The Atlantic Federation's forces still occupy a good chunk of central Europe, particularly along the shores of the Baltic and North Seas. They still have Paris under siege, and while southern France has been turned into a redoubt where we're gathering strength for an eventual counteroffensive, much of the French north is either an open battlefield or under enemy control. Our foes are constantly bringing in reinforcements across the English Channel from staging areas in the British Isles, with Calais and Le Havre being major landing points. In short, we have our hands full."

Murrue nodded. "We understand your predicament, Defense Minister. Your first priority must, of course, be to repel the occupiers of your sovereign territory and protect your people. Terminal would not ask you to divert forces from those vital tasks."

"We appreciate your understanding," Admiral Babych replied, "I would also ask you to understand that, though the aid they've granted us so far has been meager compared to the assistance you've granted us, we're not about to act against ZAFT's raids against the Atlantic Federation invasion force. Even if they only inflict pinpricks on the enemy, every little bit helps."

"Of course," said Eric, "However, there's a major difference between hit-and-run strikes versus forces moving to both attack an enemy and seize ground. Right now, ZAFT's limiting themselves to the former, but their current position and force strength does give them the means to attempt the latter at any time. Your contest with the Atlantic Federation provides an ideal opening for Chairman Durandal to exploit."

Baranov slowly nodded. "You're not wrong. I imagine the only reason why he hasn't sent his troops yet is because he's hoping we'll inflict greater losses on each other first. It would make his own invasion little more than a mop up."

"An unfortunate truth," Defense Minister Dereska conceded, "What intelligence and surveillance assets we can spare have been attempting to monitor the troop buildups at Gibraltar and Diocuia, but the Atlantic Federation invasion's thrown all our prior contingencies out the window. Communications are still a mess, and the front has to be stabilized. For the time being, we must devote the bulk of our reconnaissance efforts to keeping track of Atlantic Federation troop movements. We'll try to keep an eye on ZAFT, but we can't afford to commit more than skeleton units to monitoring them."

Heero, Murrue and Eric all shared a brief look before the former Wolf of the Far East spoke again. "We can provide some useful help on that front. My network of contacts within the PLANTs and ZAFT has been keeping me up to date on the regular orbital reinforcement and supply drops for all of ZAFT's strongpoints on Earth, not just Diocuia and Gibraltar. After this meeting is concluded, I'd be more than happy to forward the most recent intelligence at my disposal to you."

The Eurasian delegation seemed collectively surprised by the offer, with Foreign Minister Czarniecka eventually being the first to formulate a response. "We would be most appreciative of that."

Admiral Babych took a more cautious tone. "Such intel would be most useful, but I have to imagine that you'll want something in return."

Murrue smiled. "As much as we might like to offer it freely as an olive branch, we do have a request of our own. In exchange for both this data and further intelligence that we can provide regarding ZAFT fleet movements and L5's current political situation, we would ask that the Eurasian Federation adopts a policy of strategic ambiguity towards the forces of the PLANTs for the time being."

Defense Minister Dereska was taken aback. "Strategic ambiguity? Not open hostility?"

"You said it yourself; right now, the Eurasian Federation isn't in a position to openly fight both the Atlantic Federation and ZAFT," Murrue pointed out, "While your government might officially be at war with the latter and hasn't yet declared against the former, we all know who your principal foe is at the moment. The Atlantic Federation is your most immediate threat, while ZAFT presents a future threat. As much as we might like a commitment from you to engage ZAFT openly alongside us in the future, for the moment it's enough for us that you simply keep them at arm's length and monitor their forces in the region."

"I believe the Prime Minister would be amenable to such a stance," Foreign Minister Czarniecka interjected, "Parliament is preparing to vote on a declaration of war against the Atlantic Federation. With all the current attention on that matter, our official hostilities with ZAFT have been placed on the backburner. Given the information that you've revealed to us today, I believe it's in the Eurasian Federation's best interest to keep ZAFT at least at arm's length for the time being."

Marshall Baranov concurred. "If they make no moves against us, we will make no moves against them. Not officially, at least. Chairman Durandal is a snake, and I have a strong loathing for his kind. It's not in our interest to fight ZAFT at the moment, but they're hardly trustworthy either, so cooperation or a full-on alliance is out of the question. Simply staying out of each other's way for the time being will suit us well."

Admiral Babych. "That works for the navy as well. Our surviving fleet assets are needed to check the Atlantic Federation naval forces in the event that they attempt to open up new fronts via amphibious landings, not to mention for our eventual counterattack against their current landing operations. We can't afford to split our remaining battle groups between the Atlantic Federation and ZAFT."

That seemed enough to sway Defense Minister Dereska. "That seems like a reasonable approach, at least for the immediate future. Is Terminal likewise intending to focus only on the Atlantic Federation for the time being?"

"We would've liked to, but we don't have that luxury," Heero replied, "Once our stay in Moscow has come to an end, we have business to attend to with Chairman Durandal, or at least with the forces he's allocated to deploy against us."

Defense Minister Dereska blinked in confusion. "Against you? I'd hardly think he would desire open combat with you, the skirmish at Gibraltar notwithstanding."

"What was that about?" Admiral Babych asked in keen interest, "It clearly wasn't an all-out attack on the base; with the firepower at your disposal, you could've devastated Gibraltar with a single shot, yet you did not do so. What were you trying to accomplish with such an engagement?"

"It was a diversion," Heero answered, "I'm afraid I can't say more than that. Suffice to say that it accomplished its intended purpose and leave it there."

Admiral Babych looked like he wanted to press the matter, but he ultimately thought better of it. "Very well, then."

"How do you know that ZAFT is setting aside forces for a confrontation with you?" asked Marshall Baranov.

"We have our sources," Eric answered with a cagey smile, "Let's just keep it at that, shall we?"

Thank you, Quatre, Heero thought as he resisted the urge to smile, I wonder if Durandal's intelligence apparatus has picked up on your hack yet…

Baranov seemed tempted to pry further, but he restrained himself. "If you insist. I can understand not wanting to compromise sources and methods."

"What happens after you've dealt with whatever force ZAFT sends against you?" Foreign Minister Czarniecka inquired.

"Assuming the situation in Europe stabilizes, we'd like to start making our way back east," Murrue replied with a nod to Cagalli, "There are matters we need to attend to back in Orb."

Czarniecka eyed Cagalli curiously. "Ah, yes, I was wondering when we would address the elephant in the room. No disrespected intended, Chief Representative Athha, but at present your title would only seem to have authority in name, not fact. The Seirans are still calling the shots in the Orb Union if I'm not mistaken."

"Their power was gravely weakened following my cousin's death and the destruction of the Orb Union First Fleet at the Dardanelles," Cagalli countered.

Eric leaned forward. "It's true that Unato Seiran is still holding onto rule of the Orb Union, but our contacts within the military and organs of the civilian government are all pointing to the same conclusion; he's on thin ice, and the temperature's rising. The fact that Yuna got the pride of Orb's Navy slaughtered has turned the Seiran family name into mud amongst the armed forces. Domestically, he's seen as nothing more than an obedient lapdog of the Atlantic Federation. Dissatisfaction in both martial and civil circles with his administration is building with each passing day."

"All the ingredients you would need for an Athha restoration," Dereska noted.

"Technically speaking, it wouldn't even be that," Eric argued, "Legally speaking, Cagalli was never removed from her post as Chief Representative. Officially, she is still the head of Orb's government. The Seirans knew that actually ousting her would provoke a sharp backlash from both the military and the broader public, so they instead sought to turn her into a puppet ruler."

"A scheme that we foiled when we got her out of the country," Kira added with a satisfied smile.

"We'd simply be taking the Chief Representative home," said Murrue, "Unato hardly has the authority to deny Cagalli the right to set foot into her own country."

Czarniecka smirked knowingly. "And should he attempt to do just that, he'd almost certainly have a mutiny on his hands."

Dereska's eyes narrowed as he studied Cagalli. "Should your de facto return to power be successful, what stance will the Orb Union take regarding the member states of the Earth Alliance?"

"First of all, we will firmly repudiate the 'partnership' established by the Seirans between our country and the Atlantic Federation," Cagalli answered resolutely, "All forces loyal to the Americans, whether they be official military units or private contractors, will be expelled from our borders. Orb will withdraw completely from the Earth Alliance and reassert its independence on the global stage. For subverting our country's sovereignty and dragging us into their deranged conflict with ZAFT, Orb will have no choice but to declare war against the Atlantic Federation. With the assumption that the Eurasian Federation's stance of open hostility with the Atlantic Federation will remain official by the time I return to Orb, my country will open talks with Moscow regarding mutual assistance and cooperation, both with regards to this conflict and beyond once peace has returned to the Earth Sphere. As I'm sure you're aware, both of our respective nations would stand to benefit greatly from improved cultural, economic and security ties."

Czarniecka clearly liked what she was hearing. "The Foreign Ministry would be more than happy to facilitate such future agreements, and I can all but guarantee the Prime Minister's support."

"What about the Republic of East Asia?" asked Admiral Babych, "From a security standpoint, they could be either a threat or a partner to the Orb Union, and they're a lot closer geographically to you than either us or the Atlantic Federation."

Cagalli's brow furrowed. "That's something I actually wanted to ask you about. You would know better than us what's going on with the Republic of East Asia. Officially, they're at war with ZAFT, but I can't help noticing that their commitments to the conflict have been minimal."

"She's right," said Eric, "What aid they've provided appears to be mostly logistical in nature; leasing transports to the Atlantic Federation, flying supply shipments to forward operating bases, and other such activities. Their actual combat units seem to be sticking close to home."

Baranov chuckled bitterly. "You have Prime Minister Pengfei Peng to thank for that. The man is a cowardly opportunist. He only made such minimal contributions to the Atlantic Federation to keep them off his back."

"If he's simply trying to appease the leading member state of the Earth Alliance, then why hasn't he committed forces to their attack on your country?" asked Heero, "With your military focused in the west, your far eastern flank is vulnerable. The Republic of East Asia could easily make a land grab. If Prime Minister Peng is really the opportunist you paint him as, then I'm surprised he hasn't made such a move already."

"It's true that we've focused the bulk of our military assets out here in the west," Dereska conceded, "but we've always maintained a series of strong fortifications along our eastern borders, and they remain garrisoned. Admittedly, with the recent redeployments, said garrisons are not at full strength; a concentrated assault most assuredly would defeat them. However, they have sufficient firepower to at least contest the attack for a time. Long enough to provide warning and to make any attacker pay in blood for what ground they ultimately gain."

"Like I said, Peng is a coward," Baranov reiterated, "He won't commit to offensive action unless he believes victory is completely guaranteed. I suspect he was waiting for Moscow to be fully destroyed by the Atlantic Federation army before sending in his own troops to seize territory. Since our capital still stands, he remains on the sidelines."

"The Atlantic Federation can't be blind to that," Murrue noted, "While they might state officially that they're acting to restore order with their invasion of your country, I think it's safe to say that the civil disobedience and protests preceding the Atlantic Federation's attack really just gave them an excuse. What they were really after here was to seize your resources so they could commit them fully to their war. The Republic of East Asia has shown a similar reluctance to engage meaningfully in this conflict, so one must assume that the Atlantic Federation is eyeing them with potentially the intent to launch a similar invasion in time. Peng must at least suspect as much."

"A possibility we had considered, Captain Ramius," Babych replied, "The Atlantic Federation's always been the wealthiest member state of the Earth Alliance, and with that wealth came the most powerful conventional military in the world, but even they only have so many troops and mobile suits to go around. It would seem that our foes in Washington D.C. can only afford to fight both ZAFT and the Eurasian Federation at the same time, and thus they're leaving the Republic of East Asia alone. Should they have completely swept us from the board, I imagine they'd be turning their gazes towards Beijing by now if Peng had continued to sit out the invasion."

"Our survival has done Peng a favor," Czarniecka remarked, "He can continue to sit on the fence, and the Atlantic Federation can't go after him without diluting their forces on other fronts. The sniveling rodent can hole up in Beijing for a good while longer, and I doubt he has any inclination to change that."

"So, we probably can't count on any help from him, then," Kira muttered.

"He has zero incentive to get involved on our side," said Heero, "The Eurasian Federation's far eastern regions would be easy for him to seize should he throw in his lot fully with the Atlantic Federation, but the same can't be said in the reverse. If he wanted to take ground in the Atlantic Federation, the Pacific Ocean is in the way. It's not easy to maintain a logistical supply train for an invasion force over such a long distance."

"It shouldn't be about seizing territory, but bringing this damn war to an end!" Kira protested.

Heero shook his head in resignation. "Not everyone's willing to risk everything for the greater good, Kira. Politicians like Peng tend to be the norm rather than the exception. Material self-interest rules their considerations."

"Pragmatism has its perks," Eric conceded in what sounded like begrudging respect, "While everyone else beats the piss out of each other, Peng gets to sit back and preserve his own forces, not to mention his economy and people in general. I suspect the Republic of East Asia will be a much bigger player in world affairs by the time this war's finally over, if only by virtue of them keeping their powder dry."

Murrue sighed. "It sounds like the best we can hope for from them is de facto neutrality, unless the tide swings so sharply in the Atlantic Federation's favor that Peng decides he can now swoop in like a vulture. Of course, if that happens, then we'll all have much bigger things to worry about by then."

"I wouldn't be quite so sure of that," Czarniecka interjected, "Open military support from Peng's government is almost certainly out of the question, but ever since the Atlantic Federation's attack on our capital was repulsed, we've been engaging Beijing in under-the-table talks. It'd be foolish to count on them sending any sort of force to aid us in the field, yet we may well be able to talk them into quietly funneling arms and supplies our way."

"For a price, of course," Baranov sneered with open contempt, "I'm sure Peng's eager to profit off of our struggle for survival."

"If lining Beijing's pockets means we can shore up our own stockpiles so we'll be better prepared for future offensives, it's a small price to pay," Dereska countered.

Babych nodded. "Better that Peng consider it more profitable to do business with both sides than to completely throw in with the Atlantic Federation. It's distasteful, yes, but at least with the former we can get some use out of him."

Cagalli's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "Not what I was hoping for, but I guess that's just how it is. As long as he sits back, it at least means we'll have one less army to go up against. Do you think Peng would be willing to engage in similar talks with me once I've returned to power in Orb? If nothing else, it would be good to at least keep our economic ties intact. We'll need the investment and trade to get back on our feet once the war is over."

"I'm sure Beijing will be more than welcome to opening such talks," Czarniecka replied, "Just don't expect them to go beyond matters of commerce. Given the fickle manner in which they view security treaties, avoiding any sort of military agreement with them in the first place is probably for the best."

"Duly noted," Cagalli dryly quipped.

"Provided our front remains stable and the Atlantic Federation doesn't get into a position to make another push on Moscow, we can probably count the Republic of East Asia out for the remainder of this war," said Dereska, "That leaves the enemy to the west as still the most immediate concern, and it's high time we addressed them."

Murrue nodded. "Agreed. I assume Moscow's objective after shoring up your defenses will be to drive the Atlantic Federation army out of your territory, but what comes beyond that? Even with the losses they've suffered, the Atlantic Federations manpower reserves remain formidable. It would take them time after being repulsed, but I have no doubt that they would eventually return with a larger invasion force in the future."

Babych grimly concurred. "All the conditions would be in place for it. Their navy still rules over the Atlantic Ocean, which leaves their supply lines intact. They also possess air superiority from their side of the English Channel onward. Combine that with the fact that their major production centers for everything needed to wage war remain well beyond our reach, and they have everything they need to assemble another army for round two."

"And that's assuming we're able to survive round one," Czarniecka remarked somberly, "Yes, our capital remains standing, and we've inflicted major losses on our foe thanks in no small part to Terminal's timely assistance, but the enemy retains a foothold in continental Europe. The territory they hold provides an ideal staging ground for another offensive. Even if those two Destroys that were taken out in the Battle of Moscow were the last of those machines that we know of in the European theater of operations, the Atlantic Federation can probably marshal enough by way of conventional units to make up for the loss of those giant monstrosities."

"Which means we must find some way to disrupt the Atlantic Federation's logistical capabilities if we're to eventually force them to the negotiating table," Baranov declared, "As long as those in Washington D.C. believe that they have the means to mount fresh assaults indefinitely, then this war will not end."

Dereska sighed. "They're constantly sending new sea and air supply convoys across the Atlantic Ocean. We need to disrupt those shipments, but that's far easier said than done. Despite the naval losses they've suffered out here, particularly at the Dardanelles, the Atlantic Federation still maintains a powerful fleet presence to both support their landing operations and keep our own battle groups from conducting major sorties."

Heero's brow furrowed as he considered the dilemma. "If the enemy's Atlantic Fleet were to suffer significant additional losses, would the Eurasian Federation Navy be able to deploy some of its assets for raiding the trans-Atlantic supply shipments?"

"If those losses were substantial, possibly," Babych replied, "With the loss of our Mediterranean Fleet, our remaining naval assets in this theater of the war are the Baltic, North Sea and Atlantic Fleets. They've fared better than our ground forces over the course of the Atlantic Federation's invasion, but only because the enemy has focused so much of their attention on continental conquest. Even then, they're still carefully monitoring our fleet assets and have the numbers needed to disrupt attempts at coordinated naval actions. Skirmishes between our flotillas and theirs have been common place, and any attempt to break out into the Atlantic for supply interdiction at this moment would be doomed to fail."

"If I recall correctly, Terminal was able to decimate the Atlantic Federation's Pacific Fleet at the start of this war," Dereska chimed in, "You hit their fleet units in the field as well as their major naval bases at Pearl Harbor and San Diego. Would you be up for a repeat performance?"

Heero turned to Murrue, who scratched her chin as she considered the proposal. "Possibly. Where are their main naval bases out here?"

"Devonport, Portsmouth and Clyde are the most prominent this side of the Atlantic," Babych answered.

"All former facilities of the British Royal Navy," Eric noted.

"One and the same," Babych confirmed with a note of bitterness, "A pity that the United Kingdom became part of the Atlantic Federation rather than join us in Eurasia. It's given the enemy prime real estate for their campaign against us."

"But it also presents targets that are well within our strike range," said Heero, "We can take out any ships in port, but our main focus should actually be the fleet repair drydocks. We neutralize those, and maintaining their warships in this region will become an utter nightmare for the Atlantic Federation."

Murrue smiled. "We can begin drawing up attack plans as soon as the meeting here is concluded."

"There might be a problem," Cagalli cautiously interjected, "All three facilities will be well defended. If we want to inflict maximum damage on the facilities while simultaneously contending with those defenses, then we can only hit two of those bases at a time rather than all three. Our mobile suits would be spread too thin otherwise, and we wouldn't be able to inflict major damage before the enemy could effectively scramble and drive us out."

"Cagalli's right," said Kira, "I know that we're good, but even we have our limits."

"Of those three named bases, which two would you consider to be the greatest threats?" asked Heero.

Babych took a moment to carefully weigh his answer. "Devonport and Portsmouth are vital links in the supply chain for the Atlantic Federation's invasion of Europe. However, Clyde's position at Faslane on the Gare Loch is extremely useful for the naval elements protecting supply convoys in the Atlantic Ocean. Much of the enemy's carrier strength on this side of the Atlantic is based out of there as well, and the aerial mobile suits aboard those vessels are vital for protecting transport aircraft. All three make for vitally important targets, but if we have to narrow it down to two… Portsmouth and Clyde. The former gets heavier traffic then Devonport when it comes to supporting the invasion, while the latter is crucial to supply shipment protection on this side of the Atlantic. Squadrons based out of Clyde have also been vital to the Atlantic Federation's efforts to bottle up our North and Baltic Fleets. If you're willing to launch this operation, then I would ask that you make those two bases your targets."

"Once we've contended with the force ZAFT intends to use against us, we'll do just that," Murrue assured the Admiral.

"Considering all that Terminal's already done for us, I think it would be poor manners for us to leave that operation entirely in your hands," Dereska interjected, "Our own forces might be focused primarily on repulsing the invasion, but we can spare units to assist in the attacks."

"It might be better if those units provide that assistance in an indirect manner," Eric suggested, "Perhaps in drawing away some of the outlying patrols guarding the target facilities to better mask our own approach."

"Would that be feasible, Admiral?" Czarniecka asked.

Babych nodded. "It would be difficult to put together a force of sufficient size to act as a convincing diversion, but not impossible. Give me time, and I can put together a carrier strike force that would be able to accomplish the task."

"You'll have time aplenty," Murrue promised him, "As was noted earlier, we have separate matters to attend to before such a strike can take place. We would, of course, give you ample warning before launching our operation. Careful coordination will be the key to success."

"I'll help facilitate that coordination to the best of my ability," Major Gardinier added.

"Then we'll lay the groundwork and keep that force at the ready for when the time comes," said Babych.

"Our first true joint operation," Baranov remarked with a satisfied smile, "and hopefully not the last."

"We'd certainly be open to other such missions," said Eric, "Establishing a framework for just that sort of cooperation is part of why we're here, after all."

"Of course," said Czarniecka, "Beyond mutual support on the battlefield and coordinated operations, what else would you be seeking from us?"

"Freedom to traverse Eurasian Federation territory would be a good place to start," Murrue replied, "along with being able to dock at ports under your control for resupply should the need arise."

Dereska nodded. "Both of those favors would be easy enough for us to grant. In exchange for them, though, we would like for you to forward any data you acquire out in the field regarding troop movements from either the Atlantic Federation or ZAFT."

"You want us to act as an extra bit of recon for you, basically," Eric remarked.

"One can never have too many eyes and ears out in the field," Baranov argued.

"It's a simple condition for us to meet," said Murrue, "Whenever we have our pilots conduct patrols, we can compile their reports and then send them to you via Major Gardinier."

The French officer nodded. "My team can work such a task into our duties."

Eric leaned forward. "Information sharing runs both ways. If you detect any significant movements of Atlantic Federation or ZAFT formations, or potential buildups preluding a new offensive, we'd like to be notified as quickly as possible."

Czarniecka inclined her head. "That's reasonable."

"Quite so," Dereska concurred, "There is another favor that we would ask, though."

Heero eyed the Defense Minister warily. "That being?"

"If the enemy, whether it be the Atlantic Federation or ZAFT, makes another major push that our forces cannot repel on their own, we wish to be able to call upon you for aid," Dereska answered, "We understand that Terminal has its own operations that you wish to conduct, and we would not seek to interfere with them, but the fact remains that your organization can bring an incredible amount of firepower to bear on any engagement in remarkably swift fashion. In short, your mobile suits make for an ideal rapid response force. I will be blunt in saying that we wish to exploit that to our advantage."

"Our capacity to grant such a favor would be heavily influenced by where we're at in the Earth Sphere at the time that you call us for that aid," Heero noted, "Europe may be the big hotspot in this war at the moment, but we can't stay out here forever. If you find yourself in a crisis while we're on the opposite side of the planet or in outer space, the help we'd be able to grant would be limited to our fastest mobile suits, or whichever ones we can spare if we're in the middle of an operation."

"Which might not be any if we're engaged in combat," Murrue added.

Dereska inclined his head. "Of course, we do understand such constraints. What we would ask is that any aid possible be given should circumstances grow dire enough, and that it be given as soon as your own situation allows."

Murrue took a deep breath and cast a glance at Heero. She was clearly uneasy, and so was Heero. What the Eurasians were asking wasn't unanticipated, but it did present a wrinkle nonetheless. Was Terminal really in a position to honor such a commitment if they made it? True, Dereska had been reasonable enough in his expectations, but this was still a big leap for Terminal to take.

Alliances are all about give and take, Heero thought, and if this is a 'give' that's required of Terminal to secure this partnership… we may not have a choice here.

So, he gave Murrue a small and almost imperceptible nod, which prompted her to address Dereska. "Very well, Defense Minister. Should the Eurasian Federation require Terminal's aid under dire circumstances, we will make all possible efforts to deploy as a rapid response force."

Dereska bowed his head deeply, clearly cognizant of the gravity of his request and the risk that Terminal was taking in committing themselves to honoring it. "You have our most profound gratitude. Rest assured that we will not take that commitment lightly, and we will only call upon you for such a task if our needs become truly desperate."

Hopefully we haven't bitten off more than we can chew, Heero mused as he traded covert glances with Eric, I suppose we're in this alliance for keeps now.

"As soon as this meeting is concluded," Dereska continued, "I will be sending out new standing orders to all of our major bases and port facilities; should any vessel, aircraft or mobile suit broadcasting an IFF belonging to your forces request permission to land or dock, that permission is to be granted. All possible efforts will be made to provide whatever logistical and material support you require."

Murrue smiled and nodded politely. "We greatly appreciate that, Defense Minister."

Heero resisted the urge to smile. Terminal having access to the Eurasian Federation's facilities for resupply and repairs was a major win. It would go a long way towards easing up their logistical situation. From the moment they'd left the Orb Union, the Archangel and Dominion were dependent on the supplies that they carried alone, with their only friendly port of call being the hidden docks maintained by Morgenroete back in Orb. Both warships had been fully stocked in preparation of a prolonged campaign, but the rapid escalation of the conflict had prompted no small amount of concern that their munitions might be exhausted sooner than originally anticipated. Now that they could count on the Eurasian Federation's network of bases and supply depots for support, Terminal's strategic situation and ability to maintain their present campaign became much more secure.

Baranov smiled as well. "A pity we don't have any wine handy, for I'd say this is an occasion worthy of a toast. An alliance between Terminal and the Eurasian Federation against the Atlantic Federation and, implicitly, against ZAFT? That's a united front for the history books right there!"

"Perhaps we can all share a bottle following tomorrow's joint declarations of war and secession," Czarniecka suggested.

Eric leaned forward. "You're going all in, then? Not just declaring war against the Atlantic Federation, but fully withdrawing from the Earth Alliance as well?"

"We must," Dereska confirmed, "The most powerful state in the Earth Alliance has attacked an erstwhile ally, namely us. The mutual security and economic pacts that the Earth Alliance was built upon clearly no longer serve us. Come tomorrow, the global balance of power will look very different than it was before the Atlantic Federation commenced their invasion."

Murrue caught Heero's eye, and he knew it was time to roll the dice. The Eurasians had proven to be reasonable so far, but what he was about to put before them next would test the limits of their trust. He could only hope that they'd hear him out to the end.

"Before your Parliament issues that declaration of war against the Atlantic Federation," said Heero as his eyes narrowed, "there is another party that's worthy of such a declaration, and I'm not referring to ZAFT."

Let's put all of our cards on the table…

….

We knew that we'd be taking a gamble here, Murrue thought as she studied the faces of the Eurasian delegation's members carefully, but with the intel provided to us by the resistance, we owe it to them to at least try to fulfill our end of the bargain. I just hope this isn't a bridge too far…

To their credit, the Eurasians had at least listened to Heero in focused silence as he'd outlined the threat posed by LOGOS and their control over the Atlantic Federation. In fact, the more that Murrue observed them, the more she realized that they didn't seem anywhere near as skeptical or surprised as she'd originally expected them to be. It was almost as if…

No… that can't be right… can it?

When Heero wrapped up and took in the reaction of his audience, his mind seemed to go in the same direction as Murrue's, for his next words gave voice to her suspicions. "This information… it's not entirely new to you, isn't it?"

Dereska nodded. "We've had our suspicions for quite some time now, but we'd lacked outside sources for confirmation."

"Blue Cosmos driving the ideological stance of the Atlantic Federation was always obvious for anyone who cared to look closely enough," said Czarniecka, "The real mystery was where a previously small group like them had gained the financial backing required to enter big-league politics, as it were. Sure, the organization has always had private donors, several of which are in high places, but that alone wasn't enough to explain the degree of influence that they've come to wield. A group of industrialists and profiteers providing the necessary support definitely makes sense."

"It's the missing piece for a theory that we've been operating under," Baranov chimed in.

Babych's brow furrowed. "Even so, we must question our sources here. One's from a supposed oppositional faction within the Atlantic Federation, and the other is the PLANT Supreme Council Chairman himself. We cannot consider either party to be truly neutral and objective in this matter."

"Their objectivity is no factor here," Eric argued, "The fact that the information comes from such disparate sources but points towards the same conclusion works in its favor. Why would both Chairman Durandal and the North American resistance lie about something like this?"

"Believe me, we've had our reservations regarding this information as well," said Murrue, "We won't ask you to simply take our word on the matter. Eric's in possession of all the evidence for the existence of LOGOS that was forwarded to us by the North American resistance. We would be more than happy to provide copies of the files to you for your own analysis."

Dereska nodded. "We would be most appreciative of that. I cannot commit to honoring your request regarding LOGOS now, but after we've had a chance to review the data… if the case it presents is compelling enough, we can present it to the Prime Minister tomorrow before the final declaration's drafted and the voting begins."

Murrue smiled politely. "That's all we can ask, Defense Minister."

She surreptitiously glanced at Heero, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod in acknowledgement. They'd done their part; the ball was now in the Eurasian Federation's court.

I just hope that the data's enough to convince them to take this leap, thought Murrue, I don't know what else any of us could say to sway them. Perhaps Lacus would have a stirring speech ready, but she's not here right now.

It's in the hands of fate now…

….

November 29th, C.E 73

One would normally only find the briefing room of the Archangel to be packed when there was an upcoming mission, but no sorties were scheduled today. Yet the room was damn near filled to capacity, with all eyes glued to the main monitor. The screen was patched into a Eurasian Federation news outlet currently broadcasting a live feed from the Parliament, and the tension within Moscow's seat of power mirrored that within the briefing room.

So much ceremony and procedure, Heero silently fumed, just to get to the business of the day. One would think such a serious agenda might merit more urgency, but they're sure taking their sweet time.

He wasn't the only one miffed at the slow pace of things; to his right, Murrue tapped her fingers on her knee in growing impatience. "How many speeches will they make before they get to the announcement that actually matters?"

A bit further down the front row, Major Gardinier sighed. "Having had the displeasure of observing Parliamentary sessions before, I can only say that this is unfortunately par for the course."

Cagalli nodded in reluctant concurrence. "It's like this back in the Orb Union, too. Always an insistence on sticking strictly to proper protocol, even when it slows things down to a snail's pace. You have no idea how hard I've had to fight just to keep myself from nodding off during sessions."

Kira shook his head. "How do you put up with it? I'd probably go insane."

Cagalli chuckled bitterly. "Duty. It's a real drag sometimes."

"Reminds me of the congressional sessions my father sometimes took me to back in the Atlantic Federation," Flay remarked with a sympathetic note, "I tried to take them seriously for his sake, but they always bored me out of my mind."

Yzak winced. "Mom tried to do something similar with me once. The individual PLANT colonies have their own local governing councils that citizens are allowed to sit in on, and she dragged me to one. Said it was good for my civic education. I think I nearly fell asleep twice before she finally threw in the towel and let me head home early. Not a fun day."

"She tried to get you to follow her into politics before you signed up for ZAFT, right?" Dearka chimed in.

Yzak nodded. "Yeah. Good thing I was able to talk her out of it. I'll take the battlefield over politics any day."

"Did your dad ever drag you to stuff like that, Dearka?" asked Miriallia.

Dearka shook his head. "No, I was able to dodge that bullet. I think my dad figured out pretty early on that going into the civil service wasn't really my thing."

Duo eyed Yzak and chuckled. "Damn, hearing that makes me almost feel lucky that I grew up an orphan. No overbearing parents to drag me into crap like that!"

"You're an orphan?" Shinn chimed in from Heero's left, looking genuinely interested.

"Yup," Duo casually confirmed, "Gundam pilots tend to be. Seems to be almost a prerequisite for our line of work."

"Quatre lost his father later than the rest of us lost our parents," Heero pointed out, "but after that, we were all in that same boat."

Heero saw Shinn's eyes widen slightly. "Wait… you too? You never mentioned…"

"It was never important," Heero replied as he nodded at the screen, "We've got more pressing matters to concern ourselves with."

"Right," Shinn conceded, though he still eyed Heero in curiosity for a few seconds.

Heero paid him no mind; his focus was on the man moving to address Parliament next. In his early sixties, Eurasian Federation Prime Minister Anton Mikhailov didn't strike Heero as breaking any sort of mold as far as politicians went. He dressed in a plain suit, his receding grey hair was well trimmed, and his brown eyes still looked sharp despite his advancing years. From what Heero had learned about the man from Major Gardinier, he wasn't the boldest or most charismatic leader the Eurasian Federation had ever elected, nor did he have much in the way of firm ideological convictions. He'd been a career civil servant before taking the leap into elected office, and while he wouldn't be winning any prizes for grand oration or innovative policy ideas, he was a pragmatic man who seemed genuinely dedicated to making sure that the Eurasian Federation ran as smoothly as possible. Above all, he wanted to ensure the survival of his people and state, both for good and ill.

His stance of half-hearted support for the Atlantic Federation's war before now allowed him to keep his country out of the worst of the fighting, Heero thought, right up until his erstwhile 'allies' decided that half-hearted support wasn't good enough. His appeasement of the Atlantic Federation won Europe nothing but an invasion by those who claimed to be 'protecting' it. Berlin was torched under his watch, and other cities nearly followed. I'm honestly amazed he wasn't ousted from office.

After the usual perfunctory remarks that were expected of any head of state addressing a legislative body, the Prime Minister got to the heart of the matter. "This extraordinary session of Parliament has been called because our nation faces an extraordinary threat. Those whom we once called allies have turned their guns upon us, and why? Because we still allow our own citizens the freedom to voice their dissent against a war that we were dragged into only because of our legal obligations to the Earth Alliance? Because we have learned the gravity of our error in supporting, however reluctantly or tacitly, a misguided and vile crusade against a population over simply how they were born? Because we have decided that we're no longer willing to lose our soldiers in the name of the hatred that flows daily out of the halls of power in Washington, D.C.? The Eurasian Federation might've been a member state of the Earth Alliance at the start of this war, but we still reserve the right to determine our own destiny, and our so-called 'ally' would seek to take that right away from us through brute force. I believe I speak for all of us when I say that enough is enough!"

"Slimy bastard," Duo grumbled, "His spin lets the Eurasian Federation dodge any responsibility for the support they gave the Atlantic Federation in the war before his own country got invaded."

"Quiet!" Cagalli hissed.

In truth, Heero privately agreed with Duo's sentiments. It was fortunate that the Prime Minister had not been present during yesterday's conference, for Heero felt that he may have been unwilling to resist the temptation to call the man out for his willingness to tacitly support the Atlantic Federation's genocidal campaign against Coordinators all for the sake of minimizing the risk to himself and his own nation. Yes, it was the path of least resistance and had no doubt seemed appealing out of mere self-preservation, but it had made Moscow an accessory to a crusade whose end goal was mass slaughter. More to the immediate point, it hadn't even secured the objective of protecting Europe from the potential wrath of their own allies. Prime Minister Mikhailov's unwillingness to take a firm stand against what was clearly wrong action from the Atlantic Federation while at the same time providing limited aid to honor his treaty obligations had only succeeded in making the Eurasian Federation distrusted by their allies while still placing them at war with ZAFT and Terminal. Today's speech and hopefully ensuing declarations would really just be exercises in the Prime Minister saving his own skin and that of his country. This wasn't Moscow's political leadership suddenly having a moral awakening; it was, first and foremost, an act of self-preservation.

Duo calling the Prime Minister 'slimy' is probably an understatement, Heero thought, but if this act of survival on a politician's part is what it takes for Moscow to act against the Atlantic Federation, then we'll simply have to swallow our disgust and go along with it. We can't achieve our own objectives without help, not to mention fulfill our side of the bargain with the North American resistance. As long as the Prime Minister delivers what we need here, that's all that matters.

"This august body will soon vote on how we shall respond to this unprovoked aggression," the Prime Minister continued, "As the Atlantic Federation has violated our sovereignty and butchered our citizens while still acting under the umbrella of the wider Earth Alliance, the motion set before Parliament will include declarations of both secession and war. The former is necessary because it is clear that membership within the Earth Alliance is no longer beneficial to our nation. In fact, it is safe to say that continuing membership in the bloc would be an act of extreme folly given recent events. The latter, of course, is a required response to the assaults we have suffered. However, the declaration of war put before this body will be against more than just the Atlantic Federation. It is not enough to simply fight against the nation that attacked us. If we do not fight against the true driving force behind this aggression, then no nation in the Earth Sphere will ever be safe again!"

Heero felt Murrue take his hand and grip it tightly. He could hardly blame her. Mikhailov was about to grant them everything they wanted, and a new stage of the war was about to begin.

"It is an open secret that the tide of bigotry and hatred flowing from the Atlantic Federation against Coordinators and all who are willing to coexist with them is by and large a product of Blue Cosmos ideology," the Prime Minister explained, "That being said, Blue Cosmos would not enjoy such strong influence over the Atlantic Federation without powerful backing. The source of that backing is a cabal of arms merchants and industrialists that goes by the moniker of LOGOS. For years now, they have secretly ruled behind the scenes in the Atlantic Federation, and they have pushed it in the direction of constant aggression all for the sake of raking in obscene profits through lucrative defense contracts. While countless lives were lost in the last war and this one, the oligarchs of the armaments industry within North America line their pockets through the sales of the very weapons that have been used to inflict such misery upon the world. Their greed walks hand-in-hand with the hatred preached by Blue Cosmos, and both must be combatted openly if the Earth Sphere is to ever know true peace!"

The applause and cheers that rang out from the assembled representatives and functionaries was full-throated to say the least. It took at least a few minutes for the Parliamentarian to restore order before Mikhailov could conclude his speech.

"Let us name our foes openly and bring them to justice for their crimes against humanity!" the Prime Minister declared, "I place before Parliament a motion to declare war against both the Atlantic Federation and LOGOS, and to declare the secession of the Eurasian Federation from the Earth Alliance. Should this body vote to approve these measures, we must meet the future with open eyes and sober minds. The path we shall embark upon will be arduous, but it is the only path through which we can secure our future!"

Cheers filled the chamber again, and when they finally died down the voting commenced. The next half hour or so was a special kind of tense yet tedious hell as Heero and the others waited for the final tally to be displayed for all to see. The result was nothing less than cathartic; unanimous approval.

Next to him, Murrue let out a sigh of relief. "It's done, then. They're in this for real, now."

Heero nodded. "It's sink or swim for them and us. The fates of Terminal and the Eurasian Federation are bound together now."

And that of the North American resistance as well, he silently amended, Our part of the bargain's fulfilled.

A new alliance is born.

….

Getting up and stretching after his shuttle came to a complete stop, Maverick Security Consulting's White Devil took a moment to check his reflection in the window. His long and unruly light blond hair was as neat as he could make it, and his olive-drab flight suit had only a few wrinkles that needed to be smoothed over. The horse and lightning bolt emblem of his company was emblazoned on a patch over his left shoulder, while both a sidearm and sword were secured at his hip. The latter had drawn quite a few curious gazes from the ZAFT soldiers that he'd shared the cargo shuttle with, but Jack hadn't paid them much mind. His concerns weren't with his fellow passengers, but the machine down in the hold.

Heading to the back end of the craft's rather cramped passenger compartment, Jack descended a narrow staircase into the cargo hold and quickly sought out one of the engineers. "Any damage?"

The engineer, a raven-haired woman in her late twenties, shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh. "As I promised you before the flight began, sir, the Raijin was and is completely secure. There's not so much as a scratch on your machine or any of the other ones in this craft."

Looking past her, Jack saw that her words were true. His precious dark blue ZGMF-V01 Raijin was still very much in one piece, as were the GOUF Ignited units that it had been crammed in with. He really should've known better; ZAFT had always taken great pains to ensure high standards of training with their support personnel, and that was as true for their cargo handlers as it was for their medics or communications officers.

"Alright, then," he said after a moment, "Which submarine is it being moved to after this, again?"

"The Nansen," she replied.

Jack nodded. "I see. Thanks."

The cargo ramp descended a minute later, with Jack briskly exiting the shuttle while a line of heavy transport vehicles was forming outside in preparation to transfer the mobile suits to their assigned submarine/carrier. Jack hadn't expected much of a welcoming party, so it was quite a surprise indeed when he saw none other than the Supreme Council Chairman himself, surrounded by several aides, heading across the tarmac to meet him.

"Welcome to Gibraltar, Jack," Durandal said with a smile, "How was the flight down?"

Jack shrugged as he wondered why he was getting the celebrity treatment. "Smooth enough, I suppose. It's been a long time since I was last on Earth."

Durandal nodded. "I can well imagine. Thank you for accepting this contract. You and your company have served ZAFT well thus far in this war. I studied the combat footage from the defense of the PLANTs at the start of this war, and your performance was exemplary. It almost seems a shame that Maverick Security Consulting has been limited to patrol duty since then."

"We do what jobs are asked of us," said Jack, "We're not in this for glory. If our client needs us to provide eyes and ears rather than muscle, then that's what we'll do."

In truth, Jack hadn't really minded how slow things had been for MSC following ZAFT's victory over the Earth Alliance's assault on L5 at the beginning of the conflict. Monitoring ZAFT's outer defensive perimeter and shooing away enemy scouts still paid well, and it allowed Jack to stay close enough to home as to make arranging communications with his family quite easy. Sure, it wasn't quite the same as actually seeing his wife and son in person, but it was still better than being completely out of touch with them. He would've been perfectly content to spend the rest of the war carrying out such defensive duties, but fate seemed to have other plans in store for him.

The payout that ZAFT offered for just me to come down to Earth was double the worth of the contract we signed with them at the start of this war, he thought uneasily, I've got a feeling that ZAFT wants me here for more than just another round of slicing up Atlantic Federation mobile suits.

Durandal inclined his head. "Your company's reputation for professionalism is well deserved. Regardless of the tasks ZAFT sets you to, MCS has always accomplished the mission cleanly and efficiently. It is my hope that you'll be able to continue such work in cooperation with the other contract fighters that I've summoned here."

Jack was intrigued. "Other contract fighters? Who are they? Are they already here?"

"Their shuttle is actually scheduled to land quite soon," said Durandal as he gazed skywards, "In fact, I do believe that's them. As for who they are… well, why don't you stick around and find out? I imagine they'll be quite keen to meet you. After all, you and them both have impressive service records, so I'm sure they've heard of you."

Seeing as he wasn't going to get a direct answer out of the Chairman, Jack instead looked up in the same direction. Sure enough, a tiny silhouette was slowly but surely descending towards Gibraltar. When it got a bit closer, Jack recognized the model as a transport shuttle of the same type as the one that had brought him down several minutes ago.

ZAFT's not as heavily invested in the PMC field as the Earth Alliance is, Jack mused as he waited for the shuttle to land, MCS and other such groups aren't nearly as prominent as organizations like Desperado. If the Chairman's gathering multiple contractors for a single job, it must be a big one. Just what is he going to throw us into? The contract was lighter on details than I'd prefer. Boris, I'm starting to wonder if taking this job was really such a good idea…

Sensing someone watching him, Jack returned his gaze to the surface and found that a few of the Chairman's lovely aides were trying very hard to pretend that they weren't openly ogling him. The contract fighter could only shake his head and chuckle lightly. Several years ago, he might've started flirting with the young ladies, but he was a married man now, and Rose wouldn't be pleased if she found out he'd been trying to chat up the Chairman's administrative assistants.

Luckily for him, the attention of the aides soon joined that of the Chairman himself as the shuttle made its final landing approach. The craft touched down a few minutes later, eventually slowing to halt not too far from their current position. With the shuttle's nose pointed towards Jack and the others, he couldn't see what might be unloaded from the rear ramp, but his curiosity regarding what kind of mobile suits the craft was carrying swiftly took a back seat when one of the passenger exit doors opened. Two men descended the rolling stairs that had been brought up to the side of the shuttle, and Jack instantly recognized them.

He'd never met them in person, but MCS kept dossiers on all other high-profile contract fighters; in a field as deadly as mercenary work, it paid to know who one's competition was. Jack had always paid close attention whenever new files on the hottest up-and-coming private sector pilots came across his desk, but the two men he saw now were far from promising hotshots on the rise. No, these men were like him; veteran dogs of war in every sense of the word.

The lead was a man in his early to-mid thirties with unkempt brown hair falling to the base of his neck and a faded goatee; hardly ZAFT regulation, but no one in their right mind was about to tell this hellhound that he needed to shave. A black patch covered his left eye, but the right blue-gray orb was clear and sharp, sweeping the tarmac and immediately finding Jack before narrowing in silent evaluation. No flight suit was on him, with the mercenary instead favoring a thick white jacket with grey fur at the neckline, sleeves and coattails. Beneath that was a plain grey button-up shirt, with black pants and boots rounding out the ensemble. Two Colt 1911s were holstered at his hips, and Jack suspected that the man wearing them was just as proficient with them as he was with a mobile suit.

The man with him looked slightly younger, perhaps just past thirty. His appearance was a bit neater than that of his companion; his brown hair was well-trimmed, while the stubble running along his jaw and chin were very closely cut. Like his partner, his brown eyes took in the base at a glance before settling on Jack, but his gaze had a much more laid-back feel to it, as if he found MSC's top ace to be little more than a mild curiosity. His outfit was quite plain, all things considered, consisting of just a brown leather jacket, blue jeans and a white shirt. Jack knew that appearances could be deceiving, though, and that was especially true of the two men approaching him and the Chairman's entourage now.

Durandal smiled as they drew near. "Welcome to Gibraltar…"

"…Galm Team."

Preview for next time!

With their new alliance secured, Terminal prepares to depart Moscow. While the next steps in their plan involve assaulting the Atlantic Federation's naval bases in the British Isles before beginning the long voyage back to Orb to overthrow Unato's government and return Cagalli to power, they must first contend with the threat previously discovered by Quatre within Gibraltar. As Chairman Durandal sets Operation: Angel Down into motion, he remains completely unaware that his plan has already been compromised. Next time, on "Destiny's Call", Episode Twenty-Seven: Backfire.

'Two thousand men, and fifty thousand tons of steel.'

'Set the course for the Atlantic with the Allies on their heel.'

'Firepower, firefight.'

'Battle Stations, keep the targets steady in sight.'

'Into formation, the hunt has begun.'

'Death and damnation, the fleet is coming.'

Bismarck, by Sabaton.

Author's Notes: Another fan OC submission in this chapter: Hiryo Xian, the engineer in charge of developing the weapons for the Strike Freedom, courtesy of longtime reader TrenchcoatMan. Also, the first draft of the audio file from the North American resistance leader that Heero and Murrue listened to was provided by Titanic X, I simply edited it into the final version that appears in this chapter. If you still haven't checked out their tie-in story then you're undoubtedly very confused and have only yourself to blame for that.

Plenty of action on tap for the next chapter, especially with our favorite mercenaries returning to the stage! And also, more Sabaton. Always more Sabaton.

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to review, stay safe, and I'll see you all next time!